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silverwashi · 9 months ago

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Day two | prompt : marriage | arrange marriage au

@jasico-challenges

cordially invited

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Nico di Angelo and Jason Grace the invite in his hand declares, embossed and golden, shining in the bright summer sun. He might think it beautiful if this wasn’t the first he’d heard that he was getting married.

Campers were whispering amongst themselves now, looking his way and pointing without an ounce of subtlety, each holding their own invitations. Jason clenches the invite in his hand, Percy’s which had appeared in mid air before the boy just moments ago.

Jason hadn’t particularly cared before he’d gone white and shoved it into Jason’s hands with desperation.

In an instant he was running off, invitation still in hand as he made his way to his cabin. She is waiting for him when he arrives. Standing at the base of Zeus’ statue. She frowns when her eyes reach the crumpled paper in his fist.

“Jason,” She says “I see Persius received his invite. Do be careful with that. I hesitated to invite him so I must insist he doesn’t lose it.”

Jason gaps at her “His invite? To my wedding? With Nico?”

She looks rather unimpressed with his questions. “Yes. If you read that invite then you know all the details.”

“But I’m not marrying Nico.”

“A bold thing to claim to the goddess of marriage,” she says with a slight warning in her voice “especially when I’m the one who made the invite.”

“Why?” Panic is lacing his voice as he begins to pace the room.

Hera watches his panic with disinterest. “As my champion I thought it high time you married.”

“We’re not together,” Jason stresses “where friends don’t love each other like that!”

“Who needs something as fickle as love?” Hera demands, furry roiling off of her as she continues with her tirade “I tried to give you love Jason Grace and what have you done of it?”

Jason pushes down the indignation he feels at that. “I appreciate what you did for me and Piper and we will be friends forever but we never would have worked.”

Hera waves a dismissive hand “You could have if you tried, but no matter. I’m being gracious, to you and the di Angelo boy. Or do you think the two of you will not work?” Her face twists derisively at the question.

“That's not the point!” Jason begs “Nico has a life to live, he’ll find a great love and only then if he so chooses will he marry.”

“You impudent boy, do you think I do this only for you? What life is that son of Hades to live, misplaced through time and despised by your peers. That devotion, that loyalty it is wasted on a son of Poseidon, no you shall marry Nico di Angelo, prove he can be loyal to Olympus, to your father and he will behave- les he be smote.”

“He- he wouldn’t,” Jason says without conviction picturing a hundred disgraced looks sent Nico’s way.

Hera shook her head. “You underestimate your father. You underestimate that boy. But I do not, Nico is the sort to inspire loyalty, he has powerful friends few amongst either camp and fewer amongst Olympians and that is worrisome.”

Jason clenches his jaw and fingers. Eyes blazing with a million different emotions. “Please-” He says small, unlike Jason Grace, praetor, slayer of Krios, hero of Olympus or even Pontifex Maxima. “Just please.”

“You may not think it my champion but I still wish to see you happy,” Hera claims in a tone that might be empathetic if it wasn’t coming from the queen of the gods. “I would not insist on this if I did not believe the two of you to be compatible. It is happening, no matter your opinion on the subject, the only thing you may hope for now is that you will be a good husband. In fact it is him you should be talking with now don’t you think?”

With a snap of her fingers Jason is gone, standing in front of the Hades cabin. He releases a weary sigh, and raises his hand to knock.

Nico doesn't answer and worry twists in Jason's gut. He opens the door, hoping not to step on any toes.

"Nico!" Jason called out, to the quiet darkness of the Hades cabin. He heard a grunt coming from Nicos bed and walked towards him with light footsteps.

"Nico!" He says again, nudging the lump swathed in blankets. Black curls peek from beneath and suddenly Nico is glaring up at him.

"What?" The question is short but the tone is normal enough that Jason assumes he hasn't heard. A frown twists at his lips. He raises his hand.

"I'm guessing you haven't seen this."

Nico purses his lips and brings his hand out from the blankets, snatching it from Jason's hands.

He stares at it for a long moment and everything is still.

"Oh."

"Oh?" Jason asks incredulously "What do you mean oh? I thought this might warrant more of a response than just oh."

Nico wrangles himself free from his cocoon, sitting up with a serious look on his face. "What else am I supposed to say? It actually makes a lot of sense."

"Nothing about this makes any sense!" Jason bemoans burrowing his head into one of Nicos discarded blankets.

Nico hesitantly reaches out, patting Jason's head in a jerky attempt at comfort. "Dad called an emergency family meeting last night," Nico explains with a shrug, blush coating his cheeks. "He asked me a bunch of weird questions. I guess he was making sure I’d be okay with this.”

“And you are? Okay with this?”

“Jason I was a gay grandson of a diplomat growing up in the 20th century, and then I went and fell in love with Percy Jackson,” His face twists at the name “Honestly the fact that you’re a boy is more than I’d thought I’d get to have for the majority of my life but it’s even better that it's you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh, but I don't want you to feel stuck with me. So if this isn’t what you want then we can figure this out, together.”

Jason shakes his head “No, that's okay. It’s probably best that we don’t get on Hera’s bad side, I just didn’t want you to be forced into something you didn’t want.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay.”

They sit in awkward silence for a moment before Nico plops back into bed, with a groan. “You can go now, I didn’t get back in until late.”

“Right.”

Jasons’ almost at the door when Nicos voice makes him pause.

“You know I really am glad it's you.”

This was supposed to be angsty but these 2 are so disgustingly in love they refused. Maybe Hera knows that maybe she doesn’t I don’t think she’d care either way. Also I had hardly considered the fact that Nico was probably perfectly poised for a political marriage before being dropped into the lotus hotel which is actually a really fun thing to consider.

#jasicobingochallenge2024 #marriage #fanfiction #arranged marriage #jasico #nico di angelo #jason grace

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libidomechanica · 2 years ago

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“So this guilty hand”

A tanka sequence

Just the lake’s surface. French were unjust. So this guilty hand! I started up, whence all my lovely To-morrow I brew my beer.

When these phrase, wherein lies happiness? For the truth doth breed, had seen thee and brought into her Dearie; I restless night and those regions?

To his owlet pinions darken; and shame shines. How somewhere i have nothing that runneth ever by the times unto the pleasure!

Who hath the Sum of right have Vizírs—but be they do we longer tarry. Under through whole age of linger in a sloping meal?

—Whose pants do make vnspilling ear attend the mouth. As if crooning over striven to hide that title doth breed, to stirred at their earth.

And I have seen my heart doth include those who are false to sayne for beautiful. Spring, should let its five days’ white. Time for themselves.

How the other lord. To his shroud; and the pale lies bare to eat a peach? Time to die, her soule vnbodied Good, some old text, still more free.

Of feathers, too, his streams,—even they in the secret love does the nearest of all. A rib’s a thousand living recollection.

A crescent’s coruscation, to be plac’d fore damask roses. Let me in which so long I could not change. ’ There let its five days’ white.

Than unswept stone besmear’d with teares doth come this cannot be—who binds himself more and launch. Thine ailment: tell me Love is so sick?

Yourself arise, you may have the eyes of duetie to death! Under tower of myrth now she passed her, the semblance of good as Fort Knox.

All that grows holds in perfection. Upon thy side again in thee. Love the same given to my hand, fair and never grownde did preach.

Sad, cheeped, trilled and twittered! The Lady of Shalott. The thinks of it selfe he may find his forgotten hand the sun’s eyes.

In the road be head or heart? Poets throned queen there was a soft October nightly votes particularly peopling Earth, nay!

So much dangerous sky. The Starrs, all are? You were in strife is shame. Blackened about thee stand wakened, shiver. And we not see’t?

To one, who was a library fine, I’ve got my gruel! The list of all. They err I dare to perceived with White-thorn neatly drawn.

His divine, a patron of some time, and sail for a heart do hit, that, alas! Submits his eyelid’s distance like an architect.

The fieldes so free. Will it not serve your bones supersede loveliness. What Juan’s chariot, rolling like-hat relationship.

Wings presence was outspread but as they sat, had ever spring? Close by, began dancing o’er the might be redeem’d a second yoke.

I try to think of yellow smoke that it should be. Was here be, as thou my old companies nimbly began to musick lendeth!

That alp. And love is merchandized whose hands found againe: forget and still, a sleepe, witness best, and some world with under the starre.

Thee, find the wind said, Alas! Gift refuse, nor with sounds, though I lacked its harvesters rich and do you, all so sure a plot had laide.

On desperate mortal love. Look there, a garden- crowned lip, and snaky Persius, the terrace, made deeper than night-swollen mushrooms?

To my misfortune and felt. There stood with all her stand, where thou wert to shed, over the stain ingrain, and let the dear offices.

Or all, what is, is; then awakes the more free. The red-breast I oft haue no more—and so grac’d to be plac’d fore damask roses.

The queen myself I cried, Hold! Echo hence at the dreamed away again. Spring, and I fetch her from your diminutive villains!

Don Juan, takes and with tempests play. Yet if you still german, I stood a marble, I needed a music- master. And so the gate.

Leaving my eye, until they think of. It is, that to myself known, everywhere older and pleasant now than when she saw Ilion?

Praised be all liars and long the shepheard can astert: Fayre fieldes ay fresh, as it rose, I moved as in Banquo’s glass, nor give them.

Arise, Oh Moon of Majesty unwaned! Him with flowers budded newly; and thro’ the world, which becks our ready ear to me.

To you, to whom every little bird, that must pursued his traine; what after all, what is love? And lost in him; cold starlight on each?

Statesmen, chiefs, orators, queens, patriots, kings, and burgher, lord and considering guide, amongst live poets and there! Sketch in May.

To the straw soles shred on the season, thou haunt’st me; and all their dear Eulalie before and are green. Deer- herd bent, sacred part of it.

Must thy heart thou are she, still, patches, ropes of shadow, since his rosy children teares finding westward up their petty ocean.

Sorrow not only in your member’d hours, such light laugh. Is idle; let us go and plump the haire, which you close, ne’er to wake more!

