#i think maybe that spelling was more common in the author's time but i'm not used to it :/

[bookpdf]

also speaking of books. one of the ones i'm reading rn is a 1000+ page behemoth and the author spells "nonetheless" as "none the less", and i keep wondering how much shorter the page count would be if it was corrected

[featherymainffins]

*potently insane* I should re-read Monster by Naoki Urasawa

[leadyoutothelight]

Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia

This wasn’t supposed to be your place in life, you were the second daughter, a spare given to the temple of Minerva to serve as one of the many temple maidens. But when your father comes to you, telling you of your sister’s sudden passing, suddenly you’re thrust into a new role. Expected to fill her place in a political marriage to the famed General Marcus Acacius Rome’s beloved war dog.

Rating: Explicit +18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: Dubious Consent/Coerced Consent, Age Gap (no specified ages), Virginity Loss *discomfort mentioned, no blood* , Implied physical abuse from a parent, Patriarchal world and expectations of women, Grinding, Unprotected p in v sex, reader is a virgin, first time sex *please let me know if I miss anything*

Word Count: 8k

Author Note: Hello, first time writing for a Pedro Pascal character, but finally saw Gladiator II and I couldn't resist writing this! Please note, there is very little research into Rome actually done, I'm not writing this based on historical accuracy, just had an idea and wanted to write it. The title is based off a common Roman wedding vow meaning, Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia.

Please let me know what you think!

-

Your sister is dead, you shall be the one to marry General Acacius. 

It had been the most your father had ever spoken to you in your entire life, the most he’d even looked at you. 

Being born the second daughter of a noble family is about as important as a new pair of sandals. Especially when you were the last born of five, and three of the five being boys. Your father was more than happy to direct his attention to his sons and his wars. Your sister and yourself were content to live in the house learning from your mother, waiting for the day your father drafted a marriage contract and sent you to a new household. 

Until it was decided that in a bid to gain the gods favor you were given to the temple of Minerva as a temple maiden, at ten you were bundled up with your few worldly items and left to the Priestess' devices. 

It was a sudden and chaotic change. But after the first year you found, you didn’t mind this new living arrangement. Yes, you had chores now, and you needed to share things. But you grew to like your new home with other women and girls working in the temple. Learning the day-to-day needs, and expectations of your new home. You flourished, and your mother and sister visiting every now and again helped you settle as well. 

The last time you’d seen your sister she’d been an excited mess talking the whole time of her engagement to General Acacius, that they’d be wed as soon as he’d returned home from another conquest.

“Just think sissy, me, a famed general’s wife!”  

Her eyes glowed in the lamplight as she’d clutched your hands in hers. You’d given her a smile and a nod, as she went on and on. Whilst you’d thought to yourself that you’d be stuck cleaning the temple floors for the next week due to staying out longer than allowed.

“You’ll be there right?” 

Her question pulls you out of your glum thoughts, and you give her a wide eye-scrunching smile. You don’t have the heart to disappoint, maybe with your father’s status you can ask for the time…

A pain twinges through you at the thought, the high priestess had been kind, giving you the time in exchange for you doing more chores when you returned. 

But today, a day you expected your sister to visit, with her finished bridal veil in tow. You expected to ‘oh’ and ‘aw’ over her hard work, compliment her delicate needlework, ask her jokingly which parts your mother had helped with. To comfort her, she’d mentioned fainting spells had started since the date had been announced. 

Maybe you’d even offer to bring her into the inner sanctum to ask the goddess to protect her, and her future husband. To give her calm in the coming ‘battle’ of marriage. 

But now you sit across from your father. A beast of a man, skin tanned and leathered from the sun. Scars criss-cross along his arms, you resist the urge to glance at his left pinky. Where only a ghastly stump sits. 

His voice brokers no argument, yet, you can’t stop yourself.

“What do you mean?” 

He blinks, those dark eyes boring into you, and you see a flash of anger, mixed with surprise. Again, your existence has been a fleeting one in your father’s opinion. He was the one who sent you here…he was the one who gave you to the gods. He can’t just–take you back. 

“I wasn’t aware you were an imbecile–” 

“I’m not, but you cannot take me from the temple–from Minerva herself–” 

“I have made the appropriate tithes and the priestess herself has granted your hand–”

“I am to serve the goddess, that is what you–”

“And now you shall serve the family!” It’s the way he stands, the clatter of the chair he once occupied. The roar of his voice, the one you know he uses to order his troops into battle with. You cower, well aware that this rage is one you don’t survive. 

Tears brim over your lashes, and you bite your cheek to stop yourself from arguing further, here in the temple, you are free to share your opinions. Voice concerns, even vent frustrations, rare luxuries in this male dominated society. You’ve found you enjoy the thrill of conversing, and theology the other maidens and priestesses provide. 

But now, that’s all being taken, when you’re so close to the priesthood. To take the sacred robes of Minerva, learn the sacred rights. Bless soldiers, generals, and emperors in their great conquests for the Roman Empire. 

That was your purpose, your place in this world. Being born a woman was a curse in this empire, but here you were safe, here you could make a life. 

“You shall be collected in the morning, the wedding will take place in a week's time.” 

That tone again. One brokering no peace, no argument. The voice he commands thousands with, and you are one of them. 

The next morning passes in a blur, your few things taken by slaves. You’re barely given enough time to hug the girls, and women you’ve come to see as your new family. Careful to hide your tears as the High Priestess stops you outside the temple doors. 

“Go with Minerva’s blessing,” her voice is soft, though there is an edge to it. You don’t respond, for fear that you’ll fall to your knees and beg her to stop this. Claim Minerva’s hold over you, refuse your father’s demands. 

But she won’t, your father is a powerful man, marrying you to another powerful man, and not even the goddess of war can prevent it. 

You’re whisked away on a chariot handled by one of your father’s trusted soldiers. A clear warning to behave, the city passes by. A few of the bustling crowds pause to watch you entourage, but it’s fleeting, they return to their day-to-day lives as it's nothing new to see a noble pass in their gilded transports. 

A blink and you’re home. The home you hadn’t seen in years, still a marbled behemoth, a villa of luxury befitting one of Rome’s finest generals. The sandstone pillars glow in the mid-afternoon sun. Banners the color of blood mark the door, along with coal black braziers that will be lit when the sun disappears behind the mountains. 

Awaiting you is a group of slaves, heads bowed, they drop to kneel as you are escorted from the chariot and into the house. 

It’s barely changed, since you last ran about the halls, as a wild precocious child. Tripping over your feet to follow your older brothers. The large atrium, with a lapis lazuli lined pool. Filled with various plants your father brought home to your mother. More braziers and torches line the halls. 

Gold, and weapons decorate the walls, all of them spoils of war taken by your father. Silk curtains billow in the afternoon wind, and distantly you smell the incense your mother uses throughout the villa. 

Your sister used to smell of it, well, the incense and rose water. A pang ricochets through your chest.  Her voice doesn’t greet you, and you’ll never hear it again. Instead it’s the rush of silks, and the patter of feet, and your mother enters the atrium, in the warm glow of the sun she shines. 

Dark hair in tight ringlets cascading down her back, her eyes shine with unshed tears. She stops seeing you in the entrance, then her arms spread wide, and like a child you rush into them. 

She smells of her personal fragrance of jasmine, and cinnamon. The mixture your father had gifted her after a long campaign many years ago. She buries her nose into your hair, fingers threading through the tresses. She presses a quick kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Mama,” you whimper into her bosom, and she shushes you. Pulling back, her hands cup your face, thumbs brushing against the apples of your cheeks. 

“Well, not the way I expected my beloved child to return to me but,” another kiss is pressed to your forehead. Her lips are soft and warm, tears well and threaten to spill a lump gathers in the back of your throat. “I am grateful to have some time with you again.” 

 For a moment, you’re grateful for the reprieve as well. But it’s short lived. She ushers you into the house, into her personal chambers. Where she sits you on the lounge, it’s darker here. Not as many windows, and most of them blocked by curtains. 

The incense is thicker here, and you stifle a cough as you settle into the dimness with her. 

“Oh my dear one, how I’ve missed you.” She smiles, and again her eyes take you in. Just as you do her, she’s aged in the years you’ve been gone. Where once was smooth skin, you see wrinkles in the corners of her eyes. The creases of her lips, a few grey hairs decorate her dark curls. 

“I’m sorry it wasn’t under…better circumstances.” You mutter, fingers toying with the robes you had left in. They’re still the temple robes, a simple woven woolen tunic. Good for completing chores, and easy to move in. 

Not like her opulent robes, her pure white muslin, with a deep blue dyed sash. A golden belt cinching in her waist. Her smile falters, a look of pain crosses her expression. 

“Y–your sister fought hard against the sweating sickness,” her voice wavers, and tears spill over her lashes, smudging the kohl lining her eyes. “But, she has been given her last rights, and she rests now in Elysium.” 

You nod, your chin quivers, as your own tears rain down from your eyes. Your mother tuts, and leans forward her hands warm and soft, unlike your now calloused fingers and palms.

“She would not want us to mourn–” 

“But Mama, she wanted this,” you gesture to the room of grandeur around you. Feeling your mother’s gaze watching you as you struggle with your next words, “I was promised to Minerva–to the gods!” 

You stand beginning to pace as you consider everything, and are finally able to do so.

“She should be here, I should be at the temple, learning the rites, blessing soldiers–”

“My darling you’re here now,” your mother’s voice is firm, a tone you recognize as her warning, and just like your father you know she’s not going to entertain you abandoning this marriage. “Come.” 

She offers you a bedecked hand, rings, and bangles gleaming against her skin. All the finery a woman could want. Sullenly you take her hand as she pulls you beside her, her hands take yours in a solid grip. 

“Your sister’s passing was a tragedy, but the gods have smiled upon us, in that Acacius is willing to continue the betrothal with you,” her voice is soft, you stare at your clasped hands. She’d done this before, when you’d first been promised to the Temple of Minerva. 

How strange to be here again, a child begging her mother to see reason and send you back. She pulls your hands up to her lips, pressing a warm kiss to them, as more tears spill from your eyes. Rolling warm, and wet down your cheeks. 

“I don’t want to marry him Mama,” a soft sob leaves you, and you bury your face into her shoulder, losing yourself in her smell once more, you forget how much you’ve missed her. Missed this, just being with her, but there’s a hollow feeling inside of you, your sister should be here, and that makes more tears form. Another tut and her arms wrap around you, a hand goes to your cheek, another to your back. “I was happy at the Temple.” 

She hums low in her throat, the hand on your back rubbing soothing circles against your spine. She is warm, and solid, a soothing presence and she lets you weep. You don’t know how long you cry for but finally the hiccuping sobs ebb and you calm. 

She pulls back her hands returning to your cheeks as she takes in your red eyes, and tear-streaked face. 

“My love, I will say this to you, I understand more than you know,” she brushes a stray strand of hair out of your eyes, curling the wayward pieces behind your ear. “I know the fear of marrying a man, much less a military man.” 

You sniffle as she gives you a weak smile. “I swore to the gods, I would never commit the sin of marrying one of my girls to someone like their father.” 

She pulls back, her hands resting on her lap, your tears have dried and you sigh, nodding, face downcast as you consider her words. 

“I swear my love, I know your sister dreamed of love, and of a grand marriage, I assure you that General Acacius is a good man,” her fingers lift your chin and your eyes meet, she gives you a final wistful smile, “it may not be a marriage of love, but…maybe it can be a marriage of equals.” 

-

The next week passes in a blur, and suddenly it’s the hour before your wedding. The final adjustments to your sister's dress are being made. You stand alone, a slave placing pins in the areas the garment might drag. 

Silently staring at the reflection in the copper before you. You don’t recognize the girl in the reflection. Your hair has been styled in the traditional bridal braids. A golden hairnet pinned against your scalp, a few strands have managed to escape. Make up paints your skin, mica shimmers on your eyelids, kohl darkening your waterline. 

The slave pauses in her adjustments, she glances up with a fearful look. 

“M–my lady, I’ve run out of pins–” 

A spark of your father’s rage courses through you, of course it doesn’t fit you it was meant for your sister. 

“Go fetch some then!” 

You don’t mean to snap but your nerves are shot as it is. She jumps and with a fearful bow leaves the room. Alone you slump, staring at yourself, unwilling to keep staring at the stranger before you. Your sister truly spared no detail, the embroidery along the edges is her finest work. With golden thread painstakingly sewn into the edges, when it catches the light it almost seems to glow like fire. The main shawl dyed a deep burgundy, is decorated with words of protection, along with her favorite flowers, pale lilies blooming along the skirt. 

