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underoos-shield · 5 years

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little italy

summary: peter can’t seem to get enough of her

warning: just one curse word

A/N: hi babies. @petey-verse is amazing and i love her and if u haven’t read her part makes sure you do cause it is amazing!!!! hope u enjoy part 3 babies! mwah!💫✨

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peter’s jaded eyes glaze over the meal before him. he’s excited to tour the city of milan, but he isn’t too pleased that he, along with the rest of his noticeably exhausted classmates, had to wake up before dawn to catch the bus before the early morning traffic.

the tired boy slouches in his chair, arms set lazily on the armrests and disorderly curls covering his forehead. he didn’t have the energy to brush them out this morning, thus making a flop of curls sit at the top of his head. peter lifts a hand to tiredly run his fingers through the mocha tendrils, making the curly bangs lift from his forehead for a moment before they flop back messily into his eyes. he lets out a tired sigh.

and if things couldn’t get any more disorienting, the boy had failed to button his floral blue shirt all the way, the top three still undone and exposing his freckled chest.

peter doesn’t make an effort to join ned, betty and mj as they are busy discussing their afternoon plans, trying to see if they have enough time to visit il duomo milan cathedral and the grand galleria vittorio emanuele II. both sounded amazing, but very tiring, which wasn’t going to help peter at the moment.

“non ti piace la tua colazione?(do you not like your breakfast?).”y/n’s eyes are full of somber and peter quickly sits up and holds onto her arm.

“no no, è perfetto, grazie. sono solo un po 'stanco oggi (no no, it’s perfect, thank you. i’m just a bit tired today).” somewhere in the midst of his rushed sentence, his hand slides down from her elbow into her much smaller palm.

y/n furrows her brows as she stares at the sleepy peter. the skin under his eyes are darker than usual and he looks a bit pale.

“dovresti mangiare, per favore (you should eat, please).” she quietly begs. she would hate if he got ill while touring the wonderful city. peter knowingly nods and fills up a freshly washed ceramic bowl with fruit and yogurt. y/n can see how tired he is by the slow blinks and the short breaths that he takes.

“perhaps you should rest during your travel?” she kindly offers. the bus ride is going to be about an hour long, maybe even less since they woke up early enough to beat the morning traffic. but it was better if peter took a quick nap than tiredly drag through the long day.

“will you be coming with us?” peter asks almost desperately. he knew it was a long shot, especially since y/n and her family had to tend to the guests at the hotel. but he hoped...

she lets out a small sigh. “my father won’t allow it” she says, disappointment prominent in her voice. peter nods as he looks away and she can see how hard he is fighting the urge to pout. “ma ti vedrò stasera? al giardino? (but i will see you tonight? at the garden?).” her hand tickles the skin under his chin as she politely lifts it up for him. she does not want peter to have a bad experience just because she cannot tag along. peter deserved to have fun, with or without her.

peter’s lips curve up into a smile and he nods along with her words. “yes, please.” he says, hope lacing in with his voice. y/n smiles with him and runs the back of her hand across his cheek. it was a sweet gesture and it made peter forget that she wasn’t able to attend their trip to milan.

“okay.” her accent sounds like velvet and peter is almost hypnotized by her. she is so enchanting that peter doesn’t realize he’s still sitting at the table with his classmates. and he definitely doesn’t realize that flash is glaring at him and squeezing the handle of the knife he is holding.

“arrivederci,” she says sweetly. her hand slips away from his cheek and y/n allows her fingers to run along his bicep, down this forearm and past his fingertips. and peter is so under her spell that he watches her as she walks out of his line of view, a blush covering his cheeks.

she wanted him to have something to look forward too, again.

duomo di milano is so strikingly beautiful, with its massive stained-glass windows and gigantic pillars and amazing architecture. peter takes pictures of the richly-patterned exterior and he even has a few pictures taken of him and his friends in the background. it was just too beautiful to leave in his memories.

and the interior was just as beautiful, maybe even more so.

the stained-glasses windows were hit by the radiant sun outside, making the pictures appear so beautiful and almost like something you would see in a movie. the almost flower-like pattern decorating the floor was almost like a dream and peter can’t believe he’s actually lucky enough to get to witness such a sight. “i wish y/n was here.” he accidentally says out loud.

the group make their way to the elegantly structured gallery known in milano as “il salotto” to grab a bite to eat. it was dinner time now and they were all famished from their adventure. “thank god, if we didn’t eat soon i would’ve passed out.” ned sighs gratefully. betty pouts her lip and pats ned’s thigh affectionately. peter looks to mj on his right, who was failing to fight off a cringe.

“mind if i sit, parker?” goosebumps immediately appeared at the back of peter’s neck and he turns to his left to see flash towering over him.

“oh-uh, sure.” the boy hadn’t realized just how much flash affected him. just thinking about flash’s torment made peter was to run back to his hotel room.

“so, you and y/n seem to be getting along quite well.” flash was smiling, which was odd, considering that he basically threatened peter’s life last night when he wanted to talk to y/n.

“uh, yeah. i guess just as well as everyone else is.” peter tries to keep it neutral, but flash isn’t buying it.

“i told you to stay away from her”, he warns. peter swallows nervously and grips the left armrest, not doing the same with his right hand in case mj would see.

“i don’t know what you-,” peter tries to find an excuse to save himself.

“cut the shit.”flash says. peter looks around the table to see if anyone had heard what he said. unfortunately, no heads turned his way. “i saw you two at breakfast this morning.” flash is basically growling at peter now and peter doesn’t know what else to do except stare down at the menu, pretending to find it interesting as flash continues his reign of torture.

dinner was just as tense, flash making sure he cut his food as threateningly as possible, mirroring what he would do to peter if he didn’t listen.

“peter!” her voice was full of relief, happy to see him after a long and tiring day working in the dining room and kitchen. it was nice to finally have some time to relax. peter looks around the lobby to search for her and he jumps as y/n’s small arms wrap around peter’s waist from behind. he can feel her let out a satisfied smile and the way her cheeks are turned up as she smiles.

“mi sei mancato (i’ve missed you)”, she whispers, making goosebumps appear along his arms. the boy lets out a sigh filled with relief, he finally gets to be with her again.

y/n loosens her hold just enough to let peter turn around and finally catch a glimpse of her beautiful face. “ciao, bella (hello, beautiful)” peter says smoothly. y/n’s smile is hidden as she giggles into him, cheek pressed against his chest. peter would give anything to hear her laugh like that again. it was so light and free and so wonderful, just like her. and he smiles down at her because she is just amazing, so unlike anyone he has ever met.

“shall we go outside?”. y/n steps away from him and tucks her gorgeous hair behind both of her ears, her cheeks and nose noticeably glowing red.

“yes”. peter smiles at her and she shyly turns from him as she walks towards the garden. peter follows her with a dopey smile on his lips, happy that he was finally able to enjoy his favorite time of day with his favorite person in italy.

“ti è piaciuto milano? (did you enjoy milan?)” her voice was soft and inviting and so full of wonder. it made peter swoon.

“e 'stato stupefacente. vorrei che tu fossi lì. (it was amazing. i wish you were there)” peter whispers the last part but y/n’s ears still pick up the sweet message, it making her feel so appreciated.

she smiles and looks at her lap and tucks the already-placed hair behind both ears again. and peter picked up that this was her nervous habit.

“il ragazzo ti ha infastidito di nuovo? (was that boy bothering you again?)”. y/n rests her hand on his forearm as she waits for his answer. she would hate to hear that his trip was ruined because of some boy.

peter sighs and gives her a fake smile. “non parliamo di questo ora (let’s not talk about that now)”. y/n frowns and is about to push him into telling her what happened but

peter proceeds to take out his phone, opening to his camera roll and showing pictures of him, ned, betty and mj enjoying their day out, hoping it will change the subject. and it seems to work, because she leans forward to get a better look.

“chi è? (who’s this?)”, she asks, pointing at the picture to a happy mj as peter’s arm was around her shoulders. her voice is filled with something close to disappointment and peter lets out a soft laugh.

“solo un'amica. (just a friend)”, he says softly. peter can see that y/n visibly relaxes at his words, biting her lip to hide her smile.

she brings her petite fingers over his phone and swipes to the next screen, revealing a picture of him laughing as the golden sun hits his face. y/n smiles at this and takes the phone from his hands, gently stroking the sides as if she is stroking his face. her smile widens as each moment passes, finding the picture more captivating with each moment. he looks so beautiful in the light and his smile looks so carefree.

“sei molto bello (you are very handsome)”. peter blushes and wipes his sweaty hands on his pants. they’re sweaty now because no one had ever called him handsome before. only may, but it didn’t count.

peter smiles shyly and tucks his phone in his pocket. he reaches behind him and pulls out his soft cover copy of the book that brought them together, it being safely tucked into the back of his jeans.

“posso leggerlo a voi? (may i read it to you?)”, he asks charmingly. y/n smiles and rests the side of her head on his arm, waiting for her favorite private moment to begin.

“amo quando mi leggi (i love when you read to me)”. peter smiles down at her and opens to where they left off, imagining himself in an alternate universe where y/n and him didn’t have to keep their... rendezvous such a secret.

—

chapter 4

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#tom!!!!!!!#peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #spider man homecoming #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peteyverse #cutie!!!#collab fic #little italy #underoosshield

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hookaroo · 5 years

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Vocivore, Ltd. (37 of 45?)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, @courtorderedcake, @facesiousbutton82 <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL, HEARTBREAKING, and BEAUTIFULLY WHUMPY COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE and HERE!!!!!!!!!*************

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!!!!!!!**********

***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!! CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********

*CH 34 ART! A DEFEATED KILLIAN, HEAD BOWED BEFORE HIS MASTER!!*

***NEW!! NOW YOU HAVE A VISUAL TO GO INTO THIS CHAPTER WITH!!!!! DETECTIVE JONES GETS IN ON THE WHUMP ACTION AS HE BOWS BEFORE HIS NEW MASTER!! CHECK IT OUT BEFORE READING!!!!!!!!!!!***

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

Present (Friday, continued)...

Jones’ piercing cry throbbed in the new bruises scattered across Emma’s face, arms, and gut, but her own pain was the least of her concerns.

She’d heard the stun gun go off and watched her friend fall, transfixed by the very device meant to protect him. But not even the close-range shooting could account for his pure agony right now, not if her own Killian’s pain threshold was anything to go by.

In a panic and out of her mind with worry for both Joneses, she once again yanked fruitlessly against the slaves holding her captive. Despite apparent signs of their terminal neurological condition, they had no trouble, between the three of them, keeping her contained. She could only watch as Jones’ thrashing weakened, his cries turning to piteous moans. The Master had its back turned to her, but she could only assume it was reveling in the energy flowing all around it, probably healing its wounds and giving it even greater control over all of its helpless followers.

This rescue plan had been doomed from the start, and they were fools for having gone through with it. She’d told Jones. She’d given him clear warning: he had no protection, no Dark One residue or whatever the heck it was that granted her and Killian immunity. Two steps into the church, and Jones had been groveling, submitting to the vile thing currently soaking up his screams. And now they would die, all three of them. Storybrooke, the United Realms: all doomed. And Hope would grow up without a family, just as Emma had done. Okay, Belle would do her best, and the toddler seemed to like Gideon, so she would be okay… until Belle’s death. Followed by Rumple’s sacrifice, in whatever messed-up timeline it occurred. Where would she be then?

As always, Emma tried to squash her feelings into a rage-box. She was mad at Rumple for helping them with the plot. She was mad at Killian for undertaking it, for talking her into it, for making her suffer this month past, all for nothing. She was mad at herself, for not putting her foot down and demanding a better plan. But most of all, she was furious with this hideous monstrosity before her. This bloody bastard that had taken so much from her, from her friends, hell, from all the countless people she didn’t even know. And it was going to win?!

But then, inexplicably, the Vocivore took a step back, then another, and all of its upper limbs curled in toward its chest. Its low groan seemed to shake the very foundations of the shabby sanctuary as it turned toward the altar. Emma read desperation in its eyes, and fear, and confusion. It reached a trembling claw in her direction, and the guards readied themselves for a command that never came. Emma saw with shocked bemusement that a sickly green glow emanated from the center of the creature’s heaving chest. And then the crab legs gave way.

The scream-eater crashed to the paving stones, its pointed legs folded awkwardly beneath its bulk. Emma could only gape as it tore the bow tie from around its neck in an attempt to get more oxygen. In obvious excruciating pain, it wheezed to no one in particular,

“What… is… this?”