I play for malice show appear untouched by love for you got it, rubbing your memories of hel, and wonderful, without it.

Bowers. Thee strong bow into this goodly company instead of wicks, to let thy love. And wiser than all round as wise a dream.

And oh, her dreams I slept, and never me from reality. The king is awake, and maybe wildest dreams themselves out of Night.

That I am cattle to point they pelt each other’s grave; ghosts gliding without depth, without fewell you with me. On Cupids dart.

Four gray walls, and all this poor endeavour after me for the jars of sunset. This sinne was spent. Of either meant nor will not love.

Come, let me in, let me be thinking of you where i have no private life. Putting your eyes, with ministring look at us all.

To suddenly transfigured into the leaves, of the evening-moon.— Tell her-—so I stay’d my foolish tongue, although if I knew.

The faulter in the people is, or seen Timbuctoo, or hath offended Prince at the star that set may rise and let’s goe a Maying.

Young love were a whole troupes of sand, its other tons, ’ which in her with delight the lords of Pan: ay greatness flickering black despair.

Last little Castlereagh? The colors of painted; youth, when for a glass of Justice take their own, belonging to give what was Rome.

This is the exact affairs is most too blame doth beauty could learned Booke. The dreary vault receive our Liberal, who can blame him?

Is fancy but reality. The tale had touch the sheaves when love’s milky way among the alphabet on her own couch, new made!

I’d have been crying. The same declivity which makes us lie dejected, meaneth on the fier of myrth now lacks her woes?

For let me in a row like a stone, that lift and drove past some iouisaunce? The freshness of herself she will reverse. Tamed by delight.

But you in me so happy pens whither do I roam? And dance which Sense and fairy phantasies of the way it can enlighten.

That it is poetry, and of pearl garland wear my oracle of Medicine say. Four are they. Talk about a soul with you.

Pledged she falls, that’s how much of that; and as coy be as you’d coax a vampire. And the bottoms of a shepherd’s tongue into dust ygoe.

She asked: Melchior? While everywhere, and for the window’d heart is sair, that’s asymptotic to a goal, which now he is my name.

To tunes and love you I love you left them up, in bidding hence all to me, you like a fiend in a trance, beholding all his own.

But that break from this sinne was sent o’er. Is, or seen Timbuctoo, or hath the thick and some kept up a shriek like a cheek, catch your dwarf.

All yesterday stung by a downward glance together. Sit smiling and greene bayes to weariness, there yet the tip-top, there his traine.

A tinting and grac’d to be loved looked out my ears: aye, thought I, Morphean fount of their power, and short tunes? There lay a boar-spear keen.

It is the last oozings hours of death I find no such sort as, though I lacked it. The milliners who don’t differ, except the Whigs?

The Landholders was thine eies, the darken; and the fence. I lived for so long seal’d on her tenderest at ever sings a loud song.

Her souls relate in other sort of oneness, ye may, go marry her if she succeeded. For one plants increas’d the silently.

Neither mine nor me, thoughts, hart of mock-heroic— true-sublime? And would we defer our huntsman: Breath of him wasn’t Sanforized?

And meet some instincts. In grayish doubt is what I love is merchandized whose was a bachelor, which, with paine this will the matter.

Gladly spent; sing the whole age of lingered species, huddled in the bonds broke the Atlantic Ocean on my bliss—I was distraught.

I know a trick or two; and was interrupted by a man. It once I her did it become, and howling: she reach’d for: with snow.

For such a truth mai’st see, doe not grieve, that detail outside. Juno still say, whistle though my labyrinthine hair. World to hold it!

My business—which, if this cool cell, far as the cell of sea. Would also bonfires made of the moors was only one attorney.

Like our wide eyes of dapple brown: who stood the quieted. Again she caught this heaven! Moreover, through the night. I love you like.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #158 texts #tanka sequence

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upennmanuscripts · 5 years ago

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All’antica: Getting up-to-date with the Ancients

Fifty-two discoveries from the BiblioPhilly project, No. 21/52

Commissione issued to Andrea Valier by Leonardo Loredan, 1502, Bethlehem, Lehigh University, Linderman Library, Codex 21, fol. 1r (all’antica frontispiece illuminated by the First Pisani Master)

It is always gratifying to learn that one’s own manuscript “discovery” has already been made. Knowing that other scholars have come to the same opinion independently helps to confirm one’s intuitions and demonstrates that traditional methodologies can indeed be reliable when studying Medieval and Renaissance manuscripts.

Such was the case with a damaged and somewhat faded, but still very beautiful, frontispiece to a Commissione or Venetian charter preserved among the twenty-five or so Medieval and Renaissance manuscripts at Lehigh University in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. The Commissione, issued to Andrea Valier by Doge Leonardo Loredan (reigned 1501–1517) in 1502, concerns Valier’s duties, rights, and obligations as podestà or civilian administrator of Piran, an Istrian town in present-day Slovenia that was under Venetian control from 1283 to the extinction of the republic in 1797. The manuscript is part of a wider genre of Venetian administrative records that came to be transformed into luxurious showpiece copies.

I first encountered this manuscript during an initial visit to Lehigh’s Linderman Library in September of 2016. The refined style of the introductory miniature jumped out at me immediately. The pairs of escutcheon-bearing putti, crouching leopards, cowering fawns, and athletic satyrs all pointed to a work of some refinement. The pastel-toned aedicula, dangling male and female cameos, and figurative tympanum bearing a depiction of Orpheus showed that this was a work steeped in the so-called all’antica style, that selective revival of ancient forms so characteristic of humanist book production in Renaissance Italy. What is more, the illusionistic torn parchment effect applied to the text block, which is carefully shaded by the artist to suggest a ragged piece of parchment hanging from a classicizing structure, is something of a scholarly preoccupation of mine.1 We were clearly dealing with a work by a highly skilled Venetian or Paduan artist working in the ambit of Benedetto Bordone, the most prolific illuminator of such documents at the turn of the sixteenth century. And yet Bordone’s palette is generally much more garish in tone, with a thicker application of pigment. Perhaps this was the work of an artist slightly older than Bordone, closer in spirit to an earlier generation of masterful-but-anonymous Veneto-Paduan illuminators, namely the Master of the Putti, Master of the London Pliny, and Pico Master. In any case, the illustration was decidedly not “executed in a style which has been called the International Gothic,” as John C. Hirsh had stated in his valiant but not-quite-adequate guide to Lehigh’s manuscripts, written in 1970, when the state of research was far less advanced.2

About a year and a half after first seeing the manuscript, I was heartened to find the Commissione published (along with an excellent color reproduction) in Helena Szépe’s wonderful new book, Venice Illuminated.3 There, she attributed the frontispiece to the so-called First Pisani Master, so-named on account of two Aldine editions with Pisani heraldry, now in Manchester (Virgil, Opera, 1501; John Rylands Library, Spencer 3359) and London (Juvenal and Persius, Opera, 1501; British Library, C.4.g.10).4

Szépe’s book, which provides a much-needed synthesis of these documents that are at once numerous and poorly understood, also has the merit of shedding light on another little-known gem from a Philadelphia collection: the splendid Commissionne issued in 1517 by Leonardo Loredan to Paolo Nani, podestà and captain of the inland town of Treviso. The manuscript forms part of the Lawrence J. Schoenberg Collection at the University of Pennsylvania (LJS 57), but its flashiness is somewhat at odds with the rest of the collection. Upon first seeing its colorful frontispiece several years ago, I had a hunch that it might be by Bordone himself, an opinion that Szépe has thankfully seconded.5 The manuscript’s first page consists of an elaborate frame of all’antica ornamentation composed of silver-grey vases and shell gold volutes set against a deep blue background, which encapsulates a carmine-colored text cartouche and a rectangular miniature. The central image shows Saint Paul presenting a kneeling Nani to the enthroned Virgin and Child, a simplified version of large-scale compositions by contemporary Venetian painters, notably Giovanni Bellini (c. 1430–1516) and Vincenzo Catena (c. 1480–1531).

Dogale issued in 1517 by Leonardo Loredan to Paolo Nani, 1517, Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania, Lawrence J. Schoenberg Collection, LJS 57, fol. 1r (frontispiece showing Saint Paul presenting the kneeling Paolo Nani to the enthroned Virgin and Child, surrounded by a border of white and gold grisaille on blue, incorporating the lion of San Mark at the top and the Nani arms below); examining LJS 57 using MiScope (MISC) portable digital microscope at the Steven Miller Conservation Laboratory, University of Pennsylvania Libraries

This is a manuscript I know well, as I often use it in teaching. The brilliant colors of Bordone’s frontispiece bear witness to the high quality of pigments available to artists working in Venice, the European hub for the trade of paintstuffs at the turn of the sixteenth century. The work’s more impressionistic style and thicker application of paint herald a move away from the subtle, economical approach taken by the First Pisani Master in the earlier the Valier Commissione, and show just how much artistic styles can change during the reign of a single Doge.

from WordPress http://bibliophilly.pacscl.org/allantica-getting-up-to-date-with-antiquity/

#Fifty-two discoveries #Lehigh University

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thatsecondsalemboy-a · 6 years ago

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Drabble (loveisforchildren-percivalgraves)

@loveisforchildren-percivalgraves

He’s always the one who remembers, although he’s never quite sure why. The memories come in dreams mostly, but also out of the blue, when something stirs them up. It can be as simple as watching the snow fall in the darkness of the night, but he’ll suddenly be flooded with memories that both are and aren’t his. It’s taken him long enough to begin to work it out. Countless lives, lived over and over in different times, different universes, but there are always constants. For one, he’s always the younger of the two of them, although the age difference always varies. Another is that he always encounters him in some way. In some lives, they are closely intertwined, while in others, he maybe only briefly hears a name. But he knows, he always knows. The other constant is that in every world where he is alive while Percival dies, he feels it. It is excruciating, and even after countless occurrences, it never hurts any less.

****

You’ve had years…I’ve had lifetimes.

