#but its NOTHING. that was like 1 roman candle

[justareallyboredfangirl]

ayo for a neighborhood that will shoot off fireworks for literally aaaannnything there’s not even been crickets tonight. it’s been DEAD silent. this is crazy actually.

[petermorwood]

Recent article on NPR about the history of artificial light somewhat frustrated me -- they portrayed all of pre-kerosene history as dark and heinously expensive at all times. Thing is, the writers based their findings solely on tallow candles, & ignored oil lamps, beeswax candles, clever use of refraction & outdoor light including moon/starlight... Also seemed to ignore the ubiquity of hearths / cook fires. Was wondering if you'd be willing to talk about non-tallow light? This isn't to ignore that truly, artificial lighting WAS much more difficult & expensive for much of human history, but acting like tallow candles were the ONLY light source seems very silly! (Plus your other lovely post about bottles of water used to make those candles more efficient via refraction & focus)

I'm betting the article you mean is this one - which refers back to this one.

For matching reference, my own posts about period lighting are here, One and Two, including observations about painting walls white, how to light candles and lamps without matches, and several other matters.

*****

It didn't take too much listening before I got tetchy, because the first half of this podcast seems more about mocking how WEIRD and PRIMITIVE old-time people were, than passing on any useful information.

Despite the presence of Jane Brox (author of "Brilliant: The Evolution of Artificial Light") whale oil only gets touched on in passing, and olive oil isn't mentioned at all.

Instead she starts talking about using oily seabirds (stormy petrels) as "candles", despite this scholarly study concluding that it was something talked about far more than done, besides being so very, very localised that its relevance to the history of lighting is very, very small.

But hey, WEIRD and PRIMITIVE, right?

*****

By contrast, making candles was so commonplace that it was another of those jobs which created surnames. Fletcher once put feathers on arrows, Cooper made barrels, Fisher, Miller, Baker and Farmer are obvious, and Chandler used to make candles.

Lampier, of course, made lamps, which helped keep those naked candle-flames away from anywhere they shouldn't touch. The man on the left is making the lantern bodies, the one on the right is shaving sheets of horn as windows.

It's cheaper than glass, less easily broken yet is translucent enough, when shaved properly thin, to give quite adequate light.

*****

The podcast has a digression about measuring the light output of a reproduction Ancient Babylonian lamp. Here's an original and a repro.

Yet that too says nothing about what fuel the lamp is or should be burning - olive oil, traded all over the Mediterranean by ancient olive-growing cultures.

These are Roman oil-lamps, from simple and cheap to elaborate and costly.

As for beeswax, so far as the podcast is concerned might as well not exist, despite being a by-product of honey, which was THE principal pre-sugar sweetener for centuries when not being made into all that mead whose existence, production and quaffing nobody questions.

Oh yeah, and then there was the amazed discovery (2:40 / 1:25, depending on which you're listening to) that melted beef fat "...smells really nasty, like, ANIMAL nasty,"

Why is this guy surprised? It's part of an animal!

*****

It's the same sort of infotainment ignorance as displayed by this TikTok twit, right up to complaining about the effort involved in preparation of anything because not having powered appliances was so labour-intensive, oh woe. Yes, it was, welcome to any historical period before about 1920. That's where "the daily grind" originates.

However the implication (listen, it's there) that cattle were raised just to provide fat for candles is ludicrous. The fat was a by-product, not a main one, and was often a butcher's side-line, while members of the Chandlers' Guild only worked with superior beeswax.

I don't think you could make candles like these with tallow:

...and you definitely couldn't make one meant to be hand-held.

Picture evidence shows, by their clothing, the class of society who bought these, and tallow-greasy fingers would have been a no-no.

A Chandler didn't make individual candles. By the time that fresh batch is hung up, the first batch away down at the end is cool enough to be dipped again.

A chandler's shop in a medieval city would look very similar, and often had a horizontal wheel on which to hang each batch of candles, rotating them up and around to cool, then back to the dipping pot. Non-modern people may not have had modern tech or time-and-motion studies, but they weren't stupid.

*****

By contrast, the podcast's disparaging attitude of WEIRD and PRIMITIVE is emphasised by what seems a deliberate avoidance of anything which counters it (examples of that in my own posts) and finally at 11.24 / 9:50 came this:

"Even when you get all the way to the 1700s (...) most people are still subsistence farmers, living in some kind of hut, trying to grow enough food not to starve to death (...) and light? Light still comes from finding stuff that's lying around and just lighting it on fire."

Some kind of hut...

Stuff that's lying around...

After making such a declaration, I'm surprised - since they'd been implying it for half the podcast - someone didn't just go ahead and announce that "there's some lovely filth down here..."

That's when I stopped listening.

Enough is enough, and I'd had it.

*****

ETA:

cc: @asmuchasidliketo :->

Here's a photo of what purports to be a Petrel (not petrol, that's something else) Candle, held in the Pitt-Rivers Museum, Oxford. It's mentioned in that scholarly article I linked above.

Just as "one swallow doesn't make a summer", so one - and only one - known example of this, which may have been a fake-up to spoof the Southerners, doesn't prove it was a common or even rare practice.

There's another reason to take this with a big pinch of salt, so maybe Jane Brox was on a low-sodium diet when she wrote her book.

Creatures with a layer of fat or blubber for insulation all have it like any other form of insulation, on the outside, where it does some good. A wick passed through the inside couldn't draw on it for fuel since there's a layer of muscle and another of internal organs for the oil to get through first.

The cropped-off bottle just visible to the left is a far more likely way seabirds became lamp fuel: by rendering out their oil. This oil is from the Northern Fulmar, Fulmaris glaciaris (or glacialis, I've seen both. Same bird regardless).

Incidentally, the Wikipedia article on European Storm Petrel mentions a supernatural connection, that the petrels were the souls of drowned sailors, and killing them is unlucky.

Not just killing them but making them into candles sounds like A Bad Idea, and is yet another reason why, IMO, the candle thing may be a folktale, or a deliberate leg-pull, or...

Let's just say "improbable" and leave it there. :-P

[angelicsjn]

What are the guys ideal first dates?

YOUR FIVE YANDERES

— ROMAN CORNELIUS JAMES BEAUREGARD.

Roman is a man of taste, fine taste at that!

In a general and sweet relationship, the ideal relationship he will take you around the world as he races, kissing you in front of the crowds and cameras after he wins and then taking you out on the night life.

Monaco nights on yachts drinking champagne, Paris nights in pretty restaurants, Italy walks while eating ice cream and holdings hands, ignoring the cameras.

Roman would take you to events, fashion, and sporting events. Taking you to golf when he gets offered to play for charity. His dates usually revolve around his work. He's so busy and rarely finds free time, so he makes sure to include you in as much as he can.

During the winter breaks, you go skiing and snowboarding with him, living in expensive cabins for a few weeks. Away from the world where you both can be yourselves.

In the Summer, you experience all the great things the hotter countries have to offer. Visiting all the historical places in Greece, going on hikes and falling asleep during mindnumbing professional massages.

He lives expensively, and he wants to share all these moments with you.

As for the first date? A fancy meal made by a private chef on one of his yachts in Monaco. Candles, sunsets, nice music, perfect meal. He even knew your favourite meal, how sweet.

— LATEN REED.

Laten is a lot more lowkey than our Formula 1 star. He's a university student who spends most of his time in the gym, training and playing rugby, so when he gets a break from studying and rugby, he takes advantage of it.

He loves simple dates: cinema, arcade, fast food restaurants, walks around the town, and the nature reserves nearby.

For his ego, he likes gym dates. You don't even have to join in, give him compliments and boost his confidence.

His most favourite type of dates is ordered food, shitty movies while in bed with you. Facemasks, he lets you do his nails and eyebrows too, likes to relax and gives you small kisses as you pamper each other. Cuddles with you and traces his fingers across your back as you sleep and he feels so happy you feel comfortable enough to sleep by him. <3

Laten is a gigantic sweetheart and loves nothing more than to spend time with you. Anywhere is a good date for him. Even if it's at McDonald's, if it's with you, he likes it.

As for the first date? You watch him at one of his matches. Instead of him celebrating with his team, he whisks you away to his favourite restaurant, its small and tucked away in the town, a hidden gem. He pays for everything, you dance to the music together and he walks you home, both giggly from the drinks.

— JAE 'NIKO' LEE.

Due to being a famous idol, he has to be discreet. Wearing masks, caps, and oversized hoodies. To you, he's Jae. To the world, he's Niko, and he doesn't want to mix those two identities.

Jae likes late night dates. Late night drives around the city, stopping at drive thrus, eating food as he drives, and then watching the sky from the hills where it's quiet.

Karaoke dates where he rents the room out for as long as he can so you both can privately spend time together, dancing, eating, singing and enjoying your time together.

In the summer, you drive out as far as possible, in nature with a picnic where it's sunny and bright and without risk of being caught. He takes advantage of the countryside during the summer, knowing it'll be only you both where he doesn't have to be anyone but himself.

When he gets days off, he stays in bed, forcing you to stay in bed with him as long as possible, cuddling you and pressing kisses against your shoulders. Following you around the place like a lost puppy because if he's got a day off, he will be glued by your side. No matter what.

As for the first date? He picks you up and takes you out to a private restaurant where he buys a separate room to have your privacy. He then drives around with you, doing some sightseeing since he's rarely able to go out at all unless with security.

— KAIDAN ALEXANDER WOLFE.

He's a showoff, anywhere the cameras will be. Influencer interviews on the sidewalks where he holds your hand extra tight. Even if you're shy, he'll show you off, "Yeah, we're on a date." Kaidan is nonchalant about it, but he shows you off as much as he can.

Photobooth pictures he posts on his story, clubs and bars where he holds onto your waist and uses the crowds as an excuse to hold onto you, Italian restaurants where he kisses your knuckles gently, sharing kisses that taste of wine.

Kaidan takes you to his events, dressing you up, matching you with his fit, and making sure the headlines will state how you're the best-looking couple.

Takes you to big family dinners, holding your hand under the table and showing off any and all of your accomplishments. Slow dancing with you as his family secretly plan your wedding, because they've never seen Kaidan so in love before.

As for the first date? He takes you out to an event, something he knew you'd like. Even though it's the first date, and you weren't officially dating, he allows photos to be spread around with the title: 'Kaidan Wolfe's New Relationship?' Hard to say no to him when the world said yes.

— HAYDEN WEST.

The sweetest of them all, in my opinion.

He makes lists based on what you like. All his dates are things he knew you'd like.

Do you like art? He knows a few great museums. Books? There's this amazing bookstore nearby. He's been there before and loved it. Walks in nature? He loves nature, too. He can take photos while out! Clubs and bars? Not his thing, but if you like it, so does he!

He does everything in your favour, sort of let's you decide.

But if he had full control, he'd pick simple bookstore dates and cafe dates, especially cat cafes. Museums, historical and artistic, anywhere you could possibly both learn something. He's a nerd at heart and definitely pulls you out to see all the new Marvel and DC movies.

As for the first date? Definitely a picnic by the local river, he buys non-alcoholic wine, all your favourite foods and snacks, he knows them all. Even if you never actually told him that..

[blairstales]

Historical Scottish Christmas/Yule Basics

Scotland actually has a relatively short history with Christmas as we would typically think of it compared to other places, namely because it was illegal to celebrate it for a long time.

“Before the Reformation in 1560, Christmas in Scotland had been a religious feasting day. Then, with the powerful Kirk frowning upon anything related to Roman Catholicism, the Scottish Parliament passed a law in 1640 that made celebrating ‘Yule vacations’ illegal.” National Trust For Scotland

Christmas did not become a public holiday in Scotland until 1958. That does not mean that nothing was celebrated prior to that, but if or if not the laws were enforced depended on where you lived.

Many farming communities kept up traditions for a long time even though it was illegal, while other communities moved many of them to Hogmanay.

One thing you will notice while reading historical traditions in Scotland is that instead of Christmas, many people called it “Yule.” The word Yule (which has several alternative spellings) and many of the customs for it were brought over to Scotland by the Norse. Even after the church had firmly settled into Scotland, calling it “Yule” continued for much of Scottish history.

“Every time they are mentioned [in the church-records] it is in connection with some superstitious observances at Yuletide. On one occasion we find John Stewart, Andrew Robertson, and various others, charged with being “ down on the linkcs ” at Yule and charged ” not to do the like again.” One could wish that the Minute had been fuller on such an occasion. “Examples of Printed Folk-lore Concerning Fife: With Some Notes on Clackmannan and Kinross-shires by John Ewart Simpkins (1914)

It is perhaps no surprise that many of the traditions are thought to come from the origins of Yule. For example, Yule logs were very popular; which, by the way, is an actual log, not a dessert. However, wood was expensive and not always easy to get, leading to many people replaced the log with a candle.

In England the Yule log was often supplemented or replaced by a great candle. At Ripon in the eighteenth century the chandlers sent their customers large candles on Christmas Eve, and the coopers, logs of wood. 11-26 Hampson, writing in 1841, says:—

“In some places candles are made of a particular kind, because the candle that is lighted on Christmas Day must be so large as to burn from the time of its ignition to the close of the day, otherwise it will portend evil to the family for the ensuing year.” Credited to w11-26 Hampson, writing in 1841. In the book Christmas in Ritual and Tradition, by Clement A. Miles, [1912]

Yule was not the only other word used in Scotland, either. There was also Nollaig. This word described the celebrations lasting from around Christmas to new year.

There was also:

Oidhche nam bannagan (the night of Cakes) Christmas Eve

Latha Nollaig mhór (the day of big Nollaig): Christmas Day

Oidhche nan Calluinnean (the night of blows): New Years Eve

Latha Nollaig bhig (the day of little Nollaig): New Years Day

As well as the Nordic yule influence, the Roman festival of Saturnella is also thought to have had an influence on the bringing in of evergreen boughs (garland). For Saturnella, Priests obliged people to bring in boughs and springs of evergreens. 

Then, of course, there is the influence of more local paganism, such as for mistletoe. In fact, mistletoe was once thought of as such a pagan thing, that it was not welcome everywhere. Despite that, it became a common decoration.

 Brand ( Popular Antiquities 1819 , vol . 1 . p . 523 ) thinks that mistletoe was never put in churches among ever greens but by mistake or ignorance ; for , says he , it was the heathenish , or profane plant , as having been of such distinction in the pagan rites of druidism , and it had its place therefore assigned it in kitchens , where it was hung in great state British Popular Customs, Present and Past; Illustrating the Social and Domestic by T. F. Thistelton Dyer

Christmas, Yule, Latha Nollaig mhór, or whatever else it may be called, was a big celebration that pretty well stretched from then, to Hogmanay. 

Since it was such a big event, people did everything they could to finish their work before Yule, and they would try to not take new work in the span between the two celebrations. 

Today, most people do call it Christmas, and celebrate it in a way that would me more similar to other countries.

Note: all citations are on my website post here.

[silverslipstream]

Five Red Lights

The sun seems to crack the Adelaide Street Circuit right open, until the ground is nothing but a blur of heat-hazed tarmac, lurid sponsor decals and the endless blue-white dome of an Australian summer sky. It's thirty-four degrees in the shade. Yet, somehow, this searing heat can't hold a candle to the frisson of excitement that seems to set the very breeze alight. Confetti drifts from the grandstands; the sound of horns circles almost lazily over the baying crowds.

On the grid, the final preparations are underway. The cars glisten and shimmer, each one surrounded by crews of engineers and technicians. Scantily-glad 'grid girls' stand in front of the cars, cheering and waving to the crowds. Each one carries a placard with their respective driver's name, nationality and starting position emblazoned on it.

As the countdown to lights out continues, the team personnel scramble off the tarmac, leaving only the drivers and their machines. Twenty-six of the finest racing drivers on the planet, bodies and minds honed to the perfection of a singular purpose. It takes a special kind of person to be able to strap themselves into an F1 car without fear. You have to be almost insane in your self-belief, yet fighter pilot-like in your calculations, your mentality.

Most of all, you can't think about it for a second. Nobody in their right mind would strap themselves to a 200-mile-per-hour carbon-fibre tub and battle twenty-five other cars, inches from death every second of every minute.

It's a Roman gladiatorial battle in technicolour, and Adelaide is its Colosseum.

The excitement reaches a fever pitch. A brilliant scarlet light blinks on, the first of five. By now, every car's engine is screaming at 14,000 rpm, a crescendo of noise and heat and flame eighteen thousand horsepower in the making.

A second light blinks on. Gloves tighten around steering wheels and pistons pump fiercely, unburnt fuel hissing and popping in a rush of flame.

Third light. The commentators' excited chatter has given way to bated breath. Even the team radio sets are silent. Every synapse of the drivers' brains is focused on those lights, waiting for all five to glow - then extinguish.

Fourth light. The hairs on the ends of 120,000 spectators, and millions watching around the globe stand on end in anticipation. Sixteen races, fifteen countries, love, hatred, speed, glory: it all comes down to this.

Fifth light. On the grid, off the grid: every heart under the Adelaide sun beats as one.

Then the lights are are out, and with a shrill roar, the cars launch off the line, hurtling towards Turn 1. It's a race that will break hearts, pop champagne corks and decide destinies.

[pwblogarchive]

February 2008

February 3, 2008

“Try lying for a change, it's the currency of the world.”

its oddly haunting the way that sometimes entries from a year ago can reflect perfectly how i feel today.

its like an echo sent out over the weeks and months and pages of the calendar.

not always but sometimes.

a few weeks ago i considered mentioning the fact that while i once wrote "every new years is worse than the last" i didnt feel that way anymore

oh eight had broken the january curse

now im glad i didnt

cuz i realized it might not have

it may have just pushed it back a month

or extended it, depending on how this all looks on play-back

i find it a bit odd to be waiting for retrospect

Posted by xoat 10:41 PM

February 12, 2008

“honestly, afraid. i cant ever sleep either.”

Put the the planets in swing

Make jupiter sing

The afternoon light

Ignites

The back of my head

Spend years trying to cloud our head and not feel a thing

Just to turn around and erase the clouds so we can remember everything

Throw handcuffs on that boy

When the check comes he never pays

His cheekbones carve my moods

He shakes like a leaf

He's clicking like an old answering machine

He howls at the moon

He's breathes wet thru insect eyes

Canyon lights at night chase away the boring days

And I don't worry about death because I've seen the date I'm gonna die and its so far away.

Posted by xoat 1:55 AM

February 16, 2008

“part two (i forget so much of what i write its beginning to scare me).”

hes a lonely planet

dont stir and wake

everythings ok

give or take

the cats got the canary spinning in its ribcage

did i mention i came dressed for the intervention

(and if you were dying soon would you try to find snow in the deep summer

the june bugs dancing in wonder

and i still wonder now

if my words will stil turn you inside out)

hes a honeyjar

with that pretty face, lets never lose the lid

and keep those rosey lips in

(he breathes wet through insect eyes)

in multiples of four, no less than sixteen

sandmans been showing his beam

when he walks into a room the walls lean in to listen

keep a calendar this way youll know the last time you came through

oh.