The green light in the middle of its chest doubled in intensity, and the monster hunched forward, howling in pain.

The slave to Emma’s left abruptly stumbled backward, clutching his head. His partners soon followed suit. Whatever the reason--whatever confusion and fear they were facing--Emma didn’t care. She had her freedom: time to destroy this monster once and for all. Emma snatched her pistol from a sobbing slave's hand, and he made no move to stop her. Whirling, she stalked straight up to the writhing spider-crab, whose eyes reflected a mute, baffled panic.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Krabs? Choke on a sound wave? Two Killians more than you can handle?”

The thing looked deflated somehow; certainly it no longer towered in presence and appearance. On wobbly legs, it pushed itself up and scrabbled backwards, clumsy, suddenly unable to find purchase on the stones over which, just moments before, it had been so self-possessed.

Emma leveled her gun at the beast. She was going to enjoy this. She knew she should really deal a fatal blow up front, while she had the advantage and the creature was distracted by whatever currently affected it. But after all Killian had been through at its claws... after all she had endured, helplessly listening to him suffer... it deserved a little pain, and she deserved a chance to inflict it.

"I don't know where you came from," she growled, ruthlessly firing one bullet into a churning leg, "or how you got here." A second bullet tore into a tentacle coiled in agony. One left. "Your reign ends today. And you will not be causing anyone any more pain... ever... again."

Flecks of spittle flew from the Vocivore's mouth as it gasped for breath. Each soulless black eye leaked copious tears, which rained down on its now-filthy waistcoat. The green light radiating from its thorax grew brighter with each backwards step toward the altar. Despite its other wounds, the monster's upper limbs were all pressed over the pulsing light as if trying to massage away excruciating pain. The damaged leg buckled, the massive bulk wobbled, nearly tipping sideways, and Emma took aim at its repulsive, desperate face.

The monster performed a clumsy half-turn, its right hand reaching pathetically toward its favorite slave. "Tri...pod..."

An especially intense strobe of verdant light shone between its spasming fingers. A horrible, keening sigh groaned from its lungs, half whimper, half growl. Emma stepped closer, the barrel of her pistol pointed straight at the beast's temple.

"That's Killian, you bastard."

Then she pulled the trigger.

Immediately, while the echoes of the shot still rang in the rafters, the Vocivore's legs gave out and it crashed to the floor. Still upright, balanced on girth and a low center of gravity, but quiet and motionless. A trail of violet raindrops led all the way to the stone wall, where a yellowed parchment advertised a long-done charity drive. Or used to, before it was splattered with monster brains.

The green glow faded from view. Emma held her breath, half expecting the cursed thing to surge back to its feet with a roar of rage, ready to take out its anger on an unresisting Killian. But it stayed down. 10 seconds. 20. Emma slowly expelled a breath. Creeping forward, she boldly prodded the nearest armored leg; as expected, there was no response.

"Hope you like brimstone," she muttered, all the acid in her voice 100% genuine.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jones struggling to sit up. She holstered her weapon and hurried to offer support, noticing as she crouched that the green light had also vanished from his chest. Wincing, Jones clapped a trembling hand over the blood staining the tunic covering his shoulder. He nodded weary thanks for her assistance.

“I’m okay.” He sounded dazed and in pain, but otherwise lucid. He studied the inert form a few yards in front of him, shuddered, then focused farther away, to the other end of the room. “Go to him.”

Emma steeled herself and stood. In the whole time since entering the church, she had not seen one sign of life from her husband; she fully expected to reach out and touch a cooling corpse, yet also clung to the tiny chance that he could still be alive, and as long as she didn’t know for sure one way or the other, she could entertain hope. But she was out of excuses now. If he was alive, he needed urgent help. So she had to be brave now, and face the moment of truth.

#ouat fanfiction #killian jones #emma swan #wish realm killian #pain #screams #poisoned heart #shooting #gunshot wound #Vocivore ltd

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wifeofbath · 5 years

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Wife of Bath in Florence--Part 7: Il Duomo

We’ve come to the end of the Florence trip 2014 recap, just in time for the Florence 2019 trip! Which will probably not get this in-depth treatment because 1) I’m staying for longer so I can’t do a day-by-day breakdown and 2) this trip is for research: dissertation and otherwise *shifty eyes*.

Friday was the last day of the class, and I wasn’t flying home until Sunday, so Saturday was my completely free day. I figured it would be a good time to wander around and maybe see some of the things I had either missed or wanted to see one more time.

I had decided to have breakfast out, so I popped into one of the little cafes for a hot chocolate and a croissant. Good timing too because the bottom of the sky decided to drop out just as I went in.

Nom nom nom

I had been forewarned that hot chocolate in Italy was very thick and very rich. So true! It was also very, very hot and burned my tongue, but it was really good.

At first, I thought I would go back to the Uffizi, but when I got there, the line was already crazy long (and this in the off season!). So I said nope to that and decided to head to the Duomo. Now, when you go to the cathedral, you can purchase a ticket to go to the crypt, the cathedral’s museum, up into the dome, the bell tower, and the baptistery. I wasn’t interested in climbing the dome or bell tower, and the baptistery was closed for restoration, so I headed down into the crypt.

The crypt is the remains of the earlier church, Santa Reparata, which was excavated in the 1900s.

Painted Italo-Byzantine cross, very relevant to my interests now.

Sculpture of Santa Reparata

Hard to see because of the glare but these are her relics.

Tomb slab

Early Christian floor mosaics

Somehow I missed Brunelleschi’s tomb, though

The cathedral’s museum is a great hidden spot with a lot of neat things inside. Highly recommend taking a look. I barely scratched the surface of the goodies here.

Fragments of the old façade of the cathedral

Della Robbia!

Ghiberti’s Baptistry doors aka the Gates of Paradise. Got a little glare because they’re behind glass.

Michelangelo’s Bandini Pietà/Deposition. This passion project for Michelangelo was supposed to go over his tomb and unfortunately caused him great frustration to the point where he tried to destroy it. It is an ambiguous composition, and there are a lot of different theories about why he designed this piece the way he did.

The face of Nicodemus is a self-portrait.

The famous missing leg, subject of much speculation

Afterwards, I decided to walk around a little in the Palazza della Signoria.

Ducked into the Palazzo Vecchio, although I didn’t stay for the tour.

Lunch at the Ristorante Caffe Giotto. Again, one of the spots near the cathedral. Had the gnocchi with truffles, which was good, but most importantly, it introduced me to the wonders of gnocchi!

After lunch the sun came out, which made it great weather for pictures of the cathedral.

Giotto’s bell tower

I love the Neo-Gothic façade of the cathedral. Although begun in the 1300s, the exterior was not complete until the 19th century.

So much pink and green!

And of course the Dome.

I decided to head back to the room a little early so I had plenty of time to get my things together for my flight early the next morning. On the way back to my B&B, I picked up a couple of pastries, a spinach and cheese and a chocolate one. Like the spinach and cheese but I thought the chocolate tasted oddly fruity.

One more shot of the gorgeous ceiling in my room. I was so sorry to leave it.

And that was it for my 2014 trip to Italy. Hopefully the next one will be even more productive (hope, hope, hope)!

#WifeofBath in Florence

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ohkvothe · 5 years

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Everyone knows that there are a lot of locations in London where Harry Potter was filmed (or set), most famously perhaps Platform 9 and 3/4 at King’s Cross Station. But there are actually a lot of film locations in London that you can visit. I have never seen a complete overview of all of them (and how to get there), so here is a walking tour guide for all the film locations you can see in London!

Overview:

Stops: Lambeth Bridge (1). Westminister Bridge (2). Scotland Place (3). Piccadilly Circus (4). Leicester Square Station (5). Australian High Commission (6). Millenium Bridge (7). Stoney Street, Borough Market (8). Leadenhall Market (9). Claremont Square (10). [King’s Cross Station] (11).

Detailed Walk Description:

You’ll be starting off at Lambeth Bridge. In POA, this is the bridge where the Knight Bus drives between the two double decker busses. Additionally, the side of the bridge is shown in the first film (the sort of London opening shot).

Photo of Lambeth Bridge.

Lambeth Bridge in the third Harry Potter film.

This is the view of Lambeth Bridge, today, from a bit further west along the river. Obviously the shot used in Philosopher’s Stone is from further up, but I don’t think there is a way to get into any of the houses along the river.

This is the shot from the first Harry Potter film.

The next stop is Westminister Bridge. Just walk along the river (on the south side), until you get to the next bridge (generally super crowded). You can see the Houses of Parliament across the river (and the currently veiled Elisabeth Tower – fun fact, Big Ben is actually the name of the largest bell inside the tower, not the tower itself). In OOTP, Harry and the Order of the Phoenix members fly under the bridge and along the Houses of Parliament (other sights shown in the flight are Tower Bridge, the HMS Belfast and the City of London and Canary Wharf skylines).

The next stop is Scotland Place in Whitehall. Walk across Westminister Bridge and turn right to walk towards Trafalgar Square. If you’re interested you can enter Westminister Underground Station – you’ll recognize it from the OOTP film. It’s the station Mr Weasley and Harry enter on their way to the Ministry of Magic.

Westiminister Underground Station.

Scene from Harry Potter 5.

Scotland Place today (there’s an arch over the street on the right in the film which is not actually there (the one the phone box is placed underneath). Also there’s massive construction going on at the moment!

Shot from the films.

Before you reach Trafalgar Square (you can already see it in the distance), turn right into Scotland Place. This street was used both in the Order of the Phoenix and the Deathly Hallows movies. In OOTP, the phone box Mr Weasley and Harry use is placed here, and in DH it’s the place where Ron looks around the corner when he, Harry and Hermione are planning to infiltrate the ministry. Somewhere in the area you can also find the place where the entry to the Ministry of Magic was located in DH (i.e. the toilets). However, they don’t actually exist and were just put up for the film in the middle of the street. I don’t know where exactly that scene was filmed, but if you walk around the area you may find it (I think it’s closer to Westminister Abbey).

Scotland Place today (I literally waited for about 15 min because a massive truck was parking right in front of the corner).

Scene from the film.

If you exit the street again and continue walking you’ll reach Trafalgar Square (with the very noticeable Nelson’s Column in the middle). Walk left (past the Canadian Embassy) and then turn right, until you reach Piccadilly Circus. The place was used to film the scene in DH after Ron, Harry and Hermione escape from the death eaters at Bill and Fleur’s wedding (and almost get run over by a red bus). Piccadilly circus got an entire makeover in the years since the film but the GAP is still there!

Taken from Shaftesbury Avenue (Northeast side of Piccadilly Circus).

The next stop is a sort of hazy one, but I thought I’d include it anyway:

The gate between Patisserie Valerie and no. 12 was used as the entry to the Leaky Cauldron in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

Walk towards Leicester Square Station. When you’re in front of the station, walk north on Charing Cross Road. In the beginning of the Half-Blood Prince the camera follows the road up from Trafalgar Square (or rather follows the flying deatheater shadow) and then, just after Leicester Square station, ‘enters’ the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley where the deatheaters kidnap Ollivander. This location of this entry is just behind Leicester Square Station, in Great Newport Street (right).

Australia House (or the Australian High Commission).

Walking on, through Convent Garden and towards Strand, a bit behind Waterloo Bridge you’ll reach Australia House (or rather the Australian High Commission). The scenes inside Gringotts were filmed in this house, but sadly, you can’t enter. Some people have told me that you can talk to the security guards, and if they’re having a nice day they will sometimes let you have a peak inside. I’ve never tried this but you’re welcome to try!

The next stop is the Millenium Bridge. To get the best view you can cross the river using Blackfriar’s Bridge (especially great if you’re an Infernal Devices fan and need a short cry) and walk along the river on the south side (which is a lovely walk, too). After a while, the Tate Gallery is on your right, and you can step onto Millenium Bridge and get a lovely view of St Paul’s on the other side of the river. There are two non-HP things I can recommend here: The Tate Gallery is free to enter, and they have a great viewing platform on the 10th floor! Also, an artist has drawn tiny images on chewing gums on the Millenium Bridge that you don’t notice, but some of them are super detailed and look really nice. Also, the Globe Theatre is right next to the bridge (if you’re interested, you can get 5 pound standing tickets for almost all shows).

Scene from HP6.

Shot of the bridge from the south side.