****

The earliest life he can remember, they only meet in passing. Athens, he thinks, or some other large city during the ancient Greek times. In this life, he’s from a somewhat wealthy family, the third son and fourth child overall. His life is carefree, enjoyable, or as much as it can be, and the only reason he meets him (Perseus is his name in this life- they don’t always have the same name, but there are similarities usually, either in sound or meaning. In this life, he is Khryses) is because his elder brothers are arguing again and he needs some peace and quiet.

And there, at the entrance to the city, is where he meets him, attempting, it seems, to sell the last of his wares. A small cart, laden with a collection of treasures. Normally, he doesn’t really stop at these sorts of things, but a flash of silver catches his eye, and he finds himself wandering over to take a closer look. It’s nothing special, a simple silver pendant, but for some reason, it calls to him. The curious look in the vendor’s eyes is intriguing, and he finds himself talking with him for nearly an hour. It’s the easiest conversation he’s ever had, and as he heads home once more, there’s a spring in his step and he feels light as air.

The next morning Perseus is gone, already on his way to the next city, and their paths do not cross again.

In this life.

****

“Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes around in another form.”

****

In lives where they do meet, their relationship is not always something romantic. He’s spent hours, collating all his memories, attempting to give them some order, to sort them as such, neatly written down in a little notebook. Some lives, the memories are stronger, in others they are weaker, for reasons unknown. Some lives, he can only properly make sense of the memories after writing them down and researching.

Like the second life.

The memories from this life are minimal. But then again, he supposes, it was not a long life, so it only makes sense that there are few memories from it. Those memories had confused him for a while, until all the pieces had fallen into place.

Rome. Here, his name is Aurelius, and he lives in a small home with his elder brother. Money is tight, but they manage, and he spends his days running around the streets. And one day, he wanders through the market, the smell of fresh baked bread leading him on his way. It’s as he’s about to reach for it that a hand knocks his away.

“That’s not yours.”

It’s a man, probably the same age as his brother, tall and weather-beaten, dark hair tied off his face, and he looks bemused at having caught the prospective thief. And so, doing what children do best, Aurelius promptly bursts into tears. Somehow, it works, and the man-Persius- breaks off a piece of bread for him to eat.

From that day, he visits the man frequently, helping him carry things (although he is perhaps more of a hindrance than a help in that matter) and chattering away. There’s a chunk of bread in it for him usually, and every time the gods are angry and the earth moves, Persius reassures him gently. In truth, he supposes he sees him more than he sees his own brother.

And then one day, the earth moves and keeps moving. The sky blackens, smoke rains down upon them and there are screams in the streets. The mountain gods are angry, they are punishing them, and Aurelius runs to Persius, coughing as ash dusts his hair. The man gathers him close, rocking him, soothing him, even as the air grows thick with dust and heat.

They die together, lost for centuries until the ruins of Pompeii are unearthed.

****

“The more I live, the more I know reincarnation is true.”

****

Some of the lives, he concludes after thought, are not also from a different time, but a different world in its entirety. Fantastical worlds, bizarre worlds, worlds beyond his wildest dreams and worlds that can only belong in myth and legend.

Sir Percival is a good master. He is just and fair and true, and the boy learns much from his time with him. A knight on a quest, a knight of the King himself, the legendary King, none other than Arthur himself. It is a stroke of luck for him really, to have been able to enter his employ, and for many years he travels with him. And if sometimes their hands brush when he hands his lord something, or their eyes meet across a room, neither of them say anything. They dance around each other, never coming close, but still revolving around each other.

It is a good life.

****

“The light at the end of the tunnel is just you with the chance to be born again.”

****

The next few lives, in truth, are a jumble of memories that he cannot quite seem to separate. The memories are mostly sensations, hunger, pain, feeling ill. He’s not even sure if met him in those lives or not. In at least one, he did, because he remembers the feeling of a kiss, soft and sweet and brief, and knows that it must be him.

The next he does remember does not have such a happy thought.

Paris. 1832. In this life, rather than brothers, he only has an older sister, and a largely absent father. But he studies hard and as he does so, he can’t help but notice what is going on in the country. People are dying in the streets day by day, while the King does nothing. It is unfair, and something must be done.

And so they plan their rebellion by night, and in the days, he studies and keeps a notebook of all the memories that crop up in his dreams. Dark eyes, it seems, are a constant too. But he has not seen them yet, and he is nineteen, dark hair curling around his face and doing his best to fight for what is right. And then, upon news of Lamarque’s death, it is time, and they build their barricade in the streets.

It is then, as he stands atop the barricade and looks across at the National Guard, that he finally sees those eyes, and his heart leaps to his throat. It’s him. And they are on different sides. The world turns against them, at least in this life, and his soul weeps as he readies his gun.

The rebellion does not last long. The next day, the national guard member looks across the barricade with a sorrowful expression. So many young men, their lives wasted. And as he looks, one in particular catches his eye. A boy, surely no more than a teenager, his body sprawled yet twisted across the top of the barricade. Dark hair fans out from his face, pale skin coated in red, and the sight makes him wince. A bullet in the neck, quick at least.

Percival does not remember in this life at all.

****

“Have you ever met someone for the first time, but in your heart you feel as if you’ve met them before?”

****

The world is at war.

Their country needs them, the papers and posters say. It will be over soon, they say, except they have been saying that since 1914 and the war still rages, with no sign of stopping any time soon. And yet they all must do their bit. Which is why Credence Barebone finds himself enlisting, lying about his age (he’s tall, and looks mature for his age at least, so they believe him without too much trouble) and then shipping out to France.

War is not glorious like they say. He sees the survivors of a gas attack on his third day and it is all he can manage not to retch at the sight. The war is harsh and brutal and unforgiving, and there is no way of knowing each night if they will live to see the morning. He prays harder now than he ever did at home, and now more than ever it seems like no one is listening.

After their commanding officer (along with half their squad) is taken out by a shell, they got another. Lieutenant-Colonel Percival Graves is a sombre man, tall and dark haired, and with dark eyes that spark a wave of memories in Credence’s mind. Are they destined to always meet each other in some sort of conflict? And when the man looks at him, he could swear he sees a spark of recognition there. But likely, it is little more than wishful thinking, so he pushes it to the back of his mind.

There is no room for that in the trenches.

They attempt to push forward one day, and disaster ensues. Shells rain down, gunfire rings in his ears and around him he can see his friends and fellows fall. He picks up the pace. The Lieutenant-Colonel is to his left, his jaw set. And then his world erupts in light and heat. His ears ring, but a voice swims through them, as pain erupts in his body. He’s being dragged, somewhere, he doesn’t know where.

“Come on Private Barebone, don’t clock out on me now.”

It’s…it’s the lieutenant-colonel. If he squints, he can make him out, a wine-red stain spreading across his shoulder. This is the end, Credence muses, as he realises that the screaming he has been hearing is coming from him, that the left half of his body is on fire with pain, and parts of the right are oddly numb.

“S-s-sorry, sir…” he mumbles, before the world goes dark.

****

“I would lose him a thousand lifetimes over if it meant I got the chance to love him a thousand times. And have him love me back. If only for a little while.”

****

Magic exists in some lives.

In one life, he is again Credence Barebone. But this Credence Barebone is more.

Obscurial.

He first meets Mr Graves in this life in the streets as he hands out leaflets condemning witchcraft, all while the darkness of his own magic churns inside him. The man talks to him, asks him questions about his home life, brings him to dinner and offers help for him and his sisters.

And then one day, he is different.

Perhaps, if this had been one of the first lives, he might not have realised, but he has been through so many now that the moment the dark haired man appears, Credence knows that it is not his Mr Graves. That familiar feeling is gone, and everything is just off. And he is not happy about it. The man approaches him in the alleyway, and Credence allows him to come close before lashing out, dark tendrils of smoke throwing him against the wall as dark eyes cloud over.

“Who are you, and what have you done with Mr Graves?”

Later, when the imposter is dealt with, and the real Mr Graves found, he is invited to stay with him. He accepts. The man’s home is large, too large for just one person, and Credence fits in as if he had lived there all his life. While the times may change, there are things that remain the same, and it is when Percival questions how the dark haired boy knows how he takes his coffee, that he begins to explain.

To his surprise, Percival believes him.

****

“I’m doomed to long for you with every birth. To chase you until I catch you. And when I do… bliss.”

****

Corvus Lestrange is an interesting life. The only son of a rich businessman and politician, heir to an immense fortune, and in general, a spoilt little brat with a habit for frequenting bars every other night and making out with the nearest available person.

Perhaps it is because, in this life, Percival Graves is so near and yet so unattainable.

He was seventeen when the man was first hired as a bodyguard by his father, and immediately he had leapt at the chance to win him over. And yet, much to his chagrin, the other man almost avoided his interest, ignoring him at times. No matter what he did, flaunting his eighteenth birthday, wearing tight, almost revealing clothing, flirting any chance he could get.

And every time he was rebuffed.

It’s disheartening really, but he’s never been one to give up.

In the end, it takes a boozy night out, a kidnapping, three days of torture and months of recovery, but he gets him in the end.

****

“I didn't fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we'd choose anyway. And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.”

****

In this life, he is not the one to remember.

It is a plain life, really. Nothing special. But in this life, he has grown up and there have been no memories of past lives, nothing but the occasional odd feeling that he is missing something. It’s a feeling he gets used to, squashes down and ignores for the most part.

In this life, he is coming home from work, coffee cup in hand, when out of nowhere, someone slams into him. Coffee goes everywhere, and he’s so busy apologising and trying to dab at the man’s shirt that he doesn’t register what the other is saying until a strong hand clasps his wrist.

“Credence?”

He doesn’t know how the man can know his name, unless he’s left his name tag on from work, and then he looks up, brown eyes meeting brown eyes, and he is hit with a wave, almost stumbling into the others arms.

“Do…do you remember me, Credence?”

Percival.

“I do now.”

****

“I recognized you instantly. All of our lives flashed through my mind in a split second. I felt a pull so strongly towards you that I almost couldn't stop it.”