"i know what youre going through"

well i dont- its more of a "paper or plastic" grocery store choice to me

but ill sympathize with anything to get through to you

do you know what its like to watch reruns of yourself night after night

to offer nothing and expect everything in return

to cock your head just right to appear arrogantly humble

if we hurry well make the morning edition

cos everybody likes to read the bad news

theyve tapped the phone be very careful what you say

speak in code about singing birds and sleepy eyed women

his heads a junkyard for rusted midnight thoughts

hes criminally carefree

when the pills swallow the worry

hes digging like forty nine

hes making you press rewind

hes a thunderstorm so bright you shut your eyes

he is a hurricane

Posted by xoat 3:15 AM

February 18, 2008

“mc hammer and miss piggy bank”

i get bright ideas in dark rooms

red rooster combs on our head

we are galaxies

a catipillar that got stuck

mr moth come quick with any luck

long walk in a dark house

a roman candle heart

keep us far apart

tour is just thinking you have been in every hotel, club or truck stop before.

it is deja vu personified.

all full of love so much that my teeth are floating.

February 19, 2008

“the oxidation of Joan of Arc.”

the mind drinks less and less.

impatience.

highways full of crowds going somewhere, somewhere, somewhere, nowhere.

The gasoline refugee.

Towns turn into motels,

people in nomadic surges from place to place,

following the moon tides,

living tonight in the room where you slept this noon and I the night before.

Posted by xoat 12:31 AM

[akashasananda]

Daily Rituals for a More Connected and Spiritual Life by TwinRay

With the guidance of TwinRay, rituals can be an effective way of creating mindfulness spirituality or adding structure to daily life. From morning meditation sessions and regular yoga classes to exercise plans - rituals provide powerful support.  

The difference between routines and rituals lies in their intentional significance and joy-bringing potential.

1. Wake Up Early

An intentional morning routine can help you remain grounded before embarking on your busy day and set intentions that guide your actions throughout it.

Some individuals add meditation or breathing practices into their rituals, which can help increase mindfulness, improve your mood, and reduce stress levels.

As part of your spiritual morning routine, include affirmations that resonate with you and your personal growth goals.

Some people make time each night to write in their journals; it can help set goals, plan the next steps, or contemplate nature's beauty. Tarot readers might enjoy using this time for quick three-card readings, too! For an inexpensive printable nighttime journal complete with a brain dump page and prompts, visit Etsy here.

2. Take a Bath

Not only can taking a bath relax after a long day, but studies have also proven its emotional benefits. Immersive bathing, such as that offered at Japanese "onsen" or Roman bathhouse, can improve mood by raising core body temperature and activating the parasympathetic nervous system to calm you.

TwinRay highlight that establishing a ritual around your daily bath can help set the right atmosphere to relax. Try lighting some candles, playing soft music, or treating yourself to an extra-special bubble bath experience to add something special.

TwinRay recommends adding mindfulness into your daily self-check routine - something as simple as showering can benefit immensely from doing so. By being present in each moment as it passes under you, mindfulness helps us become aware of every droplet as water runs down onto us from each tap or faucet.

3. Make a Cup of Tea

Daily rituals can provide invaluable support regardless of your goal - mindfulness, connection, or spiritual growth. Finding an authentic spiritual practice that fits seamlessly into daily routine is essential.

There's nothing quite as soothing and comforting as sipping on a cup of tea, whether alone or shared with others. Add an extra spiritual element with an exquisite tea set or cozy to keep the beverage hot! Akasha Sananda

Just a few basic foods and an easy daily ritual will connect to whatever higher power (or spiritual force) you believe in and begin living an intentionally spiritual lifestyle. Reconnect with yourself and reconnect to the magic that lies within - we are here for every step of your journey!

4. Listen to Music

Rituals are integral parts of spiritual life. From daily household tasks like housecleaning to full moon ceremonies or crystal meditation sessions, rituals provide meaningful experiences with spiritual significance that help us discover and connect to our deeper purpose. Rituals may range from cleaning the house every weekday morning to full moon ceremonies or crystal meditation on full moon nights.

Passive listening involves playing music as background noise while engaging in another activity - for instance, shopping at the grocery store or doing your dishes. This form of passive listening can provide motivation, focus, and enjoyment all at the same time.

Listening to familiar songs can also increase productivity by activating reward centers in the brain. Familiar songs also foster strong emotional responses and connections with them that strengthen productivity levels. Shekinha Ma

5. Go for a Walk

Daily rituals are an integral part of many religions around the world. Although they don't need to be elaborate, simple daily rituals can help build better lifestyle habits, set positive intentions, and, more generally, discover deeper purposes within yourself and your life.

Even taking a casual walk through nature can help reconnect and restore spirituality. According to research, spending time in nature has been linked with improved health outcomes such as reduced anxiety and depression levels, improved memory retention and creativity, and an increased sense of purpose and purposefulness.

Create a habit of walking simultaneously each day - or at least try! Walking with someone will increase motivation and offer different sights each time - plus, it helps develop mindfulness and gratitude! Walking can also help develop mindfulness and gratitude!

6. Make a List of Things to Do

According to TwinRay, establishing daily rituals can help you feel more grounded and connected while allowing you to tap into your inner voice and receive guidance.

Existing rituals you engage in regularly, such as getting up early, drinking tea, or practicing mindfulness, could become spiritual rituals by adding greater intention and meaning to each routine.

While making tea or brushing your teeth, appreciate all its details - be present for each process and notice every little thing! Or, when brushing, take time to be thankful for simple things such as clean and healthy teeth!

Being grateful is a simple yet profound spiritual practice that you can incorporate into your daily routine to feel more connected and spiritually fulfilled. Give it a try now!

7. Read a Book

Reading for pleasure can be an indispensable spiritual practice. Not only is it an enjoyable way to escape daily stressors and gain knowledge about different cultures and events, but it can also serve as an important way of exploring history.

Reading can help provide answers to some of life's greatest mysteries. Reading forces us to consider things from different angles and adopt methods of thought that may reshape or reinforce our identities.

Reading can be an effortless spiritual practice to incorporate into your everyday routine, making it one of the easiest spiritual rituals. Not only is it portable and can be done almost anywhere - even while waiting for friends or colleagues at meetings - who knows who may inspire you? We've selected our top books for fostering an immersive lifestyle! Here are our favorites.

8. Make a Date

Create intimacy and connection. Little rituals like leaving notes under coffee mugs for each other or writing "I love you" on fogged-up mirrors in bathrooms are great ways to show our partners we care and show just how special their love truly is.

Participating in daily rituals can make a profound, impactful statement about both your physical health and spiritual well-being. By adopting habits that improve your well-being, you can feel more connected to the world and become happier and healthier quickly. The good news is, these changes don't need to come all at once - the key is finding what works for you individually; often, small changes are more effective than grander ones!

9. Eat a Healthy Meal

Integrating healthy daily rituals into your lifestyle can help create healthier habits and promote mindfulness in daily living, which can increase happiness and well-being.

Healthy daily rituals don't need to be complicated. One great way to improve mental well-being is taking a morning stroll or breathing deeply before beginning each new day.

Sleep is essential to nurturing both body and mind. If you have difficulty sleeping, turn bedtime into a relaxing ritual - maybe light some candles and sip on some chamomile tea before going to sleep - this can help promote better quality restful slumber while improving your mood and relieving anxiety.

10. Take a Bath

Immersion bathing (instead of shower bathing) increases core body temperature and resets circadian rhythms, thus stimulating serotonin production - an essential feel-good chemical for good mental health.

Bathing can also help ease muscle tension after an exhausting day at work or home, allowing you to unwind from stress-inducing work or home worries and practice mindfulness. This approach involves tuning into physical experiences to observe how they make you feel. TwinRay suggests this practice as a great opportunity to hone this skill of awareness of one's surroundings in the present moment and experience their effects on us emotionally.

Starting your day right might seem intimidating, but that is the beauty of rituals - you can make them as complex or simple as necessary to meet your individual needs. What matters is doing something small yet meaningful each morning to put yourself on a positive path toward wellness.

[acemapleeh]

The Sparrow’s Song

Summary: Written for Day 1 of Hetalia History Week.

They say that when a person dies, their soul reincarnates into a bird. That was for people though. They were something other so what became of them when their time was to come? Memories and song, a story told of long ago and nothing more.

Characters: Britannia, Hibernia, British Isle Siblings

Word Count: 2336

Day 1 (21.02): B.C. – 500 // Memories

“I ask, once more, which bird sang when you found the second child?”

“No, none of that, keep your voice down. I’m not going to have you read a prophecy for another child and frighten him for his entire existence.”

“My dear Brit, I don’t understand your lack of concern. It’s a blessing the Romans have left but where did it leave us all? Not long after, kingdoms emerge in your west and a child was found wandering among them calling itself Cymru. I asked you about the clouds and crows and you gave me your answer then.” The man paused, pinching the bridge of his nose that was shadowed by the hood of his cloak. “Now these Anglo-Saxons have come to settle in your lands and this new child appears and you show absolutely no qualms?” 

The woman sighed. He had always been hard to talk to but recent years have made it even harder. The hallowed cheeks and harsh lines on his face were still unsettling. Hibernia had recovered from his Dark Age of starvation and poor harvests but he would never truly recover. He would never admit out loud the Romans were partially to thank for his home’s recovery, mainly because it was also Rome’s fault to begin with. Other things at work were slowly killing them all. They were all healing slower now. She knew she should be more concerned but what was the point? These four children were here and nothing was to be done or changed. Death was always certain no matter how long the three of them had lived and what injuries they recovered from in the past. They rose from Death, frightening their people into thinking them Gods or worse. She didn’t think the same could be done again; the next time she would meet with Death it will surely be the last time.

The three-wick candle that cast her stone house in strange shadows only hosted two flames.

Caledonia was never returning.

All that was left of him was his own son who looked so much like him. He was asleep alongside his siblings on the other side of the room, curled together to be warm in the early winter night. They were good children, strong ones that she knew would last for a long time. 

Hibernia had been concerned for some time, normally, he was the one with the calmest head. When his reliable was no longer that, he changed. Unable to talk to the trees and his magic growing weaker by the day, the reality of a time reaching its end was settling in. His most trusted companion, a beautiful elk that existed no more on his island, no longer understood him and had lost its immortality. Hibernia had mourned for days after it was lost. 

He had his own daughter who was growing up.

His home was changing.

Just as hers was, and just as his had.

It was hard not to notice the mistletoe he wore at his breast was slowly browning at the edges. A funny thing he always wore despite the plant not being native to his land but one that was always there for as long as she remembered.

“I’m not worried and neither should you. We’ve been here to witness what was needed to be seen. Now they are here to see the world turn. The circle starts again as they say.”

He rubbed at his tired eyes, leaning back in his seat and further away from the only source of light. Britannia knew that he agreed with her words. Maybe it was her long while spent away in Rome that tired her more, that made her feel detached from home and for her to be alright with this change. She had done all she could and now she could only hope to teach these children how to carry on once she was truly gone. She reached across the table to place her hand on top of his and she was relieved he didn’t pull away.

“I don’t want you to go how he did.”

Silent understanding in the form of a gentle squeeze.

“You loved him, same as I.”

The wind was strong enough to make the door rattle but it hadn’t stirred the children quite yet.

“I dreamt of a tower crumbling, water rising as I ran up the steps. Higher and higher yet I still felt I was only going in an endless spiral. I leaped from a window to find myself riding a white horse, riding on top of the waves till I was at Tech Duinn, simply on top of the rock, waiting. I saw you on a grey horse, riding without a care and I shouted for you to stay away. You kept coming but I woke in a cold sweat just as you stepped on the rock.”

She could feel how clammy his hand was as he finally held hers in a tight grip.

“I heard a sparrow sing,” Britannia whispered after a long moment of silence.

“You’re lying. You said that for the other child and it was a lie then as well.”

“Does it fucking matter? I’m trying my best here to make you feel better.”

“Feel better?” He snatched his hand away, nearly knocking over the forgotten cup of mead. “Tell the crazy hermit she heard a sparrow so that he feels comforted in knowing this child will hold our memories and knowledge when he was created from fucking barbaric Germans. What is he going to know?”

“Oh, just like Cal lied to you about seeing a crane? Did you feel comforted by his lie?”

“He lied about how many he saw- a crucial mistake on my end. He saw three flying together and where is he now? Dead. But no, tell Hibernia you saw one and tell me a message from the Gods. All will be well with this child, he’ll have great wisdom and power. No, he lets his guardian perish!”

“Enough! I’ve long had ravens at my side and you have never mistrusted me for it. How do you even know Caledonia lied to you? Why does it even matter to you? It won’t change anything because we’ll both be gone soon! It doesn’t matter how much I loved him, how much I love you, or my sons.” She could feel her eyes burning and she stared intently at the two lonely flames, averting her gaze from Hibernia to prevent him from seeing a single tear. “You can take shapes from the clouds, stare at ripples of water, and watch a wren take flight after singing its morning call. It’ll all tell you the same thing because you know deep down what’s to come.” Her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“I don’t want you to go as he did. He spoke of his death so calmly, wanting to walk out into the moors just north of his favorite woodland.”

Britannia nodded solemnly, remembering her own late-night conversations of how beautiful the loch looked at sunset and again at sunrise. They awoke in each other’s arms to the unique song of crossbills. They could have passed happily together right there and then. 

“He wasn’t so lucky but that doesn’t mean his death was a bad one.”

Hibernia stood abruptly. “He should have had the chance to but this child of his couldn’t protect him. How are we to trust ours will let us walk into our lands and go back to the Earth where our spirit will guide us? We can’t. What is to become of us, our homes?” His voice had raised above a whisper, nearly to a shout in the still, little house. “We’ll both be gone soon indeed. Perhaps people were right in thinking of him as the God Lugh. Shot by an arrow. A bloody red chest like the setting red sun.”

Her eyes narrowed as she spat her next words. “Like your happy little sparrow.”

“The red breast is of a robin! A sparrow is what killed him though perhaps it was a raven!”

It was her turn to rise from her seat. “If you are even daring to suggest what I think you are!”

Cries rang out and both their heads turned to the pile of children who were all trying desperately to shush the wails of the youngest one. The elder two look like they had been up for a while, their still soft faces trying to look mature and that the shouts hadn’t bothered them but in the glow of the candle, she could see the stains of tears on their cheeks.

Britannia was on her feet, leaving her companion in the dark shadows. The anger was gone, replaced with the guilt of waking a wee babe over a petty argument. She knelt and gathered him in his arms, her little Albion. Cymru had tears in his own eyes, trying so hard to look as grown as his siblings by holding them back. She apologized with kisses. “Hey, let’s go outside for a minute together. Step away from the bad dreams. Hibernia,” she looked back to him as she bundled Albion in a blanket. “Take care of Alba and Érie. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Britannia held the crying child in her arms, rocking him gently as she paced the circumference of her home, Cymru following in suit with his small hand clutching at her cloak. She hushed and cooed, placing soft kisses on Albion’s red, wet cheeks. The night air was crisp and the wind had cleared the clouds of the day. When the sobbing began to quiet, she sat in the grass with the two children curled comfortably against her chest.

She wished so much for Cal to be there with her and she gazed longingly up at the skies as an owl called into the night.

“Look up there my little rabbits,” she said after a moment, still bouncing the smallest one to ease the last of his cries. “Can you see all the stars shining in the sky?”

The sniffling had ceased and wide eyes peaked out from under the swaddle. 

“Just there, that collection of stars right above the oak tree.” She tried to summon whatever spirit it was that let Caledonia tell stories the way he did. “That is the mighty hero Llew Llaw Gyffes. He was a fine warrior and magician. One day, he was killed by his treacherous wife and her lover but, at the moment of his death, his soul turned into an eagle. He was then called Gwalchmai, the hawk of May. He flew up to the Heavens and became the constellation I point to you now. His uncle missed him dearly so he went to find him in the skies and sang to him to get him to come down, bringing him back to life. Llew Llaw defeated his wife’s lover with a throw of his great spear and turned his wife into an owl for her betrayal. Now, he sits on the throne of Gwynedd,” she kissed Cymru’s cheek warmly at the mention of his home. “This story tells us many things that may be frightening but are important to remember when we miss the ones closest to us. Death can be scary to think about. Losing someone is hard even if you never met them. This is something you will feel for a long time to come.” 

“And you?” Cymru whispered, face half buried in wool. “Will you go too? Could we bring you back from the stars?”

“No, my son. We all go when our times come and when it does for me, the only thing you children can do is remember. Remember how Alba does for his father, how Érie will do for hers, and you two will do for me.” She knew Albion was still too young, the likelihood of him having a face to connect to her memory was slim. He hadn’t even met Caledonia but he still cried because he knew others were sad around him. Britannia gave another kiss to his crown.

“Remember all the songs we sing together, all the places we hold dear to our hearts, how we smelled, how our laughter sounds, and the stories we share. They’re so very important to hold onto. When there’s nothing left, remember all the happiness that was shared together.” She let out a heavy breath and turned both her son’s faces to look into her luminous green eyes. “For once we disappear, you’ll be all that is left of us. This is your home now. I will hold your hands for as long as I can, my children, because I love you both so much.” She wiped at the last of their tears and smiled. “It’s very late. Let’s all go to sleep together alright?”

Carefully, she hoisted the pair in her arms as she stood, taking in one more deep breath of fresh winter air. She shouldn’t worry them any longer, they would have the rest of their existence to carry grief once she was truly gone.

The sound of a harp being strum was the first sound she heard upon opening the door, a low voice singing hesitantly alongside the notes. A song of a voice that would carry through the centuries, one who lived in nature and all one must do is simply listen. It was one of Cal’s songs that Hibernia was trying so hard to sing the same way he would have at the fireside. 

It had worked enough for the two older children to fall back asleep.

Britannia laid her own beside them once more, sitting up in the bed of hay and fleece for their heads to be in her lap. She joined in his song, brushing their hair until their breaths were steady and slow. 

The two sang even though they were the only ones awake now, exchanging a look that said maybe, just maybe, the world will remember us.

[maybedefinitely404]

For You Became My Lighthouse (Part 2)

Genre: hurt/comfort

Pairing: romantic Prinxiety

Content: argument, crying, a decent dose of awkward but it gets resolved!

Word count: 4.1k

Comment: This is the fourth time I’ve tried to post this--- Part 1 HERE!

Roman, is everything alright?

-Logan

Roman ran a hand through his hair at the message, checking the time at the top of the screen. It was late, far too late, so it was safe to assume that Logan had heard about the spat from Virgil. He should have been home by now. It was just… impossible to convince himself to actually leave the rehearsal studio. He had a younger acting class tomorrow and was perfecting his lesson plan- even though he already knew it was perfect, and his director had already approved it. Just, anything to keep him from going home.

He’d been a dick. Such was obvious; from the second his finger had hit send, he regretted approximately everything in his life that had led to this moment. That day had been particularly bad, overrun with rehearsals he was either taking part in or directing, and gearing up for tech week of a large production. Who knew trying to block a scene with a flurry of pre-teens could take so much out of you? Rinse and repeat the cycle with two more classes to teach back to back and an achingly long dance rehearsal, add in a desperate and fruitless search for a replacement lead in his upcoming directorial debut, and you’d have what Roman would categorize as a “shit show of a day”. 

All he wanted to do at the end of it was spend some time with his boyfriend, without having to talk about his day, so he’d suggested the most basic date his fried brain could conjur. Then his work desk was unceremoniously reacquainted with his forehead as he smacked it into the wood, letting out a groan that bordered on a yell. Luckily, minutes ago everyone had abandoned the theatre, and he’d been trusted with the keys to lock up from a stagehand. He just had a couple more things to do, and then he could drive home. 