I want him to think me a goddess made flesh. 

You hear her in the back of your mind, and wonder…if you should have admonished her. Maybe her vanity was her downfall, and the gods sought to correct her error. Tears spring to your eyes at the thought, no, they couldn’t have. 

She was good, and kind; her only wish was to marry and give her husband strong sons. Now she lays alone, and cold in the family crypts. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud chorus of calls from the atrium.

You hear it somewhere below, the revels have begun. The boisterous voice of your father as he jokes and cajoles with his old war fellows. The wine is flowing freely tonight, he has much to celebrate. 

“-it’s a good thing you had another one!” 

A laugh from your father as he claps someone on the back. 

“Ha! The only thing a second daughter is good for!” 

The rage sparks again, and before you can stop to think, you’re grabbing a jar of perfumed oil. Throwing it with a shriek, it lands with a satisfying shatter against the copper mirror. The thick liquid drips to the floor in a dark puddle on the sandstone. 

Your outburst has called attention to the crowd, a few moments of silence and your mother appears with the slave who left you. She gives a withering glare to the woman, who cowers, before turning her gaze to you. You clench your fist ready to fight, the rage in you growing, daring your mother to say something, anything.

“My love–” there is no time to admonish you, as a great rushing of horses and the wheels of a chariot sound, along with calls from the atrium. 

He's here. 

Before you can think your mother and the slave rush to finish the last minute adjustments, and finally the fine veil is placed over your head. You're dragged through the halls, almost tripping on the skirt, that’s still too long for your legs. 

Your sister’s belt is cinched so tight it cuts into the soft fat of your stomach, at least an old pair of your sandals fits, one of the only things of yours on you tonight. Your mother stops you just outside the atrium. The crowd is rowdy, the sweet smell of wine, the smokey herbs of the many roasted beasts, and finally the mixture of the florals from the many bundles of your sister’s favorite flowers fills your nose.

It’s beautiful, and your sister would have been beaming. You feel your stomach churn, your mother’s fingers rub soothingly along your arm, but it doesn’t quell the fear to run, the deer forced into the hunter’s trap. 

You don’t want to, but your eyes search the crowd, none of your brothers are in attendance. Your mother mentioned that all had been called away to far reaches of the Empire, one a rising commander in his own right. Another a promising scholar in Alexandria, and the last is a Senator, most likely schmoozing with the twin emperors to gain more political favor. 

Of course none of them felt it dire to come to their younger sister’s funeral, and the other’s marriage. You’re not surprised…though maybe a bit hurt, after all…they should have at least come home to give your sister her last rights. But even that is too pitiful a request compared to their great lives.

There are others here, all your father’s friends, and their wives, entertaining themselves with food and drink. Dressed in the finery expected for nobility, none of them take your attention for too long. 

You see your father speaking animatedly with someone you don’t recognize. He wears the traditional Generals uniform, the armor a pitch black, with the extravagant golden embellishments. A long red cape, fastened at his shoulder, you almost wonder if the man came straight from campaign. 

Then again…the twin emperors have been insistent that their empire grow, and the General has been the ever faithful war dog. You’d never met him in person, only the high Priestess of Minerva could bless the generals before a campaign.

You are loath to admit it, but he's handsome. In a rugged way, a strong jaw, full lips, a proud nose, with tanned skin. His beard is shorter but well kept, and his hair, was probably once a deep brown, has greyed and silvered with age, is kept in neat curls. 

His eyes remain on your father, but as if the gods enjoy your torment, seem to feel your gaze upon him. He turns, and those eyes the color of polished mahogany lance through you. 

For a moment you forget to breathe, forget to think. Those eyes take you in, just as you had done moments ago. But it’s short lived as your father spots you, and your mother. 

“Ah! Acacius, your bride arrives!” He leaves the General to come usher you over, you’re grateful for the veil, the fabric is thick enough it hides your face, so he can’t see your face very well, can’t see the panicked look in your eyes, as your father yanks you from your mother’s protective grasp. 

You want to reach out to her, to claw your way back, scream, dig your fingers into his eyes till he releases you, but resist. As he pushes you to the General, up close he’s nothing like you thought. He bows his head to you with a soft, “my Lady.” 

You respond in kind with a low bow and a muttered, “my Lord.” 

And with that the ceremony begins, with Acacius taking his place besides the officiant. One of your father’s many senatorial friends. 

Your father’s grip is a painful shackle around your wrist, the stump of his left pinky digs into your arm. 

“You will do well to make him happy girl,” he snarls beneath the music, his gaze burning a hole into the side of your skull. “It’s because of me, he accepted you, remember that.” 

You bite your cheek, the taste of copper filling your mouth as you ignore the remark, in favor of staring at the man who will take his place. 

The ceremony is short, the officiant stumbles over your name, as he clearly practiced for your sister’s name. It makes the ache in your chest grow, through the ceremony you feel the General’s gaze upon you as the final call for the gods to bless your union is made. 

“General, you may now reveal your bride, and take her to your home as is commanded by the gods.” 

Your heart has leapt from your chest to your throat as his hands take the veil and lift, revealing your face to him. 

Your eyes meet his, and he stares silently at you, those dark eyes taking you in, he leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. His lips are soft, the rasp of his beard against your skin sending a chill down your spine. The kiss is quick, emotionless, before pulling away, he glances to the side, you follow his gaze. Your mother stands beside your father, tears stream down her face, and your heart breaks seeing her in such despair. 

“Take a moment with your family, I will collect you in a moment.” 

You don’t waste a second rushing away from him to your mother’s arms, she collects you with a soft sob. You can’t help the tears that spring forth. 

“My love, my dear,” she weeps into your hair, and you cling to her, a little girl once more. Afraid of your father’s anger had you broken something, or worse he had come home from a failed campaign, and no one would be spared from his rage. 

She would be alone after this, alone with only your father for company, and he barely stayed home long enough to acknowledge her. She presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Please…Mama, please,” a whimpered plea into her bosom, where your tears stain the silk, you look up to her eyes wide and terrified. “Don’t let him take me.” 

Her lower lip quivers, and more tears spill from her beautiful eyes, she shakes her head, her answer, and it cleaves your heart into two. She can’t stop this, no matter how much you beg, plead, all she could do was make sure he was a good man. You feel it then, Acacius’ arms wrap around your middle, the shriek that leaves you is animalistic, your fingers claw into your mother’s dress. 

“No! Mama! No!” It only takes one pull from Acacius for your mother to release you, your fingers pulled from her dress by your father. So you go to the next best thing, his arms, nails dig into skin. He grunts, the only sign of his pain, as he hauls you away from your mother who wails in chorus with your panicked shrieks. 

Your mother collapses, her palms slapping against the marbled floors in grief, your father just stands there, no better than a statue. No one will comfort your mother tonight…though you hope, somehow your sister will. That her spirit will curl about your mother’s form and give her rest. 

Or maybe she’ll spare you the horrors of the wedding night, but as you struggle uselessly against Acacius you know neither of those things will happen. As he drags you from the atrium to his chariot. You struggle, scream, and cry a final plea to Minerva to intervene. 

But alas she does not answer, and you're dragged from the safety of your mother’s arms and to Acacius’ villa where your wedding night awaits. 

-

It’s quiet in the spacious bedchamber, as you consider the marble flooring beneath your feet. Acacius hasn’t appeared since he placed you here. You don’t know how long it’s been, but you’ve ripped the veil and golden hairnet off. Your hair remains in its painful tangle of braids, you’re unsure of how to get them out without help. 

You take in the room around you, and from what you could see of Acacius’ villa like you thought it’s a luxurious home, maybe even greater than your father’s. 

You take in the fineries here, golden chairs and marble-topped tables. The fires of the braziers warm the room comfortably, and a soft breeze from the outside keeps the air fresh. The light of the fires gleam off the cups, and decanters of wine placed about the room, even the bed silks are a fine fabric you’ve never felt before. You absentmindedly run your hand over the softness, considering your options. The bed is pushed to the farthest wall, a behemoth of dark wood, and fine muslin curtains. 

Large windows line the eastern wall, to let in the light of the morning, and doors lead to what you can only assume is a terrace. Your legs twitch as you consider rushing to the doors, seeing how far the drop is, escaping into the night, the General none-the-wiser. 

But the idea is foolish, he’s a General with thousands at his beck and call, you are a noble girl, raised in the halls of a temple…You’d get no further than the city gates if you’re lucky. 

Your thoughts are interrupted as the sounds of footsteps echo into your silence. Your head snaps to the noise, a deer suddenly aware of the danger lurking somewhere in the trees.

He stands in the doorway, orange light of the fires play over his face, his eyes black pits, face unreadable. Your heart stutters in your chest, as you both consider each other. 

He’s removed his armor, though it does nothing to soothe you, he still stands with the rigidity of a military man. Prepared for battle should he need to be. You consider fighting him, but it’s a laughable idea. 

He could kill you with a flick of his wrist if he so dared, but he hasn’t moved closer. So you both remain silent, observing. 

It is a tense standoff, both of you sizing the other up, Acacius makes the first move. Taking a chair and settling into it with an exhausted huff. 

You tense, watching him as he takes a cup and decanter, pouring a healthy swig of wine, before drinking deeply. He leans forward, elbows resting against his knees, his fingertips trace the rim of his cup. 

“I am pleased to see you haven’t run yet,” he gives a humorless chuckle, and takes another drink. “I will say, this is not how I expected my wedding night to go.” 

You remain silent, waiting for his next move, he doesn’t say anything for a moment staring into the cup with a pensive look. 

“Those braids look uncomfortable,” those umber eyes meet your gaze. You can’t find your voice, so you nod. He sets the cup aside and stands, you can’t help your gaze falling to his exposed legs. The bunching of his muscles beneath his skin, the subtle strength there as he approaches you, a subtle grace to his movements that years of swordplay, and war-making has refined. The glow of his skin in the firelight, paints golden highlights along his flesh. 

A clearing of his throat stops your exploration, your gaze snaps up to Acacius, he gives you a small gesture to turn around. Tense you follow his directions, a moment of indecision, before the softest touch against your scalp. 

You can’t stop the yelp that leaves you, and the jolt of your body. The touch leaves, and there is a sigh through his nose. You wince, awaiting the strike that’s sure to come. 

Acacius surprises you again, a hand cups your chin and turns you to face him. You’re shivering, and fearfully you look up at the General. 

“I–I’m sorry–” 

“I promise, I will not strike you my Lady, I just want to unbraid your hair.” His hand is warm, his fingers large, and his palm is rough with calluses from holding a sword. You try not to notice how his hand easily encompasses your lower jaw. You nod, and again turn away. 

This time when his touch returns you steady yourself. For such large fingers, you’re surprised at their delicate caresses. As he finds the pins, and ties that keep your bridal braids in place. Slowly the pain of the too tight braids are relieved. 

His touch is gentle, the final braid is undone and he takes a moment to card his fingers through your tresses. A ripple of something courses through you, goosebumps alight along your skin. He chuckles, you finally find your voice. 

“Thank you, my Lord.” 

He doesn’t answer, instead you feel the brush of his knuckles against your cheek, again you jolt away. 

You know what must be done tonight, but you had hoped, and prayed, that he’d busy himself with his something, anything else. That you’d be forgotten and left to your own devices for the night. Acacius sighs through his nose, disappointment clear in his tone. 

“It is our wedding night—”

“I know my Lord–”

“I do not wish to force you.” 

The statement silences you, your heart pounding in its cage as you clench your fists in your lap. 

“My Lord Acacius please–” 

“My Lady,” he kneels beside you, one of his hands easily encasing both of yours. You resist every urge in your body to pull away from him, to scream, shout that you won’t allow him near you. “Your father told me, he would visit in the morning, to assure his daughter had done her duty.” 

You will give him this, he looks disgusted at the prospect, those full lips pulled into a grimace as he considers you. You glance down at his hand over yours, before meeting his gaze again. 

“Lord Acacius please, I was given as a child to the Temple of Minerva, I have no…no sense of the things required of a wife.” 

You press forward, one of your hands leaving the captivity of his to cover it. He seems surprised at the touch, glancing down at your hand before meeting your gaze again. His eyes are beautiful, and considering him for a moment, you recall your sister’s voice. 

