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365hops · 2 years

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365Hops Bangalore-Tourism Guide Page For All The Travel Enthusiasts

1) KODACHADRI TREK

Trekking is one among the most popular activity done by adventure seekers and travellers all around the world. One such famous trekking spot in India is the Kodachadri trekking destinations in South India which is hailed for it's varied landscape and mesmerizing natural beauty. The name for this place is derived from the words Kodacha and Adri. It's literal translation is “Home of the hill of Jasmine flowers”. The peak of the place is very high as it rises up to a height of 1,343 meters above the sea level. Being home to precious natural diversity, it has been declared as a Natural Heritage Site. This trek offers an amazing view of the rising sun such that it rises from beyond the hills which then spreads it's beauty across the vast spread of the Arabian Sea. The effort that the trekkers put in to climb to the top of the peak is of no waste as the sight is mesmerizing.

The kodachadri trek is full of fun and adventure as it provides a completely satisfying and fulfilling experience to the travellers. Some of the most eye-catching sights here are dense green forests, rolling meadows, crossing high waterfalls and sheer drops of the cliffs. This trekking trail is relatively easy when it's done in the daytime. But undertaking weekend night trekking here requires a brave courageous stand from the participants. The kodachadri trekking details are the following. The day starts with the vibe dawning on the peak. There's the panoramic view of the surroundings and the blissful sight of the Arabian Sea and Sharavati backwaters. This purges the trekkers from the pain and tiredness that they get after the activity. In addition to this the peak gets surrounded by clouds and cool breeze. This makes the trekkers feel like floating in the sky like a free bird. Also the view of the lush green spread of nature extending right up to the horizon below gives a cooling sensation to the eyes. A short itinerary of the place follows like this. On day one the pick up starts from Bangalore. In the next day they reach the homestay at early morning and can reach the trek at 9:30 AM after having breakfast. By evening they can reach back and start the campfire. In the next day they can checkout from homestay at 9:00 AM and depart to Banglore. Also they can visit Nagara Fort on the way back and can reach back at exactly 10:00 PM.

2) TADIANDAMOL TREKKING

One among the most sought after trekking sport In South India is Tadiandamol trekking in which the peak rises up to a height of 1748 meter above the sea level. In local language, the name Tadiandamol means a large mountain and also it's peak height above the sea level completely justifies this name. From Bangalore the place is situated at a distance of nearly 280 kms. It's said that this the picturesque Tadiandamol Trek in Coorg takes the participants to the top of the 5th largest peak in Karnataka. In reality this trail is is not that famous amongst adventure enthusiasts. Through each varied landscapes the trek trail passes which is yet another mystic chapter of nature for the trekkers. Some of it's most attractive sights are dense wooded slopes, rising and falling terrains and mist covered valleys. These all have a mysterious vibe which attracts the trekkers and then infuses them with an inherent love for the surroundings.

The place is surrounded with the deep lush greenery of the Shola forests and also the unique fauna and flora of the Western Ghats. These two together make the trip even more exciting and and fun filled. Some rare species of birds and flowers can also be spotted who make their home in this region. In 2 days and 2 nights the trekking can be easily completed. There's also the unique opportunity to enjoy rappelling. This package also includes the exciting Chelavara Falls trek in which there's the exciting activity of waterfall rappelling. What adds more adventure and thrill is the experience of camping in the wilderness which is a real adventure. The best time to visit the Coorg tadiandamol trek and rafting are the months coming after monsoon. During these periods Tadiandamol comes alive with a splash of color and beauty like most other tropical destinations. Due to this the season comes as the best time for undertaking trekking here. The trekkers can visualise and enjoy the amazing natural beauty in it's full bloom. The busiest months of conducting treks are the months between October and February.

3) MULLAYANGARI TREK

In South India there are a plenty of trekking places provided the travellers know about it in detail. One such popular trekking adventure is the Mullayangari trek done in the district of Karnataka. In Karnataka the highest peak is Mullayangari which is about 1,930 m. The main attraction is that this hill offers unprecedented views of all it's neighbouring ranges as it stands majestically above the rest of the popular Western Ghats. With every step one takes, the view gets more and more breath-taking. Unlike other treks this one is not that difficult. With a few steep ascents, serpentine forest trails, cool breeze and the sound of birds chirping, the trek is a beautiful one to explore. On reaching the peak, one will be awe-struck by the amount of bliss that the nature here can provide. For all the tired souls the trek will be a true reprieve. All those who come here must book a Mullayangari trek guide for the journeys as the trials are a bit lengthy and tough.

4) NISHANI MOTTE TREK

In the Western Ghats there lies a not so popular mountain ranges know as Nishani in the Coorg region. From Bhagamandala the mountain ranges starts which is in South Coorg and passes through talacauvery region and ends at the northern side of Coorg. This Nishani Motte trek is approximately 15 km in distance. It starts from the bhagamandala forest range and then the treading leads through the paddy fields. From there it turns to the coffee estate and the into the Wildlife Reserve. After this it finally reaches the mountain peak. With the nature's euphoric appeal this trek is sure to enrich and enlighten one. Adding extra relief in this journey is the soothing cool climate of Madekeri in Coorg. In this expedition there's also the facility of taking trekking in coorg.

There' a package available which includes Transportation (from/to Bangalore), Lunch and Dinner on Day 1, Accomodation, Trek, Rafting, Campfire, Homestay, Breakfast on the first two days. The packages excludes anything not mentioned in the inclusion list. Also Personal expenses of any kind are also not included. There're two plans available. In Plan 1 it costs Rs 3300 per person (Trekking without Rafting). In Plan 2 it's Rs 4250 per person (Trekking With Rafting).

5) KUDREMUKH TREK

Kudremukh trek in Chikmagalur is one of the popularly sought after adventure activity in South India. Enhancing the charismatic appeal of the place is the majestic view of lush green meadows. Being the third highest peak in Karnataka, the place offers plenty of challenges to the trekkers to quench their thirst for adventure. What make this destination the heaven of South India is it's immense natural beauty and the presence of unique flora and fauna. There's a variety of landscapes present in this trial of Kudremukh. There's dense forest in the Kudremukh National park, gloriously flowing streams and also vast meadows surrounding the place. This all makes the participants enjoy the best treasures of nature during the expedition which consists of 2 days and 1 night. The environment of the region is calm and serene which has a soothing effect on the mind and soul of the trekkers. Because of this they don't get bored and feels naturally happy and energetic along with the trails.

The top of the Kudremukh peak provides a breathtaking view of the surroundings. The trekkers coming here get the feeling of floating amidst the clouds like a bird. At the same time they enjoy a bird’s eye view of the magnificent spread of nature extending up to the horizon. The most apt time to come for this Kudremukh trek is during the post monsoon season. This is when the surroundings have a fresh appeal and aura just after the rains. Some of the most important things to do before coming here is to to take permission from the forest department. Participants must avoid indulging in frightening or killing animals or even destroying the forest in any manner. These all are punishable crimes. It is extremely important for the trekking groups to stay together at all times as the trail passes through a dense forest area. A short break is a must take in case of getting exhausted. Rather than sitting back or relaxing alone, this works best.

6) GOKARANA BEACH TREK

Beaches are one among the favorite spots for people around the world. The clam breeze and aura provided by the ocean can't be compared to any other activity. Gokarna beach trek is one among the most sought after beach activity in South India. The place is around 520 kms from Bangalore. It is believed that this place is the spot from where Lord Shiva emerged from a cow’s ear. And hence the name Gokarna got derived from this (Mother Earth). The area consists of four main beaches. The starting point of this Gokarana beach is the Om Kudle beach. This is because it is around 1 km from one end to the other. The beach is vast and spacious for all types of fun activities. The dusk view at Gokarna beach is something not to be missed. There appears orange light on the waves at this time which is such a mesmerizing sight. It adds to the colour of life.

After this one can go to Om beach which is technically in the shape of “Om”. There's a medium size cliff climbing named Shiva Climb situated on the right hand side of the beach. No other beach in this world can give this type of spiritual uniqueness. The next one is the Half Moon beach which gives the feel and thrill of trekking. Here there's a huge rock called the rock of peace from where one can view the soothing dolphins on the Arabian coast line. In order to reach the Half Moon Meach there's another route which is peaceful and serene. It's a coastal line with hundreds of palm and coconut trees.

The last one is the Paradise Beach which is silent and calm. The place is filled with palm trees and rocks such that one can do rock climbing. Some wild paintings are portrayed on the rock which gives it an antique feel. It's also the best place to take pictures. A Candle light dinner facility is available and there's also music near the beach. October to February is the best time to go. A pair of jackets, shorts and cargos must be brought in order to climb the mountains. A pair of sport shoes and medical kit is also necessary. Trips in the monsoon season is not favourable as the sand gets slippery and watery. So one can generalise Gokarana beach as a combination spot for spirituality as well as enjoyment.

#kodachadritrek #TadiandamolTrekking #MullayanagiriTrek #nishanimottetrek #kudremukhtrek

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sineala · 3 years

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Tony Stark and Arthuriana

Coming to you by special request, a very long post about 616 Tony's interest in Arthuriana, with a focus on all of Tony's run-ins with Morgan le Fay!

I feel like I should disclaim the extent of my knowledge here, which is that I still haven't managed to read anywhere near every issue of Iron Man -- at least, not yet, anyway -- so I'm just going by the things I know I've read, and Morgan le Fay's Marvel wiki entry is frustratingly under-cited, so it's very possible I've missed something relevant, but I'm pretty sure I've got the big stuff down. My other disclaimer here is that I'm not as big an Arthurian nerd as Tony is, which is to say that most of my familiarity comes from modern retellings -- T. H. White's The Once and Future King, Marion Zimmer Bradley's The Mists of Avalon, Mary Stewart's The Crystal Cave, Rosemary Sutcliff's Sword at Sunset -- and not so much the usual classic sources on the Matter of Britain, though I've read bits and pieces of them.

(This is because I wanted to read versions of them that were as close to the original as possible but so far have not ended up finishing any of them because, well, that's hard. So I've never read the Mabinogion because I do not know Welsh. I've got the Norton Critical Edition of Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur, which is probably the best student edition if you're looking for something without modernized spellings, as I was. I've also got -- well, okay, it's my wife's but I'm borrowing it -- a relatively recent Boydell & Brewer edition (ed. Reeve, tr. Wright) of Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia Regum Britanniae (History of the Kings of Britain), which is, you guessed it, in Latin with a facing English translation. I haven't gotten very far in it because, in case you didn't know this about Latin texts, the beginning is pretty much always the hardest, so I gave up and read some Plautus adaptations instead. Anyway, if for some reason you too want to read Geoffrey of Monmouth in the original Latin I'd recommend that one, but I can't recommend any particular English translations because I've never read one by itself. I bet you didn't think you'd be getting Latin prose recommendations in this post. I mean, maybe you did; it is me, after all.)

Okay. Right. King Arthur. Here we go.

We've got:

Flashbacks to Tony's childhood in late Iron Man volume 1

A brief discussion of Morgan's origin story and Avengers #187

Iron Man vol 1 #149-150: Doomquest

What If vol 1 #33: What if Iron Man was trapped in the time of King Arthur?

Iron Man vol 1 #249-250: Recurring Knightmare

Iron Man: Legacy of Doom #1-4

Avengers vol 3 #1-4: The Morgan Conquest

Civil War: The Confession

Mighty Avengers vol 1 #9-11: Time Is On No One's Side

In terms of universe-internal chronology, we know from Iron Man #287, from 1992, that Tony has been a fan of King Arthur since childhood. This is an issue of a fandom-favorite arc which features Tony having a lot of childhood flashbacks, including the famous "Stark men are made of iron" line (in #286) that for some reason MCU fandom decided it loved; I mean, seriously, I've seen that quoted in way more MCU fic than 616 fic. But slightly later, in #287, we get an entire page devoted to Tony's love of King Arthur.

The narration reads: "Over the next few years, I learned as my father intended. Discipline of body. Strength of character. But in what free time I was allowed, I worked my way through the school's library. At thirteen, I discovered Mallory [sic], who showed me a whole new world. A world of dedication to a cause greater than oneself. Of chivalry and honor. And the fantastic deeds -- of armored heroes."

The art shows Tony as a child sitting under a tree, reading a book labeled Mort D'Arthur by Mallory [sic] -- no, don't ask me why nobody at Marvel checked how to spell either the name of the book or its author -- and daydreaming of King Arthur, the Sword in the Stone, knights, et cetera. Just in case you somehow missed the extremely blatant hint that we are meant to understand that Tony's knight obsession heavily influenced him becoming Iron Man as an adult, we see one of his armors mixed in with all the drawings of knights. So, yes, canonically Tony is Iron Man at least partly because he's a giant King Arthur nerd, which I think is so very sweet. I love him. He's such a dork!

(This issue is currently in print in the Iron Man Epic Collection War Machine, should you need your own copy.)

This isn't actually the only reference to Tony as a King Arthur fanboy in this era of canon, either; a little later, in IM #298, we see that one of Tony's passwords is actually "Mallory." (Yeah, no, they still couldn't spell. But it's cute.)

But in terms of actual publication order, this is definitely not the first time we have seen in canon that Tony is into Arthuriana, as I'm sure you all know. I would assume, in fact, that giving Tony a childhood interest in Arthuriana is because Doomquest is one of the most beloved Iron Man story arcs of all time, and that all started at least a decade before IM #287 here was published.

The villain of Doomquest -- the one who isn't Doctor Doom, at least -- is Morgan le Fay. Yes, that Morgan le Fay. Yes, Arthur's evil half-sister Morgan le Fay. Yes, all of this King Arthur stuff is canonically real history on Earth-616. Morgan's first appearance in Marvel, per the wiki, was in Black Knight #1 (1955), which I have not read, and judging by the summary I feel like this is probably just supposed to be a straight-up comic retelling of Arthurian legends for kids; I don't think Marvel really had the whole Marvel Universe in mind as a concept in 1955, so I'm not sure this was meant to connect to anything else. I feel like this is another one of those instances of Marvel discovering that they can write comics about characters in the public domain for free -- like, I'm pretty sure that's how we also ended up with, like, Norse, Greek, and Roman mythology wedged into 616.

As far as I can tell from the wiki, the first time Morgan tangled with the Avengers (or indeed the larger 616 universe) in any way actually predated Doomquest -- it was in an early arc in Spider-Woman (#2-6) and then Avengers #187, which came out in 1979, actually right when Demon in a Bottle was happening over in Iron Man comics. If you read #187, Iron Man is not in it because he's off the team due to his drinking problem and also his accidentally murdering the Carnelian ambassador problem. So Wonder Man's filling in instead. This issue is part of Michelinie's rather sporadic Avengers run, which makes sense, I guess, considering where we see Morgan next.

Anyway, Avengers #187 is the classic issue where Wanda is possessed by Chthon, but what you may not remember from Chthon's backstory (I sure didn't!) is that he was summoned by Morgan le Fay because she was the first person who tried to wield the Darkhold to summon him. As you can imagine, this did not work out especially well for her and her followers and they had to seal Chthon away in Wundagore Mountain, which was where Wanda found him. (The Spider-Woman stuff is only slightly earlier and also appears to be about Morgan and the Darkhold; the Darkhold is not one of the areas of 616 canon I am especially conversant with, alas. It's on my to-read list.)

Doomquest, as you probably know, was a classic Iron Man two-parter in Layton & Michelinie's first Iron Man run that set up Tony and Doom as rivals; Doomquest itself was IM #149-150, in 1981, and then in their second IM run they came back and did a sequel in 1989, Recurring Knightmare (IM #249-250), and then the much later four-part sequel to that was the 2008 miniseries Iron Man: Legacy of Doom, which was also by Layton & Michelinie but generally does not seem to be as popular as the first two parts. They've all been reprinted, if you're looking for copies; I have a Doomquest hardcover that collects the first four issues and then a separate Legacy of Doom hardcover. Currently in the Iron Man Epic Collection line there's a volume called Doom, which confusingly only collects the 249-250 part of the storyline (as well as surrounding issues), because for some reason the first Layton & Michelinie run isn't in Epics yet but the second one is. So the beginning of Doomquest isn't currently in print, as far as I can tell. I'm sure you can find it anyway.

So what's Doomquest about? Okay, so you remember how Doctor Doom's mother's soul is stuck in hell for all eternity? Well, Doom's obviously interested in getting her back, and the strategy he has embarked on is to try to team up with other powerful magicians who can help him out, and he thinks Morgan le Fay would be a good choice, for, uh, his quest. Doom's quest. A Doomquest, if you will. (If you've ever read Doctor Strange & Doctor Doom: Triumph & Torment, you're familiar with the part where he later ends up waylaying Strange for this and they go to hell together. And if you haven't read Triumph & Torment, you really should, because it's amazing.)

So Doom is off to his time machine to go team up with Morgan le Fay and Tony thinks Doom is up to something -- Doom has been stealing components for his time machine from a lot of people, including Tony -- and he follows him and it turns out one of Doom's lackeys has a grudge and wants to trap Doom in the past forever, and Tony gets caught up in it. Now they're both in Camelot. Surprise! #149 is actually all setup; they don't get to Camelot until #150.

IM #150 begins with Doom and Tony thrown back into the past; there's a fandom-famous splash page of them locked in combat, only to realize that they have found themselves in Camelot.

They are then discovered by knights; Doom would very much like to attack them, but Tony, who naturally would be happy to LARP Camelot forever, persuades him to play nice. Also Doom thinks Iron Man is only Tony's bodyguard so he keeps referring to him as "lackey," much to Tony's annoyance. Somehow everyone thinks they're sorcerers. Can't imagine why. The knights take them to meet King Arthur himself, and Tony has clearly had his introduction all ready to go, as he introduces himself in a timeline-appropriate manner, says he's here to apprehend Doom, and demonstrates his "magic" by levitating Arthur's throne. Doom's response is essentially "I'm the king of Latveria," which is, y'know, also valid. So they're guests at Camelot for the night while Arthur figures out what to do with them.

We then have a page devoted to Tony alone in his room, musing sadly about how alien he feels, how he doesn't know if he'll ever get home, how he could never fit in here without his beloved technology. Then a Sexy Lady shows up to keep him company for the night, and he decides maybe it's not all bad. Thanks, Marvel. I guess they can't all be winners.

Doom is using his evening much more productively; he compels one of the servants to tell him where Morgan's castle is, because he's still interested in having that team-up. Then he jets off. Literally. He has a jetpack.

The next morning Arthur's like "one of you is still here and one of you has punched a hole through the castle wall and flown off to join Morgan so I guess I know which of you is more trustworthy." He then explains to Tony who Morgan is, because Tony professes ignorance, because clearly we had not yet retconned in Tony's love of Arthuriana. Tony offers to go fight Doom and Morgan with Arthur; meanwhile, Morgan and Doom have teamed up and Morgan has offered to help get Doom's mother out of hell if he commands her undead armies against Arthur because for Reasons she can't command them herself anymore. So that's a thing that happens.

So, yes, it's Tony and Arthur versus Doom and Morgan. Fight fight fight!

Tony tries Doom first but then decides to hunt Morgan down, and in the ensuing fight we get what I think is Tony's first ever "I hate magic," a complaint that we all know he still makes even to this day.

Anyway, Tony freezes a dragon with Freon (mmm, technology) and Morgan gets upset and disappears, so the battle comes to an end, and of course Doom is extremely mad at Tony because he blames Tony for Morgan not sticking around to save Doom's mom, because I guess Doom trusted her to keep her word? Weird. (Like I said, for the next chapter of Doom saving his mother, go read Triumph & Torment.)

Doom says if he and Tony work together, the components in both of their armors can send them both home. So Tony has to trust Doom. Which he does, because he really has no other choice. They build a time machine and Tony makes Doom agree to a 24-hour truce when they get back, so they can both get home. So it all works out okay, and they end up in the present, and Doom tells him, ominously, that they will meet again. Okay, then. That concludes the original Doomquest. It's fun! You can see why fandom likes it.

So that's all well and good, but you might have noticed that Tony's ability to get home hinged on Doom actually being trustworthy. And Doom was. But what if Doom hadn't been? What if he'd just stranded Tony in Camelot forever As you may have surmised from the form of that question, that is in fact a question Marvel asked themselves, because, yes, there's a What If about this! What If v1 #33 is "What if Iron Man was trapped in the time of King Arthur?"

The divergence point from canon, as you can probably guess, is the very end of Doomquest. Instead of Doom bringing Tony home, he deceives him and leaves him in Camelot. And since Tony cannibalized a lot of the tech from his armor to make the time machine, he doesn't have a way to go home.

This is not a story where Tony comes up with a way to go home after all. He really doesn't get to go home. But instead of drowning his sorrows in mead -- because, remember, Demon in a Bottle has already happened and Tony is sober now -- he decides he might as well just play the hand he's dealt. So with what's left of his armor, he defeats some enemies that Morgan rounds up to send against Camelot. And for his services, he's knighted. He is now Sir Anthony.