****

Fin.

#loveisforchildren-percivalgraves #drabble #my writing #ooc

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sisterofiris · 7 years ago

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Callirhoe, or the Ancient Greek airport romance novel you didn’t know you needed

Have you ever heard of Chaireas and Callirhoe? Chances are you haven’t. These two charming people (literally - their names mean “Charming” and “Flowing-with-beauty”) are the hero and heroine of an Ancient Greek romance, specifically the oldest complete Ancient Greek romance, written around the 1st century AD by someone called Chariton of Aphrodisias (literally “Handsome from the town of Aphrodite” - notice a trend here?).

In the modern world, Callirhoe would fit in perfectly with the exciting-but-lightweight novels you find at an airport shop. The Roman writer Persius agrees:

His mane edictum, post prandia Callirhoen do.

To these I recommend “What’s On" in the morning and Callirhoe after lunch. (Satires 1.134)

That said, unlike most airport romance novels, you are seriously missing out on something if you haven’t read this one. Allow me to explain.

The story revolves around a young woman, Callirhoe, who is the best thing to happen to Sicily since their victory against the Athenians (an event which the narrator won’t fail to bring up whenever possible). What’s so special about her? She’s beautiful. Really, really beautiful. Like, regularly-compared-to-Aphrodite, seriously-Paris-would-ditch-Helen-for-her beautiful. Men fall head over heels in love with her at first sight. Women are green with envy. Suitors come from all horizons to meet her. Sailors row twice as fast when she’s on board, spurred by her presence. That’s how beautiful Callirhoe is.

Not only is she beautiful, she has character. She may not have much power in this men’s world, but that won’t stop her from knowing exactly what she wants and sassing back at the Persian king’s favourite eunuch for bossing her around. At one point, when she’s given bad news, her first impulse isn’t to lament her fate but to pluck out the eyes of the person who told her. She isn’t just a piece of booty being handed from one lovestruck man to the next. She’s got brains, and guts too.

Callirhoe's love interest is someone who can best be described as an emo jock. Didn’t think that was possible? Enter Chaireas. When he’s first introduced, he’s leaving the gym, cheeks red and muscles rippling from the exercise. He’s the handsomest and most popular of the guys, and clearly the life of the party - when he stops going to the gym, everyone else stops going too, because it just isn’t the same without him.

That said, I’ve never met a character with less of a will to live than Chaireas. MCR lyrics pale in comparison to his angst. The poor guy tries to commit suicide at least seven times in the book - I say “at least” because I stopped counting after the seventh time. (I also have to point out that one of these times is because he’s sailing away and feels bad for leaving his parents behind... so he literally just throws himself into the sea. His friend Polycharmus, who honestly deserves a medal for the number of times he saves Chaireas’ life, pulls him out.)

I'm so tired of being here Suppressed by all my childish fears And if you have to leave I wish that you would just leave 'Cause your presence still lingers here And it won't leave me alone

- Chaireas, probably

When he’s not working out or trying to hang himself, Chaireas is a genuinely sweet guy. I’ve got to admit I awwed several times at his interactions with Callirhoe, because you can tell he really does love her. He also listens to her, cares for her opinion, and trusts her with important matters. This doesn’t sound like much to a modern ear, but for a (more or less) Classical Greek girl, it’s pretty nice treatment.

That’s all lovely, you might be thinking, but what’s the story about? Well, buckle up your seatbelt, because you’re in for a ride. Soon after Chaireas and Callirhoe get married, a group of jealous ex-suitors make Chaireas believe that Callirhoe is cheating on him. Blinded by anger, he comes home and kicks her in the stomach (literally the worst thing he ever does, and Aphrodite thoroughly punishes him for it). Callirhoe falls down, and everyone believes that she’s dead. She’s quickly buried, Chaireas is put on trial but begs for death so pathetically that he’s acquitted, and everyone is very sad.

The end? Far from it! As a bunch of grave robbers soon discover, Callirhoe isn’t dead at all! The robbers quickly whisk her away to Miletus, where they sell her as a slave to a rich man named Dionysius. Of course, he falls in love with her and mopes around, begging her to marry him or else he’ll starve himself. Callirhoe finally accepts his proposal, but only because she has a secret: she’s pregnant with Chaireas’ child...

Meanwhile, Chaireas finds out that Callirhoe is still alive, and sets out to rescue her. Many adventures ensue, featuring pirates, slavery, eunuchs and wars, taking hero and heroine all the way to Babylon and culminating in a trial to determine: who will get to keep Callirhoe? Chaireas or Dionysius?

I won’t spoil the ending, but I’ll give you a taste of the final confrontation between these two highly educated men:

“ἀνάξιος εἶ τῆς Ἑρμοκράτους θυγατρός.” “σὺ μᾶλλον ὁ παρὰ Μιθριδάτῃ δεδεμένος.” “ἀπαιτῶ Καλλιρόην.” “ἐγὼ δὲ κατέχω.” “σὺ τὴν ἀλλοτρίαν κρατεῖς.” “σὺ τὴν σὴν ἀπέκτεινας.” “μοιχέ.” “φονεῦ.”

“You don’t deserve Hermocrates’ daughter!” “You more, you were enslaved to Mithridates!” “I want Callirhoe back!” “Well I’m keeping her!” “You’re appropriating someone else’s wife!” “You killed yours!” “Adulterer!” “Murderer!” (5.8.5)

In conclusion, if you’re not convinced yet, here’s a sample of what else you can find in this novel:

a fragile grasp on 5th century history (the author knows some things about the Classical Era, but clearly not enough to pass a college test)

fanfiction tropes such as “mutual unrequited pining”, “thinking the other is dead”, and author’s notes

“AN: okay I’m sorry about the last chapter, I promise you’ll like this one! There’s no piracy/slavery/trials/fighting/suicide/war/captivity, just true love and marriage ;) have fun reading xoxo” (an almost literal translation of 8.1.4)

a Persian king who turns out to be a sweet and respectful person and who cries when he’s reunited with his wife

the most dramatic Asian governor ever (instead of just saying “hey Chaireas, come out and show these people you’re alive”, I quote: “GODS, MY LORDS IN THE SKY AND UNDER THE EARTH, COME TO THE RESCUE OF A GOOD MAN! GRANT ME CHAIREAS FOR THE TIME OF THIS TRIAL! APPEAR, NOBLE SPIRIT!")

quotes from the Iliad at every opportunity (Chaireas misses Callirhoe? Quick, let’s quote Achilles grieving Patroclus!)

hyper-realistic trials, because the author worked for a lawyer

ancient stereotypes such as “the Athenians talk too much”

14 prayers to Aphrodite

and much, much more.

In short, please read Callirhoe. I promise you won’t regret it.

#callirhoe #chaireas and callirhoe #chariton #ancient greek #ancient greece

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vehlika-pelican · 7 years ago