Stay on the south side of the river and walk further east. The next stop is Stoney Street at the Borough Market. Under the bridge over Stoney Street was the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron in the third (and only the third) Harry Potter film (where the Knight Bus bumps the car and triggers the alarm). In the scene in Harry’s room in the Leaky Cauldron you can also see the Southwalk Cathedral and the railway bridge from the window (I don’t know where you can get the exact shot from though). The Borough Market is a great place to have lunch, if you’re feeling hungry. Just around the corner is The George, one of the oldest and loveliest pubs in London!

This must be the darkest shot from the entire film!

The bridge today – during the day, it’s probably going to be super crowded, but if you really want to see the spot you can come back in the evening when the market’s gone.

For the next stop, you can either walk (about 20-30 min), or you can take a bus. We’re crossing the river again (using London Bridge) and walk towards Leadenhall Market (I know it says Old Spitalfield Markets on the map SORRY). This is a really lovely market where two scenes in the first Harry Potter films were shot. Firstly, the scene of Harry and Hagrid walking towards the Leaky Cauldron, and the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron itself. The first shot is in front of shop no. 39 in the Lime Street Passage, the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron is in the Bulls Head Passage.

Shot from the first Harry Potter Film.

Lime Street Passage.

Scene from the film.

The entrance to the Leaky Cauldron today.

To get to the next location I’d recommend to take the tube (although you can also walk, but it’ll take you about 40 minutes). Walk to Moorgate Station and take a north-bound Northern line to Angel Station. From the station, it’s a five-minute walk to Claremont Square. This is the place where the outside of Grimmauld Place No. 12 was filmed. The row of houses is opposite a small park, and you’ll notice a small gate at the end of the street. That’s the gate through which Moody, Harry, Tonks and the others exit the park after their flight across London.

Scene from the 5th film.

Claremont Square, with the park on the right.

We’re getting to the last stop of this tour. Walking along the street, you turn right and then left, and walk down towards King’s Cross Station. The station is right next to St Pancreas Station, and I read somewhere that J. K. Rowling actually thought about St Pancreas Station while writing the Harry Potter books, because she confused the two. Because St Pancreas station is gorgeous and King’s Cross is a bit meh, outer shots of St Pancreas were used in all Harry Potter films whenever King’s Cross station is shown (most noticeably in the second film, when the Weasley’s Ford Anglia circles the tower).

Shot from the second film.

St Pancreas today (do you notice that it’s getting dark? This tour took so long!)

Enter King’s Cross Station. If you enter through the main entrance, you can walk past the big info screens and look right. There you’ll find an “Official” Platform 9 and 3/4 with massive queues and an official fan shop, where you can have your picture taken with half a trolley in the wall and a Platform 9 and 3/4 sign. The actual scene in the movie was filmed at the barriers between platform 4 and 5. Officially, you can’t get there without a ticket, but there’s a sort of back entrance: If you’re standing in front of the fan shop, turn around. You’ll see escalators going up to the second level. Go up, and at the top of the escalators turn left and walk across the bridge. You’ll cross ticket barriers that are usually open, and you can walk on and take the stairs or elevators down to the the platform.

Scene from the film.

Platform 4 in King’s Cross Station.

And that’s the end of the walking tour. I’ve tried my best to mention all the film locations in London that are accessible, and I hope you enjoyed the little look into Harry Potter’s London. Feel free to send in any locations I missed, and I hope your feet are still in one piece! 🙂

London Harry Potter Tour Everyone knows that there are a lot of locations in London where Harry Potter was filmed (or set), most famously perhaps Platform 9 and 3/4 at King's Cross Station.

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storytime-writings · 5 years

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I have a lot of photos of Notre Dame from a few years back when I visited...and plenty of blurry shots because of the lighting...I never got around to deleting the blurred ones and yeah I don’t think that’s going to happen now...

But I’m also so glad I had the opportunity back then in 2016 to climb the cathedral towers (which we didn’t do the first time we visited Notre Dame), not just getting to see the gorgeous views, the gargoyles and the bells, but also getting to see the cathedral spire up close...

#notre dame #notre dame de paris #this is devastating news #but at the same time amazing to know how much was saved and it will be rebuilt #this event has just become part of the historical fabric of the site #and will be remembered #personal

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voidsettle · 5 years

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Warm Flanders

Indulging our traveling desire and continuing the newly developed tradition of European Christmas markets, we bought tickets to Belgium. This trip had its peculiarities - and a unique aftertaste. Welcome to the capital of Europe!

Panorama of Bruges from Belfry (I assume, the point where Brendan Gleeson's character jumps off in the movie 'In Bruges'

I don't know how we chose Belgium - but it all started with just Brussels, and then grew to another three towns. I suspect we may have a psychological condition.

After Brussels, Bruges was an obvious addition to the trip. Possibly the most well-known of tourist destinations in Belgium, it features a well-preserved medieval town so quaint like it crawled out of a fairy tale.

The movie 'In Bruges' (a nice piece of popularized arthaus) added to the fame of the place. The town in this flick is a character of its own - it serves as the premise and the plot twist, it helps to make hard choices and aids the protagonist. Besides, the film has gorgeous cast. Seriously, look it up if you've never seen it - or rewatch if you have.

Being in Belgium (and, more importantly, its northern part, Flanders - probably the most history-heavy region), I absolutely had to see Antwerp. Ghent was a curious little addition that we didn't plan - but that happened between Bruges and Antwerp just because we had time and opportunity. Stay tuned for more.

Brussels: Art and Chocolate

Rue de la Chaufferette/Lollepotstraat, LGBTQ art street in the inner City of Brussels

Brussels is a weird city. Commonly I enjoy places that don't mind you roaming the streets (think Rome, Bangkok, New York). Brussels is however different. It etched into my memory as grey and rainy (I barely got a chance to snap a photo), and multifaceted to the point of utter incomprehensibility.

That is partly on national communities. Our free-tour guide mused on the immigration agenda of the city: nearly 80% of the current population (first and second generations) are not native to Belgium. The city, being the administrative and political center of Europe, is the very definition of a cultural melting pot.

Only a day before we arrived, French workers had a strike against ever-growing prices - thus all of Brussels was covered in barricades (not sure about the name, but something like Cheval de frise or knife-rest (aka Spanish rider) obstacles; all cold metal and barbwire, brutal).

But Brussels also flaunts its historic heritage and celebrates its art. The whole city is covered in street art - most notably scenes and characters from comics and statements in favor of LGBTQ community. Street decorations and overhead lamps of different designs and splendor turn the city into an exhibition of light.

Altmejd, 2015. Musees royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique/Koninklijke Musea voor Schone Kunsten van Belgie

The more traditional artistry is spread within the cluster of museums of Mont des Arts/Kunstberg, most notably the Royal Museu of Fine Arts that features both old masters (David, Rembrandt, Rubens - and a whole hall and Google-partnered tour program dedicated to Bruegel) and new masters (some of my beloved Impressionists including Van Gogh, Serat, Gaugin, and a couple of Rodins). Another pearl, Magritte's museum is just down the stairs.

We've also followed one of the most bizarre quests I've ever had, looking for all three pissing monuments of Brussels - the symbol-status Manneken Pis, his female version Jeanneke Pis and a non-fountain canine variation Het Zinneke. Belgian people are weird.

We had some hysterical fun trying to decipher one of the ads on a bus stop. It claimed certain Subea was the best gift for your loved ones on Christmas. Passersby undoubtedly believed us crazy as we tried to identify the thing - and never came close to guessing. Look it up, it's hilarious.

Blue street art, Brussels

Built on the time-tested principles of trading cities, Brussels preserves the tradition of market squares. In early December, the downtown is covered in Christmas towns and motley crowds, framed in softly shimmering lights. It's full of flavors of waffles with cream, and frites, and gluhwein, and seafood, and sausages.

Brussels is full of cyclists (even more so than Copenhagen), full of churches, and homeless, and nationalities - cuisines, skin tones, languages. The signs duplicated in French and Dutch do not help location purposes in any significant way.

Nevermind the confusing feelings I developed for Brussels, there is one thing I should mention with firm praise - chocolate. Walk the streets and have a cup of hot chocolate - it's literally chocolate of your choice melted in hot milk. Eat warm Liege waffles topped with chocolate and cream. Buy a set of (regular) chocolate boxes with discount - or pay a visit to Galeries Royales Saint-Hubert to learn about chocolate as art. It's expensive, yes, but oh is it worth every cent!

Break a chocolate bar of preference - dark works best - into pieces, add to the cup and pour with hot milk. Stir until it melts. Enjoy the taste of Belgium.

St Michael and Gudula Cathedral, Brussels

What to see in Brussels:

Grand Place

Brussels Town Hall

Residence of the Dukes of Brabant

Maison du Roi/Broodhuis

Manneken Pis

Jeanneke Pis

Het Zinneke

Bourse/Beurs (stock exchange)

Galleries Royales Saint-Hubert

St Michael and Gudula Cathedral

chapelle de la Madeleine/Magdalenakapel

Mont des Arts/Kunstberg

Musees royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique/Koninklijke Musea voor Schone Kunsten van Belgie (Musee Oldmasters, Musee Magritte, musical instruments museum)

Royal Palace

Parc de Bruxelles/Warandepark

eglise Notre-Dame au Sablon/Onze-Lieve-Vrouw ten Zavelkerk

eglise royale Sainte-Marie/Koninklijke Sint-Mariakerk

National Basilica of the Sacred Heart

Atomium

Royal Palace of Laeken

Bruges: The Belfry and the Waffle Houses

Rozenhoedkaai, Bruges

Belgian capital is the least Flemish city among those I've visited. Bruges, on the other hand, seems to bear the imprint of one of the richest regions of medieval Europe. The town is neat and cute, full of waffle houses with stair-step facades, all red brick and yellowish stone. The streets are carefully crafted and well-groomed; they stretch in slow curves, and the houses crowding each side chant their stories to the tourists in a never-ending lullaby.

Houses plaster all over each other - it feels like each street has only one building that was actually constructed with 4 walls. The rest figured 'hey, here's a perfectly good empty wall right there, with nothing attached, why not stick to the side'.

The whole country is like that, one of the signature traits of Belgium, alongside angry cyclists and painted waffle houses.

Before walking to the main attraction (Belfry, naturally), we've decided to have a glass of beer in Halve Maan, one of the oldest breweries in town. We were pleasantly surprised by the sleepy emptiness, the fireside couches and craft beer (I've never had an 11° beer before, it felt almost as a shot of whiskey). In a slumbery, sheepish haze we walked around the Minnewaterpark with its swans and gardens dipped in green moisture.

Minnewaterpark. After the rainy, grey-ish Brussels, Bruges met us with sun-through-the-clouds and warmth worthy of mid-October. I finally got out my camera and snapped my way through the cute medieval city

The territory of Bruges is covered in canals - no wonder it's called the small Venice of the North, and the centuries-old architecture covers the town in a romantic blur. Even the long queues of Belfry (one person in, one out, and around half a hundred waiting for their turn) didn't disturb our dreamy mood. The view from above maps the whole town on the palm of your hands, and the stone parapet is covered in numbers and names of cities with arrows pointing the direction.

Carillon, a fascinating musical instrument that has several dozen bells connected to play melodies. The Belfry carillon plays a different melody every quarter of an hour

Belfry is gorgeous at sunset, especially observed from Grote Markt - towering, starkly contrasted against the fading skies.

Bruges is probably best-known for its streets - after you've seen the main attractions, there's no clear itinerary, but just wander around and get lost in the medieval brick labyrinth. You can visit the old windmills - each with its own unique name - and the corner of Groenerei, which is less romantic in winter but still a nice place for a romantic rendezvous. Or just roam the streets and inhale the ambiance of this old town that looks like it jumped straight out of a fairytale with enchanted castles, simplistic plotline where good always conquers evil and a set of enjoyably cardboard characters.

Sometimes it's fun to experience something so far from real life. Can't disagree with the philosophic view of Fiennes's character from 'In Bruges'.