Tony acknowledges that he is both living the dream and would also like very, very much to go home.

He does end up having some fun in Camelot; it's not all miserable. But he obviously doesn't want to be there.

So if you're at all familiar with King Arthur, you know how this goes, right? Arthur fights Mordred and Mordred kills him. And that does happen in this version. Except Tony is right there, and with his dying words, Arthur asks Tony to rule Camelot... and Tony agrees.

So, yes, Tony Stark becomes king of the Britons after Arthur's death and he never goes home again. The end. Man, I love What Ifs.

Heading back to main 616 continuity, there is still more of this arc to go. The original Doomquest was only two issues, yes, but it was popular enough that Layton & Michelinie did a sequel a hundred issues later, in their second run of Iron Man, and that's Iron Man #249-250, Recurring Knightmare. (In the intervening issues were Denny O'Neil's IM run, specifically the second drinking arc (#160-200), and then Layton & Michelinie came back and most famously gave us Armor Wars (#225-232). I would have to say that Armor Wars is definitely the standout fandom-favorite arc of their second IM run; for their first one, I think a lot of people would have a hard time choosing between Doomquest and Demon.) But anyway, yes. Recurring Knightmare.

Recurring Knightmare is... well, the best way I can describe it is "a trip." It is definitely a sequel to Doomquest, and it is also definitely not a sequel you would ever have expected to see for Doomquest.

Much like #149, #249 is pretty much just setup. Fun setup, but the big action is in the next issue. We open with Doom in Latveria, on his throne, pondering which of his servants he should have disintegrated. Anyway, he's just hanging out there when a mysterious object appears. In California, Tony is suited up and entertaining the crowd at a mall opening when the same object also appears! He takes it to his lab. Please note that this is after the Kathy Dare incident, so Tony is still recovering and is walking with a cane. Doom sees on the news that Iron Man has found the same object, which cannot be carbon-dated, and he shows up at Tony's house. He criticizes Tony's taste in art.

Anyway, Doom basically orders Tony to work with him. Tony refuses, and then Doom sends some robots to attempt to steal Tony's version of the object because he thinks if he has them both he will be powerful. Doom manages to steal it, and when he puts the pieces together, both he and Tony disappear.

So where do they go, you might ask? Camelot?

Not exactly. The future! There is a great callback to the Doomquest splash page.

It turns out they are in London in 2093. Merlin brought them there. Tony still hates magic. And in the future, King Arthur is still there, except he is now a child, because he has been reborn. But he does remember Tony from Doomquest, at which point Tony kneels. Doom, of course, is not impressed. He asks why they have been brought to the future.

The answer is that things are going wrong in the future. If you do not personally remember United States politics in the 1980s, I need you to google the words "Strategic Defense Initiative" right now. I'll wait.

Back with me? Okay, so this is a future where Reagan's Star Wars program actually happened the way he wanted it to, and the satellites are still hanging around the Earth in the future and messing everything up, and Arthur and Merlin need Tony and Doom's help to stop them. Doom once again flies away with his jetpack, of course.

Tony is game to help, but he's not in an armor that can stay in space for long. This is when Merlin takes him and Arthur to the mall and Tony manages to get everything to upgrade his armor at Radio Shack. You see what I meant about this issue being weird.

Tony is out in space trying to disarm the SDI platform, which is where he runs into his future descendant, Andros Stark, who is in armor you will probably recognize from Iron Man 2020. He is referred to as "the resurrected spawn of Iron Man 2020" so I assume he's actually directly related to Arno rather than a direct descendant of Tony; Wiki confirms that Arno is his grandfather. This is all from way before Arno was contemporaneous with Tony in canon. Anyway, he's fighting Tony.

Oh, by the way, Future Doom exists. Future Doom would like to rule this future Earth and for some reason Andros would like to help him. Meanwhile, Present Doom finds out from Merlin that he can't leave except by magic and he can't leave without Tony, so he is reluctantly on Tony's side.

They need help from the Lady of the Lake, except the lake has been paved over and is now a parking lot. Merlin makes the lake come back and then of course they get Excalibur. Arthur is a kid, so he can't wield a longsword; Doom assumes he's going to take it because he is basically a king, and he's pretty grumpy when the sword picks Tony. Tony then uses Excalibur to destroy the space lasers, and I bet that is a sentence you never thought you would read. It's pretty cool. Tony concludes that magic has its good points. Tony stops Andros and Doom stops, uh, himself, and the world is saved and they get to go home. Also, Doom finds out Tony is Iron Man, but when Merlin sends them back he conveniently erases their memories, so neither of them remember anything about this and Tony's secret is still safe. And that's the sequel to Doomquest.

And if you think that's weird, wait until you see Legacy of Doom.

Iron Man: Legacy of Doom is a four-issue miniseries from 2008, also by Layton and Michelinie. Even though it's from 2008, it's set during a much more classic time in Iron Man, continuing on from where we left off in this Doomquest saga. We start with a framing story in 2008. Tony, who has Extremis now, is busy scrapping some of his older armors and reviewing his logs when he suddenly remembers that there was a whole thing with Doom that happened that he seems to have forgotten about until right now. So the whole thing is narrated by Tony in flashback.

Tony's in space fixing a satellite when a hologram of Doom shows up and summons him to Latveria. It's not really clear why Doom needs Tony's help in particular here, but Doom tells Tony that he's discovered that Mephisto would like to bring about the end of the world, which Doom finds, and I quote, "presumptive." So Doom has his Time Cube, and with it he takes Tony to hell.

(Yes, I promise this is relevant to Doomquest. There will be some Arthuriana shortly.)

Doom brings Tony to Mephisto, and it turns out it's a setup! Doom trades Tony for an item he wants from Mephisto, leaves, and Tony's going to be trapped in hell forever! Oh no! (I mean, he's not. But it's quite a cliffhanger.)

At the beginning of issue #2, we find out what the Arthurian connection is, which is that we learned that after the events of Doomquest, Morgan had been granted sanctuary by Mephisto in exchange for a shard of Excalibur that she had somehow stolen. Doom still wants Morgan's help with some magic -- he doesn't mention what it is here, but he says he needs someone of Pendragon blood, and that'd be her -- so he traded Tony to Mephisto in exchange for, I'm guessing, Morgan and the Excalibur shard.

I have probably mentioned this elsewhere, but Legacy of Doom #2 is one of my favorite issues of Iron Man ever, solely because of the next scene. We return to Tony in hell. Howard Stark is also in hell, and he is now a demon, and Tony has to fight him. Mephisto brings popcorn and watches. This is the one time in canon when Tony actually confronts his father, and okay, yes, it's a fistfight in hell and Howard is a demon, but that's comics for you. Howard spends several pages insulting Tony -- specifically insulting his masculinity, but that's a whole other essay -- until he finally insults Maria too, and that's when Tony fights back, because his mother taught him to be good. Honestly if you're a Tony fan I'd recommend this issue just for that scene.

Anyway, we go back to the Doom and Morgan plot, and Morgan casts the spell Doom wanted, which was fusing the Excalibur shard with Doom's armor. Then Doom sends her back to Camelot rather than hell, because he's still mad that she never helped him get his mom out of hell like she said she would.

Tony freezes Howard with Freon -- yes, the same trick he pulled on the dragon back in Doomquest -- and tells him, "You're no father of mine." It is immensely satisfying.

(I had been going to mention that I thought it was a shame that neither canon nor fandom seems to have really engaged with this confrontation, and I know canon never believes in narrative closure but fandom sure does -- and then, anyway, it occurred to me that since the framing story of Tony remembering this is set when Tony has Extremis, there's a very good chance that he no longer remembers remembering it. Goddammit, Marvel.)

(If I got to retcon one canon thing about Tony, I think "the entirety of World's Most Wanted" is up there. I mean, okay, a lot of things are up there, but WMW is definitely on the shortlist.)

Okay. Tony has now engineered his way out of hell, and he's back with Doom in Latveria. Doom has Excalibur. Doom would very much like to fight him. While wielding Excalibur. You get the sense that this is going to be bad. Another cliffhanger!

Legacy of Doom #3 opens with Tony destroying Doom's lab to buy time and running away from Doom and Excalibur. I should probably mention that Doom still doesn't know Tony is Iron Man (anymore), so he thinks he is dealing only with Iron Man, Tony Stark's lackey. Meanwhile, some scientists at SI think there's something weird going on with space. Meanwhile meanwhile, Tony is in a forest taking a breather when a mysterious old man walks up to him.

It's Merlin! Surprise! Merlin wants Tony's help to stop Doom from doing whatever he's doing with Excalibur. The sword makes you invincible and the scabbard makes you invulnerable, so Merlin sends Tony to Scotland on a fetch quest for the scabbard. Doom has now magically sent the sword in search of the scabbard, so the sword flies away to meet it and Doom follows. Turns out the thing that's wrong with space is a thing that's going to hit Earth at the exact place Tony and Doom are. What a coincidence! So Tony and Doom get trapped in a stone circle and fight some stone warriors and then Tony ends up with the scabbard. And by "ends up with," I mean it fuses to his armor. Next issue!

Legacy of Doom #4 is when things really, really get weird. A giant demon made of eyes (???) appears, and this demon is apparently what Doom had been preparing to fight (because it's mad that Doom stole one of its spellbooks), and now he can't, because the sword and the scabbard aren't together. Thanks, Shellhead.

That's when Merlin shows up and says all is not lost. They can defeat the demon... if they put the sword into the scabbard.

"But I'm the scabbard now!" Tony says, uncomprehending.

"Yes," Merlin says. "You are."

Then Tony gets it.

So, yes, Doom has to, um, penetrate Tony. With Excalibur. I love comics. I love comics so much.

So that's a thing that happens.

And then Tony flies off and, I guess, resolves to never, ever think about any of this again.

We head back to the framing story, in which Tony, now having remembered all of this, flies to Britain, buys the land the lake is on, and paves it over, presumably so it will be there for Merlin to bring back in Iron Man #250. The end.

Whew.

Okay, yeah, I know I didn't have to summarize the whole thing, but Legacy of Doom here really is one of my favorite Iron Man miniseries. And I just want to share the love. Please read it. It's great.

But the Arthuriana fun doesn't end there! In fact, now we get an Arthurian-themed arc that actually isn't in Iron Man comics. It's in Avengers! Iron Man is involved, though.

(There is also apparently a Morgan arc in Avengers #240. I actually haven't read it. It seems to be yet another Spider-Woman arc. I get the impression that this isn't really Arthuriana other than having Morgan in it fighting Jess, though, so it doesn't seem quite as relevant. Morgan also apparently has some appearances in FF, Journey into Mystery, and Marvel Team-Up, but those seem like more of just basic villainy. Also, probably not involving Tony.)

Kurt Busiek's 1998 Avengers run, volume 3, is in large part the kind of Avengers run that is a nostalgic love letter to older comics. Heroes are heroes and villains are villains and good triumphs over evil. The Avengers all live in the mansion and are BFFs. I love it. It does assume that you are already a fan of the Avengers, because it starts out by summoning pretty much everyone who has ever been an Avenger and is available to the mansion, and that is... a lot of people. Thirty-nine, by my count. Also, when the entire team is magically whisked away, we are treated to the following narration, as Steve disappears: "And Captain America's last thought, as the world goes white around him, and he with it -- is that Iron Man would hate this."

The narration doesn't tell you why Iron Man would hate this, or how Captain America would know that Iron Man hates this. This is not explained later on. But if you have read comics -- or if you have read the above summary of Doomquest -- you know that Tony is absolutely, one hundred percent, thinking, "I hate magic." And Steve knows it.

The reference is not relevant to the plot; if you don't get it, you'll be fine. But that's what I mean when I say this is a nostalgia run. There are definitely Easter eggs for people who have read a bunch of comics. Busiek does this a whole lot in his work -- there's a reason you can buy an annotated edition of Marvels -- and, yeah, it happens here too. Just know that there will be references you're not getting, if you're new to comics.

Anyway. So Busiek's run actually starts out with an Arthurian arc, #1-4, "The Morgan Conquest." The name is a dead giveaway. Yes, Morgan le Fay is back. Again. For once, Doom is not involved.

The Avengers are all back from their sojourn on Counter-Earth after fighting Onslaught -- don't worry about it -- and mysterious things are happening. There are a lot of monster attacks. So pretty much everyone who has ever been an Avenger is summoned to the mansion, at which point we learn from Thor about some mystical artifacts that are being stolen. (They are the Norn Stones and also the Twilight Sword. That sounds like something from a Zelda game, doesn't it?) The Avengers go to try to stop this, end up in Tintagel, and then they run into Mordred. He wants to capture Wanda, presumably for Magic Reasons. Morgan le Fay casts a spell on all of them, reshaping reality. Yes, all of them. Surprise!

So now all the Avengers are living in a medieval castle and/or town; Morgan is their queen, and thanks to the power of mind-control they are all basically living in Ye Olden Times. The Avengers are all some variety of knight, except for Wanda, who is chained up in the dungeon so Morgan can steal her magic and use it to fuel all this reality-warping.

Wanda calls for help, and that snaps Steve (Yeoman America!) out of the mind control (or altered reality or whatever you want to call it) pretty fast, because Steve's always been very good at resisting mind control, and then Steve promptly goes and snaps Clint out of it, because I guess Steve is also good at inspiring people to snap out of mind control. "Oh, man!" Clint says. "Not another alternate reality! Not again!" (I assume he's referring to Counter-Earth? Maybe?)

So Steve and Clint go around reassembling the Avengers and orienting them as to reality. They get Jan and Monica easily, but then Steve insists on trying to get Tony because, I guess, he likes Tony and would really like to hang around Tony, who is half-naked and asleep in his bedroom, and certainly I am reading nothing whatsoever into this. Clint tells Steve it's not going to work. Tony has historically been fairly susceptible to mind control; it was only pretty recently at this point that he'd been doing Kang's bidding in The Crossing. But the more serious impediment is that this is Tony Stark and he would obviously like to LARP being a knight forever and ever. Tony, therefore, does not believe Steve, and throws him and Clint out of his bedroom and into the barracks.

"Iron Man's a good guy, normally," Clint says. "But he's waaay too into his whole nobleman/lord of the manor trip. That spell musta hit him right where he lives!"

Clint speaks the truth, clearly.

Anyway, they go around and manage to make pretty much every Avenger in the room other than Tony snap out, and attempt to rebel against Morgan while Tony is stil fighting them because he is Still A Knight. There's a lot of punching, because some of the Avengers still aren't free; they weren't ones Steve found.

The day is saved when Wanda manages to channel Wonder Man and break free. This gives the Avengers a fighting chance against Morgan and the Avengers are all lending Wanda their power when Tony finally snaps out of it and is on the side of good.

Then they take Morgan down, go home, and attempt to figure out which of these thirty-nine people should be on the active Avengers team. Hooray.

But that's not the end of Morgan le Fay showing up to screw around with Tony's life! There's more to come! Not much, but there is one that I know of, and at least one more memorable reference.

(I haven't read all her appearances or anything, but one of them definitely involves Tony; I can't swear that he doesn't appear in any of the other books Morgan shows up in, but it'd be a cameo for him, because I only know of one more arc that she's in in a book that Tony stars in.)

In a few more years, we have now entered the part of Marvel Comics history where Brian Michael Bendis writes all the Avengers books at the same time for, like, seven years running. It was sure A Time. There were a lot of word bubbles.

And the thing about Bendis is, Bendis looooooves Doomquest. If you're familiar with the very end of his tenure at Marvel where he made Doom be Iron Man after Tony got knocked into a coma in Civil War II, you have probably figured out already that he likes Doom. But he also likes Doomquest, specifically.

I mean, if nothing else, the giant splash page in The Confession where Maleev redrew the climactic Doomquest fight while Bendis had Tony talk about how deeply meaningful to his understanding of the world this all was -- and how it allowed him to predict Civil War -- was probably a big clue, right?

As far as I am aware, Morgan le Fay makes exactly one more appearance in Tony's life. And that's in Mighty Avengers vol 1 #9-11. Only one of those issues is named, so I'm going to assume the arc is named after it: Time Is On No One's Side.

You remember Mighty Avengers, right? The deal with the Avengers books at the time was that after Bendis exploded the mansion and made the team disband in Avengers Disassembled, the main Avengers book was no longer called just Avengers. Instead, the main Avengers book was New Avengers, and that was the only Avengers book. Then Civil War happened, Steve got killed, and New Avengers became the book about what was left of the SHRA resistance (i.e., Steve's side) after the war. So about halfway through New Avengers, Mighty Avengers starts up, and Mighty Avengers is about an extremely fucked-up and grief-stricken Tony Stark trying to run the official government-sanctioned Avengers team, with Carol's help. This is the comic with the arc where Tony turned into naked girl Ultron. You remember.

So, anyway, there's this Mighty Avengers arc where Doom is Up To Something (there are symbiotes and a satellite involved) and somehow Tony and the Avengers end up in Latveria, punching Doom. Also, by the way, Doom is visiting Morgan in the past because he likes her. The Avengers attacking his castle made him have to come back to the present, so he's kind of cranky. And he fights Tony, and in the course of the fight, his time platform explodes and sends Doom and Tony and also the Sentry to... the past.

This is one of those times where you should definitely look up the comics if possible because the way the past is visually indicated here is that it's colored with halftone dots the way you would expect old comics to be colored, although they have modern shading and color palettes. It's very charmingly retro.

So the three of them are stuck in New York in the past, and naturally they would like to leave. There's one person in this time who has a time machine and it is, of course, Reed Richards. Doom and Tony have a lot of banter in this arc; I think it's entertaining.

Sentry has to be the one to break them all into the Baxter Building because of that power he has where no one will remember him. So they do that, travel forward in time, and end up in Latveria in the present again except Doom is gone and also things are currently exploding where they are.

Doom, of course, has made a side trip to visit Morgan again and he asks her to help him build an army, because I guess this is what their relationship is like. So the rest of the Avengers are captured by what look to me like Mindless Ones and are in a cave in magic bondage, because comics. Jess comments that at least they aren't naked, because she too is remembering that memorable New Avengers trip to the Savage Land. Doom threatens Carol in some creepy sexist ways and eventually it turns out that Tony and the Sentry are fine and everyone kicks Doom's ass. Business as usual.

And the last page of the arc is Morgan alone, wondering where Doom is. So technically Morgan and Tony don't come face to face here, but I think she counts as being at least partially responsible for ruining Tony's day here. And then Secret Invasion happens and Tony has a very, very bad day.

There are a few more Morgan appearances after this, but, as I said, I don't think any of them involve Tony. She shows up in Dark Avengers, apparently, which was one of the post-Civil War Avengers titles I didn't read, and I know that recently, on the X-Men side of things, she's been in Tini Howard's Excalibur one, which I have only read a little of. No Tony there. Just a lot of Morgan and Betsy Braddock and Brian Braddock and the Otherworld.

If you are interested in Morgan's other appearances, you might like this Marvel listicle that is Morgan le Fay's six most malicious acts. I pulled some of the Darkhold backstory from their discussion, but it's not really focused on Morgan and Tony.

So there you have it! That's everything I know about Tony's love for King Arthur and every run-in I know about that he's had with Morgan le Fay! One of two terrible people in Tony's life named Morgan! Actually, I don't think we've seen Morgan Stark in a while. I wonder if he's alive. There should be a Morgan & Morgan team-up. I should probably stop typing and post this.

The tl;dr point is that you should all read Doomquest and its sequels, especially Legacy of Doom. They're great!

#posts i actually wrote

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] Deep Longing Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 心驰之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

More from this collection: Kiro l Victor

[ Released in CN on 24 Dec 2020 ]

The plane is currently flying steadily. I’m entirely focused on the iPad I’m holding, until the end credits of the film gradually appear.

MC: Sigh... I still find it very sweet and warm!

Finally re-watching this Northern European Christmas movie with Gavin, I’m perfectly content, rubbing his arm.

The fragrance of fresh laundry still lingers on the thick woollen sweater, blending with a familiar cool and refreshing scent.

Gavin removes his earpiece, tousling my hair.

Gavin: No wonder you like it that much. The movie is very good.

MC: Of course! It’s precisely because of this movie that I thought of spending Christmas in Northern Europe.

Pure white snow, burning firewood, colourful lights entwining everywhere, decorated Christmas trees, and streets brimming with a joyous atmosphere...

MC: I hope it’s really as interesting as in the movie.

Gavin: It will.

Gavin looks at me and the anticipation written in my eyes, his expression tender as he keeps the iPad.

“Ladies and gentleman, the plane is about to make its landing at the airport...”