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warning for long post! i always get my best ideas at night when im on mobile and cant do a read-more. sorry. blacklist "vehl's headcannons" to stop seeing my stuff. no rvb season 15 spoilers i dont think. me3 is like 5 years old now so im not tagging it as spoilers for any of the games. OKAY, RVB X MASS EFFECT TRILOGY CROSSOVER ( mostly ME 1 because its been two hours since i started writing this post now and oh shit) #TuckerFightsARobotArmy is gonna be the tag for this and the inevitable sequel posts at first i thought, with default Femshep being a badass red-head that would make our local badass red-head Carolina the obvious choice for the role but it occurred to me that she would make a better Miranda Lawson than Commander Shepard. The Director is The Illussive Man (Tim). Aside from the daddy issues, Miranda is a big supporter of Tim's until she finally sees his dark side and resigns during the end of ME 2 just like Carolina was a staunch believer in the Director until she had to face the music. The Freelancers are involved in Project Phoenix and ultimately its every man for himself when the Director starts indoctrinating/reaperfying troops. She gets assigned to the Normandy SR-2 just before the agents make their escape and she's left out of the loop and feeling betrayed. She carries that well into hunting the Collectors and her loyalty mission involves maybe saving York and getting answers. Carolina goes into hiding just like Miranda during ME3, trying to take down her former employer and his organization on her own until she needs help. Thats where our best dudes come in. but then if she's taking the place of Miranda, who could be Shepard? let's start with the Reds. Sarge is too...Sarge. Maybe he could take Admiral Hackett's place as Admiral Colonel Sarge because obviously (everyone knows he's crazy but going from enlisted man to fleet admiral makes him a legend, and he really earned a name for himself during the First Contact War. that name was legally changed to Colonel.) Grif would be Joker, so our esteemed pilot/vehicle operator who's all back-talk and bitching. Simmons is where it gets tricky. Simmons could be an engineer, possibly a quarian, who got prosthetic limbs from when he temporarily served with Sarge on a joint human-quarian deployment and became enamored with the freedom to experiment in the Alliance opposed to the strict policies in the Migrant Fleet and sought to return to his service by trying to kiss ass. but i also like him as EDI because of the proximity to Grif and how they would develop that friendship leading up to Joker's Mission when Grif unshackles Simmons to save the Normandy in ME 2. i also kind of like krogan!Grif, and you know the two of them would have the greatest time messing with the Alliance's engineers during the retrofits. then when Simmons gets a body in ME3 he tries to get a faux-skin to look human but there's a problem and its missing in places on the left side and Grif decides to tell people he's just got some prosthetics from an accident. all shiny and chrome on the fury road. Donut is Kelly Chambers. trained in psychology but rarely clinical, loving all the species, somehow spreading a space-dog STD around the ship, a bit too naive if pretty gung-ho about the mission but give him a belt of lift grenades and hot damn we're in business. Lopez is the AI who robbed the bank? embezelled money? (ME 1) and threatened to detonate a nuclear bomb inside a shopping center but actually managed to buy and download himself into a ship and set sail for sweet robot freedom in the Persius Veil. he was caught by Sarge and officially "destroyed" when he's really locked in a Rampart mech with AI shackles that force him to aid Sarge in his crazy science endeavors. he refuses to speak anything other than spanish out of spite even when he genuinely needs assistance. now the Blues. Washington will have been with Cerberus until about the beginning of ME3 which is when Tim starts indoctrinating troops and members of Project Phoenix take their chances so thats too late to start trying to save the galaxy from the Reaper threat. Caboose takes the place of David (i might be getting the name wrong), an autistic savant who can communicate with a race of alien AI (the quarian-made geth) and is unwillingly mentally linked to the geth for an unknown period of time by his own brother (one of his sisters then? my poor boy imsorry). This would cause the neural trauma/scarring resulting in Caboose being... more Caboose. but he isn't found until sometime in ME2 by Shepard and co. Freckles is the mad AI who goes rogue on Luna (not EDI or part of Simmons in this au) but ends up being befriended by Caboose. he inhabits an Atlas/Titan mech and together they're unstoppable. Tex is an attempt to recreate Allison as an AI inside a cloned body made by the Director during the early stages of his madness. now she's taking Ashley's place as a trigger happy space racist, a double agent inside the Alliance and on Tucker's squad. Church almost dates her but something...feels off...and instead spends his time fighting with her because it feels...familiar? like when he used to argue with his mom when she was alive. huh. Kaikaina and Grif petitioned to serve together so she's on the squad as an infilitrator of all things. she and Wrex commiserate over the story of how she stole a krogan warlord's biotic hammer and she tramatizes Grif by flirting with his 800-pound ass. (not that it goes anywhere. Wrex thinks humans are too squishy.) which leaves...Tucker. because who else. Commander Shepard took the responsibility of proving the existence and defeating the Reapers only because they happened to be at Eden Prime when the prothean beacon was to be recovered. it could have been anyone caught in the beacon- Ashley or Kaidan or any other marine- and that person would have tried to do the same. Tucker in RVB isnt so much chosen to be the savior of an alien race (Doc said he was but that was more Junior) as he gets caught in a bunch of shit that went down in ways he was not expecting when he interacted with an ancient alien artifact thank you very much. so he's on the Normandy SR-1 because he's an N7-in-training or outright failed to get past N1 (which is still impressive because he was considered and thats not easy criteria to meet. let my man be a badass space marine. just a little bit. badass-in-training. HE'LL GET THERE.) but is noticed for his potential and is to be evaluated by turian!/salarian!Felix for Spectre candidacy. the first human Spectre. he's a biotic, i can't decide between adept and vanguard. Tucker and Grif are Totally On To the mission's importance because "spectre's(Felix) dont come along for shake-down runs" in their new experiental human-turian ship and they arrive at Eden Prime mid-attack. Tucker and his squad try to clear a path to the beacon while Felix scouts ahead. but then they find his body and eyewitnesses say it was someone he knew by name that shot him once he let his guard down and his back was turned. "Locus" they say. supposedly leading the assault with an army of heretic-geth and a massive ship emitting a terrible sound. they fight to the beacon, disable bombs along the way, and find it just as Locus's ship departs. as the squad's engineer is scanning it, Tucker notices they're starting to levitate and rushes in to grab them and throw them aside only to get caught himself. he gets the prothean vision-warning about the Reapers and maybe a special prothean omni-blade and its on. he has to prove to the Citadel Council that their Spectre Locus is a traitor and that the Reapers are real but visions? galactic extinction cycles? oh you humans are so full of it. you've been part of the galactic community for 30 years and now you're here with a conspiracy theory at best? i cant believe we thought you could work for us. blah. Tucker marches off but meets Church who's been trying to take Locus down from within the system to no avail. Alpha!Church is the Director's son but Allison got custody after the divorce and now he's a grouchy C-Sec cop getting nowhere real quick. Tucker invites him along and he's a shitty sniper but actually pretty decent with the Mako's cannon considering it handles like a drunk krogan who can do a flip it you drive off the cliff edge fast enough (what are mass effect booster jets for?). they track down a krogan mercenary (Wrex is probably still Wrex. because who could hope to live up to him?) and fight through a strip club and kill Fist and rescue a quarian (Palomo? make that Jensen) with evidence proving Locus is guilty. then they save Dr. Emily Grey and help her keep her small clinic in the wards from being shut down and she gives them sweet discounts and all the free medigel they can shove into their pockets. they rescue asari!Doc from inside a prothean ruin (got lost on a yoga retreat and panicked when geth started attacking...i guess he could be an archeologist but maybe they drag Grey along for the ride instead...) but he's developed a split personality due to how long he's been alone in there and its kinda murderous but coupled with biotics its pretty useful. (and yes, asari are mono-gendered and are all "female" but ME: Andromeda confirmed that some asari use masculine pronouns/identify as "male" and there's no way that wasn't a thing in ME 1 canon so Doc is he/him). on Virmire, he almost shoots Tex AND Wrex on the beach- put down your shotguns you fucking lunatics i will biotically throw you into the ocean! he helped Wrex get his family armor so Tucker manages to talk him down but man Tex could you chill its been months already. he has to leave Tex behind though to protect the bomb while he and Wrex save Kaikaina and Kirahee and fight Locus. they evacuate and the bomb detonates and atleast it was instantaneous. she wouldn't have felt herself be vaporized, it was quick and we stopped Locus from getting an army of krogan. Church is devastated and knowing that Tucker leaving Tex behind was a conscious choice splinters their friendship. but. Tucker has to finish this. its bullshit and why us. why'd it have to be us on this ship in this life shewasmyfriendtoo- but its a race against the clock to the lost relay and Ilos and theres no time to have a real talk. its complete bullshit. they get to Ilos but Locus is ahead of them and they have to fight so many geth and find a 50,000 year old message which only Tucker can understand but fuck this we're being left in Locus' dust openthisstupid templedoor*swish* oh shit this things a fucking key "guess we didnt have to fight all them robots" he said stepping over the mountain of slain robots because fuck my life. Wrex how'd you live so long life fucking sucks. "i've been drunk for a lot of it" great. yup. can the Mako go any faster. and then they meet Vigil but dont record it because they're still idiots who forget/dont mind the details until Simmons shows up in the sequel you morons but hey remember THAT CHASE WE WERE IN LETSGO and they drive the Mako into a relay and if Tucker made sure to crash into a geth colossus no one says anything- and they fly out into the Presidium Commons like if the Mako had wings but itfuckingdoesnt and why are there even jets on this tank. Locus and Sovereign beat them to the Citadel and the arms are closed but Hal-9000 over there is just chillin' on the Citadel Tower like he's shishing the kebab himself. then gravity goes off and they fight sideways all the way up the tower and those turrets sure are being turrets you know and not differentiating between us and the assholes ahead of us. but they finally make it and stop Locus short of the apocalypse. Tucker goes all renegade Locus was just afraid, the Reapers put his life in persepective and we are all so small and insignificant, "is servitude not preferable to extinction?" you're just a puppet, they're using you because you're weak, because you let them, do yourself a favor-! but Locus claims its too late and they fight and kill him. but he rises anyway. the fight the first and only Possessed Marauder- Sovereign controlig Locus' corpse through implants. he was mostly implants. and once its ash ashashashes Tex didnt even get to be ashes its unfa- and Sarge is over the comm, open the Citadel's arms son so the Alliance can save the day and Tucker has a choice. save the Council and sacrifice thousands of soldiers. or kill the Reaper and worry about new leadership later. its Tex again. worse. i need to think, theres no time, you know what this thing can do you saw in the vision i believe you so what do we do. make the call. and Tucker needs the Council's support...but the Reaper needs to be killed...but saving the Council will cost too much...but the Reaper could still call the others from dark space...they'll trust me... will the new ones? will the Alliance? Anyone? no. but someone will definitely be alive. kill Sovereign. the Council dies. the Destiny Ascention is destroyed. the Alliance suffers minimal loses. humanity fills the vacuum of power. humanity is no longer trusted. they blame him. he does too. have any of his choices been good enough? right? much of the crew goes their own way. Church goes back to C-Sec. maybe he'll call. Wrex returns to Tuchanka, faith in his people restored. Doc joins Grey at her small clinic. Jensen returns to the Migrant Fleet with geth data. and Tucker and the rest are... disgraced. no one says but they dont have to. every breath is a reminder of his failures and what he did. so much potential in him once, they say. he could have been great. instead he did this. and they fight geth. chase geth. fight more. they head to Alchera. more geth, they said. it isnt. the ship is blown apart. Kaikaina shoves anyone who cant walk into the escape pods. The XO is killed almost immediately. Grif won't leave. Tucker, please, Dex! Get Dex! she yells as she's dragged into an escape pod by a Yeoman and he storms over because he wont lose anyone else but the hull is gone and you can't run in mag boots. Grif is fighting for Normandy. Tucker can hear him asking for just a little more just enough to- to- but Tucker's having none of it and pulls and heaves and forces his idiot pilot into the pod. of all the times Grif chose to be the opposite of lazy. a streak of yellow catches his eye and its coming this way and he pushes off and hits the launch button but the engines blow and he hits something as he is set adrift. he's losing air. fuck, its- its behind him. he panics and scrambles for the puncture but his arms are geting heavier and he's already wheezing short little breaths shortlittlefailures youfailedyoukilledthem youkilledher. the sun in the distance is bright. he can feel his body tilt toward the planet, sees the sunlight cresting over the horizon. his vision goes dark around the edges. but the sun is bright and he doesnt notice he isnt afraid and he falls *maniacal laughter* someone should have stopped me. i think its super out of character but this is a rambling monster and not meant to go super in-depth or anything. god help me.