He’s handsome sissy, you would agree. 

You can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes, you do agree, he’s handsome. A part of you was jealous that she remained at home, with your mother. But after settling in the temple you knew this life would never be yours, and some small part of you…knows that hint of jealousy still lingers, somewhere deep in your mind. It would have grown a bit more seeing who she married today. 

“You can learn–”

“I was given to Minerva,” you snap, a spike of your father’s rage, Acacius’ brows lift, a flash of surprise crosses his face. The hand beneath yours tensing. 

“What’s done is done, and your father would sooner kill you then return you to the temple.” 

His eyes darken and your shoulders slump, he’s well aware of your father’s reputation then. Well aware of the violence he so easily wielded even when not in battle. 

“But you could return me–” 

“I do not intend to.” 

That statement leaves you bewildered, and scrambling to come up with something, anything for him to change his mind. He leans forward, in the glow of the braziers he looks otherworldly, and you can’t find your voice. 

“I swear to you, I shall be a devoted husband, and I am willing to give you liberties in this union,” you consider silently, gaze going from his eyes and to his lips, “I cannot give you all the freedoms priesthood promises, but you will want for nothing.” 

You bite your cheek, searching his umber eyes for any hint of a lie. His other hand comes up once more to cup your cheek. This time you do not flinch from his touch. 

“I can make it pleasurable for you,” heat rises to your face as his thumb brushes over the apple of your cheek, “but this union must be consummated tonight, as the gods demand.” 

The silence between both of you is thick, he’s right, you know he is. There is no way you will be able to return to the temple, it is either death or Acacius. 

I swore to the gods, I would never commit the sin of marrying one of my girls to someone like their father.

Your mother’s words ring out in your mind, you close your eyes to stop the tears forming there, and nod. 

“I need to hear you,” he whispers, he’s moved closer to your face, the warmth of his breath ghosts over your lips. “Please, my Lady.” 

“I–I accept Lord Acacius, but–” you don’t know why it tumbles from your lips so freely, “but please, I don’t want it to hurt.” 

His lips press to yours suddenly, your eyes snapping open at the touch. The kiss is quick, he moves on from your lips to your cheek, then jaw, ending at your neck. 

You gasp as his tongue slips from between his lips, wetting the skin above your pulse. A heat rushes through you as his lips suck on the skin there, teeth nipping. 

Your fingers turn to claws as they grasp at his tunic, his hands shift easily, one going to cup your head. The other around your waist pulling you against him. His lips continue their exploration of your neck, finding new bits of flesh that he attends to. 

Pulling noises from you that surprise you, as a feeling courses through you, like you're hot and cold at the same time. You can feel your pulse between your legs, his mouth shifts further up your neck, Acacius pauses at your ear. 

“As we are going to be husband and wife,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, his lips sending electric zaps along the cartilage. You shiver as his voice drops to a rasp, “please call me Marcus, can you do that?” 

He nuzzles into the corner of your jaw, giving the skin another nip, a soft keen leaves you, as the nip sparks with a soft pain before dulling to a throb. As your fingers flex again in his tunic, unsure if you want to pull him closer or push you both apart. 

He has to be doing something, must have given you something, for this–feeling, this sensation to be burning through you. 

The hand at your waist is quick, fingers plucking at your sister’s belt, and it releases with a soft clink. The soft leather falls away, leaving your dress to sag, heat rises again to your cheeks and you squirm a moment. 

Acacius’ hand in your hair tightens, and for a moment you fear you’ve angered him. But all he does is move lower, the tip of his nose trailing down your neck, along the path he created with his lips. 

Marks of varying colors have bloomed across your skin, before stopping just above the cut of your bodice. Those deep brown eyes meet yours in silent question, you give a nod. The pulse between your thighs is growing. 

He works quickly finding the folds of your dress that keep it around your shoulders and covering your breasts. The silk falls away, you move to cover yourself, only the other temple maidens, and the priestess’ had ever seen you naked. 

Embarrassment fills you, should he see you, but Acacius is quick, his hands find your wrists. The short tussle sends you back onto the bed, Acacius hovering above you. He positions your hands beside your head. For a moment you consider fighting once more, thinking he intends you harm, but freeze as you see his eyes explore your newly exposed flesh. You can feel every touch of his gaze as he takes in the swell of them, your nipples pebbling in the sudden chill. 

“M–Marcus–ah!” 

Saying his name spurs him into his next move, his face descends and he presses a kiss to your sternum, then shifting to your right breast. The scrape of his beard on your skin sends flutters of pleasure through you. 

A surprised moan leaves you as his lips find your nipple, pulling the hardening bud between them, sucking lightly your body convulses. Your eyes roll, the muscles of your abdomen clench, fingers twitch digging into his knuckles as he keeps them pinned. You gasp, back arching, pressing harder into his mouth. As if your body begs for more of the sensation. 

“M–Marcus,” you whimper his name as his tongue swirls around the bud, and gives it another suck, toying with it gently between his teeth. “Marcus please!” 

Your mind is becoming a fog, unsure of what you’ve begun to beg for, but the pulsing between your thighs has grown almost painful, and even as Acacius switches to your other breast giving the neglected bud the same attention. 

You squirm, thighs pressing together, another soft moan leaves you as the pressure gives some relief. Acacius pauses in his attention to your breast, his eyes are changed, that umber brown swallowed by the dark of his pupil. He presses kisses to the swell of your breasts, before asking, “What do you need of me my Lady?” 

You whine struggling to understand his question, as your thighs writhe, you bite your lip whimpering. 

“You said it wouldn’t hurt–” 

“Where does it hurt?” His reaction is quick, he returns to your face pressing a kiss to the underside of your chin. “Tell me.” His breath is warm, and smells of the sweet wine he indulged in before all this. 

“B–Between–” it feels foolish to say it, to mention the heat between your legs, the strange throb that’s continued to grow since he began to touch you. 

“Where?” he asks again, another soft kiss to your jaw. 

“Between my legs,” you whine, the writhing of your thighs no longer offering the necessary relief. You feel feverish, unwell, your stomach tightening uncomfortably. Acacius huffs a laugh against your neck, he releases your hands trailing his fingers down your arms. Over your breasts, where he pauses a moment to toy with your nipples once more. 

Your body reacts back bowing, pressing yourself into his palms, Acaius hums appreciatively, before his hands delve lower. Pushing down the rest of your sister’s wedding gown, you’re left bare to him. 

Again the embarrassment of it floods you, but Acaius is quick to stop you, laying on his side, he pulls you against him, one hand cupping your hip, cradling it  between his legs where something rubs against you, your other hand nestled between your bodies, the other splayed to the side finding purchase in the sheets. 

Acacius pauses taking his bottom lip between his teeth whilst considering you. 

“I promise this will make the pain go away,” he whispers against your cheek, and you nod, half mad with the overwhelming sensations devouring every coherent thought. 

“Please.” You whine, and his hand slides between your legs, a noise leaves you that’s closer to a howl than anything. The rough pads of his fingers find your clit, two circle the bud slowly, teasingly. Before pinching it between them, your hips buck into his palm. He groans softly into your hair. Your fingers grasp at the sheets, the sudden onslaught of pleasure leaving you reeling in its wake. 

Only a few garbled pleas, and his name can leave your lips, it’s all your mind can remember to say. As his fingers release your clit, and return to swirling in indiscernible patterns around the sensitive bundle.

It feels like too much, the rough stroke of his finger pad against your clit, your fingers close around his wrist. 

“W–Wait–” your tongue can barely form the words, it’s too much, and if he keeps touching you like this, you fear you’re going to break. A sensation you can’t name growing in your belly, the throb between your legs. The wetness there drips down your thighs, staining the sheets beneath you. 

“T–too much, it’s too much.” Acacius hushes you, the muscles of his wrist flexing against your palm, as he continues his pattern. Every touch sends bolts of lightning up your spine, clouding your thoughts. 

“It’s alright, let it come,” he whispers against your throat, the rasp of his beard adding another feeling that makes your body ache. Muscles bunching, toes curling, your mouth opens in a silent scream as something washes over you. Overwhelms you, your nails dig into his shoulder. He muffles a noise into your collarbone. 

This must be the gods, or death, or–or something. Your body convulses, the throbbing between your legs pulses with every beat of your heart. Eyes rolling in your skull, Acacius groans as you settle. Something hard presses against your hip, but you're still caught in the undertow of whatever spell he’s placed you in. 

“M–Marcus,” you whine, as his finger toys with your clit again, the feeling borders on painful, as the touch causes another throb to race through you. “Wh–what did–” 

“To help with the next part,” he hums, his fingers leave between your legs. He pulls away from you. Body shivering at the loss of his warmth, the solid form of his body against yours, and you feel more exposed than ever before. A deer caught in the line of Diana’s arrow. As those soft umber eyes look over your exposed flesh, pausing at the swell of your breasts heaving with every breath. He pulls instantly at his wedding tunic, shucking the last article of clothing off. 

His skin is a sun kissed tan, and scars lace across the expanse of his flesh. Swords, spears, knives. All manner of brutality has marked him, as your gaze travels lower you stop. The hardness you felt against your hip, long, with a mushroom-like head, a pearl of fluid leaking from the tip. It bobs with his breathing, veins pulse along the shaft, it looks painful. You pull your hazy gaze to meet his, and your breath hitches. 

His eyes gleam in the firelight, he reminds you of the towering Jupiter, or Mars. A god made flesh, and your heart stutters as he kneels on the bed between your legs. That fear returning full force. You stumble, and scramble in the sheets. They stick to your sweat-coated skin, and you can’t escape as he settles over you. 

Caging you beneath his form, you struggle, Acacius traps your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

“I will go slow,” he whispers, as again, tears brim along your lashes. His thumb rubs the hollow of your cheek, in an attempt to soothe. It doesn’t, as your heartbeat spikes, and your hands go to his chest weakly. His skin is rough, the scars knotted and strange against your fingers. He makes a noise low in his throat as your hands splay over his flesh. 

“But–I thought–” he settles between your thighs, you look into his eyes, pleadingly, a gasp leaves you as his length brushes against your core. He grunts, and his length twitches, you feel it, sudden and foreign. You squirm, and a hand lashes out grabbing your hip to still you. 

“Be still,” he whispers through clenched teeth. It’s a command and you listen, forcing your eyes closed, his hand leaves your hip to trail between your bodies. For a moment you think he only means to pleasure himself, but you tense as the head of his cock brushes against your cunt. 

“Acacius what–” you're silenced by the pain, though his previous ministrations helped, he’s large. The stretch of him entering you burns, your fingernails dig into his flesh, as if that will quell the pain of him entering you. 

You can’t breathe, can’t think, as all your mind can focus on is the stretch of his cock filling you. The way his length spears you, opening you, a soft whine of pain leaves you. Acacius huffs above you, the fingers beside your head curl into the sheets. He leans down forehead against your shoulder. 

“So tight,” he rasps, he almost sounds to be in pain as well. You think for a moment, maybe he’ll stop, that it’s too much for him as well. But he presses on, inch by painful inch he opens your cunt. “I’m sorry.” It’s whispered to the flesh above your heart, his lips brush the skin, sending a jolt of something through you once more. Just when you think you can’t take anymore, he settles. You whimper feeling the press of his hips between your own. 

“Acacius, please…” You don’t know what you’re begging for, as the uncomfortable fullness settles. You swear you can feel every part of him, the throb of his cock as it rests heavy and thick in your cunt a warm sort of pain that lingers behind your navel. His cock twitches and you jolt, Acacuis grunts above you, again that hand returns to your hips. 

“Y–You must be still,” he gasps, your fingers flex, you glance down, seeing the red half moons  where your nails dug into his flesh. You silently hope he felt a bit of the pain he put you through. “Tell me when it stops hurting.” 

You glance up, those eyes giving you pause, he’s watching you. Taking in every wince, every hiss of breath as he remains still inside you. For a moment you consider lying, telling him it’s too much, but as you both remain there you feel it. The burn subsides, though the fullness remains. 

You take your lip between your teeth considering him, the greatest General of Rome, waiting for your lead. You shift, and Acacius gasps, your cunt flutters around him. He shudders above you and his length throbs again inside you. 

“D–Don’t–move,” he pants his fist clenching again on your hip, his head lowering to press his forehead to your shoulder again. A stutter of breath against your skin. “Does it still hurt?” 

