#the book is much more wide-ranging than expected | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maxinexstars · 7 months ago

Text

Arrow

Request by anon:Cupid x Female reader where the arrow hits her (just one arrow) and she falls in love with the reader

Cupid x femreader

Moodboard: @alrawabi-imagines

somehow Cupid had accidentally hit herself with one of her arrows,and you ended up being the poor soul she saw first. Now she was completely and utterly in love with you. She stood up, giggling cutely and blushing

"Well, hi there, beautiful...~" it was clear that she was very much in love. Completely and utterly, in fact. You were the object of her obsession at that moment, the target of her affections. You didn't know what was going on with her,or why she was all over you for no reason.

"Hi Cupid" She giggled and approached you with a wide and adorable smile, her cheeks a lovely pink color. She reached up and put her hand on your cheek gently, smiling more in a flirtatious way.

"You're so gorgeous~"

"What's gotten into you?" You asked,she was behaving out of character. She was usually calm and composed,the person you'd go for good advice but now she was acting like a lovesick fool.

"Hmmm, what do you mean by that...?" She blinked with a slightly clueless and naive expression, before laughing lightly as if it was a joke. "I'm just happy to see you, that's all... You make me happy~" She giggled more, and continued to lean into the conversation, now closer than ever. Thankfully the bell rang and you headed to different classes. Except you didn't go to class,you snuck away to the library. Hoping you'd find an answer to what's happening with Cupid. You searched and searched through the various books that lay within the library, before finally stumbling across the correct section,one on love. Within that section, you discovered a book that detailed cupids such as Cupid herself. The 'symptoms' section detailed that a cupid, when hit with their own arrow, would go absolutely nuts for the first person they saw. You read further,the book gave the various symptoms, which you were already experiencing, and then suggested the various methods of coping with such a cupid, including; ignoring them,which could cause a dangerous reaction, including possible violence. Having them hit another arrow on another target,which would just make another person obsessed with the cupid or trying to woo them,which is what a cupid would expect from their love target. You knew you couldn't do any of that,so you searched for a way to break the spell. The book suggested that there was something of a loophole that only a few cupids knew about, and some did accidentally stumble across it. If their 'victim' was actually in love with them back, it could nullify the effect... Which means you had to fall in love with cupid. Or fake it. You were debating as you kept flipping through the book. The last page read 'A last resort to break the spell is to break the-' the rest of the page was torn. You sighed deeply, frustrated at how you couldn't finish reading the book that gave the last piece of information needed, but then, you had a lightbulb moment. If what the book said was true, then you technically didn't have to fall in love with her,you just had to get her to believe that

you already had those feelings. Or find out what you had to break. Maybe there'd be more information in her room. You were onto something there. Perhaps her room would yield some more information, if you were lucky. You had to be sure that no one would stumble across you leaving the library though, and so you left discreetly, glancing around to make sure the coast was clear. But when you got there the door was obviously locked,why hadn't you thought of that. You knew Cupid had the key and you had to trick her into opening it for you. You waited outside her classroom and eventually she came out. She didn't even notice you as she had her earphones in, bobbing her head to whatever tune she was listening to. She was so into it that she wasn't even aware of her surroundings, the poor girl being completely distracted. She made her way to her locker,you put your hands on either side of her,on the lockers. Trapping her between the lockers and you. She was startled at first, a small squeak escaping her mouth as she turned her head to look at whoever it was that had interrupted her music... Only for her cheeks to go pink when she saw that it was you, the person she was pining over.

"O-oh,Hi there~" She spoke softly, her eyes not leaving your own, a smile spreading across her mouth. You leaned in closer

"Hey,how about we take this to your room?. Just the two of us" The pink on her cheeks only grew more noticeable as her eyes widened slightly. Cupid was clearly embarrassed, yet utterly infatuated that you were flirting with her in such a way. A love spell or not, she'd love the idea as herself or anyone else. Cupid stuttered a little, but managed to respond.

"S-sure,if you want to" She mumbled softly, letting her guard down for you. You may just be able to pull this off.

"Lead the way,darling" you cringed at yourself,simultaneously feeling bad about doing this. Cupid blushed as her expression shifted from flustered to giddy. She took your hand and began to lead you over to her room, her cheeks still a noticeable pink. As you passed others, you could see some of them giving you an odd look, clearly wondering why the love cupid would be hanging out with you so suddenly. But, you paid them no mind, focusing solely on Cupid as she continued to guide you towards her room. Her broadcasting room was a beautiful open place,with her equipment set on a table,a bookshelf which you hoped would hold the answer. As you looked around you saw an empty case with a key hanging next to it,but it was empty. "What's that for?" Cupid turned towards you in confusion, before realizing what you were talking about. She smiled and gave a soft chuckle, before answering your question.

"Oh... It's where I store my bow. I always do that when I'm not working." Cupid explained,smiling. A chill ran down your spine,it was empty and her bow was nowhere in sight.

"Where is it now?" Cupid shrugged her shoulders, giggling cutely as she did so. She twirled around, before giving a twirl of her feet for some reason. Whatever had caused this, it certainly left her happy.

"Oh, I don't know. It's probably somewhere in-" Cupid paused and her voice trailed off when she noticed that the case was empty. A look of panic spread across her face as she turned to face you. "You don't think someone took my bow, do you?"

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of,we need to find it. But first there's something I need you to do for me" Cupid nodded her head frantically, clearly panicked as she worried about where her bow could possibly be. She looked at you with worry in her eyes, waiting for you to ask for what you wanted. She'd clearly do anything for you at that very moment.

"Okay... What do you want me to do..?" Cupid spoke softly, looking at you to await your instructions.

"Sit down and try to stay calm" She nodded her head, before she sat down on the ground, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, trying to calm herself to an extent. Although she was panicking a lot, she had to do something to stay calm,after all, you had asked her to.

"Okay, okay I'll try.I'll try to stay calm. Anything for you” Cupid spoke softly, looking up at you as she did so. You looked through the bookshelf,hoping you'd find the same book and you did. The last page was completely intact and read 'the final way to break the spell is to destroy the bow' you read further. It read, ‘If the spell is not nullified by their target being in love with them in the first place, or if their target denies the cupid's affection and refuses them, then the only option is to destroy the cupid's weapon, their bow. The bow itself is what gives cupids their power. Take that away from them, and they are no longer affected.’ This was the last resort to break the spell.

"We need to find your bow before whoever has it now causes trouble. Cupid nodded her head in agreement, panic in her eyes when she heard that someone else had her bow. She stood up, giving a nod to you in return.

"Yes,you're right, we have to go find it. Who knows what trouble they'll cause if they have that in their possession" Cupid spoke softly, clearly worried. As you ran through the school until you were stopped by Frankie

"Hey Y/N,I've been looking for you everywhere. I found a way to break the spell" she said,but there was something bigger now

“That's good but Cupid's bow is missing and we need to find it" Frankie reassured,revealing that she had taken the bow for safekeeping. The panic that was on Cupid's face lessened the moment Frankie said she had the bow. She let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders slouching slightly as she did so. She was clearly very glad that the bow was safe and no longer in the wrong hands.

"Well, thank the love Gods you have it,I was worried sick, thinking about if someone else got their hands on that thing,but at least we know it's safe now"

"Now we just need to smash it,so the spell will be broken" you said,reaching for the bow but Frankie pulled away.

"We still need to free Draculaura from Valentine and then we can break it," Frankie explained. Cupid's eyes widened a little as she heard that it needed to be destroyed, before she nodded her head slightly in understandment.

"But,how are you going to break them apart? I saw them together the other day.They're pretty attached at the hip."

"We use your arrows and make her fall for Clawd,come on let's go" Cupid's eyes widened slightly when she heard the plan, before she blushed and nodded her head in agreement. She knew how to work her arrows, how to make any monster fall in love using these babies. She reached into her quiver, pulling out an arrow and loading it into her bow.

"Okay, let's go then." After you saved Draculaura from Valentine,that left one thing. Freeing Cupid from her own spell,by smashing the bow. She seemed to snap out of it completely,but looked confused. The moment you smashed the bow, Cupid gasped and her eyes widened in surprise. She looked at the fragments of the bow before her, before she looked back at you in surprise.

"Wha... What has happened..?" Cupid's cheeks were still a light pink, but this was more out of confusion than affection. She really was confused about what the hell had happened in the last twenty four hours or so.

"It's a long story,maybe I could tell you over coffee?" Cupid blushed when you offered to explain this over coffee with her, biting her cheek slightly as she nodded her head in agreement. She was back to her usual, composed self, yet there were still lingering tinges of the cupid magic about her.

"Yea,that sounds nice.I'd like that."

#cupid #cupid x reader #monster high cupid #monster high x reader #monster high cupid x reader #monster high imagine #cupid imagine #monster high cupid imagine

96 notes · View notes

thatbloodymuggle · 11 months ago

Text

READY TO RUN (vi)

SIX - PIANISSIMO

SUMMARY: in a world where everyone has a predetermined match, JJ Maybank and Y/N Montgomery want nothing to do with theirs. it has to be a cruel joke; the universe forcing two people to love each other when they don’t know how.

PAIRING: jj maybank x reader / soulmate au

WORD COUNT: 7.8k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: implied abuse

✰✰✰

"Bravo, Y/N! Much, much improved!" Madame Mercier applauded enthusiastically as you removed your hands from the keys and returned them to your lap.

You exhaled in relief and a proud grin tugged at your lips.

"Did you do something different during your practices this week? At this rate we may be able to sneak in another piece for your exposition," the old woman praised you.

I got dicked down by JJ Maybank, you thought.

"I did a lot of chunked repetitions," you said.

Madame placed her wrinkled hands on your shoulders, "Well keep doing that, chérie. My only criticism is measures--"

"64-68. I know," you finished your teacher's sentence. The woman nodded once sharply before placing your notebook down, silently dismissing you from your lesson.

Just as you rose from the bench, the front doorbell rang followed by a sharp knock. Madame Mercier's brows cinched and she mumbled under her breath, "Qui est là?"

You continued your work packing up your things as Madame went to answer the door. You nearly dropped your books when you heard your father's distinct voice sound through the house.

"It's nice to see you, Madame. I'm not interrupting, am I?"

You scrambled to finish packing your bag and rushed out of the room, nearly tripping over your clumsy feet. You slid into the front room with a frazzled look as you stared wide-eyed at Clyde Montgomery. He stood with his hands on his hips as he spoke with your teacher with a polite smile that didn't quite reach his stern eyes. His gaze shifted to you and he cocked his head, beckoning you over.

"I apologize for showing up unannounced," he addressed Madame, "I simply wanted to check in on Y/N’s progress. I trust she communicated with you our deal?"

Madame pushed her wire-framed glasses onto her head as she squinted up at the tall man in confusion. Clyde shot you a hard look as it was evident the older woman had no idea what he was talking about.

"Y/N, go wait outside in the car. I'll be there shortly," he sighed, running a hand over his face.

Your lips dipped and you shrank in on herself at his tone. You felt like a child. Nevertheless, you nodded obediently and scurried out of the house, avoiding Madame's watchful eye. You clambered into the front seat of the Rolls-Royce and slammed the door shut behind you with a groan. You shouldn't have been surprised by your father's lack of trust. He had actually been giving you more freedom than expected. But it still frustrated you, nonetheless. You leaned your head against the window and shut your eyes with a sigh. While you waited, you drummed measures 64-68 on your thigh, hoping to imprint the problem area in your muscle memory.

You were jolted from your ghost playing by the opening of the driver's side door as Clyde climbed into the expensive car beside you. You tensed at your father's presence, subconsciously sitting up a little bit straighter.

"Well, I'm disappointed that you didn't inform your teacher of our arrangement," your father spoke gruffly as he turned the keys in the ignition. You shrunk in on yourself. "But she had nothing but praises to sing of you," he continued while pulling the car from the curb.

Your shoulders slumped with relief.

"We briefly spoke about the Juilliard scout's visit. I'll arrange to have the clubhouse reserved for the event, as well as catering," he added as he drove down the street.

You nodded, "Thank you, Dad. I really appreciate it."

While you truly did appreciate the support, it was a double-edged sword; now Clyde had put a stake in your success at the showcase. If God forbid, something went wrong, you would never be allowed to forget all that your father did to make it possible only for you to screw it up.

You stared out of the window and diverted your focus toward the passing white houses to prevent your thoughts from spiraling. You jolted as your phone buzzed in your lap.

4:17 PM Kate: what time for movie night?

You gnawed on your bottom lip as you were reminded of the friends you had been avoiding for over a week now. You couldn't possibly push this off any longer.

"Hey, Dad?" you looked at your father. His eyes remained trained on the road ahead, but he grunted, signaling you to continue, "Is it okay if I sleep over at Kate's tonight?"

Clyde mulled over your question for a moment before replying, "Considering you've been on top of your responsibilities I suppose that would be alright. But I expect you to be back in time for Georgia's tennis tournament. We'll be leaving the house at 10 A.M."

You nodded, "Yes, Sir,” and quickly typed a response to Kate.

to Kate:

how about 8? delivered 4:19 PM

You sighed and rested your head back against the window. Now you just had to figure out what the hell you were going to say to Kate; surely easier said than done. You wondered if JJ could feel the anxiety bubbling in the pit of your stomach. He surely felt the aching of your hands from your grueling practice session. Your lips quirked as you thought of Madame's remark about your drastic improvement. If JJ ever found out that fucking your senseless had such an effect on your piano performance, you would never live it down.

Before you could stop yourself, your mind drifted to him. You pictured yourself on the back of his dirt bike again, the wind tickling your skin. It almost felt sinful, indulging in the memory of it. And as you wondered when you would see him next, you savored the impurity of it all.

✰✰✰

"You're such a freak," Dixie's grating voice jostled you from your ghost practicing.

You huffed at the disturbance and narrowed your eyes at your older sister. Convincing Dixie to drive you to Kate's house, although only 10 minutes away, was like pulling teeth. You weren't in the mood to argue with her in the car, but it seemed nearly impossible as you felt the annoyance seeping from Dixie at your incessant finger drumming.

You rolled your eyes, "At least I have career aspirations beyond whacking a ball around with a stick."

"Career aspirations, my ass," your older sister scoffed at your insult as she sped down the state road, "You forget that I already have a job lined up at Fox after graduation," she added smugly.

You snorted at this, "Yeah, 'cause the world needs another Banana Republican to tell them all about everything wrong with the snowflake liberals."

Dixie gripped the steering wheel and seethed, "Watch your mouth, Y/N. If you're not careful, I might just accidentally slip up in front of Mom and share all about your little display at Topper's birthday."

Your face paled and you snapped your head toward your older sister, "How the hell did you find out about that?"

"You weren't exactly subtle, little sis," Dixie quipped with an eye roll.

You huffed but relented and slumped back into the passenger seat. You knew nearly every Kook on the island was at Topper's party, but you foolishly never considered the possibility that Dixie and her friends were there. You remained silent for the rest of the drive and nearly leaped out of the car when Dixie finally stopped in front of Kate's house. You didn't so much as wave Dixie goodbye as your older sister zipped away.