What to see in Bruges:

Kasteel de la Faille

Sashuis

Minnewaterpark

Sint-Janshospitaal-Memlingmuseum

St Salvator's cathedral

Church of Our Lady (featuring Michelangelo's Madonna met Kind)

Bonifaciusbrug

the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

Rozenhoedkaai (the most photographed spot in Bruges)

't Brugse Vrije

City Hall

Basilique du Saint-Sang

Brugge markt

Belfry and Market Halls

Provinciaal Hof

Jan Breydel en pieter de Coeninck memorial

St James's church

Jan Van Eyck memorial

windmills (de Coelewey, de Nieuwe Papegaai, Sint Janshuismolen, Bonne Chiere)

Sint-Annakerk

Gronerei

Train Tales

Belgium is unexpectedly bad at doing trains. We heard the first bell as we tried to get out of Brussels. The Northern train station has a clear division between two worlds. The ground floor belongs to hobos and (most probably) unemployed immigrants - this is the world of half-light, scary coughs and little noises, empty food wrappings, garbage, people wrapped in multiple layers of dirty blankets and coats. The upper floors are obviously European, well-lit, with shops, 24/7 information desks and wending machines. The contrast is so stark that it's frightening.

(Under)ground floors of Antwerpen-Centraal

Yet this was but a warning. For some unknown reason, the schedule of Belgian trains is really complicated - we couldn't make sense of it using just timetables and scoreboards. This was a shock for me specifically - I just went to Italy a month prior, where I didn't even need to talk to anyone to understand where to buy tickets and how to get from point A to point B.

Obviously we were not alone confused by the whole system - by the machine selling tickets, a nice lady was spending her working hours explaining stupid tourists how this works. She offered us a ticket we didn't consider - it could take us to 10 destinations (we needed 6, and decided to spend 2 more for a short detour to Ghent before Antwerp; profit).

The complications started when we failed to notice the class of the coach we were boarding. Truth to be told, there was a number '1' on the side - but the inside didn't look any different from second class, so I'm not sure what's the deal. 10 minutes into the ride, a railway employee walked in and aggressively started to demand extra payment to 'upgrade' our tickets - about 10 euro per person. None of us were allowed to leave the first class coach for the second.

The thing about that whole situation was: of all the people in the coach, only one woman was aware of its first class status. The rest were bewildered and looked like lost tourists (some of us surely were) who forgot to check the number on the side of the carriage. Which, frankly, didn't feel like the people's fault. A Spanish family nearly started a brawl with the guy - which earned my compassion but also a portion of solid mirth.

Hilarious experience - but also quite frustrating. Not too fond of Belgian train system.

Ghent: The Castle and the Histrionic Weather

Gravensteen, Ghent

I didn't expect this short detour would turn out this satisfying. Don't get me wrong, there's not much to do in Ghent in the evening. In a manner traditional for the whole country, life dies away after 6PM. As nightfall covers the streets, the shops and restaurants close, and the whole city seems deserted. There are some late passersby, some groups of youth and random tourists but they're not common, especially further from downtown.

But the architecture is spectacular nonetheless. Korenmarkt (basically, central square) with Church of Saint Nicholas is the heart of the city. The sites are mostly all on the same line - Stadhuis Gent and Belfort, Saint Bavo cathedral and a couple of nearby 'palaces' that were actually residences of (very) wealthy merchants, and Saint Michael's church on the other side of Korenmarkt, across the Leie river.

It was enjoyable to just wander the empty streets quite aimlessly, bumping into architectural sites curious things here and there

Gravensteen is exactly the prototype you imagine when someone says 'a castle'. It's the type of medieval structure you drew as a kid, with the battlements and turrets. This is where a valiant knight came to rescue a fair maiden from an evil king. It's The Ultimate Castle.

In yet another plot twist, the weather in Ghent was unpredictably fun. It made us giggle at its hysterical fits.

Rain, wind and damp autumnal warmth changed each other in bizarre epileptic seizures.

One moment, it decided to rain - and the downpour started as soon as we opened our umbrellas. 2 minutes later it all stopped as if nothing happened. Ten minutes passed - and terrible gusts of wind that nearly knocked us down. Sure enough, soon it was warm and mellow again. Best advice when the weather is in such a theatrical mood: keep an umbrella with you at all times.

The walk from the city center to the train station is quite long, about an hour. But at least the building of the train station is worth exploring - it has great inner decorations all over the ceiling that imitate medieval style. Outside, by the largest bike parking I've seen after Copenhagen's sleeping districts, a sad man was playing his wistful sax; there seems to be something about Belgium and saxophones.

What to see in Ghent:

Korenmarkt (basically, central square)

Church of Saint Nicholas

Saint Michael's church

Gravensteen

Stadhuis Gent

Belfort

Saint Bavo cathedral

Antwerp: The Train Station and the Sky

Antwerpen-Centraal Train Station, Antwerp

After the grey cold rain of Brussels and the crazy run of tourist-packed Bruges and (devastatingly) empty Ghent, Antwerp was all sunshine and warmth. Easily the most enjoyable time I've had in Belgium.

Antwerp is a mild, soft city, quite self-indulgent - it has less tourists than either Brussels or Bruges - and completely immersed in its own thoughts. Traces of the eternal, undying energy that preserves big cities can be found everywhere.

First things first, we went to see the jewel of Antwerp's sightseeing itinerary - Antwerpen-Centraal, the main train station of the city. It has 4 floors, with trains arriving on each of them - it is really impressive, especially as the whole structure is sunlit through the ribbed glass roof and the underground floors are dipped in orange-and-purple lights, the true impressionist study of light and color.

Antwerp has a clear itinerary, as if the city was built with the idea of easy navigation in mind. Starting from Antwerpen-Centraal and past the diamond district, the shopping streets of Antwerp start and run right to the heart of the city, Grote Markt. The walk there is short if one ignores the detour sites like the beautiful neoclassical Bourla theater with round-ish colonnade façade, the house of Rubens turned museum, the oldest house in Antwerp build circa 1480, completely wooden and still inhabited, or the baroque St Charles Borromeo church, which simplistic interior is decorated with astonishing woodwork.

The notorious diamond district of Antwerp is located right beside the train station. History has it that it all started with shops opening here so that rich people coming to Antwerp to buy diamonds could keep their incognito and leave as soon as the deal was sealed, without the need to visit the town.

Grote Markt and the nearby Groenplaats are connected with a short street that features another pearl of Antwerp, the Cathedral of Our Lady. This majestic Gothic temple is narrowly surrounded by the old houses of trading guilds glued to its every side. You cannot actually see the side walls of the Cathedral (which is another trademark feature of Flemish towns - a dead giveaway that trade was of utmost importance, and that secular and religious matters were closely connected).

Grote Markt itself looks just like other main squares in Belgium - a lot of space adapted for Christmas markets during this time of year, crowded by waffle houses with gilded statues and inscriptions dating back to the Autumn of the Middle Ages, and towering Brabantine Gothic spire, the cynosure of the city.

Stroh violin player. Stroviol is a popular instrument of street musicians, seen all over Flanders

The next thing I was agitated to see was Sint-Annatunnel - a 1/2 km tunnel under the riverbed, fully built for walking on foot, riding on bicycles and even for motorized vehicles. The escalators are wood-paneled and lacquered, the photos on the walls tell the history of construction of the tunnel as one descends.

Quay along river Scheldt, shipyard and windmills

On our way to MAS, we've taken a turn into the Antwerp red lights district. As I was quite shamelessly staring at the girls (literally) displayed in the windows, my friend surprised me, hilariously paying attention to some nesting boxes on a random tree instead. Some way to explore the city.

Don't miss on the chance to visit MAS museum. For a tourist, it's a golden opportunity: free entrance to the rooftop with stunning night panorama of Antwerp lights. From up above, the lights on the windmills twinkle red, painting an ominous image in the night skies. The walls of the interior are covered with posters of modern art (sometimes inspiring, sometimes hilarious, sometimes frightening). Besides, MAS is open till 10 PM, a rare case for Belgium.

MAS pays the oddest homages, and one of them is to Harry Potter franchise: the building features floor 9 and 1/2.

While on the roof of MAS, the pragmatism and commercial genes of Flemish people deliver nothing but pure delight. The nearby houses host advertisements for the visitors of the museum: cafes and restaurants ornament their awnings with offers of hot drinks and rich meals.

What to see in Antwerp:

Antwerpen-Centraal

diamond block

Leysstraat 32-34 and 27 (twin buildings)

Meir (shopping street)

Rubenshuis

Bourlaschouwburg

Boerentoren

Sint-Carolus Borromeuskerk

Groenplaats

Cathedral of Our Lady

Grote Markt

Brabo fountain

Stadhuis Antwerpen

Het Steen and Lange Wapper memorial

Sint-Annatunnel

Stoelstraat 11 (the oldest house of Antwerp)

Sint-Pauluskerk

Schipperskwartier (red lights district)

MAS museum (rooftop viewpoint)

What to eat:

chocolate (in all forms, whether it's box of finest pralines, a chocolate bar, or a cup of hot chocolate)

waffles (fillings vary; I personally prefer dark chocolate and whipped cream. Belgian people however have plain waffle with sugar powder)

beer (one of the oldest and most important produces of the region; brewing beer is fine art here)

frites (basically French fries, but don't call them that - it's offensive, given the fact they were not invented in France; the locals still hold their grudge over the matter)

mussels (Brussels specialty, usually go with frites on the side)

Flanders As It Is

Wandelterras Noord, quay of Antwerp, near Sint-Annatunnel. The sun gave us its last warmth of the day as we strolled along the Antwerp quay, the dark silhouettes of seagulls scattering sunbeams as we scared them off the railings

The towns of Flanders are easily recognizable. The main square is always called 'Grote Markt'; the combination of a cathedral (usually of Our Lady), a stadhuis and a belfry impending over the town is mandatory. Old houses of stone (and sometimes even wood), with stepped roofs and intricate ornaments. Waffles and chocolate on every corner, infinite varieties of beer in any pub. Add cyclists during the day or bicycle parking at night, cobblestone streets, a culture co-depending with trade - and you have a perfect portrait of a Flemish city.

It was a little vacation we all need from time to time - not spectacular but fun, warm and surprisingly full of color in this grim, gray time of the year.

#belgium #brussels #bruges #ghent #antwerp #flanders

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jflashandclash · 6 years

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Uncomfortable Crossings

Author’s Note:

I had a request over half a year ago for Calex to interact with a certain goddess. It is shameful that it took me so long to write this! I hope you enjoy despite the wait!

This takes place a year after the series’ last book, Fall of the Sun. This is based off the original ending, which has—since then—mostly changed. Mostly XD So… sort of spoilers?

Book IV’s chapter one (Will: A Stroll Through the Dark) should be released in the next week or two!) In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this short story about Calex :D

Each time Calex kicked, the football slammed directly into the goal post.

Fortunately, there was no one occupying the field to see it. That’s why he preferred the field behind the Roman hypocaust. There was a car park for tourists on holiday and for the few museum staff with cars. But most locals preferred the scenic view by the lake or the fields by the ruins of the wall around the ancient Roman city of Verulamium. The hypocaust could seem a bit dull compared to the lovely sprawl around the rest of the park.

Most of the emptiness was due to the weather. The temperature reached a record high of 31 degrees with 100% humidity. For most of Calex’s mates, this was enough to turn them into jelly puddles inside their flats, but Calex used to holiday in Liberia and had spent the last year in New York. Normally, he’d drag them out, whining and acting like babies, but he wanted to be alone today.

That’s why he was utterly shocked when his ball bounced off the goal post, popped over his shoulder, then shot straight back towards the goal from behind him.

And missed wildly.

Calex watched his ball fly into the field at least fifty meters away. Calex blinked, wondering if a professional footballer had been airlifted into the field without him hearing the helicopter and if that professional was bolluxed out of their mind.

“Oh! Sorry! Here, use my ball while I go grab that,” someone said behind him.

“Um, it’s alright—” Calex turned to see the blur go past. He doubted the girl was as fast as he was, but she was certainly fast. As she darted after the ball, he saw her beautiful locks trail behind her. Something felt off about her gait—like her steps took too long to land on the ground.

Odd, but, after learning he was a demigod, his life had been nothing but odd.

She wore a blue and white jersey, one he should recognize. The name across the back said Karagounis in what Calex quickly recognized as Greek.

He jogged after.

Calex was in no mood to be polite or have a chat. At least she wasn’t attracted to him. The knowledge wasn’t anything self-degrading—Calex knew lots of girls fancied his looks. He was a son of Eros and knowing people’s desires came with the territory.

When she reached the ball and turned to dribble back—long dribbles with little control—Calex felt himself gasp and stagger to a stop, feeling both shallow and self-centered about the previous thought.

The woman was lovelier than anyone he had ever seen. That was a grand thing, considering his grandmother was Aphrodite and he stayed with her children, his aunts and uncles, last year. He knew lovely.