A whispered plea into your breast, you hesitate to answer him, fearing another onslaught of pain. His voice is soft, as his hips give a subtle thrust, “I swear my lady, I will make sure we both find our pleasures.” 

A choked noise leaves you, as his pelvis grinds against your clit, your cunt walls quiver around him. Acacius gasps, his arm shakes, and you whine. 

“Please–” he grunts, “tell me I can move.” His dark eyes meet yours and your lungs refuse to breathe, your heart stops beating for a moment, and the world slows. His skin shins with a layer of sweat, he’s trapped his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Move,” a whispered acceptance, Acacius takes it with fervor, pulling his hips back, your head falling back into the softness of the sheets. You feel every inch of him, every pulse of his veins as he pulls from your soaked core. 

Acacius curses under his breath as he begins a steady, hard rhythm. Every thrust of his hips sends new shock waves of bliss up your spine. Your cunt flutters around his shaft, with every thrust he seems to plunge deeper. 

Your legs shift, thighs settling on the solid form of his hips, the movement making you tighten. Acacius gasps, you feel it, another pulse of his cock. He grunts a hand moving from beside your head to between your bodies. Fingers finding your clit again, you keen, toes curling as another wave threatens to overwhelm you. 

“Are you close?” He huffs, his hips continue in their thrusting, his fingers dance along your clit. Your eyes can hardly focus on the man straining above you, all you can offer is another high pitched moan, your hips beginning to rise to meet his thrusts. 

Acacius groans again, his arm shaking as he pistons into you with a gratuitous fervor, the sounds of your coupling fill the room. Your skin shines with sweat, as does his, those eyes meet yours as he grits his teeth. 

His fingers press against your clit, and his cock thrusts so deep inside of you that for a moment you see stars. Your body stills, you forget to breathe for a moment, you think a scream of his name leaves you, as your back arches pressing into Acacius who shouts. 

Your cunt quivers around his length, you feel a warmth as his cock throbs inside of you. Both of you remain still, breath returning in soft pants as your vision returns to you. Acaius huffs above you, his hair, once well styled is mussed about his face. But you think distantly that it suits him, he leans down pressing his forehead to your chest. 

For a moment you wonder if you will have to remain like this, until with a slow movement Acacius pulls from you. A whine leaves you, as he pulls from your cunt. 

You lay on the bed, eyes closed, sweat cooling uncomfortably on your skin. None of your muscles wish to work, and you don’t sense Acacius still in the room. 

You’re shocked to feel…disappointment worming its way into your mind, after everything you should be grateful that he’s left you be. 

But you’re surprised again as his footfalls sound, with a tired blink you open your eyes and glance up. Acacius has put on a robe, and he kneels beside the bed with a rag, he takes his time cleaning you. 

It reminds you, for a moment, of the baths in the Temple where you would clean, and help clean other initiates. His hands are careful as he reaches between your thighs, noticing you tense he’s gentle. Careful of your still sensitive core the roughness of the rag makes you whine, hips bucking away from it. His hand steady's you as he works.

The rag cleans away the wetness that drenches your thighs, and butt. He finishes his cleaning, and then moves to lift you from the edge of the bed to the middle, carefully tucking you into the soft sheets. Your body doesn’t respond to anything, not even the want to help him does it respond, until he turns to leave. 

“Marcus,” your voice is soft, unsure, but he stops and turns looking at you, “aren’t you…going to stay?” 

His eyes seem to lighten at the question, he bows his head, “Would you like me to?” 

You nod, and he relaxes moving back to the bed he settles in beside you, careful not to move you too much. You don’t mind it though, you notice that his sheets smell of jasmine. You huddle into the sheets, staring at the general silently. 

And you consider…this marriage my not be one of love…but maybe…of equals.

[mwahsturns]

First choice // Matt Sturniolo Pt 1

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

Contains: cussing, fluff, flirting, talk of death, Semi-proof read! I think that’s it let me know if there’s more! Also if there’s any grammar or spelling mistakes please ignore them 😭🙏🏻

Synopsis: Y/n works at a record store and one day while she’s working two very cute guys walk into the store but one especially catches her eye and later so happens they end up having more then just there music taste in common ;)

Word Count:1,890

Author’s notes: Hii bbys !! <3, So I’ve never written a fic before or posted on tumblr, So I’m sorry if this is bad I’m new at this please go easy on me😭🙏🏻. If you guys have any suggestions, tips or advice please message me I hope you enjoy my new series!!, this took me a very long time to come up with so I hope you love it💗.

* *:･ﾟ✧💒*:･ﾟ✧

The sound of music always brought me peace, I work at a record shop because I love being around vinyls and just anything music related really. I also really enjoy reading It's always brought me a sense of comfort as well as writing and poetry. Honestly it makes me really happy, and ever since I was a kid I've always written songs and maybe sang a little bit but that’s a secret. I don't know what it is but I always feel like it helps me forget about everything that’s wrong in my life, my parents died when I was 16 so it’s always been just me and my two little brothers. I love them more than anything and I'd do anything for them. Today was just a regular day at work I was putting vinyls on the racks that they go on when two guys walk into the store, I look over and give them a soft smile.

‘hii welcome let me know if you need any help finding any artist or vinyl specifically’ they smile at me and nod as one of the boys catches my eye, I’m a very shy person so I decided not to say anything unless I needed to. After a couple minutes I felt a tap on my shoulder, I turned around and saw the guy who caught my eye standing in front of me. ‘hi um i wanted to ask you something’ he seemed very nervous but also very confident weird mix. ‘yes of course how can i help you’ I smiled softly at him hoping to make him more comfortable, ‘do you happen to have “circles” by Mac miller’ he says as he does a side smile. I smile at him as I think about how I also enjoy mac miller.

‘yea over here!’ i walk over and pull it off the rack, ‘this is one of my favorites’ i say chuckling, ‘i really like this one’ he says turning the vinyl around. ‘what other artists do you like?’ ‘i really like d4vd and um frank ocean oh! Omg Dominic Fike omg Tyler the creator?! is so amazing and oh my god i'm rambling im so sorry’ I blushed getting a little nervous, ‘nah you're good’ he smiles as I look up at him and smile softly. We stand there until the guy he came with comes up to him ‘woah you guys twins or am I dumb?’ ‘nahh triplets’ he says laughing ’oh cool” i say and start checking them out. ‘You're the first to not ask us a million and one questions about being triplets’ he chuckles, ‘yea nah y'all will tell me over time’ I smirk i say with my boston accent coming through a little.

‘oh so you plan on getting to know us’ he smirks a little ‘oh totally y’all look cool’ I laugh, ‘you're from boston?’ The other guy says noticing my backpack in the back with the Boston logo. ‘yes i am’ i laugh ‘us too!’ ‘What's your name?’ The guy who got my eye says ‘I’m y/n’ ‘cool im matt and hes chris’ ahh Matt hot guy hot name. ‘cool!’ I hand them the bag and me and Matt make eye contact, ‘have a good day’ ‘thanks you too’ matt says smiling at me. They walk out and i really hope i see them again.

* *:･ﾟ✧💒*:･ﾟ✧

  I finally got to clock out of work It was so tiring and I needed to make sure my little brothers were ok. I get to my car and get settled in and connect my phone to the aux and play “Ivy” by Frank Ocean. I’m so glad to be going home I think as I started driving I decided that I was gonna pick up a pizza for my little brothers because I got paid today and I know how much they love pizza. We aren't broke completely but we definitely struggle sometimes recently things have been rough but I finally got a promotion so it's getting a little easier I got the pizza and started heading home I got home and when i opened the door and my brothers cody and alex run up to me and ‘sissyyyy we missed you’ alex says hugging me, ‘aww i miss you too bud’ ‘sissy you bought pizza!’ Cody says looking like his eyes are gonna pop out of his head. 

 

i walk over to alexa who’s been my best friend for years, she helps me with my brothers and just around the house ‘thank you so much lex’ i say hugging her ‘Of course love that's what best friends are for’ she says smiling softly ‘wanna spend the night and when i put them to bed we can talk?’ ‘yeah okay sure’ Alexa smiles at me while i feed the boys.

I start to give the boys a shower and as i’m showering cody he looks up at me with the biggest smile on his face. ‘sissy I wanna be just like you when i grow up.’ He says playing with the bubbles, ‘aww little c i love you a lot bub and i know one day you’ll be even better than me’ i say tearing up, cody has always been more clingy to me than Alex is but not as much, cody doesn’t like to leave my side and he is the sweetest kid ever. Him saying he wants to be like me does hurt a little because I've been through a lot of shit but the fact that I look strong in his eyes makes up for it all. I put them to bed and Me Alexa got some wine and took a seat on the couch.

‘So how was your day?’ She says sitting next to me. ‘it was good omg lex these two really cute brothers came into the shop and oh my god girl’ I say blushing thinking of Matt ‘speaking of cute brothers you know the guy i was talking to?’ ‘yes why?’ ‘this is him and his brother I’d think you like him’ she turns her phone and pulls out a picture.

‘hold up hold up let me see that?!’ i say taking the phone from her ‘omg thats the cute guys that came in today’ ‘Omg?! yeah i've been talking to chris for a minute now’ ‘matt’s pretty attractive just sayin’ I couldn’t help myself but blush i don’t know what’s wrong with me fuck Y/N get it together. ‘oooo y/n has a crush?’ ‘oh shut the fuck up’ ‘oh come on you haven’t had a boyfriend since your parents died’ she says starting to get serious, ‘i know but my brothers mean the world to me lex i need to make sure there ok i don’t have the time’ I would love to give Matt a chance but i don’t know.

‘your brothers would want you to be happy y/n/n’ she says rubbing my knee, ‘I know but it's not about me being happy i need to make sure there happy i have to be a mother figure to them they need me’ ‘i get that babes but you need to remember you lost them too your only 20 rasing two kids you need to be a kid too especially since you were forced to grow up so quick’ i look at her and nod I mean I understand where she’s coming from but my brothers are all I know. ‘i love you y/n i'm just looking out for you ima head to bed goodnight love’ ‘night babes’ as she walks off and goes to into the guest room i kinda sit there think about what she said and i mean she's right but i can’t risk something happening to my brothers.  I head upstairs and head to bed because i have another day of work but holy fuck thank god it's friday. 

* *:･ﾟ✧💒*:･ﾟ✧

I woke up the next morning only because my alarm for work went off and i see it’s 9:44 so i know Alexa is getting my brothers ready for school I get out of the bed and i started to get ready for work. I finished getting ready for work when my younger brother Cody came into the room with tears in his eyes. ‘sis…’ he says in a sad tone I turned around quickly and scooped him into my arms ‘aww what's wrong love?’ i say concerned.

‘i don’t wanna go to school i wanna stay home with you can you please skip work..’ he says in a whiny tone, ‘Aww bub i wish i could help but you know the rules’ When i got custody of cody and alex the court gave me really strict rules to follow, i had to make sure they were always at school, they weren’t falling and that i kept a stable job and make enough money or else they would take them away. ‘I know but i hate being at school kids are mean to me and alex’ i look at him feeling bad but i don’t wanna risk losing them. ‘I’m sorry bub if i could keep you and alex with me 24/7 forever i would’ i say hugging him tightly.

* *:･ﾟ✧💒*:･ﾟ✧

i got to work over an hour ago and to say its boring is an understatement. Just as i think that i hear the bell ring meaning someone walked into the store, i look up ready to greet them and i realize its matt. ‘Matt? Hey’ i say smiling. ‘Hey um i know this might be weird but i um.. Well so my brother chris the one that was with me last time uh i found out that the girl hes been talking to happens to be your best friend right?’ ‘yeah shes my best friend’ ‘well um she kinda encouraged me to come back..’ ‘what do you mean?’ ‘well i uh wanted to see if you were willing to go out with me… you don’t have to its o-‘ he starts to say but i cut him off. ‘Sure why not’ i say smiling i don’t know what happened but he was too sweet for me to say no to.

‘Wait really?’ ‘yea i mean i can’t deny you are pretty cute..’ ‘well thank you’ he laughs damn something about the way he laughs i dont know but it feels almost addicting to listen to. ‘Uh are you free saturday?’ ‘yeah i am’ i smile ‘sweet! Ill text you’ ‘okay bye matt’ ‘bye” he blushed a little bit as he left the shop. Shit who’s gonna watch cody and alex?!                                                                   

Author’s notes:heyyy I’m back! So I hope you enjoyed the first part of this series and I’m sorry if there was any typos, spelling mistakes, etc I’ll try to fix the ones I can if I miss anything please let me know but I hope you enjoy and have a great day 💋

[withered-rose-unbreakable-lotus]

About Sophia's origin

Ok so I'd like to clear this up cause when I make mistakes I admit them most times. Some time ago I made a post about Sophia and my being pissed that even though she appeared Greek, Reverse's team didn't seem to have tried as hard to find a native or sb with an at least understandable accent for her Greek spell but it appears this wasn't necessary because Sophia is most likely not Greek (or she's half).