You shuddered as you shook off your annoyance and turned to face the walkway to the front door. With each step closer, your heart beat a little bit faster. You rang the doorbell before you could talk yourself out of it, and your breathing hitched as your head pounded in anticipation. You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. Just as you exhaled, the door swung open and you were enveloped in a hug. You stumbled backward as you were suffocated by the smell of Kate's vanilla shampoo. You wrapped your arms around your friend once you had recovered from the initial shock, and a small weight was lifted from your shoulders at the sign of affection.

"I missed you so much," Kate cried, tightening her hold.

"Me too," you gasped, "But I can't breathe."

Kate quickly unraveled herself and opted to place her hands on your shoulders instead, as you struggled to catch your breath. Kate stared at you with wide eyes, "Are you okay?"

You nodded with a soft smile. You leaned forward and wrapped her in a hug once more, and Kate made sure to be more gentle with her grip this time.

"You done suffocating her?"

Kate released you once again at the sound of Topper's voice.

You grinned up at your best guy friend, "You jealous?" youquipped.

Topper grunted and placed his hand on top of your head, rustling your around. You squealed, pulling away from him with a glare.

"Missed you, Montgomery," he smiled, satisfied at the mess he'd made of your hair, "Life was getting kind of boring without someone to bully."

"I'm so glad you see me as more than a punching bag," you retorted, sarcasm dripping from your lips.

Kate rolled her eyes at the interaction and grabbed your hand, dragging you to the living room. You smiled softly as you saw that the couple had laid out a huge bowl of popcorn alongside a variety of candy. The sight tugged at your heartstrings, as you realized how much you had missed your friends.

"As much as I've missed you, you do have some explaining to do," Kate spoke tenderly as she settled onto the couch and draped a throw blanket over her legs. Topper sat beside his girlfriend and stretched his legs out onto an ottoman. He remained silent but quirked his eyebrows in question.

You sighed but nodded. The anxiety you had felt before entering the house had returned with a vengeance. "I assume Anna hasn't said anything?"

Kate and Topper shook their heads.

"She hasn't even mentioned your name, but we've barely seen her. She’s been hanging around Charlie and Will's crowd," Kate replied.

You frowned, and you felt a sharp pang in your heart. Anna was one of your oldest friends. Surely she couldn’t just be moving on like nothing happened.

"Well," you started, but paused, unsure of how to continue. You wet your lips and took a deep breath before continuing. "I met my soulmate a couple of weeks ago," you ripped off the bandaid.

Kate's eyes bulged and she choked on her popcorn.

"You what?" she shrieked, and you winced at her volume. "How come you didn't tell us sooner? Who is it? When did you meet? What was it like-" Kate rambled out question after question but stopped herself as Topper squeezed her thigh, kindly telling her to shut up.

You laughed dryly, "It's complicated," Kate's lips dipped into a frown, but allowed you to continue, "And to be honest, I'm not ready to share who it is yet."

Kate couldn't stop herself from protesting, "Seriously, Y/N? So Anna can know but not me? She’s literally not speaking to you, and you still won't tell me?"

Guilt flooded you as you heard the hurt in her tone.

"I didn't tell Anna," you tried to defend herself, "Anna figured it out herself. And I promise I'll tell you as soon as I'm ready, but I'm still processing it myself."

You looked at Topper, who was yet to contribute to the conversation. His brows were cinched together in thought, and an indiscernible look clouded his eyes. Kate sighed, and reluctantly nodded in acceptance of your answer, "Okay. But please don't be scared to confide in me. I promise I won't just ditch you like Anna, no matter who it is."

Your lips quirked into a hesitant smile at Kate's promise. You could only hope that she would stay true to her word.

"But just don't go all MIA on us again, okay?" Kate added.

You didn't hesitate to nod in agreement, "I promise I won't."

Kate seemed satisfied enough with your response as she tackled you with one more hug, "We forgive you, you. Right, Top?"

Your eyes met Topper's. He was still clearly deep in thought, but even so, he gave you a sincere nod. You could’ve cried in relief at how well your talk had gone. You knew that this was all temporary and you would have to share the identity of your soulmate eventually; still, you relished the feeling.

Kate retreated to her position underneath the blanket and grabbed the TV remote, "So what are we watching?"

The trio ended up settling on Clueless, despite Topper's groans of protest. You relaxed on the couch and made your way through a bag of M&M's as you watched the story of Cher Horowitz and drooled over young Paul Rudd.

Your attention was diverted from the movie as your phone buzzed in your lap. You furrowed your brows as you set your candy aside to check it.

9:26 PM Unknown: wyd

Your nose scrunched in confusion. Who the hell was texting you at 9 PM on a Thursday? Shivers danced up your arms and your jaw fell slack as realization dawned on you. You had hastily given JJ your number for the purposes of your arrangement when he dropped you off at your house the other night. It had to have been him. Your face paled and your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, your mind drawing a blank as you tried to respond. You weren’t sure why you were so surprised by his text; you had willingly given him your number.

A minute or so passed before the shock settled, and you frowned as you read over his short message again. 'wyd'? Seriously? You scoffed at the douchiest text you’d ever received from a man.

You started typing out a response, before deleting it. You typed again, deleted, and typed again before giving up completely and shutting off your phone for the time being. You were not about to let JJ ruin movie night, you decided.

You felt blunt nails dig harshly into the side of your thigh, and you winced. You rolled your eyes as if JJ could see you. He must have seen that you had begun to type a response but never sent it. You tried to ignore him, but he was relentless. No more than a minute would pass before you would feel the sinking of his nails into your thigh. You ground your teeth and jumped out of your seat, sick of his antics. Topper and Kate both glanced at you curiously.

"Gonna get some water," you mumbled, quickly making your exit.

You gave yourself a harsh slap in the same spot on your thigh as you entered the kitchen, hopefully keeping JJ at bay at least for a little bit while you collected yourself. You pulled your phone out and opened his message once again, biting the inside of your cheek as your fingers once again hovered blankly over the keyboard. Finally, you formulated a lame response.

to Unknown:

can't tonight delivered 9:43 PM

You could literally feel his irritation at your response. Before you could finish pouring yourself a glass of water, your phone buzzed yet again. Just as you finished filling the glass and reached for your phone from the counter, a voice startled you.

"It's a Pogue, isn't it?"

You squeaked and clutched your chest, nearly dropping the water glass. You whipped around and looked at Topper, wide-eyed.

"Jesus, Topper, don't sneak up on me like that!"

He merely cocked a brow in response, waiting patiently for a response. You frowned at the look on his face and set your glass down with a sigh.

"How'd you figure?"

He shrugged, "Wasn't all that hard. You've been acting weird ever since the kegger. And that would explain what I heard from your argument with Anna. I'm surprised Kate didn't put two and two together, but you know how she can be gullible."

You looked down at your feet and slumped against the counter. There was no use denying it. Topper leaned on the counter beside you before continuing, "You don't have to tell me who it is yet. But can you just promise me you won't ditch us?"

You diverted your gaze up to meet his. His eyes were wide with sincerity, and your lips twitched downwards in confusion, "Of course, I would never ditch you guys, why on Earth would you think that?"

Topper shrugged, crossing his arms, "Well I never thought Sarah would completely cut me out of her life."

Your face fell at his response. He had been deeply hurt by her disappearance, and even though he had Kate, he surely missed her as a friend. You immediately felt bad that you hadn't thought of this, and you looped your arm through his, resting your head on his shoulder with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Top. I know it may be hard for you to trust me when I say this, but I promise I will never leave you guys behind like that," you paused before continuing, "You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not."

He chuckled at that, and wrapped an arm around your side, squeezing you softly before releasing you. "I think you're, like, in love with me or something," he teased.

You snorted, "I'd rather kiss a frog."

"You better get back in there, Kate may be gullible but she's not dumb," Topper cocked his head towards the living room while he grabbed his own drink.

You nodded and swiped your phone and water glass from the kitchen counter before striding back into the living room. Kate was completely immersed in the movie, oblivious to your disappearance. You smiled to yourself at the sight and returned to your position on the couch.

You couldn't even put into words the comfort the short chat with Topper bestowed upon you. You knew he wouldn't be thrilled when he found out the identity of your Pogue soulmate. But at least you knew you wouldn't lose him as a friend.

As the thought of the blond Pogue crossed your mind, you pulled out your phone once more and opened your messages.

9:44 PM Unknown: don't be a tease

You quickly typed out a simple, yet effective response and sent it before you could think twice about it. You turned your phone off and settled back into your seat, intent on paying attention to the rest of the movie. You tried your best to ignore the giddy feeling creeping up on you in anticipation of his response.

to Unknown:

tomorrow delivered 9:58 PM

✰✰✰

Your heart pounded as you placed your room. You double-checked that you had locked your door for the 6th time. You smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles on your throw blanket. You fluffed your pillows, checked your makeup, and picked at your hair, all the while unable to take your eyes off of the ticking clock.

11:44 P.M.

He was supposed to be here by now.

You groaned as you desperately tried to find something to busy yourself with and calm your nerves, but to no avail. Why wasn't he here yet?

You checked your phone again. His lack of communication was not surprising, but that didn't stop your heart from dropping yet again at the sight of your empty lock screen. You read through the texts you’d exchanged for the dozenth time with a frown. With each minute that passed, you could feel yourself drifting closer to the conclusion you desperately hoped to avoid: JJ had stood you up.

You trudged towards the windows of the French doors leading to your balcony. You pulled back the curtains and just as you peered outside to the dark yard below, you felt a searing, blinding pain across your cheek.

It happened so fast, you could barely process it.

You stumbled backward as a violent force shoved you. You crumpled onto the ground in a heap. The first kick to your gut took you by surprise, and you cried out in pain. You grabbed a knocked-over pillow just in time to muffle your scream as the second kick came. You wheezed through muffled sobs but were given no reprieve. Kick after kick, you felt like someone was trying to rearrange your insides. You lay in a fetal position, clenching your fists so hard you were sure you were drawing blood. You waited for the familiar feeling of bone crunching underneath your knuckles, but it never came.

Finally, and suddenly it stopped.

You cautiously removed the tear-stained pillow from your mouth. Your gut throbbed so violently that you felt nauseous, and the stinging, invisible cut on your face sent waves of shooting pain to your head each time you blinked. But just when you thought it was over, an unrelenting force squeezed you by the throat.

Your tearful eyes shot wide open. You clawed desperately at your neck, but there was nothing there.

It's not real, it's not real, it's not real, you repeated to yourself in your head like a mantra.

But it was real. It just wasn't yours.

Just when you were beginning to see stars, the pressure constricting your throat disappeared. You spluttered and coughed violently as you gasped for breath, unable to contain the vicious sobs from escaping you.

But worse than the blinding pain plaguing your body was the visceral image of JJ lying crumpled on the ground somewhere, unable to fight back.

You used every ounce of will you had to shut your eyes tight and force yourself to breathe.

In, and out. Do it for him. He needs you.

You unfurled yourself from your position on the ground, fighting against your protesting body.

In, and out.

Your trembling hands reached for the water bottle on your bedside table. You forced the liquid down your aching throat, soothing the burning.

Do it for him.

You forced herself to your feet, continuing with your deep breathing. You slowly stumbled, one foot in front of the next, towards your door. You used the wall to support your weight as you wobbled down the stairs at an agonizingly slow pace.

He needs you.

You felt light headed by the time you had reached the kitchen. You swung open the freezer and blindly grabbed a handful of ice packs. Halfway there, you told yourself. You willed your mind to another place and focused on your breathing as you once again stumbled up the stairs and back to your room. Your hand fumbled with the lock behind you, and you used the last bit of adrenaline coursing through your to collapse onto your bed. Carefully, you laid on your left side, draped one ice pack over your right, and held another against your burning abdomen.

Your eyes fluttered shut and your lips parted at the relief of the cooling sensation. You could only hope it was enough for him to find the strength to get to safety. Your head spun as the adrenaline fueling you had run out. You couldn't find the strength to keep your eyes open, let alone reach for your phone. Your world went black as you gave into the exhaustion, despite your protesting mind.

✰✰✰

TAP TAP

You were shaken awake by a sudden noise.

Your groggy eyes blinked open, and you were instantly reminded of the now dull, throbbing pain in your gut.

TAP TAP

Despite your protesting body, you pushed yourself up. You nearly jumped out of your skin as you looked out the window and found a pair of familiar ocean blues staring back at you. You scrambled to your feet, flinging the now melted ice packs from your body. You moved as quickly as your body allowed to the French doors, swiftly unlocking and swinging them wide open.

your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight before you.

JJ was leaning against the balcony railing, masking the pain you knew was searing his side. Dried blood was smeared across the right side of his face, covering the cut you knew was underneath. The skin surrounding his neck was red, in the early stages of bruising.

But what pained you most was the clash between the boyish, lopsided grin painted on his lips and the agony swimming in his puffy eyes.

"Sorry I'm late, princess," he rasped.

Your bottom lip wobbled, and you launched herself towards him.

JJ stumbled as you buried your tear-stained face in his shoulder and wrapped your shaky arms around his neck. The two teenagers ignored the dull pain in their bodies, as the feeling of being wrapped up in each other provided a cure that rivaled even the strongest of painkillers. He snaked his arms around your waist and held onto your for dear life as you stumbled into your room.

"I'm gonna get blood all over your pretty little silk robe," his gasping breath tickled your ear.

"Shut up," you mumbled into the crook of his neck.

You threaded your trembling fingers through his blond locks, and JJ melted into your healing touch. You stood tangled together for what felt like hours, but were, in reality, mere minutes, each afraid to be the one to pull away.

You shifted in his hold, and pressed your lips against the side of his neck as you barely spoke above a whisper, "Please, let me help you."

He shivered at the feeling of your shaky breath on his bruised skin. JJ swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, before nodding once. You reluctantly untangled yourself from him and threaded your fingers between his, gently tugging him towards your ensuite bathroom. He avoided his reflection in the mirror as you guided him, pushing his shoulders so he sat on the closed toilet.

JJ watched as you crouched down and grabbed a first-aid kit from underneath the sink, alongside a container of cotton balls. You pulled out a small stepping stool and maneuvered it so it sat right in front of him. With all of your tools in place, you sat down on the small stool and assessed the damage. Your hands were gentle as you brushed his hair back. You felt a sharp pang in your heart as you looked closely at the injury on his face.

You bit back the question on the tip of your tongue: Who the hell did this to you?

"Do I still look pretty?" JJ half-heartedly quipped with a grin that didn't reach his tormented eyes.

You gave him a soft, sullen smile as you gently dabbed a wet washcloth around the cut on his face, "You'll be the belle of the ball when I'm done with you."

JJ couldn't help but stare at the way your brows cinched and the tip of your tongue poked out of your mouth as you cleaned the area, careful not to press too hard against his open wound.

"You're really beautiful, you know?" he whispered.

You flushed and you shook your head, "Even at your worst you're still pulling all the stops," you tried to joke off his compliment.

"No stops, just stating the truth."