We immediately straighten up, pulling the window shade up--

From high above the ground, a silvery white city embellished with a riot of fairytale-like colours enters our line of sight.

The homeland of the legendary Santa Claus is quietly awaiting us.

By the time we complete the check-in process, it’s already dusk, and the streetlights are gradually illuminated.

MC: Is the countdown event in the plaza happening at midnight?

Before coming here, I came across a local Christmas custom. Here, the most famous Christmas event is the countdown in the plaza at midnight on Christmas Eve.

Gavin: Mm, it’s still early.

MC: Why don’t we take a walk along the street first? It’s Christmas Eve, so there’s definitely lots of good fun and interesting things to see!

A hint of a smile appears on Gavin’s lips, as though he’s long since guessed that I’d say this.

Gavin: Looks like it was the right decision to make a booking at this hotel. I did some research beforehand - the liveliest local shopping street is nearby. It shouldn’t be far.

In the midst of our conversation, we’ve already pushed open the doors to the hotel lobby.

The fluttering snowflakes float around like cotton, landing softly on the snow-covered ground and the sharp roof of the lighthouse opposite.

MC: So beautiful...

Gavin and I are standing side by side, our breaths releasing puffs of white mist.

Gavin: The winter here is much colder than in Loveland City. It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen such heavy snow.

Under the eaves, yellow halos from the streetlight fall into Gavin’s amber pupils, revealing an even warmer light.

Sensing my gaze, Gavin turns his head to the side. The light and shadows outline the handsome bridge of Gavin’s straight nose.

He chuckles softly, taking my hand.

Gavin: Let’s go.

Hearing the rustling of the cold breeze at my ear, and the crunching of snow underneath my feet, a wave of excitement suddenly overflows from my heart. I can’t help but break into a jog.

Gavin: You’re that happy?

Tugging on Gavin’s hand, I nod in high spirits.

After turning at a corner, street vendors enter our line of sight from not afar off.

Tiny flickering lights intertwine in the air, hanging in front of the small stalls like waterfalls of flowing light, painting the entire street with a riot of colours.

Joyful songs drift in the night air of the city. In the midst of the bustling crowd, every face is brimming with relaxed and unrestrained smiles.

A movie-like scene unfolds before my eyes, and I feel myself becoming more light-hearted.

As though he can sense my fascination and elation, Gavin tightens his grip, his gaze lingering on my eager expression, his eyes glistening with a warm light.

Gavin: Where do you want to go first?

The fragrance of all sorts of food diffuses in the air. Taking a deep breath, I feel the gluttonous worms in my belly stirring.

Gavin: Shall we try the gingerbread cookies first? I heard the gingerbread cookies here are very famous.

I didn’t expect Gavin’s suggestion to be exactly what I was thinking. A little excited, I nod several times.

MC: We could have gingerbread cookies first, then Christmas cake, then drink the distinctive and warm red wine.... Oh yes, I heard there’s even a medieval merry-go-round that we could ride for free.

I count on my fingers, as though listing down family treasures. Suddenly a low chuckle drifts to my ears.

The moment I turn my head, Gavin’s smiling eyes directly enter my heart, and an unnatural warmth subconsciously blooms on my face.

MC: Don’t laugh at me. We’re already here, so we must definitely experience everything...

Gavin takes a step closer, helping me brush stray hairs messed up by the wind. A smile remains on his lips.

Gavin: You’re right. We must do all of these things. You might have been too busy recently, and it’s been a while since I’ve seen you looking so relaxed. It’s pretty nice.

While he speaks, he takes my hand and places it into the pocket of his coat naturally.

Gavin: The pace of life here is very slow. Today, we can take our time. We’ll complete everything you wish to experience slowly.

The nearest stall happens to be selling gingerbread cookies fresh from the oven. With an enthusiastic greeting from the owner, I purchase a bag of gingerbread cookies.

MC: These gingerbread cookies have been made so delicately...

From the bag, I take out a gingerbread cookie with a snowflake design. Bringing it to my nose, I give it a whiff. Then, I’m filled with anticipation as I take a bite -- It’s fragrant and crispy, and as delicious as expected.

While walking, I hand the bag to Gavin.

MC: Gavin, pick a piece too?

Gavin very quickly takes out a colourful Christmas elf gingerbread cookie.

Gavin: This one. It has a different design, so we can try different flavours.

MC: Sure! I didn’t think you’d actually pick such an adorable design.

Gavin lowers his head to look at the gingerbread cookie elf, then releases an incredibly soft laugh.

Gavin: It could be because... it’s smiling very happily.

Gavin: Just like you.

Although cold wind blows past by cheeks, I seem to feel a warm sensation instead. Beaming with a smile, I bring the snowflake gingerbread cookie to Gavin’s lips.

MC: Here. You said we’d try different flavours, right?

He bends down slightly, giving it a bite straight from my hand. Under the illumination of the streetlights, snowflakes land gently on Gavin’s hair.

Gavin: It has a very special taste, and also has the fragrance of ginger.

While he speaks, I feel the warmth from his lips on my fingertips, enriching the lights and the night scene.

I can’t help but sigh with emotion--

This seems to be the festival ambience I’ve wanted most.

At this moment, the bell from the plaza chimes from far away. I immediately check the time - it’s almost time to take action!

MC: Cough cough...

I clear my throat. Gavin halts in his footsteps, slightly puzzled.

Gavin: What’s wrong?

MC: Mm... it’s like this. We’ve already had good food and seen interesting things. So after this--

I deliberately pause. Looking at the crowded street market, a hint of contemplation flashes across the pair of amber eyes which are close enough to touch.

Gavin: Cough. I’ve prepared a gift for you. But you’ll have to wait for a while longer.

MC: ...eh?

Seeing that Gavin has misunderstood, you can’t help but snort with laughter.

MC: Actually, what I wanted to say was that it’s time for you to receive a surprise!

Gavin’s eyes widen slightly for a second. Then, the corners of his lips bring with them warmth and happiness.

Gavin: Do I need to do anything?

I hurriedly scan my surroundings. The “prop” that I prepared earlier is already nearby. As such, I blink slyly.

MC: All you have to do is turn around and wait for me patiently.

Readily following my instructions, Gavin smiles and turns around.

Just as I take two steps away from Gavin, I whip my head around in unease, plopping myself onto his back and peeping out at him.

MC: I’ll say it first. You must definitely not sneak a peek!

Gavin: Okay.

MC: And you must wait for me to say that you can turn around before you do so.

Gavin doesn’t respond immediately. He suddenly turns his head, reaching out to tousle my head gently as it rests on his shoulder.

Gavin: Don’t worry, take your time. I won’t sneak a peek. I can wait for as long as needed for a surprise. I’ll wait for you.

After confirming that Gavin is standing in place, I jog over to the side of the street. The young person who I’d contacted in advance is already waiting not afar off. Behind him is a small and adorable reindeer sleigh.

It’s the first time I’m seeing a reindeer sleigh, and I excitedly bend down to touch the docile reindeer, greeting it softly.

MC: You've worked hard!

With the assistance of the reindeer’s owner, I take the reindeer sleigh and the present, rushing back in a fluster. Everything is ready--

“Cling cling cling”!

Leaning next to the sleigh, I shake the bell on it, then shout loudly towards the tall and straight figure in front.

MC: Gavin, surprise!

Gavin turns around slowly. When he sees the reindeer, his eyes widen in surprise.

In the next second, an unrestrained smile is on full display. Even his eyes are coated with surprise and a glowing expression.

Satisfied, I use one hand to smoothen the red Santa hat on my head, and use the other hand to support myself lightly on the sleigh.

MC: The reindeer says that Christmas is here, and it has sent me to give you a present!

I retrieve a red coloured scarf from the sleigh, and show it off as though I'm presenting a valuable treasure.

MC: Even though it doesn’t look special at first glance, but...

I point at the picture of a golden coloured ginkgo leaf in a corner.

MC: I personally stitched this on needle by needle!

Gavin takes two steps towards me, petting the reindeer.

The colourful lights happen to fall on Gavin’s face. I can clearly see the happiness gradually glowing in his eyes.

He lowers his head, the warm colour of his eyes full of unbridled light.

Gavin: In that case, could you also personally put it on for me?

Stand on my tiptoes, I wrap the scarf around his neck seriously, and can’t help but admire it.

MC: My taste is pretty good!

I chuckle playfully. Just as I prepare to step backwards, Gavin grabs my hand.

Instinctively tilting my head upwards, what fills my vision is a face brimming with happiness and delight.

Gavin: Thank you. I really like this surprise. Not just because of this scarf.

While Gavin speaks, his fingers lace with mine, entwining them tightly. The coldness of the winter wind seems to melt into warmth because of the closeness of his breath.

Gavin: I think the reindeer brought the wrong message.

He stares fixedly at me, his clear eyes akin to the nicest colours in the snow.

Gavin: What I truly want has only been one thing from beginning to the end. Santa Claus likely heard my heartfelt wish. That’s why he sent the reindeer to bring you to my side.

Heavy snow drifts in the air, and the coloured lights flicker radiantly across the entire street market. But all the radiance can’t compare to Gavin’s smile before me.

Gavin: As for the surprise belonging to you... Look forward to it for a little longer, okay?

No matter whether I employ hard or soft tactics, Gavin refuses to disclose a single thing regarding the gift. He simply smiles and tells me to wait for a while longer.

Time passes by without us realising it, and the night has already set in. Gavin and I begin heading towards the plaza.

Along the way, I realise that quite a number of people are chatting excitedly about a “big screen”.

Although I’m aware that there would be a countdown event later, what’s this “big screen”?

As though seeing through my confusion, Gavin explains.

Gavin: The “big screen” they’re referring to should be the one in the plaza. The reason why the countdown event in the plaza is famous is because of the Christmas tree in the middle. It was originally a tree which was already growing in the plaza. Not only that - the tree is over nine hundred years old.

MC: How do you know about this so clearly?

Gavin: ...cough. I did a little research before we came.

A certain warmth and sense of contentment overflows from my heart. Quietly, I tighten my grip on Gavin’s hand.

MC: Looks like the tree carries the weight of a very ancient history.

Gavin: To the locals, this ancient Christmas tree is akin to the blessings of Santa Claus. Whenever Christmas arrives, people will decorate it diligently, and install a bell switch on its trunk. If you press the switch on the midnight of Christmas Eve, it not only heralds the arrival of Christmas, but also represents that the person who pressed it has received the greatest blessings. This is why everyone wishes to be that lucky person.

MC: ...I’ve got it! In order to be the lucky person... you’d have to be the person selected on the big screen in the plaza, right?

Gavin: That’s right.

MC: There’s only one chance in the entire year. No wonder everyone’s looking forward it.

In the midst of our conversation, we arrive at the plaza which resembles an ocean of joy, and I also witness the unique Christmas tree--

At a glance, one can’t seem to see the tip of the tall and towering Christmas tree. The sparkling and flickering star at the top is reminiscent of a brilliant light from high in the sky.

Vivid and adorable decorations and ribbons are strung in layers, filling the entire tree, giving off an especially warm appearance.

MC: It’s the first time I’m seeing such a tall Christmas tree. It’s so stunning.

Hearing my involuntary gasp of admiration, Gavin’s lips curl slightly.

Gavin: Want to sit for a while at the stall over there?

Perhaps noticing that my cheeks have taken on a reddish hue from the wind, he reaches out to tighten my collar, embracing me gently.

I shake my head repeatedly.

MC: It’s a rare trip. I want to wait for midnight with everyone. There’s also a performance beforehand - it’s so lively.

The crowd gradually grows in size, and the liquid crystal numbers on the big screen start flipping with every second--

In just a few minutes, it’d be midnight.

Happy and expectant faces appear on the big screen, and everybody waves their hands excitedly and exclaims.

Likely influenced by the surrounding atmosphere, a wave of hope rises in my heart. I whisper quietly to Gavin.

MC: Gavin... do you think we’d be that lucky?

Gavin returns my gaze, a slight yet confident smile on his lips.

Gavin: As long as you believe it, we definitely will.

Right after the words leave his lips, the image on the big screen happens to display our side profiles.

My heart is immediately lifted--

The image pauses for a few seconds, then deviates slightly, finally focusing on Gavin and I!

Staring at my somewhat silly and stunned self on the big screen, I can’t believe this at all.

MC: Gavin, we...

Gavin: Mm, it’s us.

The night breeze tangles with the ends of his hair, blowing off some light snowflakes, and making the smile on his face even more evident.

He reaches out, holding me securely.

Gavin: Let’s go.

Amidst their cheering, the crowd automatically parts to both sides, paving a small path. Gavin leads me step-by-step towards the Christmas tree while I’m still feeling slightly giddy.

When I see the ceremoniously decorated Christmas tree before me, I finally return to my senses.

Looking into the eyes which contain a smile and are so close to me, I can’t help but reach out to hug Gavin, my face full of excitement.

Accompanied with a soft chuckle, Gavin encircles me with the scarf. His unique scent burrows into my nose.

I hold onto him, nuzzling myself into his arms. Crinkling my eyes into a smile, I lift my head to look at him.

MC: Gavin, I feel so happy today... It’s like a fairytale which hasn’t been thought of before.

Gavin tightens his grip on me, and light undulates in the amber eyes staring at me.

Gavin: Looks like the mission of letting you experience a different Christmas has been completed pretty well?

MC: Not just “pretty well”! We’re basically extraordinarily lucky today!

Gavin: In that case, I’m a little luckier than you.

MC: Why?

Gavin: Because the lucky you belongs to me.

Gavin lowers his head slightly, his lips bringing with them a gentle smile, his eyes filled with seriousness.

He doesn’t seem to realise just how much the words he said can cause one to turn red in the face.

I open my mouth, wanting to cover the chaotic leaping of my heart. Before the words can come out, I once again feel Gavin’s warm breaths on my forehead.

Gavin: MC, this “biggest blessing” belongs to you. In the year ahead, you’ll have the most blessings. I wish that every day of yours will be happy and blessed. This is my Christmas gift.

My heart surges with emotions. Just as I’m about to say something, I realise something from his words--

Thinking about the surprise gift he mentioned earlier, and the confident tone he used when the big screen was sweeping across, could it be...

My eyes instantly widen.

MC: Gavin, did you...

Before I can finish, the crowd in the plaza begin the countdown, their joyous voices covering my soft exclamation.

Even so, I’ve more or less confirmed the guess in my heart.

Ba dump. Ba dump. It’s as though I can clearly hear the violent yet excited beating of my heart.

Gavin seems to be in a great mood. The corners of his lips arch upwards, and he pulls me towards the switch on the Christmas tree.

The countdown from the crowd happens to be reaching its end -- “Three, two, one!”

A second after our gentle push, a gigantic firework scuttles into the sky and blooms. Light-hearted music starts playing, loud and clear.

Beneath the tree, Gavin and I continue keeping our eyes fixed on each other, concealed by the branches.

Gavin lowers his head, his eyelashes trembling, his clear eyes reflecting my focused yet sparkling eyes.

His fingers glide down my cheek gently, leaving behind a warmth I yearn for.

Gavin: What were you going to say earlier?

I tilt my head, looking at him quietly.

After hearing my wish of spending Christmas in Northern Europe, the person before me had started planning this trip, and had given me such a great blessing...

As compared to being selected by the big screen, the person before me is the blessing that I wish to have most.

I encircle my arms around his neck, shaking my head with a smile.

MC: Gavin, Merry Christmas!

Gavin: Merry Christmas, MC.

Without realising it, I tug on his collar tightly, pressing myself to the side of his face. In an instant, all I sense is my heart being filled to the brim.

I can’t see the crowd in the surroundings, can’t see the mottled lights, nor the drifting snowflakes.

All I can see is this smiling face whose breathing melds with mine.

At this moment of undulating longing, I wish to convey all the brimming and surging emotions to him. I wish for this familiar scent to more completely encase itself around me--

Encircling Gavin tightly, I stand on my tiptoes, gently closing the distance between us...

Phone call: here

Texts: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin #THERE SHOULD BE A LIMIT TO HOW CORNY A DATE CAN BE #IT'S NOT GOOD FOR MY HEART

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city-of-ladies · 4 years

Photo

(Tomoe Gozen, by Tsukioka Yoshitoshi)

Tomoe, Yamabuki and Aoi - Lady samurais

Tomoe Gozen (12th-13th century) is probably the most famous Japanese warrior woman. “Gozen” wasn’t her surname, but a title that could be used for a lady of a distinguished family. Said title isn’t used in the chronicles, but it seems that it had become customary to address Tomoe this way by the 15th century. It was likely attributed to her due to a lineage of female performers specialized in telling Tomoe’s story, who used the title “Gozen” and took the name “Tomoe” to honor her memory.

Though Tomoe’s story probably has a factual basis, separating fact from fiction remains difficult. What’s known comes from oral traditions that began to be conveyed in written form at the end of the 13th century. Different versions thus exist. She was likely born around 1157 and possibly died in 1247, though the latter remains uncertain.

In the most commonly accepted version, Tomoe’s father was a warrior named Nakahara Kaneto and she had two brothers: Imai Kanehira and Higuchi Kanemitsu. Her mother was the wet nurse of Minamoto no Yoshinaka , who was fostered in their family in Kiso Valley. The relationship between Tomoe and Yoshinaka is unclear. Only one version of her story tells that she was his concubine while the others are silent. It’s thus possible for such elements to be romantic embellishments. Since young women from samurai families were taught the fighting arts, this is probably how Tomoe acquired her military skills.

Tomoe showed her bravery during the Genpei war, a civil war who opposed the Minamoto clan to the Taira. An interesting point is that the different sources give a coherent picture of Tomoe’s military career. The most well-known account of her story, the Tale of the Heike, gives the following description of Tomoe:

“Tomoe was especially beautiful, with white skin, long hair, and charming features. She was also a remarkably strong archer, and as a swordswoman she was a warrior worth a thousand, ready to confront a demon or god, mounted or on foot. She handled unbroken horses with superb skill; she rode unscathed down perilous descents. Whenever a battle was imminent, Yoshinaka sent her out as his first captain, equipped with strong armor, an oversized sword, and a mighty bow; and she performed more deeds of valor than any of his other warriors.”

She first fought during the battle of Yokotagawara in 1181 and killed seven enemy cavalrymen. She then led 1,000 men during the battle of Kurikara in 1183, making her one of Yoshinaka’s main commanders. Some tellings of the battle credit her with creating the tactic that made victory possible. She reportedly had torches attached to the horns of bulls while some of her soldiers were beating the drums. The confusion caused the enemy’s horses to panic and it is said that 70,000 Taira soldiers perished that day. Though this number is certainly exaggerated, the victory was certainly a decisive one.

Yoshinaka then took Kyoto, at that time Japan’s capital, in July in 1183 after the Taira had fled the city. He made himself extremely unpopular, executing his opponents, while his troops were raping and plundering. In January 1184, the cloistered emperor Go-Shirakawa asked Minamoto no Yoritomo, Yoshinaka’s cousin, to expel him from the city. Since Yoritomo and Yoshinaka were rivals, Yoritomo accepted.

Yoshinaka thus had to flee. Tomoe followed him as his “first commander” and personal bodyguard. During the battle of Uchide no Hama, Yoshinaka’s 300 cavalrymen faced 6,000 enemy soldiers. Tomoe was one of the few survivors and managed to escape capture. She then fought a last time at Awazu in February 1184. In the Tale of the Heike, Yoshinaka orders her to leave and, humiliated, she confronts and beheads a particularly strong warrior in order to show her might one last time.

All the versions of her story have Yoshinaka tell that he didn’t want to die alongside a woman. Though Tomoe’s warrior pride was wounded, she had no choice, but to obey. She took off her armor and left the battlefield. Yoshinaka died a humiliating death, killed as he tried to flee. What happened to her afterward is the subject of many stories. One says that she was captured and brought in front of Yoritomo. A warrior named Wada Yoshimori fell in love with her and married her to have her spared. She gave birth to a son a became a nun after his death. This is, however, unlikely.

Numerous towns and provinces claim to be the place where Tomoe spent the rest of her life. A study showed the existence of several Buddhist nuns named Tomoe in different locations, but none of them has been proved to be the warrior woman. At tomb attributed to her can be seen in Gichû-ji temple, next to Yoshinaka’s grave. It is said that Tomoe lived in this temple and that her ghost can be seen haunting its courtyard. What is certain, however, is that many tales circulated about Tomoe, certainly conveyed by itinerant performers, which led to this blend of facts and legends.

Last, but not least, Tomoe isn’t the only female warrior mentioned in tellings of the Genpei war. The Tale of the Heike states that Yoshinaka went to war with two women: Tomoe and Yamabuki. Yamabuki had, however, fallen sick and had to be left in Kyoto. No mention is made of Yamabuki in the other main version, the Genpei-seisui-ki, who states that Yoshinaka had another female commander named Aoi and that she died during the battle of Kurikara.