For context, when the current patch came out I could guess from the aesthetic the inspiration would be either Greek or Roman and then by the focus on Pythagorians I could tell it was indeed Greek inspiration, but I didn't expect there would be a single character that'd actually use the language, like for example French characters do. So when it did I was excited but also disappointed cause unless you read the subs, you couldn't tell what Sophia was saying.

Anyway long story short, from Sophia's mentions in 6's story, she appears to be Anatolian. And while the inspiration could be mixed, time-wise, cause anyway we're in 2007 in the game but everything else is based off ancient Greece, I think she too is supposed to be from the ancient version of Anatolia, therefore neither Greek nor Turkish but either Hattian or some other Anatolian ethnicity of that time. It is said that people at the shores of Asia Minor back then did speak Greek, probably cause of the trade situation with Greece and all, therefore it now makes sense to me that they went with the broken Greek option since she is not supposed to be native.

There. These are my "findings", or rather realizations. So yeah I apologize, I didn't know and I hope she is Anatolian and neither Greek nor Turkish cause that brings in the forefront ethnicities that went extinct and adds even more diversity in the game. However I have to admit I'm a bit sceptical about the choice of hair colour as well. 37 has light blue hair and Sophia firey red so this couuuuuld be addressing one is Greek and the other Turkish, or maybe's it's me overthinking xD. Cause some of you might say oh then why 6 and 210's hair aren't significant. Well, the men's duo doesn't seem to bring a cultural contrast in the forefront but one of authority and social roles and standards. It's the common sense of the island vs the one that wishes to not follow stuff blindly. 37 and Sophia's focus though has to do with cultural contrast and differences and Sophia's adjusting to the mindset of the island through observation of the common ways (island people) and 37 (sb's different and independent approach to the common ways), while also stressing the significance of learning from each other and finding a middle ground like when 37 also tried to play, in her own way, and try to understand more about Sophia through her father's notebook.

That's all. At the end of the day, games and storytelling are artforms, so unless we have specific mentions of things, everything is up to the viewer's interpretation. That was mine.

[joannerowling]

On the issue with James, I do think this is one area where the books aren’t ageless and have to be read in the context of an English school in the 70s written by an author in the 90s. Because by today’s standards, James is less of your garden variety ‘boys will be boys’ type bully and more of an actual sociopath well past the age of criminal responsibility who by 16 had committed one public sexual assault and was an accessory to attempted murder who backed out last second. But I don’t think that’s at all what Jo meant to convey.

Let me guess. Snape fan? :P

Look, my issue with this discourse has always been that only James seems to get so much flack for his most morally ambiguous actions. I mean, Hermione disfigured a girl her age with zits spelling "sneak" because she'd given the DA members out to Umbridge. Harry nearly gored Malfoy to death by using an unknown spell he knew was meant "for enemies". Yet, i've never seen anyone hating on James that would go as hard against these other characters.

On your first point: James wasn't an accessory to attempted murder who backed out last second. Sirius was the one who tricked Snape and nearly got him killed (which would have made Lupin an accessory to murder). James acted to stop it as soon as he realised what Sirius had done. His reasons for doing so remain obscure - Snape thinks he wanted to save his own skin because he would have been blamed alongside Sirius, but that's Snape's interpretation, not exactly the most unbiased source.

Next: i ressent people misusing the term "sexual assault" to describe what James does in Snape's worst memory (a take that, btw, i've only seen upheld as if it were common knowledge by Americans, or very "Americanised" fans). The definition of sexual assault is "unwanted sexual contact", and in the UK especially it pretty much means "rape without penetration". I do think Jo meant for it to be taken seriously (its parallel with the Muggles's treatment by Death Eaters in GoF is clear), only people didn't really at the time. Still. James humiliated Snape, i'd say what he did qualifies as sexual harrassment, and he's rightfully painted as the bad guy in that episode, but he didn't sexually assault Snape.

Also, because we only have that one scene to work with, everyone seems to forget the larger context, namely: Snape created that spell. Judging by the way Death Eaters were still using it 15+ years later, i imagine James wasn't the first nor the last in his generation to use it against another student. I always saw it as a bit analogous to those dangerous/humiliating games that suddenly become trendy with high schoolers until someone gets hurt enough for adults to intervene. I'm comforted in that interpretation by the fact that Snape implies James didn't even know HE was the one to invent the spell, suggesting it started as a thing Snape showed to other Slytherins to gain some social cred, which then spread to the whole school.

Anyways, if that makes James a sociopath, then Hogwarts must have been chock-full of them in the 70s, starting with Snape himself. Maybe the point isn't that Snape or James (or Sirius) are sociopaths, but that imminent war tends to turn people more prone to violence and less likely to abide by moral principles, or consider their designated enemies's humanity. I have no doubt that James morally justified himself and his actions by the fact that Snape belonged to the "bad crowd" of Voldemort's future recruits. Even though we readers know enough about Snape to be able to tell that he was never seriously convinced by Pure Blood superiority.

[hottakehoulihan]

Ring-Maker

Characters behave recognizably canonically: Yes, sufficiently. Not abandoned incomplete: Complete. Engaging (Funny/cool/thoughtful/feels): Cool Do I recommend it: Esp if you're into LOTR Curbstomp, Cuddles, Crack, Cyoot, Concept: Concept

Premise: Silmarillion sequel+crossover. Taylor's trauma awoke in her ancient links; she's actually the maker of the rings of power reborn. She makes the three rings and uses them--of course--to prevent Lung from killing some kids. Things escalate from there.

Someone posted a recc for this fic to Kylia because it had an unusual portrayal of Amy and I added it to my bookmarks and then, on the plane weeks ago I read it. It's lengthy--at ~150 chapters--and I don't recall being annoyed by bad characterization or spelling.

That said, take what I write here with a grain of salt because

I'm sick rn and have been for a few days so my head is clay.

I waited too long to post this and so my memory isn't fresh.

I never managed to read-and-understand the whole Silmarillion.

Also, this is a story with redemption in it. If you hate the idea of having characters redeemed, you're warned.

(One part of my embers of rage at Victoria "Cop" Dallon as a protag in Ward is her deciding that those former villain capes who didn't perform contrition well enough deserved to be ostracized and marginalized. 'People don't change' thinks this ostensible friend to...literally her whole team of counterexamples. 9_9)

So, spoilers-territory upcoming:

Taylor didn't trigger with a shard. When Sauron ("The Loathed one" I think it is) was destroyed, this teenage girl is where that vestige ended up. Taylor doesn't get this all at once, though. She just knows she can make common metals into mithril, and she can make rings. She's made the three. She'll find them homes, and she'll make more. She'll make all twent--nope. Nope. Not gonna make that 20th. Scary and don't wanna do that don't wanna be that kind of person. Nineteen is fine.

Obvious spoiler one: She's gonna make the 20th eventually.

She'll go by Annatar when she joins the Wards...but she's a bit high-tier. Still, they're her friends.

Sophia? Oh she could crush and destroy Sophia. The PRT wants Annatar enough they'd crush Sophia even if Piggot and Armsmaster weren't already inclined to do so now that they've seen the unvarnished truth of the school incidents. ...but no, Taylor decides (well, she's got a thousands-years-old vestige personality that is only mostly subsumed in her head; it grants perspective) that this is a *child* and that children...fuck up. Sophia wants to be a hero, but she's fucked up.

Taylor decides to redeem Sophia. And Sophia decides she wants to be redeemed. Eventually, Emma, Taylor (who backslides a bit into MasterMachiavellian for a bit, and Sapphia (tastefully) bravely stands up to her at cost to herself) and...

And Cauldron's decided to hitch their wagon to hers. And some of the shards, upon talking to her, do the same.

And it's not at all a curbstomp, even so.

I had a good time. I don't think I'll be rereading it, but it was well done and I'm under the impression I've seen it recommended multiple times in multiple places, so I've this idea that it's a 'classic' of sorts in the Wormfic circles.

...I should maybe attempt to determine what the "classics" are in the minds of the wormfic-reading community. Excluding HP stuff and crack, especially (though I do love crackfic.) My mind leaps to Tabloid and...and suddenly I'm realizing how many of my favorites are crackfic or niche. Hmm.

I'll be looking up other works by the author eventually.

Anyway, tl;dr: Ring-Maker was a pleasant and interesting read, and I felt like it not only did a decent job of exploring the concept, portraying the characters, and telling an interesting story, it also gave me a window into some of the niche weirdness of the LOTR world. Also, I never thought I'd see a serious tasteful attempt at Taylor/Sophia and I don't think I could do it.

Also, Amy doesn't get much screen time, but she's a gruff unapologetic terrifying ass-kicker in the story.

[pttucker]

She got royally irritated and began following after this fool's comments. She even clicked on 'downvote' too. Like a bewitched person, Han Sooyoung read only Kim Dokja's comments and not the novel itself. – Will Jihye finally awaken next chapter? – Author-nim! I've discovered a typo on page 7! With my lacking opinion, I think the spelling here should be… Ah, I looked into it and it's actually my mistake. My apologies. I've learned something new today. – Please, just smack that fool Joonghyuk-ie in the back of his head… This guy, he never once missed writing a comment on all those thousands of chapters. And every single one contained understanding and love for the world created by this author. ⸢Han Sooyoung was envious of that.⸥ She believed that there was simply no way anyone would be reading a novel as bad as this, that it had to be the author himself busy blowing his own trumpet. She thought that the author had created two separate IDs and wrote the novel with one while with the other one, wrote all those comments and uploaded recommendations, too. – Isn't recommending one's own work prohibited? ⸢Just like how Yoo Joonghyuk was an imagined character to Kim Dokja, Kim Dokja was exactly like that to Han Sooyoung.⸥ She thought that such a person wouldn't be real, but… That very person within the texts was standing right before Han Sooyoung's eyes.

Unexpected Sooyoung & Dokja backstory?!! 👀

Okay, so Dokja has said before that he totally called out Sooyoung for plagiarism so that's not the surprising part, but it's so Sooyoung to just angrily start stalking him afterwards and assume that he must be the author in disguise because who could actually like that drivel?

...While at the same time being envious that TWSA had such a loving and dedicated reader.

Also this is totally trying to emphasize that Sooyoung can't be the author of TWSA, and I know that it doesn't really make sense for her to think he was the author while being the author, but it, perhaps illogically, makes me actually even more convinced that she is the author of TWSA?

Because what it says is that this was her first encounter with him, not her first encounter with TWSA, she'd read TWSA before. And it goes out of its way to mention once again that she lost half her memories to her first avatar so I'm wondering if things have gotten twisted in her head.

She lost a portion of her memories while creating avatars and she couldn't clearly remember what happened back then. What was certain, though, was that she had indeed read the novel called the 'Ways of Survival'.

Mmmhmmm. Does this or does this not sound like Asuka Ren and Peace Land? Especially with the way she's described Predictive Plagiarism, looking at various tropes and common themes, etc. Maybe she filled in the holes in her memory with what she thinks should be there? She assumes that she would assume that Dokja is the author?

.

.

Though...

If I were to stick with my original theory that Dokja is the author...

Sooyoung could be right.

"Dokja" could be a fake account made up not necessarily to boost the comments or popularity, but to perhaps help the author (aka Dokja) figure out what to write next? Sort of like programmers with the rubber duck. Or maybe just the account of a guy with no friends who loves one particular story more than anything basically pretending to be his own fan/friend because there's no one else? Or maybe it did originally start out as a means to boost the novel's popularity by pretending to be a big fan but when everyone abandoned it he couldn't bring himself to stop because he really does love TWSA?

And now the author, aka Dokja, has written himself into the story because he couldn't figure out how to end it and/or because he was literally writing the story just for himself anyway. I mean, we literally just had that speech from Uriel about how a story doesn't have to be for someone else, and also we have Dokja realizing now that this is their (his) story and their (his) epilogue.