You tried your best to ignore his beating stare and willed away the blush creeping up your neck. You sighed in relief as you saw that the cut on his cheek, while long, was not deep. You grabbed a cotton ball from your side and doused it with isopropyl.

"This might hurt," you mumbled before dabbing the soaked cotton ball along the site of the wound.

JJ hissed at the burning sensation and jerked away from your touch. You gritted your teeth and squinted as you shared the feeling. You gently intertwined your free hand with his and pulled him back wordlessly. He sucked in a breath as you went back to cleaning the area, forcing himself to remain steady.

You tossed the used cotton ball into the bin beside you. Your eyes trailed down from his cheek to his bruising neck. You pursed your lips at the developing bruises, and he squirmed under your scrutiny. JJ flinched as you delicately brushed the back of your hand over the affected area with a featherlike touch.

"I don't think I can do anything about these, but I can show you how to cover them up," you tried your best to speak in a steady, even tone, but the quiver of your voice at the horrific sight was undeniable. JJ gulped and nodded.

You stood from your seat and rummaged through your makeup drawer. You returned with a tube of concealer in hand. You held it out for him, and JJ cautiously grabbed it from you, examining its contents.

"Start with a little, and blend it out with your fingers until it looks like part of your skin. You can then keep adding more until it's completely covered," you explained softly. He pocketed the makeup, which he would likely be using the next day.

JJ watched as your hands trailed down to the hem of his shirt. He nearly melted when your eyes flicked up to meet his.

"Can I take this off?" you whispered.

His mouth was parched, unable to reply. He nodded again.

You swallowed down a gasp as you inched the material up, revealing a mess of purple and blue painted across his torso. Your heart shattered at the sight and you gulped, willing yourself to maintain composure. He raised his arms with a wince and pulled his shirt over his head, giving you a full view of the damage. You pressed softly against his abdomen and felt the sharp pain in your own.

JJ cleared his throat, "I don't think there's much you can do about that," he referred to the bruises.

You gnawed your lip in thought, and your heart skipped a beat as JJ pressed his thumb against your bottom lip, pulling it out from between your teeth, "That's a really awful habit you have, you know."

You sucked in a breath as he ran his thumb along your lip, speechless.

"Compression can help with the swelling," you whispered, "If you'll let me wrap you up."

He nodded once.

You rummaged through your supply kit once more, pulling out a roll of elastic bandage. You worked slowly to not impose any unwanted pressure and ensure the bandage was wrapped with the proper amount of tension. JJ glanced down at the mess of bruises, instantly regretting his decision. He diverted his gaze to the white wall behind you.

"You can ask me," he broke the silence.

You paused your work, before slowly continuing, "Ask you what?"

He quickly replied, "What you've been dying to ask me since I showed up at your window."

You slowed as we neared the end of the area you needed to cover. You gently attached the velcro, careful not to press too hard against his side. Finally, your eyes flicked up to meet his, which were still trained on the wall behind.

"Who did this to you?" you rasped, your voice strained.

Unshed tears glossed over the ocean blues you were quickly growing to love. His lips curled into an eerie grin, "My old man's always been a mean drunk."

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach and the roll of bandage fell from your hand.

For years, you’d felt the consequences of JJ's lifestyle. You were no stranger to the feeling of broken noses, bruised ribs, and black eyes. But you’d always chopped it up to your soulmate's reckless lifestyle. They were constantly getting themselves into trouble, and you were the poor bystander. You'd built up this image of them, an image of a soldier fresh out of war, battered but victorious. Never had you considered that they may be victim to a wickedness like no other.

A flood of emotions engulfed you. Shame, for assuming the worst of your other half. Anger, that a father could inflict such pain on his son. But most of all, heartache.

Your jaw fell slack and you watched as a single tear escaped the corner of JJ's right eye, trailing down the crevices of his face before finding refuge in the wrinkle of his sinister smile.

With a trembling hand, you caressed his jaw and delicately wiped the tear from his face. He shook his head violently as he buried his face in his hands.

You clambered onto his lap and snaked your arms around him. You tried with all your might to maintain composure as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. His body trembled as you wrapped your legs around him. You used one hand to rub soothing circles into his back, while the other gently threaded through his hair.

"Please, don't pity me," he choked out, his breath tickling the nape of your neck.

You shook your head as you felt tears pricking at your eyes, "I don't pity you, JJ," you whispered into his ear, "You're so strong. Stronger than I ever really knew." His grip around your waist tightened.

You propped your chin on top of his head as he fell limp against you, relinquishing control and giving in to your embrace. You sat entangled on the porcelain toilet, unmoving. The two of you remained wrapped around each other until you lost feeling in your legs. You reluctantly unraveled your legs from around him so they dangled off his lap. You loosened your grip enough so you could rest your forehead against his.

You sat there, nose to nose, bloodshot eyes trained on one another, lips parted with bated breaths. You ran your fingers through his hair as you spoke softly, "Will you stay here tonight?"

JJ's puffy eyes shot down and he lurched forward in one swift motion. You gasped as he molded his lips against yours. The kiss was languid, but intoxicating all the same. The salty taste of his tears made it all the more electrifying as your lips moved together in sync. Your elegant fingers were gentle against the roughness of his jaw as you held him impossibly closer. And as your lips moved against JJ's, you realized that his pain had vanished, even if just for a moment. The fractured teenagers remained like this, glued together until their lips were swollen and they could no longer breathe.

"As much as I'd love to stay like this all night," JJ gasped, blue eyes swimming with desire, "I think I lost feeling in my legs 10 minutes ago."

His lips quirked into a smile as he watched you scramble from your seat on his lap, muttering apologies along the way. He couldn't help but indulge in the sight of you like this: wide-eyed, tousled hair, and robe askew, revealing a lacy bralette underneath. JJ pulled himself to his feet with a wince, now towering over you.

He ran the back of his fingers down the curve of your breast against the exposed lace, "You put on this pretty little number for me?"

You flushed and hastily readjusted your robe. You rolled your eyes in a pitiful attempt to conceal the effect he had on you.

"You know women don't always dress for men," you spoke with little conviction. But you certainly had.

As you cleaned up your discarded supplies, JJ finally looked at his reflection in the mirror. His breath hitched as he took in your handiwork; aside from the thin cut along his cheek and his puffy eyes, his face looked normal. His neck, on the other hand, was another case entirely. He gulped at the sight of the developing bruises and diverted his gaze elsewhere. While you continued with your tidying, he wandered towards the bedroom.

His jaw clicked as he took in his surroundings for the first time. Your bedroom was obscenely large. A fluffy, white carpet covered the polished wooden floors, and a king-sized bed stood proudly in the middle of the area. The dozens of pillows against the elaborate headboard elicited a scoff from JJ. Two pillows were a luxury for him, let alone 12. He kicked off his mud-caked boots and walked towards the bed, running his hand along the silk sheets peeking out from underneath the duvet. It looked like something straight out of The Princess and the Pea. He snorted at the thought; with all your pillows and silk sheets, you probably did sleep like the princess from the old fairy tale.

JJ found himself drawn to the upright piano. He ran his fingers across the pristine, white keys of the instrument, and pressed one finger down slowly onto an F. He felt the tension of the hammer hitting the string inside the instrument and listened in awe to the crisp tone that filled the room. His eyes wandered to the book propped open on the stand, battered and bent so that the pages wouldn't flip. His brows furrowed at the mess of tiny little notes and narrow measures, filled with pencil scribbles here and there.

JJ felt your presence creep up behind him. He glanced at you briefly, before returning to the piece of sheet music, "How the hell do you make sense of this shit? I think I'd have better luck reading in Chinese."

Your lips quirked and you hummed in amusement, "I never really thought of it that way, but I guess it kind of is like a different language."

He pressed down on another key.

"That's middle C," you commented.

"Middle who?" JJ questioned.

You couldn't help but giggle softly, "Each key has a name. They go from A to F, and middle C is the 4th C from the left," you explained.

JJ sat down on the bench as he pressed the same note again, "So how do you find the other C's?"

You sat beside him, "You can think of the whole piano in chunks, and each chunk is this thing called an octave," youplayed C5, "This is the next C key, so from middle C to here is an octave," youplayed C6, "And from where I just was to here is another octave."

He nodded, still perplexed by the instrument. "What about all the keys in between?"

You gracefully placed your hand on middle C, and made your way up the keyboard, naming each note as you played it, "C, D, E, F, G, A, B, and then back to C."

"What about the black keys?" JJ questioned, now playing an E.

"Don't worry about those, for now," you laughed airily.

You gently grabbed his right hand and guided it onto the keyboard. You positioned his thumb on middle C, his middle finger on E, and his pinky on G. You then placed your hand over his, and gently pushed down on these three fingers, indicating to him which ones to play. JJ watched in awe as the aurally pleasing combination of keys rang through the air.

"That's a C major chord," you explained, and he played it again. You guided his hand down an octave, and positioned his fingers in the same manner, instructing him to push down again, "And you can play it on any octave."

JJ was mesmerized by the instrument as you continued to show up the basics. You taught him how to play an arpeggio, albeit slowly, and after his unrelenting questioning about the mysterious black keys, you explained sharps and flats. He was so entranced by your knowledge of the instrument that the pain in his gut merely felt like a distant ache.

"Can you play something for me?" he asked, watching as the left corner of your pink lips twitched upwards.

You hummed in thought and shifted closer towards him so you sat on the center of the bench. JJ watched intently as you took a deep breath, shut your eyes, and let your hands fall onto the keys as you exhaled. Your eyes flicked open, and your fingers moved on their own accord as you played the opening sequence of Chopin's Nocturne in E flat major, a piece you had memorized for years now. JJ's ears perked at the familiar melody he must have heard in a movie before.

The sound your nimble fingers produced was captivating, and he found himself drunk off of the gentle, soothing melody. What captivated him most was not the nocturne itself, but rather, the ease with which you played. He watched, awestruck, as your hands glided across the keys with a fluidity he didn't know the human body possessed. your elbows never dipped and your back remained straight, but you still moved with the melody in a way that both unsettled and mesmerized him. your eyes fluttered shut as you played the last note. you waited until the tone had completely dissipated before opening them and removing your hands from the instrument.

You turned to JJ to find his eyes already trained on you. His lips parted and he rasped, "Do it again."

You released an airy laugh and shook your head, "Maybe another time," your eyes flit up to the clock hanging on the wall above, "It's almost 2 AM."

JJ shrugged, "The night's still young."

"And you're still injured," you retorted.

He huffed but relented as he knew he was on the losing end of this battle. You stood from the bench and pad towards your walk-in closet. Your cheeks flushed as you untied the front of your robe, and looked down at your lingerie. You hadn't known what a turn the night would take, but you still couldn't help but feel silly in your outfit. You didn't dare glance at JJ as you kept your back turned and dropped the robe, leaving you in a matching bralette and panties. you reached behind your to undo the clasp but jumped as JJ's hands covered yours and his breath tickled your neck. You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.

"Let me do it."

You relented and dropped your arms. You shivered at the feeling of his fingers on your back. He swiftly unclasped the bra and guided it down your arms. He groaned at the sight of your bare breasts, and you shivered at the sound. His rough hands snaked around your waist and roamed up your body as he pressed his lips against your collarbone. You gasped as he flicked your nipples with his thumbs, and they pebbled under his touch. You whined as he thrust his hips against your ass. You could feel his arousal both in the pit of your own stomach and poking behind you.

"You're so sexy when you play," he rasped against your neck, "I'd do anything to have you play one more song for me like this."

It took everything in you not to melt under his electrifying touch. Despite your protesting body, you pulled herself forward from his gasp and turned to face him, forcing his gaze upwards to meet your eyes.

"You're hurt and you need sleep," you spoke sternly.

You reached behind him to grab an oversized t-shirt, but he swiftly took it from your hands. "I'm all better now. Please," he pleaded, dipping his head back down towards you.

You stepped back and snatched the shirt back from his hands, pulling it over your head before he could protest. "No, you're not. Don't try to bullshit me; you forget that I can literally feel that you're lying."

JJ groaned, but yet again relented, as he knew you were right; as much as it irritated him.

He followed you to the bed and watched as you tossed aside the majority of the pillow mountain and pulled back the covers. He followed your lead and removed his shorts, leaving him in his boxers. JJ crawled underneath the covers as you turned off the lights, leaving only your bedside lamp. He nearly moaned at the soothing feeling of your plush mattress. He felt like he was being enveloped by a cloud, completely weightless. JJ slowly turned himself onto his good side and waited patiently for his other half.

You fought back a smile at the sight of JJ wrapped up in the fluffy confines of your bed. You crawled in beside him and turned to face him, your noses just inches apart. You lay there studying each other, neither of you wanting to be the first to break the comfortable silence.

Finally, JJ cleared his throat, "Thank you."

A sad smile graced your lips, "Don't thank me."

JJ's mind screamed at him to run. He barely knew you, and frankly, didn't like you. He had let you in on the darkest, most vulnerable piece of himself, and the thought alone terrified him. But his body relished in the comfort of you--the comfort of your healing touch and soothing words. There was something so captivating about you that made him want to open himself up completely, and let you read every page of his book.

You also had a million thoughts racing through your mind. You wanted so badly to plead with him to stay--stay in the safety of your arms, and never return to his broken home. But you couldn't find the words to say this, and you were terrified of overstepping and pushing him away.

You let out a shaky sigh, and spoke slowly, "If this ever happens again," you both knew the 'if' was a 'when', but you didn't want to admit that, "Or if you just need an escape, please come back here."

JJ knew that wasn't what you really wanted to say, but he feigned ignorance. Instead, he nodded and wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging your closer. JJ pressed his lips against yours softly in a fleeting kiss.

"You're too good to me, Montgomery," he mumbled against you, sending a shiver up your spine.

You pressed your lips firmly against his once more before turning your body and shutting off the light, leaving you in darkness. You leaned back against him and pressed your back against his front as he wrapped an arm around your waist and rested his chin in the crook of your shoulder. You fluttered your eyes as you relished in the undeniable comfort of his arms. The rhythmic sound of his breathing and the beat of his heart lulled you into a calmness like none you had ever experienced before.

And while you knew that this was the calm before the storm, you gave yourself to naivety, and slipped from consciousness completely.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank smut #outer banks #jj mayback imagine #jj x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #soulmate au

158 notes · View notes

lucky-clover-gazette · 6 months ago

Text

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 7

edit: there is much better analysis in this follow-up post, although it does build on the stuff i wrote here

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

There were very few problems, the public killings having been good for the soldiers’ morale.

so where are the people like me in this world who would like pass out witnessing that. just too desensitized to care?

The Veretian herald was named Hendric and he had very strong arms, because banners were heavy.

Damen and Laurent were to ride alongside one another. Neither one of them had the better horse.