Getting a reply of denial from Virgil was nothing new. In fact, he’d been warned in the transition from reluctant acquaintanceship to inevitable friendship, that he tended to veto ideas if they were sudden, or too daunting, or if he was just feeling shitty. It was something that Roman never considered a deal breaker, and he’d slowly come to much rather enjoy a night of cuddling and watching television than going out anyways. Call it ‘getting old’, call it ‘Virgil’s homebody ways creeping into his psyche’. So usually, getting his plans rejected was no big deal. 

Except for today, when he was well and past his limit of frustration, and things not going to plan. He’d typed out and sent the snarky reply far before he’d thought it out whatsoever, and ranted out complaints that hadn’t ever crossed his mind before, which he immediately regretted. In a moment of shame so great it caused physical nausea, he tossed his phone into one of his desk drawers and slammed it shut. 

It buzzed once, twice, and then went silent. 

Until, of course, it began to go berserk an indecipherable amount of time later, and Roman couldn’t ignore it. Seeing Logan’s text, along with about a million missed calls from him and Patton, broke the fragile sense of calm he’d tried to achieve while working. 

He didn’t want to go home and face his consequences. Childish, yes. Well deserved, also yes, but he was afraid of Virgil’s inevitable anger. If this led to a breakup, a fight that wasn’t recoverable, he’d never forgive himself. 

And now…

Roman, is everything alright?

-Logan

I can see you’ve read my text message.

-Logan

I’m at work. 

You’re inconceivably moronic. Get home. Now.

-Logan

Roman sighed heavily through his nose, clenching his jaw. He began typing out another snarky response- because apparently he never learned- when another text came through.

Virgil was in significant distress last I spoke to him and he has stopped answering me and Patton. Go. Home.

-Logan

Please. If not for my sake, then for Virgil’s.

-Logan

Fuck.

Roman barely had the sense to lock the doors of the building in his rush, throwing the spare key back in through the mail slot and booking it to his car. He sent some sort of confirmation that he was going and tossed the phone to his back seat. Virgil hated when he used it while driving.

It was only on the drive back, on unusually empty roads, did he realize it was well past nine. He hadn’t even noticed the time passing by.

Most of the lights in the apartment complex were still on when he pulled into the car park, but their window visible on this side showed only darkness. He wasn’t used to entering a dark apartment.

Their flat was silent, the living room only illuminated by the oven clock and the dim city lights from the balcony. He toed off his shoes as silently as he could, wincing when he kicked their shoe rack, and decided he’d risk turning on the light. When he finally found the switch and flicked it on, he couldn’t help his gasp. 

The room had once been a pristine display, he could tell. A white table cloth adorned their usually bare dining room table and a half burned candle stood as its centrepiece. He approached it in a daze, cautiously resting a hand on the plate of ravioli nearest to him. Cold. Long cold; the pasta was starting to get crusty. 

He picked up the two plates, intent on throwing out the food. It definitely wasn’t safe to eat anymore, and he didn’t feel like warding off an attack of ants in the morning. One of the towels hanging off the oven handle was drenched in what looked like marinara sauce, and it looked like there was some more spilled in the crack between the stove and the counter. That would be fun to clean. 

Both hands full, he opened the cupboard containing the garbage bin with a socked foot, and promptly froze. 

Part of him cringed at the clang the dropped plates made on the counter, but the louder part of him was just repeating a mantra of ‘holy shit, holy shit, holy shit’ and it was considerably out-screaming the other. Hands now shaking, Roman picked up the small box from the sink edge, ignoring the dried, crunchy texture of more tomato sauce on the outside, and opened it. 

It took every ounce of strength for Roman not to collapse to his knees, guilt instantly crushing the air from his lungs, a thousand times heavier than it had been before. An elaborate dinner, a ring… there had been a plan. That’s why Virgil had rejected his offer to go out. 

And he’d been such a dick to him. 

Speaking of which, where was he?

Roman closed the box and set it back where it had been. Their bedroom door was slightly ajar, and the most obvious place Virgil would be, so he padded over and creaked it open just a bit more. The light from the hallway cast a beam onto the bed, illuminating first a mess of hastily thrown clothes; his button up shirt he only used for fancy occasions on top of the pile. 

Virgil’s huddled form was easy to make out, curled away from the door, his only movement being the steady rise and fall of the blanket as he breathed. Figaro lifted his head from where he was settled in the crook of Virgil’s knees and gave Roman an indifferent mrow. 

He couldn’t get into bed with him. There was no scenario where that was the right move. It wasn’t the right time to talk about what had happened, not so late and when they were both riding high on emotions and tiredness, so accidentally waking Virgil was not the way to go. And even if he was sneaky enough to not wake him… a part of him just felt it was wrong. Not when he didn’t know Virgil’s stance on him at the moment.

Or his stance on the relationship.

Well, couch it was. He acknowledged the crumpled weighted blanket and sound blocking headphones- clear aftermath of a bad panic attack- with a quiet curse. Somehow that pit in his stomach got even bigger, making him nauseous as his shame took a physical form. 

He could only pray that they would come back from this. 

Roman’s sleep was fitful, to say the least. At best, he drifted into a state of half-consciousness, where his thoughts could be somewhat quieted down, but the discomfort of the couch and the heavy weight in his heart were still palpable. Inevitably, one of their neighbors would make a noise or the building would make a settling creak or a distant dog would bark, and the state would be broken, leaving Roman wide awake and wracked with guilt once more. He’d never noticed how loud the world was until he wanted nothing more than for the noise to stop. 

The sun was just peaking into the window when their bedroom door widened and Roman flew up, using the back of the couch to steady his sudden sitting position. When their eyes met from across the room, Virgil in his pajamas and face hidden in shadow, a tenseness settled over the room that neither had experienced in their relationship thus far. Virgil froze in the doorway, wavering slightly. It didn’t appear he wanted to be the one to break the silence. 

Roman stood slowly, as though not to spook him.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Virgil whispered with a sniff, and even in that one word Roman could hear the scratchiness of his voice. “I just...uhm,” He cleared his throat, “I just wanted to get some water. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was already awake. No… no worries.” 

Virgil looked down to his feet. “When did you come back?”

“I think just before ten.”

“‘Kay.”

For an all too long moment, both of them seemed to find interest in every part of the room that wasn’t the other’s eyes. It wasn’t until Roman looked towards the kitchen in his awkwardness did he process what Virgil had come out for. 

“I’ll, um…” He pointed weakly to the kitchen and finally convinced his feet to move, filling up a glass from the sink while making a conscious effort to not look at the dishes or wasted food from the evening before. Unfortunately, he couldn’t stop the way his gaze drifted towards the box sitting next to the tap, and judging by Virgil’s sharp inhale, the look hadn’t been subtle. 

He took the glass back to the other, watching him take it with an uncomfortable, “Thanks.”

Virgil downed the glass in one go, his shaking hands almost causing him to spill. He barely had time to take a breath before Roman had zipped the empty glass back onto the counter.

“Do you want more?” He asked, already refilling the glass.

“No, I’m… it’s okay.” 

Roman placed the full glass on the counter quietly and the two were swallowed by heavy silence once again. The clock ticked impossibly loud as they stood, fidgeting, wanting this moment to be over but not wanting to be the one to start it. 

Virgil took a shuddering breath and wrung his hands together.

Roman stared resolutely at a single water drop making its way down the glass.

This was his fault. He’d started it. It seemed only right that he break the tension that almost suffocated him, so even as his mind screamed for him to shut up and every muscle in his body turned to liquid, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Virgil, I-”

“I’m sorry.”

That effectively stopped Roman in his tracks. All night, he’d crafted a collection of apologies, from eloquent monologues to stumbling pleas for forgiveness, but in not one of his countless scenarios had Virgil apologized. 

“I know… I know I can be a lot to handle, I know, I swear. And I was more outgoing when we first met, because I thought I had something to prove and it always exhausted me and I hated it but then we became… I don’t know, official? And closer and… and more comfortable and I didn’t think I had to do that anymore, I didn’t have to keep pushing myself so far!”

“V, stop-”

“The panic attacks and the anxiety and all that shit are a lot for other people and I know that but I didn’t know it was too much for you, I didn’t know you were tired of that and I can be better, I swear, I swear I can go back to how I was in the beginning, just please don’t leave.”

Virgil let out a choked sob and Roman couldn’t stop himself from rushing forward, intent on holding his stupid, stupid boyfriend until he realized this was in no way his fault, only for Virgil to back up before he could do so.

“I’m- I’m not trying to guilt you, I’m sorry, I just, I love you, and I can be better, I can, just give me a chance, please-”

“Virgil, baby, come here.”

This time when he reached forward, Virgil allowed himself to be pulled into his boyfriend’s chest, basically collapsing against him as soon as Roman’s arms tightened around him. The dam broke moments later and Virgil finally let go of his own hands to grab the back of Roman’s shirt with a sense of urgency.

“Please don’t leave, I’m so sorry,” he begged raspily into Roman’s shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” 

Roman hung onto him almost as tightly in return, rocking them back and forth, finally allowing himself to cry. He shoved his face into Virgil’s hair, peppering small kisses and apologies to the crown of his head in between sobs. 

Virgil whined when Roman finally pulled away, but he didn’t go far, cradling his boyfriend’s face in his hands and wiping his tacky cheeks with his thumbs.

“Virgil, I cannot apologize enough for yesterday.”

“What are-” he hiccuped, “What are you talking about? It was my fault.”

“No, no, no no no no no,” Roman whispered, fighting that damn lump in his throat once more. “I had a spectacularly shitty day, and I took it out on you. I was leagues out of line. It wasn’t fair to you and I’m so, so unbelievably sorry.” 

As if the strings were cut on a marionette, all the tenseness dissolved from Virgil’s shoulders and he slumped forward, bumping his head weakly into Roman’s chest. “Can we sit down?”

“Yeah, of course.” Roman clumsily led him to the couch and sat on the adjacent cushion, assuming that if Virgil wanted to talk, he’d want his own space. His assumption was incorrect, however, judging by how Virgil crossed the space almost instantly and buried himself in Roman’s side like a koala. He shifted them both until he was laying on his back, Virgil splayed across him .

“I thought you’d be more upset with me,” He muttered, freeing his hand to run it through Virgil’s hair. His fingers raked through his own tears trapped in the locks and he grimaced.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling right now,” responded Virgil, accompanied by a shuddering breath, “I just need to know that you’re really here. And I need you.”

They were quiet for a moment, watching the sun begin to peek through their window, until Virgil spoke again sardonically.

“If this is a dream, I’m gonna be so pissed.”

Roman snorted despite himself and felt Virgil’s responding half-laugh from where he was tucked against him.  

“I agree. I thought I’d fucked up for good this time.”

A disgruntled meow made Roman crane his neck over the couch, watching Figaro stretch languidly in their bedroom doorway. The cat sidled over to his food bowl and sat pointedly next to it. Feed me. 

“Later, Figaro,” Roman groaned, all too comfortable with Virgil as his blanket. A small part of him was worried that if he moved them at all, the spell would be broken, and they’d lose whatever peace they’d settled into. 

Well, that wouldn’t do at all, not by Figaro’s standards. The cat gave an upset mewl and trotted over to the couch, leaping up with grace and batting Virgil’s legs. It was that pettish action that made Roman realize that Virgil had turned stone still on his lap. Figaro changed his approach to headbutting at his arm in a clear attempt to get pets, but Virgil’s hand stayed still by their sides. 

“What’s going through your head?” Roman murmured. 

“That stuff you said, about me… not contributing to the relationship…” Virgil croaked, and Roman stilled,  “What can I do to-… to fix that? Because I wanna fix it.”

“Baby, no,” Roman whispered, that shame-nausea returning, “I-” He groaned, dropping his head onto the arm of the couch behind him, “I was being an asshole. I didn’t mean that.”

Virgil didn’t budge, still deliberately ignoring Figaro’s futile begging for attention. “Then where did it come from?”

He took a breath deep enough that Virgil rose and fell with his chest, and Roman was struck with the profound urge to pull him closer and never let him go. But that would likely make him feel trapped, and that wasn’t productive. “You remember when I dragged you to that improv show my students put on last year?”

“You introduced me as your boyfriend and we found out the class had placed bets on whether you were gay or not. I don’t know how it wasn’t obvious.”

Roman gasped in mock offense. “Maybe they just were trying not to stereotype!”

“Your phone case is a rainbow-”

“Anyways!” He interrupted, resuming his gentle threading through Virgil’s hair, who snorted but otherwise gave in to the affection. “Remember what happened after?”

“Mmhm.”

It had been a fantastic show, and Roman had been exceedingly proud of his little students, especially since it was his first time ever teaching a class. After the night, when the betting chaos had settled and everyone quickly adopted Virgil as theirs now, they’d pleaded to play a few more improv games before the theatre closed. Seeing as it was their last class, hence the performance in the first place, Roman had acquiesced. But neither of the men had expected for the gang of pre-teens to latch onto Virgil and beg him to play too, despite him having zero theatre experience. 

“Remember what they said?”

“They tried to pack all your lectures into five minutes of information.”

“I don’t lecture, I dazzle.” 

“They thought you were straight.” 

“Only some, and that’s not the point!”

Virgil finally lifted his head, pulling his hands up so he could lay his chin on top of them. He smiled weakly. “Then what is the point?”

“The most important rule of improv is to keep the scene going. No matter what nonsense you have to pull out, just never leave a scene flat.”

There was a quiet moment while the other processed that before, once again, that layer of hurt reappeared on his face. He pushed himself off Roman’s chest in preparation to get up. “So… you’re saying you saw that argument as another scene you had to keep up.”

“No, shit, that came out wrong,” Roman insisted, and Virgil paused suspiciously, “I’m saying, that in a moment of panic, I fell back on bullshitting my way through it! That’s literally what I do for a living!” 

The distrust gave way to resignment and Virgil chewed on his cheek, turning his attention to the window. He sat all the way up on Roman’s legs, leaning back on his shins. “How do I know you’re not bullshitting me right now?” He said. 

“Because,” Roman followed him up, careful not to move his legs and dislodge his boyfriend, “You know I like when the bed is made, and even though you hate making it, you always do when I’m out of the house before you.”

Virgil looked down at his thumb.

“Because you let me choose the music in the car.”

“... you don’t like loud music,” He muttered, picking at the skin around his cuticle.

“You adjust your work schedule to come to every single one of my shows.”

He shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yeah, but you hate working mornings. You let me rant about all my theatre stuff, even if you don’t get any of it.”

“I’m learning.” A faint smile was breaking through.

“You tell me when there’s spinach in my teeth, or my hair is messy, or if I’m acting like an asshole.”

“Well, that’s easy enough.”

Roman reciprocated the smile at that, taking Virgil’s hands in his own to stop the attack at his nail. “I’ve been watching you better yourself for years, even if it’s been really, really hard.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Virgil asked with a small blush, switching his fidgeting tactic to fiddling with Roman’s fingers. 

“Every time you do something that betters yourself, you help us, Virgil.” He leaned forward slowly, giving Virgil the time to move away if he wanted to, and rested their foreheads together. “Yesterday, I fucked up. Badly. You said you were anxious and I still acted like a dick. I kinda thought you’d hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” Virgil whispered, seemingly before he had a chance to process it, because his blush multiplied tenfold. Roman grinned. 

“Aw, is someone feeling sappy?”

“Shut up, jackass,” He retorted, bonking their heads together ever so gently. 

“I’m so sorry, Virgil,” Roman said after their giggles and blushes had faded, “It won’t happen again, I swear.” 

In lieu of answering, Virgil closed the already scant distance between their lips, and despite Roman using all of his self control to not sigh into it, he found himself doing so anyways. All the tension bled out of his shoulders at once as Virgil pulled away, pressing one more peck to the tip of his nose, and then leaning back with a small smile. 

“So… that means we’re good?”

“We’re good.”

“Thank god,” Roman groaned, flopping back and dropping his arm over his eyes dramatically. He heard Virgil’s quiet snicker before he resumed his job as a blanket. Except this time, instead of nuzzling his head into Roman’s neck, he could feel the distinct edge of a chin digging into his sternum.

The hand lifted from his eyes to see Virgil staring at him, that goofy little smirk on his face. 

“What?”

“I love you, idiot.”

Well, now they were wearing matching goofy little smirks. 

“I love you too.” 

That seemed to satiate him, because he gave a little nod and laid his head more comfortably on the other’s chest. He could have left the conversation there, content to just let them lay there in peace until the world fell away- or Figaro grew more insistent on being fed- but Roman just couldn’t banish the one persistent thought in the back of his mind. 

“Were you actually going to propose?” He blurted.

Virgil tensed for a moment, and then gave a resigned sigh. “...Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Roman furrowed his eyebrows, desperately hoping he sounded casual, though his heart was pounding far too loudly to not be heard, “I would have said yes. If you did.”

“Oh?” Virgil lifted his head. “You’re blushing, Princey.” He could hear the smug grin.

“Nooo…” Roman whined. His arm draped once more over his eyes in a weak attempt to hide the redness, but he drew it away only moments later when Virgil didn’t retort. 

The man was staring at him with an odd mix of disappointment and amusement, huffing out a breath as he watched Roman’s eyes.

“This wasn’t how I was planning to propose,” He sighed, “It was supposed to be all perfect, and romantic, and stuff. And the surprise is ruined now.”

“I’m sorry,” whispered Roman, continuing before Virgil could cut him off, “If it’s any consolation, I think a proposal in our pajamas, on the couch, would be very us.”

“You’re not in pajamas.”

“I slept in these clothes, they count as pajamas.”

Virgil snickered. Roman counted five breaths as the other’s face melted from a smile to anxiously knit brows, worrying his lip between his teeth as he looked down at him. It took another three for him to speak.

 “So…uh... will you…?”

Roman’s face split into a grin, “Yes, Virgil. Obviously.” 

Virgil’s expression morphed to match his and he swooped down to kiss him again, though they barely could with how much they were smiling. They both devolved into giggles, happy to just stay wrapped in each other’s arms, until Virgil broke away with a gasp.

“Let me grab the ring!”

“Ring can wait,” Roman argued, tightening his grip around his waist to keep him in place, “I want cuddles.”

And so they did.

Taglist:

@max-is-tired

@private-snippers

@joylessnightsky

@marshymoop

@larkiaquail

@noemiescuriosity

@mycatshuman

@cirishere

@vpow

@ray-does-stuff

@sirprplsnail

[wish-i-wasnt-a-coward]

Everything and Nothing

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Pairings: Demus, eventual LAMP

Warnings: cursing, rain, tattoo mention, scars, mention of strangling, 

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It had been around a week since the Princes had taken residence in the small Floridan town. The adults began returning to work seeing as the difficult parts of moving were mostly over. This meant that the twins were left home alone more and more frequently. 

Roman had returned to the shopping district, bringing Remus. Who immediately began plotting their next tattoo. 

Roman’s new friends did spend some days with the twins, often mentioning a third person that she had yet to meet. Remus was his usual chaotic self, harassing Patton to no end, he did, however, manage to win Logan’s begrudging friendship through his constant questions. The two of them had some of the most fantastic conversations about the most random stuff. 

But all good things must come to an end, and in a blink of an eye, the summer was over. Thankfully the four would be going to the same high school, so the melancholy mood was laced with a certain excitement in seeing each other every day, and of course the highly anticipated meeting of Virgil. 

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Remus had had a good week. They had made a friend, which seldom happened due to their ‘unique approach to life’, as his father liked to say. He had spent time with their twin and parents, which often was hard to do. They had even gotten a personal record of breaking their finger for the fourth time. 