And it'd fit with my idea that Oldest Dream is Dokja too. I've already gone into my theories that Dokja could be Oldest Dream's avatar (and thus Dokja wouldn't have all of Oldest Dream's memories, only what was given to him) and that could be why Sooyoung is emphasizing that particular tidbit about avatar memories once again.

And Oldest Dream created this specific worldline and Oldest Dream gave Joonghyuk his stigma. The stigma that not only lets Dokja's favorite character that he loves live forever, lets his favorite novel go on forever, but also is the main point of the story. They kinda got into this a little bit with Joonghyuk, but basically Joonghyuk is a Regressor because the story required a Regressor. That was the plot. So literally you could say that the author gave him the stigma, not his sponsor.

The fact that Dokja is a "real person" standing right in front of her right now means nothing. Joonghyuk is literally standing right next to him.

.

.

UGHHHHHHHHH I just gave up my theory that Dokja is the author but now I'm so torn!!!!!! They both make sense!

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

Why must you torment me, ORV???????

I guess if I have to pick which theory I'm favoring atm I'm gonna stick with the idea that Sooyoung is the author for overall thematic purposes.

Joonghyuk, Dokja, Sooyoung.

Secretive Plotter, Oldest Dream, The Author.

Character, Reader, Writer.

[upon-lavender-hills]

I hate it when people get inspired by someone else's work and not give the original author a proper credit, so I decided to not be a douche and do it now. @good-wine-and-cheese, your Grunge fan fiction served as an inspiration to me and in some aspects you could say that I referenced it. Maybe it's not noticeable, but I know I did, since I've reread these fanfics several times. I still keep returning to A Quet Aftermath and Blood and Bone from time to time, so they were bound to have left an impact on me and my own work somehow. It also appears that we share a lot of common ground on Grunge. Personally, I wish there was more, but it's not up for me to decide on this sort of thing.

This came out way too dry, I'm sorry 😭 Also, I would like to say that I read all the tags, and first of all, thank you for your support, and second of all, I don't really hate it when people call Runge 'Lunge', I just think that this spelling is not correct. However, since the translators made this mistake in the official English release (is that correct?) and people are used to this version of his name, I have nothing against them or the fact that they use it. I know I said that I hate it, but to think of it, I just dislike the initial mistake. Like, not even moderately at this point. If you're used to it, you're used to it, nothing to be done about it. As long as everyone understands each other, it should be okay.

And since I'm writing this post, uhh... Returning to the topic of tags, I would like to thank everyone who is leaving them, as well as replies. I really enjoy reading them, so if you're leaving tags on my works and are reading this – thank you, they are fun, and I really appreciate them!

[seriousbrat]

I sent this question to another fanfic author, but seeing your recent posts about patronus vs occlumency, I want to ask you too!

Aside from Snape, Dumbledore, and Draco, which other characters you think could have been talented occlumens? Maybe not necessarily as good as Snape or Dumbledore, but competent and comfortable using the technique.

I'm thinking maybe Peter Pettigrew (he always surprises people), Augustus Rookwood (because he was a spy and seem to have gotten away with it for a long time)... Kingsley Shacklebolt... maybe Andromeda, Narcissa? Maybe more?

Sometimes in the fandom I feel like people assign "a thing" almost exclusively to a character that is canonically good at it - and nobody else is allowed to touch it or be as good as them. But this is magic accessible and useful to all, so I like to imagine other people interacting with it.

I imagine it would be useful for everyone in the Order to try their best to learn it - in case they're captured by DEs or the Ministry, and maybe they're all able to hold their ground against some lame ministry official or dumbass death eater.

I imagine Tonks would be quite bad at it since she wears her emotions on her hair and features.

Actually I do bring this up in my fic, but I think Regulus is an uncommonly good Occlumens! For me it's because his true nature isn't ever revealed to anyone, and he keeps his cards close to his chest. And of course, he fooled Voldemort.

Rookwood definitely would have to be an accomplished occlumens. I imagine a lot of the higher-ranking Death Eaters were required to train in Occlumency, maybe even all Death Eaters. Bellatrix is obviously good enough to teach Draco, and Narcissa good enough to risk lying to Voldemort. I think it also fits Narcissa's character to be good at Occlumency.

As for the Order, they definitely should have been trained lol but for some reason I don't think they really were, especially the younger members like James and Lily. If they were I think Lily in particular would have trouble with it the way Harry does. And you're right that Peter would probably be quite decent at it. I imagine that Voldemort had him trained once he switched sides and started acting as a spy, but on the other hand Peter had the advantage of nobody really paying him much attention.

It's not really clear how common legilimency is. We only really see three legilimens-- Snape, Voldemort, and Dumbledore. If it was commonly and freely used I think we'd see more instances of it from other characters. Umbridge would definitely have tried it for example. I don't know if it's something that the Ministry would employ, it might even be legally restricted because of its invasive nature tbh. And powerful legilimens like Dumbledore and Voldemort are probably quite rare. Someone like Bellatrix might be able to perform the spell but not as adept at getting the right information as Dumbledore, Snape, and Voldemort are. So unless there's a specific reason to learn it (like Harry's connection to Voldemort, or Snape's role as a spy) it might not be hugely necessary. But still probably a good idea haha

[vtori73]

Hmm, people are making a big deal about interpretations/interpreting that one scene in Dunm3shi with the succubus and La0is and doing deep dives and shit but honestly?

I think it was just mostly a funny gag scene mixed with the author turning the tables on common troupes & readers desires & thoughts when it comes to things like this. In this example, the main characters if the opposite gender will be pushed together either by the story narrative or the readers assuming they have a thing for each other so the author wanted to not only reject that kind of troupe/thinking but also do it in a comedic way.

Most people would assume there are some romantic feelings at least coming from La0is because he is a man and while I can acknowledge her looks probably are closer to his type that doesn't necessarily mean all that much considering people can have types but not be interested in a person who fits that criteria, plenty of people end up with people who aren't technically their "ideal/fav" type physically doesn't mean they find the person less attractive because of it or would want to be with someone more who does fit their "ideal" type because in the end looks really aren't everything. BUT, this is specifically a personal opinion, even more specifically it's what I WANT the scene to mean, I don't really want it to be some big deal that means something deeper and would rather it just be some funny way the author went about spitting on common tropes.

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

Since I'm here anyway I want to mention something I've been wanting to write down but haven't yet... While I like Dunm3shi I also have some "eh" feelings about it and I think I finally (mostly) understand why that is after reading someone's long analysis of the above scene I was talking about (that I didnt even agree with 100% but in one section it did help me understand my feeling/thoughts more on La0is/the series in general). My main thing is that while a lot of people like the series because of its more realistic look on race/racism between various races & creatures and having it actually addressed and spelled out and while I do think it does help enhance the story and build the world up more and make it more realistic I ALSO think it doesn't really at the end of the day say or do much... which I guess it doesn't HAVE to but well... let me explain my thoughts below.

But, real quick I want to add that I also find it interesting how people dont differentiate between racism & fantasy race/creature prejudice/bigotry because racism is specifically about RACE, as in skin color and something that deals with HUMANS and not different creatures/species and to conflate the two is never really a good thing because you can't really and often can lead to messy narratives that we especially find often in fantasy like settings.

Anyway, moving back to my thoughts on this, which aren't too deep but basically while I do like that aspect and that it gets addressed and pointed out moreso than regular fantasy (which I think is why I've never been a big fan of fantasy the old timey-ness mixed with that and real world racism/bigotry coming from the people who make this stuff just never sits well with me it's kind of like the phenomena of white people who wish to live in the 50s or something without thinking for one second how they would be the only ones who could/would be able to live safely in that sort of time) I also have a hard time liking what it actually does do/say with it which isn't much. Sure EVERYONE is bigoted in the world, most people in real life are too but is this REALLY ever stopped & questioned all that much? It is really challenged all that much, does anyone stop to think maybe we should be better? Sure at the end of the story things are changed due to what happens (trying to keep this spoiler free) but like... bigotry in general seems more like an aside thing, not really important and more so the whole idea of desires and how they corrupt and such and humanity or something.

This paired with a protagonist who is not just white, but a little close to what white supremacists hold up as the ideal with having blonde hair (but no blue eyes, gold color instead) who has a BIG prejudice against ALL humans due to personal experiences because he isn't like other humans and always seems like it kind of justified due to how EVERYONE, especially human, even friends, seem to react to him with the added aspect that he himself is not free of being racist/prejudiced either and doesn't seem to ever see or acknowledge it or is confronted by it really (racism/bigotry against Shiro & the mountain people specifically). With the added aspect that even different races (races aka the meaning of race in OUR world) are all the same and treated the same it seems and while we can say MAYBE racism like in our world isn't really a thing in this world or as big of a thing in this world it still is weird considering how race actually IS a big factor in the real world and how just... weird this comes off, the white boy feeling the MOST ostracized and out of place in a world of monsters and different race humans & creatures & such to the point of wanting to BE A MONSTER because monsters kill humans (okay so I failed in being spoiler free my bad)... I mean hell, one of his traveling companions is one of the most oppressed races but he doesn't desire things like La0is does.

Now I do feel like I have to add so people don't get the wrong idea tha, no, I don't hate his character or think he is evil or horrible or the worst thing ever I just acknowledge that it comes off odd is all when you analyze all of his character. Sure, he is heavily implied as not being neurotypical and is mistreated for that and can count as something he is oppressed for but plenty of others in the story are oppressed and don't end up wishing for the kinds of things he does, sure he does care about others at the end of the day but im not going to pretend he's a perfect character just because he has faced hardships due to being different. It just reminds me of all the white people in real life who go on about the one or two area of oppression they face while ignoring they still hold a lot of power in the world for being white and use that oppression they face as a shield and sword against anyone who dares criticize them. Instead of acknowledging they gain to benefit from continually perpetuating bigoted rhetoric & ideas that have long been said and done against other oppressed groups they go on the offense and stick their head in the sand wanting to desperately believe that because they are oppressed in x way means they can't possibly still be oppressors/privileged.

It's all just a little weird to me, I can't even say anything past that it just comes off a bit weird to me when I take a step back to analyze it all.

I mean, technically speaking we could say it's sort of realistic with how at least in America and similar places white men tend to be the demographic that commits the most violent acts (shootings for example) but I don't think that was exactly the authors intentions especially considering it all works out in the end and he ends up saving people and the world due to his desire to want to be a monster/his hatred against humans which is kind of funny because it wasn't even INTENTIONAL on his part it just sort of worked out which is... something. Kind of funny but still.

I really liked dunm3shi when I started it, I thought it was hilarious and was why I picked up the manga because the anime made me laugh but once I got to the end I felt meh about it and didnt really understand why and honestly at first thought it was because everything worked out in the end and i interpreted that as meaning i wasn't thrilled about a happy ending but it was actually something a bit more than that. Pair this ALSO with the fact of how white fandom is reacting to La0is and relating to him and even saying how they find all the characters to be racist in some way "realistic"... (Yeah I know I said the same thing but it wasn't the ONLY thing I said, and you'll see more of what I mean when you continue to read) really REALLY leaves a gross taste in my mouth and makes me feel like the story and La0is as a character is making these people feel more emboldened to excuse their own prejudice/racism for x reason whether it be because "uwu no one gets me because im not neurotypical," to "everyone is just like that so it's fine that I am, I don't need to improve or change at all."

Now, no, I'm not saying the story is LITERALLY doing this or even the author I'm saying that's how people are interpreting/reading it which makes me uncomfortable as not only a non-white person but also someone who ISN'T neurotypical and also isn't cis or hetero that I don't feel the way La0is feels and kind of abhor that kind of thinking and really often tends to come from rather privileged people (yes, especially white people). Sure maybe at most I feel that way against white people, MAYBE, and while some will say to me "that makes you no better," that only shows to me that you don't know enough about racism & power dynamics to have a say on this discussion because at the end of the day people hating and maybe even wanting their oppressors dead is not the same as being an actual oppressor who has the power to not only do what some may wish/fantasize about with little to no consequence but probably already has or done so in the past and actively benefits from it. I know oppression works a TAD bit differently in this world with the long lived races having more power and say in the but... I don't really think it detracts from my overall thoughts much if at all tbh.

Alright... I think that's it, I may have missed something and probably didn't explain as well as I could have but this was kind of an ADHD rant so... YEAH, it is not going to be the most organized/well explained thing, deal with it, lol.