THEIR HORSES!! BACK TOGETHER DESPITE ALL ODDS!! because they’re definitely the same ones that fell in love during prince's gambit shut up

Damen was taller, but nothing could be done about that, Hendric had said with an impenetrable expression. Hendric, Damen was learning, had something in common with Laurent, in that it was never a simple matter to tell when he was joking.

give laurent a comedically large hammer and he’ll find a way

‘I hope the injured boy was returned to you safely.’ ‘Thank you, he returned with Paschal,’ said Laurent. For a salve? Damen opened his mouth to say, and didn’t.

throwback <3 but kings can’t have inside jokes :(

In the next moment, the horns rang out, triumphant and lonely at the same time, the pure sound absorbed by the sky and the wide open landscape around them.

“triumphant and lonely” nice detail

He remembered exactly how it had looked, and that was why he didn’t recognise it at first: the forest of broken spears was gone, and there were no gouged ruts in the earth, no men face down in the churned mud. Marlas was now a tumble of grass and wildflowers in the blowy, sweet summer weather, shifting back and forth in the gentle air. Here and there an insect droned, a drowsy sound. A dragonfly dipped and darted.

i like this :) we don’t get a lot of love for nature in this series, so i’ll take what i get. especially nice when nature represents healing and the passage of time.

Lining the hall were two dozen slaves.

oh this is going to be a headache. but it’s a headache worth having, because i’ve approached these annotations so far with integrity and fairness, and i refuse to treat this subject any differently. i don’t want to just ignore the things that are more difficult or less fun to unpack in order to get to the fun shipping stuff, i want to analyze them to the best of my ability and feel as comfortable as i possibly can moving forward.

so let’s set up some context:

1) damen has come a long way from his stance on slavery in book 1. he is actively refusing to partake in this expected custom, and finds the institution disturbing and triggering. he has developed a new appreciation for sex with truly consenting (not trained) partners, aka laurent, and can’t really go back. still, his reasons for refraining here are almost entirely based on his evolving sense of morality, not really relating to his relationship with laurent at all. for more on that moral evolution, see my analysis in chapter 4. further proof of this Really Mattering to damen is the fact that by not taking slaves, he is losing points with his own people. another great hint of his development as a king, making his own authoritative decisions rather than upholding tradition.

2) laurent does not like slavery. he does not think it is morally correct, and has made many jabs at damen throughout the series for disagreeing. he is disturbed by idea of people who have been groomed into relinquishing their own free will. if put in the situation of damen in book 1, laurent would not have been nearly as compliant or allowing—honestly, he probably would have tried to kill his master, and failing that, kill himself.

HOWEVER. vere does not do slavery. slavery had never been a relevant issue to laurent, at least until he was gifted a slave of his own and was made to deal with them in negotiations with patras. slavery is a thing other countries do, to laurent, and his current objective is make nice with a country that keeps slaves. therefore, he knows that his only real option is to keep the appearance of partaking in the custom, even if damen can get away with refusal. and i think we can safely assume that in laurent’s vere, there will be no slavery, even if he’s taking up the appearance of a slave owner now. additionally, i think we can also assume that there will be reform of the country’s pet system, which is an issue much more relevant to laurent’s lived experience.

if the stuff with laurent and slaves here was simply performative and un-indulgent, i wouldn’t need to be writing anything more here. but it is, as it is, one of the few things in the series that makes me feel very conflicted (see also: the garden scene in book 1). because while it’s true that laurent doesn’t actually use isander as a sex slave, and does have this kind of passive disdain for slavery, he does use isander in another way. he uses isander, a non-consenting brainwashed slave, as a way to make damen, who has never actually been a slave, jealous. this is an abuse of power that directly conflicts with laurent’s stated and assumed values regarding free will and individual personhood. we’ve seen things like this before, in arles, but laurent had known that damen was a prince and not a slave the entire time. but isander is a victim of this system—even if isander himself doesn’t know that, laurent damn well does. and laurent historically is someone who advocates for victims. so the fact that his morals here are being set aside in favor of a petty gesture against damen, is… disappointing. everything i said in chapter 3/4 about laurent’s mean girl era still stands: he knows he’s being shitty, and he’s doing it because he doesn’t want to be vulnerable and insecure. better to be a villain than a victim, etc. but laurent being a villain to damen, who laurent knows is perfectly capable of defending himself, is distinctly different from laurent parading out isander the slave just to hurt damen’s feelings.

it’s wrong for the obvious moral reasons, which laurent perfectly understands in the abstract. but it’s not a hill he’s going to die on here, and that’s not just because of the political advantage. this is 100% about personal shit with damen too. and sorry laurent, but slavery does not stop being wrong when it’s useful in creating drama with your ex. in fact, indulging in it for that reason specifically trivializes all of the legitimate problems with the practice. it makes laurent a hypocrite and it crosses a line, in terms of his mean girl schtick. i just want to make that clear—that there is very much a difference between laurent just being kinda cunty to damen in general, and specifically using a slave as tool in that cuntiness.

laurent is, and always has been, a morally complex and often hypocritical character. he has done things that have made me feel uncomfortable to read, like the way he treats damen in the garden scene. and that’s okay, and it doesn’t make him a bad character, or even a bad person. and to be fair, he isn’t doing any practical harm here—if he hadn’t chosen isander to kinda just vaguely flirt with in public and then leave alone in private, someone else probably would have done far worse. and that is an easy cop-out, and it’s not wrong. but still.

the problem isn’t with laurent's actions here, necessarily, but the principle. which is usually what laurent himself cares about the most, as he often values the ends above the means. politics aside, i think that laurent would readily admit post-mean girl era that the ends of making damen jealous did not, and should not, justify the means of using another human being who does not possess free will. maybe he even does that in the text, eventually, and i’ve forgotten.

(also, let’s not forget that isander may have been trained to not have his own feelings, but definitely still has them, because he’s a human being. and it probably makes him feel pretty bad to be chosen and then ignored by laurent. not that it should, because the entire thing is super fucked up, but it’s what he’s been groomed to believe. like, i did just want to throw that in somewhere, even though it’s obviously predicated on brainwashing and a lack of free will. it’s still what he’s feeling, and his feelings matter. just as much as damen’s or laurent’s.)

basically: laurent is failing to be honorable in his usage of isander, even if he’s not using isander as a sex slave as intended. his abstract values about the wrongness of slavery take a back seat to the political and interpersonal advantage of not only passively partaking in the custom, but actively using it to make damen jealous. even if laurent needs to pretend to take a slave to be politically accepted, he does not need to do All That. and honestly, with laurent’s ability to convince and command a crowd, i think we all know deep down that if he didn’t at least want to do this at least a little bit, just to piss damen off, he would find a way out of it. and that is a reality of laurent’s characterization here that i have to deal with, similar to his actions in the garden scene.

and then there’s the other thing that laurent's "performance" with isander has in common with the garden scene:

it’s hot. it’s wrong, and hypocritical, and could have been done in a way that would better suit my personal tastes, but yes, it’s hot. and on top of that, it’s also VERY funny. laurent’s performance, damen’s reactions, and isander’s obliviousness are all very, very funny. and i do want to be able to enjoy them for the petty gestures they are, and joke about them, without constantly having to throw in a “but also this is bad.” so doing this initial disclaimer feels like a happy medium to me, where i’m not ignoring the complexity of the situation entirely, but i’m also conceding that it’s not necessarily meant to be taken seriously, and it’s ultimately written for the reader to enjoy. like, don’t get me wrong, most of the slavery stuff in this series has NOT been written for the reader’s enjoyment—the values here are very clear, especially in damen’s arc—but there are still some indulgent moments. and it is fiction. and these characters aren’t perfect, nor did they create the culture of the kingdoms that they’re about to rule. and they do ultimately change the things that they, and we the reader, know are wrong.

but just like with the garden scene, i can’t quite get myself to write “so it’s totally fine to just have fun with the whole slavery thing” as a conclusion. and honestly, i feel pretty okay about that hesitancy. when i make jokes about this subject in this specific context (laurent and isander), i don’t want it to be forgotten that the subject itself (slavery) is still entirely serious. so instead, i’ll say:

this is fun because manipulative petty lamen mind games are fun. this is hot because manipulative petty lamen mind games are hot. this is somewhat intended as a backhanded insult and display of moral superiority—laurent showing damen how awful he and his culture appear to non-slave owners—but that moral superiority ultimately falls short due to laurent’s hypocritical use of a slave to make damen jealous. all of those separate pieces of analysis are true to the overall experience of reading and interpreting these scenes. it’s a mixed bag, we know it’s a mixed bag, laurent knows it’s a mixed bag, and damen knows it’s a mixed bag. the only relevant person who doesn’t know it’s a mixed bag is isander, because he’s a slave and isn’t allowed to think for himself, and that fucking sucks.

Isander was olive-skinned and lithe as a fawn, with dark hair and eyes: Akielon colouring. He shared that with Nikandros; with Damen.

yeah i’m sure that’s just a coincidence

Male, either in deference to Veretian customs, or to suit Laurent’s assumed preferences.

akielon slave owners, trying to assess laurent’s preferences:

(can you tell my heart still isn’t fully in the humor here…)

Nikandros would never offer royalty anything less than a slave’s First Night.

god, the first night thing is fucked up. in general, i love the lack of like… uh… traditionally conservative (read: christian) attitudes about sex in capri, so the few similarities especially give me the ick. i haven’t read or annotated the erasmus short story yet, but i know it’s going to piss me off too. basically, the closer we get to the handmaid’s tale, the more i want to read complicit characters dying horrifically on the page. nikandros and the other akielons are skirting by for now with the plausible deniability they have re: fully understanding how slaves are trained, but they’re on thin fucking ice.

also, lighter side question, what’s the recommended reading order for the short stories?

sweet grace of a palace slave

gag

‘I like that one,’ said Laurent.

>:(

‘Slaves are trained in the arts of pleasure, but they do not lie with another until their First Night,’ Kolnas said. ‘Here we use the same strict, classical training that is used in the royal palace. Skills are learned through instruction, and practised with indirect methods. The slave remains wholly untouched, kept pure for the first use of the Exalted.’

imagine if real-life cultural customs were built around grooming a certain group of people to be sexually submissive and modest as a thinly-veiled way to control their sexuality and ensure that they are attached to dominant societal figures from a young age without the education or free will to consider themselves actual human beings, so they can unquestioningly spend their entire lives as sex machines and domestic servants defined entirely by their responsibility to the family, and then they die and their headstone identifies them by their status as a possession of their dominant partner. wouldn’t that be fucked up

‘I never did learn how to command a bed slave,’ said Laurent. ‘Teach me.’

guys i wish i could find this hot or funny but now i’m just mad about disturbing stuff in real life that i can’t analyze out of existence. i’m taking a break and eating a chocolate strawberry greek yogurt popsicle and then i’ll try to refocus on the funny toxic gay people

‘They cannot speak Veretian, Your Highness,’ Kolnas explained. ‘In the Akielon language, using the plain form of address is appropriate. To command any act of service is to honour a slave. The more personal the service, the greater the honour.’ ‘Really? Come here,’ said Laurent.

laurent go sit in the corner.

Laurent extended the tip of his boot. ‘Kiss it,’ he said. His eyes were on Damen.

god this is so good. i hate it so much.

to be fair, there is no way to do this that would be more effective than laurent using a slave. because, y’know, damen was his “slave.” it wouldn’t hit the same with some random non-slave guy. laurent wants to fuck with damen’s head, and part of that is making him miss something he most certainly should not be missing. laurent is also fucking with my head, because this gesture is so conflictingly wrong and compelling, a word which in this case means "something i’m embarrassed/ashamed to say that i find hot."

‘Good boy,’ said Laurent, reaching down to pet Isander’s dark curls, while Isander’s eyes closed and he flushed over.

(easy joke to make, but we’re all probably thinking it) damen:

(also, this being the only “good boy” in the entire series is just diabolical. but i get why it is, because i think it might not be the only one—and if it isn’t the only one, that means the regent says it at some point, and that’s exactly why it’s never used in a lamen sex scene.)

Kolnas preened, pleased that his selection was appreciated. Damen could see that the fort’s household around them was also pleased, having gone to great lengths to make Laurent feel welcome. They had considered with intense thoughtfulness Veretian culture and Veretian practices.

i sense some slight snarkiness here—not even from damen, but from the narrative itself. there’s palpable irony in the “great lengths” and “thoughtfulness” of akielions considering veretian culture while presenting laurent with slaves, all while veretian culture doesn’t have slavery.

It was pointless. There were two dozen slaves here, while the number of times Laurent had had sex in his life could probably be counted on one hand. Laurent was just going to be dragging twenty-four young men back to his rooms to sit around doing nothing. They wouldn’t even be able to unlace Veretian clothing.

according to damen:

this is stupid.

laurent is, in all ways but physical, a loser virgin.

he’s going to set out board games for those sex slaves. he’s going to throw them a pizza party. he’s going to answer emails the entire time.

they don’t even know how to unlace laurent’s clothing like i do.

this is stupid.

‘Can he also serve me in the baths?’ said Laurent.

CUNT.

‘And at the feast for the bannermen this evening when they give their pledge, if that pleases you, Your Highness,’ said Kolnas. ‘It pleases me,’ said Laurent.

damen is about to throw up on the floor

Cloth wound around his waist and over his shoulder, the sort of ceremonial Akielon garb that you could unreel from a person by taking hold of one end and pulling while they rotated.

looney toons-ass imagery

He could feel their discomfort, their need to debase themselves; this sort of proximity to royalty permitted only the extreme submissiveness of slaves.

thank you damen for being the only normal person here. you've come a long way.

“discomfort, their need to debase themselves” is something book 1 damen would have found adorable and charming. he definitely wouldn’t have worded it like this, back then.

“this sort of proximity to royalty permitted only the extreme submissiveness of slaves” building on the damen vs. kingship theme, he thinks he can’t have real love or intimacy or vulnerability if he’s a king. he can’t truly be paired with an equal, because he needs to be exalted.

He had sent away the slaves.

damen you’re the only one i’m not at mad at in this chapter. actually i liked the funny banner guy, we’re chill too. and isander is just trying his best

Laurent, he knew, was rooming in the adjoining suite, separated from him by a single wall. Damen was in the King’s chambers, which any lord who built a fort installed, in the hope the King would stop there. But even the former lord of Marlas’s optimism had not stretched to the idea that the heads of two royal families would visit simultaneously. To preserve their arrangements of scrupulous equality, Laurent was in the Queen’s chambers, beyond that wall.

i’m getting so much whiplash from this chapter like yeah this is funny and cute but also is the slavery stuff just normal to people like i’m aware the series started from a specific subculture and kink and body of literary work, so i guess i’m the weird one and the outsider here for being so distracted??

Isander was probably tending him, gamely doing his best with the laces. He would have to unhook the lacings on the back of the neck of Laurent’s riding leathers before drawing them through their eyelets. Or Laurent had taken Isander into the baths, to be undressed by him there. Isander would be flushed with pride at being chosen for the task. Attend me. Damen felt his hands curl into fists.

i don’t think i need to point out in a note, every single time, that damen being jealous of isander is funny and his possessiveness of laurent is hot. but i will still highlight the passages where it happens.

He turned his mind to political matters.

good call buddy, you and i are going to get through this chapter together

Men and women reclined on couches

(said apprehensively, given the overall themes of this chapter) ...women?