The exact truth can’t be known, but local traditions attached to both Yamabuki and Aoi exist. For instance, it’s possible to visit in Kiso valley the house where Yamabuki reportedly lived while commemorative steles have been erected to Tomoe and Aoi on the site of Kurikara. Those names nonetheless suggest that Tomoe’s story can be seen as part of a bigger picture. Since archeological discoveries may suggest that women were involved in armies on a larger scale than expected, it seems that Tomoe wasn’t perhaps a lone exception.

Tomoe’s story has inspired noh and kabuki plays. A geiko dressed as her appears every year during Kyoto’s festival of the ages.

Bibliography:

Brown Steven T., Theatricalities of power, the cultural politics of noh

Doak Kevin M., “Tomoe Gozen”, in: Pennington Reina (ed.), Amazons to fighter pilots,Biographical dictionary of military women vol.2

McCullough Helen Craig (trad.), The tale of the Heike

Oyler Elizabeth, “The woman warrior Tomoe in medieval and early modern Japanese nō plays”,in: Wade Mara R. (dir.), Gender matters: discourses of violence in early modern literature and the arts

Oyler Elizabeth, “The battle of Tonamiyama in Bangai nō”, in: Oyler Elizabeth, Watson Michael (dir.), Like clouds and mists: Studies and translations of nō plays from the Genpei war

Scott Wilson William, Walking the kiso road, a modern day exploration of old Japan

Watson Michael, “Kurikara Otoshi (The fall from Kurikara): Introduction”, in: Oyler Elizabeth, Watson Michael (dir.), Like clouds and mists: Studies and translations of nō plays from the Genpei war

Tyler Royall, “Tomoe, the woman warrior”, in: Mulhern Chieko Irie (dir.), Heroic with grace: legendary women of Japan

#Tomoe gozen #aoi #yamabuki #onna bugeisha #lady samurai #samurai #genpei war #12th century #japan #Japanese history #history #war #military history #women in history #women's history #warrior women #women in war #badass women

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

Text

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 9

(Y/n)'s POV

It doesn't take me long to pack. I decide to leave the Minotaur horn in the cabin, which leaves me only an extra change of clothes and a toothbrush to stuff in a backpack Grover had found for me.

The camp store loans me one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas. The coins are as big as Girl Scout cookies and have images of various Greek Gods stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other. The ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron had told us, but Olympins never used less than pure gold. Chiron said the coins might come in for non-mortal transactions - whatever that might mean. He gives Annabeth, Percy, and me canteens of nectar and Ziploc bags full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if we were seriously hurt. It is god food, Chiron reminds us. It would cure us of almost any injury, but it is lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn us up, literally, Fun.

Annabeth is bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she tells me had been a twelfth-birthday present from her mom. She is also bringing a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she gets bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve. I'm sure the knife is going to get us busted the first time we go through a metal detector.

Grover is wearing his fake feet and his pants to pass as a human. He wears a green rasta-style cap, because when it rains his curly hair flattened and you can just see the tips of his horns. Grover's bright orange backpack is full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket is a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knows two songs: Mozart's Piano Concerto Number 12 and Hilary Duff's 'So Yesterday,' both of which sound pretty bad on reed pipes.

We wave good-bye to the other campers, take one last look at eh strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hike up the Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine tree that used to be Thalia, the Daughter of Zeus.

Chiron is waiting for us in his wheelchair. Next to him stands the surfer dude I'd seen when I was recovering in the sick room. According to Grover, the guy is the camp's head of security. He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Today, though, he's wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so I can only see the extra eyes on his hands, face, and neck.

"This is Argus," Chiron tells me. "He'll drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things."

I hear footsteps behind us.

Luke comes running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes. "Hey!" he pants. "Glad I caught you."

Annabeth blushes, the way she always does when Luke is around.

"Just wanted to say good luck," Luke tells us. "And I thought . . . um, maybe you could use these."

He hands Percy a pair of sneakers, which look pretty normal.

Then, Luke says, "Maia!"

White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels. The shoes flap around on the ground until the wings fold up and disappear.

"Awesome!" Grover exclaims.

Luke smiles. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days...." His expression turns sad.

Annabeth stomps down the other side of the hill, after arguing with Percy, where a white SUV waits on the shoulder of the road. Argus follows, jingling his car kees.

Percy picks up the flying shoes and then looks up at Chiron. "I won't be able to use these, will I?"

Chiron shakes his head. "Luke meant well, Percy. But taking to the air...that would not be wise for you."

I nod, getting an idea, "Hey, Grover. You want a magic item?"

His eyes light up. "Me?"

Pretty soon, we'd laced the sneakers over his fake feet, and the world's first flying goat boy is ready for launch.

"Maia!" Grover shouts. He gets off the ground, okay, but then falls over sideways so his backpack drags through the grass. The winged shoes keep bucking up and down like tiny broncos.

"Practice," Chiron calls after him. "You just need practice."

"Aaaaa!" Grover goes flying sideways down the hill like a possessed lawnmower, heading towards the can.

But before I can follow, Chiron catches my arm. "I should have trained you two better, Percy, (Y/n)," he says. "If only I had more time. Hercules, Jason - they all got more training."

"That's okay. I just -" I stop myself.

"What am I thinking?" Chiron cries. "I can't let the two of you get away without these." He pulls two pens out of his coat pocket and hands one to me and one to Percy.

Looking down at it, I see a teal-colored gel pen. Maybe cost thirty cents.

"Gee," Percy says. "Thanks."

"Percy, those are gifts from your father. I've been keeping them for years, not knowing you two were the ones I was waiting for. But the prophecy is clear to me now. You two are the ones."

Instinctively I take off the cap, and the pen grows longer and heavier in my hand. In half a second, I am holding a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a teal and silver leather-wrapped grip. This is the first weapon that feels balanced in my hand.

"That sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into," Chiron tells Percy. "Its name is Anaklusmos."

"Riptide," Percy translates.

"I have never seen anyone use that sword that I'm aware of," Chiron says, turning to me. "Yours is named Τυφώνας."

"Hurricane," I translate, surprised that the Ancient Greek came so easily to me.

"Use them only for emergencies," Chiron says, "and only against monsters. No hero should harm mortals unless absolutely necessary, of course, but neither sword would hurt them in any case."

I look down at the wickedly sharp blade. "What do you mean it wouldn't harm mortals? How could it not?"

"Those swords are celestial bronze. Forged by the Cyclopes, tempered in the heart of Mount Etna, cooled in the River Lethe. It's deadly to monsters, to any creature from the Underworld, provided they don't kill you first. But the blades will pass through morals like an illusion. They simply are not important for the blade to kill. And I should warn you two: as demigods, you can be killed by either celestial or normal weapons. You are twice as vulnerable."

"Good to know," Percy says.

"Now recap the pens," Chiron says.

Percy and I touch the pen cap to the sword tips and instantly Riptide and Hurricane shrink to ballpoint pens again. I tuck it in my pocket, a little nervous because it's pretty easy to lose a pen.

"You can't," Chiron says.

"Can't what?" I ask, slightly confused.

"Lose the pens," he says. "They're enchanted. They'll always reappear in your pockets. Try it."

Warily, I throw the pen as far as I can down the hill and watch it disappear in the grass.

"It may take a few moments," Chiron tells us. "Now check your pocket."

Sure enough, the pen is there.

"Okay, that is extremely cool," I admit.

"But what if a mortal sees one of us pulling out a sword?" Percy asks.

Chiron smiles. "Mist is a powerful thing, Percy."

"Mist?" I ask.

"Yes. Read The Iliad. It's full of references to the stuff. Whatever divine or monstrous elements mix with the mortal world, they generate Mist, which obscures the vision of humans. You will see things just as they are, being a half-blood, but humans will interpret things quite differently. Remarkable, really, the lengths to which humans will go fit things into their version of reality.

I put Hurricane back into my pocket.

For the first time, the quest feels real. I'm leaving Half-Blood Hill. I'm heading west with no adult supervision, no backup plan, not even a cell phone - Chiron said cell phones were traceable by monsters; if we used one, it would be no worse than sending up a flare. I have no weapon stronger than a sword to fight off monsters and reach the Land of the Dead.

"Chiron . . ." Percy says. "When you say the gods are immortal . . . I mean, there was a time before them, right?"

"Four ages before them, actually. The Time of the Titans was the Fourth Age, sometimes called the Golden Age, which is definitely a misnomer. This, the time of Western civilization and the rule of Zeus, is the Fifth Age."

"So what was it like...before the gods?"

Chiron purses his lips. "Even I am not old enough to remember that, child, but I know it was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the lord of the Titans, called his reign the Golden Age because men lived innocent and free of all knowledge. But that was mere propaganda. The Titan king cared nothing for your kind except as appetizers or a source of cheap entertainment. It was only in the early reign of Lord Zeus, when Prometheus the good Titan brought fire to mankind, that your species began to progress, and even then Prometheus was branded a radical thinker. Zeus punished him severely, as you may recall. Of course, eventually, the gods warmed to humans, and Western civilization was born."

"But the gods can't die now, right? I mean, as long as Western civilization is alive, they're alive. So...even if I failed, nothing could happen so bad it would mess up everything, right?" I ask, feeling rather uncertain.

Chiron gives me a melancholy smile. "No one knows how long the Age of the West will last, (Y/n). The gods are immortal, yes. But then, so were the Titans. They still exist, locked away in their various prisons, forced to endure endless pain and punishment, reduced in power, but still very much alive. May the Fates forbid that the gods should ever suffer such a doom, or that we should ever return to the darkness and chaos of the past. All we can do, child, is follow our destiny."

"Our destiny...assuming we know what that is," I say grimly.

"Relax," Chiron tells me. "Keep a clear head. And remember, the two of you may be about to prevent the biggest war in human history."

"Relax," I say. "I'm very relaxed."

When Percy and I get to the bottom of the hill, I look back. Under the pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus, Chiron is now standing in full horse-man form, holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer-camp send-off by your typical centaur."

Argus drives us out of the countryside and into western Long Island, It feels weird to be on a highway again, Annabeth and Grover sitting next to me, Percy on the other side of Grover, as if we were normal carpoolers. After two weeks at Half-Blood Hill, the real world seems like a fantasy. I find myself staring at every McDonald's, every kid in the back of his parent's car, every billboard and shopping mall.

"So far so good," Percy tells Annabeth. "Ten miles and not a single monster."

She gives Percy an irritated loo. "It's bad luck to talk that way."

"Remind me again - why do you hate us so much?" Percy asks.

"I don't hate you two."

"Could've fooled me."

Annabeth folds her cap of invisibility. "Look...we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."

"Why?" Percy asks.

Annabeth sighs. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."

"They must really like olives," Percy comments, and I stifle a snort of laughter.

"Oh, forget it," Annabeth grumbles.

"Now, if she invented pizza - that I could understand," I add, in a slightly teasing tone.

"I said, forget it!" Annabeth says, hitting me lightly on the arm.

In the front seat, Argus smiles. He doesn't say anything, but one blue eye on the back of his neck winks at me.

Traffic slows down in Queens. By the time we get into Manhattan, it is sunset and starting to rain.

Argus drops us at the greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, not far from my mom and Gabe's apartment. Taped to a mailbox is a soggy flyer with mine and Percy's picture on it: Have you seen these children?

Percy rips it down before Annabeth and Grover can notice.

Argus unloads our bags, makes sure we get our bus tickets, then drives away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch us as he pulls out of the parking lot.

I think about how close I am to the apartment. On a normal day, Mom would be home from the candy store by now. Smelly Gabe is probably up there right now, playing poker, not even missing her.

Grover shoulders his backpack. He gazes down the street in the direction I am looking. "You want to know why she married him, (Y/n)?"

I stare at him. "Were you reading my mind?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Just your emotions," Grover shrugs. "You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?"

I nod.

"Your mom married Gabe for you and Percy," Grover tells me. "You call him 'Smelly,' but you've got no idea. This guy has this aura . . . Yuck. I can smell him from here. I can smell traces of him o you, and you haven't been near him in a week."

"Thanks," Percy grimaces from Grover's other side. "Where's the nearest shower?"

"You should be grateful, Percy. Your stepfather smells so repulsively human he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside his Camaro, I knew: Gabe has been covering your scent for years. If you hadn't lived with him every summer, you probably would've been found by monsters a long time ago. Your mom stayed with him to protect you. She was a smart lady. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy—if that makes you feel any better."

I soften, looking down a the ground. I'll see her again, I think. She isn't gone.

You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend, the Oracle whispers in my mind. You will fail to save what matters most in the end.

The rain keeps coming down.

We get restless waiting for the bus and decide to play some Hacky Sack with one of Groer's apples. Annabeth was unbelievable at it. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever. Percy wasn't too bad either, but I found that I wasn't that great at it.

The game ends when I toss the apple towards Grover and it gets too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappears - core, stem, and all.

Grover blushes. He tries to apologize, but Annabeth, Percy, and I are too busy cracking up.

Finally, the bus comes.

I am relieved when we finally get on board and find seats together in the back of the bus, Me and Annabeth in one row, and Percy and Grover across from us. The four of us stow our backpacks.

I glance over at Annabeth beside me, who keeps slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh.

As the last passengers get on, Annabeth claps her hand onto my knee. "Look!"

An old lady had just boarded the bus. She is wearing a crumpled velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadows her face and she is carrying a big paisley purse. When she tilts her head up, her black eyes glitter.

I see Percy slump down in his seat.

Behind her comes two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise, they look exactly like Mrs. Dodds - same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dress. Triple demon grandmothers.

They sit in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle cross their legs over the walkway, making an X. It is casual enough, but it sends a clear message: Nobody leaves.

The bus pulls out of the station, and we head through the slick streets of Manhattan.

"She didn't stay dead long," Percy says, his voice quavering a little. "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."

"I said if you're lucky," Annabeth murmurs. "You're obviously not."

"All three of them," Grover whimpers. "Di immortales!"

"It's okay," Annabeth says, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows."

"They don't open," Grover moans.

"A back exit?" she suggests.

There isn't one. Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, we are on Ninth Avenue heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.

"They won't attack us with witnesses around," I say. "Will they?"

"Mortals don't have good eyes," Annabeth reminds me. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."

"They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?" Percy asks.

She thinks about it. "Hard to say. But we can't count on mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof . . . ?"

We hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus goes dark except for the running lights down teh aisle. It is eerily quiet without the sound of the rain.

"I need to use the rest-room."

"So do I."

All three demons start coming down the aisle.

"I've got it," Annabeth says. "Percy, take my hat."

"What?" he says with disbelief.

"You're the one they want. You killed one of them. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away."

"But you guys -"

"There's an outside chance they might not notice us," Annabeth says as she glances over at me. "You're a son of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering."

"I can't just leave you," Percy says, looking desperately at me.

"Go," I say, frowning and Annabeth hands him the cap.

The old ladies are not old ladies anymore. Their faces are still the same - I guessed they couldn't get any uglier - but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws; their handbags had turned into fiery whips.

The Furies surround me, Grover, and Annabeth, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?"

The other people on the bus are screaming, cowering in their seats. They see something, all right.

"He's not here!" Annabeth yells. "He's gone!"

The Furies raise their whips.

Annabeth draws her bronze knife. Grover grabs a tin can from his snack bag and prepares to throw it.

Word Count: 3222 words

#percy jackson x sister reader #percy jackson reader insert #female reader #reader insert #fem reader

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morihaus · 3 years

Text

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

Scribed by Dorceveus Mir

Translated by Yoricka Vaughn

Antiquarian of the Scenarist's Guild

Foreword:

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ii.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

iii.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

iv.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

Postscript:

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

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

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

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

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

#tesfest21 #mori writing #oc: alessians #fair warning: this is in the neighborhood of 8000 words #it's a long historical text with an imperialist and alessian bias glorifying the acts of emperors #a lot of patronizing and villainizing of other cultures and faiths #longest single thing ive ever written

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celiabowens · 4 years

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Book recommendations, Literary Fiction edition(?)

A companion to this post (which should be updated, at some point lol)

Short Story Collections:

Salt Slow by Julia Armfield: grotesque and disquieting collection about women and their experience in society, how they view and perceive their own body and desires. Pretty strong mythic, magical realism, body horror elements in here.

The Man Who Mistook his Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales by Oliver Sacks: fascinating collection in which Sacks reminishes some particularly odd stories of patients who had to cope with bizarre neurological disorders.

Home Remedies by Xuan Juliana Wang: a collection focused on the Chinese millennial experience. Stories about love and loss, family, immigration and the uncertainty of the future. (also there’s an extremely beautiful short story about a pair of Chinese divers that broke me forever!!!)

Bestiary: The Selected Stories by Julio Cortázar: unforgettable selection of short stories that mix surreal elements to everyday life and apparently ordinary events. Would also recommend All Fires the Fire by the same author.

Novels:

How Much of These Hills is Gold by C. Pam Zhang: one of the biggest debuts of 2020, it follows two recently orphaned children through the gold rush era. An adventurous historical fiction piece that focuses on themes like gender, identity and immigration, this is one of my favorites 2020 reads so yeah, I’d really push it in anyone’s hands to be honest.

Burial Rites by Hannah Kent: historical fiction inspired by the last days of a young woman accused of murder in Iceland in the 1820s. A quite bleak, but beautiful novel (the prose is stunning).

The Mercies by Kiran Millwood Hargrave: historical fiction novel set in Norway in the 17th century, following the lives of a group of women in a village that recently (barely) survived a storm that killed all of the island’s men.

The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead: the 2020 winner of the Pulitzer Prize. The book follows the lives of two boys sentenced to a reform school in Jim Crow-era Florida. A bleak, but important book, with a shocking final twist (side note, I’ve been recommended The Underground Railroad by Whitehead as well, but I haven’t gotten to it yet. If you’re looking for something quite peculiar, if a bit less refined when compared to The Nickel Boys, The Intuitionist is a quite odd pulpy noir set in an alternate NY about...elevator inspectors *and racism*).

The Leavers by Lisa Ko: haunting book about identity and immigration as the main character is apparently abandoned by his own mother (an undocumented Chinese immigrant) during his childhood. Mainly a story about living in between places and constantly feeling out of place.

The Memory Police by Yoko Ogawa: when everyone would probably recommend Murakami (not much against Murakami besides his descriptions of women and their boobs), I suggest checking out some of Ogawa’s books. The recently translated The Memory Police, published in Japan in the mid 90s, is an orwellian dystopian novel set on an unnamed Island where memories slowly disappear. Would also really recommend The Housekeeper and The Professor, a really short novel about a housekeeper hired to clean and cook for a math professor who suffered an injury that causes him to remember new things for only 80 minutes.

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong: Ocean Vuong’s debut novel, following a son writing a letter to his illiterate mother. The book seems quite polarising due to Vuong’s writing style (his poetry background is really quite clear and the book doesn’t really follow a regular narrative, rather than portrays events and memories in brief flashes), but I loved it and I’d really just recommend going into it without knowing much? It’s a beautiful exploration of language, family history, trauma, sexuality and more.

Exist West by Mohsin Hamid: this book was fairly popular when it came out (in 2017 I believe) and was often incorrectly marketed as magical realism. Hamid’s book is a brief and quietly brutal journey with a few fantastical elements, following a couple trying to escape their city in the middle of war, as they hear about peculiar doors that can whisk people far away. The doors are, of course, a quite effective metaphor for the immigrant experience and the book does a great job at portraying the main characters’ relationship.

Family Trust by Kathy Wang: this has a really low rating on goodreads which...wow i hate that. Family Trust is a literary family saga/drama about a Chinese-American family residing in the Silicon Valley. It’s often been compared to Crazy Rich Asians, but I believe it to be more on the literary side and definitely less lighthearted.

Pachinko by Min Jin Lee: historical family saga (one of my favorites tbh, I’m absolutely biased, but this book deserved more hype) set in Korea and Japan throughout the 20th century, following four generations of a Korean family. While I wasn’t the biggest fan of the prose, the book has really great characterisation and absolutely fascinating characters. (I’d suggest checking out eventual TW first, in this case).

The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker: another recent read, The Silence of the Girls, while not faultless, is a pretty good retelling of The Iliad, narrated through Briseis’ perspective. The prose can feel a bit too modern at times, but it provides the reader with some really strong quotes and descriptions.

Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng: and also Little Fires Everywhere by the same author, to be honest. If you’re looking for really really good family dramas, with great explorations of rather complex and nuanced relationships? You should just check out her stuff. Vibrant characters, good writing, and some superb portrayal of longing here.

Nutshell by Ian McEwan: i’m starting with this one only to grab your attention (if you’ve even reached this part lol, congrats), but McEwan’s one of my favorite authors and I’d recommend almost everything I’ve read by him? Nutshell, specifically, is a really odd and fun retelling of Hamlet...told from the pov of an unborn baby. But really, I’d also recommend Atonement (of course), The Children Act, Amsterdam? All good stuff.