But standing at the bus stop, in the pouring rain without an umbrella because your twin liked the aesthetic, was not high on Remus’s to-do list. 

By the time the bus arrived both of them were soaked to the skin. Remus was sure that if you wrung out their shirt you would get at least a gallon of water. The bus driver gave them a sympathetic smile and nodded towards the back of the bus. 

Roman found a seat quickly next to an emo kid, leaving Remus to fend for himself. They frantically scoped the rows of seats before basically throwing themselves into the nearest one. What a great way to start the day. 

The bus lurched forward and began its course again. Remus looked across the row and out the windows at the lashing rain. Plugging in his earbuds he hit play on the new Mother Mother album, Seven playing in their ears he turned back to look at his unfortunate victim. They were looking down at their phones, earbuds in. A yellow hijab blocking their face from Remus’s view. 

Suddenly their heads turned, as though they felt Remus’s eyes on them. Their bright eyes landed on the fidgety boy. The left half of their face had long red streaks going up and down, that eye also had a glassy look. Any sane person would leave the slightly frightening character alone. Fortunately, Remus wasn’t even remotely sane. 

“Halloo, my name’s Remus, he/they,” they said, “I like your hijab, I’m almost certain you have enough fabric to smother someone while still wearing it” The person smiled at him, “You’re right there is enough fabric. I’m Janus, any pronouns, It’s horrible to meet you,” they said with a wink. 

“I’m guessing you're new around here,” Janus said as she shifted to face the gremlin boy. “Yep, I ‘accidentally’ sent a kid to the hospital and got kicked out of my previous school, so me n’ my twin moved here!” They confirmed. 

Janus didn’t even look phased by the confession. “Well you should do nicely, there is plenty of violence for entertainment. You have your schedule, yes?” Remus nodded, pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of their pocket. “K, most of the teachers here are ignorant sluts. You can always rely on Mr. Flores for an interesting class though” they said with a vague gesture ”Ah, Lovely we have chemistry and gym together” Janus grinned, “I’m looking forward to bullying Mr. Sanders with you” With that, the bus pulled into the school and Janus disappeared into the crowds. 

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Virgil was tired, then again he was always tired. Just extra tired today. He woke up to rain coming in through the window, meaning he had to clean up the sill and empty all his fake candles. Of course, there was also school, which Virgil was not looking forward to. He couldn’t find a binder for the longest time, and when he did it was one of the ones he had almost outgrown. 

And then, as if the universe had decided to use him as a personal punching bag, some prick sat next to him during the bus ride. They didn’t say anything, but Virgil’s anxiety had been through the roof the whole time. Though in part, Virgil admitted, it may have been because the stranger looked like a fucking movie star. 

Their black hair was damp and had hung around their perfect jawline. Their skin was a soft copper color that reminded the boy of autumn somehow. They wore sword earrings, a distinctive red and white trench coat, and, when Virgil looked down he saw that their nails were painted a lovely sunset orange. 

The entire bus ride Virgil didn’t breathe in fear of annoying the beautiful person next to him. His sibling would punch him and tell him to ‘man up and talk to the kid’. But he ignored their voices in his head. He was content pining from afar. 

He’d done it before and he’ll do it again.

[beewolfwrites]

And When I am Formulated - Reference List (for those who wanted one)

I know some of you liked the idea of this when I suggested it, so I've collected all the literature references from AWIAF.

I’ve also tried to include some of the reasons why they were used, you know... just in case you were wondering what’s up with the weird chapter titles :) 

-------------------------

Chapter 1 + 6: ‘The diving board’

-   This is from the short story, Forever Overhead, by David Foster Wallace.

-   I recommend reading it, simply because of how strange and alienating it is. However, I don’t recommend it if you’re currently experiencing depression or suicidal thoughts, simply because there’s an undercurrent there.

-   It’s mainly about societal systems and feeling constrained by the pointless processes that make up modern society. I figured the MC felt this way long before she got to the Borderlands.

Chapter 1: ‘John Steinbeck’s characters’.

-   They always play rummy in Of Mice and Men for some reason.

Chapter 4 + 22:  ‘The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase...’, ‘until human voices wake us’, ‘forcing the moment to its crisis.’

-   These are all from The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot.

-   Although I have very, very mixed feelings about Eliot for a number of reasons, this poem pretty much helped summarise the story.

-   Chishiya pretty much had her ‘formulated’ from the very beginning, having already fixed her position in his plans. However, the only thing he didn’t have formulated was his own feelings.

-   Of course, the actual poem is about a proposal, which is why I couldn’t give you this list before :D

Chapter 4: Utopia by Thomas More.

-   I mean, this pretty much explains itself haha. 

Chapter 7 : ‘A Single Green Light’

-   This is from The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

-   Just like the green light on Daisy’s dock is a source of comfort to Gatsby, Kuina and Chishiya become a green light to the MC as they find her comfortable clothes and come to her aid in the militant situation, respectively.

Chapter 8: ‘Mad to Live, Mad to Talk’

-   The Road by Jack Kerouac.

-   This line features in a famous quote that was too long to include as a title: “the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars”.

-   I thought this would represent how frenzied the beach is.

-   Everyone lives each day to the fullest, but it’s transient as they’re killed off every night.

Chapter 10: ‘A Train Whistle’

-   From Concerning the Sound of a Train Whistle in the Night by Haruki Murakami.

-   This is such a beautifully written short story. It’s so simple, yet it explains love so well.

-   The MC pretty much explained this one, but as I’m sure you all know, she ends up becoming the train whistle he needs to cut through the emptiness.

Chapter 11 + the underlined quote: ‘Without a Soul’, ‘I’m tired of being enclosed here...’

-   Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte.

-   Chishiya rejects the idea of being tied to someone, despite his instincts telling him the opposite.

-   It’s an argument of rationality vs imagination both on a ‘souls exist/don’t exist’ scale and ‘I love her/I don’t need her’.

-   It was so, so tempting to have that mystery underlined quote be something romantic, but instead it felt more real to have it be something that reflects how far the MC has come.

Chapter 11: ‘In books, I could go anywhere I wanted. I could be someone else. I wasn’t alone.’

-   This was actually inspired by Matilda, by Roald Dahl.

-   Particularly this line: “So Matilda’s strong young mind continued to grow, nurtured by the voices of all those authors who had sent their books out into the world like ships on the sea. These books gave Matilda a hopeful and comforting message: You are not alone”.

-       That line has always made me cry. 

Chapter 12:  The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka

-   It’s widely believed that Gregor Samsa’s father, who abuses him after he has turned into a cockroach.

-   I figured it could also reflect the MC’s father, as she’s spends the next day after the argument and Niragi’s attack focused on this book and plagued by it.

-   If books are usually her safe space, it has now been contaminated.

Chapter 14: ‘Half-Sick of Shadows’

-   The Lady of Shalott by Alfred Tennyson.

-   For those who haven’t read this beautiful poem yet, the Lady of Shalott is bound to her tower by a curse that will come into action if she ever looks out of the window. So, she uses a mirror to look out instead, but this only makes her unhappy as she watches others’ reaching happiness while she can only experience it through reflections.

-   Like the Lady of Shallot, the MC decides to take her life into her own hands, instead of letting her family hold her back.

Chapter 15: ‘Love and Squalor’

-   To Esme, with Love and Squalor, by J.D. Salinger.

-   In this whole chapter, the MC and Chishiya alternate between love and distrust. They’re somewhere in-between at this point in their relationship.

Chapter 18 + 19: ‘Do Not Go Gentle’

-   As you probably already know, this is Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas.

-   This was included via a request, but it works perfectly for the Borderlands since everyone’s fighting death every single game, and they’re willing to do whatever it takes to survive.

-   It can also refers to their plan, and the idea that Chishiya and Kuina will go to extremes (like setting up Arisu) in order to escape the beach.

Chapter 19: ‘I May Think of You Softly’

-   The Crucible by Arthur Miller.

-   Although The Crucible has nothing in common with this fic, this quote itself summarises the MC’s feelings the best: “I may think of you softly from time to time. But I will cut off my hand before I’ll ever reach for you again”.

-   Even though she can’t stop loving him, she refuses to give in to his influence.

  Chapter 20 + 21: ‘Sound and Fury’

-   Macbeth by Shakespeare.

-   The full quote in Chapter 20 is from the famous “tomorrow and tomorrow” speech.

-   Life is simply excessive noise shouted by an idiot, but ultimately is pointless. The ‘idiot’ can be herself, for loving Chishiya; Niragi, for his relentless pursuit at getting back at Chishiya; or even the players themselves for trying so hard to survive.

-   Long story short, everything seems pointless since they’ll all probably die anyway.

Chapter 21: ‘Tread Softly’

-   From He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven by Yeats.

-   In essence, she’s begging Chishiya to stop wiping his feet all over her dreams, lol.

Chapter 24: ‘And the Rest is Silence’

-   This is from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, and are also Hamlet’s last words.

-   Of course, it refers to death. It’s the last chapter, after all.

-   However, it’s just the death of the first stage, and the next one won’t be so silent :) 

[doomstypewriter]

would u do forbidden love, secret relationship moceit? i was thinking a pseudo-historical au, ideally with homophobia as the motivator for the forbidden/secret part but if u absolutely dont wanna do that janus being an outlaw would also work i suppose. just some whacky bois sneaking through windows to hang out, nearly being caught smooching, funny hijinks, then! sudden melancholy about how in love they are & never being able to show it

Finally, anon, I am done!!!!  I gladly present to you the final chapter, just in time for Valentine's Day (call that timing (once you read the thing you'll get this reference)). 

 Hope you enjoy it, and thank you for giving me the chance to write something this cool! 

<< Chapter 1                                       AO3

We call it an affair because it's a forbidden romance 

Word count: 9376 

 Summary: Janus is dumb. He may be intelligent, but intelligence isn't at odds with poor foresight. So he makes a mistake that can get him killed. Romina is very gay and very angry. Patton is confused but does his best. Virginia is the only one with a functioning brain cell. Or, how a chain of misunderstandings almost ruins everything. 

 TW: Seemingly Unsymphathetic fem!Roman (not really, she is just feeling very hurt and angry and it is all resolved eventually), mild transphobia, mentions of blood, mentions of violence (there is a sword fight), mild misogyny, internalised misogyny, internalised homophobia, homophobia, mild threats of violence (again, the sword fight), swearing... I think that's all, but if you spot anything else tell me. 

Chapter 2: The rest of their lives 

The light raised above the darkness and it was morning again. In two days time, Patton would be meeting the countess, just so he could start properly courting her, not because his father wanted to get a title and land for his son. To suggest such a thing would be ridiculous. Scandalous even!

Reputation ruining…

Janus got up from his cot, unfit for the heavy silks that covered it, some stolen, some gifted by Patton. He looked at the things surrounding him. His house wasn’t so bad. It was in fact bigger than the places inhabited by most peasants, and a palace compared to the things in which people like him had to sleep… the things where he had had to lay in. The house consisted of one room, like most, but the size made up for the lack of divisions. 

This was a cave reimagined as a home. The walls had been lined with timber and thoroughly coated with stucco, the curving grooves of its application were not that noticeable, Janus was not a professional but he had certainly done his best. Aside from the absence of windows, it didn’t resemble a cave. There was a section of rock he had left uncovered at the very back, where water seeped out of the wall and provided him with a steady source of the thing. He would prefer not drinking watered-down stucco. 

He began to get dressed. All of his clothing was stored within a small but beautifully carved cupboard he had stolen from a manor in Bohemia. He had plenty of garments from here and there, five outfits in total! Stolen as well. 

In the house, what he hadn’t crafted himself he had stolen. Perfume bottles from France, boots and gold from the Kingdom of Aragon, a stiletto and a medium-sized silver mirror from the Republic of Venice… he even had two tapestries. 

But, even then, it was nothing compared to Villa Morandi. He surrounded himself with opulence to quench his thirst for wealth, the easy life of those above. His home was an illusion, a taste of richness, in which a poor man could pretend. This was not a place where Patton could live, let alone want to. 

If he was to spread rumours, then what? A plan of keeping Patton to himself would not succeed and his lover’s life would be as good as done. 

After packing his fanciest clothes and putting on the ones he used for travelling, he set to leave. He carried his stiletto, a grappling hook and a sword, all three perfectly hidden under his cape. 

Using a hidden pulley system, Janus moved the boulder that hid the entrance to the cave, returning it to its place afterwards. No one would find his home no matter how long he left.

The path down the slope of the mountain twisted and turned. Janus was in no disposition to waste time, so he went across the forest. Half-lost in the trees lay the cabin of a woodsman’s family. A while ago, Janus had left them a steed along with one florin. The family cared for the horse, not knowing exactly what to do. As the horse appeared and disappeared, bringing them thirty soldi each time, they began to get the gist.  Upon reaching the cabin, he headed for a well-built timber shed where his horse waited, fed and rested. 

He left thirty soldi on a small stool at the corner of the shed, mounted his horse, and galloped away. 

The Regio county manor was two days away by horse. 

Patton left yesterday, as his carriage would take longer to get there, stops and all, than one man on horseback. 

Janus paused at the base of the mountain. With one whistle his hawk surfaced from the sea of trees to land on his forearm-length glove. 

“You are to find Signor Morandi’s and Patton’s carriage. Follow them without drawing attention to yourself, find me and report to me at dusk. If anything urgent were to happen, come to my side immediately”.

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His room at the inn felt quiet despite the muffled sounds from down below, where people chanted and told stories. 

The cool breeze wouldn’t be half-unpleasant if he wasn’t leaning on the ledge of a wide-open window. I also didn’t help that he was in his underwear. Father would certainly scold him for letting himself be seen in his linen undershirt. Some may think he was waiting for some disreputable company. 

It was more hoping than waiting. Also, Janus couldn’t possibly be disreputable. Out of costume, he had no reputation whatsoever. He liked to keep it that way. His real identity had no friend nor foe, in that he found safety. It had been hard to trust each other. Believe a criminal could be good. Let the son of a merchant become a friend, form an opinion of Janus, the original one. A part of him felt so proud, to see him grow, believe him, love him… another part found it sad for people to miss on such a wonderful person. 

Nights like this made him nostalgic. The first floors had tallow candles cast their diffuse glow onto the streets. Cobblestones seemed softened by the warm tint. Darkness rendered malleable to the light. It all made him miss Janus even more. 

The touch of his palm, holding the weight of his lazy head, a poor substitute to Janus’ hand. 

On such a night they had met. How scared he had been! A bit angry too… captivated as well, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself at the time. 

Patton smiled in contemplation. 

He had spotted him right there, sitting out of the adjacent window, ready to jump and make a run for it. 

“Stop! You will get hurt, good sir!” at first he did not realise the true nature of what was happening. 

To think Janus could be harmed by jumping off a window! He knew better now. Balconies were his true weakness. Thankfully, the only balconies he climbed now were his. 

“Oh, I’ll stop at once. Care to join?” Janus said as he pulled a stiletto out of his cape. 

“You are stealing!” 

“I would never!” he feigned indignation.

“Then what is it that you are doing, good sir?”

Oh, Patton could still hear the laugh that had followed, velvety and insincere. It brought a chill up his spine. 

“Stealing, of course”. 

“That is vile!” 

“Is it? You’re all allowed to provide for yourselves by buying fabrics and goods created by others. Am I not doing as you do? Are merchants not thieves? How can you tell a vile man from another? What do you know of this world, dear?” 

“Well… I... I know for certain that the woman in that room, the one you are stealing from, sir, is not wealthy. She may look the part, but that is thanks to heirlooms. Her family has been impoverished for two generations”. 

“Does it make you virtuous to spread the secrets of others? Isn’t gossip frowned upon by those of…” he lifted his gold rosary from under his shirtfront with the tip of his blade “your inclination”. 

“I am merely explaining so you may be persuaded to accept my gold in exchange for returning her possessions”. 

“Why shouldn’t I just take your gold and keep her stuff too?”

“We may be allowed to provide for ourselves in ways others may view as vile, but should we condemn those who cannot on the account of not wanting to express vileness or having no means to? I do not mean to intrude, sir, but the thoughts behind your words betray your stance in this dilemma. You shall find more satisfaction in stealing what you believe was already stolen. A poor woman is not worth your pride, nor ridding you of the chance to make me lose mine”.

Janus frowned as if he didn't expect him to say something like that. Later he would confess to him that what shocked him was hearing him say something smart. It keeps on surprising him whenever he does.

"Quick, hand me your gold and I might consider it". 

"No, sir, I expect you to leave what you have taken first". 

He did try to hide his eagerness. But, how his cape rustled, once inside, betrayed him. What kind of thief was so noisy? He thought to himself. Once they had built trust, Janus explained that he had been quite shaken up by his offering. He neglected to mention the reason why. Patton imagined it was because he found his disposition to put himself in harm’s way for others ridiculous. 

The thief’s half-concealed face emerged from the window. 

"Will three florin do?" Patton asked, pulling his coin bag. 

Janus looked at the rich embroidered fabric almost in awe. If only, for a second. 

“I suppose…” 

“Well, then, there you go, sir”. 

His hands pried the bag open, ready to pull the golden coins. 

“Hmm…” 

“What is the matter?” 

“I could always just go back and get all the stuff”. 

“Is it not enough for you?” he showed him the three pieces of gold in his open palm. 

It was as if he could almost feel him licking his lips. The part of him, dark, often chastised, made him shake and quiver. His knees felt weak, somehow. This hunger in the thief’s eyes, almost akin to wonder, at the sight of gold, as if he had never seen so much before, it made him want to… dear Lord, no!

“To put such a price on mending the error of my ways” he laughed, staring right through him with those green eyes. Patton’s knees threatened to buckle for real.  “It isn’t very much, now, is it?” he leaned forward, and if Patton leaned as well maybe he could… what? Fall from this height for a pretty thief?

“What do you want, then?” 

That had been a first for Janus, Patton was certain. He didn’t quite get his reaction, but, picturing it again some days later he figured the thief was taken aback. 

“Uh… tha-that fancy coin bag of yours will do. Consider me a gentleman, I wouldn’t want to fleece you completely, the first time”. 

“Oh, I’m sure”. 

“Ha”, Janus stared at him in disbelief. 

Patton felt mortified. 

“I-I mean…” 

“Are you always this eloquent or is it just poor skill when it comes to existing?” the sentence did not sound as condescending as it should have, more like borderline flirtatious. 

Words would not come to him. 

“The coin bag, please”. 

His arm moved on his own, careful to avoid touch. It would be a bad idea to give this man a chance to tip him over the ledge. For a moment, he hesitated. This bag had been gifted to him by his father, he had two made for the two of them. It was two of a kind. But… the woman next door’s wellbeing was far more valuable than any piece of fabric. No matter how treasured. 

Janus dangled the bag from his pointer finger, right next to his face. Side-eying his price, he spoke again: 

“Looks like the virtuous are also the most stupid”. 

The thief readied himself to jump. Patton knew he had to say something, because, this moment, it told him he would regret it if he didn’t. 

“It is not about virtue, but goodness”. 

For a moment he thought he had heard him stop breathing. Then, he jumped. Patton jumped in his place as well. He couldn’t help but bring his entire torso out of the window. 

There he was! Running. He had made no noise in his landing. 

Just when he was about to disappear into the shadows, this weird new acquaintance looked at him one last time. 

Back then, Janus vanished for a while. Patton had come to learn that he would always return one way or another. 

Like now. 