Makedon leaned, selecting a slice of peeled orange. Pallas, the handsome officer-champion, reclined with the easy posture that spoke to his aristocratic blood. Straton had hitched his skirts up and drawn his legs onto the couch, crossing them at the ankles. Everyone whom rank or office entitled to be here was assembled, and with every northerner of standing gathered to give their pledge, the hall was packed full. The Veretians present were mostly vertical, standing awkwardly in small groups, one or two perched gingerly on the edge of a seat.

There was no trumpet flourish or herald’s announcement, as there would have been in Vere.

okay i didn’t realize there was a trumpet flourish in vere. that is very funny in retrospect. a trumpet is not the instrument i’d choose to announce laurent’s arrival. in arles especially, i personally think that a halloween sfx cd would have been much more appropriate

Laurent didn’t rise. He wasn’t required to. He just watched from his reclining couch, as the hall prostrated itself. He had cultivated an elegant sprawl, with his arm draped over his couch back, and his leg drawn up, revealing the arc of an exquisitely clad thigh. His fingers dangled. Silk rucked around his knee.

laurent lean #14. kings leaning.

Isander was prostrated, an inch from Laurent’s casually draped fingertips, his lithe body bare. He wore a brief garment like a Vaskian man’s cloth. His collar fit him like a second skin. Laurent sat relaxed, every line of his body arranged tastefully against the couch. Damen made himself stroll forward through the silence. Their twin couches were next to each other. ‘Brother,’ Laurent said, pleasantly.

no comment

The eyes of everyone in the hall were on him. He felt their gazes, their underfed curiosity. He heard the murmurs—it really is him, Damianos, alive and here—accompanied by the brazen looks, looking at him, looking at the gold cuff on his wrist, looking at Laurent in his Veretian clothes like an exotic ornament—so that is the Veretian Prince. And beneath that the speculation that was never spoken aloud.

at least one akielon politics rpf truther is losing their mind rn. we have gaylor, this world has gaymianos

Laurent was scrupulously correct in the face of it, his behaviour immaculate, even his use of the slave was an act of unimpeachable etiquette. In Akielos it pleased the host for a guest to make use of his hospitality. And it pleased the Akielon people for their royal family to take slaves, a sign of virility and power, and a cause of great pride.

narrows my eyes

Barieus stepped forward. ‘I want assurances that Vere does not hold undue influence over Akielos.’ Undue influence. ‘Speak plainly.’ ‘They say the Prince of Vere is your lover.’

found the gaymianos truther

‘Who we take to our bed is not your concern.’

well i mean if you’re using the royal “we” to represent the kingdom, then yeah… it kinda is?

‘Shall I tell them what really happened between us? They want to know,’ Laurent said. Laurent began to unlace the cuff of his sleeve, drawing the ties through the eyelets, then opening the fabric to expose the fine underside of his wrist—and then the unmistakable gold of the slave cuff.

Laurent leaned his wrist elegantly on the curved arm of the couch, the open sleeve reminiscent of a delicate open shirt collar, its laces trailing. ‘Do I have the question clear?’ said Laurent, speaking in Akielon. ‘You are asking if I lay with the man who killed my own brother?’ Laurent wore the slave cuff with utter disregard. He had no owner, the aristocratic arrogance of his posture said that. Laurent had always possessed an essential quality of the untouchable. He cultivated a faultless grace on the reclining couch, his chiselled profile and marble-chip eyes those of a statue. The idea that he would let anyone fuck him was impossible.

and damen is so into it. love love love the contrast with the description of slaves in this chapter. damen doesn’t want them, he wants laurent. he sees laurent as a complete and compelling person. there is honor in laurent’s performative submission—wearing the cuff—because damen respects laurent’s personhood. but he’s no longer able to see the submission of slaves as honorable, because he knows they’re fucking slaves who have been robbed of their personhood entirely.

Barieus said, ‘A man would have to be ice-cold to sleep with his brother’s killer.’ ‘Then you have your answer,’ said Laurent. There was a silence, in which Laurent’s gaze held that of Barieus. ‘Yes, Exalted.’ Barieus bowed his head, and unconsciously used the Akielon Exalted, rather than the Veretian titles Highness or Majesty.

a vine boom echoed through the court

‘Well, Barieus?’ said Damen. Barieus knelt two steps before the dais. ‘I will pledge. I see that the Prince of Vere stands with you. It’s right that we swear to you here, on the site of your greatest victory.’

“he is simply too cunty for us to deny his authority.”

Slaves brought the food. Squires served Damen, since he had made his preferences clear. It was an awkward arrangement that displeased everyone in the hall.

YES DAMEN!

Isander was utterly in love with his master. He strove continuously to do well, selecting each delicacy for Laurent to sample, bringing him only the best, in small, shallow dishes, refreshing the water bowl for Laurent to clean his fingers. He did it all with perfect form, discreetly attentive, and never drawing attention to himself. His eyelashes drew attention to themselves. Damen made himself look elsewhere.

but that’s not real love, and damen knows it. laurent knows it too. and damen did it way better in nesson-elroy

Laurent said, ‘Play The Fall of Inachtos,’ and a murmur of approval passed over the hall. Kolnas, the Keeper of Slaves, congratulated Laurent on his knowledge of Akielon epics. ‘It’s one of your favourites, isn’t it?’ said Laurent, transferring his gaze to Damen.

diabolical. need this energy for the lamen divorce playlists (they each have their own)

He had always liked the depiction of Akielons cutting down their enemies, as Nisos rode out to kill Inachtos, and take his walled city. He didn’t want to hear it now.

yayyy character development

It was Loyse and not Guion that Jord was approaching. She gave him a cursory look. ‘Yes?’ There was an awkward pause. ‘I just wanted to say . . . that I’m sorry for your loss. Your son was a good fighter.’ ‘Thank you, soldier.’ She gave him the token attention a lady might give to any servant, and turned back to her conversation with her husband.

loyse hiiiiiii loyse (said with appropriate sadness for her current state of grief)

Jord gazed at him for a long moment, then indicated Laurent with his chin. ‘I’m glad you two are friends,’ said Jord.

jord always knows exactly when to show up and make ill-timed commentary on damen and laurent's relationship

‘I thought when he found out about you, he’d swear revenge,’ said Jord. ‘He knew all along,’ said Damen. ‘It’s good that you could trust each other,’ said Jord. And then: ‘I think before you came, he didn’t really trust anyone.’ Damen said, ‘He didn’t.’

also isn’t it like SUPER awkward for jord to be around guion and loyse right now

Isander was bringing Laurent a sprig of grapes in a small dish. Laurent said something approving, and gestured for Isander to join him on the reclining couch. Isander glowed, shyly besotted. As Damen watched, Isander picked a single grape from the sprig, and lifted it to Laurent’s lips. Laurent leaned in. He twined a finger around a curl of Isander’s hair and allowed himself to be fed, grape by grape, a prince with a new favourite.

damen is about to start scratching the walls like a cat confronted with a closed door

He lifted the wine blindly. The cup was empty. Straton wasn’t the only Akielon departing with a slave; men and women throughout the hall were availing themselves. The wine, and the slaves enacting the battle were breaking down inhibitions. Akielon voices grew loud, emboldened by wine.

between the heavy drinking and sex practices, the akielon court actually sounds like my living hell. and we haven’t even gotten to the naked sports chapter yet

Laurent leaned in further to murmur something intimately into Isander’s ear, and then, as the recitation reached its climax, the clash of swords like the hammering in his chest, Damen saw Laurent tap Isander’s shoulder, and rise. I’d wager you never thought a prince could be jealous of a slave. At this moment I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat. Torveld’s words. He said, ‘Excuse me.’

The entire court around him rose as he pushed up from his couch-throne.

“couch-throne”

Trying to follow Laurent out, he got tangled in ceremony, the hall a stifling press of bodies and noise, and, as a blond head disappeared towards the doorway, he was stopped by party after party blocking his path.

okay i’m so curious what he’s meaning to do when he catches up to laurent. yell at him? yell at isander? throw up?

He ought to have brought a slave of his own, then the crowd would have melted away, understanding: the King wished privacy.

i am begging the protagonists of this book to stop using human people as objects. again maybe that’s just a me problem, this isn’t my usual genre and the akielon slavery system clearly doesn’t align with my kink sensibilities, but COME ON

The corridor was empty when he strode out into it. His heart was pounding. He turned the first corner into a section of the passage, half expecting to catch Laurent’s retreating figure. Instead, he saw a stark, empty arch with all its Veretian lattice stripped away. Under the arch was Isander, standing with his fawn eyes, looking confused and abandoned. His confusion was such that for a moment he just stared at Damen with wide eyes before he seemed to understand what was happening, and folded to the floor, forehead to the stone. Damen said, ‘Where is he?’ Isander was well trained, even if nothing was happening as he had expected tonight; and even if, rather mortifyingly, he was being asked to report this fact to his King. ‘His Highness of Vere has gone for a ride.’

well at least if “going on a ride” is laurent code for “feeling morally and emotionally troubled,” that’s… less disappointing, i guess.

also, i do realize that this is the place where laurent’s brother was killed, currently taken over by the nation that orchestrated and benefitted from his death. so there’s probably a twisted vindication in learning exactly how fucked up their culture is (asking about the first night, etc), and getting whatever kind of enjoyment out of the whole situation he can (pissing off damen). but there still had to be a crash, and as soon as laurent was excused from his duties he dipped to deal with it alone.

‘At the stables a handler might know his destination. This slave can inquire.’

i caaaaaan’t stand the way they’re denied use of personal pronouns

Closer; the approach was difficult because it was sharp with memory. Here was the place where their left flank had fallen. Here was the place where he had ordered men to attack the lines that would not fall, the starburst banner that did not falter. Here was the place where he had killed the last of the Prince’s Guard, and come face to face with Auguste. He dismounted from his horse, looping its reins over the cracked stone column of an overgrown pillar. The landscape was old, and the pieces of stone were old; and he remembered this place, remembered the torn soil and the desperation of the fight. Clearing a last jut of stone, he saw the curve of a shoulder in the moonlight, the white of a loose shirt, his outer garments stripped, all wrists and exposed throat. Laurent was sitting on a stone outcrop. His jacket was discarded uncharacteristically. He was sitting on it.

this is a beautifully set scene.

A stone slid under his heel. Laurent turned. For a moment, Laurent looked at him wide-eyed, young, and then the look in his eyes changed, as though the universe had fulfilled an ineluctable promise. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘perfect.’

a moment of surprise and vulnerability, and then practiced cool again. onto Some More Bullshit, i guess

this isn’t the chapter to really tackle this, but i will eventually write a long essay about how laurent goes through his own mini character growth arc, completely off the page, during the lamen divorce era. it’s just that damen has custody of the reader, so we don’t get to see it—only hints, like this moment here. laurent must have had a lot on his mind, too, ever since their last heated conversation. i have some ideas about what that “a lot” might be, but again, i don’t think i’ve gotten quite enough from laurent yet to really start forming a conclusion.

Damen said, ‘I thought you might want—’ ‘Want?’ ‘A friend,’ said Damen. He used Jord’s word. His chest felt tight. ‘If you’d prefer me to leave, I will.’ ‘Why cavil?’ said Laurent. ‘Let’s fuck.’

ON YOUR BROTHER’S FIGURATIVE GRAVE WITH HIS MURDERER????

‘That isn’t what I meant.’ ‘It might not be what you meant, but it’s what you want.’ Laurent said, ‘You want to fuck me.’ Anyone else would have been drunk. Laurent was dangerously sober.

yeah, no, he’s definitely being going through Some Shit on his own. lots of self-loathing, especially due to the fact that he can’t hate damen as much as he knows he should. yearning, more self-loathing because of that yearning. companionship withdrawals, a return to isolation. a revived sense of grief for his brother, and nicaise, and damen (not damianos) and even his relationship with his uncle, who he hadn’t thought would be capable of trying to kill him. hating himself and blaming himself and regretting things he’s done to push people away. just an all-around bad time, but a necessary time of reflection that he needs to experience on his own. damen can’t just swoop in and fix laurent, laurent has to decide that he’s worth saving first. he’s not there yet, clearly, assuming that damen only wants him as a sexual object. whiiiiich was probably why he went so hard on the eroticism with isander easlier, it was an easy victory to get damen hot and bothered. a game he could win, among the many other games he knows he’s losing—especially the ones against himself.

i’ll put together something more coherent before the divorce era ends. tbh, i kinda think this scene should have been a separate chapter, because there is some pretty massive whiplash here. although maybe not, maybe the buildup of emotional and sexual tension was the point. yeah, it was. the slavery stuff just made it more frustrating to read. never mind.

‘You’ve been thinking about it since Ravenel. Since Nesson.’ He knew this mood. He should have expected it. He made himself say the words. ‘I came because I thought you might want to talk.’ ‘Not particularly.’

it almost sounds like laurent played himself, for the millionth time, by getting himself worked up with isander when he just really wanted damen

He said, ‘About your brother.’ ‘I never fucked my brother,’ said Laurent, with a strange edge to the words. ‘That is incest.’ They were standing in the place where his brother had died. With a disorientating sensation Damen realised they weren’t going to talk about that. They were going to talk about this.

"yes, honey..."

‘You’re right,’ said Damen. ‘I’ve been thinking about it since Ravenel. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.’ ‘Why?’ said Laurent. ‘Was I that good?’ ‘No. You fucked like a virgin,’ said Damen,

deserved

‘half the time. The rest of the time—’ ‘Like I knew what to do?’ ‘Like you knew what you were used to.’ He saw the words impact. Laurent swayed, like he’d been dealt a blow. Laurent said, ‘I’m not certain I can take your particular brand of honesty just at the moment.’

oh well this is particularly horrifying with [redacted] context. also i think the quote “i’m not certain i can take your particular brand of honesty just at the moment” says A LOT about how laurent has always viewed damen, for better or for worse. laurent can count on damen to tell him what he needs to hear, not what he wants to hear. so it makes sense that he’s been avoiding damen lately, because laurent is going through his own crisis of personal reflection

Damen said, ‘I don’t prefer sophistication in bed, if you were wondering.’ ‘That’s right,’ said Laurent. ‘You like it simple.’ All the breath left his throat. He stood, stripped, unready for it. Will you use even that against me? he wanted to say, and didn’t. Laurent’s breathing was shallow too, holding his ground.

is “that” just laurent making fun of the way damen is earnest in bed? seems like an overreaction from damen if that's the case, so it’s probably something else i’m missing. maybe laurent is accusing damen of keeping the secret of his identity, even when they fucked, to make things simpler between them? that would support my previous theory that laurent is convinced that damen wouldn’t want him how he really is, as damen really is, with all the complications between them. or it’s a dig about auguste somehow, and i just can’t figure out how it connects.

‘He died well,’ Damen made himself say. ‘He fought better than any man I’ve known. It was a fair fight, and he felt no pain. The end was quick.’

like i said—what laurent needs to hear, not what he wants to hear. even if damen thinks that it’s going to make laurent hate him more, he still has the integrity to say it.