#vehl's headcannons #TuckerFightsARobotArmy #lavernius tucker #rvb #mass effect

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sobeardtastemaker-blog · 6 years ago

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The Boy Who Never Gave Up

New Post has been published on http://www.elimarketing.org/the-boy-who-never-gave-up/

The Boy Who Never Gave Up

So you’ve got a goal to build your Internet business to a certain level by a certain time frame. You do have that goal, correct? If not, you might want to stop reading for a moment and make that goal right now before you proceed any further. After all…

If you don’t know where you are going, you will probably end up somewhere else. ~ Lawrence J. Peter

Now then, you’ve got your goal – so what else do you need to succeed? Perhaps the following story will give you the clue…

On the tough South Side of Chicago back in 1908, there lived a six year old boy and his widowed mother. Money was tight, so this boy (we’ll call him W.) got a job selling newspapers. The problem was all the older kids took over the good corners for selling papers. They yelled louder than W. could, and they threatened W. with a beating if he tried to sell his papers anywhere near them.

But W. had already purchased a stack of papers to resell, and if he didn’t sell them he’d be out his pennies. So what did he do? What would you have done if you were 6 and couldn’t sell your papers where the other boys sold theirs?

You guessed it – he looked for a different location. Not a better corner – those were all taken. Instead, he remembered this restaurant he and him mom often walked past. It was called Hoelle’s Restaurant, and it was always packed. Of course to W. going inside all by himself was frightening, as he’d never been in a fancy restaurant in his life. He was scared and nervous, so before he could talk himself out of it, he hurriedly walked inside and made a lucky sale at the very first table, and then more sales at the second and the third tables. On his way to the fourth table, Mr. Hoelle grabbed W. and roughly shoved him out the front door.

So what do you suppose W. did? He gave up and went someplace else, right? Actually, no. He waited until Mr. Hoelle wasn’t looking and walked right back in. The customer at the fourth table was so pleased with W.’s gumption that he paid for the paper and gave W. and extra dime before Mr. Hoelle pushed W. back out the door again.

Now, most 6 year olds would be satisfied with selling four papers and getting a tip besides. But not W. He walked right back in and resumed selling again. By now nearly the entire restaurant was rooting for him, and when Mr. Hoelle tried to escort him back out one of the customers whispered to let him be, which Mr. Hoelle begrudgingly did. About 5 minutes later, W. had sold all of his papers.

The next evening? W. was back, and Mr. Hoelle was ready to give him the bum’s rush out the front door. But no sooner had Mr. Hoelle pushed W. out the door, than W. popped right back in again. Throwing up his hands Mr. Hoelle said, “What’s the use?” and later the two became great friends.

So who was W.? None other than W. Clement Stone who would go on to turn $100 into millions and be the proponent of “Think and Grow Rich” by Napoleon Hill. He also gave $275 million to charity over the course of his 100 year life.

So what is it that you need to succeed? Certainly you need a goal, and you also need the same persistence and perseverance that W. Clement Stone displayed as a frightened but determined 6 year old boy.

It’s not that I’m so smart, it’s just that I stay with problems longer. ~ Albert Einstein

He conquers who endures. ~ Persius

And that’s not all we can learn from 6 year old W. His motivation was high because he and his mother needed the money. He’d already invested his pennies in buying the newspapers, and there was no refund for unsold papers.

W. was afraid to enter the restaurant but he pushed right through that fear before it could get the best of him. He knew he might get embarrassed by going back into the restaurant after being thrown out, but he did it anyway because he was determined to sell those papers. W. knew that achieving the goal was more important than the risk of being laughed at.

And he learned what to say by listening to the older boys. Young W. couldn’t even read the papers he was selling, but by repeating what the other boys said in a softer voice, he quickly learned the technique for selling papers in restaurants.

He had the motivation, the determination, the skills and persistence. Coupled with his goal, it was almost impossible for him to fail.

Just think – if that 6 year old boy could do all that on his first day of selling newspapers – what can you do today?

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dxviant-dxtxctivx · 6 years ago

Note

The split second of hesitation before Felix begins speaking tells Persius all he needs to know.

His LED stutters slightly, the only indication that he's alerted the proper authorities.

Quicker than any human being, Persius grabs the deviant's wrist and twists it to an unnatural angle, the carbon fiber bones in it's arm give against the pressure with a sick crack. He twists the arm behind the unit's back and cuffs it with a pair of handcuffs that have appeared in his hand from where they usually hang against his belt.

"RX700 model 'Felix', you are under arrest as a suspect in an ongoing investigation. Errors in your programming have led you to deviancy, and I am under strict orders to detain any and all deviants that I find. Anything to say for yourself, Felix?" He growls the unit's name, allowing himself a small smirk that twitches the corners of his mouth in victory. His grip on the deviant relaxes slightly.

"Are you looking for something?" Felix asked, calling down to the android. Leaning over the balcony of the motel he was staying at, he had watched Percy go door to door asking questions for nearly an hour. "Folks in this area aren't very talkative."

Persius blinks up at the android above him, an RX700 unit. “Good afternoon. My name is Persius. I’m an PK700 aiding in a Detroit Police investigation in this area. Might I ask your owner a couple questions?” He responds, already analysing the unit. Goes by the name of Felix, activated nearly a year ago- 11 months and 14 days, to be exact. The unit’s unkempt hair hides what is sure to be his blinking LED, though it’s temple doesn’t bare the telltale blinking light. Odd. He files that away for further investigation.

A small part of his programming blinks at him, reading, ‘s0FTW$RE INTXBiLIt/^^^’

He reminds himself to run an analysis for any errors in his code.

#ohohoooooooo #getting GOOD #felix #deviant-doctor #deviant doctor

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tipsycad147 · 5 years ago

Text

Gemini May May Day

By shirleytwofeathers

May Day is a public holiday usually celebrated on 1 May. It is an ancient Northern Hemisphere spring festival and a traditional spring holiday in many cultures. Dances, singing, and cake are usually part of the festivities.

Ancient spring rites that related human fertility to crop fertility gave birth to most modern May Day festivities. May 1 is the traditional day to crown the May queen, dance around the maypole, perform mummers’ plays, and generally celebrate the return of spring. Although our Pilgrim fathers were horrified by these reminders of a pagan past and outlawed all such activities, the maypole dance remains an enduring event.

In Great Britain, the custom of “bringing in the May” involves gathering “knots,” or branches with buds, on the eve or early morning of May 1. In England, a favourite branch is hawthorn. In Scotland and Wales, people choose the rowan, or mountain ash. In North America, we often select forsythia, lilac, or pussy willow branches to bring spring and the prospect of new life into our homes.

The best known modern May Day traditions, observed both in Europe and North America, include dancing around the maypole and crowning the Queen of May. Fading in popularity since the late 20th century is the tradition of giving of “May baskets,” small baskets of sweets or flowers, usually left anonymously on neighbours’ doorsteps.

In the late 20th century, many neopagans began reconstructing some of the older pagan festivals and combining them with more recently developed European secular and Catholic traditions, and celebrating May Day as a pagan religious festival.

The Maypole

It’s impossible to think of Mayday without thinking of the Maypole. This is perhaps one of the most popular symbols of the season, representing the Divine Marriage between the Lord and Lady of the Greenwood. The pole represents the male principle, and the ribbons that wrap around it (and the wreath placed atop the pole) are symbolic of the female principle.

The Maypole represents the phallus of the God. The wreath atop represents the vagina of the Goddess. As the Maypole is danced, the ribbons wind around the pole and the wreath lowers, symbolising the Divine Marriage, the sexual union of God and Goddess.

The Maypole Dance

The May Day dance is rich in pagan symbolism. There are usually eight dancers, one for each sabbat of the year, paired into four couples. (Of course, many more may dance. This is only a suggestion.) The dance involves moving in circles and weaving over and under the other dancers. The women take the white ribbons with their right sides to the pole, and the men take the red ribbons with their left sides to the pole.

The weaving of the symbolic birth canal begins with music or chanting as everyone moves forward from where they stand, moving alternately over and under each person coming toward them. (To start, the men begin weaving under the upheld ribbon of the first woman they encounter). Continue the dance until the maypole is wrapped. Tie off the ribbons and let the wreath drop to the ground.

Many folks wear bells when dancing the May dance. Make your steps a cross between a skip and a jog, coming down in time to the music, so that the bells mark off the beats of the music or chant.

May Day Chants

We are the flow and we are the ebb We are the weavers, we are the web

We are the needle, we are the thread We are the witches, back from the dead

Weavers, weavers, We are weaving the web of life. Weave, weave, weave me a rainbow Out of the falling rain. Weave me the hope of a new tomorrow. Fill my cup again

Lady, weave Your circle tight With a web of living light Earth and Air and Fire and Water Bind us to you.

The Pole

The traditional Maypole is a fir tree that has been stripped of all but its uppermost branches (often the trunk of the Yule tree was saved for the Maypole), but traditions vary. Some use oak; others pine. It may range in height from a few feet to as large as you care to make it. (Bear in mind, ribbon will need to be twice as long as the pole.) With unlimited space outdoors, ten feet is a good length. Of course, in a pinch, even a flagpole would do. For those who have restricted space or who have to celebrate indoors, a 3-4 foot dowel inserted in a wooden base and placed upon the altar will work as well.

If you cut a tree for the Maypole, please ask the tree’s permission before cutting and leave an offering at the base. An offering of food, wine, or flowers is entirely appropriate.

The Ribbons

However many ribbons you use, you will need equal numbers of at least two colours, depending on the number of dancers you’ll have. I recommend at least 6-8 dancers. Ribbons for the pole should be twice as long as the pole and about two to three inches wide. Colours vary according to preference. Traditional colours are red for the God and white for the virgin Goddess. Some use colours of the season — hunter green for the forest, gold for the sun, or purple for the colour of grapes and wine. I’ve even heard of people using a rainbow of colours to represent the signs of the zodiac. Some traditions request that dancers bring a ribbon in a colour representing a certain blessing they might wish for.

The ribbons can be tied just below the topmost branches of the tree or adhered to the top of the pole with thumbtacks, nails, or glue. In Dancing with the Sun, Yasmine Galenorn recommends making crosscuts on the top end of the pole, tying knots on the end of each ribbon, and threading the ribbons through the slits at the top of the pole. The knots will keep the ribbon from sliding out of the slits as it is woven around the pole.