She was maybe ten years older than him, in her mid-twenties, but the age made her more brilliant, like she’d suffered and aged but managed to retain her youth and merriment.

Her hair was long and waved loosely from a mix of plaits in her ponytail. The color was indescribable. At first, he thought it was like his mate, Kally, a strawberry blonde. This was darker, a subtlest cross between red, blonde, brunette, with natural highlights and lowlights from all three. Her skin had a gorgeous glow to it, not quite UK pale, but pale with a hue that cued Calex to her ability to tan.

Her face was perfect.

He didn’t think that with any exaggeration. It was perfect.

If Calex was at Camp Half-Blood, or by Mt. Olympus, he would have dropped right there to genuflect to a goddess. However, in the middle of St. Albans on a Tuesday, she might think it a bit odd or mental if he gave her the “all powerful” treatment in a football field, especially if she was just some poor women off the street who happened to practice beside a crazy demigod.

“Sorry. It has been a long time since I played soccer,” she said as she evened with him. Her English was perfect with the slightest hint of a Greek accent.

“Not a problem,” Calex said.

She smiled in relief.

He recognized that glint of relief and knew it was good he hadn’t dropped into an old fashioned grovel.

There were times he had felt insecure when he entered a room, knowing everyone’s eyes were on him, and expecting him to be perfect because his father’s DNA made him look like he should be. Most of his mates in Britain could make jokes out of it, but, in America, he was uncomfortable when someone asked if he’d been in a magazine or some obscure BBC show, or when someone would point out, “Oh… you’re African American—”

“British, actually”

“—well, yea, but you’re black and you have light eyes.”

Something about her look told him she felt something similar, a sense of humiliation due to the inability to avoid unwanted attention.[1]

Calex swore, regardless of whether or not this woman was a goddess, that he’d treat her like a normal mortal.

“That was an alright kick, Greece,” he said, “You’re sure to nail the net next time.”

Her eyes were amber with flecks of blue and green. They were vibrant, like the rest of her. “I don’t mind failing…” She glanced at the jersey his cousin had bought for him. “Arsenal. Failing is half the reward of trying. How fulfilling would life be if you attained things instantly?”

Calex thought about how he had failed to save his mum and brother from Thanatos, how Joey had died, and what had happened to Axel, Pax, and Euna after everything they’d gone through. “Reward” was an odd little word for it. His fist shook. He remembered the anger and dreariness that he’d come out here to ignore and that her beauty had temporarily disrupted.

This woman definitely couldn’t be from around here if she was that much of an optimist. One look at Israel and you wouldn’t hear their prime minister saying, “Oooo! Sorry about that. Let’s try that again!”

“Some things you can only fail once,” he said.

His ball thumped gently into his foot.

His head was light and ached. He felt like such rubbish that he didn’t want to look at her again.

“Pass the ball with me,” she said. “We’ll make a wager. If I lose, then I’ll concede that you’re right. If I win, then you’ll show me around St. Albans.”

Calex had too many wagers in his life already, particularly ones involving a lot of death or undeath situations. While, in technical terms, his friends from Camp Half-Blood would call him a “lucky son of a respectable man since we would never say anything to upset Calex’s papi,” he wasn’t sure he wanted to bet his luck any further.

“What’s the wager?” he asked.

“I need to get the ball from you,” she said.

Calex felt himself give a heartfelt laugh. “Not bloody likely.”

“Then you have nothing to lose,” she said. “You’re already practicing, foolishly suffering from dehydration, and determined to hit the goal post instead of the net. So you might be better off reminding someone who is rusty how it’s done.”

Calex wouldn’t admit it if asked, but he had fun. This woman—Greece as he’d taken to calling her—had a contagious laugh, had no problem giggling over her own mistakes and making him chuckle at his own, was curious about every aspect of the game, listened to him talk about Arsenal for longer than the Queen could sit at a ceremony, and would excitedly interject with stories of her own. It was like everything was an adventure to her, every experience was fun.

Calex felt like he’d lost that since he’d come back to Hertfordshire and left his friends in New York.

She’d chided him into drinking some water. Like her beauty, her vivacity had shaken him out of his angst. Something about her put him at ease and felt familiar, like the coolest aunt he’d forgotten from childhood. Enough so that, when he was dribbling to their stuff to get another sip of water, he didn’t register what she was doing when she jumped in front of him, forcing him to stop short or knock her over.

Calex stumbled to a stop.

She turned and gave him a huge grin. “I got the ball from you.”

“That doesn’t’ count,” he said.

“It does.” She crunched her face up playfully. The more they interacted and the more he treated her like a typical bloke off the trolley, the more she’d relaxed into this playful, excited demeanor. “It does because you want to show me around. Come along. I’ll treat you to lunch.”

They walked around the town. Calex showed her the stuff tourists usually hyped over: the Cathedral—at which she demanded they make a quick sacrifice to honor the cathedral’s god, something Calex found profoundly baffling[2]—the rest of the park, the clock tower, and some of the nurseries. He was relieved she didn’t ask to go into Verulamium’s museum, the place he felt like he knew better than his own home and whose staff he wanted to punch at that moment.

After winding through the streets full of people exhausted from the heat, they ended up in Café Rouge, a posh French restaurant that Tiwa had liked. When he stepped in, looking at the checkered red-and-clear stained windows, his stomach dropped.

When his mum was exhausted after a shift at the hospital, he remembered her coming here, sitting in the corner booth with the red velvet cloth, and ordering a tea and a chicken club croque. During summer holiday, when they weren’t at her clinic in Kakata, he would come here to meet up with her, Tom, Gretchen, and Winston when he could.

The glass paneled roof made this place look and feel like a botanical garden, too hot, too humid, and on display for the gods to watch.

Calex wished he hadn’t come here.

Their usual waitress, Amelia, immediately recognized him and gave him a shy smile. He hadn’t seen her in almost a year.

Although Calex had led them here without thinking, he turned to leave with a cough and a wave of parting.

“There’s a good table in the center,” Greece suggested. She took Calex’s arm, like he was the one escorting her, and led him over to the table. She gestured at one of the two-seaters that was in a line of empty two-seaters and Amelia nodded.

“Um—” Calex started.

She sat down and Amelia hopped over faster than he could whisper, “I’ve been abducted by a beautiful woman, help!”

“What would you like to drink?” Amelia asked.

“Surprise me,” Greece said. She clasped her hands together, smiling at the tiny brunette. “And I mean it. Any price, any style, form mocktails to fiz. If you want, flip a coin between you and the other waitress and bring me out the favorite drink of whoever gets heads.”

Amelia paused in writing something down to blink at Greece. Normally, he guessed Amelia would think Greece mental, but Calex assumed Amelia struggled with the same problem that he was: Greece’s contagious smile, her natural confidence, and startlingly genuine excitement that made him want to trust her. Normally, such cheer would make him think she was mad and here to rob him, the restaurant, the city, and likely the country of all of her goods. But, for some inexplicable reason, Greece’s demeanor kept putting him at ease and made him feel like this was the right time and place for all things to exist.

“The usual for you then?” Amelia asked Calex.

He nodded and smiled. “Thanks, Amelia.”

She blushed. “It’s good to have you back,” she said. For a split second, Calex realized she’d thought about him without his trousers on.

He cleared his throat, something he hoped she mistook for embarrassment at the comment.

Amelia walked away.

Greece watched their interaction with amusement. “So, is it romantic love or familial that’s the problem?” she asked, leaning forward a little.

Calex must have heard her wrong. “Excuse me?”

“Something has been bothering you all day,” she said.

They went silent for a moment when Amelia brought them their drinks and took their orders.

“Same? Surprise and usual?” Amelia asked, pointing her pen to each of them in turn.

Both nodded.

Calex tried to ignore that Amelia was systematically undressing him in her mind. Some days, he could ignore things like that. Today, he was struggling not to “listen in” on other people’s wants.

She walked away and Calex tucked his scarf against his neck.

“You’re quite presumptuous, aren’t you?” he asked while he sipped his tomato juice. He didn’t like the drink anymore and would have rather a Hoegaarden, but he hadn’t the heart to change things up on Amelia or find out what article of clothing would come off next time in her mind cinema. He would order it when she brought the food and would hope that each of his socks counted as separate pieces of clothing in her game.

“You’re seventeen.” Greece shrugged.

Calex frowned. He had to wonder if she knew it was his birthday or if she’d gotten a lucky guess on his age. Her question made his mind wander to what had upset him that morning.

She shrugged. “And, it’s summer break, so you’re not worried about revision for A levels or entering sixth form.”

Calex examined her wearily. Out of his new friends, only Axel and—dare he call him a friend?—Pax had known anything about his school system. Apparently the structure was similar in Belize. But was it in Greece? Was she actually from Greece?

“Who am I going to tell?” she asked, mistaking the source of his growing suspicion.

Typically, an innate sense of trust made him want to distrust people more, like they were looking to gain something. He felt a part of his heart give though. This woman gave him such an irrational sense of livelihood, of wanting to experience the world, and chat about the things he loved and scream about the things he hated, it made him lightheaded. And, had she not come by that morning, he’d have likely finished at the fields, and then locked himself in his room all day.

“There is a girl,” he found himself saying.

Greece gave him a lovely smile. “What is she like?”

“She’s…” He thought about the times Merry had publically humiliated him. “Merciless. Yea, merciless. That one is.”

Greece laughed, a fantastic sound. “And here I was, expecting ‘beautiful’ or ‘intelligent.’”

“Oh, she is. Quite good at making me laugh too.” He marveled over how well Merry could store information in her head and use it to outwit others—whether monsters or crude blokes—and, how she could make guesses about future events in Camp Half-Blood, mostly involving people’s dating lives. He pictured Merry’s dark eyes contrasted with her honey skin and the curves of her body. She looked like a Victoria Secret model with a hardy appetite, and Calex wouldn’t change a single thing about her brain or her physique. Well… except…

“She’s quite alright,” he said.

“And..?” Greece asked.

Calex sighed. He lifted up his drink and set it on the table. What he would change…

“She isn’t attracted to me. At all. She isn’t attracted to anyone.”

He waited for Greece to say he couldn’t know that, a completely reasonable response for someone who didn’t know he was a son of Eros and that he could tell when shy waitresses had him on their mental tele with much less clothing, much more interest in public displays of affection, and much less respect for restaurant sanitation. Instead, Greece frowned thoughtfully, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m not sure she’ll ever find any bloke physically attractive.” Calex remembered all the times she’d make flirtatious comments about people’s bodies, like empty reverberations of gossip she’d heard. She never felt it. She would just say it to make people laugh or to contribute to a conversation. And, Calex feared, to feel normal.

This is where he should stop, but the words slipped out. “She said she loves me.” He remembered how she had snuggled into his chest, calling him her sweet, sexy teddy bear. But, he couldn’t read emotional love. That was Piper’s, his aunt’s, territory. Merry’s confession had taken him by dumbfounded surprise, since those words were typically preluded by some sort of physical attraction.

“That made it worse. I want… I want an all-inclusive relationship. It wouldn’t need to be immediate. I would wait however long she wanted and we could talk through everything. But that’s assuming Merry would ever want that. What if she never wants it? Nothing says she needs to nor should she ever feel pressured if it’s not something she’s interested in…”

There was no better way for him to explain it. He knew, physically, how to properly take care of everyone he got close to. That’s why people would come to him for advice, like the time Axel had, shaking with embarrassment, asked about one of his dates with Reyna, and the time Kally had timidly asked some generic questions on how things worked when you’re copping off.[3]

Even if Calex didn’t want to know, the sense of what everyone wanted was in a neat queue, waiting for use by him or as advice for others. He knew what to do at any time to really get their engines roaring. But, he didn’t with Merry. It was a blank slate. Everyone else had a rolling instruction manual that he could access in a split second. But, he didn’t want them. He didn’t care about those instruction manuals. He wanted to show Merry how much he appreciated her in the way his godly heritage had given him the unquestionable advantage, but… he couldn’t. She was the only reason he could guess why other blokes were so nervous interacting sexually. Typically, he was full of the confidence of knowing. Not with Merry. Not when she didn’t want to get physically intimate with anyone and nothing he knew of could spike any sense of desire.

He didn’t know how to explain any of that without coming across as a total creep.

“I know that’s selfish,” he said instead. “It’s not that I wouldn’t mind waiting. If I knew, in a few years…” There was no acceptable way to end that line of dialogue with a stranger, or—really—with anyone.