‘You sent your men out to look for me too?’ said Laurent, his mouth twisting. ‘No,’ said Damen, and pushed Laurent hard out of sight, into the shelter of one of the huge, crumbling blocks of stone. In the next second, the troop was on them, at least two hundred men, so that the air was thick with the passage of horses. Damen pressed Laurent firmly into the rock, and held him in place with his body. The riders didn’t slow, even on this uncertain ground in the dark, and any man in their path would be trampled, tumbled, kicked from hoof to hoof. Discovery was a real threat, the rock cool under his palms, the dark shuddering with the pounding of hooves and heavy lethal horseflesh. He could feel Laurent against him, the barely contained tension, adrenalin mixed with his dislike of the proximity, the urge in him to prise himself out and away, stifled by necessity.

throwback <3 i think this is very intentionally placed in this conversation, as a reminder that they are the same people they were in prince’s gambit

‘I know you’re not cold,’ said Damen. ‘You weren’t cold when you ordered me tied to the post. You weren’t cold when you pushed me down on your bed.’

more true things laurent does not want to hear right now! also i like the use of warmth, as the opposite of cold, to signify both vengeful rage and romantic/sexual passion. two sides of the same coin

‘A fair fight?’ said Laurent, turning back to him. ‘No fight’s ever fair. Someone’s always stronger.’

rewinding to their previous argument. aren’t they both tired? i’m tired.

#this might be the most mixed bag chapter for me so far #curious what other people think #might just be personal taste and an unfamiliarity with reading stories about this kink #or even like historical fiction/fantasy in general that might have systems like this one #if i'm reading about stuff like this it's probably something like the handmaid's tale #or a crime/thriller novel #so #shrugs #sam reads capri #capri #captive prince #laurent of vere #damen of akielos #lamen

54 notes · View notes

grison-in-space · 2 years ago

Text

aiiieee my favorite dog breed book ever got delivered today! The Right Dog For You (Daniel Tortora) is well out of date today, having been published in 1980, but there's a lot to commend it in its approach to breaking down dog breeds that I wish we could update for today. Tortora broke down dog temperament into sixteen different scales and dimensions and then surveyed veterinarians, obedience trainers, groomers, and other animal professionals about their estimations about where each breed fell on each point. The book is full of tables like this one:

The attention to detail is just phenomenal. Every one of those scales comes with operational definitions of each and a description of what each level means, like this one for activity level:

Then each breed has a page where the author shows the range along each behavioral scale that most dogs of that breed fall within, along with some short notes. Some of the more popular breeds, like Toy Poodles, even have distinctions like "puppy mill" vs "well bred," with temperament ranges that vary accordingly. Here's the example for the Brittany:

I can transcribe these at request when I have a keyboard but right now I'm just nattering happily during an enjoyable activity, without much expectation that anyone will much care.

Woefully, 1980 is too early to have caught commentaries on cattle dogs--they wouldn't be recognized until 1985, IIRC--and of course the characters of several breeds have changed quite dramatically in the intervening 40 years. I bought the book more as a historical document than a guide, honestly, but I really wish someone would do something similar for the modern day. There are a few purported "honest guides to dog breeds," but nothing I'm aware of even close to this thorough, honest, and carefully cross checked against as wide a sample of people as possible. I've never seen anything else quite like it.

Anyway, I'm gonna have fun with this one. Let me know if anyone has any breeds they'd like me to hunt for as a sort of snapshot of temperament assessment through the 1970s.

#dogs #dogblr #tortora

498 notes · View notes

briskunt · 1 year ago

Text

ike eveland hero/villain voice pack: no-spoilers review

got my hands on this voice pack recently and figured it would be prime content LMAO. i’m going to write down basic observations and hopefully it’ll convince y’all to support our boy 🙏

⚠️ BLIND REACTIONS TO THE VOICE PACKS BELOW! ⚠️

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

hero pack

first off this is one of the longer (if not longest ⁉️) standalone voice pack i have in my collection. hell, it might be twice as long as some other vps i have

ike has a lower voice than usual here. very warm blanket

but also a rougher type of ike, i think. he’s still the sweet guy you expect, but with a little more weight and responsibility, you know? most of the time people default him to “cute ike” so this is a really nice look into “cool ike” as well as cute

CORNY SCHWORNY SOUND EFFECT

speaking of i would be doing the audio boy a disservice if i didn’t mention the audio quality. ike vps have excellent atmospheric sound design and when i compare this one to his past vps, you can tell he had fun picking out sfx and mixing them

i’m impressed how much worldbuilding there is and how naturally it’s been implemented. this is an immersive vp

if you like when ike gets assertive and speaks up you’ll be happy. and if you like when ike gets royal-flash levels of chuuni dork you’ll be happy

CORNY SCHWORNY SOUND EFFECT RETURNS

might be my editor brain being nitpicky but he uses the same phrase to transition twice in a row and it set me off

oh holy shit he calls you that?

oh this voice pack would do numbers with a demographic

easily one of my new favorite vps. i don’t have every ike vp so apologies if this doesn’t apply, but out of my collection this one hits a niche that none of the others do: a cool, nonchalant-badass, resolute typa ike. don’t misunderstand though, he’s still as dorky as ever. honestly i think this is the dorkiest i’ve seen him in a vp

this pack is less fanservice, more story. yep, there are moments that seem romantic, but it’s very easy to imagine the relationship between ike and the listener as something else. it’s versatile and i really enjoy that considering how many voice packs go into the whole heterosexual-romance thing. i wasn’t kidding about the worldbuilding. it’s simple but effective, and illustrates the setting excellently. close your eyes when you listen to this one, it’s a good experience. ike put a lot of detail and effort into the voice performance and sfx, and it shows

if you liked luca’s pampering/scolding voice, you might enjoy this one too. definitely recommending for anyone that loves when ike takes the lead, or anyone that appreciates an ambiguous relationship between liver and listener! honestly, this would be an incredibly safe buy for even folx hesitant on buying voices. ike flexes some aspects of his wide range not just as a voice actor but also as a writer and sound designer. if you’ve heard that quilldren get well-fed from ike voices then they’ll be FEASTING on this one

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

villain

the wallpaper is only included in the villain pack. this art WILL make you sick in the head. i really love the rendering and lighting. you can recognize a lot of elements from his 1.0 outfit like the pattern on the left of his mantle, the pins (?), and his book. i’m glad i’m not tempted to change my wallpaper, because in every wallpaper included in the pack, ike or shoichi’s face would always get cut off by the clock on my iphone’s lock screen. beautiful artwork stunted by how niji awkwardly cuts off wallpapers

okay fuck what i said earlier now THIS is the longest standalone voice pack i own. and it’s not even close. looks like someone outdid himself

again low voice ike tskr tskr whatever. it’s lower than the hero pack. i haven’t compared it to the halloween eki stream, but it’s basically a faster-paced, perkier(?) eki voice

(to be clear it’s not eki. this is villain!ike. i think. will not update if it actually is him, i ain’t spoiling that)

surprisingly domestic here

he says a lot of big words

it’s giving cyrus from pokémon. you understand.

oh my god the backstory

LESGOOOOO THE LAUGH

oh he’s a little fucked up in this one

just a heads up: i’m sure it was plain before but the villain pack has way darker themes than the hero one. do i think it’s intense? not really. but if you have #yandere blocked then you might want to skip this one

once again the relationship is ambiguous here but imo it sounds more romantic than the hero one. this might be an overstatement, but if you can’t handle dubcon in general i’d also skip this. again, nothing explicit happens but if you really can’t stand when the villain has a good guy in their clutches, skip this one

anyways. that rasp is worth the warnings 😳

this is definitely a voice pack for a demographic

and i also understand why my friend popped off in the gc about it LMMAOOOOO

look. it’s a sfw voice pack. but if you’re a kinky son of a bitch you’ll find something to enjoy here. he talks down on you a bit and the subject matter sure is the subject matter.

i think of this as a more intense version of the hero pack. the setting is completely different than what you get in the hero pack and feels a lot more visceral. for example the sound effects are a bit more “realistic”, and the listener is in a dangerous place without any backup. to be clear: the listener is not evil in the villain vp.

i worry that i’m being too heavy-handed about warnings but considering some folx’ boundaries online it bears repeating! if you can’t handle yandere or dubcon, be careful. but if it’s only a mild discomfort to you, it should be fine.

regardless i doubt there will be another one vp like this for a long time. if you soaked up the eki stream like a sponge? GET THIS! if you like ike being mean and deranged get this. if you’re down horrendous sure, get this i guess, and then follow it up with ike’s white day ex if you have it? i feel like that would be a good pairing.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

overall

if you’re into voice packs then i’d say getting one of these is a must-buy. if not for the romance, then for the story and worldbuilding. if. if not the story then because hero!ike is a darling and villain!ike is hot.

even if he’s not your oshi ike’s packs are always a delight! and these are some of the most fun i’ve had with one of his releases. idk what else to say. if you like the guy even a little, it’s worth listening to. he’s definitely in his wheelhouse on both hero and villain. if this is your first ike vp you may be surprised how high the production value is considering it’s all by one guy

get hero if you want a lighthearted conflict, immersion, and a connection to the listener that isn’t necessarily romantic. get villain if you want more drama, more danger, more… uh… i wouldn’t really call it degradation but he has his moments. there isn’t a connected story, so feel free to get both but don’t sweat it if you don’t!

#ike eveland #ike eveland x reader #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #luxiem #luxiem x reader #4402 reviews: voice pack

68 notes · View notes

djuvlipen · 2 years ago

Text

good news for Romani women in the UK!

The network can support Gypsy Roma and Traveller Women to

- Get help registering with a GP

- Get help to arrange a GP appointment

- Access to Midwives

- Advise on getting the right support

"This is a community led group" Dee, told Travellers Times "I think eventually it will be a positive move forward in terms of women’s health - but along the way we will be able to help men’s health and children too. For now, it’s all about building trust and getting those much-needed appointments and conversations going” at our first meeting in October- one woman left saying she “felt heard” after sharing her lived experience. Others had appointments booked for them that were long overdue."

In the UK, Romani women are more vulnerable to stillbirths and miscarriages, have higher maternal death rates during pregnancy and after childbirth, and are 20x more likely to experience the death of their newborn child. Reasons for that are a lack of access to proper maternal care, a lack of awareness and education about maternal care, as well as poverty and poor environmental conditions. As of 2021-2022, the Romani life expectancy in the UK was of 50 years old for both men and women (x), about 30 years shorter than that of the general British population (x).

#roma #uk #great britain #romani reproductive rights #ob/gyn #romani

242 notes · View notes

thebiggerbear · 2 months ago

Note

is there any chance you could do a prequel of "Sleep. I'll keep you safe." [Tom x reader]? just you know, exploring their relationship and reader's past before she came to town (how she escaped, how her husband found her, etc) or how tom and reader met and fell in love (in detail)? like a little slow burn story but without the killing stuff 😭 i would go crazy if you actually did it (ps. i really loveee your writing)

Hi! Awww you're very sweet, thank you so much!!! I actually have something I've been working on for a while since I posted that actually. It was the beginning of what that prompt response was going to be, the background story I guess you could say, that ended up being inspiration for what I ended up coming out with. Though it's slightly different, it's in that same universe kind of? I'm not sure when I'm going to have time to sit down and put the finishing touches on it to finally put it out there but here's an excerpt from one of the chapters:

The doorbell rang halfway through your visit and she appeared a little flustered, as if she forgot she was expecting someone, and happily went to answer the door. You had been making quiet clucking noises at Minnie, Millicent’s cockatoo, through the bars of her cage when you heard the latter making her way back into the room, followed by someone.

“Tom, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot you were dropping by today.”

You heard a warm chuckle followed by “That’s alright.”

You turned in time to see Millicent step across the threshold followed by a man dressed in jeans, work boots, a hoodie, and a baseball cap. He was a very attractive man, his cheeks filled with days-old stubble, green eyes that were bright and inviting, white teeth against a smile that was warm and even more inviting. Had you been someone else, you might have thought you just hit the jackpot if he turned out to be single, but you weren’t someone else, and instead you tensed, trying to make yourself as small as possible while you forced a pleasant smile onto your face.

“Oh, let me just grab that check from the counter.” Millicent made her way over to the section of kitchen counter where she kept a pile of papers.

“It’s alright, Millie, take your time,” the man assured. His eyes landed squarely on you, his smile growing wide. “Who’s this?”

You tensed even more and you could feel the muscles in your face tighten as you kept the smile plastered there.

“Oh,” Millicent huffed, coming back over with an envelope in her hand. “Where are my manners? Y/N, this is Tom Anderson. He’s a handyman of sorts around these parts. Tom, this is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s my new neighbor, just moved next door into the old Saliman house.” You tensed at her giving away your name and new address just like that to some stranger. He might not be a stranger to her, but you had no idea who this guy was, no matter how friendly he might seem. It had been your experience that you certainly could never judge a book by its nice cover; there could be horror stories galore underneath it.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Tom stuck out his hand. You hesitated for a moment before shaking it, something that didn’t go unnoticed by either person but thankfully wasn’t commented on. His hand felt warm and…nice, but you’d felt warm and nice hands before that later turned into burning, hard, and punishing hands.

You pulled yours back to your tea cup, fighting the urge to wipe it against the leg of your pants. “Nice to meet you, too.” You kept your tone softer and quieter than it would have been if it was just you and Millicent.

“Are you ladies having a tea party or something?” His eyes bore into you and though they were open and appeared warm, almost showcasing a glimmer of laughter at his gentle teasing, he was obviously laser-focused on you. Your nerves were skyrocketing and you quickly set your cup down on the table and took your seat.

The older woman picked up on your discomfort and offered Tom the envelope she had been holding. “Oh, hush, Tom. You know us old ladies like our tea in the afternoons and Y/N was nice enough to indulge me.”

Tom chuckled again and accepted that envelope. “That is really nice of her.” He shot you a wink and you immediately dropped your gaze to the tea setting. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Tom turn a confused expression onto Millicent who shook her head.

“Well, that should be all of it, Tom. Thank you for helping me with the leak downstairs. I swear these old rusty pipes are just going to finally give one day and flood me out.”

“Nah,” Tom assured. “As long as we prep them before winter hits, I think you’ll be fine. They just need a little love and attention, that’s all. You do that and they’ll be just fine.”

Your eyes snapped up to find him staring back at you, the warm smile back on his face from earlier.

“It was nice to meet you. If you ever need help fixing up that old house next door, Millie here has my cell number. You can call anytime.”

You gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Thank you. It was nice meeting you.” You absolutely did not intend to take him up on his offer but you forced yourself to sit there and remain polite rather than run from the room like you wanted to, for Millicent’s sake if nothing else.

He gave you a nod, that bright smile not dampened any at your polite dismissal of him, and he turned to your neighbor. “Thanks again, Millie. If you need me to clean out that fireplace, give me a call.”

“Oh, you know I’ll be calling you soon. Say hi to Sally for me.”

“Will do,” he laughed. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon tea, ladies.” Flashing a quick smile in both your directions, he finally turned and left. You only started to relax when you heard the front door close.