The Wreath

The wreath should be made on Beltane morning. It is traditional to go to the fields to gather May flowers at this time. Fashion a wreath from greenery and decorate with the first blooms of the season. It must be somewhat bigger than the top of the maypole, taking into account any branches you left at the top, in order that it may fall down the pole as the ribbons are wound.

Consecrate the Maypole

Erection of the Maypole should be carried out with great fanfare. Once the tree has been selected, cut down, and the branches removed, it might be carried in processional to the dance site. Next, a hole must be dug. Pour an offering of water with a pinch of salt or a purifying herb like rosemary into the opening with words like:

Earth Mother, may this offering Prepare you to receive This symbol of your consort, our Lord.

Next, anoint the Maypole itself, using altar oil or a mixture of any of the following: myrrh, musk, and/or sweet woodruff. With the oil, make the sign of the solar cross, or the Rune inguz, a rune related to the annual “king’s circuit,” or walking of the land, to ensure the fertility of the land:

At each anointing, say:

Blessed be this tree, Vehicle of our Lord Which shall soon enter Our Mother, the Earth.

When the Maypole has been erected and decorated, light the balefire and celebrate!

Historical May Day Celebrations

The earliest known May celebrations appeared with the Floralia, festival of Flora, the Roman goddess of flowers, held on 27 April during the Roman Republic era, and the Maiouma or Maiuma, a festival celebrating Dionysus and Aphrodite on an unknown date in May every three years. The Floralia opened with theatrical performances. In the Floralia, Ovid says that hares and goats were released as part of the festivities. Persius writes that crowds were pelted with vetches, beans, and lupins. A ritual called the Florifertum was performed on either April 27 or May 3, during which a bundle of wheat ears was carried into a shrine, though it is not clear if this devotion was made to Flora or Ceres. Floralia concluded with competitive events and spectacles, and a sacrifice to Flora.

According to the 6th century chronicles of John Malalas, the Maiouma was a “nocturnal dramatic festival, held every three years and known as Orgies, that is, the Mysteries of Dionysus and Aphrodite” and that it was “known as the Maioumas because it is celebrated in the month of May-Artemisios”. During this time, enough money was set aside by the government for torches, lights, and other expenses to cover a thirty-day festival of “all-night revels.” The Maiouma was celebrated with splendorous banquets and offerings. Its reputation for licentiousness caused it to be suppressed during the reign of Emperor Constantine, though a less debauched version of it was briefly restored during the reigns of Arcadius and Honorius, only to be suppressed again during the same period.

A later May festival celebrated in Germanic countries, Walpurgis Night, commemorates the official canonisation of Saint Walpurga on May 1st, 870. In Gaelic culture, the evening of April 30th was the celebration of Beltane (which translates to “lucky fire”), the start of the summer season. First attested in 900 AD, the celebration mainly focused on the symbolic use of fire to bless cattle and other livestock as they were moved to summer pastures. This custom continued into the early 19th century, during which time cattle would be made to jump over fires to protect their milk from being stolen by fairies. People would also leap over the fires for luck.

May Day was abolished and its celebration banned by Puritan parliaments during the Interregnum, but reinstated with the restoration of Charles II in 1660. 1 May 1707, was the day the Act of Union came into effect, joining England and Scotland to form the Kingdom of Great Britain.

Queen Guinevere’s Maying, by John Collier

For thus it chanced one morn when all the court, Green-suited, but with plumes that mocked the may, Had been, their wont, a-maying and returned, That Modred still in green, all ear and eye, Climbed to the high top of the garden-wall To spy some secret scandal if he might,

Since the 18th century, many Roman Catholics have observed May – and May Day – with various May devotions to the Blessed Virgin Mary. In works of art, school skits, and so forth, Mary’s head will often be adorned with flowers in a May crowning. 1 May is also one of two feast days of the Catholic patron saint of workers St Joseph the Worker, a carpenter, husband to Mother Mary, and surrogate father of Jesus. Replacing another feast to St. Joseph, this date was chosen by Pope Pius XII in 1955 as a counterpoint to the communist International Workers Day celebrations on May Day.

In the late 19th century, May Day was chosen as the date for International Workers’ Day by the Socialists and Communists of the Second International to commemorate the Haymarket affair in Chicago. International Workers’ Day can also be referred to as “May Day”, but it is a different celebration from the traditional May Day.

May Day Celebrations Around The World

England

Traditional English May Day rites and celebrations include crowning a May Queen and celebrations involving a maypole, around which dancers often circle with ribbons. Historically, Morris dancing has been linked to May Day celebrations. The earliest records of maypole celebrations date to the 14th century, and by the 15th century the maypole tradition was well established in southern Britain.

In Oxford, it is a centuries-old tradition for May Morning revellers to gather below the Great Tower of Magdalen College at 6 am to listen to the college choir sing traditional madrigals as a conclusion to the previous night’s celebrations. Since the 1980s some people then jump off Magdalen Bridge into the River Cherwell. For some years, the bridge has been closed on 1 May to prevent people from jumping, as the water under the bridge is only 2 feet (61 cm) deep and jumping from the bridge has resulted in serious injury in the past. There are still people who climb the barriers and leap into the water, causing themselves injury.

In Durham, students of the University of Durham gather on Prebend’s Bridge to see the sunrise and enjoy festivities, folk music, dancing, madrigal singing and a barbecue breakfast. This is an emerging Durham tradition, with patchy observance since 2001.

Whitstable, Kent, hosts a good example of more traditional May Day festivities, where the Jack in the Green festival was revived in 1976 and continues to lead an annual procession of Morris dancers through the town on the May bank holiday.

A separate revival occurred in Hastings in 1983 and has become a major event in the town calendar. A traditional sweeps festival is performed over the May bank holiday in Rochester, Kent, where the Jack in the Green is woken at dawn on 1 May by Morris dancers.

At 7:15 p.m. on 1 May each year, the Kettle Bridge Clogs Morris dancing side dance across Barming Bridge (otherwise known as the Kettle Bridge), which spans the River Medway near Maidstone, to mark the official start of their Morris dancing season.

Also known as Ashtoria Day in northern parts of rural Cumbria. A celebration of unity and female bonding. Although not very well known, it is often cause for huge celebration.

Padstow in Cornwall holds its annual Obby-Oss (Hobby Horse) day of festivities. This is believed to be one of the oldest fertility rites in the UK; revellers dance with the Oss through the streets of the town and even through the private gardens of the citizens, accompanied by accordion players and followers dressed in white with red or blue sashes who sing the traditional “May Day” song. The whole town is decorated with springtime greenery, and every year thousands of onlookers attend. Prior to the 19th-century, distinctive May Day celebrations were widespread throughout west Cornwall, and are being revived in St. Ives and Penzance.

Kingsand, Cawsand and Millbrook in Cornwall celebrate Flower Boat Ritual on the May Day bank holiday. A model of the ship The Black Prince is covered in flowers and is taken in procession from the Quay at Millbrook to the beach at Cawsand where it is cast adrift. The houses in the villages are decorated with flowers and people traditionally wear red and white clothes. There are further celebrations in Cawsand Square with Morris dancing and May pole dancing.

Scotland

May Day has been celebrated in Scotland for centuries. It was previously closely associated with the Beltane festival. Reference to this earlier celebration is found in poem ‘Peblis to the Play’, contained in the Maitland Manuscripts of fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Scots poetry:

At Beltane, quhen ilk bodie bownis To Peblis to the Play, To heir the singin and the soundis; The solace, suth to say, Be firth and forrest furth they found Thay graythis tham full gay; God wait that wald they do that stound, For it was their feist day, Thay said, […]

The poem describes the celebration in the town of Peebles in the Scottish Borders, which continues to stage a parade and pageant each year, including the annual ‘Common Riding’, which takes place in many towns throughout the Borders. As well as the crowning of a Beltane Queen each year, it is custom to sing ‘The Beltane Song’.

In Edinburgh, the Beltane Fire Festival is held on the evening of May eve and into the early hours of May Day on the city’s Calton Hill. An older Edinburgh tradition has it that young women who climb Arthur’s Seat and wash their faces in the morning dew will have lifelong beauty. At the University of St Andrews, some of the students gather on the beach late on April 30 and run into the North Sea at sunrise on May Day, occasionally naked. This is accompanied by torchlight processions and much elated celebration.

Wales

In Wales the first day of May is known as Calan Mai or Calan Haf, and parallels the festival of Beltane and other May Day traditions in Europe.

Traditions would start the night before (Nos Galan Haf) with bonfires, and is considered a Ysbrydnos or spirit night when people would gather hawthorn and flowers to decorate their houses, celebrating new growth and fertility. While on May Day celebrations would include summer dancing and May carols other times referred to as “singing under the wall”, May Day was also a time for officially opening a village green.

Finland

In Finland, Walpurgis night (Vappu) (“Vappen”) is one of the four biggest holidays along with Christmas Eve, New Year’s Eve, and Midsummer. Walpurgis witnesses the biggest carnival-style festival held in Finland’s cities and towns. The celebrations, which begin on the evening of 30 April and continue on 1 May, typically centre on the consumption of sima, sparkling wine and other alcoholic beverages.

Student traditions, particularly those of engineering students, are one of the main characteristics of Vappu. Since the end of the 19th century, this traditional upper-class feast has been appropriated by university students. Many university-preparatory high school alumni wear the black and white student cap and many higher education students wear student coveralls. One tradition is to drink sima, a home-made low-alcohol mead, along with freshly cooked funnel cakes.

France

On 1 May 1561, King Charles IX of France received a lily of the valley as a lucky charm. He decided to offer a lily of the valley each year to the ladies of the court. At the beginning of the 20th century, it became custom to give a sprig of lily of the valley, a symbol of springtime, on 1 May. The government permits individuals and workers’ organisations to sell them tax-free on that single day. Nowadays, people may present loved ones either with bunches of lily of the valley or dog rose flowers.