“No…” Greece frowned and Calex was ready for a proper (and well earned with how much of a dodgy perv he sounded) feminist lashing. “Calex, that isn’t selfish.”

Calex blinked. “Yes, it is.”

She laughed. “No, it isn’t. That’s a compatibility conflict. And, for someone like you, that is a serious compatibility conflict. From the way you’re talking and the way you are, I know you’re not seeking your own sexual gratification. How many times would you pleasure Merry without getting any reciprocation and even noticing or caring that you hadn’t?”

“Hundreds, if not thousands,” he said reflexively.

When he realized that those were real words that came out of his mouth, he glanced around, to make sure Amelia hadn’t heard to use that for her mental tele. Calex took a long sip of tomato juice, desperately wishing he had Merry’s power to turn it into something a bit stronger. His mind sprinted through excuses as to why he would need to leave this table in a hurry, and wondered if this woman would believe him if he said he had an appointment to slog Boris Johnson in the face.[4]

Greece, however, acted like this question was a typical Tuesday question. “Probably the same number of times Merry would help you study for an exam without ever feeling like you owed her a favor.”

Calex felt like they’d just been chatting about a meat eater repeatedly offering a vegetarian an endless chicken supply, and that Greece had brought up the time the vegetarian offered the meat eater an endless supply of slinkies. Calex wasn’t sure if Greece just had a time lapse or if she was just stark raving mad.

She confused Calex enough to make him say, “But, I don’t care about revision for my exams.”

“That’s my point. You express your love differently, in different languages, and don’t have any common communication ground, beyond the enjoyment of each other’s presence.” She sipped her sparkling drink and grinned. “Ah! Fizz la Poire! What a nice combo.”

Calex wished it would be as simple as she’d suggested. “So, you’re telling me to pull a girl by studying with her? That’s the secret to the Merry Snog: a good math textbook.”

Merry, he realized, would fancy that official title quite a bit.

Greece shook her head. “You’re missing the point. The studying is the snog to her.”

“I’m not sure I follow you.”

Greece laughed lightly. “You’re just like your father.”

Calex almost choked on his next sip of the thick juice. “Excuse me?” His suspicion came back to hit him like a power kick from Alexis Sanchez.[5]

She shook her head in pleasant amusement. “You need to consider what is important to the two of you and where you can both compromise. Can you be in a relationship where you both feel unloved because you don’t understand each other’s methods of expressing love? You both might feel more fulfilled with someone who naturally expresses their affection in a way you appreciate and understand. Then you both won’t feel guilty for expecting something that isn’t there or holding the other back. The guilt you’re feeling about wanting to spend time with Merry in a particular way and knowing she wouldn’t want that—have you considered that she feels the same guilt for a different unfulfilled want?”

“I hardly think that’s an appropriate comparison,” Calex said. He mentally toured through the various times Merry had offered to study with him, help him with his homework, or look through summer job applications. Kally, Merry’s best friend, had explained that Merry was mental over keeping a 4.0. The queasiness in Calex’s stomach told him Greece was right. Merry showed her affection to her mum and brother, Nikhil, by helping them with school and work. Had he been a total idiot? But having someone study with you when they were bored of it and having them snog you when they were bored of it were two very different things.

Greece smiled. “It’s closer than you’re allowing yourself to think. You two might be better off with someone more compatible. Couples can make it work when they don’t express love the same way or click immediately. I wasn’t enthralled with my husband when we first met, but, in no time, I want to Tartarus and back again for him.”

She touched her shoulder, her eyes glassy with a memory. They warmed back to the present. “Times are different now. You can’t start your relationship by kidnapping your princess. Back to your modern scenario, you could sit there and study with her, despite not caring about the studying at all, and she could—”

“No,” Calex said firmly, checking goddess on his internal description of this woman. “She’s… she’s offered to try. But, I can’t even kiss her when I know she’s not interested in kissing. Even if her reaction is disinterest instead of dislike, what’s the point if she’s not enjoying herself?”

“And that, ‘What’s the point?’ is how she feels about any of the ways she wants to express her emotion. That’s why I was going to say, you could push through it, but I’m not sure it would be healthy for either of you right now. Maybe later, but not now. And I certainly don’t think either of you will be able to happily live life, enjoy it, and experience it, and potentially other people, if you leave the situation in limbo.”

Calex frowned. He thought about Merry’s smile when she knew she’d cornered someone with blackmail or the way she’d tease him by bumping against him on “accident.”

“That’s not the uplifting, encouraging speech I was expecting,” he admitted.

She shrugged. “I’m not going to encourage you to do something that will hold you back from expressing yourself the way you most enjoy. And I won’t say you should do something that will prevent you from living life in a way that’s important to you. If you’re anything like your father, you’ve quite an appetite, and it would make you miserable to suppress it.”

Calex sat there, stunned.

No one would ever say that about Winston.

Had she really—? There was no way. No one in their polite, right mind—

“Oh gods, you’re Psyche,” he said. He had to set his tomato juice down to balance himself against the table. “Oh gods. You just said that about my dad. Please don’t ever, ever, EVER refer to his appetite—or—or refer to you two—augh—shagging ever again.”

Psyche released a beautiful, heartfelt laugh. “For being a son of Eros, you’re incredibly uncomfortable with these discussions. Your sister, Hedone, is very forward about this type of thing.”

“I’m awkward and British!” Calex cried. “I’m not absolutely mental like you Greek gods!”

Maybe Calex shouldn’t have been mouthing off to a goddess, specifically not his step-mother, but this was a bit to take in.

“And—and why are you even here? Aren’t you supposed to think… rather unpleasantly of me?” All the stories he’d heard of gods meeting their step children didn’t end with fairies and sunshine and the god or goddess crying, “There’s my favorite proof of adultery!”

Her smile softened. “Calex, Eros and I have been together for thousands of years. Every couple hundred years, one of us will meet someone as remarkable as your mother. Then, we discuss it and have our agreements. It would be ridiculous for me to hate someone Eros loves so much, especially someone who has grown into an impressive young man. I’ve wanted to meet you, but this is the first birthday you really knew who you were.”

A sick taste hit his mouth. The hopelessness and dreariness of the morning threatened to overtake him again. A lot had changed since his last birthday.

“Your father is going to drop by later today,” she said. “He had to do a favor for your grandmother so she doesn’t notice the two of us here with you.”

Calex wasn’t worried about his father. Compared to other half-bloods, he saw his dad a lot. Over the last year, Eros had not been shy with gifts or advice.

That wasn’t what was unsettling Calex. “Did you know Tiwa?” he asked quietly.

Tiwa didn’t strike Calex as someone capable of being a mistress. He could imagine his mum marching up to Psyche as soon as she discovered Eros was married. And he certainly couldn’t think she would be like Mrs. Blythe, Merry’s mother who was… intimate with both Ariadne and Dionysus. Definitely filing that into Things He Never Wanted to Know.[6]

“I mostly knew of her,” Psyche said. She leaned back into her chair. The sunrays beaming through the glass ceiling hit her back; Calex’s eyes widened when he saw an array of color flowering around her chair and sweeping by her feet: wings. Butterfly wings. The Mist must have coated them before, but the brilliant colors shimmered like a stained glass frame for her hair. Like everything else about her, they were vibrant to the point of breathtaking. “We met over tea a few times. She was… fearless despite the fact that she knew I was a goddess. She wanted to make sure everyone knew exactly what was happening between the three of us. She didn’t trust Eros acting as a messenger.”

“She always liked to make sure things were done correctly,” Calex said.

Psyche laughed. “That’s a generous understatement.”

Staring at the colors of Psyche’s wings, he could picture his mum’s soft face, whether in a smile to appreciate a witty joke or a terrifying scowl to ridicule Calex for some act of stupidity. Calex swallowed. That horrible emptiness from this morning seeped into his system.

He told himself not to—that he didn’t want to talk about it. Still, the words came out of his mouth. “I used to resent going to mum’s clinic in Kakata every holiday. I often had to spend my birthday there, with Tom and Mum, while my mates were off in Playa Del Ingles, Saint-Tropez, or some other posh beach.”

Now, Calex wished he could be there. He wished he could have woken up this morning to his great granddad poking him and his brother with a walking cane while muttering a cryptic, Liberian aphorism. Then he and Tom, whining and complaining about the heat, would escort Mum to her clinic for a day of hard labor.

Now, when it came to his mum and brother, some days were better than others. He could sometimes laugh with Winston about something Tom used to do, or how hopeless they both were in the kitchen without Tiwa around. Other days, the house was quiet and cold without the buoyant conversation about Tiwa’s nightshift or Tom’s football match. Most of the time, Gretchen ran out with her mates, and Calex and Winston were working.

Today, Calex felt numb.

“Chiron said I could stay at Camp Half-Blood this summer, but Winston needs me here. He can barely afford the flat’s rent without Tiwa’s helping to pay. We might need to move. That’s one of the reasons I was so mad at Marie—the museum head—for forcing me to take the day off. I don’t care that it’s my birthday. They never cared about stuff like that before.”

He shrugged. “But… but this is my first birthday without my mum or brother. Gretchen won’t talk to me much. She hasn’t since… since I survived and the others didn’t.”

His little sister worried him and Winston, but he didn’t feel like there was much he could do. It felt like… felt like she blamed him for living, like it was his fault that their home had fallen apart.

Psyche didn’t say anything. She reached across the table and gently set a hand atop his. Over the last year, he’d become more accustomed to brash touching—Pax and Kally made sure to that. This was different. Something about her touch—she understood loss. Calex wondered how many lovers and children Psyche watched succumb to old age or sudden tragedy.

They sat in silence for a moment.

“Mum would scold me for dwelling on it so much. Tom would have hit me and told me I was being a twat. Especially on my birthday…” Calex laughed softly.

“Calex, you need to let yourself feel without getting mad about the feelings.” She squeezed his hand.

Calex glanced at her blue and white jersey, now shimmering into a sleeveless, short chiton, her glossy wings and hair, her sweet face and warm eyes. If she hadn’t met him at the football field, he would have kept to himself all day, with his phone off to ignore any contact with his mates. Gretchen would have stormed into the house without a word to him and Winston would have come home from work and collapsed in front of the tele without Tiwa to remind him of their birthdays.

Here, he was out of the flat, chatting with a goddess about his lunatic love prospects and his family. Insane, but much less bleak than he’d expected the day to go.

Calex didn’t know how to show his gratitude to Psyche.

The sadness in Psyche’s eyes made Calex squeeze her hand back. She raised her Fizz la Poir. “To living life in honor of those we miss,” she suggested.

He tilted his glass to hers. “I really need to get a different drink for toasting. I think Tom might be offended,” he said, taking a sip of his tomato juice.

They smiled.

The restaurant door opened and closed. Calex didn’t look over, but could hear some female giggles.

Now that he’d mentioned changing out his drink, Calex had to wonder where Amelia went. Normally, she was—

“There’s my favorite Teddy Bear.”

For a split second, he could see Psyche’s smile tweak with amusement. Then, the world vanished behind two perfect breasts as someone wrapped him in huge hug.

When the person withdrew, Calex found Merry beaming down at him. That green and gold, low-cut sundress wouldn’t have looked half as good on anyone other than her. Her hair was curled and Calex ached to realize this was the first time he’d seen Merry in smart dress for a party.

Glancing around Merry, he saw this was, indeed, a party. Kally gave him a huge grin and wave. She had her—and presumably Merry’s—birthday gifts under one arm. Her other arm held the unmistakable colors of her Manchester United jacket. Calex was happy the weather was too hot for her to get mugged for putting it on in the wrong town. Behind Kally, Piper and Jason entered the restaurant, glancing around the glass ceiling.

Paul, his crazy cousin, and one of their Arsenal hooligan mates stepped in after, noticed how Merry kept snug against Calex’s side and how Psyche sat across from him and gave Calex a subtle thumbs up.

“When did all of you get here?” Calex asked, baffled. He glanced at Psyche who was innocently sipping at her drink. “Did you do this?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. I offered to get you here for lunch. That is the extent of my foreplanning.”

“This did this,” Merry said and pointed to herself. “You have a child of parties and revelry before you and you accuse someone else of orchestrating a shindig. I’m personally offended, birthday boy.”

A wave of euphoria struck Calex, and he didn’t think it was from Merry’s powers. He hadn’t seen any of them since he left America, at least a month ago. Electronics never agreed with demigods, so he struggled to properly keep in touch. Talking to his mates at home was uncomfortable. Everyone treated him different since he got back. Until Calex saw their smiling faces, he hadn’t known how much he’d missed them.