Millicent was studying you but she kept her observations to herself and simply took her seat, picking up the tea pot and leaning towards you. “More tea?”

You gave her a genuine smile of thanks and held your cup up.

What do you think? Is it worth pursuing and finishing up to post? Let me know. 😊

And thank you very much for your kind words!!! 💖💖

(dividers by @firefly-graphics)

#asks #tom hanniger x reader #fic requests

11 notes · View notes

fateandloveentwined · 1 year ago

Text

number of unique chinese characters in a book

So there's this blog I read long ago on the number of unique chinese characters one uses. Say a person writes a 10k chinese novel. But how many characters are discrete?

Classical chinese poems and songs have me doubting my chinese ability as always, and that got me curious about how many chinese characters I know or write on a daily basis.

To answer this (and to very much knock my confidence like an idiot) I put together something to count the number of unique chinese characters in a passage. I use about... 2.8k characters in my general writing.

Then I wondered about the authors I read.

A quick search online suggests that a chinese user knows and uses 1000-3000 characters regularly, and after high school you are supposed to have taken in over 6000 characters -- something I'm pretty sure I didn't do.

That said, I got curious about the number of unique characters these authors I read usually use. That doesn't at all indicate writing competency, but well, it felt interesting regardless so I decided to go play with that a bit.

For reference, jinyong's wuxia novels are around 3.5k to 4.5k unique characters per novel.

you only need 2.5-3k characters to use chinese like natives do, it's not too much really!

methodology rambles feel free to skip to next heading

I recorded some numbers and figures for something to work with with works I enjoyed. Fanfics I also included, which I saved on my computer a long time ago.

I made attempts to analyse the data in a fairer way, looking at the total word count and the highest frequency of "的"s (a very common chinese particle, think the letter "e") used in the passage. That sort of helped, but at the same time there are always outliers that manage to muddle up understanding every single time.

So now, observations. I categorised them into four levels according to the number of unique characters, from lowest to highest.

observations

note: notable novels are highlighted in yellow for easy spotting, and fanfictions are shaded in grey. I added english titles for most of them because I didn't put them in when I first did the screencaptures.

first level: below 3.5k unique characters

Good authors don't always equate an extensive character set. Conversely, there are authors who basically cannot write well (subjective) and still end up with a surprisingly not-low unique character count.

Works like 靜影沉璧、瀟湘水冷、風骨同守 that adopted a more literary, classical chinese writing register had lower unique character counts than the others. This was not what I expected, considering these works were where I found most words I'm unfamiliar with and ended up questioning my chinese reading ability (sorry lol).

I was also surprised with 潭石、水千丞、覆水難收、木蘇里 (mu su li) because their writing are all pretty good, all achieved while using a much smaller lexicon range than what I've expected.

(不問三九 with good writing was also low and in this range, but I forgot to mark hers down so, shrugs.)

second: 3.6k to 4.5k characters

That said, some authors do typically reach a range of around 3.6-3.7k unique characters, which is a pretty wide character set. Supposing adding a book of an author increases the total number of unique characters the author has used, these authors tend to round up at around 4k+ words with 2-4 novels inputted.

With each book added, there would be an increase of a few hundred unique characters, but they tend to level off at about 4.3k etc., and that is likely their maximum unique character count.

Some do level off at around 3.7k though, which indicates a narrower range of lexicon employed.

third level: the weird level

weird because the unique character count increases by leaps and bounds with every new novel of theirs that I added, and we end up perplexed and baffled.

At around 1M to 1.5M words inputted from an author, I thought that the unique character count would be pretty steady already, similar to how the unique character counts for authors at the second level levelled off eventually.

That's not the case for these two authors here. It is perplexing because the settings of their books do not vary greatly, yet the choice of characters and words were, apparently, diverse enough to give a "forever"-going increase in unique character count with every book I added.

This category aggravates me so much I couldn't make head and tail of it honestly lol.

the final level: the eloquent and literate

Of course, in this world there are always very literate individuals, and verbose they may seem, some are good writers. Here are the authors who actually have a vast unique character range.

You may be wondering how this 3.7k differs from the ones in the second level, but bear in mind this is merely the result from a single work of the author, or that the author's book is, like, half the length of the other authors while achieving a far higher unique character count than others.

And there's meatbun at the top of the list; I used both 2ha and Yu Wu for her stats, but her 2ha alone was already higher than Royal Nirvana and any other book I tested, so she goes in this category.

And et voila. All of this may not make sense to you, I'm not even sure about how the reception of this would be, it was a passion project and an interesting evening that I had, and now that I have some (sort of subjective) results I hope to share it out. :)

feel free to hmu for peculiar thought experiments and discussions on this topic!!

this is a repost from another site. i have used too many a username, and am not ready to link together all of them yet (someday) -- if you recognise this and wonder, message me, that's probably another account of mine.

#danmei #chinese language #mxtx #2ha #language #linguistics #meatbun doesn't eat meat #meatbun #chinese #cnovel #fate's wonky thoughts #fate creates

84 notes · View notes

guinevere-of-smiths · 3 months ago

Text

TUH: Home Front

Book: The Unexpected Heiress

Words: ~6000

Rating: M

Pairing: John Somerset x f!MC (Celeste Hayes)

Warnings: Discussion of War (World War I), discussion (but no depiction) of air raids

Summary: Spring 1916, London. World War 1 has been raging for more than 18 months and Lieutenant John Somserset returns to London on home leave, never expecting to hear that his wife Celeste is not only in London, but that for all the propaganda of 'fighting to keep England safe' to make men enlist, the home front is far from untouchable.

John was too tired to even feel the trepidation he usually returned to England with these days. It was difficult to dissect how unreal his homeland’s normalcy felt compared to the blighted landscape he had left behind while all he longed for was a warm bed.

Yawning, he trudged up the steps of the terrace house Francis had moved into while their family’s townhouse did its bit for King and Country and rung the bell. A few minutes later, the door was opened by an elderly lady in a dark dress. “Yes?” She stared at him for a moment, taking in his mud-spattered uniform, then blinked. “Oh, Lieutenant Somerset, it’s you.”

She immediately opened the door wide enough for John to slip inside. He nodded at her. “Good afternoon. Mrs. Gilbert, if I recall?”

“Are you here to visit your brother?” She eyed him critically, and there was no doubt in John’s mind that she was seeing every clump of mud clinging to him, from his shoes up to his greatcoat, and calculating how many of them he was likely to leave behind in her hallway. He had hardly slept during the train ride to the coast or the Channel crossing, never mind sparing the time to shave or wash himself; dirty clothing had been the least of his worries.

He nodded again. “Is he in?”

“I’m sorry, I suspect he’s still at the Office. But I can go upstairs to have a look.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll wait for him. Would I inconvenience you greatly if I asked for a cup of tea in the meantime?”

She assured him that no, of course it wasn’t an inconvenience, but she insisted on first ascertaining that his brother truly wasn’t home. John did his best not to fall asleep standing up while waiting at the foot of the stairs. At least he didn’t have to wait long, but was soon ushered into the sitting room, where he first let her take his coat and then gratefully sank down onto one of the couches. It would probably be best to spend the night at Francis’ and return to Windcroft the following morning. As much as he longed for home, for Celeste and their little girl, he didn’t think he would be able to motivate his leaden bones to move into an upright position again anytime soon.

Only the blink of an eye seemed to have passed when Mrs. Gilbert returned with a tray, laden with a tea pot, crockery, as well as some small jugs and tins. She glanced up while she poured his tea. “Are you here on leave, sir?”

“Yes. I plan to travel on tomorrow.”

“You will want to see the rest of your family, I’m sure. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“I would like to rest until my brother returns. I’d be thankful if you could be patient about coming to collect this.” He indicated the tray.

She only hesitated for a moment. “Of course, sir.”

Soon after that, she left, allowing John to finally close his eyes and lean back. If he was lucky, she would actually stay away until he rang for her or Francis returned, and he’d be able to sleep for an hour or two. He took a deep breath, listening to the sounds around him; besides the ticking of a clock, distant street noise and a creaking wood floor, the flat was absolutely quiet. Eerily quiet, after the booming of the artillery, the squealing train and the crowded streets. His every nerve was waiting for the whistling of a grenade or the crack of a gun, any sign to take cover, but of course, there was no such sound. He was in England. He was home. Everything was fine. And yet, nothing was fine.

He almost believed he could hear all of it, the whistling, the thundering, the sharp sounds of a gun, but he knew those had to be hallucinations. He was so sleep-deprived that it wouldn’t surprise him. Rubbing his face with both hands, he forced himself into some semblance of an upright position to drink his tea before it got cold.

The pleasant warmth spreading through his chest while he drank, combined with the tea’s bitter tang, served to wake him enough to wash and change out of the dirtiest of his clothes before curling up on the sofa. He was half asleep before his head hit the pillow.

„John?“

Someone put a hand on his shoulder. Within a moment, before he even realized that the someone had also used his first name – and that the voice was suspiciously familiar – he was sitting upright and looking around until he spotted Francis, who had taken a step back, his hands raised. “Beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He blinked, trying to orientate himself. There was still light coming in from outside, but if had become dimmer than before. Already late afternoon, then, if not evening. “It’s alright”, he muttered and cleared his throat when he realized that his voice sounded like a grinding stone. “Hello, Francis.”

His brother had obviously just come in; he was still wearing his overcoat and hat and was looking at him with an expression that said that the few hours of sleep had only improved on his appearance to a point. “Mrs. Gilbert would have prepared the guest room for you if you had said anything.”

“To be honest, that was simply too much effort to my liking.” He rubbed his face and looked around for a clock. “What time is it?”

“Almost half past five.” Francis took off first his hat and then his coat and hung both neatly on the hall stand. “When did you get here?”

“Three, four hours ago? I don’t remember exactly.” Little by little, he was at least starting to feel decently awake. “I’m sorry, I would have sent a message ahead, but I was given very short notice for my leave.”

“How long do you have?”

“Two weeks. I was intending to travel on tomorrow, but I thought I’d call on you on the way.”

“And I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you were looking for a place to sleep and that my flat lent itself”, Francis responded drily, but there was no censure in his words. Quite the opposite, his brother even allowed himself a tired smile. “It’s good to see you again, John.”

Alive and on this side of the Channel, you mean. “I hope I haven’t interrupted any plans for your evening.”

Francis shook his head and sat down in one of the armchairs. It was only now that John noticed the briefcase standing next to it, or the tired expression of Francis’ eyes. Apparently he wasn’t the only one that was exhausted. “Nothing that can’t be postponed. Have you come directly from the front?”

No, from a vacation at the beach. “From where else? I didn’t want to waste time lingering anywhere. The sooner I’m home, the better.” No matter what he did, the time he had with his wife and daughter wouldn’t be enough. He wasn’t sure Terry would even recognize him, even if Celeste was as diligent in telling their girl stories as she claimed in her letters. He hadn’t seen her since last autumn. Half a year was a long time for a child not even two years old.

He pulled himself together when he noticed Francis staring at him with his brow furrowed, as if he could guess what was going on inside him, and cleared his throat, this time to break the uncomfortable silence. “How are things in the War Office?”

“Chaotic, like always.” Before Francis could say more, the door opened, and Mrs. Gilbert bustled in with a second tea tray. Francis continued speaking while she put the first one aside and poured fresh tea from the new one. “Are you staying for dinner, John?”

“I had hoped I’d be able to stay until tomorrow. Is that inconvenient?” In the past, staying the night in Francis’ flat had never been a problem. As much as John longed for his family, it wasn’t as if seeing his brother after months at the front didn’t do him good. Francis and he might have their problems with each other, but the evenings he spent here tended to be very quiet.

His brother gave him a confused look. “No, but I would have thought you…” He paused. “When did you last get a letter from Celeste?”

The question caught John so much by surprise that he tensed instantly. Everything but bad news. “A few days ago, maybe a week”, he replied and couldn’t help sounding suspicious. “I didn’t tell her that I’d come here, if that is what you mean.”

“I mean that you probably can’t know that she’s here in London, then.”

“Pardon?”

“Your wife is here in London”, Francis repeated. “She has been for about a week now. I have been wondering why you’re here and not with her, to be honest, but I suppose that explains it.”

“Celeste is in London?”

His flummoxed tone teased a smile out of Francis. Or possibly it was the unnecessary repetition, but apparently his tired mind wasn’t quick enough to process the news that he could have seen his Celeste hours ago. “She is”, Francis confirmed, unnecessarily. “She has been staying with Aunt Maude for a few days to attend a number of charity events.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” The words came out more accusatory than he had intended them, but before he could say anything more, Francis was already frowning.

“You mean since I’ve learned five minutes ago that you’re even in the country?”

John forced a smile. “I’d have thought that your all-important work at the War Office has been teaching you quick reflexes.”

“I fear you’re confusing something”, Francis said drily. “Be that as it may, I can understand that you’d prefer Celeste’s company to mine.”

John supressed a smile, an honest one this time. “It’s nothing personal.”

“That’s what I thought.”

It felt bizarre, almost surreal, to be sitting in a warm sitting room with his brother after months at the front, with an old landlady serving them tea and without the consistent rumbling of the artillery. There was nothing but quiet street noise. He wondered how his platoon was faring in this moment. He could only hope that the front was calm and that he wouldn’t return to find his men half decimated – or worse.

He pushed the thought aside. He himself was safe, and he should savour that, no matter how guilty he felt in doing so. “I hope you won’t think me rude if I go over to Aunt Maude’s as soon as possible, given the circumstances.”

“Before you leave, there’s something you should know about.”

John had already risen to gather up his necktie and his tunic, which he had draped over the armrest of the other armchair. Francis’ sober tone of voice made him freeze and his hackles rise.

“Yes?”

Francis sighed and rubbed his hands. “Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Gilbert. I think you may go.”

Not before the eyes of the servants, then. Nothing was secret at the front, so John should have been glad of the privacy, but in that moment, the gesture only served to worsen his anxiety. In their circles, people seldom paid attention whether servants were present or not; they were too omnipresent in their lives for it to be worth the effort. And still, Francis waited until Mrs. Gilbert had left the room before he spoke. That couldn’t bode well.

His brother took a deep breath before he spoke. “Firstly, I want you to stay calm throughout all that I’m about to tell you. Everything is fine.”

“Did something happen?”

“You could say that. Did you pay attention to the newspapers on the way here?”

He shook his head and sat back down on the sofa.

“As I said, everything is fine, I don’t want you to be upset, but…There was a bombing attack by the Germans on Aunt Maude’s neighbourhood last night.”

This news, his tired brain didn’t struggle to parse. Probably a side effect of the adrenaline that had flooded his veins further with every second Francis had dallied in getting to the point. “Celeste?”, was all he could get out.

“She is unharmed, as is Aunt Maude. Their house wasn’t hit.”