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles: I’ve read this book this summer and, while I’m still unsatisfied with the ending, I’d thoroughly recommend this? The novel follows Count Alexander Rostov, who, in 1922, is sentenced to a lifetime of house arrest in the Metropol, a luxurious hotel in the center of Moscow. A singular novel, funny and heartbreaking at once, following a vibrant cast of characters as they come and go from Rostov’s secluded life.

Human Acts by Han Kang: from the bestselling author of The Vegetarian (which honestly, I thoroughly despised lol), Human Acts focuses on the South Korean Gwangju uprising. It’s a really odd (and at times grotesque) experimental novel (one chapter is narrated from the pov of one of the bodies if I remember correctly), so one really has to be in the mood for it, but it’s a really unique experience, worth a chance.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon: sort of a really chunky historical adventure novel following two artists in 1940s/1950s NY, who create a superhero and use him to wage a one man war on the Nazis. A bit slow in places (the pace can be uneven at times and the book is quite long), but an enjoyable novel that does a pretty good job when it comes to exploring rather classic themes of American contemporary fiction: the American dream and the figure of the artist (I think there’s a particularly interesting focus on how the artists navigates the corporate world and its rules) and their creative process.

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel: this is a pretty classic rec, the book really got a lot of hype when it came out? It’s a dystopian-ish novel set after civilisation’s collapse, following a post-apocalyptic troupe (of Shakespearean actors). It’s a really odd, but surprisingly quiet book. Not sure if a pandemic is exactly the right time to read it, but I thoroughly recommend it.

The Garden of Evening Mists by Tan Twan Eng: I feel like this book is extremely complex to summarise to be honest. In short, it’s a book set in Malaya at the end of the 1940s, following a woman who, after surviving Japanese wartime camps, spends her life prosecuting war criminals. But truthfully this book is about conflicts and contradictions and in particular about remembering and forgetting. Lovely prose.

The Secret History by Donna Tartt: and also The Goldfinch. I’m sure no one really needs me to introduce Donna Tartt?

The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton: quite cerebral mystery set in New Zealand in 1866. Honestly you have to be a patient reader who enjoys novels with a pretty complex structure to like this, but if you’re into this sort of challenging read...go for it? It’s a book of interlocking stories (with 10+ pov and main characters) with a really fascinating structure based on astrological charts, which provide insight to the main characters’ traits and personality as the mystery unfolds.

The Hours by Michael Cunningham: ok...do not watch the movie first. The Hours is an incredibly difficult novel to describe to be honest: it begins by recalling the last moments of Virginia Woolf’s life, as she’s writing Mrs. Dalloway. The book focuses on three separate narratives, each one following a specific character throughout a single day of their own life. Goes without saying that I’d suggest being familiar with Mrs. Dalloway itself first though.

An Artists of the Floating World by Kazuo Ishiguro: not one of Ishiguro’s most famous works (most start reading his work with Never Let Me Go or The Remains of the Day), but probably my favorite out of those I’ve read so far. The novel follows Masuji Ono, an artist who put his work in service of imperialist propaganda throughout WWII. Basically a reflection and an account of the artist’s life as he deals with the culpability of his previous actions.

Stoner by John Williams: I feel like this is an odd book to recommend, because I don’t think someone can truly get the hype unless they read it themselves. Stoner is a pretty straight-forward book, following the ordinary life of an even more ordinary man. And yet it’s so compelling and never dull in its exploration of the characters’ lives and personalities. Also, I’ve just finished Augustus by the same author, which is an epistolary historical fiction novel narrating some of the main events of Augustus’ reign through letters from/by his closest friends and enemies. Really liked it.

Do Not Say We Have Nothing by Madeleine Thien: back to integenerational family sagas (because I love those, in case it wasn’t clear lol), Do Not Say We Have Nothing follows a young woman who suddenly rediscovers her family’s fractured past. The novel focuses on two successive generations of a Chinese family through China’s 20th century history. While not every character got the type of development they deserved, the author does a good job when it comes to gradually recreating the family’s complex and nuanced history.

There’s probably more but I doubt anyone’s going to reach the end or anything so. There’s that lol.

#book recs #book rec #litblr #2020 reads #all the typos are my own LOL #also i didnt put here philip roth or auster #but tbh #i dont think anyone needs me to rec them???

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peggingtaron · 4 years

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Spectacle

‘Mad’ Teddy Smith x Reader

The Krays need publicity for the reopening of Esmeralda's Barn. As a famous heiress, it’s important that you’re seen enjoying yourself there; so the Krays assign ‘Mad’ Teddy to make a spectacle out of you.

Contains: Smut, with a capital S

Words: 4.7K

Masterlist

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Echoes of incessant whispers. Stares burning over your every move. These things were only to be expected everywhere you went. You were (Y/N, L/N), the ‘Duchess’ of Haggerston, informally dubbed by South London’s most prominent gangsters.

Sure, you weren’t out there arbitrating criminal activity or enforcing illegal transactions as the men were. You worked for the mob in your own way. Your value to them was your mere presence and approval. Being the heiress of South London’s most influential mobster, you were an asset to both friends and foes. Allowing yourself to be seen enjoying yourself or purchasing goods and services at certain business establishments was considered an endorsement.

The recent buzz surrounding Esmerelda’s Barn since the Kray twins had taken over, had caught your eye. No doubt, the Krays were waiting for you to make an appearance to attract more attention. To you, they were doing just fine on their own. The casino had been the talk of London’s West End thanks to Reggie and Ronnie Kray’s dealings. Nonetheless, you walked alone into that casino with confidence and that signature enigmatic demeanour that never failed to turn heads. No matter how successful and popular a place was, you carried yourself there as if you were the very foundation holding the establishment together. It was all in the attitude; you could fool anyone into thinking they needed you.

You knew it was working by the way the Krays observed you from their table, glancing at you while talking amongst themselves. Every time you saw them look your way from the corner of your eye, you’d feign boredom just to get a kick out of how it would cue them to engage in a discussion of how to keep you entertained.

The gentle vibrato of the star of Esmeralda’s Barn had been lulling over the casino. At this point in the night, most people had retreated to a table or a seat by the bar to watch the songstress. She was enchanting enough that you were willing to forfeit the act of seeming bored, to engage in the show. This was not lost on the Krays.

You finally allowed yourself to look their way from across the room. You met eyes with Ron, who greeted your gaze with a slight grimace, stiffening up his posture and turning over to Reggie, a silent yet gruff request for you to carry your eye contact to him instead. You did as he wanted, meeting eyes with Reggie who happily took the responsibility of greeting you. He etched his signature smooth smirk, giving a gentlemanly bow of his head. Reggie turned his head to Ron, whispering something in his ear, and while the two were engaged in conversation, your eyes wandered to where Ron’s arm reached round.

You were careful not to meet eyes with the man by Ron’s side. At least not right away. Looking at someone so intoxicatingly striking as ‘Mad’ Teddy was something you needed to do in doses. Your eyes started at his elbow that rested atop the table, slowly trailing up to peer at his hands, his fingertips lightly tracing the rim of his glass, stroking slowly to the rhythm of the music. The dose from that was intoxicating enough already, observing the delicacy yet precision of how his fingers curled around the glass edge. You lingered your gaze there a little longer before you began eyeing his suit, up his torso and finally resting your eyes on his shoulder where Ron’s arm was wrapped around.

A cigar hung in between Ron’s fingers, his hand perched on Teddy’s shoulder. Teddy’s lips came into your focus as he turned his head, leaning in towards the cigar Ron was holding and taking a drag from it. Your eyes followed his lips as they pursed around the cigar ever so slightly grazing against Ron’s fingers. He turned his head, leaning back as the smoke escaped his mouth, misting around his face to frame a pair of roguish green eyes that were burning right into yours. You were finally looking at him. All the features you took your time observing individually now came all together in a complete picture.

As you finally let your gaze settle in his eyes, a smirk plastered across his face, one that started off coquettish. Subtle, yet alluring enough to lure the weakness in your centre. Though as Teddy’s ego became aroused by your stare, his grin grew wide and smug, a grin that made you surrender your eyes from him, making sure to roll them before returning your attention to the enchanting songstress on stage.

You and Teddy weren’t unfamiliar with these types of exchanges. This was one of many times you’ve met eyes, many of which ended with you rolling your eyes to assure him of a disinterest — which was ultimately a lie. You engaged in conversation a few times, mere small talk with the occasional flirtatious nickname on his part. Each conversation brief, yet tantalising enough for him to remain on your mind, the lingering image of him keeping you company on the ride home alone, and keeping you warm in the comfort of a lonely bed.

Pretending your own fingers were Teddy’s each night was a task that grew difficult the more you bumped into him. Your imagination couldn’t do him justice and your own touch was not nearly enough to satiate your need. However, it was all you could content yourself with, as no scenario that you could think of would prompt Teddy to so much as caress you. Entertaining your yearning gazes at him were merely a means to crow in cockiness that he had such an effect on you.

As these thoughts returned to your mind, you accompanied it by soaking in the image of Teddy’s fingers from across the room, rhythmically tapping along the side of his glass. You knew he was watching the way your eyes scanned him feverishly. Adding fuel to the heat that you felt rising within yourself, he clasped his fingers around his glass, lifting it up to take a sip, guiding your gaze to his lips once more.

As he took one faint sip, you watched as he removed the glass from his lips, giving you a clear view of his tongue teasing its way out of his parted lips to savour the taste of his drink. You found yourself mimicking his actions, your lips parting in a daze. You were so enchanted by every faint move of his, that you failed to notice that Ron’s arm hadn’t been around Teddy’s shoulder anymore, but waving beside you to get your attention.

Your breath hitched in your throat, ripping your attention away from Teddy to see the Kray twins standing beside your table. Ron stared down at you, the light glaring off his glasses, adding a complimentary intimidating tone to the gravelly way he greeted you.

“Why don’t you crack a fuckin’ smile, eh? Wouldn’ fuckin’ ‘urt, now would it?”

A light chuckle escaped you, his tone barely hindering your composure. “Alright, Ron?” You greeted him sweetly.

“Either flash a big smile, flash some quid at the roulette table, or fuck off.”

“Allow me to translate, love.” Reggie interjected, placing an affection pat on his brother’s shoulder, before stepping forward to lead the conversation. He helped himself to the seat next to you, turning to face you with a beguiling smile. “Forgive me brother, he’s been down on his luck lately. You on the other hand, seem to have a natural attraction with luck. Considered having a crack at the roulette table yet, Duchess?”

The roulette table was the centre of the casino, and you, the Duchess of Haggerston, were bound to be seen having a good time there. You planned on going there either way, but having that slight bit of attention paid to you by the debonair brothers themselves was the minute of entertainment you needed before you obliged with their wishes. You allowed yourself to show how charmed you were by Reggie, though your eyes shot back at Ron, amused by how he was staring you down. “I quite prefer Ronnie’s approach.”

“Good, cause I ain’t fannin’ up your dress and kissin’ your arse.” Ron’s eyes wandered, not caring to hide how disinterested he was with talking to you. “Speaking of kissin’ arse… where is that Barney Rubble?” He muttered to himself, turning his head round back at their table, snapping his fingers at an amused Teddy who was watching them from afar. “Oi, Teddy!” Ron nudged his head as an order for him to come over, a gesture that had Teddy on his feet in a heartbeat, making his way to your table and gussying himself up.

“You see, ‘ere, dear Duchess, I’m not your fuckin’ babysitter. Got better things to do, so this…” Ron gave a firm slap on Teddy’s backside, cueing a child-like giggle from Teddy, “...is my gift to you.”

“You like ‘im, don’t you?” Ron frowned slightly at your scoff of a response which was prompted upon seeing the pompous grin Teddy had plastered across his face. Waving his hand dismissively, Ron scoffed in return, “Nah, ‘course you do. Can’t blame you — look at ‘im, he’s like a vanilla wafer, you just wanna dip in your tea, doncha?” Teddy was beaming at the compliments Ron showered him in.

“I don’t mind, be good to get ‘im off me ‘ands for a while anyway.” Ron gave one last squeeze on Teddy’s behind before stiffly walking off, past Reggie. “I’m gonna go find me a cupcake.”

Reggie patted his brother on the shoulder as he passed. “Yeah a’right, Ron, go find yourself a cupcake.” Reggie shook his head and chuckled under his breath, “Tosser. Can’t get ‘im to pay attention to one thing for more than a minute.”

“Alright, then.” You piped up.

“Alright, what?” Reggie looked at you.

“I’ll give a crack at it, shall I? The roulette wheel.”

Reggie smiled, holding out his hand for you. You took it and got up from your seat, hooking arms with him as he guided you to the heart of the casino, Teddy following not far behind.

“I think you’ll find you won’t be disappointed.” Reggie let go of you, smoothing his hand around your shoulder. “Listen, love, I’d love to stay and keep you happy, but I’ve got some business to take care of. You be ‘right if Teddy kept you company?”

You bit your lip slightly, avoiding eye contact with Teddy, who peered over Reggie’s shoulder. “I suppose.”

“There’s a doll.” Reggie winked at you, nudging your chin affectionately.

Before Reggie walked off, he made sure to pass on a few words to Teddy on his way. “Ay, Teddy, listen, ‘right? You stay ‘ere. If she ain’t tipping her head back with joy within the ‘our…”, was all you could manage to hear. You let yourself look at the two men. Teddy nodded along to the stream of instructions Reggie whispered in his ear, his smirk etching wider, his eyes dancing up and down at you.

“I’ve got it, Reg. Don’t worry.” Teddy nodded, his eyes trained on you. Reggie excused himself once more before disappearing.

You turned your head back to the roulette table, occupying yourself with watching the wheel spin. “Don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself there, Duchess.” Teddy’s voice piped up, as he stood beside you.

“‘fraid I’m not.” You responded dryly.

“You could do us a favour and fake it, eh?”

“Never been quite good at fakin’ it.”

“What you doin’ in a bloody casino, then?”

Teddy scoffed when you didn’t counter a response. He turned, leaning his face near yours, beckoning you to look at him. “Come on, how ‘bout a smile for ol’ Teddy Bear, eh?”

“Fuck off.” You didn’t budge.

“Don’t act all coy, now, babes.” He kept leaning in and arching his head in attempts to make you face him. He was determined to break through that stoicism with an agitating persistence. “What was you thinking about before, looking a’ me like that? Back at the table.” It was already working.

You paused for a moment before countering, “What does Reg want you to do with me?”

“I asked first.” Teddy responded abruptly. “Oh sod it. I suspect both our answers are the same.”

You finally looked his way, furrowing your brows in bewilderment. What you were thinking while looking at Teddy was obvious, so Teddy implying that Reggie had asked him to do something similar was something you couldn’t understand.

Teddy shifted himself closer to you, his shoulder brushing yours as he brought his hand to the small of your back. “To put it vaguely, I’ve been told to make a spectacle ou’ of you. I think I’ve something in mind that’’ll suit all our interests, including yours.” He drew out the last word into a whisper, his breath tickling at your ear.

You stiffened at his touch in an eagerness to veil how flustered you were. “Make a spectacle, how?”

You could feel him smirking as his lips brushed at your ear. “Could spin my fingers round your cunt like a roulette wheel.” Teddy’s hand inched lower, smoothing around the curve of your backside, giving it a firm squeeze. You sucked in a breath as his hands dropped lower, fingertips dangling across the back of your thigh and curling around the bottom of your dress. He turned his head in a way that guided you to face the roulette wheel. You felt as Teddy began circling his fingers at the back of your thigh in perfect unison to the spinning of the roulette wheel your eyes were fixated on.

You bit your lip trying to steady your breaths. You ripped your eyes from the wheel, the sight of its speed accompanying the growing speed of Teddy’s circling becoming unbearable. You subtly looked around behind you, surprised to see that Teddy’s overt groping hadn’t caught anyone’s attention.

“You’ve done most of the work for me, so thanks for that.” His voice beckoned you to face him, and you finally did.

You frowned at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“No need for me to warm you up. Seems like you’ve been doing that for yourself ever since you set those pretty little eyes on my fingers.” You knew exactly what he meant, though you preferred to feign oblivion, staring at him blankly. Half in a desire to continue the nonchalant act, the other half in a desire for him to seek proof. It didn’t take long until his fingers began rising up your legs from behind you, inching up your inner thigh, delicately gracing over your panties. His tongue spilled slightly from his mouth as he looked at you, coating his bottom lip in a sheen of wetness mirroring the dampness he felt through your panties. “This for me, innit?”

Your shuddering breath, coupled with you closing your eyes in bliss, was a sufficient enough response. Teddy stepped behind you, allowing more access to you while also shielding his action from that much view from others. He began stroking you through your panties, and you couldn’t help but tip your head back against his shoulder as you tried to stifle a moan.

Teddy began smoothing his other hand around your waist to your front, curling his fingers to bunch up your dress. “Let’s show everyone that dripping cunt, shall we?”

You lifted your head, grabbing Teddy’s wrists and prying his grip off you. You didn’t allow yourself a second to reconsider, as you walked up to the roulette table, helping yourself to a seat. The dealer asked if you’d be joining for this round and you nodded eagerly, trying to compose yourself and recover from Teddy’s touch.

Teddy chuckled as he took the seat beside you, turning his whole body to face you. “Hm… ‘spose I’ve gotta find another way to make a show outta you...”

As you placed your bet and waited patiently, Teddy’s hand rested on your thigh. You didn’t make an effort to remove it. It was under the tablecloth away from everyone’s view. Teddy beamed upon seeing that you didn’t even pretend to object to his advances this time. “See, now was that so ‘ard?” He chuckled. “This time, Duchess, no need to bite back them moans. Let everyone hear what a dirty littl—”

“I wasn’t moaning.” Your responses were becoming weaker and less effective after every advance he made, your tone withering in its assertiveness.

“Oh I beg to differ. Plus, you said yourself you wasn’t that good at fakin’ it, innit?” Teddy chuckled as nothing but silence came from you, your mind too occupied trying to formulate a response while attempting to ignore Teddy’s fingers that were inching closer. Swiftly prying his way under your panties, the heat of your clit was washed by the cold of his fingertips. You breathed in a sharp gasp, gripping onto the edge of the table, trying to quiet the moan that shuddered its way out of you. Luckily, those around the roulette table and those passing, misconstrued your moans as an exclamation of anticipation as the roulette wheel spun.

“This is in the best interest of us all.” Teddy’s voice dropped lower, and his mischievous smirk was replaced with a stormy eagerness in his eyes. His fingers were moving at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“How exactly is this in the Krays’ best interest?” You were surprised you were composed enough to speak again.

Teddy circled your clit, resting his chin on the palm of his other hand as his elbow propped up on the table. That cocky grin returned. “You can pawn off those pathetic moans as excitement for the game.”

“That’s…”

“Clever, eh?” He let out a light giggle.

You wanted to frown, but your mouth hung open at the feel of his fingers working at your core. “Allow me to offer an example.” Teddy began delving his fingers inside you, your arousal that pooled a while ago allowed seamless access, as he abruptly curled his fingers harshly without warning. You yelped loudly, coincidentally in unison to the cheers coming from the aristocrats surrounding the roulette table, who watched as the dolly was placed on their winning numbers. Teddy spat out an obnoxious chuckle amused at the timing. “Ha! That was too good!”

You scowled at him. “You’re a little shit.”

Teddy quirked an eyebrow at you. “Sorry, what was that, darling?”

“I said— ah!” You moaned loudly, as Teddy picked up his pace, massaging deep inside your walls thoroughly. No doubt, the attention of everyone round the table was caught, so you disguised the moan as a triumphant cheer, smiling through it. The dealer made a humorous comment on your cheer of victory as he swept away the losing bets and made payouts to the winners including you.

The dealer asked if you were up to make new bets, though too distracted by Teddy who had kept his pace steady, you hummed.

“Is that a yes, miss?” The dealer frowned at you confused.

“Y-Yes…” You found yourself gasping as Teddy picked up his speed. “God, yes!”

Everyone chuckled at your enthusiasm, interpreting it as anticipation towards a winning streak. To your mercy, Teddy stopped. Though to your disappointment, he drew his fingers back from you, adjusting your panties back on and removing his hand from you. You hated the whine that escaped you from the absence of his touch.

You steadied your breaths. You didn’t have time to process what had happened, as everyone was waiting for you to place your bet. Doing so in a hurry, you had knocked some of your own table chips off the table. You cursed under your breath, urging yourself to calm down. Before you could reach down to grab the table chips, Teddy stopped you.

“Allow me.” Teddy smirked and waggled his eyebrows at you.