“Hi Calex!” Piper cheered. “Lacy had to pick up someone else, but she and Mitchell are looking for parking right now.”

Jason nodded. “Percy and Annabeth send their best, but they had some college-level monsters pop up.”

“We had a few ‘maybe’ responses, but the important people are here,” Kally said and punched his arm.

Out of his peripheral, he could see Amelia rush out with a pre-prepared tray of sparkling beverages. Paul and his mate, Oliver, helped her to set up some space for them.

“The most important people, Cyclops?”

Calex, Merry, Kally, Piper, Jason, and—to Calex’s alarm—Psyche, all jumped at the couple that entered the restaurant.

For a split second, Calex dropped his hand to his pencil pouch, containing Soul Pain, his bow. After a breath, he recognized the new occupant. It was someone younger and much more annoying than the person Calex had mistook the boy for. Beside the boy was someone else that Calex thought he may never ever see again.

Pax wore a familiar burgundy button-down and dress pants. His wild raven hair was combed back into a sloppy ponytail that curled and twisted. He wore his fully loaded utility belt with poisons and serums. Two revolvers hung out of his shoulder holsters and atop suspenders that were lined with darts. He winked his golden eye at Kally.

Calex had to wonder what the Mist turned all those weapons into when Pax was on the street.

Pax held his automaton hand out to escort a young woman Calex also didn’t recognize initially.

Upon examining her, Calex could tell she wasn’t wearing real clothing. The… dress? Or sometimes body suit..? The clothing she wore trembled and altered as they walked closer. The mesh itself came from intertwining leaves, vines, and flowers. Petals fell from it as she walked, leaving a trail of colors. Her feet were bare. The only solid thing that she wore was a sickle strapped across her back with a vine. Her unkempt hair was enlaced with more beautiful flowers, ones—Calex thought—he remembered being poisonous.

Her dark gaze was turned upward so she could grin at the glass ceiling.

When she met his stare, she smiled like they’d seen each other yesterday. “Hey. Nice choice in restaurant. What’s their best meal?”

“Euna?” Kally asked, covering her mouth with one hand.

Like Calex, her fingers had dropped into her messenger bag in a reflexive search for a weapon.

“Yes, a happy Euna, that looks completely normal and you should compliment her on realizing floral was in this summer,” Pax said.

Jason opened and closed his mouth, glaring at Pax suspiciously. Everyone knew the Romans had been searching for these two. Piper tugged on Jason’s hand. “It’s nice to have everyone together for Calex’s birthday, isn’t it?” she asked.

Calex could feel the calm of Piper’s tone.

“Yep,” Merry piped in. “All here to relax and party.”

Between the two of them, the tension in Jason’s arm muscles eased. Calex and Kally released their weapons. Piper tugged Jason to the side to look at a menu.

A bee flew off one of Euna’s shoulder plants as she and Pax approached Calex. She held out a hand and a root twisted down her arm to her palm. Upon resting there, something sprouted, in fast motion, and a beautiful grey and purple flower appeared. “I made you a flower,” she said. “It will alternate blooming from mid-spring to late autumn. And, as Axel would have recommended, you can use its leaves to kill your enemies. But, for real, what is the best thing on this menu?”

She set the flower into the vase on the table. All the other plants in the vase rose up to her hand, coming to full bloom.

“Lovely,” Calex said, staring at the beautiful, deadly plant, so close to where they were going to eat. “And—um—for you? Probably the Boeuf Bourguignon.” He said, fumbling to think of the most filling thing on the menu. He was so taken aback by her appearance—someone he thought he’d never see again, he felt silly giving lunch recommendations instead of giving her a hug.

She nodded, took a table, and was immediately set upon by Paul. Kally rushed over to make sure Paul didn’t unsettle the volatile daughter of Demeter. Calex had to wonder what Paul saw when he looked at Euna—a cute Korean girl in a floral dress? Someone nearly naked with… what would he think the sickle was?

Psyche’s eyes trailed Euna’s movements, proving not everyone invited knew about everyone else that could be coming. He imagined Merry “forgetting” that she’d be inviting Euna and a goddess and—if his dad showed up—a god. At least Euna either didn’t recognize Psyche or didn’t care. From their conversations that morning, Calex could also imagine Psyche coming regardless.

Pax withdrew something from a pouch on his utility belt. “She brought you a birthday gift. I bring you bribery.”

He handed Calex an envelope.

“The closest thing to a gift that a Pax boy can give when he doesn’t want to sleep with the receiver,” Merry said.

Pax tsked. “Merry, don’t jump to conclusions. I could have great interest in Calex.”

“Don’t even joke,” Calex hissed. He broke the seal. “I ought to open this now, oughtn’t I? In case there’s some sort of Morpheus powder?”

He expected it to be a drawing of weasels devouring him, as Pax had promised to make in the past.

Instead, there was a check.

For a moment of stupid belief, Calex felt his jaw drop. With as much firm denial as he’d previously felt awe, he said, “This is fake.”

Pax gave him that half-grin. “Now, really, you can’t know that until it bounces and you look like an idiot at the bank.”

Calex glared. He leaned forward. Short of excusing themselves, there was no way to keep Merry and Psyche from listening, but he had to put up the illusion of privacy. Judging from their overtly feigned ignorance and they way they lunged into a seeming personal conversation for supposed strangers, he suspected they knew exactly what was in this envelope before he’d opened it. “Pax, what dodgy thing did you do to get it and what are you getting at by pretending to offer this to me?”

“I haven’t done anything dodgy to get this,” Pax said. His fingers made a metallic clacking noise as they shuffled along his utility belt. “I was talking to your step-mom—”

“Aunt,” Psyche interrupted both their and her and Merry’s conversation. “Step-mom feels weird.”

“Auntie,” Pax corrected. “About your situation—”

Betrayal twisted Calex’s stomach. He hadn’t felt comfortable telling anyone, including Psyche, about his family’s financial situation. Now she was yapping to others? But… there was no way. He just spoke of it a few minutes ago…

“—with the whole Pax Pharmaceutical Company drugging and kidnapping you and causing you all that trauma,” Pax said flippantly.

Calex stared. “Pardon?”

“Pax Pharmaceuticals is currently going through a rebranding, but it would really hurt our image if word got out that members of the organization had done some nasty things.”

“Wait—” Calex could never forget the horrible events Pax was referencing—a year ago when Santiago Pax kidnapped all of them, drugged he and Merry, and killed Joey Song, Euna’s sister. That wasn’t where his confusion lay. “You’re actually bribing me?” he asked. Pax had been as much a traumatized victim as the rest of them.

In the bluntest answer Pax had ever said to him, the young Mayan gave him a sly smile. “Yes. Happy Bribe Day.”

“I put my hush money into a fund for Nikhil to go to university,” Merry said cheerily. “And he thought it was for us to go to Disney.”

“How cruel,” Psyche said.

Calex swallowed, staring at the check. “Psyche… you threatened to sue him?”

“Threatened is a strong word,” Pax said.

Psyche took a sip from her drink and gave him one of those dazzling smiles. Her wings fluttered.

Calex didn’t like the idea of owing this dodgy bloke a favor, even if the favor was silence. As he stared at the digits, he thought about how long this check would last them if Winston downsized their housing and they were careful. The money he made from his summer job could go towards plane tickets to visit his mates in America and, like how Merry was using hers, maybe go into a college fund for Gretchen. And, if they accepted it, at least then he’d know any money Gretchen made would go towards new clothing instead of rent.

“I’m thinking about using Kally’s money to take her on some surprise vacations,” Pax said.

Merry clucked her tongue. “Using hush money from a kidnapping to fund further kidnappings. Pax, you naughty one.”

“Oh!” He snapped his fingers, fishing out another envelope. “Wait—Calex, this is more important. Here is your birthday gift.”

After the first envelope’s content, Calex was worried. He tore it open to look inside, wondering if he should wait until later—

And found a depiction of a colossal weasel attacking Big Ben with what Calex could only assume was a stick-figure version of himself hanging out of the animal’s mouth.

He wanted to express to Pax how much he hated him, but couldn’t rectify that with the weird need to give the boy a hug.

Instead, Calex took something out of Axel’s old book of Etiquette in the Face of Pax and simply sighed, deciding to worry over the check later and enjoy the party.

Although the odd intermixing of groups was a right mess, Calex had a fantastic time. He enjoyed watching Paul and Oliver fawn hopelessly over Euna, Psyche, and Kally, watching Kally and Paul argue over football, and watching Psyche awkwardly dodge around Pax’s audacious humor. Poor Kally didn’t know what to do when Pax turned on his charm full blast.

Calex had to wonder what his mates would say if Eros really did show up. Others had said they could see the resemblance between the two of them. Would Paul and Oliver lose their minds to hear about Calex’s biological dad?

All that faded away though when the best birthday present possible walked into the restaurant. Calex was in mid-laugh, watching Pax snark one of the fizzy drinks up his nose when he saw Lacy and Mitchell—children of Aphrodite that he’d shared a cabin with last year—step inside. Behind them, the lanky, nervous figure of Winston came through, babbling about being late. Lastly, there were four teenage girls.

Three of them were people he hadn’t really seen much since they moved to St. Albans from their tiny flat in London when Calex was very young. One, a teenage girl with black-streaked blonde hair and punk clothing, winked at him, and he knew he would have to pretend he hadn’t seen her within the last year.

Lastly, came a beautiful girl with frizzy black hair, caramel eyes, and a deep tan. She wore punk clothing that ought to have died a decade earlier, though Calex was certain she’d gotten them from the blonde. Calex had to marvel over how the fierceness in Gretchen’s eyes reminded him of Tiwa’s.

They roamed inside as though their presence had nothing to do with the party—except that two of the girls, Liz and Emma if he remembered properly, where giggling and gasping at Calex’s presence. Gretchen always hated it when her friends got crushes on him.

On their way to a booth in the corner, the blonde nudged Gretchen’s arm and whispered to her. “Come onnn, Gretch. Your brother isn’t half as annoying as mine.”

Gretchen sighed, jammed her hands into her pockets, and glared at Calex. “Happy birthday or whatever,” she said.

Those were the first words she had said to him in weeks.

Calex knew she’d be furious if made a deal out of it.

Before he could bollocks the situation, she and her friends continued to the booth, away from the rest of them. Calex smiled after them, tuning out the noise from the other party guests. Although he still missed his mum and brother, everything felt… lighter…

When Calex brought his attention back to Pax’s antics, Psyche caught his eye and tilted her glass towards him.

Calex tilted his—now a proper pint—back towards her. She was right. He still needed to find a way to thank her, Merry, and Gretchen for making this day a brilliant one. For now, he decided he would keep true to their toasting, and live life to the fullest in honor of those he missed.

Footnotes:

[1] Calex would CRINGE at how full of himself this makes him sound. He would like to apologize and offer Pax shirts to all.

[2] Pike’s betaediting comment: “We slaughtered an ox right quick to honor God, no big deal, a little off, I suppose, but not any weirder than anything those hooligans get to after the World Cup.”

[3] Much to Calex’s irritation and frustration at which people she looks at as love interests.

[4] British Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs

[5] Forward for Arsenal. Ehem. Until Manchester United, Kally’s favorite team, swiped him in 2018. However, in this book series’ timeline, Alexis would have just started his Arsenal career. Can you imagine the look of horror on Calex’s face when he found out one of Arsenal’s best players was being transferred to Kally’s team?

[6] Mel suggests a quick dip in the River Lithe. Supposedly cures that RIGHT up.

Thank you for the read! And thanks for the request from anon!

#Traitors of Olympus #Short story #PJO #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #HOO #fanfiction #OC #Calex Rupin McKenzie #Psyche #Jason #Piper #Pax #Euna #Kally #Merry #Sadie (spot the sadie!)#Sorry I disappeared for so long!#Should be back to full gear in about a week or two!