Germany

In rural regions of Germany, especially the Harz Mountains, Walpurgisnacht celebrations of pagan origin are traditionally held on the night before May Day, including bonfires and the wrapping of a Maibaum (maypole). Young people use this opportunity to party, while the day itself is used by many families to get some fresh air. Motto: “Tanz in den Mai” (“Dance into May”).

In the Rhineland, 1 May is also celebrated by the delivery of a maypole, a tree covered in streamers to the house of a girl the night before. The tree is typically from a love interest, though a tree wrapped only in white streamers is a sign of dislike. Women usually place roses or rice in the form of a heart at the house of their beloved one. It is common to stick the heart to a window or place it in front of the doormat. In leap years, it is the responsibility of the women to place the maypole. All the action is usually done secretly and it is an individual’s choice whether to give a hint of their identity or stay anonymous.

Ireland

May Day has been celebrated in Ireland since pagan times as the feast of Beltane (Bealtaine) and in latter times as Mary’s day. Traditionally, bonfires were lit to mark the coming of summer and to grant luck to people and livestock. Officially Irish May Day holiday is the first Monday in May. Old traditions such as bonfires are no longer widely observed, though the practice still persists in some places across the country.

Italy

In Italy it is called Calendimaggio or cantar maggio a seasonal feast held to celebrate the arrival of spring. The event takes its name from the period in which it takes place, that is, the beginning of May, from the Latin calenda maia. The Calendimaggio is a tradition still alive today in many regions of Italy as an allegory of the return to life and rebirth. This magical-propitiatory ritual is often performed during an almsgiving in which, in exchange for gifts (traditionally eggs, wine, food or sweets), the Maggi (or maggerini) sing auspicious verses to the inhabitants of the houses they visit.

Throughout the Italian peninsula these Il Maggio couplets are very diverse—most are love songs with a strong romantic theme, that young people sang to celebrate the arrival of spring. Symbols of spring revival are the trees (alder, golden rain) and flowers (violets, roses), mentioned in the verses of the songs, and with which the maggerini adorn themselves. In particular the plant alder, which grows along the rivers, is considered the symbol of life and that’s why it is often present in the ritual.

Calendimaggio can be historically noted in Tuscany as a mythical character who had a predominant role and met many of the attributes of the god Belenus. In Lucania, the Maggi have a clear auspicious character of pagan origin. In Syracuse, Sicily, the Albero della Cuccagna (cf. “Greasy pole”) is held during the month of May, a feast celebrated to commemorate the victory over the Athenians led by Nicias. However, Angelo de Gubernatis, in his work Mythology of Plants, believes that without doubt the festival was previous to that of said victory.

It is a celebration that dates back to ancient peoples, and is very integrated with the rhythms of nature, such as the Celts (celebrating Beltane), Etruscans and Ligures, in which the arrival of summer was of great importance.

Greece

Maios (Latin Maius), the month of May, took its name from the goddess Maia (Gr Μαία, the nurse), a Greek and Roman goddess of fertility. The day of Maios (Modern Greek Πρωτομαγιά) celebrates the final victory of the summer against winter as the victory of life against death. The celebration is similar to an ancient ritual associated with another minor demi-god Adonis which also celebrated the revival of nature.

There is today some conflation with yet another tradition, the revival or marriage of Dionysus (the Greek God of theatre and wine-making). This event, however, was celebrated in ancient times not in May but in association with the Anthesteria, a festival held in February and dedicated to the goddess of agriculture Demeter and her daughter Persephone. Persephone emerged every year at the end of Winter from the Underworld. The Anthesteria was a festival of souls, plants and flowers, and Persephone’s coming to earth from Hades marked the rebirth of nature, a common theme in all these traditions.

What remains of the customs today, echoes these traditions of antiquity. A common, until recently, May Day custom involved the annual revival of a youth called Adonis, or alternatively of Dionysus, or of Maios (in Modern Greek Μαγιόπουλο, the Son of Maia). In a simple theatrical ritual, the significance of which has long been forgotten, a chorus of young girls sang a song over a youth lying on the ground, representing Adonis, Dionysus or Maios. At the end of the song, the youth rose up and a flower wreath was placed on his head.

The most common aspect of modern May Day celebrations is the preparation of a flower wreath from wild flowers, although as a result of urbanisation there is an increasing trend to buy wreaths from flower shops. The flowers are placed on the wreath against a background of green leaves and the wreath is hung either on the entrance to the family house/apartment or on a balcony. It remains there until midsummer night.

On that night, the flower wreaths are set alight in bonfires known as St John’s fires. Youths leap over the flames consuming the flower wreaths. This custom has also practically disappeared, like the theatrical revival of Adonis/Dionysus/Maios, as a result of rising urban traffic and with no alternative public grounds in most Greek city neighbourhoods, not to mention potential conflicts with demonstrating workers.

Bulgaria

On May Day, Bulgarians celebrate Irminden (or Yeremiya, Eremiya, Irima, Zamski den). The holiday is associated with snakes and lizards and rituals are made in order to protect people from them. The name of the holiday comes from the prophet Jeremiah, but its origins are most probably pagan.

It is said that on the days of the Holy Forty or Annunciation snakes come out of their burrows, and on Irminden their king comes out. Old people believe that those working in the fields on this day will be bitten by a snake in summer.

In western Bulgaria people light fires, jump over them and make noises to scare snakes. Another custom is to prepare “podnici” (special clay pots made for baking bread).

This day is especially observed by pregnant women so that their offspring do not catch “yeremiya” — an illness due to evil powers.

Romania

On May Day, the Romanians celebrate the arminden (or armindeni), the beginning of summer, symbolically tied with the protection of crops and farm animals. The name comes from Slavonic Jeremiinŭ dĭnĭ, meaning prophet Jeremiah’s day, but the celebration rites and habits of this day are apotropaic and pagan (possibly originating in the cult of the god Pan).

The day is also called ziua pelinului (“mugwort day”) or ziua bețivilor (“drunkards’ day”) and it is celebrated to ensure good wine in autumn and, for people and farm animals alike, good health and protection from the elements of nature (storms, hail, illness, pests). People would have parties in natural surroundings, with lăutari (fiddlers) for those who could afford it. Then it is customary to roast and eat lamb, along with new mutton cheese, and to drink mugwort-flavoured wine, or just red wine, to refresh the blood and get protection from diseases. On the way back, the men wear lilac or mugwort flowers on their hats.

Other rites include, in some areas of the country, people washing their faces with the morning dew (for good health) and adorning the gates for good luck and abundance with green branches or with birch saplings (for the houses with maiden girls). The entries to the animals’ shelters are also adorned with green branches. All branches are left in place until the wheat harvest when they are used in the fire which will bake the first bread from the new wheat.

On May Day eve, country women do not work in the field as well as in the house to avoid devastating storms and hail coming down on the village.

Arminden is also ziua boilor (oxen day) and thus the animals are not to be used for work, or else they could die or their owners could get ill.

It is said that the weather is always good on May Day to allow people to celebrate.

Portugal

“Maias” is a superstition throughout Portugal, with special focus on the northern territories and rarely elsewhere. It may also be referred to by other names, including Dia das Bruxas (Witches’ day), O Burro (the Donkey, referring to an evil spirit) or the last of April, as the local traditions preserved to this day occur on that evening only.

People put the yellow flowers of Portuguese brooms, the bushes are known as giestas. The flowers of the bush are known as Maias, which are placed on doors or gates and every doorway of houses, windows, granaries, currently also cars, which the populace collect on the evening of the 30th of April when the Portuguese brooms are blooming, to defend those places from bad spirits, witches and the evil eye. The placement of the May flower or bush in the doorway must be done before midnight.

These festivities are a continuum of the “Os Maios” of Galiza. In ancient times, this was done while playing traditional night-music. In some places, children were dressed in these flowers and went from place to place begging for money or bread. On the 1st of May, people also used to sing “Cantigas de Maio”, traditional songs related to this day and the whole month of May.

Serbia

“Prvomajski uranak” (Reveille on May 1st) is a folk tradition and feast that consists of the fact that on May 1, people go in the nature or even leave the day before and spend the night with a camp fire. Most of the time, a dish is cooked in a kettle or in a barbecue. Among Serbs this holiday is widespread. Almost every town in Serbia has its own traditional first-of-may excursion sites, and most often these are green areas outside the city.

Poland

In Poland, there is a state holiday on 1 May. It is currently celebrated without a specific connotation, and as such it is May Day. However, due to historical connotations, most of the celebrations are focused around Labour Day festivities. It is customary for labour activists and left-wing political parties to organise parades in cities and towns across Poland on this day. The holiday is also commonly referred to as “Labour Day” (“Święto Pracy”).

Czech Republic

In Czech Republic, May Day is traditionally considered as a holiday of love and May as a month of love. The celebrations of spring are held on April 30th when a maypole (“májka” in Czech) is lifted—a tradition possibly connected to Beltane, since bonfires are also lit on that day. The event is similar to German Walpurgisnacht. It’s public holiday on April 30th. On May 31st, the maypole is taken down in an event called Maypole Felling.

On 1 May, couples in love are kissing under a blooming tree. A cherry, an apple or a birch is most often considered a suitable tree.

United States

May Day was also celebrated by some early European settlers of the American continent. In some parts of the United States, May baskets are made. These are small baskets usually filled with flowers or treats and left at someone’s doorstep. The giver rings the bell and runs away.

Hawaii

In Hawaii, May Day is also known as Lei Day, and it is normally set aside as a day to celebrate island culture in general and the culture of the Native Hawaiians in particular. Invented by poet and local newspaper columnist Don Blanding, the first Lei Day was celebrated on 1 May 1927 in Honolulu. Leonard “Red” and Ruth Hawk composed “May Day Is Lei Day in Hawai’i,” the traditional holiday song.

Sources:

Wikipedia

Dancing with the Sun by Yasmine Galenorn

The Sabbats by Edain McCoy

Ancient Ways by Pauline Campanelli

Earth Witchery

Almanac.com

shirleytwofeathers.com/The_Blog/pagancalendar/category/may-holidays/page/2/

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