A shadow moved, carefully, on the roof tiles at the other side of the street. Patton whistled, trying not to be too loud, not that anyone below would hear him. Knowing it had been spotted, the shadow flew to his side. 

“Hello, big guy”. 

After a rustle of feathers, the hawk landed at his left. 

“Why the grumpy face?” Patton laughed. “I know it’s just your brow feathers.  You’re so handsome” he caressed the top of the bird’s head with one finger. 

“He sent you all the way here. You must be tired. I don’t have any food for you here, but I’m sure I can get you something to drink”. 

Patton poured some water into a basin and carried it to the window, he placed it on the floor. 

“There, it’s supposed to be used to wash your face… I guess you can do that too if you want”.  

The hawk flew inside and drank it all dry. 

“You ought to tell Janus”, he began saying as he bent his knees, “to stop worrying so much. I am okay. I know he is concerned, but it will all be fine. Also, when you get home, ask him when is he going to let me visit, I’d love to go”.

-------------------------

The carriage clattered over the stone pathway. Inside, the curtains were drawn, but a pang of curiosity made it so Patton moved them, ever-so-slightly, aside to take a discrete look. 

Big was an understatement when one tried to describe the Regio manor. It was a three-storey building comprised of a first floor with a rusticated facade that had four small windows on each side, the centre being interrupted by a wide mason staircase presided by a classic structure of pilasters, then followed by an entablature and a pediment with the most ornate of tympanums. He imagined the staircase lead to the primo piano nobile. To both sides of the main entrance were two sets of four architrave windows built in perfect symmetry. Above it all, was the third floor, which mostly mirrored the second, but had a total of ten slightly smaller windows, as there wasn’t another central element to interrupt their flow. 

If this marriage agreement moved forward, one day, this would be technically his. It will be his wife’s, but, as spouses, they are supposed to share it all. Villa Morandi will be hers as well, it was only fair. 

A part of him felt bad for not having had the chance to keep contact with Lady Romina Regio previous to now. How was one supposed to feel when they get no say in who they marry? Father, at least, had asked him. Yes, he risked disappointing him, but, ultimately, the choice was his.  Will this woman, on the account of her status, be allowed such a choice? He feared her parents were the only people who would decide. Father too. Does she even want the father of her fiancé to take this from her? Is it right to deceive themselves like this, to have God bind them when no love is to arise from this union? Is a potential friendship worthy of the sacrament of matrimony? 

Patton knew two things with certainty: he wanted to be a good friend to Lady Romina Regio and he could not sacrifice his feelings for Janus to achieve it. 

They were guided inside by Virginia Fusco, Lady Romina Regio’s personal servant.

The entrance consisted of a corridor, divided into three naves, by two rows of ionic columns made of rose gold marble. Above that, there was a straight ceiling with five rows of twelve coffers, all richly painted with floral and geometric motifs. His boots looked cheap in comparison to the flooring they walked on. Big and polished terracotta tiles in a diamond pattern covered the ground, the corners were clipped to accommodate small white marble accents. 

Once they passed the entrance, this father was led upstairs by another servant, while Virginia instructed him to accompany her elsewhere. 

“I am glad you arrived here safely after leaving Villa Morandi. Has everything been well?”

She stilled for a moment. 

“Uuh… thank you for the kind concern, sir. Things in the house have been… busy due to the news of your engagement to her ladyship” she began walking again. 

“I was asking about you”. 

“Pardon?”

“When I asked, before, I wanted to know if you have been doing well. It must be stressful to be sent back and forth between the palazzo and Villa Morandi during the last weeks, especially being a personal maid to her ladyship, it is uncommon for someone like you to be used as a messenger”. 

“I shall do anything her ladyship requires. Any task”. 

“Oh! Sorry! I did not intend to say you would not”, Patton stopped dead in his tracks. 

Virginia turned around and stared at him in confusion. 

“I… when you first arrived I did not expect her ladyship’s personal servant to be at my home. Her ladyship’s maid is supposed to stay with her, so I thought something bad might have happened… The trip in between is not too long but done enough times it can prove to be energy-consuming”. 

Patton was met with even more confusion from Virginia, so he kept babbling in hopes of fixing his mistake. “Not that you would not be willing to put up with it for her ladyship, I am sure. I did also not mean to assume anything, that is why I asked in the first place, I only meant it kindly…” 

“Sir, it is alright”, she began saying. 

If Patton had not been as worked up with the conversation as he was he may have detected the slightest hint of amusement coming from Virginia. 

“Her ladyship is--”

“Oh! Oh, that too! I did not mean to not inquire about her ladyship’s wellbeing, part of me dared to hope I could meet her today and ask her in person…” 

“Sir, please, follow me. I am afraid we cannot keep the person I am taking you to waiting, you see, her ladyship finds it upsetting”. 

Patton laughed. 

It caught Virginia off guard. People were not supposed to behave so… openly within these walls. At least she wasn’t used to it. 

“You must excuse this man’s oblivious nature, I should have realised where you were taking me earlier”. 

“Sir, I am undeserving of your apologies. But, if we keep stalling, her ladyship will require one”. 

“Of course, lead the way”.

-------------------------

His horse reached the palazzo just in time to see the Morandi’s carriage passing by. 

Unlike his dear Patton, he did not have an invitation. Sneaking past the guards, an easy task if you asked him, had to suffice. 

The place was huge, it was to be expected from such a family. Janus couldn’t care less for the grandeur, not when he couldn’t get his hands on it, and that wasn’t the reason why he had come there. 

It would seem the Regio had it going on. The palazzo was relatively new, built, at most, fifty years ago. If you checked the list, all of the items relating to appearance did justice to the status of the family. Looking closely though… 

There were only two boys and an old man tending to the gardens. Gardens as big as everything else, mind you. So, clearly, they were understaffed. Which was precisely why Janus had been able to hide between a set of unkempt bushes to change into today’s costume. As long as he managed to avoid getting any leaves of brunches stuck, it would all be fine. 

Back to the Regio, though. If one was as much of an expert at judging other people’s wealth as Janus was, save that one time with a woman at an inn, it became obvious that the counts were missing on the money. Firstly, the manor had been built recently, but most certainly not after the war. Secondly, the guards were as many as one would expect, but not as… on guard -curse Patton’s sense of humour- as they should. This just told him they weren’t being paid that much. Then was the matter of understaffing. 

And, of course, Patton’s presence here. 

Janus had not forgotten Signor Morandi’s words. Patton could only afford to marry a countess because the Regio could not afford anyone less wealthy. 

The clothes were on and he was inside the house. 

Why did these people never put any sort of vigilance at the servant’s entrances? It never occurred to them that even if people wouldn’t steal their laundry, perhaps they would get in with the laundry. Pathetic. 

It made his life easier, though. 

He was in. 

He was in and he was going to… what? 

For starters try to find any dirt on Patton’s dear future wife. Maybe any belongings that could give him some leverage. Just to be safe. 

Janus knew Patton would keep his word, even if it destroyed him, and it would. Nobles always wanted offspring. Janus just wasn’t sure if Patton would be up for the task when someone did not have his pretty eyes and his masculine figure. 

Causing troubles for his beloved was the last thing he wanted. But, if it came to it, Janus would do anything. Whether that meant creating accidents, blackmailing or appointing a convenient kidnapping during a wedding night. 

He went up the servant’s stairs and reached a second-floor gallery, open to the courtyard below. 

Just when he was about to leave, his ears caught some hushed shouting coming from above.

-------------------------

“How could she do this to me!?” 

Romina stormed the third-floor corridor, without any bearing nor destination. 

“Your ladyship, please, we must go back!” Virginia ran behind her, speaking between her teeth. 

“Did you see him, Virg?”

“Yes, I did, your ladyship”. 

“I-- this is outrageous!” 

“I beg you, can we not have this conversation here, your ladyship?” 

Despite Virginia kindly pointing out that the third-floor gallery was hardly an appropriate location for such or any kind of discussion, Romina did not heed her request. 

“I was going to become a princess! And because of this, I am deprived of royalty! Because my sister fancies herself a man!” 

“For the love of…, you know what, no. I am tired of this. She dresses like a man, she talks like a man, she looks like a man and she feels like one. In which way is she, no, he, not a man?” 

Romina grimaced at her own words. Still, she was far too angry to let go of her resentment. 

“In the fact that he has no honour. He lied to me, several times. First by promising we’ll stay together. Then he did not care to tell me I had a brother, didn’t even trust me for that, and now he has abandoned me. And what for? He saw that pretty ‘scientist’ or whatever he calls himself and decided to follow him to the end of the world. How come he gets to be a pirate when I have to become a wife?!”

“Romina, please, shut your big mouth before anyone overhears us” Virginia warned. 

“So now I must be quiet!”

“Yes! For your sake, you dumbass”. 

“Well, I will not be quiet, you… you sonnetist of elegies!” 

“That’s not even a--” Virginia placed her hand on the bridge of her nose. 

As if to make her point clearer, Romina kept walking into the gallery. 

“I don’t care! You know why? Because now I have to replace him in a destiny none of us wanted, but at least he had been prepared for! What am I going to do?” 

“How about you begin by coming back--” 

“He leaves me like this, to be mocked and compared to him,--” 

“Oh Lord, why do I even bother--”

“--who ran away. How could he be so selfish!? Let me ask you this instead, how can a man surrender his word and his honour so readily?”

Then, Virginia stilled completely. 

She didn’t know whether she felt angry or deeply saddened.

“What wouldn’t any of us do to seize the freedom that we have forever been denied? And, who wouldn’t cast away honour to be free and loved? Can’t you identify with that, or are you a liar too?”

“I…”

“Is it Remus who you’re angry at?” 

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I am still going to have to get married to some random person--!”

“Oh, shut up! At least he’s nice! Do you know what he did when he met me? Because he came to personally receive me, you see. He asked for my name! Not only that, but he remembers it. Just when I was taking him to see you, he asked me how had I been! Have you any idea how many people do that? You are so privileged you cannot get your head out of your stuck-up ass, Princess. Nobody ever cares how people like me are doing!” 

“Oh, so that is what this is about! Well, sorry I can’t pepper you with attention every waking moment, love--” 

“Fuck off, I already know that, stop making this about you!” 

“But it is about me!”

“You’re so lucky you get to marry a kind man! Any other person would just use his status to be a self-righteous narcissistic asshole, yes, Princess, like you, but not young Signor Morandi so quit mopping!” 

“Well, if you like him so much, then why don’t you marry him instead?!” 

Her hands gripped her apron tightly. Virginia could not bear her gaze at the moment. She bit her lip as if that could help her to cope with the backlash at the sheer stupidity of Romina’s words. 

“I am sorry”. 

“You… at least you’re… hmm…” she took a deep breath. In part to give herself time to consider what to say carefully, but, also, to calm down. “Male-inclined. I… your ladyship, if I did not serve you I fear I would only be any good left in a nunnery. You must understand, if I could choose who to marry, well, kind and considerate is not much of my type, as you must be aware. Neither is Signor Morandi”. 

“If…” 

Romina returned to her side. 

Her hands, littered with all sorts of rings, made Virginia’s hands give up on holding the apron. The labour-stained pair were squeezed safely. 

“Please, please look at me”. 

The request made Virginia want to refuse. But, aside from her position, these were the kind of situations in which Virginia could not deny Romina. 

“If I could choose who to marry, it would be one who would make me a princess, not on the account of status, but with word… if you know what I mean”. 

Virginia rolled her eyes. 

“The only one that dense here is you”. 

“The mouth on you. I am going to have to keep you by my side”, she paused for a second and then whispered, “my love”. 

Her gaze was most intense upon hearing that. The pair of dark brown eyes opening in a way that could be described as feline. 

“No nunnery could be at your level when it comes to sarcasm and bossing other women around. I, at the very least, can hold my ground for longer until you get me to do your bid--”

Finally, Romina was quiet. 

Virginia gripped her shoulders, squeezing the puffs of her dress’ sleeves, with the tips of her fingers touching against the golden netting that covered Romina’s chest. It was as if she was trying to drink the life out of those lips. Her very being was buzzing with want and anger. 

The bejewelled woman became pliant, yet passionate, under the touch. Bravery, whenever it surfaced in Virginia, was something to behold. Even more of a thing to experience. 

“Fuck” Virginia covered her mouth with her hands as she abruptly parted. 

“Likewise. Oh, I feel dizzy” she smiled. 

“No, not that way. I… shit… I just did...that! And here!”

“Now, now”, Romina grasped her hands. 

She caressed the base of Virginia’s thumbs with a devoted look. 

“Ro…”

“No reason to panic, my nightly gale”. 

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that” a voice came from the other side of the gallery.

-------------------------

The room was quiet. 

No. 

The room was completely silent and Patton had no idea what had gone wrong. He never intended to say something that could harm anyone’s sensitivities. It just never occurred to him that someone could be offended by a pun about the weather. 

This first attempt at friendship had not been… great. 

His father would certainly laugh at Lady Romina Regio’s decision to storm out of the room upon hearing a silly joke. He would make nothing of it. He’d say womanly outbursts were to be expected. Darn it, most people would say so.

Ignoring it would be simple. 

Patton could not ignore it. 

Firstly, it became clear to him that her ladyship had no say in her marrying him. Not only that, but she might feel strongly against it. Secondly, and most important, he intended to build a friendship with her. 

Considering the circumstances, the best he could do would be to find her and speak from the heart. If he explained to her that he meant no ill by making a joke, or to be insensitive by indulging in frivolities in the face of such a serious matter as their first meeting, she might feel better. And, if she still refused him, he could offer to call the entire thing off. 

Except that would be a terrible idea. Her family needed the money and going back on his choice would make her chances even more difficult. But, maybe, she wanted that. Her reaction pointed to it. Father would be very disappointed, the last thing Patton wanted was to be a bad son. But wasn’t it worse to force a woman into a marriage? Also, Janus. He’d be free to remain with him for longer. 

What was he going to do? He didn’t know what the right answer to this was.  

Talking to her. Patton could start by doing that, but first, he needed to find her.

-------------------------

This wasn’t the kind of dirt he had expected to find, but only a moron would look a gift horse in the mouth right now.

The servant girl’s passion came out of nowhere. He almost wanted to take notes. 

“No reason to panic, my nightly gale”, said the countess, still entranced at the sight of her maid’s hands. 

She had just given him his cue, so Janus could not help but oblige. 

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that”, he said leaving his hiding spot. 

Instantly, they turned to look at him. The countess let go of the other’s hands in a jolt. Her demeanour changed in a second. So, not only was she a countess, but also a terrific actress. 

“Oh! Good day sir! Are you, by any chance, lost? My servant can…” she looked at the aforementioned. 

Her maid was having none of it. She eyed him suspiciously, ignoring how her mistress’ body language asked her to calm down. 

“Were you coming to see his lordship? I am afraid he is busy at the moment”. 

“Oh, well yes. I was sent by Marquess Sanders to inquire about a series of matters relating to war expenses” he said as he took off his cape. 

By revealing his outfit he hoped to gain some credibility. Looking rich always got people off your back. Especially when you carried a sword. 

The countess’ eyes lit up in recognition of his dusack. Dusacks were one of the main weapons sent by Marquess Sanders during the war, this one so happened to also have the family crest attached to the scabbard. 

Normally, he would have covered it to avoid getting Thomas into trouble. 

“Well, in that case--” Romina began to say. 

“Excuse me, sir, but I am sure her ladyship would first like to see the letters that his lordship always has his people carry”. 

“Is your maid often allowed to talk over you, your ladyship?” 

“I...uh…” Romina looked at her maid for help. 

“Well, that is to be expected, as she is allowed to do much more than that, is she not?” 

The maid squinted at him. 

“Oh, that thing? It was a… a token of friendship!” the countess proudly proclaimed. 

While she may be a fantastic actress, she surely was a terrible liar. The maid scoffed in the way Janus could not, whether it was due to hearing her lover say something that ridiculous or because of the awful lie he could not tell. 

“If that is how I treated all my friends I am certain my lovers would be confused”. 

Both women caught their breaths. 

“I would, of course, not be so indiscreet as to say anything, for a price, that is”. 

“What is it that you want?” 

“I’ve heard you are soon to be married--” 

The maid looked at him even more intensely, and then…

“Your ladyship, this man is deceiving you”. 

“Yeah, I can tell, we were just discussing--”

“You dense ass, not now, all the time! His money bag over there, it’s Signor Morandi’s!” 

Oh, fuck. 

Well, it couldn’t be helped. 

Janus unsheathed his sword and pointed it to the maid’s neck. 

“I suggest we keep this matter quiet, or else I’ll have to keep it quiet forever”.

-------------------------

Patton’s efforts to find Lady Romina Regio or her servant, Virginia, had not been successful so far. He had explored the main areas of the house, now finding himself at the first-floor courtyard. 

The smells coming from the kitchen, where the staff worked in their earnest to prepare tonight’s dinner, danced in the air. Patton sat at a stone bench, wondering what else he could do. His only chance would be waiting until both families dined together. He’d wish to apologise to her ladyship before that, so they could indulge in the dishes without any looming over. 

Then, the faint sound of a voice coming from above called his attention. 

It was barely hearable due to the clankings of nearby cooking. But there was no way he wouldn’t recognise it. 

“I would... be so indiscreet … price...” Patton could make out. 

Indeed, it was Janus’ voice. If that and the words ‘indiscreet’ and ‘price’ were anything to go by, he was blackmailing someone. 

Her ladyship was nowhere to be found and Janus was being Janus nearby. It didn’t take too much to put two and two together. 

Patton moved around the courtyard while staring upwards. 

There they were! He only had to find a way to…

Oh no. 

Janus was pointing his sword to Virginia’s neck. 

Before Patton could realise what he was doing, his feet were already running upstairs.

-------------------------

This would have been a great time for both of them to bail, hadn’t a sword been pointed at her. But, that's life. Some days you wake up next to your lover in her chambers with a deep feeling of dread over, well, everything; other days you are about to get basically beheaded, what can you do. 

For starters, Virginia was going to fight, because she didn’t feel particularly inspired to think at the moment. 

“Please, do not hurt her, I beg you”, Romina said. 

Wonderful. Virginia was either about to get hurt or be very lucky on her own accord. 

She quickly leaned back and ducked, taking advantage of the man’s attention being redirected at Romina’s plea. 

Definitely, she was getting hurt, not lucky, as the sword fell down on her with a swift swoop. 

That was it. 

Then, Romina pulled another sword from the pocket opening of her dress, crossing blades with the thief, but, most importantly, saving her life. She was going to be really cocky about it, if they made it out in one piece. 

“Well, this was a lovely surprise”, the thief said as Romina and he circled each other, edges sliding in a sharp sound, “but if you don’t give it up, you’ll end up maimed and, after that, let’s say… your maid may take a nudge downstairs”. 

Romina slid the sword away and twirled it back to strike. The thief had enough reflexes to put his dusack across his face before it got cut in half. 

A strong clank echoed all over the gallery and the courtyard below. 

“You foul fiend! You may be brave enough to threaten me, but your overconfidence in thinking you can get away--” she struck again, “with endangering her--” Romina turned them, making it so Virginia was behind her, as if to underline her words, “shall be your downfall”. 

“Thank you for enlightening me, your highness” the thief began to say. 

He overpowered Romina by twisting their swords. She collided against Virginia’s chest after the villain shoved her away. 

“This has, clearly, proved how friendly you are. By all means, tell me, are you also willing to die for all of your friends?” 

His next move was more successful now that he had gained more range of attack. The thief plunged forward in a piercing motion. Romina stopped it with a backhanded sweep, then turned on herself, making it so his blade pointed to the ground. 