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furtho · 6 years

Text

Playlist 2017

Music posted on furtho.tumblr.com during 2017:

48 Chairs’ Snap It Around, spikily joyful new wave

ABC’s The Look Of Love (12″), classic early 80s extended remix

xAF Moebius’ Blau, minimal synth from 1980s East Germany

A-ha’s Soft Rains Of April (piano demo), exposing the inner workings of the gloomy pop gods

Akira Kosemura’s Luna, gentle piano arpeggios

Alex Kolobolis' Closure, lightly elegant, floating piano

Aline’s Elle M’Oubliera, icy cool Francophone indie

xAlliance’s At The Dawn, 1980s synthpop from the Soviet Union

Alligator’s Riviera, angular minimal wave from exciting new French duo

Analogue Dear’s Obrecht, haunting piano ballad

Anna Meredith’s Honeyed Words, swoopy gloopy electronic drone

Aphex Twin’s Aisatsana [102], Satie pastiche of quiet piano patterns

Arsenic!’s Pure Ideology, ramshackle but heartfelt dreampop

Arvo Pärt’s Summa For Strings, poised, eternally unresolved modern classical minimalism

Asuna’s Her Fringe, Ferris Wheel, Ruins Of Twisted Yarn, gently interweaving acoustic loops

Australian Testing Labs Inc’s Moto Moto, pulsing motorik tones, with suitably hypnotic video

A Year In The Country’s A Measuring, fractured electronic sketch

Bachelorette’s Blanket, the warm embrace of analog synthpop

Beat Mark’s Flowers, sweet-but-scrunchy-chorded indie from France

Best Picture’s Isabelle, modern rock ‘n’ roll, huh

Blankscreen’s Dead Planet, gripping spoken-word post-punk

Blue Plutos’ Disagree, ecstatic Rickenbacker-driven janglepop

Brian Eno & Harold Budd’s An Arc Of Doves, ambient experimentalism shot through with warmth

Burning Hearts’ In My Garden, welcome return of the Finnish indie titans

Caroline Devine’s Driftspace, Space Ham, something for everyone: field recordings, radio experimentation and an interview with an astronaut

Casiotone For The Painfully Alone’s We Have Mice, bedroom pop supreme

Caught In The Wake Forever’s Under Blankets, super-slow evolving drone

Chuck Johnson’s Balsams album, mystifyingly successful slide guitar meets ambient drone

Chumbawamba’s You Can (Mass Trespass, 1932), acoustic paean to Benny Rothman and the Kinder Scout trespassers

Cindy & The Gidget Haters’ Pogoin’’s For Me, shoutily engaging homemade new wave

Closure’s Slow Drive, Motorama-esque doom-indie from Jakarta

CM-DX’s Radiophonic Reprographics, paean to the office photocopier

Colleen’s Your Heart Is So Loud, musical box rendered as looping, enchanting lo-fi ambient

Cosmic Ground’s The Watcher, long-form kosmische ambient

David Evans’ Suddenly Woken By The Sound Of Stillness album, field recording on the Trans-Siberian Railway

Deutsche Bank’s Zero Gravity, seamless post-Komputer synthpop

dné's Asos Model Crush, homemade percussion coupled with delicious piano composition

Dominique Grange’s Les Nouveaux Partisans, Maoist folkpop from late 60s France

Echopet’s Strung, tightly organised short-form drone

epic45′s Monument (Isan remix), blissed-out synth remix

Even As We Speak’s Bizarre Love Triangle, charming jangly cover of the New Order classic

Fader’s Laundrette, bleak kitchen sink electronic ballad

Fieldhead’s Accents, contemplative modern electronics

Foliage’s Dare, glossily frantic dreampop

Francisco The Man’s Take A Picture (Bodies In The Sun), driving Alvvays-esque indie rock

Freezepop’s Stakeout (Donnerschlag remix), Casiocore classic

Galaxians’ Out They Minds, super-catchy funky disco-house thang

Get Smart!’s Just For The Moment, dark-but-trebly post-Joy Division pop

Ghost And Tape’s Vár, spellbinding clack-and-crackle ambient

Good Shoes’ The Way My Heart Beats, fuzzed up Buzzcocks-y guitar pop

Greg Haines’ Azure, dramatic slow-build ambient

Group A’s Initiation (Tom Furse remix), darkly relentless synthpop

Grouper’s Holding, hold-your-breath gorgeous lofi pianoism

Günter Schlienz’s Outer Corridors Of Space, light ambient arpeggios

Hakobune’s Airworthy, weightless drifting ambiance

Hand Of Stabs’ A Month Of Sundays, creepy improv weirdness from the back lanes of Kent

Hidden Rivers’ In And Out Of Days, light-of-touch chiming ambient

Hiroshi Yoshimura’s Green, supremely delicate ambient sketch

Holden’s Ce Que Je Suis, melancholy francophone indie ballad

Huerco S’ A Sea Of Love, weightless electronic dreamscape

Iko’s Digital Delight, minimal wave from early 80s Canada

I Tpame I Tvrame’s There’s No Place To Call Home, hypnotic Albanian minimal synth

I’ve Lost’s ... And I Saw Her Again, Then She Was Gone, minimal ambient guitar drone

Jeff Parker’s Slight Freedom, extraordinary long-form guitar loop/improv/ambient

Jess Garon & The Desperadoes’ The Rain Fell Down, classic bittersweet indie jangle

Jim’s Twenty-One’s Throwaway Friend, exhilaratingly ramshackle indie

Jóhann Jóhannsson’s The Cause Of Labour Is The Hope Of The World, socialist-inspired modern classical soundtrack

John Cage’s In A Landscape, solo piano elegance

John Maus’ The Combine, characteristically doomy synthpop

July Skies’ See Britain By Train (Pevsner version), sepia-tinged ambient post-rock

Justin Hopper & Scanner’s Low-Tide Crow, under-stated poetry/ambient collaboration

Kero Kero Bonito’s Trampoline (St Etienne remix), infectious dubby reworking of the London-based J-poppers

Kinder Meccano’s Atomic Energy Lab, playful arcade game-inspired experimentalism

Kirill Nikolai’s Dolly Dances, patterns of modern classical piano and strings

Kraftwerk’s Autobahn, extraordinary live performance on US TV in 1975

Letting Up Despite Great Faults’ Pageantry, driving oomph-laden electro indie

Liquid Liquid’s Cavern, much-sampled infectious post-punk rap

Look Blue Go Purple’s Cactus Cat, frantically-strummed love letter to a feline friend

Lubomyr Melnik’s Butterfly (live in Copenhagen), constantly ebbing and flowing modern classical

Luke Howard's Digits, captivating blend of bleep and piano

xMachinone’s 火の雨, electronic chimes as gentle lullaby

Maraudeur’s Value The Death, gloomy minimal post-punk

Mark Fry’s Aeroplanes, elegant folk ballad

Mechanical Cabaret’s 304 Holloway Road, synthpop commemoration of Joe Meek

Memory Drawings’ The Nearest Exit, creaking, creepy ambient folk

Mica Levi’s Love, synth strings drone from the soundtrack to Under The Skin

Middex’s Low Life, experimental minimalist noisepop

Milkmustache’s Submarine, dreamily aquatic janglepop, complete with memorable video

Mitra Mitra’s Indecisive Split Decision, minimal synthpop from Vienna

Morten Lauridsen’s O Magnum Mysterium, towering performance of the modern choral classic by the Los Angeles Master Chorale

Nonconnah’s I Hope Every Week Changes My Life (demo), uncharacteristically light ambient guitar drone from ex-Lost Trailers

Norihito Suda’s Light Snowfall, beautifully judged drifting ambient

Ø’s Twin Bleebs, ultra-minimal techno experimentation

Olivia Chaney’s Eternity, sensational acapella recording of Rimbaud’s poem put to music by Emily Hall

Ourselves The Elves’ Wounds, restrained, slow-paced indie jangle

Pale Spectres’ D[r]iving, infectiously uptempo janglepop

Parliamo’s Lucy, youthfully exuberant Scottish jangle

Percussions’ Digital Arpeggios, hypnotic long-form technopop

Peter Maxwell Davies’ Farewell To Stromness, modern classical hymn to Orkney

Plinth’s Solicitude, chiming ambient electronics and piano

Polypores’ Deep Undergrowth, darkly pastoral drone

Pye Corner Audio’s Black Mist (long version), characteristically hauntological electronic pop

Relmic Statute’s Just A Thought, lo-fi electro-acoustic loops

Rhythmus 23′s Guerra Fría, Cold War-inspired minimal wave from Mexico

Robert Fripp’s Night 1: Urban Landscape, eerie ambient loops constructed with a Roland guitar synth

Rodney Cromwell’s Barry Was An Arms Dealer, bleakly infectious 80s-inspired synthpop

Roedelius’ Le Jardin, late 70s Berlin pastoralism

Ross Baker’s A Time After Computers (remixed by Cubus), experimental folktronic mix

Ruhe's Heritage, blissful long-form pastoralism

San Charbel’s Nacer Morir, laidback, homemade dreampop from Mexico

Sara Goes Pop’s Sexy Terrorist, bonkers 1980s agitpop

Sawako & Hayato Aoki’s The End Then Start Again mini-album, whispered field recordings and electroacoustics

Seazoo’s Shoreline, urgent indiepop with a big grin

Secret Meadow’s Endlings, Smiths-a-like pop from Indonesia

Skylon’s Skylon, heartfelt hymn to the Festival Of Britain

Sound Meccano & Jura Laiva’s Salty Wind And Inner Fire Part 1, spacious, airy electroacousticism

Spaceship’s The Imagined View, As Yet Unblighted, field recordings and drone from rural Kent

Spirit Fest’s Hitori Matsuri, charming bilingual down-tempo folk-pop

St James Infirmary’s Terry Marriagehead, under-the-radar 1990 janglepop gem

Stealing Sheep’s Apparition (Pye Corner Audio remix), squelchily hypnotic electro reworking

Susumu Yokota’s Tobiume, drifting beauty from the late Japanese electronica king

Swoop And Cross’ 10439, epically restrained modern classical

Sylvain Chauveau’s Find What You Love And Let It Kill You, melodic ambient dronepop

Tangerine Dream’s Live At Coventry Cathedral, remarkable 1975 footage of the electro-hippies in action

Taylor Deupree’s Fenne, drifting, take-a-bath electro-acousticism

The Bats’ No Trace, more janglepop from the kings (and queen) of Kiwi indie

The BV’s Neon, lofi guitar overload dreampop

The Creation Factory’s Let Me Go, infectious garage rock, stuffed to the gills with 60s stylings

The Donkeys’ Four Letters, unapologetic new wave powerpop from 1979

The Foreign Resort’s Skyline/Decay, Cure-esque dreampop from Copenhagen

The Harvest Ministers’ You Do My World The World Of Good, long-lost video for lovelorn treat

The Hum Hums’ London, pleasingly brief, polished-but-trashy powerpop

The Inventors Of Aircraft’s No Returns, slowly looping ambient

The Leaf Library’s On An Ocean Of Greatness, meandering ambient pop, stuffed full of ideas

The Luxembourg Signal’s Blue Field, big open-hearted indie jangle

The Mascots’ Words Enough To Tell You, Swedish Merseybeat from the heart of 1965

The Mells’ McCallister, blistering-with-a-touch-of-gloss dreampop

The Memory Band’s Norfolk Before Dawn, spellbinding country field recording

The Names’ Life By The Sea, epic Belgian new wave

The Royal Landscaping Society’s Goodbye, beautifully constructed janglepop from Seville

The Starfires’ I Never Loved Her, er-yes-you-did-really 1960s garage rock

The Wake’s Firestone Tyres, sprightly post-post-punk from Glasgow legends

Thomas Dolby's Oceanea, he's-still-got-it ballad from steampunk pioneer

Tobias Hellkvist’s Kaskelot (Segue remix), ethereal beats ‘n’ drones

Tomorrow Syndicate’s Okulomotor, kosmische pop musik from the heart of Mitteleuropa: Glasgow

Unhappybirthday’s Kraken, drum machine-driven indie from Germany

Un Verano En Portugal’s Hielo, frantic, blurred dreampop

Vacant Stares’ Ennui, perfectly-titled doomy gloomy dreampop

Vanessa Rossetto’s Whole Stories album, field recordings and musique concrète from the city streets

Vansire’s Driftless, echoing, distant dreampop

Werner Karloff’s Views Of Movement, thrilling minimal wave from Mexico City

When The Clouds’ The Dawn & The Embrace, managing to stand out even in the crowded category of Italian instrumental post-rock

********

The playlist for 2016 is here. The playlist for 2015 is here. The playlist for 2014 is here. The playlist for 2013 is here.

#ambient #indie #indiepop #guitar #electronic #acoustic #playlist #drone #electroacoustic #synth #synthpop #electropop #minimal wave #janglepop

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