Your eyes widened, but before you could object, Teddy was already diving underneath tablecloth under the guise of collecting the chips. Somehow without arousing any attention from anyone else, he didn’t return back out from under there.

The roulette wheel was spinning again, and you bit your lip at what was to follow. Keeping your eyes trained on the wheel, you felt Teddy’s fingers begin smoothing up your legs again. He gripped each one hard, lifting them over each of his shoulders. In a swift motion, he grabbed the legs of your chair, pulling you in hastily towards him, your stomach pressed against the edge of the table. Your body jerked forward, your core meeting with his mouth forcefully. Your fingers were gripping hard onto your table chips, the feel of Teddy’s tongue through your panties driving you insane.

It was as if Teddy read your mind when his fingers dug underneath the elastic of your panties, pulling harshly until they tore off, the cold air of the casino greeting your bare center. Teddy’s tongue ran the length of you, his voice humming, a rush of vibration running through you. A few thorough sucks of your clit made you bang your fist against the table. “Fuck!”, you exclaimed. As luck would have it, you were losing your bet in the game and your exclamation was interpreted as one of disappointment.

Your body stiffened. You had to be more cautious. Those first few times were just luck, your next rush of pleasure may not coincide with a moment to cheer or exclaim in frustration about, in the game. Teddy could sense this hesitance from under the table and gave a harsh playful bite at your inner thigh.

You bit your lip to stifle a gasp, and instead clenched your thighs around his head and squeezed as a means to chide him. Though he groaned in slight pain, it only cued another vibration from his voice to surge through you. Feeling a dose of impulsiveness, you wrapped your legs tighter around his neck pulling him back to your core.

Taken aback, Teddy nuzzled against your clit again. You could feel a smirk begin to etch across his face again and you raised an eyebrow curious what was to follow. Teddy delved his tongue deep inside you, turning his head in a way that buried his nose against your clit while his tongue made work against your walls. Your breaths became out of sync with his, as you began bucking your hips around for deeper contact. Your movements were thankfully disguised as a bouncing of impatience by the surrounding people.

You tipped your head back in pleasure, though as you looked up, you saw Reggie. He took one look at you and fluttered his eyes down, grinning to himself. Teddy must’ve done exactly as he was instructed. You furrowed your brows at Reggie, who greeted your stare with a mockingly innocent raise of his eyebrows, before moving along and disappearing into the crowd. You chided yourself for thinking you had the Krays wrapped around your finger. You had your fun thinking they were worrying over your enjoyment at the casino, all the while they were certain that they could ensure you were having a great time, and profiting off your endorsement while making a fool out of you.

The roulette wheel took its last spin, when you found yourself on the brink of release. Teddy was merciless, not allowing your growing sensitivity to hinder his speed. “Oh… oh… oh…” Your gasps and moans grew louder, coinciding with the slowing speed of the wheel as everyone looked to see where the ball would land.

A loud wave of cheers from everyone took over, as you let out a long moan, Teddy removing his face just in time for your release to drip down your legs. Your breaths grew heavy and quick, your core sore and your head weak from a violent rush of pleasure. You didn’t care that you had won yet another bet. All you wanted was Teddy to lick you clean of the mess he caused between your thighs, before you’d pull him back up from under the table forcing him in a heated kiss. Despite your hunger for him being satiated, you still wanted more. And you hated it. He made a spectacle out of you, and not only did you oblige, but you couldn’t get enough of it.

Before you could allow Teddy to coax anything more from you, you got up from the table, retreating quickly. Paying no mind to the cold rush between your legs, your release dripping down you, you briskly made your way to the stairs leading out the casino. You picked up your pace upon hearing a set of footsteps catching up behind you, but you were too late.

“Not so fast, love.” You gasped as a pair of arms reached around you aggressively. Teddy pulled you flush against him, his teeth grazing against your ear as he whispered, “I’m not finished with you.”

You turned your head slightly to face him, almost moaning at the sight of your juices lingering on his lips. “I’m to make spectacle outta you, ‘member?”

Still weak and disoriented, you muttered. “Reggie seemed pleased with you. Your job is done.”

“Oh, I’ve done that first part for the Krays, sure. This is for me.” He grinned.

You greeted this with a confused frown. “You’ve no interest in me. I was just a job for you and when I’m not that, I’m just something you love goading to arouse your damn ego.”

“You’re exactly right, darling.” That stupid hope you felt that he would argue against the notion of you meaning nothing to him, was shot down in a heartbeat. His apathetic, blunt tone nearly sparking a rise out of you. “Nothing gets my cock harder than being revered. Being in dear Ronnie’s shadow all the time, I don’t get revered often, y’see...” Teddy grinned against the back of your neck, his breath steaming your tender spot. It took everything in your strength to refrain from shivering at the sensation.

“Now, you… You are no stranger to it…” Teddy’s hands ran its way up your body, feeling up your curves before pulling you even closer against him, his fingers grasping around your breasts. “If people saw me parading the Duchess of Haggerston around the casino... her letting out those pitiful moans ‘cause of me, cum dripping out her cunt and down her legs ‘cause of me… the stares I’d get… I could wank to that prestige for a whole bloody year.”

You pulled Teddy’s arms off you, turning around to face him and shooting him a brutal glare. Your eyes flickered down, spotting your panties blatantly hanging out the breast pocket of his blazer. He followed your eyes, grinning smugly at the panties, as if it was a medal of honour he wanted to flash proudly. “You’re psychotic, Teddy.”

“Do you object, Duchess?” He flashed a smile. You hated how confident he was, how sure he was that he had you wrapped around his finger.

You felt a heat rising within you. Whether it was in a rage at Teddy’s intentions to humiliate you to arouse his ego, or in a reluctance to acknowledge the desire for him that still remained, it grew unbearable. You could feel everyone’s eyes on both of you. Your eyes glanced down at Teddy’s lips, and he lifted his head daring you to proceed with what you’ve been pining for since the moment you set eyes on him.

With everyone looking, it would earn him the kind of attention that could supposedly make his cock hard, but for you, it was a mere case of quenching the mad desire to taste as much of him as you could. You knew by kissing him, he’d of won, and you would’ve surrendered your dignity all for a mobster’s boy toy.

“Fuck it.” You hissed sharply before tugging Teddy’s tie, forcing his lips against yours. You kissed him feverishly, desperate to savour the taste of him and the taste of yourself that still remained on his lips, paying no mind to the stares that burned your way.

After all those times you would bear witness to ‘Mad’ Teddy Smith being nothing more than Ronald Kray’s toy, it seemed it was time Teddy was granted a toy of his own.

#taron egerton #taron egerton x reader #taron egerton smut #mad teddy smith #teddy smith #mad teddy smith x reader #mad teddy smith smut #legend #legend 2015 #ronnie kray #reggie kray #tom hardy

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coffintownkids · 3 years

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I've had enough of being a mopey bitch today!

So I finished Ch.33 instead.

It's a great “atmosphere” chapter in that we have arrived in Yì City. (Also why, officially, I’m not actually translating it as Yì City throughout - though I am probably too lazy to fix my own tagging system on this site lol!)

This might help any fic writers out there looking for more location info beyond what could be gleaned from the show. Or at least I hope it does.

The chapter opens with this:

Shǔdōng was home to a number of river valleys screened in by tall mountain peaks. Its terrain was rugged and unforgiving with scant wind. It was why much of the area remained shrouded in fog all year round.

So, a bit of set up first. WWX and LWJ pass through a very rural little village on their “body part quest” and are trying to figure out where the hand is pointing them. The stone slab serving as a direction marker is cracked so they can’t read the first character. WWX ends up gaining some intel from the locals.

Wèi Wúxiàn said, “This road leads to Yì Town. The first character on the stone slab is ‘yì’.”

Lán Wàngjī said, “Yì as in chivalrous?”

Wèi Wúxiàn said, “It is, and it isn’t.”

Lán Wàngjī said, “What do you mean?”

Wèi Wúxiàn said, “It is indeed that character, but the meaning is wrong. It’s not the yì in chivalrous, but rather the yì as in coffin home.”

As you can see, this is a bit hard to convey in English. The character being talked about for yì is 義 (义 in simplified Chinese, though it is referencing the more complicated traditional character here, which is why they couldn’t read the broken stone). The word for chivalrous LWJ mentions is written as 俠義. WWX corrects him and says it’s a coffin home 義莊.

Now, a bit of an explanation. Coffin homes were real places used in older times as, for lack of a better term, like equal part morgues and funeral homes. Dead bodies would be stored here while awaiting transport to where they were to be buried (ie person died in village A but their family’s ancestral graves are in village B, so the body would have to be brought there.) They were also used to store bodies of those whose relatives couldn’t be found or the bodies of those too poor to afford funeral services.

Wèi Wúxiàn continued, “A few of the ladies were saying for as long as anyone can remember, six or seven people out of every ten dies prematurely in that town. They either have a short life or a violent death. There are quite a lot of coffin homes within the town to store the bodies. Put that together with that they specialize in coffins, ritual paper money, and other funerary offering objects. Regardless of whether people make coffins or bound paper, the craftsmanship is exquisite. That’s why it’s called by this name.”

Going forward, as it’s meant to be read as a nickname, I’ll be translating it as “Coffin Town.” Notice I used town and not city? That’s because 城 (chéng) can be read as town or city. Based on what we learn about the place, while it seemed to be a decently-sized place compared to the village they just visited and at one point had some prosperity, it seems more “town-sized” than “city-sized” overall. And that, my friends, is where my url comes from!

When the left hand drew itself into a fist, a dilapidated town gate emerged at the end of the main road. The edge of the wall was missing tiles and some paint. A corner had fallen off. It was an exceptionally dilapidated-looking blight. The walls had graffiti from who knew what people scrawled all over it. Its red gate had nearly faded white, its nails rusted black. Its double doors hadn’t been closed securely and looked as if someone had pushed them open just wide enough to slip inside.

Even without entering, it gave people the sense that this was a haunted place where demons ran wild.

While Wèi Wúxiàn was walking along, he was constantly taking in his surroundings. When they arrived at the gates, his assessment was, “The fēng shuǐ is really lousy.”

Lán Wàngjī slowly nodded along, “It’s inhospitable here.”

Coffin Town was surrounded on all four sides by steep mountain cliffs with their slopes inclining sharply towards their centers. They were an overwhelmingly intimidating presence and looked as if they could come crashing down at any moment. Completely enclosed by gigantic pitch-black mountain cliffs and filled with wretched fog, it was more of a supernatural creature than actual supernatural creatures. Just standing within it made a person’s chest tighten and heart race as its intensely threatening aura suffocated them.

From time immemorial, it has been said that “a place reflects the glory of its people.” The opposite is also true. Some places, due to its terrain and location, have poor fēng shuǐ and stagnant energy lingers. The people that lived there were prone to having short lives that would end far too soon. Everything would go wrong. If one’s ancestors had taken root here, even their bones would rot. Moreover, these places were often breeding grounds for the paranormal. The probability of corpse transformations, phantoms, returning spirits, and other such events occurring were several times higher. It was obvious that Coffin Town was such a place.

So Coffin Town sure is scary! One little translation point about LWJ saying the place is inhospitable. His line is 山穷水恶, which is a bit unusual. It’s usually written as 穷山恶水. It more literally means “barren mountains and foul water” so an inhospitable place. Not sure if there is significance in the word order being changed. Though it did make me think of another similarly-written idiom. 山穷水尽 meaning the mountains are barren and the river’s run dry. Aka there’s nowhere else to go. So without getting too much into fēng shuǐ, it is the idea of keeping everything in harmony. So with this place having bad fēng shuǐ, LWJ can also mean that there’s nowhere for the bad energy (恶) to go. I might be overthinking this bit here, but LWJ is famous for being a man of few words and still manages to convey an awful lot.

The pair walked right up to the gates and exchanged a glance with each other.

“Creeeeak,” they undertook the extremely heavy load of the misaligned gate doors and slowly opened them.

What they saw before them wasn’t the heavy bustle of traffic, but they also weren’t assaulted by the stench of dead bodies. There was only the ever-present blanket of white.

Filled with thick fog, the mist was several times denser here than it was outside the town. It was barely possible for them to clearly see the main road right in front of them. There were buildings set up on both sides.

The pair unconsciously took a few steps closer to each other while they entered the town together.

It was still daytime now, but the town was completely silent. Not only was there no one talking, there wasn’t even the sound of a dog barking. It was enormously strange.

However, since this was the location the left arm had indicated, so it would be stranger if it wasn’t strange.

They followed the main road for a while and the deeper they went into the town, the denser the white fog would become. As if something sinister was permeating the air. They could barely see ten paces ahead to start with and later they couldn’t discern shapes five paces ahead. And even further, they could barely see their fingers. The farther Wèi Wúxiàn and Lán Wàngjī walked, the closer they leaned towards each other. Their shoulders were brushing together and they barely managed being able to see each other’s faces. Wèi Wúxiàn had a thought spontaneously pop into his head, “If someone were to take advantage of this heavy fog and quietly slipped in between us and our duo turned into a trio, I’m afraid I don’t know whether or not we would discover them.”

Definitely gives off some serious Silent Hill-esque vibes, doesn’t it?

We do get further into the plot after this, but I just wanted to share a cool setting post. Hope you enjoyed it!

#mdzs #ctk reads mdzs #mdzs translation #my translation #yi city #coffin town

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adapembroke · 3 years

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Reading Tarot Like The High Priestess

My first exposure to the High Priestess in the movie The Mists of Avalon, a retelling of the myth of Arthur from the perspective of the women in the story. The character who most embodies the High Priestess in the first part of the film is the high priestess Vivian. She is powerful, mysterious, and magical. Like the Magician, the High Priestess is a master of all the elements, but, while the Magician’s magic comes from tools, Viviane and her priestesses use none. If they want to light a pile of sticks on fire, they uses their mind. If they want to lower the mists, their only tools are their hands. The source of the Magician’s power is external. Even if the Magician works with metaphors, the metaphors he uses are ones that have meaning in the outside world. Viviane and her priestesses find the source of their power internally. When a young priestess fails to light a pile of sticks on fire because she is distracted by visions of her brother, Viviane doesn’t tell her to get better at using her wand. She tells her to concentrate, to control her mind.

The power of the mind and intuition, this is the power of the High Priestess.

The High Priestess’s Magic is Intuition

How do you talk about intuition? It’s so different for everyone. Some people have a very physical experience of intuition. When they’re about to do something wrong, they literally feel it in their gut. Other people see colors or hear a skeptical grumbling noise from a guide. Some people just know things and have learned to trust that, even if they can’t give a reason. Some people are particularly adept at noticing signs and omens. Some people need tools to help them hear their intuition. They practice automatic writing or morning pages every morning, or they start their day with a Tarot reading, or are very particular about knowing what all of the astrological transits are and how they effect them.

All of these diverse ways of hearing from inner wisdom is beautiful, if you know what your style of intuition is, but it can be a nightmare for someone who is just starting to figure out how to work with intuition. You need intuition in order to know what your style of intuition is, and with so many options, it can be really difficult to figure out where and how to listen.

The dictionary is no help with this whatsoever. The word “intuition” comes from the Latin word intuit which means “contemplate,” which is a compound word of “to look” and “upon.” So, intuition is the thing you look at, but what are you looking at, exactly? Definitionally, intuition is like an onion. You try to get to the center of it and find nothing but air. The dictionary isn’t wrong. The messages of intuition may (or may not) be dramatic for the person experiencing them, but intuition is private, subjective. There is really nothing for anyone else to see.

Intuition relies on what the political theorist Hannah Arendt called “a silent dialogue between me and myself.” It is in this idea that we begin to get some insight into what intuition really is. It is a way of communicating with yourself. Arendt called this silent dialog “thinking,” but intuition is more than thinking. Thinking is communicating with your rational self. Intuition communicates with parts of yourself that have nothing to do with rationality at all, the sides of yourself that are a little closer to the animals and a little closer to the gods.

The first type of intuition, the animal side, is often called your “gut.” I call it the “animal side” because it’s the kind of intuition animals have. It’s the part of you that has an animal sense of people and places. It’s highly attuned to danger and safety, friend and foe. It’s the part of you that will not shut up about avoiding that stupid stairwell at work, even though you never run into anyone there, and taking it shaves five minutes off your walk to your bus. It’s the part of you that looks at someone you’ve never met and says, “That person is bad news.” Or it’s the part of you that’s kind of like a golden retriever, who meets someone for the first time and desperately, happily wants that person to be your friend.

The second type of intuition, the divine side, is what people usually mean when they say intuition. It’s a little bit ethereal and mysterious. It’s the part of you that knows this pendulum is for you and not that one. It’s the part of you that knows your friend really needs a hug, even though they haven’t said anything and everything about their body language says they’re fine. It’s not rational. There is no rational reason why the pendulum with the quartz stone and the moon handle is better for you than the amethyst stone with a quartz handle, but something in you knows, even before you try the pendulum, that one is for you, and the other one is not.

The more mystical expression of intuition has historically been associated with women. Some, even today, call this type of intuition “women’s intuition” and deny that people who aren’t women have access to this type of knowing at all. This is wrong. Intuition has nothing to do with estrogen or gender signaling. Everyone, regardless of their gender has intuition, but if you don’t identify as a woman, you may have a difficult time finding people in the media who use intuition to make decisions and look like you. Until this problem is fixed, sitting with the lack of representation can be, itself, a way of working with the high priestess.

The Dark Goddess

One of the High Priestess’s symbols is the moon. This marks her as a priestess of the Dark Goddesses. Dark Goddesses like Ceridwen, Hekate, and the Morrigan are comfortable with the darker side of human nature. Hekate is the goddess of witches who aren’t necessarily nice. Ceridwen is famous for her anger, and the Morrigan chooses those who are to be slain on the battlefield and eventually merged in the lore with the ban sidhe, the fairy monster who wails for the dead.

Why does the High Priestess come now in the Fool’s Journey? Why do we jump from the optimism of the Magician to a priestess of the goddesses of anger and death?

To answer that question, I’ll add another chapter to the story about Silicon Valley from “Reading Tarot Like The Magician.” In the beginning of the life of a technology startup, things look shiny and wonderful. You’re the Magician. You have this wonderful idea, and you know that no one else in the world has ever thought of anything like it. You feel like a genius. All you need to do is raise your hand on the right street in Palo Alto, and you know that all of the bankers are going to come running with their checkbooks begging you for the privilege of giving you cash.

You start to do the work. It goes well. You start to actually manifest some things in the world.

Then disaster strikes. You find out about a rival who came up with your idea six months earlier than you did. You make some appointments with bankers, and you feel like you’re speaking a foreign language when you talk to them, and they can’t understand what is so genius about your work. You learn that your idea isn’t actually that easy to implement. It’s hard work, and you’ve already quit your job, and you don’t own anything but your laptop and a box of frozen burritos. Your apartment is a tiny corner of somebody’s garage the size of a cubicle that you share with fifteen other startups.

You reach a dark night of the soul, and you come face to face with what kind of person you are when you’re miserable and under pressure. Ideally, you acknowledge your negative emotions. You figure out how you’re going to deal with being so angry, depressed, and jealous without causing anyone harm. At the very least, if you are going to keep going, you have to turn inward and face yourself. You need to connect with the part of yourself that wants to continue doing something difficult when so many things in the outer world—including rationality itself—seem to be against you. The part of us that stands between us and the darkness, between our rationality and the things we know that transcend rationality, this is the High Priestess.

Many people first encounter the High Priestess archetype during dark times in their lives. Until they go through those times, their lives simply don’t give them a reason to turn inward, and they have no reason to do the kind of intense contemplation that making friends with this archetype—and developing intuition—requires. If they come out of it, they will be more powerful and more intuitive and in more control of themselves than they’ve ever been, but like the High Priestess, they must do this work without tools.All they have are their will and their hands and their eyes and their gut.

With one exception.

The High Priestess’s Book

The High Priestess’s only tool is a book. Why this exception? The reason for this comes back to the dictionary definition of intuition, which is so deeply connected with “contemplation.”

Contemplation in most usages is just another word for thinking, but it also has a deeper meaning. In Druidry and some branches of Christianity, contemplation is a meditative act that is often assisted by reading sacred texts. This practice is sometimes called lectio divina, which translates as “divine reading.”

Divine reading is another gateway to developing intuition, one that is not quite as soul-tearing as the dark night of the soul. Engaging in that “silent dialog between me and myself” is difficult when you’re first starting out, and it can help to start by having a silent dialog between yourself and a book.

In divine reading, you turn your attention to a passage from a sacred text or poem, and after you’ve read it once, you go back and turn your attention to word or phrase or sentence that draws your attention. You don’t try to justify your decision rationally. You just go with the thing that stands out to you. And you think about the passage for a long time. If you think about it long enough, you find that you are, eventually, no longer dialoging with the book at all but dialoging with yourself. If you allow the dialog to go on long enough, you usually discover the reason why you chose that passage in the first place. Even if the reason for your choice remains mysterious, the decision to honor your intuition enough to act on it be an essential first step in learning to hear and work with your intuition.