“I would die for her, any day”. 

Virginia did not have the right to feel as flustered as she did, not when they were in mortal danger. Somehow, Romina’s best romantic lines happened whenever she did not speak them directly to her. Seeing her look that fierce when fighting may also factor into it. Why did Princess always have to be so intense?

“Is this a confession? Scandalous!” 

“It is a promise”. 

There was a delicate balance between each other for a moment. Their eyes locked in a stare. 

It was so strange, Virginia thought. This man keeps on threatening them, but he hesitates. What was holding him back? Also, why steal a coin bag when you plan on blackmailing someone? Yes, it had to be planned, otherwise, the marquess lie made no sense, too much preparation involved for that to be a coincidence. Could he actually be sent by the marquess? But, why? The Regio and the marquess had had a wonderful relationship over the years. 

Something didn’t fit. 

The thief moved ever so slightly. Romina, clearly, wasn’t taking any chances.

In a display of quick reflexes, she side-kicked him on the chest, making him stumble backwards. 

While the thief struggled to regain his footing, Romina sliced through the cord keeping Signor Morandi’s coin bag attached to his waist. She smiled playfully. 

“For someone so smug, you are surely a clumsy opponent”. 

“I’ll give you clumsy” he replied stepping forward and thrusting with the sword. 

Romina blocked his attack effortlessly, but, soon, Virginia realised that wasn’t the thief’s intention. His right foot was just in front of the bag, ready to move it towards him like a hook. 

“Ro, the bag!” Virginia warned. 

She looked down and smirked. 

“This the price of greed”, Romina mocked as her sword turned to strike the thief’s right leg. 

The dusack crossed blades, again, with Romina’s before it could do any damage. 

“Your willingness to lose a leg over some gold only proves the worth of your lot”.  

He leaned closer to Romina, looking at her in the eye as he twisted their swords to get the upper hand. 

“You know nothing about me or what I stand for”, he said in a deep and menacing voice. 

Romina laughed in between her teeth. 

“I may not, but I know one thing”. 

“Oh, and what is that?”

“You just got distracted”. 

Romina’s foot slipped past the thief’s, kicking the coin bag away from him. He ran to his left while blocking Romina’s attacks at his right. 

What was so special about a coin bag anyway?

-------------------------

Patton began to hear sword fighting noises just before he reached the entrance to the stairs. 

What was Janus thinking? Engaging in a face-off with Lady Romina Regio, who not only was a countess with an apparent disdain for weather puns but also a remarkable swordswoman, had to be one of his worst ideas to date. 

While he had faith in Janus’ skills, he also knew that her ladyship’s fencing instructor had been fired, as a lesson, after she stabbed a man on the shoulder during a ‘casual’ duel.

-------------------------

The coin bag was kicked and pushed from one place to another by the thief and Romina while they dodged attacks.

“Is it the gold you are fighting for or is it your pride, villain?” she said, smirk reflecting on her blade. 

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to project your desires onto others? So honourable protecting her frail maiden!”, he pushed forward. “Still… it would almost seem, not because of the self-indulging banter, that you only duel to flatter yourself”.

“The one who is so set in getting a stolen coin bag dares to lecture me on selfishness!” 

Romina used her weight to stop him from making her retrocede any further. Her grin widened, satisfied in this victory. 

“Takes one egoist to know one”.

Right then, the thief made a sudden move. 

“Romina!” Virginia exclaimed. 

“I’m fine!” she said, wiping the bleeding cut on her jaw. 

The thief looked at the prized coin bag that he now held in his hand. 

“Loved beating you, but I think I will take my lea--” 

He was interrupted by Romina’s scream. Her sword wooshed several times in front of his face, barely leaving him time to bend backwards to avoid it. The dusack clancked against the floor. 

“Shit” the thief cursed. 

Things looked dire for the thief. With his sword out of reach, there was little he could do. Romina’s sword flashed by one more time, slashing through his left upper arm. Despite the painful burn of the cut, his left hand did not let go of the coin bag. Nevertheless, he fell on his knee, clutching the wound with his free hand. 

“I will make you an offering, villain”, Romina pointed at him with the sword, gloating over his tilted gaze. “Return Signor Morandi’s coin bag to me, and I shall let you go”. 

“Your ladyship, kindly get stabbed in the chest”. 

She turned his back on him, twirling her sword while at it. 

“As you wish”. 

Time froze before Romina could even think about delivering the killing blow. 

Virginia saw the thief reach for his boot, pulling out a stiletto. He stood up and positioned his knife pointing upwards. Because of this, Virginia panicked, already imagining the tip breaking through Romina’s lower back and into her chest. 

Immediately, she ran in front of the thief, head empty of thoughts, only consuming fear. At the same time, the thief began a descending motion, making Virginia realise where he aimed for. 

‘He’s going for her leg!’, Virginia thought. 

This would not help. When they crossed, the thief’s knife was at the height of Virginia’s gut. 

Virginia looked at him in terror. 

The thief looked at Virginia in panic. 

The fabrics of Romina’s dress could be heard twisting in the air, as she turned around, only to see the back of Virginia’s head. 

“No!” Romina cried. 

In yet another display of quick reflexes, the thief let go of the stiletto, just before it could do any damage. 

Romina only heard the blade fall as she shoved Virginia aside. 

She punched him on the left cheek, leaving the outline of her rings imprinted on his skin, red and slowly swelling. 

The thief’s boots staggered backwards. 

He fell face up in the middle of the gallery corridor. 

Faster than ever, Romina’s sword moved and settled its tip at the base of the thief’s neck, sort of mirroring how he had threatened Virginia. 

Virginia brazed herself against the wall. Her breathing heaved like the bellows trying to get the fire back up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw young Signor Morandi emerging from the path that connected to one of the third-floor staircases. 

“Please, do not hurt him, I beg you”, he said while catching his breath. 

Romina looked upwards to stare at him. 

“What is the meaning of this?! Do you know this man? Did you send him?!”

Sometimes, Romina could outmatch Virginia when it came to reaching conclusions. This just so happened to be the worst possible moment. 

“I--” 

Only Virginia saw how the eyes of the thief went wide at hearing young Signor Morandi’s voice, his frown when Romina accused him. 

“Look at me!” the thief shouted. 

“Trying to protect your master, villain?” 

“That is not quite… this is a complete misunderstanding, if we talked--” young Signor Morandi began to say. 

“Shut up!” both Romina and the thief replied in unison. 

“Stop talking nonsense, your highness”. 

“Oh, so it is nonsense! He seems to know you, how do you explain that?” 

Virginia squinted at them, getting the sense that she was missing something more than ever. 

“Janus, please, let me tell them the--” 

“We now have a name for our thief!” she announced triumphantly. “So you do know each other! Let me tell you, Jolliest Caesar, he has betrayed you. Whatever you paid him seemed to be less than enough, so he stole your father’s coin bag”. 

Young Signor Morandi’s eyes went straight to said item, lighting up in recognition and some other emotion much harder to identify. 

“Is this the outcome you desired? I thought you were silly, I was... persuaded to believe you were kind. But, this? Do you owe your father so much disrespect?” 

He grimaced in response, looking away. Meanwhile, Janus pursed his lips in a thin line. 

‘Why does it matter to him?’, Virginia wondered. 

“Signor Morandi is an upright man, someone who carries himself proud and virtuous. I will not insult him by denouncing you to my family, but I hope you learn to have--” 

“Oh, poor and noble Signor Morandi! Rid of a coin bag, whatever will he do?!” Janus shouted.  

The gazes of all people present turned to him.

“It’s not as if he could buy another. Are we to pity him?! He is so good! You defend what you think to be the property of a man who would gladly pull any pair of lovers apart. Gift his son to a stack of classist swine in exchange for a title! What an estimate of his worth!”

One could almost marvel at him having the nerve to spit his anger even under the point of a blade. Romina frowned, taken aback.  

“But he’s so upright! Admit it, you couldn’t care any less about this ridiculous coin bag, you just want to use it as an excuse to keep your affair with your servant hidden. Am I the one you wish to kill or does it make you feel less powerless to pretend you’re stabbing another man? None of us gets a choice”.

Young Signor Morandi held his breath. 

Virginia let hers out. That was it! Of course! How could she not have realized earlier?

“Spilling my blood won’t change that! I may not be good, but I can at least see through the lies, and you aren’t good either. You’re as selfish as I am and you won’t get to keep her, we never do”. 

“What?” Romina answered. 

She looked at Virginia, then at young Signor Morandi, then back at him. 

“Are you seriously doing this? I could make these your last words! What is wrong with you! This is madness. I am about to die” she began to mock him, “let me make this moment into a speech about society and another man’s stolen money. Who does that? I know I am dramatic, but, at the very least--!” 

“Princess, shut up!” Virginia shouted. 

“Excuse me, I was only trying to give some fair critic--”

“Not the time. Also, you are completely missing the point! 

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know how we always talk after dinner?” 

“That is not what we do after…”

“Yes”. 

“So what is your point? Oooooh!” 

“Now you get it…” she closed her eyes. 

“They also talk…” Romina smiled.

“Hmm”. 

“And he is actually…!” she pointed back and forth between the two with her sword. “They are…!”

“We are, and if you would” Janus flattened himself against the floor. 

“Your ladyship, please, my Janus has had enough of sharp objects for…” young Signor Morandi looked at him. 

“For forever, put the sword away”. 

Romina did as requested and promptly offered a hand to help Janus get on his feet. 

“You are one menace of a woman”. 

“Thank you”. 

“What is going on?!” 

A large set of rushed footsteps accompanied the question. The four turned around to see his lordship, Count Regio, his wife, Signor Morandi and a myriad of servants. 

“Oh, father, mother!” Romina exclaimed. “Signor Morandi”, she greeted more formally. 

“Romina, what is the meaning of this?” said Count Regio. 

“Your lordship, your ladyship”, Janus spoke after a bow. “I was sent by Marquess Sanders”. 

Romina turned to look at him. His attire was mostly back in place, a part of her couldn’t help but be impressed. After spotting the family crest on Janus’ dusack, the counts’ expression changed from confusion to shame. 

“Romina, did you duel this man? Apologise this instant!” Count Regio looked livid as he spoke. “We already had to be rid of her fencing teacher, do not worry, Signor Morandi, we will also dispose of her swords”, Countess Regio reassured. 

In the scandal, Virginia was the only one to notice the coin bag forgotten on the floor. She stepped to the side, knowing no one would pay attention to her, as per usual, especially with such chaos. The coin bag disappeared under Virginia’s skirts, dragged by her foot. Young Signor Morandi walked past her and nodded in a silent gesture of gratitude. Perhaps one person did notice. 

“Your ladyship, that will not be necessary, I come as a new fencing teacher, an early engagement present of Marquess Sanders”. 

“But how did he know…” Virginia muttered. 

Janus did hear her and went on: 

“He was very impressed by the letters sent by your daughter. Marquess Sanders believes that someone with such impeccable diplomacy, and a disposition to secure the future relationship of her family, should not be deprived of outstandingness. To preserve such remarkable, dare I say, rare, qualities on a lady, he sent me. Marquess Sanders hopes my instruction can further her skills and aid her to grow more accomplished than ever before”. 

“Oh, that is fantastic to hear!” Count Regio said, looking a lot more uncomfortable than her tone would suggest. “But, Lady Romina, as you already are aware of, is engaged now. We ought to hear young Signor Morandi’s opinion on the matter”.

-------------------------

All eyes turned to Patton. 

“Actually…” 

For a moment, he doubted himself. 

Lying, as he had always been told, was sinful. But so was ignoring the struggle of the weak, breaking your word and not honouring one’s spouse. 

Most importantly, Patton had to honour his heart. 

If lying was the price to pay… well, so be it. 

“I asked her for a demonstration. I have always harboured a burning admiration for her dexterity with the sword. Her ladyship is truly heroic and radiant when duelling”. 

Romina turned to look at him.

It would seem he had managed to become friends with her after all.  

-------------------------

The moonlight shone in its quiet dance with the nightly air. This was, once again, a clear summer evening, but it marked the end of an insane day. The sounds of dining and chatting had died out. Everyone, gradually, left for their rooms. Janus, crossing the gardens, intended to do the same. 

Climbing with a wounded arm made his ascend harder than usual. Luckily, the ostentatious facade of the palazzo gave him countless points to anchor himself to. Slowly but surely, he got to Patton’s open window. 

 As what felt like always, Patton held him by the lapels of his cape and pulled him inside. 

Rather than saying hello, Patton kissed him. It was gentle, devoid of the despair that had marked all their meetings during the last weeks. Patton pulled apart just as softly. 

“Here”. 

Janus stared at the coin bag in his hand and smirked. 

“Dear, if you keep on offering me your money you’ll turn into the worst noble ever, and I, the worst thief”, he said with no real smugness. 

Patton laughed. 

“Virginia retrieved it when nobody looked”. 

“I’ll remember to thank her”. 

“Please, be nice this time”. 

“You saw that?” 

“Yes. Janus, pointing at someone with… that thing… don’t do it again”. 

Janus shrugged and leaned in to kiss him again. A pair of hands pulled on his cape, that fell on the floor, forgotten. 

“I don’t think” Janus half-laughed, “I could get away with it again”. 

His bandages were fresh. The bleeding had stopped, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Patton stared at it and furrowed his eyebrows. 

“I could have lost you today”. 

“You saved me again”. 

“Well, that isn’t entirely true”. 

“Oh, why would that be?” 

“You managed to stand your ground until I could save you”. 

“Call it good timing”. 

Patton smiled. 

“What’s so funny?” Janus smiled as well. 

“I’m happy. We… we are going to be together after this. I even gained two friends”. 

“You keep meeting the strangest people, dear”. 

“I’ll have to make sure that you kids don’t get hurt”. 

“We’ll try to be in our best behaviour”. 

Patton got closer and whispered:

“Liar”. 

Janus swallowed and stared at him, suddenly feeling defeated, yet happy about it. He loosened his belt, letting it fall to the floor with his dusack. 

It made an awful lot of noise. Patton looked down, almost in disbelief at Janus’ newfound capacity to make a sound. 

“Hmm. Where did you really get that sword? Romina could get in serious trouble if…”

“Don’t worry, Thomas won’t mind covering for me”. 

“Thomas? You know the marquess?” 

“Let us sit on the bed, I think that you deserve to know this secret”. 

Both of them got comfortable on the ridiculous wall of pillows placed against the headboard of the canopy bed. 

“I used to work for the Sanders family. Ever since I was a boy, I tended to the horses, which is how Thomas and I became friends in the first place. As we grew, he decided to make me his personal servant, and, aside from learning to lie as easy as speaking, I also learned I hate rich people. Thomas is okay though. I think you and Thomas are the only rich people I tolerate”. 

“Well, that’s rich”. 

“Patton! I’m telling you my tragic story!” he said, not at all bothered. “Anyhow, I decided that wasn’t for me, so I told Thomas. He was sad, but he respected it. Before I left, he gave me his own sword, I guess as a safe-conduct of sorts, maybe to remind me I could always come back”. 

“That is… a lot”. 

“I know. He’s a good friend. Believe it or not, I’ve never used it until today. I… couldn’t let you get caught in any of my… shall we say, activities, so I figured…” 

Patton grabbed him, mindful of his wounds, and pulled him close. 

“You need to let other people in, Janus. I know I’m kind of silly, but I can still help. I wish you could see that when you let people know you they want to be on your side. You are someone worth knowing”. 

“And you are more of a bastard than people give you credit for”. 

His laughter made them shake a little. Janus stared at Patton’s joyful expression feeling satisfied. 

“I guess I am”. 

“Pity you don’t want to do anything wicked with it”. 

“I’ll leave that to you, just, tell me beforehand”. 

“How else would I be saved last minute, dear?” 

They stared at each other for a while. It hadn’t fully hit Janus until now that this, this thing right now, would be his life from now on. Thinking that, perhaps the world wasn’t as cruel as he had always made it to be. 

“You are so good”. 

Patton kissed him again. 

“Only when nobody’s looking”. 

“Jan, name’s Patton, not nobody”. 

“You think you’re so funny”. 

“Am I not, when I make you smile like this?”

-------------------------

Taglist: @joylessnightsky , (the following interacted with my tagging request post, so I assumed you wanted to be tagged, if not, please tell me) @jerasings , @daemoade , @grandhairdofarmgoop . 

[missrkl]

The Temple Chapter Three

Rachel felt the fire burning within her. A growing passion blazing like a fiery furnace. She wasn’t going to take this sitting down. Enough people had been lied to and hurt by the very same people preaching love, prosperity and peace. As the newspaper journalist once wrote about the place when placing a review on The Temple “like a bunch of quacks.” Although the journalist was talking about Adon’s Elysium language rather than the people themselves being quacks. Maybe they both meant it differently. Rachel didn’t like that. How dare the journalist make fun of Adon’s Elysium language, Tongues. It was a high privilege to learn to speak this language, in which Rachel herself was affluent in. Despite being angry about the segregation within The Temple, she was angry even more at those who dared to trash talk the place. She could trash talk the place because she came from there, but for an outsider to come in and trash the talk the place and it’s people without an ounce of understanding was just wrong. That was on a whole other level. Rachel felt the fire burning within her getting stronger. She was still here in the park with the gang, but now they were on the move. It was getting late and they needed to meet inside somewhere. Usually Ecclesiastes had a place. They followed him silently trudging through the park like a panther, voiceless, silent. This was their strength, they weren’t called The Voiceless for nothing. They trudged out of the park and walked down the road as different cars passed them by. The Temple’s meeting would have ended by now, and right by schedule the stragglers would soon be leaving the place. They always had eating after a meeting in the downstairs hall. One thing The Temple was good at was their impeccable timing. Schedules always ran on time, sermons always finished on point and in time, dance lessons, choir rehearsals always finished on time. Even the stragglers that left behind at the last moment always finished on time. Obedience to the highest degree. They were always obedient to their leaders, quick to listen and slow to speak, a trait of Adon, one that Rachel was proud of. Despite all the drama behind the scenes, there was many things Rachel knew was a divine privilege and something to thank Adon for. Like their sermons, highly theological, highly biblical and highly ethical, highly political, highly correct almost 99% of the time. Their training was also known for its highest quality that even outsiders wanted to join in but they couldn’t get in unless invited. It was rare for an outsider to make their way into their training. If there was one thing Rachel could boast about The Temple was the obedience of the people. Some people would argue that you couldn’t really blame the people, it was the leaders who made all the decisions, even in small group circles. It was very well controlled. Even friendships and social circles were highly controlled units, hence The Voiceless always remained voiceless.

They stood in the quiet darkness that shrouded The Temple as it was late. It was 930pm by now, the cleaners would be finished by 10pm. So they bided their time by sitting behind the wall, lurking in the shadows. Ecclesiastes had extra keys, they could use the downstairs hall without turning on the light, but relying on candles instead. They didn’t want to get caught. As they waited for the cleaners to leave, Rachel watched as Charles closed up. Charles was one of The Loyalists, he had been here a long time, his entire life in fact. Rachel watched Charles look around checking the place just before walking to get into his car and drive off. They waited a few minutes just in case he had forgotten something, but he didn’t come back. Ecclesiastes went up and opened the door and they all piled in as quiet as a mouse. Still silent they clambered down the stairs as silent as a cat’s furry paws hitting the carpet. They entered the lower hall and some of the gang went about taking out their candle sticks and candles and put them up in strategic places.