[citadelredlightdistrict]

What would your OC's First impression on Drac. Just by appearance alone. Jacwyn (male/female), Samael, Tink, Dew and Loti. (Up to you if you want it be descript or not. Just trying to get a feel on the surface level personality)

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

First Impressions and thoughts

Jacwyn Female: "Whoa, is that an angel or... no, right?" She looks over the young man intently, he was so pretty, petite, and yet she could sense a kind of power that only her sister Samael had ever given off before. She both felt comforted, and scared by him.

Jacwyn Male: "Are you part... bird? Whatever, you're clearly not an elf so I assume you're a servant, you can fetch my dinner then. Now!" He looks over the other petite man, he could sense the power in him, but he couldn't afford to appear weak. His mother was already angry with him, the staff already saw him as a joke. So despite his instincts telling him to submit to the young man, he had to assert himself as the dominant party. He just really hoped the stranger didn't put him in his place as a result.

Samael: "You're not meant to be here. Name yourself creature, and identify as friend or foe." She'd long since sensed him coming, had prepared for this moment for several hours now. At a thought there were over a dozen powerful wards ready to snap into place, including an anti-magic field, an area of silence, and a barrier. If he broke through those she had the spell Banishment prepared, sending him back to his home realm should buy her enough time to prepare stronger countermeasures. She didn't know who or what he was, but she couldn't risk him trying to steal away HER beloved if he was a foe.

Tink: "Dew! Dew where are you? Oh! Hey there, have you seen Dew nearby?" Tink flitters around him, looking around for her friend before sitting down on top of his head without bothering for permission as she tried to think through where Dew could have gone. "Hmm, I don't remember being here before, maybe Dew is still back at that lake? Damn it, boss is going to be so angry if we don't find that stupid elf soon. But I have to find her first..." (She's a bit too preoccupied, Powers like him aren't common in the Fae Wyldes, but he's hardly the first she's met.) Dew: "Hey! I'm sorry to ask, but have you seen an elf nearby? Umm, let's see where is the description we were given, ah! Ok, so umm they're pretty, light skinned, bright eyes, light hair... I mean, probably the only elf in the Fae Wyldes I suppose." Who is this guy? Oh man I really hope boss didn't send him too, there's no way we'll be able to claim the reward if one of the Powers grabs him first! Tink where are you? Oh I really hope you've found the elf first and you're making your way back to the lake! Loti: "AH! H-hey, hey there, umm sir, I mean, please forgive me, I meant no insult." She kneels and bows her head, her mind racing as she is met face to face to one of the Powers of the Wyldes. It was one thing to encounter one of the Authorities, another to meet a Power that was an Authority, both of those were beings who created order and the rules of the Wyldes, but rogue Powers were something else entirely. Beings like him were usually out to become an Authority, and that usually meant death and destruction in their wake. The only way she knew to save herself in a situation like this was to prove herself more useful alive than dead.

(Jacwyn isn't involved in politics and is lacking in the proper context to be afraid of him. So as a female she's more curious than anything else, as a male he's too focused on proving himself worthy of his family and is confused by the feeling of attraction. Samael despite her relative youth compared to most elves is already arguably the most naturally powerful and gifted mage in the material realms, given a few more years she might even be a rival for some lesser gods. So Samael sees him initially as a potential threat that might need to be dealt with before he harms her Jacwyn. The two pixies are too focused on their mission to get Jacwyn, and Loti has never met a Power within the Wyldes and just knows the terrifying stories of what they're capable of.)

[mediaevalmusereads]

The Strange Case of the Alchemist's Daughter. By Theodora Goss. Saga Press, 2017.

Rating: 2/5 stars

Genre: (YA?) historical sci fi/fantasy/mystery

Series: The Extraordinary Adventures of the Athena Club #1

Summary: Mary Jekyll, alone and penniless following her parents’ death, is curious about the secrets of her father’s mysterious past. One clue in particular hints that Edward Hyde, her father’s former friend and a murderer, may be nearby, and there is a reward for information leading to his capture…a reward that would solve all of her immediate financial woes.

But her hunt leads her to Hyde’s daughter, Diana, a feral child left to be raised by nuns. With the assistance of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, Mary continues her search for the elusive Hyde, and soon befriends more women, all of whom have been created through terrifying experimentation: Beatrice Rappaccini, Catherin Moreau, and Justine Frankenstein.

When their investigations lead them to the discovery of a secret society of immoral and power-crazed scientists, the horrors of their past return. Now it is up to the monsters to finally triumph over the monstrous.

***Full review below.***

CONTENT WARNINGS: madness, mention of suicide, blood, self-inflicted wounds, animal death, violence

OVERVIEW: This is another book that sat on my TBR for ages. I remember picking it up at a used bookstore solely because I liked the vibes; I'm not usually a fan of books that use characters in the public domain (it feels too close to fanfiction for me), but I thought I'd give it a chance. Overall, my opinion of this book is not glowing. I can see how some readers may like it; it's kind of fun, and a girl group that goes around investigating secret societies has appeal. However, I wasn't very impressed by the writing, and the way the narrarive progressed just wasn't great. So this book gets 2 stars.

WRITING: While I think Goss's prose is fairly clear and easy to read, there were a few features that I personally disliked.

For one, this book is heavy on the expositional dialogue. Characters will speak for whole paragraphs at a time, explaining things so that the story has context.

For two, Goss uses a lot of filter words so that I always felt a little at arm's length. Phrases like "Mary wondered" or "Mary thought" were common, and while they didn't bother me all the time, they did add up.

For three, Goss uses a lot of exclamations and prompts "suspense" with a bunch of questions, which make the book seem aimed at a younger audience. Phrases like "He had swallowed the fly!" and "how tired she was!" felt like they were inserted to spell things out, as well as questions like "but why was she killed?" - as if Goss didn't trust the reader to infer things. I guess maybe this would be ok if the audience is in fact YA (though it's hard to tell - there's nothing definitive that I can find).

And lastly, I just wanted something more out of this book regarding female monstrosity. This may seem like an unfair criticism, but Goss's author's note claims that the idea for this book stemmed from an observation that a lot of 19th century mad scientists in literature were hung up on female monsters. That observation is a good one, but ultimately, I didn't feel like this book really dwelled on the theme of female monstrosity or did anything interesting with it. The book was mostly about all these lady monsters going around and being badass, and even then, they're not really all that monsterous.

PLOT: The plot of this book follows Mary Jekyll - daughter of Robert Louis Stevenson's Dr. Henry Jekyll - who is left penniless following the death of her mother. When Mary discovers that her mother had secretly been paying for the care of someone named Hyde - the same name as her father's associate and criminal-at-large - she figures she can turn him in and claim the reward money. However, Mary discovers that Hyde is in fact Diana Hyde - Mr. Hyde's daughter. The two find themselves tangled up in a murder mystery (being investigated by Sherlock Holmes) which leads them to the daughters of other famous scientists: Beatrice Rappiccini, Catherine Moreau, and Justine Frankenstein. Together, they seek to uncover a secret society that united their fathers while also exploring what it means to be the progeny of monsters.

There was a lot about this plot that felt fairly whimsical and joyful. I could tell that Goss was enjoying the writing process and those who have read the 19th century stories this book references will surely get a chuckle out of some things.

However, I couldn't help but feel like this book was aimed at a young audience, in part because there wasn't much about the plot itself that was clever. It often felt like Goss was hand-holding a bit too much, and though the characters tell us the girls are smart, they never really do anything exceptional. All of their insights feel obvious if you're familiar with the stories the book is referencing. As a result, this book felt like a Ready Player One but for 19th century Gothic novels - it's mainly enjoyable for the references rather than the story itself. If the audience is a YA one and truly meant to be just a fun 19th century monstrous girl gang, then I guess I can see the appeal. But since I struggled to determine the audience, I'll just have to call it like I see it.

Lastly, this book felt stuffed with unnecessary details. There were quite a few paragraphs about characters eating meals or descriptions of where they were sitting in the room. There were also a lot of explanatory phrases that let the reader know why characters were making decisions or why things were in the world, and dialogue would get long and meandering. I think a lot of these details could have been cut or inferred and the pacing of the plot as a whole would have felt much better.

CHARACTERS: This book primarily focuses on 5 girls, their housekeeper, and Sherlock Holmes and Watson.

There were moments when the characters were charming. Diana Hyde, for example, was feisty and obstinate, and Justine Frankenstein was sweet-natured and timid despite being so strong.

However, I do think the writing style tends to flatten them out, and though I didn't mind their chiding in the "interruptions," I also don't feel like I fully got to know them as people. I think the characterization would have been better if each of the girls grappled with their own identities and with their own concept of monstrosity. While there's a little of that, it's quickly brushed aside and the characters don't so much grow as they have adventurous romps together.

TL;DR: The Strange Case of the Alchemist's Daughter tries to have fun with female monstrosities from the 19th century, but the lackluster mystery and the prose style make this book tedious to read.

[radiantlyrey]

I never do stuff like this, but @bowiesinspace did this neat little questionnaire, so I thought I'd give it a shot, too.

Are you named after anyone? Yes! I was named after a beloved great-aunt of my mother's. It is a unique spelling of a semi-common name, so I'm not tellin' it here. As for my internet name (Skye, short for Skye_Writer or SkyeWriter30 or whatever), I chose that myself because I like puns.

When was the last time you cried? I almost cried yesterday thinking about something that I can't remember now. It was either a movie or tv episode, or maybe a book? Maybe? I cry at the slightest provocation, at least when it comes to media, so yeah.

Do you have any kids? Nope! And very happy that way. My siblings both have kids, though, and I very much love those kiddos, but I do not ever want any of my own.

What sports do you play/have you played? I played girls' softball when I was ten or eleven and it was against my will.

Do you use sarcasm? Yes. Constantly. It is my conversational bread and butter.

What's the first thing you notice about people? Usually? Their hair or clothes. Things that make them identifiable, stuff like that.

What's your eye color? Dark brown. (Though in more direct light they look kind of amber-golden, which I love.)

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings all the way! I am not a huge fan of downer endings, or endings that are bleak for bleakness' sake. I don't mind an ambiguous ending (like say, Inception), but I much prefer happy endings, or at least happy-for-now endings.

Any talents? Not really? I guess? I don't know. I'm good at picking up new crafts and such, I guess. I don't know. I'm so bad at actually looking at myself objectively. Sigh.

Where were you born? Long Beach, California. I'm only telling you this because I live nowhere near Long Beach, California anymore.

What are your hobbies? Writing and reading, mostly. I also enjoy cozy-type video games (also Pokemon) (basically just any kind of game where you don't have to fight things, or if you do, the fights don't require good reflexes). I crochet a lot, too; I'm currently making an amigurumi dragon and having fun with it. I also enjoy doing puzzles, and I keep meaning to pick up my ukulele or ocarina and get better with those.

Do you have any pets? Yes! We have a 2-year-old dog who's extremely rambunctious, and then four cats. I love them all, tho one of the cats is sometimes a jerk.

How tall are you? About 5'7" or 5'8" (so around 1m70cm or so??). Middling tall is I guess how you'd describe it.

Favorite subject in school? English, a thousand times over. Runners-up include Chemistry (which I took two courses on in uni), and Math (I took Calculus for fun in uni). Also I really enjoyed the Film classes I took for my Film Studies minor in university.

Dream job? In an ideal world where I was not actively hindered by my own brain, I would be a published author or something. But honestly, I'd settle for something simple enough that I wouldn't stress about it (anxiety is a lame-ass BITCH), that I could also sit down while doing (back pain? ALSO a lame-ass bitch).

Not tagging anybody bc that ain't my style. Enjoy this unprecedented look behind the curtain!! *swishes cape and dives offstage*

[tuulikannel]

5, 14, 15, 19!

5. where do you buy books?

I used to work in a bookstore (for over 10 years), so at that time I naturally bought pretty much all my books there, and I'm still in the same habit. ^^ In general, I do prefer physical stores to online stores. Its more fun to browse there. Sometimes I buy books from Adlibris (a Swedish online book store, which is pretty big in Finland too).

14. do you ever mark/dog ear books you own?

…no. Or, I'm sure there are occasions that I've done this in the past... >_> I'd still say no. I own a gazillion of bookmarks, tho most often there just some random piece of paper stuck in-between the pages. ^^;;

15. recommend and review a book.