The High Priestess in Divination

Like the Magician, the High Priestess is a beginner. She stands at the door of intuition. She accesses the waters of intuition behind her—and their attendant goddess—remotely, through the moon on her head and the book in her hands. Some come to her and ask her mediate between them and the Dark Goddess, but she knows there is only so much help they can get from the outside, and so she directs them back to their own wisdom.

As diviners, it is essential that we have a working relationship with intuition. Intuition tells us which cards to read or stones to throw. It guides us to the most important areas of a birth chart to focus on, and it tells us that this interpretation of a card is right and not that one, but there are times when intuition itself is the answer. There are times when a reading refuses to give answers and redirects our clients—or ourselves—to that deep inner knowing.

“Know yourself,” the High Priestess says. “Trust yourself.“

When you work with the High Priestess while doing divination, you are fundamentally alone. When you are learning her lessons, circumstances will conspire to make sure that you have a lot of alone time, or you may find yourself withdrawing into the darkness to commune with yourself. Don’t fight it. Darkness and quiet and solitude are necessary to begin to hear your own voice, and it is only after you have explored the dark corners of your soul that you can begin to hear the sides of yourself that rule your intuition and speak without words.

This post was originally published on Aquarius Moon Journal on 21 February 2020.

#witchblr #tarot

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alchemist-shizun · 4 years

Text

Eventyr

Word Count: 7058

Characters: Virgil, Janus, Roman, some original background characters

Pairing(s): Anxceit, platonic prinxiety

Warning(s): self-loathing, fire, death mention, wound mention, crying

Summary: It wasn't that exasperated move they did back in the woods, but more of a caring one, like they were carrying the most precious thing in the world to them. He did feel like he was, to them, their tenderness made him believe it with one quick glance.

A/N: Just so you know, the depiction of the mythical Hamingja is partly accurate, 80% completely made up for plot point. Basically most of this has been invented. I don't know if the hamingja title is an exact translation from Norwegian so I apologize, I tried. Anywho this is a super late present for @deetheimposter 's bday because I'm v slow and this took surprisingly a huge amount of time. Hope whoever decides to read it likes it! (Janus uses neutral pronouns here)

✾

There had never been a better time.

A low translucent mist still hovered above the dark blades of grass during the passage between night and day; the towering moon was lending some of its light so that the two lone heroes could continue their journey.

« According to the directions we were given in the last village, the so called “Molten Stone” should be just ahead. » Roman indicated right in front of himself, glancing back to his journey partner, Virgil, who was a few steps behind checking for any unwanted surprises.

« How does a molten stone even look like? »

« That's the take, friend. » he offered with a grin. « Don't think with your mind. »

Virgil started to ponder what else could there possibly be that he could think with as they ventured further in the forest.

He could see the mist quickly attaching to his boots and becoming tiny droplets of condensed air.

His feet followed Roman relentlessly, yet there was other stuff in his mind: less than an hour earlier or so, he had felt like something had been off. Virgil kept looking around for proofs and, with every turn, it was as if he caught a glimpse of some kind of entity following them.

Trying to shake the feeling off, he couldn't help but hear his family's voices reprimanding him in his head.

You're just paranoid, they would say, you're being overly vigilant, loosen up your shoulders.

His body tried to relax at best, releasing the tension in every reachable muscle, until the two friends stopped in front of a large body of water.

« This is it. » Roman trustingly affirmed.

Virgil glanced at the scene and slowly nodded, pursing his lips. « Yeah. A huge lake. Cool view, where's that rock now? »

His friend chuckled. « Right here! Don't you get it? »

Roman gestured to the water, so that the other could indulge further in his own inspection.

Virgil observed the water and realized what an odd optical illusion the lake's surface made mixed with the fog and the light shining from the- what?

Why were there warm coloured lights coming from the water?

Then he saw it.

A yellow eye disappeared behind a tree on the other side of the lake; Virgil took Roman's arm without breaking eye-contact from the tree. It was their silent understood signal to maintain carefulness, looking at each other's back.

« I don't trust this place. » Virgil murmured, his eyes wider than ever. « Are you sure they gave you the right- »

« Have at you! »

Virgil turned around to see his friend with his arm extended and his sword drawn, the pointy end right under their probable adversary's chin.

They didn't look … confident. Rather, they looked absolutely terrified, maybe even panicked: they held their hands up, their body slightly drawn backwards, eyes fixed on the blade and teeth bared. There was especially a sort of aura surrounding them, glowing in the same yellow pigmentation he had seen on their eye previously.

He only offered an intimidating expression as Roman did the rest.

« State your presence. Why were you following us? »

The person sighed and shook their head. « You have my entire purpose horribly mistaken- »

« Cut to the chase. » Virgil ordered.

They shifted their look onto him, as if they had just noticed him. « Alright then, if that's what you want. » they took some steps back and opened their arms, locking eyes with the other boy.

« It's an utmost delight to finally meet you as well, Roman Kallis. They call me Janus, I am the Hamingja that has been assigned to your generation years before your birth. You have reached the proper age for me to manifest to you and accompany you through your journey. » Janus bowed theatrically and rose only to be met with Roman's aghast expression and Virgil's … well, one thing for sure, the guy didn't trust people that easily.

« I had heard about you. » Roman recalled. « My relatives used to tell a surprising amount of tales of their quests and they would always mention you. »

« That doesn't mean we can immediately trust this … » Virgil hesitated.

« Oh, I'm an angelic being. »

« … That doesn't mean we can trust this angel. » he finished, glaring at the guardian as they smirked.

Roman pushed his friend's arm slightly. « Oh shush. So! » he approached Janus with stars in his eyes. « Are you about to take me towards important victories? Lead me to some conquerings? »

They blinked and took one step back as the boy started to invade their personal space. « More like accompany you. I normally manifest in your dreams, but I can show up here as well now. Just remember: the Norns take the final choice. »

Roman nodded seriously, while his friend wasn't yet entirely convinced.

« How are we sure you're who you say you are? »

« Virgil- »

A bright light started glowing around the angel as they levitated a few inches off of the ground. As they opened, their eyes shined a similar light.

You know anyone else that can do this?

The words echoed in his head while Janus's expression didn't change, his face still and blank.

They fell back on the ground after a few seconds.

« Are you in need of any more demonstrations? »

Virgil averted their eyes and turned around, silently resuming their journey as Roman sighed and apologized on his behalf.

That was going to be fun.

✾

Roman fell to his knees as the umpteenth village fell victim to an enemy's raid.

Flames rose from every possible surface, burning both everything to its roots and Roman's eyes; he turned, his expression dull, then he nodded at the glimmering wolf by his side.

« Let's carry on. » he murmured, trying to get back on track while having constant flashbacks of the fight he'd just lost, not caring of any wound, although minor.

Janus shifted back to his anthropomorphic form, about to disappear from the human eye, when a hand grabbed their wrist and they were forced to slow down and stay out of Roman's hearing.

« Doesn't Hamingja mean happiness? » Virgil looked right ahead of himself. « Because I'm not seeing any kind of happiness ever since you came here. »

« Please keep in mind that I do not choose the course of events, I only make sure that Roman's luck functions the way it should. »

He exhaled deeply through his nose; they mentioned luck plenty of times, but he sure as hell didn't see any fortunate events happening.

« Why isn't it functioning then? »

Janus looked over to the boy. « He looks alive to me. »

Virgil stopped dead in his tracks and stared at them. « You can't be serious. »

« I work with what I have. » Janus's eyes furrowed. « I'll have you know I do not find it pleasing to have my ways questioned. » with that, they were gone, leaving Virgil fuming with rage and yet repressing it for the sake of his friend.

He did not like them. Or their ways.

Something was wrong.

✾

It was getting ridiculous.

Roman had never been the luckiest man alive, but once he had been made aware of his conditions, he had started to become more careful about his every decision, and thus his every consequence.

So he noticed all his failures ten times more than usual.

What was the purpose of a guardian if there was no way to protect him? Was he overthinking it?

Or … had he expected way too much out of Janus?

He put his face in his arms which were resting on the wooden table of his parents' kitchen. He had come back for a scheming meeting between other relatives, but he couldn't keep his mind off of the numerous defeats he had been bearing for a while.

« There needs to be a way out of it. » Virgil stepped away from the kitchen's door and turned back to Janus who was standing in front of the fireplace, nourishing the fire with a spell. « Some sort of magic? An enchantment? »

The hamingja pondered the question.

A way to deviate the Norns themselves …

« It is highly risky. » they admitted, stepping closer to the other. « But not impossible. »

« How risky? »

« Deadly. » they looked into his eyes and detected both fright and curiosity. « It's technically quick and painless- »

« I'll do it. » Janus raised an eyebrow at him. « Whatever it is, I'll do it. »

Such determination for a mere friend.

They raised a hand towards his chest and pressed against it, Virgil felt like they were trying to take something from him like they could take his soul out of thin air.

Was he about to die? The famous life for a life deal?

Then, like nothing happened, Janus stepped away.

True, he felt slightly more tired, but nowhere near the deadly zone.

Seeing his appalled look, Janus provided an explanation.

« The only way to change someone's life is to make room for more time. What I did was take away a portion of time from your life for me to modify and add onto Roman's. »

« How much did you remove? »

« One month so far. »

« Make it a year. »

Virgil's look in his eyes didn't relinquish a slight bit of doubt. He stared and waited expectantly, ready to assist his friend with his own life more than needed.

Impressive.

« If that is what you wish. »

And so on.

Times upon times, their little unspoken secret grew behind Roman's back as events needed to be changed.

As time itself ran out, they kept adding a new amount, until little to none remained and the cycle repeated again.

If Virgil was willing to give his life for someone who saved his own, Janus was more than okay to satisfy both ends and make their protege as secure as possible.

Not that he knew any of that.

✾

« May I ask you something? »

Another victorious battle had them exhausted and resting in the safest place they found in the woods: Roman's hamingja had offered to keep an eye out as they slept.

Virgil nodded to them as they got further away from the royal.

« Why do you give your life away so easily? » Janus studied him with deep interest as it was the only thing he didn't understand about him.

Only a couple of months had passed since their appearance, yet that guy still filled a big question mark in their mind.

« Well, I wouldn't have one if it weren't for him. » Virgil leaned back against a tree as the memories surfaced. « He just so happened to be around when my village caught fire during a raid and he saved my entire family. »

« This happened some years ago, I remember I told him I would've done anything since I owed him and he simply took out his sword and named me his fellow knight. »

Ever since then, they would have gone on journeys together, becoming the inseparable battling duo they were to that day, despite the many lost fights and the very little body count.

« So yeah, all those years you took off of my life to help him, I do owe him those, thus I don't mind dying prematurely. »

« Those what? »

The two turned around abruptly and found the subject of their conversation right behind them, one thing only to be read on his face: dolence.

Roman scoffed. « I should've realized. Everything was going just too good. » he looked down and murmured. « Too good to be true. »

« Ro- »

« I can't believe both of you kept it from me. » he brushed his face with his hands as the others stayed silent. « You know what? If you really like to do things by yourselves, then so be it. »

He picked up his gear from the ground as Virgil approached him and reached out to him. « Roman, please. »

He turned around and backed away. « Don't you value your life?! Have you ever thought about how I'd feel about this? Can't I get a say in what happens to me? »

Virgil withdrew as well, too ashamed to add anything else.

« This isn't how I wanted to be guarded. » he added, he then stepped closer to Janus. « I hereby pass you up onto Virgil from now on. »

« Excuse me? »

« That's a thing that can be done, right? Like that time my uncle passed it onto my mum. »

Janus stammered in their thoughts. « Y-yes it can be done. »

Roman nodded before whispering a “then do it” and turning his back on both of them.

« I don't want you anymore. »

Without sparing them a last single glance, he ventured back into the opposite direction and disappeared like they had never met before.

Janus and Virgil shared a look, their entire purpose broken into little shards of failure.

« Just, » the latter pinched the bridge of his nose. « Do your thing. Vanish into thin air, whatever it is. I don't want to deal with you right now. »

Janus simply glared at him and started ascending, their eyes glowing a yellow light.

« Don't act like it's entirely my fault. » they said and then, in a second, they were gone.

And Virgil had never felt more alone.

✾

He came to realize he was actually glad about loneliness.

Nothingness was the perfect place to hide from the significance of anything around you, the importance of whatever grieved your shoulders.

It blended into the quiet gratitude of acknowledging you can rest after a week-long journey in the loudest place on earth.

There was a single downside to that kind of attitude: averting.

Sure, the night sky told you all you needed was sleep and your issues would vanish in a tomorrow thought.

And so the cycle repeated until you ignored parts of yourself.

Virgil had been lost in the empty reality for as long as he’d started travelling alone. He knew it was getting unbearable for his stress, so much that it plagued his surroundings and his dreams as well.

It was during one of these that Janus decided to show up and set things right for once.

Not that it went exactly how he imagined it.

He had been able to trap Virgil inside a repetitive path of the all so familiar woods and, as he tried to wake up, he noticed he couldn’t. That’s when the snake that had been following him all that time shape-shifted into the hamingja.

« Are we going to talk about it anytime soon, or do I have to lurk in the shadows? »

It was already too much.

All Virgil could see was the pained expression on Roman’s face every time he looked at Janus, he was reminded of all his errors.

He couldn’t stand it. He hated it. He hated them.

Probably even himself.

« It would be far better if you just left. »

« Left? » Janus took a step forward, their eyes squinting. « You think I can simply disappear out of your life? »

« You seem to have been doing that pretty easily lately. »

« I have only tried to lessen your pain, » they followed as Virgil walked past them, into the unknown of that dream’s reality. « Yet you don’t let yourself be healed and keep bearing a grudge. »

Virgil halted and scoffed. « Bearing grudges? » he said « To me it’s always looked like, ever since you stated your presence, everything has been going horribly. Would you blame me for a grudge? »

As he turned away, he didn’t notice Janus not following or clenching their fists.

They just wanted to do something good for once. Why did that always happen?

« If you so much wish and intend on hating me, » the scenery changed, the two were now by the edge of a cliff. They reached Virgil and grabbed a handful of his clothes. « Then do it silently. » Janus pushed him off and the last thing Virgil saw of the dream was the hamingja staring down at him.

He woke up with a yelp and had the same scene in front of his eyes, only that it wasn’t a dream anymore, there, in the woods.

« Because, much to your chagrin, I’ll always be with you. »

Janus turned, walking away from his interlocutor.

Sure, run off like you always do.

Virgil heaved himself up with his elbows. « Like I ever even needed you. » He picked up his bag and let the sword rest at his side. « You came here, watched my friend be miserable, » he abruptly cut some bushes standing in his way. « Fucked up my life. » Another clean cut on plants around him. « But I should stay quiet. » He raised his voice. « I don’t need you! »

Virgil started marching toward an unknown destination, just like in the dream.

« I don’t need anyone. »

✾

It had been a fairly uneventful week.

Virgil woke up, provided himself food, and carried on with his journey home, where he hoped he could’ve started anew, back to his family.

The truth was, he had no idea where he was going, he could’ve been walking in circles and he wouldn’t have known at all. He wanted to seek shelter in the nearest village, yet in a week there had only been the infinite forest.

Virgil kept walking, marking his surroundings so he could recognize them, were he to cross paths with them again.

There was a small clearing, where he felt drawn to the light of the day, it was almost a perfect circle on the ground drawn by the sun, a perfect place to lay down during that rather cold day.

Why not? It was so inviting.

There were mushrooms all around. Kind of like it had been there for some kind of purpose.

Virgil tilted his head to the sound of chirping birds. He was in the middle of taking a step forward when he felt a hand yanking him backwards from his cloak.

As he fell down, the image of Janus’s eyes piercing through him was displayed before him yet again.

Are you serious?

« What is your deal?! »

« Get up. » He looked as they had the audacity to simply walk away without another word.

Virgil was already fuming. « Would you mind providing an explanation to your sudden visit? » He asked, clearly annoyed, after catching up with them.

Janus stopped and turned with a smug look. « You said you don’t need me. You were about to get killed. »

« Killed? »

« That you were about to step into was a fae circle. Once in, you’re doomed. Never dare to do so. »

What a stupid move, how could he not remember? He had always been extra vigilant about this sort of thing.

Janus saved him?

« Don’t think too much of it. » It was as if they had read his mind. « I’m looking out for you to fulfill what Roman asked me to do. »

This time, the hamingja had decided to stay.

Their journey together had been silent. Way too silent not to seem impossibly awkward at first.

Virgil couldn't just stop replaying what had happened in his head, how Janus had been right there to stop him from certain death, how they had probably been watching him the whole time.

If that had been the case, why didn't they point him towards a useful direction?

Hours passed and they were already leaving the sunset behind themselves, not stopping until they had found the perfect spot to rest for the night; weren't it for humans' weakness, Janus would've travelled for the entirety of the night.

Virgil was still wondering why they hadn't left him to die yet. They could've gone back to Roman, after pretending his death had been wanted by destiny.

« Why are you so keen on guiding me if you detest me as well? » he was sitting against a tree, like any other time he stopped for the night.

« You really don't get it, do you? » Janus sat down in front of him. « I have to follow what the Norns have in store for you. If they did not intend on you dying so soon, I have to protect you. I'm bound. Or else, I'll go against them. »

« What happens if you do? »

Janus had their eyes fixed on the ground, frowning like an unpleasant memory had resurfaced in their mind.

« I get thrown in the Ginnungagap for daring. »

So they were stuck together, huh?

« Don't worry, I'll pass you up onto someone else as soon as I find a village an- »

« You want to get rid of me so badly, don't you? » Janus shook their head, exasperated. During his time alone, Virgil hadn't changed an ounce.

The boy tried to reply, rephrase at best, thinking those were Janus's actual feelings, but he was cut off rather quickly. « You want me out? I'll leave you out. »

Virgil caught himself asking them to wait, not exactly sure as to why he was.

Just as they left, the fire they had made had been put out, any light flicker ceased. Everything that felt nice left him in the complete void, alone and miserable.

« Okay. » Virgil quietly got to his feet trying to adjust his vision to the dark he so much hated. « Okay, I'm sorry. » he rapidly looked behind his shoulders as he heard the creaking of leaves way too close.

Fright and anxiety pervaded him: he disliked the dark, he hated it. Void was part of the quiet and peaceful nothingness, but it was no refuge for him, rather one of monsters that his mind created. He wanted out.

A glimmering of hopefulness.

« Janus? » he called, eyes darting in every direction. « It's not funny, please. » he retreated back to the tree trunk, arms folder close to his chest forming some sort of shield.

And so hope came.

He was lifted off his feet, suddenly mid air and watching down as an unidentified creature jumped out of the bushes in an attempt to catch a new prey.

When he looked up, still wide-eyed, he was met with the hamingja's face again, who was holding him close and away from certain death. Again.

« The truth is, Virgil, » it was only then that he noticed how his glowing spirited eyes actually sparkled up close. « You're going to get yourself killed if you stay out here alone. »

Virgil pondered their words for a short minute as they descended and he was finally put down. « What if you told me of all the possible dangers then? I won't bother you. »

How stubborn could one be?

Janus put their hands on their face. « Stop making this only about you. I'm here and we need to work together. »

That … actually was a good point.

« I just … don't want to be perceived as an inconvenience. » they confessed; Virgil had no idea where that opening up to him came from, but he decided to accept it nonetheless.

« I guess I'm going to make an effort. »

They nodded, prompting that the conversation was over so he could go back to sleep.

« It's not that I hate you. » Virgil murmured, his eyes already closed. « I only didn't want to forcibly take away something from Roman along with our friendship. »

Janus stared at him only to go back to stand guard a few feet away.

« Sleep. » they repeated, voice softer. « You're going home tomorrow. »

✾

« Could you stop walking so fast? »

« When you stop being too slow to catch up. »

« Excuse you I am not the eldritch being that learnt the paths by heart. »

Janus stopped walking at once, making their journey companion crash onto them, trip and fall backwards.

Virgil held his face which had hit the other's back. « What the Hel was that for? »

Janus chuckled and kept walking. « Stop complaining. »

I'm going to murder them.

Very regretfully, Virgil got back to his feet and made the other roll their eyes at his heavy mad stomping on the grass.

They could see an opening not too far away from them. Just a few more meters and …

A vast grey-ish blackness stood before them, any solid shape remaining from the boy's village was crumbling down to ashes, white and black and grey again, flying around and falling at Virgil's feet, almost accusatory.

Why weren't you here?

His legs felt heavy as lead, dragging themselves forward in hopes to find what he had lost without return. He was standing in the middle of the burnt down village, of what was left of his only home, the place he knew he belonged, the family he left without protection.