If there was one thing that Rachel was passionate about it was more than just about the segregation within the community, it was more and this something more was what Rachel was going to address the crowd this evening, after dinner. The people in charge of the food this evening took out their food they had stacked in their bags. Spaghetti, fried chicken, rice and beans, vegetable soup, bread and water. Something for everyone. Rachel sat on one of the chairs and tucked into her food. She wasn’t about to make small conversation just yet, she still felt the fire burning within her and it was burning so much that she knew if she didn’t speak it she herself would get burned. After dinner Rachel stood up at the front with Ecclesiastes by her side. Rachel raised her hand for the gang to become silent. Then Rachel spoke and said these words ““The law of Moses was unable to save us because of the weakness of our sinful nature. So God did what the law could not do. He sent his own Son in a body like the bodies we sinners have. And in that body God declared an end to sin’s control over us by giving his Son as a sacrifice for our sins. He did this so that the just requirement of the law would be fully satisfied for us, who no longer follow our sinful nature but instead follow the Spirit. Those who are dominated by the sinful nature think about sinful things, but those who are controlled by the Holy Spirit think about things that please the Spirit. So letting your sinful nature control your mind leads to death. But letting the Spirit control your mind leads to life and peace. For the sinful nature is always hostile to God. It never did obey God’s laws, and it never will. That’s why those who are still under the control of their sinful nature can never please God. And Christ lives within you, so even though your body will die because of sin, the Spirit gives you life because you have been made right with God. The Spirit of God, who raised Jesus from the dead, lives in you. And just as God raised Christ Jesus from the dead, he will give life to your mortal bodies by this same Spirit living within you.”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:3-8, 10-11‬ ‭NLT‬‬

They had the Holy Spirit, they were obedient to Him, the Spirit of Adon. Since they had the Spirit of Adon they could not remain voiceless and shouldn’t be treated like they have nothing good to say, as if they had no fire burning within them, like The Elites. Despite their hypocrisy they too had The Spirit of Adon, it was just their flesh crowding his voice out.

Rachel had paused for effect as the people listened, then she continued “ “Therefore, dear brothers and sisters, you have no obligation to do what your sinful nature urges you to do. For if you live by its dictates, you will die. But if through the power of the Spirit you put to death the deeds of your sinful nature, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For his Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God’s children. And since we are his children, we are his heirs. In fact, together with Christ we are heirs of God’s glory. But if we are to share his glory, we must also share his suffering.”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:12-14, 16-17‬ ‭NLT‬‬

They too were Adon’s children, they too were heirs to Christ, they too had their place in the kingdom and should never be treated as if they never did belong. Rachel continued ““Who dares accuse us whom God has chosen for his own? No one—for God himself has given us right standing with himself. Who then will condemn us? No one—for Christ Jesus died for us and was raised to life for us, and he is sitting in the place of honor at God’s right hand, pleading for us. Can anything ever separate us from Christ’s love? Does it mean he no longer loves us if we have trouble or calamity, or are persecuted, or hungry, or destitute, or in danger, or threatened with death? (As the Scriptures say, “For your sake we are killed every day; we are being slaughtered like sheep.”) No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us. And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:33-39‬ ‭NLT‬‬

They did belong Adon, they were created to bring him glory too, and nobody, nobody was going to push them out. As Rachel stepped down from the front of the crowd, Ecclesiastes decided to speak something and got up in front of the crowd. Ecclesiastes was also a dark skinned man, darker than Rachel, he was a black man with black hair and black roots. He was a man with strong physical structure, good solid build and muscles from all the physical training he had done growing up. This is what he said ““I looked long and hard at what goes on around here, and let me tell you, things are bad. And people feel it. There are people, for instance, on whom God showers everything—money, property, reputation—all they ever wanted or dreamed of. And then God doesn’t let them enjoy it. Some stranger comes along and has all the fun. It’s more of what I’m calling smoke. A bad business. Whatever happens, happens. Its destiny is fixed. You can’t argue with fate. The more words that are spoken, the more smoke there is in the air. And who is any better off? And who knows what’s best for us as we live out our meager smoke-and-shadow lives? And who can tell any of us the next chapter of our lives?”

‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭6:1-2, 10-12‬ ‭MSG‬‬

Ecclesiastes paused for effect and then continued ““A good reputation is better than a fat bank account. Your death date tells more than your birth date. You learn more at a funeral than at a feast— After all, that’s where we’ll end up. We might discover something from it. Crying is better than laughing. It blotches the face but it scours the heart. Sages invest themselves in hurt and grieving. Fools waste their lives in fun and games. You’ll get more from the rebuke of a sage Than from the song and dance of fools. The giggles of fools are like the crackling of twigs Under the cooking pot. And like smoke. Brutality stupefies even the wise And destroys the strongest heart. Endings are better than beginnings. Sticking to it is better than standing out.”

‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭7:1-8‬ ‭MSG‬‬

Ecclesiastes was addressing all the fun and games of The Temple, they were far too focused on all of their events than they were in sharing The Gospel of Christ Jesus, or loving their neighbour like they loved themselves. No, they were far too focused on labelling people, placing them in categories that they think fits their mould. Religion, Adon Hates.

Ecclesiastes concluded ““I’ve seen it all in my brief and pointless life—here a good person cut down in the middle of doing good, there a bad person living a long life of sheer evil. So don’t knock yourself out being good, and don’t go overboard being wise. Believe me, you won’t get anything out of it. But don’t press your luck by being bad, either. And don’t be reckless. Why die needlessly?”

‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭7:15-17‬ ‭MSG‬‬

The Temple was far too focused on being good and perfect all of the time. Like The Elites, everything had to be just so, they led the entire church not just in worship, but in everything. They were held at a higher standard by Adon, and Adon wasn’t happy with the effects of their overly religous behaviour on silencing and labelling people as voiceless.

Rachel felt the fire within her die down, she had spoken what Adon’s spirit had told her to say, she was obedient to him, not man. They were above the law, because they obeyed the voice of the Spirit of Adon. Rachel had a flashback to when she first encountered Ecclesiastes and he had begun training her there in the shadows, she had found a way out of this broken society and being labelled a voiceless meaningless nobody that would forever be banished by society into a pit of despair with no hope for their future but being a silent witness to everything going on within The Temple. At least she was out now she had said to Him, indeed she was. This is where she belonged, fighting to bring The Gospel of Christ Jesus back into the midst of The Temple, getting rid of all the divides within The Temple and making sure everybody loved their neighbour as they loved themselves.

[tricksters-captain]

Dinah Lance/Victor Zsasz/Roman Sionis imagines - Little Bird’s Secret - Part 1

AN: I think I’ll make this into a short series. 

Overall Summary: It’s finally your 21st and there’s only one place you wanna go! However, you may land in some unexpected trouble... 

Pairing(s): Sister!Dinah Lance x Sister!Reader, Victor Zsasz x Reader

Word count: 2,799

Warnings: Strong Language, Mutilation, Knives

It was your 21st birthday which meant you could finally head to the clubs out in Gotham. You had underage drank before like most people do in high school but you never bothered sneaking in anywhere with a fake especially because your older sister would never approve and she was kind enough to still let you live with her after everything your family had been through. 

You and Dinah shared the same father but had different mothers so it wasn’t even like you were fully related to each other but Dinah took you in after you escaped your dad’s grip when you were 12. Dinah saw how he treated you and the soft spot in her heart couldn’t turn a blind eye. 

“Happy birthday kiddo.” Dinah smiled brightly as she brought a small round cake with a ‘21′ on top. You sat up in your bed and rolled your eyes. 

“Not a kid. Legal drinking age now, sista!” You raised your arms and danced on the spot as your sister shook her head at you. 

“I know. I booked tonight off work so I could pick your drunk ass up later. I don’t want you taking a cab, they’re overpriced and usually some perv is up front.” Dinah squeezed next to you on your bed as you blew out your candles. 

“Aren’t you just the best big sister in the world.” You groaned sarcastically. You knew this meant that she’d probably be asking some favour next for doing this for you. 

“Hey! I am!” Dinah shoved your shoulder with hers. “The only thing I ask is that you stay away from my work. You don’t need to be involved with that club, and it’s overrated anyways.” Dinah fiddled with the rings on her fingers as she spoke. 

“You can always quit, D.” You reminded her as you read her thoughts on her opinion of her workplace. 

“Yeah right? And find a job that pays me this well for this little? Hell no.” Dinah scoffed, pushing herself up onto her feet again. 

“I gotta run some chores this morning for Sionis in order to get this evening off but I’ll see you for lunch.” 

“Love you, D.” You reached towards her and you both did the handshake you two have had for years whilst you read the birthday card from her. There was a small chain inside that fell onto your lap. 

It was a gorgeous gold necklace with two small birds on it. You knew they represented the two of you and you didn’t hesitate to put it on.

For majority of the morning you spent seeing your friends and receiving all sorts of gifts, including a lot of alcohol. By the time lunch hit, you made your way through the east end of Gotham to the cafe you and your sister always visited.

You sat down in your usual outside seat and waited for your sister. Ten minutes past and she wasn't here, you allowed a little leeway due to her job but another fifteen minutes was pushing it without a phone call. 

You waited a little longer, ordering another mimosa whilst you sat there alone before you finally spotted your sisters car pull up against the sidewalk.

In her passenger seat, sat someone you’d never seen with Dinah before. He had white buzzed hair and strange red scars all over his face and neck. 

“Shit, (y/n), I’m sorry!” Dinah exited the car and rushed over to you. 

You watched the man behind her slowly get up and round the car, leaning against the door watching you both with dark eyes. 

“D, what’s going on?” You asked, worry filling your face.

“I’m stuck at work still. I left my phone at the club by accident and couldn’t call.” Dinah explained, 

“So no lunch?” Your eyes couldn’t help but pass Dinah again to the man stood behind. He was distracting... Alluring almost. 

“Ignore him.” Dinah stepped in front of your view of him and brought your attention back to her. “Look, I’ll make it up to you, okay?” She pulled out some cash and you refused it. 

“It’s fine. Shit happens. You can take me for hangover breakfast tomorrow instead?” You suggested, Dinah briefly hugged you and apologised in your ear. 

The man lifted a cigarette to his lips as your chin met Dinah’s shoulder and you caught a glimpse of something shiny in his mouth. 

“If I don’t see you before you go out, text me when you need a ride.” Dinah backed away from you and clutched her car keys in her hand. 

“Don’t worry about me.” You brushed her off as she seemed slightly stressed about missing your birthday lunch but also because she was even seeing you. Roman must be a strict boss if she was worried about spending five minutes off the job. 

When you were getting ready to go out, your girlfriends came over and you all swigged at your champagne and occasional shots of tequila as you got ready. 

You applied your lipstick and fixed your dress as the alcohol buzzed inside of you. 

“You ready? Black Mask Club here we come!” One of your girls whooped which made the rest cheer along with her.

“You know we can’t go to the Black Mask. Dinah asked me not to since its her work––” 

“––You always gonna listen to Dinah?! You’re 21! Break those rules already!” With that the girls won the argument and dragged you out the apartment to the Black Mask club.

You felt the nerves bubble inside of you as you queued up for the club but when the bouncer let you inside, you forgot everything Dinah had said before. 

“Holy shit.” You gawked at the interior of the club. Red dominated the most of the club with black hands everywhere including two large statues with eyes on the stage. Living in the east end of Gotham and never really having much money all your life meant you had never seen something so fancy before. 

“Drinks!” The girls dragged you towards the bar and for a split moment you took a second to notice the man from earlier sat inside a booth with a group of women and one other very well dressed man. 

He noticed you too. 

The girls were busy ordering what seemed like hundreds of drinks from the bartender as you continued to observe your surroundings. 

“My guests of this evening! Please listen up!” A man’s voice boomed through the club causing the music to quieten and everyone to face the well dressed man from earlier. 

“That’s Roman Sionis.” Your friend whispered, wiggling her eyebrows at you, knowing you'd find him attractive. 

“It’s come to my attention that we have a birthday girl in the club this evening! Can Miss Lance please come forward?” You froze at Roman’s request but your friends soon ushered you forward. 

“Miss Lance! Happy Birthday! May I asked how old you’ve turned today?” Roman clasped his leather clad hands together as his eyes finally found you. 

“Twenty-one.” You felt your cheeks go red as everyone stared at you. 

“Can everyone give Miss Lance a hand? And free drinks for Miss Lance and her friends for the rest of the evening.” Roman raised his martini glass up into the air. “Happy Birthday Miss Lance!” An applause followed and your attention was stolen by Roman’s employee with the scars as he let out a loud whoop and clapped along for you. His eyes attached to yours.

“My, my, Miss Lance. I would have never known you were our very own Miss Dinah Lance’s little sister unless Mr Victor Zsasz here mentioned that he saw you earlier where your sister was unfortunate to miss your birthday lunch today.” Roman approached you as the girls handed you a drink. 

The man with the scars was whom Roman called Victor Zsasz. His eyes made something inside you flutter as he stared at you with such an intensity. 

“Yeah, we don’t look similar at all really. Different Moms.” You explained, feeling weirdly anxious around the charming man. 

“Well, enjoy your evening, Miss Lance. You look absolutely darling tonight.” Roman tipped his glass at you like before. You smiled thankfully at the man and watched him walk away. 

Zsasz remained stood on the spot, looking you up and down with his hands behind his back before Roman was quick to call his name. 

“Happy Birthday, little bird.” Zsasz muttered, his voice just as deep and magnetic as his look. 

“What was that all about?” One of your friends grabbed your arm and squealed, giddy at the event that just took place and the idea of free drinks all night. 

“I have no idea.” You laughed with your friends before heading to the dance floor. 

You couldn’t help but notice Zsasz watching you as you danced and you didn’t mind putting on a little show. 

You drank and danced for a couple of hours before your sister started to call you. 

“Shit. It’s Dinah.” You yelled over the music. 

“Ignore it! We aren’t done here yet!” Your friends retorted. 

“I can’t! She’s called twice now! Something might be wrong!” You always trusted your sister and you knew you’d be mad if she ignored you if you had called several times. 

You took your phone and half empty glass out onto the smoking area of the club. 

“D?” You shouted trying to be louder than the noise around you. 

“I just wanted to make sure you had died of alcohol poisoning yet.” Dinah responded, 

“No, I’m all good! I’m having a great time! You never told me how lovely your boss is! He’s giving me free drinks because it’s my birthday!” You let it slip before you even realised. 

“You’re at the club?! (Y/n), I told you out of every bar in Gotham that the Black Mask Club was the one I didn’t want you in! How could you just blatantly ignore me?!” She was angry. 

You bit down on your lip and frowned.

“What’s wrong, birthday girl? Nothing should be bringing you down on your birthday.” A strong hand had taken your phone and ended the call for you. 

It was Zsasz. 

“It was my sister. She’s mad because I came here when she asked me not to.” You pouted, the alcohol making the guilt you felt worse. 

“Don’t be sad, little bird.” Zsasz ran his finger across your cheek, his eyes glued to your face. “I got you another drink and something to bring you up.” 

You took hold of the glass and the pill from the man but hesitated to take it. 

Your wide eyes looked up at him as he took the pill from your fingers and placed it against your lips.

“That’s a good little bird.” Zsasz purred as you let him put it on your tongue. “Now swallow it.” 

You did as you were told and Zsasz flashed a golden smile at you. 

“Come on, let’s go inside.” He took hold of you hand and guided you inside and that’s what you could remember. 

When you opened your eyes it took you a few seconds to realise where you were. 

Your arms were restrained to the chair you were sitting on and so were your ankles. 

You were in Roman’s club but it was dark, not like earlier, the lights were almost all off and a single spotlight focused on you as you noticed you were surrounded by men in suits and guns. 

You fidgeted in the chair, the ropes were really tight and your throat and mouth felt bone dry. 

“Roman?” You squinted in the light to see him swagger towards you with Zsasz by his side. 

“I’m sorry about this, Miss Lance but it’s just something I have to do.” Roman responded, 

You heard the door beside you open and you came face to face with your sister.

She was being held by a large man who you recognised as security with a gun pointed to her ribs.

“Songbird! Welcome! Finally!” Roman burst into his persona as soon as he saw Dinah. 

“What’s going on, Roman?” She asked, looking between you and the man. 

“You see, little bird, you’ve been working for me now for years and it’s come to my attention that I never knew you even had a sister.” Roman stated, circling his finger so that Dinah could be sat down to listen. “It made me wonder, what else didn’t I know about you?” 

“You never asked if––” Dinah was trying to defend herself but Roman snapped. 

“I asked about your family once years ago and you said you didn’t have any.” Roman argued, whether he was telling the truth or not didn’t matter. You shouldn't argue with Roman Sionis. 

“I’m sorry. It must've been when (Y/n) had moved out for a little while. We had a fight. I didn’t expect to see her again.” Dinah quickly came up with something. It was true what happened but you only lasted 24 hours away from Dinah before you came running home apologising. You two were all you had and neither of you actually wanted the other gone. 

“How do I know I can trust you, little bird?” Roman pondered, “You’d never betray me, would you?”

“No. Of course not. I’ve been working here for years, Roman, you can trust me.” Dinah was trying her best to remain calm but seeing you in that chair tied up wound her anxieties.

Zsasz walked up beside you and his smell suddenly engulfed you. 

You closed your eyes, licking your lips to push back the dirty thoughts going through your mind. This was not the time to be getting turned on. 

You opened your eyes when you felt a cold metal touch on your skin under your jaw. 

“Prove it.” Zsasz tilted his head to Dinah. 

You looked up at him, the adrenaline running through you making your chest rise and fall noticeably fast. 

“Leave (Y/n) alone. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. She doesn’t have to be apart of this.” 

“Oh, I know you will.” Roman stated almost casually, “I believe you, little bird.” Roman then started to approach your sister, standing directly in front of her with his back to you. “But in order to trust you, I have to give you a warning.”

With the word ‘warning’ Zsasz had the knife on your upper thigh, slicing a deep line across the skin. 

You cried out as your sister yelled your name. 

Security had to hold Dinah to the chair she was in to stop her from lunging to you.

“Consider this the warning. You betray me. You betray her. ‘Kay?” Roman was still smiling through all of this. 

Zsasz cut the rope behind you loose which allowed you to apply pressure to the cut on your leg. 

Blood streamed down your thigh to your ankle and into your shoe as tears stung your eyes. It was deep and would scar, you could already tell. 

“I’ll see you soon, little bird.” Roman pulled off his gloves as he walked away from the scene. Not even bothering to look at you as he left. 

“I told you not to come here.” Dinah rushed towards you, grabbing some napkins from a nearby booth to help with the blood. 

Zsasz then followed Roman. 

You had to go to the hospital and get stitches for the cut which hurt almost as much as the knife due to their shortage of numbing cream. 

“I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t drank so much and let the girls drag me in there.” You apologised as you entered the apartment. 

“Don’t.” Dinah held up her finger, silencing you. “Just don’t.” 

You watched her walk into her bedroom and slam the door shut. 

Leaving you alone. 

You sighed, returning to your own room to get changed out of last nights clothes.

A few hours went by when you finally heard Dinah move from her room.

You chased after her as she stormed from the apartment, slamming the door.

“D!” You shouted down the hallway but she was already on her way down the stairs, still ignoring you.

“Dramatic.” A voice behind you made you jump, spinning around to face whoever it was. 

“Guess you really pissed her off, huh?” It was Zsasz. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, cautious of the fact that this was the man that just added permanent scar on your leg. 