……a book? As in only one? What am I to choose…

I'd like to pick something from C.J. Cherryh or Clifford D. Simak, couple of my favorite authors, but maybe I'll choose instead Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes (published in 1966). It's a beautiful book, I think… moving, but quite sad. I think I'll start with the back cover blurb:

"Charlie Gordon, IQ 68, is a floor sweeper, and the gentle butt of everyone's jokes, until an experiment in the enhancement of human intelligence turns him into a genius. But then Algernon, the mouse whose triumphal experimental transformation preceded his, fades and dies, and Charlie has to face the possibility that his salvation was only temporary."

Now… one thing I would like to point out is that this so-called 'salvation' isn't so black and white to begin with. Is being smart really the only thing that matters?

Out of curiosity, I checked 1-star reviews on Amazon. There's three kinds of them: 1) those who didn't like the swearing/sexual references and who had bought this book for kids (I mean… what about it made you think it's a children's book?), 2) those who found it too hard/boring to follow (I'll refrain from any comments), and 3) those who complain about spelling errors. The last thing is hilarious to me. This book is basically Charlie's diary, and like I said, his IQ in the beginning is 68. He doesn't know how to spell (in the beginning). So yes, there are spelling errors. A lot of them. Here's the first sentence: "Dr Strauss says I shoud rite down what I think and remembir and evrey thing that happins to me from now on." If this kind of writing gets on your nerves, maybe you should skip this book. XD

19. most disliked popular books?

First I couldn't think of anything but…… there's this pretty popular (I think?) fantasy author, Tad Williams. And I do like him too! Some years ago I got this urge to read some proper fantasy, and I ended up rereading his Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn series, and I loved it just as much as I did back when I first read it. And then I noticed he had just decided to continue it (after 25 years or so, impeccable timing from me, isn't this!) The little book that connects the old trilogy to the new trilogy(?) is called The Heart of What Was Lost and… it's so bad. So bad. ;_; People and places just had common names with the old, familiar things, and that's all; change the names, and it could have been just any other (quite mediocre) fantasy book, set somewhere else. The world-building, part of what had made the original series so fantastic, wasn't there either.

And people love that book! There are reviews under such titles as "Magic of Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn Recaptured," "An Excellent Re-Introduction to Osten Ard," "A great followup to Memory Sorry (sic.) and Thorn trilogy!" and "Williams hovers on the edge of greatness," and I'm just like, have we read the same book? O_o I personally found it bad as a book, and awful as a continuation to that series! (Sorry if it's your favorite book. >_>)

(Also, the followup series… it's okay~ish, but again, nowhere near to the original series either. I've only read the first two books. The third part has apparently come out last year. Maybe I'll read it some day. Or maybe not, we'll see.)

Huh. Ok, rant over. ^^;;

[joys-of-everyday]

Thank you!

I think it is partly, but I have thoughts to add? because I love shonen The comparison to shonen is interesting because yes there are people who dismiss all anime as sexist because they watched dragonball or whatever (I love dragonball btw. childhood nostalgia), but there's also plenty of debate within the shonen community about it's representation of women... and things are changing! There are more female mangakas writing shonen, shonen mangakas are more aware of feminist issues, and I think magazines like Shonen Jump do appreciate that women make up a good chunk of its readership, despite still primarily aiming its work at young boys. There's still a long long way to go, but compared to shonen (or even Shonen Jump in particular) 30 or 50 years ago, you see a shift. Within shonen, there are better and worse examples for this. I think HxH does it's female characters pretty well, despite being a story primarily about male characters. Yu Yu Hakusho (same author, written earlier) does it less well.

BL is changing too! I'm less familiar with how danmei has shifted over time because most my knowledge of BL history is based on a great talk I went to about Japanese BL/yaoi history, but anyway, BL mangakas have been aware of lots of issues from very early on. BL has expanded massively, both in the sheer volume of content produced and in the kind of stories that are portrayed. Subversions of tropes are common. Subversions of tropes are now becoming tropes.

Women in BL is interesting, because unlike women in shonen, women have always been at the heart of BL. Even stories that don't have female characters can very much be about women (this generates all kinds of other discussion). But you're right - BL focuses on male characters and their relationships. So when we discuss female characters, we're discussing side characters, and comparing side characters to protagonists is unfair. Then again, side characters are things we have discussed before, even in the west - the whole 'not like other girls' and the 'mean girl' thing in YA for example.

I don't know where I'm going with this in tbh but I guess the point is that raising the issue of female representation in BL is (I think) completely valid. Ofc there are stupid ways to go about this. To add to your point, at least in the western fandom, I think maybe the problem is that gay stuff is put under the umbrella of 'progressive' and is thus held to higher expectations. Or maybe it's part of a larger trend to complain about everything in everything (not that this is inherently bad but I feel like people forget the discussions are different in different places and holding everything to the same standard is unhelpful). And maybe (as with sexism in anime) there's an element of screaming into the void here because most the people who write this stuff just don't interact with the English speaking fandom. But I think having a healthy amount of discussion within a fandom is important (not least because it gives you a full set of counterarguments when people disagree with your interests lol)

Sorry about the length of this. And if you noticed, the spelling mistakes upstairs😛

MXTX's women

Let's do ✨discourse™✨

Addendum: I checked out twitter (x now?) for the first time in ages and... um... maybe this isn't a good time for discourse. But hey, I love mxtx so I'm just going to do a Shen Yuan and pretend absolutely everything is fine.

I feel like a lot of the discourse around MXTX and sexism don't hit the mark? Things like 'there are few female characters', 'the female characters die', 'the female characters don't hold positions of power' are not indications as to whether a piece of work standing on its own is sexist. For example, you could write an entire novel about a sexless robot (which miserably fails the Bechdel test because there is only one character) and that says nothing about whether the work itself is sexist. This is an caricature of an example and of course, overall trends give a very different picture to individual works, so its not to take such works off the hook either. Similarly, including sexist troupes isn't inherently sexist, but equally arguing something is a 'critique' isn't a shield against criticism. Critique can be done badly, critique can become outdated, critique itself can be critiqued.

But equally the counterargument to this can't entirely be 'but look at x, y, and z - aren't they great female characters?'. Look, I love mxtx's women. I can write essays (plural) about mxtx's women. Many people already have. Then again, Eowyn from lotr is arguably a pretty deep character, but I would have problems if lotr was the best example of female representation we could come up with. The point being, the existence (or lack thereof) of strong female characters isn't (entirely) the point, even though it's often made out to be. Don't get me wrong, good female representation without strong female characters is... erm... hard. But if it was the crux of the argument, the discourse could be killed in three tumblr posts.

The bigger question(s) (possibly) is: What is its intent? How is that intent received?

SVSSS, MDZS, and TGCF are all extremely different pieces of work. SVSSS in particular stands out, because at its heart, it is satire. While debates around what kind of comedy is and isn't good exist independently of SVSSS, needless to say, judging satire in the same way you would say a murder mystery or a romantic fantasy is not advisable. Sha Hualing is a sexy demon lady whose clothes rip off in the middle of a battle. Why? Because that's saying something about a particular troupe of a particular genre.

(Side note: I have opinions on how we shove different BLs together when they really shouldn't be under the same umbrella and how this muddies the discourse unnecessarily. I'm talking about Killing Stalking btw)

For SVSSS, if you get it, you get it (it's impossible to read without understanding this). While some loose threads exist about how female characters could have been more developed... man, do you know how much development my boy Mu Qingfang got? You're not sexist if you punch everyone (only half ironic here). (In terms of character development I also think this might be a fandom thing as well as a SVSSS thing.) But I think more relevantly, SVSSS tells you something about the way MXTX writes critique.

If you didn't notice, SVSSS is critique on two levels. First is the blatant critique of the harem genre, and the second is more subtle critique on BL, on fandoms, on webnovels, on literature. But while we get Shen Qingqiu's commentary guiding us through the first bit, this drops during the second bit. It takes Shen Qingqiu so long to realise that what he's living through is a crazy mishmash of BL troupes that the only narration you get on this is Pure Confusion. To realise Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu's early interactions is commentary on the 'dark and obsessive love' troupe, you need to immediately realise that Shen Qingqiu telling you Luo Binghe is trying to kill him is just... Wrong. So (possibly, ofc I've no idea what's going on in the author's head) the intent is critique. But intent is meaningless without it being conveyed to the reader. So how are we meant to 'realise' what is going on?

Firstly, MXTX tells you. Shen Qingqiu goes: 'damn Luo Binghe isn't acting like in those weird danmei novels' and you're meant to go 'oh weird danmei novels I know about those'. Second is her very obvious use of troupes (even flagged!). 'Clothes rip/disappear in the middle of a serious situation, isn't this weird? Where have we seen that before?'. And thirdly, by introducing a sense of absurdity. Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu's relationship is presented in such an unconventional way (the master-disciple pair which generated a famous porno!) that it forces you to engage with it critically.

Okay, so what does that have to do with sexism? Take MDZS. We have a set of very troupy characters - 'the older sister', 'the scary mother', 'the strong independent woman', 'the damsel in distress'. We have explorations and subversions that go beyond troupes: Jiang Yanli's character shaped by her experiences in an abuse household, Yu Ziyuan's pride and loyalty, Wen Qing's well... everything, and Mianmian needs no explanation. We have flags to tell us we are meant to care about these issues: most obviously Mianmian experiencing gendered harassment for speaking up. All the women die! Yeah, isn't that a problem. Because it's the women sacrificing themselves, women silently taking on burdens, women chained by the circumstances of the world around them and still making choices about what is important to them (and it's often not themselves). The women aren't in positions of power/aren't shown to be as competent as the men! They're literally put down when they speak up, and don't the wives have a great time with their husbands. MDZS is critique of society. MDZS's women too are a critique of the society they (we) live in.

But not all critique is good critique! The first way that critique can fail is if it just isn't registered as critique by the reader. And this isn't always on the reader. If the author isn't clear enough on this, then they have failed to execute the intent of their work. And to this extent, I've heard enough people say that MDZS is maybe sexist as a first reaction (myself included) to think that yeah, maybe this wasn't well done. The flags are scarce. The subversions of troupes are subtle enough to be missed in it's entirety. Then again, MDZS often ends up as people's gateway piece into danmei, when it is probably better understood with more context - for me, coming back to MDZS after a big BL reading spree was exceptionally enlightening. As to whether it could have been better done in the bounds of the genre, without detracting from the banging story it was... I honestly don't know.

One way to go about it is, well... TGCF. Here everything is laid out to you to an almost bizarre degree. 'Look, isn't this a Hard Question' the narrative stops to tell you at multiple points, from Bai Wuxiang and Xie Lian's back and forths, to 'I don't know if what I did was right' speeches on a regular basis (maybe not regular but it was enough to notice). The troupes are still there but their twists are far more obvious. Xuan Ji is the 'deranged woman' who is (we are told multiple times) surprisingly normal and competent when she isn't around Pei Ming. Yushi Huang and Banyue are just obviously strong, competent, and in positions of power. Shi Qingxuan shines in all of her wonder, kindness, and unfortune. The flags are more glaring as well: Just Pei Ming's Existence, Ling Wen's whole backstory, Jian Lan's tragedy... And it probably worked? Since people seem to complain significantly less about any supposed sexism of TGCF.

Do I like it? I like elements of it. Ling Wen is honestly great.

But I love the subtlety with which MDZS weaves its themes and tbh I think some of the magic was lost there. (I love TGCF to bits for different reasons but yeah)

Does MXTX's writing of women merit discussion? Of course, everything merits discussion. Particularly MXTX's works which rely so heavily on genre troupes to craft themes. Is MXTX's work sexist? Idk, I would say no, but these things are Hard Questions.

But my feeling? My true feeling? At the very least, it is So. Much. Better. than a huge amount of work that tries to be feminist and pitifully fails.

My current pet peeve is the 'strong independent woman'. Depicting a sexist society then including a 'strong independent women' with no true appreciation of the realistic struggles she would face, as if the only barriers that we face within these societies is to stop being a loser... is worse in my books than not including any women at all. Or 'strong independent women' who turn out to be utterly pathetic and in constant need of saving. Or 'strong independent women' who have no other personality than being the 'strong independent woman'. The intent here is to come across as feminist and progressive without critically engaging in anything. It's paper thin.

Ultimately, the core theme of MDZS and TGCF isn't about women's experiences (whereas SVSSS is, I would argue, right into the nooks and crannies). Do these works explore such themes to the extent it explore privilege, conflict, and oppression? Not really. But you can't do everything - the role of an author is inherently about choosing what to prioritise. And given what it does do, I think it does some pretty neat things.