Janus waited, not wanting to interfere with his emotions but still feeling a sharp heart-clench with every move Virgil made in the middle of that decaying necrosis.

They strongly intook breath as Virgil sat down facing them, their eyes locked only that his were dull.

« I'm home. » he said on the brink of tears, aware that his voice was about to get crushed by the weight of his silent crying.

He hid his face between his arms, slightly shaking. Why did he not prevent that? Why wasn't he noticed? He had just been wandering around with his nonsensical issues while his family had been defending their village from an attack, probably dying by it.

He didn't want to think about the worst scenario yet.

As Virgil sorted out how to cope with the sky falling on top of his head, Janus went to do a quick scan of the area: no bones, no charred corpses, a good omen of everyone fleeing before it was too late.

They slowly approached Virgil, making their presence clear before sitting down by him. They rose their arm, their hand almost touching his shoulder, then decided against it.

The real issue was finding the right words. Even when so many disgraces had happened already throughout Janus's experience as a hamingja, it was always hard to console their protege at best.

« They're alive. » they announced, unsure of what else to properly add. « I … I could take you to the nearest village to figure this out. »

That took a reaction out of Virgil, who lifted his head enough to look at them, still hurt.

« Whenever you're ready. » they reassured, letting silence fall between them.

« Just give me a minute. » Virgil murmured.

Janus nodded, expecting him to sit there, simply waiting.

Instead, Virgil leaned on them, a silent ask for support, and they couldn't help but give it, slowly raising and arm to encircle him in a half-hug.

« Give me a minute … »

✾

With the second week of travelling coming to a conclusion, Virgil's doubts started to rise.

« Are you sure this is the nearest village? »

On his side, Janus brought their hands together, in theatrical dismay. « Oh, Norns, I'm busted. My secret evil plan has been uncovered! »

He could kind of see why he had been paired with Roman's dynasty.

« Janus. Where are you taking me? »

They sighed in annoyance. « Can't stand surprises? »

« Not after the last one. »

And there it was, the grim aura laid back on their heads.

« We're going to an elven town I know. I deviated our actual course a little. » there was a beat of silence. « I know they're very friendly with strangers there and we could also take a small break and rest. After everything that happened. »

Virgil didn't have any complaint to make against that.

« Then, by all means, lead the way. »

Not even five minutes had passed, that Janus increased their pacing and started dragging Virgil by the arm, pointing towards an arch out of the woods.

« Look! »

The banner read “Faarion” and the town looked on with nature, while still being nicely urbanized.

A swarm of little elf kids immediately greeted them. « Mx. Janus! You brought a new human? » their attention was averted to Virgil, all curious wide eyes and expectant faces.

« Uh- »

« Yes, we're possibly going to stay a few days. Now, care to show him around while I go announce ourselves to Aerith? »

They unanimously nodded and brought Virgil along with them, introducing themselves as they took him places.

Virgil looked back at him with a single murderous glance that said “I'll get back at you”, while the hamingja smirked and waved goodbye.

It didn't take long to find the town hall.

« Glad to have you back, Janus. » a smiling long-haired elf had been checking out documents at her office table. « Taking your hero here already? »

They had been remembered for how they would bring their hero to the elven town when they knew the soul was about to head to either Hel or Valhalla.

« Lovely to see you Aerith. » they unceremoniously dropped on the opposite seat. « It's actually kind of complicated this time. »

She raised her head from the documents and looked in their yellow eyes with desire to know more. « An intriguing tale. Do tell, dear. »

Janus tried their best to summarize the last few months: they mentioned Roman, the mess they made along with Virgil, how Roman passed them onto him and left without any way to trace him back again.

And then the whole contrast with Virgil, how they couldn't get through to him.

« We got to his old village, but all we found were ashen ruins and burnt down houses. That's why I decided to take him here. »

« A wise choice, indeed. » she agreed, solemnly. « Although I must say, it doesn't sound like he dislikes you anymore, does it? » Janus tilted their head. « To me, it's more of a fear of losing you as well, thus he pushed you away before he could develop something. I'd say he found himself too late. »

They didn't quite comprehended what she meant by developing anything, but they had noticed Virgil had been less hostile, if not in a teasing way, during the past few weeks.

« I suppose so. » they muttered as their thoughts drifted away. « I only … I wish to not make a mess, now that I have the opportunity to do something good. »

« You mean … »

« Yes. » they cut her off. « He's my first hope so far in millennia and I want to take the chance. »

Aerith gifted them a fond smile. « Have you told him? »

« Not yet. » they shook their head. « But I plan to, here. »

She remembered there was a place reserved to them, they used to take their souls there and explain the tragic destiny they were bound to and its reason why.

All in all, it was always Janus's fault.

Aerith gave them a small group of keys. « Go then, dear. Get settled for the night. »

✾

It was nearly completely dark outside when Janus got back to the town centre, only to find it fully decorated for the Rising Moon Festival they had forgot about.

« Mx. Janus! » one of that morning's kids took them by the hand and pulled them on the dance floor, simply swirly around.

« Hey Andiron. » they greeted. « Have you done your duty? »

« Yes! Virgil is a great listener! »

« Say, where is he? »

Andiron pointed to a spot in the back of the main plaza, where Virgil was hanging around by himself as everybody else had their celebration.

He did notice Janus reaching him.

« You survived. »

« I didn't know you lived here. »

They shrugged: it was typical of the kids to take everyone to the outside of their home. « Do you want me to show you around? We'll be staying here for a while. »

Janus sensed Virgil's discomfort with big crowds of people he didn't know; the boy acquiesced and together they keft the plaza and approached Janus's former habitation.

« Welcome to my humble refuge. » Janus bowed dramatically, which got a snort out of the human.

« You call this humble? I don't know why you would leave this. »

« Well, my parents used to live here, really. I'd be travelling around just like you. » they stepped toward the stairs.

« They … don't live here anymore? » Virgil tried, unsure of where eh was stepping with the conversation.

« They don't exactly live anymore. » they said, reaching the second floor and looking back at his companion. « It's not that bad, they're in Valhalla now. I could visit them if I wanted. »

He noticed the odd phrasing. « Do you want to? »

Janus breathed slowly, leading him to another room: it used to be their bedroom as a child, but what really enthused them was the terrace's view on the vast forest.

« I do. Kind of. But I know they'll ask me of my duties as guardian and … »

« You'd rather not? » Virgil followed them on the balcony and rested his arms on the railing.

Janus nodded. « This is why I should apologize. »

« To them? »

« No. To you. »

Virgil blinked repeatedly before turning his head to the hamingja, his eyes narrowed in confusion. « I thought we kind of settled it. »

« I don't mean our initial contrast. » they averted his eyes, rather looking down at the street lights adorning the darkness of the town. « My name isn't really Janus. I have a hamingja title that covers up what type of guardian I am and what type of destiny my humans are usually tied to. »

« My title is Sørgesang. »

They waited for Virgil to get it, they could almost hear the gears turning in his head. « Sad song? »

« Funeral chant. » they sighed deeply. « The meaning was explained pretty early, after the first few heroes that died horribly with me leading them towards inevitable death. » their body stiffened. « I … I'm apologizing because I ruined Roman's life simply by being destined to his dynasty, I'm like a curse among other hamingjas. We're usually protectors of good luck. I … don't know what went wrong with me. » they were gripping tight at the railing.

Virgil felt the urge to take their hands away, but decided against it a moment later. Maybe it's too anti-climatic?

« Didn't you tell me back then it's the Norns' work you're following? »

« Yes, but by assigning me to a family, my luck will affect the destiny they'll have once alive. » Janus started fidgeting, believing that, now that he knew he would keep trying to pass them onto someone else the quickest he could.

« So what you're trying to say is you're apologizing for your existence? »

That was the last thing they expected; they tried to retort something, but no argument felt good enough against his.

« Because that's what it sounds like. »

« I- Maybe I am, but what I really want to get to, is that I had never been lent or passed onto anyone else before. » they put their hands on his shoulders. « Virgil, you were never predestined to end up with me. This means my luck does not affect you and is not tied to your future. You're my only hope to prove I can lead someone to success. » they took his hands in theirs, trying to underline whatever they were getting at. « Just give me the opportunity. »

The moonlight illuminated the faint blush across Virgil's cheeks. « I … I will, okay. I'm sorry I misjudged you so easily at first. I hardly trust anyone. »

« That is a good quality. » Janus slowly let their hands fall at their side again, turning to look at the landscape.

I wouldn't trust myself either.

« Are those the woods we came from? » Virgil pointed towards the mass of trees that seemed to engulf the town.

They were about to respond, when instead Janus jumped off of the balcony and floated in the air in front of him, glowing like a firefly.

« Want to see for yourself? »

Virgil took the hand they offered, uncertain, and he got easily pulled up in the seemingly void. « Is this safe? » he asked, staring wide-eyed at the ground a huge amount of feet under them. « This is safe, right? » he gripped the other a bit tighter than needed.

Janus genuinely laughed as they flew to the roof of their home, placing them both on the gutters. The boy didn't stop hanging on their arm.

« If you look around yourself, you can see they're actually all around town. The one you're seeing now is the opposite direction from where we were going. »

« Mhm, definitely interesting. »

« Virgil, you're not going to die. »

« Says the one with flying powers. »

Janus got up and lifted the other by his arms. « You're not going to fall. »

« Yes I am. » Virgil blurted out, eyes darting between his only handhold and the garden they were above. Very much above.

« Don't look down. » Virgil was squeezing their hands like they could drop him any second. He obliged and was met with a soft smile. « There. You've got nothing to fear. »

Rather than dwelling on his concerns, Virgil was now lost in their expression and words, like he had been living in the dark and a new door had been opened up to him.

He took a deep breath and everything was lighter.

Perhaps because he had left all of his burdens on that roof for a while, or maybe because Janus had lifted them in the air again and they were holding him close, so they were sure he wouldn't fall.

It wasn't that exasperated move they did back in the woods, but more of a caring one, like they were carrying the most precious thing in the world to them.

He did feel like he was, to them, their tenderness made him believe it with one quick glance.

Before he knew it, his feet touched the grass, but one of his hands didn't leave the hamingja's as they walked.

« Let's get back to the festival. »

✾

Virgil came to realize elf kids were actually the epitome of smartness, the type of cunning intelligent perfect to architect schemes.

On the other hand, Janus had already understood their intention, yet they let them do their thing, knowing it all came in their favour eventually.

A couple of kids had taken both of them to dance until the two inevitably ended up moving around the plaza together.

�� What's on your mind? » Janus noticed how Virgil had been unusually quiet by the moment they clasped their hands together and started swirling around; not once their eyes had met as Virgil preferred to look down at his feet.

He muttered a simple “don't know”.

Janus leaned over him, whispering right in his ear. « Don't look down. »

Virgil tried to bite away his own smile, failing horribly: how could he not in such a situation?

Their foreheads met and he breathed in. « I was wondering … is this okay? » he tightened the grip on their hands as they kept dancing. « Is this alright? »

Could we be together?

They pulled him as close as their dancing let them, careful not to bother the others present. « Do me a favour, Virgil, close your eyes. »

As soon as he obliged, he felt a hand on his cheek, while the world seemed to slow down. He wasn't paying attention to where he was stepping anymore.

Virgil instinctively leaned onto the touch, letting the other lead him until he felt soft lips against his, stealing a short kiss he wished to melt into.

« Do you feel like it is alright? »

When he opened his eyes again and saw Janus's longing gaze, he was sure of one thing.

« More than ever. »

✾

And it was going to be alright.

Months from then, they would've reconciled with Roman, who had now joined the crown's many expeditions and accepted his eventual terrible end, ready to face it after living everyday like it was the last.

At last, Aerith convinced them to stay and got their own little life in Faarion, where Virgil took up magic thanks to the alf seidr and Janus lending him some years of their immortal life.

And so they became the legend of the everlasting couple; some say, if you know where to look, you could still find them dancing in the dark of the night, singing to the stars and thanking the moon for bringing them together.

Everything was far more than alright.

#anxceit #janus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #platonic prinxiety #sanders sides #fanfiction #ts fic

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eukennedy · 3 years

Photo

⟨ LORENZO ZURZOLO. DEMIBOY. HE/THEY. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, KENNEDY MORETTI-KING is actually a descendent of A T H E N A. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-THREE year old MEDICAL STUDENT from MILAN, ITALY has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite BRILLIANT & SELFISH.

FULL NAME: kennedy moretty-king. NICKNAME(S): he prefers his full name, but gets ‘ken’, ‘kenny’ and ‘king’ often. AGE: twenty-three. BIRTHDAY: november 1st. GENDER: demiboy. PRONOUNS: he/they. ( mostly goes by he, but doesn’t care ) ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: panromantic. SEXUAL ORIENTATION: pansexual. MAJOR: he’s currently in med school, but completed a bachelor’s of science in neuroscience. HEIGHT: 6′1". MORAL ALIGNMENT: neutral evil. MBTI: ENTP HOGWARTS HOUSE: slytherin. TRAITS: ambitious, intelligent, disingenuous, judgmental, quick-witted, selfish, petty, passionate, outgoing, charming.

short bio blurb.

for your first few years of life, your cries are met with warm consoling arms, kisses over scraped knees and meals around the dinner table. as you grow older, the concept washes out of sight like a salty tide: slowly, then all at once. your parents draw the lines and your nannies color them in, and with time you realize you might in fact be the only kid in history who doesn’t resent them for it. not one bit.

a son of two brilliant surgeons ( your godly parent delivered you as a gift, but your real mother is not athena ), your life has been filled with ten-minute holidays and interrupted birthdays. as you grew to understand it, you discovered you hardly minded much. after all, you inherited your parents’ desire for medicine and excellence, and you aspire to be so busy one day, crave it, actually, so you fill your need for attention elsewhere and allot the rest of your time to achieving perfection. you’re in the stars and you know it; there’s no time to hold success against the people that drove you there.

though your family’s social circle shifted its orbit to the rich and powerful, they remain grounded as ever. for this, your ego is your best kept secret at home. mother and father would grill you for your narcissistic reputation, so you hide it when you’re back for the holidays behind big smiles and perfectly plated meals. they want you to be proud, not arrogant, but it’s not your fault: you just can’t help that you’re always right.

if you fall, though, you fall far –- the morettis and the kings don’t throw money at problems.

they solve them.

your desire for greatness burns bright in your belly and your affinity for it has a habit of taking over the more tender parts of your heart. you’re not cruel, just destined, and nothing puts you on your toes faster than a threat, so you remove them. poll ten people and seven might think you brutal in your ambition, but all is fair in love, war and the pursuit of knowledge.

you’re focused but more romantic than what meets the eye. while chocolates and flowers aren’t your forte, but loyalty and dedication are. there’s no better lover than one who has a habit of sinking its teeth into anything they love, and you’re a dog whose never given up a bone in his life.

your softer inner workings are there underneath and you’re not ashamed, not at all, they’ll bring you the other piece of the puzzle one day. someone to help you hold that trophy high above your head and someone to smile while they do. vulnerability doesn’t set you back; it propels you, but you’re still skating around how to equip it just right. you’re prone to using words like fire to mask your ego, and communication fizzles out by a stinging touch.

now, you turn your head toward the future. the snap of latex gloves and the slice of a scalpel. the desire to invent, to perform, to heal – anything along the way is a blip, a moment, but nothing that can’t be solved when you refuse to stop. your fate is in your hands.

background breakdown.

kennedy moretti-king is the son of two famous surgeons: dr. giada moretti-king ( mostly known as dr. moretti ) and dr. jason king. both have made several advancements in their fields, dr. moretti herself working on innovative tools to advance laparoscopic surgery as a general surgeon, and dr. king as a renowned cardiothoracic surgeon.

dr. jason moved to america to italy where he met giada and that’s also where they were gifted little kennedy here, so he was raised in milan for the most part, where both his parents work at grande ospedale metropolitano niguarda.

while many others have struggled to find where a godly parent or a demigod child fits into their lives, their family was completely different. kennedy was an experiment of sorts, a gift from athena to one of the most intelligent human couples that couldn’t bear their own children. for that, athena has remained relatively removed from kennedy’s life, though he’s almost always been aware of her existence. athena remains quite happy with kennedy and his parents raising him as their own, and kenny knows giada as his mother, not athena.

although his parents were absent more often than not due to their demanding work lives, kennedy knew from a young age that he wanted to follow in their footsteps. raised mostly by various nannies over the years, kennedy was bothered when he was younger when his parents didn’t make it to every recital; however, this was mostly erased as he grew old enough to understand their occupations.

it was love at first sight when kennedy visited the hospital. maybe not the bloody surgery part, but medicine in general, the intense need to know about the body. why it worked the way it did. he was absolutely fascinated. the time he did spend with his parents was used to soak up all the knowledge he could, and they never minded much. it gave them common ground to love the same thing.

the kings were glad to have one son that wanted to follow in their footsteps, and so even if there’s a large distance between them at times, kennedy has always had a fairly good relationship with his parents, even if that comes with immense pressure. his parents would’ve been equally as happy should he had wanted to pursue something else ( all they wanted was a happy and healthy child ) but kenny’s desire to pursue the same line of work was a welcome coincidence. they teach him everything they know, but they’re well aware it won’t be very long until he knows far more than they do.

due to his constant pursuit of knowledge, athena’s never quite bothered to interfere in his life but the threats that lurk outside the protected walls were the reason kennedy chose to pursue education within eonia’s campus.

it should also be said that his parents are extremely dope people, they both did a lot of pro bono work, charity work and partook in doctors without borders. they are Rich Rich and so is kennedy, but they very much wanted him to have a down-to-earth experience. it failed, in some ways, but while kennedy could be years ahead in his studies, it’s limited so he’s only about a year or so ahead of his peers. they wanted him to have a social life! and not be an emotionally stunted child genius! but alas, it did not entirely work out <3

personality breakdown.

to say he’s a perfectionist is an understatement. he simply refuses to go into a field and be the flop of the family, so his pursuit of knowledge is pretty unparalleled. he takes his studies seriously, and doesn’t really relate to the college life of skipping 8ams to nurse hangovers.

not that he doesn’t have them -– but we love a man that perseveres.

wish i had his confidence of just assuming everything’s going to go his way. his label means force or necessity, and that’s because kennedy has a way of making things working in his favor with pure force. ‘kennedy, aren’t you worried you’ll fail?’ ‘no.’ ‘how?i’ ‘because i won’t let myself. duh’

although he doesn’t have the softest personality due to the lack of being hugged as a child, kennedy, at his core, isn’t entirely evil. he’s capable of caring about people and does. he’s a passionate person, and that can translate to love and loyalty for the right people. he doesn’t half-ass anything, so when he commits it’s on.

still, the boy has quite an ego. for him to think something is good enough to commit to takes a bit. he’s got particular taste, never backs down from a fight, and almost annoyingly always thinks he’s right. his ambition can sometimes blind him to the point of selfishness at times, even if his heart is in the right place.

he’s got his good qualities, though! for someone he loves, he’s there. he’s quite dependent when he wants to be, and he’s smart as anything. if you need help getting out of a jam, his brain is basically hardwired to know how to land on his feet.

kennedy is very organized and put together. never catch a wrinkle, even on his plain t-shirts. he shows his love through helping: he’s more likely to help you clean your dorm or organize your study notes for your test than deliver a monologue on his love for you, but it counts! you just need to know what to look for.

a brat but sometimes a lovable brat.

wanted connections.

a best friend. kennedy grew up without serious parental figures ( not by choice, but they were busy rip ), so i’d love a childhood best friend with him that accepts him for his personality flaws. he would be hella ride or die for this person, which he isn’t for much of anyone else, so that means quite a bit! someone to keep him grounded, call him out on his bullshit, but not completely destroy his ego.

exes. honestly, kennedy can be quite the petty betch. i can envision a lot of ugly breakups in his past OR we can plot some exes on good terms! he’s not totally emotionally stunted, can be quite a good boyf when he wants to be, but also a complete nightmare too. any gender feel free !

hookups. self-explanatory. college life. the nature of their relationship will be entirely dependent on the muses and their dynamic, but kennedy isn’t always the nicest to his casual flings depending on their dynamic. some friends with benefits could work, though, for positive casual connections.

enemies. okay, look at this bratty bitch. there is no way he doesn’t have some, if not many, enemies. he has a temper and doesn’t like to be told no, so if you ever wanna verbally spat it out, feel free. he won’t swing, tho. those are surgeon’s hands, baby.

hate-to-love friendship. someone dopey or complete unambitious that somehow kennedy still loves despite them being total opposites. he doesn’t get why they don’t do their assignments, or why they fall asleep drunk in the bathtub twice a week, but he really can’t deny that they amuse him and he cares about them.

anything else!

#euintro

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