“Tell your sister that she’s expected back at work first thing tomorrow.” Zsasz brushed past you, goosebumps tickling across your arm as it connected with his. “See you around, little bird.” 

Zsasz stepped backwards away from you, towards the stairs and something in his eyes told you that he meant it. 

Next Part Coming Soon

[sanders-sides-fics]

In My Dreams: Chapter Two

Warnings: food mentions, Deceit (named Dorian here)

Masterlist

Word Count: 2204

Author’s note: I will be reblogging with the link to AO3, which will also be on the masterlist!

-

Virgil fidgeted uncomfortably in his spot at the main table next to Remy. Even once the court was seated, he could feel the eyes on him. When he looked out of the other tables, he could never see who was staring, but he knew they were. He was sure it would be worse if he caught someone staring at him.

The crown felt heavy on his head as he looked around again. Logan had advised him the weight would be unnoticeable once he wore the crown enough, but combined with the feeling of being watched, it felt heavy and very uncomfortable.

“Not hungry?”

Virgil looked over to Remy and shrugged, “It’s weird being on this side of things.”

“Nothing to do with lords that keep looking at you?” Remy asked. “I got that too, the first time we had an event at the castle after the attack.”

Virgil frowned at him and made a point to move around some of the food on his plate around with his fork, just to make it look like he had eaten. He could still feel the eyes on him and that helped nothing.

“Why did they stare then?” he asked quietly.

Remy shrugged, “To see the poor little orphan playing prince.”

Virgil wrinkled his nose and set down his fork. He glanced around the feast hall once more. Nothing had changed. Lords and Ladies still chattered at each other as servants bustled around as Virgil had every time there was a feast in Sandres.

“Did they not like you?”

Remy scoffed, “No, they just wanted to feel some pity. Got it out of their systems real fast. Now, eat up.”

Virgil turned back to his plate and tried to eat a bit. He still pushed things around before settling on the roast beef. He picked up a juicy piece with his fork and bit into it. It was good, but he preferred how his Dad made it. He hoped he was okay without Virgil there to help him in Sandres. Virgil would have to write to him soon and try to figure out how long he should wait before he made a visit.

He kept eating quietly until his plate was mostly cleared. As he ate, he listened to Remy and Logan’s discussion of their trip to Sandres and what steps would be needed next. Remy suggested that they could arrange trade between the kingdoms to foster the relationship and Logan smiled proudly.

“We could write to King Thomas to make arrangements tomorrow,” Logan said. “What do you think, Virgil?”

Virgil startled at the mention of his name, “Um, it sounds like a good idea? What do we have to trade?”

Logan smiled approvingly, “We have our fabrics and fruits. Meat from the northern border and salt from the east and south.”

“Salt?” Virgil asked.

“From our lands bordered by the ocean,” Logan explained. “I can show you a map after the feast, though I often find myself pulled into the dances following dinner.”

“That’s because you’re still not married,” Remy teased.

Logan raised an eyebrow, “As are you, due to my refusal to allow for an arrangement for your hand as your regent.”

Remy shivered at the mention. Virgil watched curiously, pondering what Picais was like under Logan’s reign as Regent.

“I would never marry someone so tasteless,” Remy commented. “She didn’t know matean from silk.”

Virgil tuned out the rest of the conversation as the conversation dissolved into gentle teasing. Before he knew it, the plates were being cleared from the table and the court began to stand from their seats to move to the ballroom. Remy tapped Virgil’s shoulder and offered his hand to guide him out of the feast hall.

“If you need to get away, go to the library. No one usually goes there during our feasts,” Logan advised. “I have gone there a few times to hide myself.”

Virgil smiled, “Thank you.”

Virgil made sure to think of where he knew the library was from the brief tour the night before. It sounded like the perfect place to escape to. Virgil took Remy’s offered hand and followed his brother to the ballroom.

Remy smiled at him, “Do try to mingle for a while before you run off to the library, alright?”

Virgil rolled his eyes at his brother as Remy let go of his hand.

“What makes you so sure I will?” he asked.

“Brotherly intuition,” Remy answered.

Virgil snorted, “Yeah right.”

Virgil looked around the ballroom as his brother walked away. There wasn’t a single face he recognized beside Remy’s and Logan’s. He wasn’t surprised by the lack of familiarity, but would need to grow used to the idea of it being expected.

He went about the room, ducking his head with care not to lose the crown. He had never experienced a feast where he was being served instead of being serving others, but perhaps it would not be hard to cruise through the night near the wall, talking to the servants.

Was he avoiding his court? Yes, but he would also like to know those that were serving him and his brother. They were just as important as the court members, Virgil knew a castle couldn’t function without its servants from experience.

“Prince Virgilius!” a voice exclaimed excitedly. “I’ve been hoping to catch you all night!”

Virgil flinched at the outburst and turned to face the person who called his name. Before him stood a heavy set man in bright green. The man bowed to him and smiled.

“Hello?”

Virgil wasn’t sure how he was to acknowledge this. He had seen Roman dance around the ballroom and talk with nobles frequently, yet the mannerisms fled his mind as he looked at this man.

“I am Sir Gary Ashdown, your Highness, I worked with your Father, the late King Dorian,” he explained. “It is an honor to meet you and see you returned to us alive and well.”

“Thank you,” Virgil said, fidgeting.

“That’s all I wanted to say, your Highness. I look forward to seeing what kind of leader you’ll become.”

With that Sir Gary turned and disappeared into the crowd of nobles.

Virgil wasn’t sure what to make of that conversation, but guessed the rest of the night would be full of them if he stayed in the ballroom. Quietly, he made his way to the hallway, sticking close to the servants as he walked, knowing most nobles ignored them unless they needed something during a feast.

Virgil walked down the halls, trying to find the doors he knew lead to the library. The main floor was much smaller than the one in Sandres’ castle. If anything, this would make the search much easier on him.

He kept walking around until he found the door Remy had shown him the night before. He opened the door and the candles around the room all flickered to life. He jumped back and looked around for someone who could have done so.

“Hello, Prince Virgilius.”

Virgil yelped and back to the door again.

“Sorry, sorry,” an older woman stepped out from the shelves. “I am Mavis, I am the caretaker of the library. My eyesight is not very good so I do not use the lighting system, but when I heard you, I started it.”

“Light system?” he asked.

Mavis smiled sweetly, “Your father created it with his magic. He was a talented fellow.”

Virgil looked around at the candles, “They’re magic?”

“They are. He created them when he grew frustrated from trying to carry books and his candle around at night. Too stubborn to ask for help,” Mavis smiled. “Solved his issue quickly.”

Virgil nodded, “It seems.”

He glanced around the library. Wondering if he could find anything from King Dorian’s life or study within the library.

“Shouldn’t you be at the feast, my prince?”

Virgil awkwardly shrugged, “I just… got overwhelmed. I wanted some quiet. Can I look around?”

“Of course! This is your castle, dear,” she reminded.

Virgil smiled and walked into the array of shelving to see what he could find. Many of the texts were unfamiliar to him. He picked a book off the shelf and examined the cover. The cover had an intricate design of flowers and vines surrounding the title, “Guide to Herbology and Medicine”.

Virgil opened the book curiously and flipped through a few pages. The pages were old and worn, clearly studied meticulously. As he turned the pages, a leaf fell from between the pages. Virgil knelt down to pick it up and place it back into the book.

Kneeling on the floor, he reached for the leaf and took it into his hand, something sticking out from under the shelf catching his eye. He grabbed the item as well and stood up. He put the leaf back into its book and replaced the book on the shelf. Virgil then examined the item.

It was a leather bound book with pieces of paper sticking out from pages. Virgil walked over to a table with the book and sat down, before wiping the thick layer of dust off of the book and untying the string around the book. He opened to the first page, curious yet not expecting anything from the plain covered book.

On the first page of the book was written Dorian Picani in a neat script. Virgil’s eyes widened and put his finger on the page to trace along the name. He wondered what one of his fathers’ books was doing under a library shelf…. He could ask Remy…. After he’d gotten the chance to look through the book himself.

He flipped to the next page and began to read.

I haven’t spoken to Emile about the possibility of Virgilius’ developments becoming permanent yet, hoping that it is residual magic from being carried by a magic user, as Remy’s were. If the developments continue and do not disappear, I will need to tell my husband before something happens. I haven’t noticed anything permanent yet.

Details of developments:

1.  Speaking to spiders in the castle:

            This could be due to developing magic in my son, or this may be antics of a toddler. I will be watching for these interactions as he grows older.

2.  Levitation:

            Levitating objects that he wants, such as his bottle or his stuffed animal. The heaviest thing he has lifted is a large story book so that I could read from it for a bedtime story. This is undoubtedly a sign of magic.

Similar instances to these occurred when Remington was still toddler, but he grew out of them by age two. Virgilius is approaching his third birthday without a cease of magical activities. As the day grows closer, I will continue monitoring my son. The traditional test for magic is still years away but if these instances do not cease prior to Virgilius reaching ten years of age, it will merely be a formality.

Virgil’s eyes widened as he read on, reading his father’s words about him and his magical development. The King seemed anxious about something the more he went on about Virgil’s powers. Now that Virgil had faced the Dragon Witch, he understood that worry. King Dorian had feared her finding out about his son’s abilities…. Fears that were justified when Virgil considered his family’s fate and the Dragon Witch’s final actions in Sandres.

He flipped through more pages, coming across more stories of his powers and listings of what he could do before his loss of memory. As it became clear that these powers came from Virgil’s own magic, the King’s tone changed to fondness as he described what he did to teach Virgil.

Virgil paused in his reading to examine a page that was entirely full of scribbles and mysterious splotches of ink. After a moment, he flipped to the next page and looked for an explanation.

Virgilius’ masterful use of a quill and ink. Today is the first day he managed to steal my journal without my notice and begin to take his own notes on his magic. Upon an examination of his input, I have found it extremely valuable and will ensure the page remains within my journal for further use.

Virgil smiled at the note, relieved to see his father did not punish his younger self for the instant. A tinge of sadness pulled at his heart, knowing he would never know the man who spoke so fondly of him. He shook his head and continued his read through.

“Virgil?” Remy’s voice called through the library. “Are you in here?”

Virgil closed the book and looked around for a place to hide it. He knelt down and quickly put the book back where he had found it, vowing to retrieve it later when he could sneak it to his room. He wasn’t sure why he was hiding it from Remy, but it didn’t feel right to share it just yet.

“Yeah, I’m over here,” he called, standing up.

He stepped out from the shelves and walked toward his brother.

“I’m sorry, I got a bit overwhelmed by it all,” he explained.

Remy smiled softly in sympathy, “At least find anything interesting in here?”

Virgil shook his head.

[alextriestowritestuff]

Mark of Athena Re-read

Hey guys! If you’ve been keeping up with my last couple of posts, you’ll know I’ve been re-reading the Heroes of Olympus (HoO) series by Rick Riordan, starting with the Son of Neptune. If you want to my thoughts on it (spoilers included) and my background with the series, click here. I made a little bit of rant post about my feelings about the HoO series overall so far and you can find that here! This post will be about the Mark of Athena (MoA) and as always, spoilers abound.

Soooo y’all...I think this book is worse than the Lost Hero. I feel so bad for saying that bc I hated tLH (Like I’d give that book 2 stars) but god, this was so bad. No wonder I forgot what happened when I originally read it. Before I get into it, I will say I’m usually not negative in my ‘reviews’-I’ll give credit where it’s due (I did that in tSoN with Hazel and Frank who weren’t really my fav characters to start with) but this book has very little redeemable aspects imo. So I’ll start with the thing I was most irritated about: Piper.

Piper...Piper...Piper. Gods, none of her chapters ever passed the Bechdel test. I DESPISE her and I hated every single one of her chapters. With characters like Frank, I admitted that sometimes his chapters were a bit boring but I never hated the guy’s narration. Piper, however, is an insecure hypocrite. Let me show you.

So at one point, Annabeth, Piper, and Hazel meet up with Aphrodite. The POV is Annabeth’s and while Aphrodite is talking to them, it seems like Piper is just embarrassed to have her around. 

“Mother!” Piper said. “You’re embarrassing me.” “Well, I don’t see why,” the goddess said. “Just because you don’t appreciate my fashion tips, Piper, doesn’t mean the others won’t. I could do a quick makeover for Annabeth and Hazel, perhaps silk ball gowns like mine—” “Mother!” 

And a few lines later she says again “ ‘Mother, Piper said, “is there a reason you’re here?’” (30). 

Okay so someone tell me why this girl says 10 pages later “But also, Piper was secretly hurt not to have her mother to herself. Aphrodite had barely looked at her. She hadn’t said a word about Jason. She hadn’t bothered explaining her conversation with Reyna at all. It was almost as if Aphrodite no longer found Piper interesting. Piper had gotten her guy. Now it was up to her to make things work, and Aphrodite had moved on to newer gossip as easily as she might toss out an old copy of a tabloid magazine” (40). LIKE GIRL MAKE UP YOUR MIND. Do you want your mom’s attention or not? But I’m highkey interested in what Aphrodite said to Reyna tho.

Let’s talk about Reyna for a second. First off, I feel so bad for her?? Percy turned her down-fine, he has a gf. Then I thought Jason had feelings for her but he says this in MoA, page 19: “It’s just…I never felt that way toward Reyna,” Jason said, “so I didn’t think about its making you uncomfortable. You’ve got nothing to worry about, Pipes”. Like damn can Reyna get any love?? I get that he doesn’t like her anymore since he met Piper but to have never liked her? That’s rough. And notice how this quote is from page 19, but again on p. 40, Piper is still so insecure in their relationship. I don’t she’s listened to a word he said at all. Then towards the end of the book, she says oh I love you but she literally didn’t know the man’s age prior to that. Like what?? Did they even kiss this book? I think like once lmao. Also speaking of the birthday thing, Piper says this while she waits for Jason to blow out his birthday candles.

“Well?” she urged. “Blow out the candles.”

Jason did. Piper wondered if he’d made a wish—hopefully that he and Piper would survive this quest and stay together forever. She decided not to ask him. She didn’t want to jinx that wish, and she definitely didn’t want to find out that he’d wished for something different. 

Me @ Jason: This your girl? Come get her. Because Imma hurt her feelings. What do you mean you want him to wish to stay together forever? He should wish for Gaea to you know die so everyone can be safe. If I ever met Piper in person, I’d fight her. ON SIGHT. 

In a related note, I’ve got nothing to say about Jason. He was fine. He passed out alot during this book, didn’t do much for how hyped his powers are supposed to be. I will say when he and Percy were possessed and they fought each other, Percy totally won that fight. He knocked Jason the hell out and was about to end his whole career until Piper got Blackjack to knock him out. But overall, I think Jason’s rather bland and him and Piper have NO chemistry. But I don’t think he deserves insecure Piper as a girlfriend. She’s a whole ass child of Aphrodite and she’s worried about her relationship...let me move on.

My main issue with the book lies in the structure and plot. The previous two books had 3 narrators and each set of trio had a specific prophecy assigned to them-i.e: Percy, Hazel and Frank had to free death, retrieve the eagle. The prophecies are a catalyst to get them to go on the quest. And then obviously, we have the overarching prophecy of the seven that will come to fruition in small chunks until the last book of the series. That’s fine. So the issue with MoA is that now Rick is handling seven characters + Coach Hedge (like why was he necessary??). He has 4 POVs which threw me the hell off bc we had 3 in the previous two books and honestly, I think we could’ve gone without one of them (Percy’s actually). As a writer, it’s hard to balance multiple characters in the same setting constantly. If they have a conversation, one or two of them will have less lines because other characters have already said them. Therefore to give everyone adequate ‘screen time’, Rick had to separate them by keeping groups of three or two on their own side quest. As a result, however, reading the book felt like I was being brake checked constantly. Ex-We follow Percy, Frank, and Hedge to an Aquarium then we follow Annabeth, Hazel, and Piper to meet Aphrodite, then they encounter the Romans, then Piper and Jason meet Hercules and get the horn and so on. Like they’re constantly shifting and doing stuff but not going as a group so it feels like I’m constantly trying to catch up. There’s too many pit stops for my liking. And I deadass have no idea what most of it had to with the MoA prophecy. 

This disjointed-ness is what makes me rate it lower than tLH. Because while I didn’t like Piper or Jason in that book, it was still cohesive. There was a plot and it was followed. Another reason I might feel this way toward MoA is because Rick has a formula and it’s starting to be predictable. Think about the original Greek myths-there’s one main demigod like Hercules, there’s a quest, there’s godly interference so it makes sense the the PJO/HoO characters have the same thing. But all this talking to gods (esp gods we’ve already met like Aphrodite) is taking up so much space and slowing the plot. It also didn’t help that the minor villians in this book are all unlikeable?? All they did was talk. Otis and Ephialtes. Porchy and Keto. Arachane. All they did was talk. Here’s how to defeat a PJO/HoO villain: con them to help you/let you go or fight them. That’s it. 

This book is where I started to really regret reading the series. Like I was just over it. The plot was somehow slow and all over the place at the same time. The last couple of chapters were good because I was like finally, something relevant to the prophecy is happening. 

Let me leave you guys with some positives about this book though:

1. Annabeth’s POV. What a gal. When she faces Arachane, Annabeth mentions that she doesn’t have an active power like the other Seven but she has her intelligence. And I’m like yes girl, you are brave and everything I want to be. I would read the PJO series from her POV over this series.

2. Percabeth. They kept promising to come back to each other and my heart melted. Percy was so worried about letting her go follow the Mark but he knew it’s what she had to do and he let her go. And ugh, them falling got me all over again. And like just their chemistry is off the charts. Piper and Jason could never. 

3.  Percy’s comments about Luke. Percy realizes that he’s around Luke’s age when Luke went all ‘Gods are bad, their children are pawns’ and like I get chills from reading that passage because you can tell Percy’s tired. He can’t have a life because of these quests, he’s constantly moments away from dying. He never really got a chance to be a teenager. And I get he wants to help people and keep the world from being taken over by bad guys but he’s also human. He’s seen demigods die...he’s traumatized. Like Percy, I really understand Luke better now (right idea, wrong execution) and l see how tired Percy is. 

4. The Leo/Hazel/Frank disaster of a love triangle. Like I’ve mentioned before, I want Hazel, a THIRTEEN YEAR OLD child, to be left the hell alone when it comes to romance. But because Uncle Rick insists on pairing up everyone, I have to oblige. So here I am. The amount of times I cackled at Frank and Leo’s digs at each other is astronomical. Like shots were fired, no one held back. I was like is this even MG/lower end of YA anymore with all this salt?? Over the years I’ve been spoiled about the series so I know that Leo somehow ends up with Calypso so I know nothing will come out of the love triangle (and it seems to be wrapping up bc Leo and Frank complimented each other’s abilities toward the end there) but passive aggressive-ness was peak. 

5. Every single conversation between Reyna and Annabeth. Like two powerhouses talking about wanting to save their camps and the world. I loved it. Hands down. I hope they can be friends when this is all over. 

6. And lastly, the reunion of Percabeth. The Judo flip. The fact that Percy talked about having a future with her. 

Thanks for reading if you made it down here and I’ll see you guys in a couple of days with my House of Hades update. This book and the one after it I’m reading for the first time ever so I’m going in semi blind (like I said, I know some spoilers). I’m currently on chapter 2 or 3 of that and ermm, it was a weak intro but I’ll keep going :) rooting for Percabeth to make it through.