“Oh, thank God.” He was almost faint with relief; he buried his face in his hands, his elbows on his knees, and took several deep breaths. In that moment, he didn’t even care that his brother was sitting in front of him or that there was that voice in the back of his mind, useless as it was, telling him that an officer wasn’t supposed to be this obvious in losing his nerves. He had seen enough destruction to know the harm German bombs could do. He didn’t want to imagine Celeste, his Celeste, even close to that. She was in England, far away from the battlegrounds on the continent. She was supposed to be safe.

It was his own fault, really, that he had still carried hope like that, after Europe had already gone mad years ago.

He allowed himself two deep breaths before looking up at Francis, who, to his credit, was diligently acting as if preparing his tea was the most intriguing task in the world, all to give him time to collect himself. “Was anyone injured? Killed?”

„At least two dead and several wounded”, Francis said soberly. “I don’t know the exact numbers. I only learned of it when a colleague told me. I called Aunt Maude’s telephone post-haste. Celeste is understandably shaken, but they were far enough away from the impact site that aside from the noise and the tremor, they didn’t notice anything at first.”

“You spoke to her?”

“Yes, but only for a few minutes. Apparently, the house of an acquaintance of her aunt’s was hit. Maude’s acquaintance and the others in the house were out that evening, but she and Celeste have spent the day helping them bring their affairs in order.”

His amusement wasn’t enough to make him laugh or even smile, but immediately throwing herself into helping others sounded so much like his wife that it made him feel a smidgeon better. Or maybe the wish to laugh in a situation like this was a sign of hysteria. It discomforted him how little able he felt to tell the difference.

To keep his fingers occupied, he began re-tying his tie, as he had intended before. “Thank you for checking on her.”

Francis lifted a brow. “Of course I did. You’re not the only one in this family she means something to, John.”

“Certainly, but…” He didn’t know what else to say. “Either way, I’ll go to her at once.”

He was done with his tie now and pulled on his tunic. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Francis that Celeste was alright, but he still wanted to see her for himself. His wife was resilient, but he could picture only too well how much living through something like this had to have shaken her. It was frightening, knowing you were alive due to nothing but luck. The knowledge that her beloved aunt could have been a victim had to weigh on her, as well, and…”

Although he had been in the process of getting up, he sank down on the sofa again. Francis gave him a worried look. “John?”

“Do you know if she’s taken Theresa to London with her?”

He saw the moment Francis realized the extent of the horror that had gripped him so suddenly. Facing how close his wife’s brush with death had been was cruel enough, but his daughter? He forced himself to stay calm, while his brother frowned and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t asked. I’d assume she didn’t, but I can’t tell you with certainty.”

“It didn’t cross your might to maybe ask if your niece is alright?”, he asked incredulously, knowing he was being unfair without caring about that fact overmuch.

“It was only a short phone call”, Francis defended himself. “I’m sure your wife would have mentioned Terry had she been there.”

“Perhaps”, John muttered and attempted to rise, but paused when Francis sighed.

“At least drink a cup of tea, John, and try to calm yourself. If you rush into that house like a man chased, that won’t make the situation any better, after what Celeste and Aunt Maude have already been through.”

He gave his brother a sourly look that he hoped made sufficiently plain what he thought about that idea. “That I’m – justifiably, I’d say – concerned for my dearly beloved wife doesn’t mean I don’t know how to behave myself, Francis.”

“I’d still suggest that it’s advisable to call ahead and give notice of your coming. And in the meantime, I’m sure we can find some refreshments in addition to the tea. I assume you didn’t eat anything all day?”

Death was Celeste’s constant companion.

The sentiment was quite possibly – if not certainly – overly dramatic, but sometimes, her life felt exactly like that. Her mother had died when she had still been a little girl; her sister had been murdered; her husband had nearly died before he had been able to become exactly that. She would never forget Lady Hunsbury’s hateful gaze when she had pointed that gun at herself and Effie, ready to pull the trigger, and not even a year after her wedding a war had broken out. There was hardly a day now that she didn’t go to bed wondering if she would wake a widow. Her brother-in-law had lost a sister, her husband his mother.

All that considered, the fact that only a few streets had separated herself and her aunt from becoming casualties of war shouldn’t surprise her, really. And yet, all day she had found herself thinking about how easily she could have died, especially when there had been nothing left to do to keep busy. What would become of her daughter if she wasn’t here to take care of her anymore? Who would write to John? Sie didn’t want to think about it.

And then Aunt Maude had informed her that Francis had called ahead to tell them that he would pay them a visit – and, more importantly, that John would be with him. At first, she had been sure that her aunt had to be joking, but Maude Leighton, for all her joie de vivre, wasn’t that cruel.

So she was once again standing before the floor-length mirror in the hall in an effort to neaten her hair and to check the fit of her blouse and skirt. Aunt Maude strolled over, shaking her head.

“My sweet cherub, you look lovely. Not that I think that that is what your John will care about.”

“It’s a better alternative than pacing, aunty. This way, at least I won’t be drenched in sweat.” She wondered if there was enough time to run upstairs and change her clothing. Her dark skirt didn’t show the dust and dirt the debris she had sorted through had left, but the sleeves of her cream-coloured blouse told a different story. Wouldn’t it be better to put on a jacket?

Her aunt snorted, amused. “Ah, young love. One could think you were seeing each other for the very first time, what with how nervous you are.”

No, but for the first time in half a year. Intellectually, Celeste knew that John wouldn’t give a damn how she looked – she didn’t care either, after all. But she had to do something to keep herself from perching by the window and keeping watch for him. She had her pride, after all.

But by God, she missed John so much. She wanted to run towards him, but that would be both useless and embarrassingly close to the stereotype of the yearning wife. Which didn’t change the fact that now that she knew that her husband was in London and on his way to her, it was hard to keep still.

“Celeste?”

“Hm?” She turned towards her aunt, who was looking at her expectingly. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Her aunt gave her a slight smile. “I suggested going into the drawing room to wait there. I know you won’t be able to concentrate on that novel you’ve been reading, but you could help me make sure that I haven’t forgotten anything I need to take care of before my departure.”

“Certainly, Aunt Maude.” Celeste straightened her skirt one more time before following her aunt – not without another look at the door, whose bell remained silent despite her gaze. It was far too early for John and Francis to be here already, but she couldn’t help herself.

Her aunt had settled into one of the room’s armchairs when she came in, her list and pencil in her hand. Celeste sat down on the couch across from her, the C.L. Pirkis novel she had been reading before Francis’ call on the coffee table between them.

Aunt Maude tapped her pencil on the upper edge of the book she was using as a writing support. “Do you know, it’s dreadfully kind of your parents-in-law to take me in after this shock”, she said thoughtfully. “But I don’t think I’ll be taking advantage of their hospitality for more than a few weeks.”

Torn from her thoughts, it took Celeste a moment to digest the meaning of her words. “Are you sure? After what happened…” She shuddered. Seeing her aunt’s friends’ ruined house had really made her realize how real the war’s dangers were, even in London. She didn’t want anything so much as to be back in the countryside with her daughter, far removed from anything that could interest the Germans as a target.

Aunt Maude shrugged, still smiling. “The safe, conventional option was never my choice.”

“Aunty…”

“I feel like I can be of greater use here. Soldiers like your John put themselves in far greater danger every day. Which doesn’t mean that I don’t understand that you would rather be with Terry.”

“There are a lot of ways to help out in the country, too”, Celeste argued. What did her aunt think she was doing most days? “We have enough veterans, injured soldiers and widows and orphans in need of help around Windcroft.”

As always, Aunt Maude didn’t allow anything to dampen her mood. “Let us discuss this another time, sweet cherub. For now, I’m coming with you, and we’ll see how quickly I’ll get bored after that.”

Celeste couldn’t help but grin. She never could when she sensed a challenge. There was little she enjoyed more. “You’ll see. Give me two weeks and you won’t want to leave.”

Her aunt laughed quietly. “I’m on tenterhooks. So-”

They were interrupted by the sound of a stopping automobile. Without thinking, Celeste jumped to her feet, ran over to the window and pushed the drapes aside – her hope to see John again was too violent to allow another reaction. It only made her disappointment greater when she looked outside. “Only the neighbours”, she announced, dropping the drapes.

“It won’t be long now until you’ve got him back.”

Yes, for nothing but a few days. She shook of the ungrateful thought. A few days every few months were more than many other wives got, even those whose husbands were still alive. John was an officer, after all. A few days he was with her, safe, would be heavenly. She forced herself to smile.

“You’re right, of course. So, we were planning to go over your list of preparations?”

After she stopped looking at the clock every few seconds and started focusing on her discussion with her aunt, they made quite decent progress. Aunt Maude might try to make her believe differently, but she, too, was shaken by the night’s events and had readily accepted Lady Ashbourne’s invitation to stay at Windcroft Manor for the foreseeable future. She would stay in London for a few days to help her friends and get her affairs in order, but after that, she would travel out to Gloucestershire to stay with them. Celeste, for her part, was planning to return to Windcroft the next day; she had been away from her little girl for far too long. She hoped that John felt the same, because she would certainly not be leaving without him.

She looked up when a car stopped in front of the house, but forced herself to stay seated this time, fingers buried in the fabric of her skirt. She held her breath, looked towards the door and couldn’t rise fast enough when the bell rang. She reached the entrance hall only a moment after Aunt Maude’s chauffeur-butler, hovering in the doorway while he opened the front door.

Knowing that her husband was in London after only exchanging letters with him one or two times per week was one thing. Seeing him walk in the door, in a dirty coat and lean, but gloriously alive left her unsure how to feel for a moment. He only had to look around a moment to spot her, and she knew that the only thing brighter than his smile was probably her own.

She only absently noticed Francis following his brother into the house; she was far too preoccupied by John walking towards her with long strides. It was hardly a moment before she found herself wrapped in a tight embrace, as if he never wanted to let her go again. She had no complaints about that. She shoved her hands under his trench coat and hugged him as tightly as she could. All her tension of the last few hours, if not months, fell away under his warm, familiar presence.

It wasn’t the first time she saw John again when he came home, injured or on leave. That didn’t dim the breathless relief to have him back in her arms in the slightest. It never would, probably.

He pressed his face into her neck for a few seconds before lifting his head without letting her go. “I heard you’ve managed to get yourself into trouble again?”

This was so unexpected that she had to laugh. “You know me. I wither when I don’t have enough excitement in my life.”

This time, he did step away from her, just enough to reach up and push a lock of hair back from her forehead. It must have come loose while she had pushed her face into the rough fabric of his uniform. “And I see that your sense of dramatic timing hasn’t diminished. You shouldn’t have done this just for me.”

She smiled. “You have far too exalted an opinion of yourself, Lieutenant.”

“My superiors would say the same thing.” He stroked her jaw, studying her face attentively. “But to be serious: are you alright?”

“As alright as I can be, given the circumstances.” She took a deep breath and looked up into his face. He looked tired, but alright, for a man that had spent the winter at the front. “I won’t pretend it hasn’t shaken me, but it could have been much worse.”

“Still, for my peace of mind, I’d ask you to desist from such things in the future. It’s enough that one of us has to dodge artillery.”

She raised a brow, smiling. “I’ll leave it to you to tell the Germans, the next time you meet one of them.” Slowly, she realized that she and John weren’t alone in the foyer and that Francis and her aunt had probably spent a good while pretending not to see them. With an embarrassed cough, she rose to her toes to kiss his cheek before carefully disentangling herself from him. “And I want to hear all about how you are in a moment, but first…Hello, Francis.”

Her brother-in-law had indeed been studying a painting but couldn’t help but chuckle now. “Hello, Celeste.”

“I’d apologize for that passionate reunion”, John said, “but I’d have to be sorry to do that.” One of his arms was still slung loosely around her waist, and he pulled her close to him for one last moment before letting go for good. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Then you should see how much my dear niece has been fretting”, Aunt Maude announced pleasantly, sauntering into the foyer. “She almost left a trail in my floor, that’s how upset the poor girl has been.”

“Aunt Maude!” Her cheeks were glowing with heat, but her aunt merely laughed.

“I’m just kidding, little cherub. I’m happy to see your husband, too.”

“Thank you for taking me in so spontaneously, Maude.” Now that the first relief of seeing each other safe and sound had passed, John appeared far more composed, even while keeping close to her side. He handed his coat over to Ingram, her aunt’s butler. “Especially given the circumstances.”

“Nonsense”, she said firmly and enveloped the hand her had offered her to shake with both of hers. “You know you’re always welcome. All the more because it’s advantageous for my niece’s peace of mind.” She laughed. “And it isn’t as if I need to have an additional room prepared!”

Francis, who had taken off his coat and hat as well, cleared his throat. “It’s good to see that last night’s events haven’t affected you too badly.”

“One has to take life as it presents itself”, Aunt Maude responded with a shrug. “It was frightening, I’ll admit that much, but what would I gain from sinking into despair now? But now, come along into the drawing room. We’ll be far more comfortable waiting there for dinner.”

Glad as she was to have John with her again, Celeste didn’t want to take her eyes off him, and much less move away from this spot. One heard so many terrible things about the war that it was a mystery to her how anyone could return from the front in one piece – especially her own husband. Thankfully, he didn’t seem inclined to follow the others into the drawing room, either. Quite the opposite: he took her hand in his to keep her from moving.

“Would you excuse us for a few moments?”, he asked, addressing Francis and Aunt Maude. “I’d like to talk to my wife in private.”

The expressions their relatives regarded them with after that couldn’t have been more different; while Francis studied his brother with knitted brows (which only garnered him an expressionless look) Aunt Maude only smiled.

“But certainly”, she cooed. “I’m sure that you have a lot to discuss.” With a wink, she ushered Francis into the drawing room. He, for his part, gave his brother another look over his shoulder, but sighed and followed his hostess.

Although they were left alone in the foyer, John led her a few steps away from the door into an alcove between wall and stairs, where they were better hidden from curious stares. Neither of them said anything, but John let go of her fingers to instead cup her face in his hands, stroking her cheekbones before leaning in to kiss her; softly, tenderly, sweetly, more a caress than the passion of a lover that hadn’t seen her for months. And yet it was everything she wished for in that moment; she closed her eyes, hands flat on his chest, and allowed herself to enjoy the warmth flooding her body. Even after he pulled back to learn his forehead against hers, they stayed standing like that for a moment, breathless.

“I missed you”, John said quietly.

“I missed you too.” She opened her eyes and looked up into his dark brown ones. “How long can you stay?”

“Twelve days, then I’ll have to head back.” He kissed her again. “I was planning to go to Windcroft tomorrow. To you.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “I’m happy to have taken that step for you.”

“I’m not sure how happy I am about it.” He met her eyes briefly before looking away again. “I saw what’s left of the houses that were hit on our way over. When Francis told me what happened…or almost happened…I don’t want to imagine.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing worse than what you live through every day.” Her voice was quiet, but she wasn’t sure if she had been able to keep all her grief out of it.

“That may be true, but it’s still not a pleasant feeling to come home and find out that my wife has been through something like this only the night before.” He took a deep breath. “But the important thing is that you are alright.”

“I am. I swear it.” She regarded his tired, a little stubbly face – apparently, he hadn’t had the time or the will to shave on his way home. News of her adventures of the previous night probably hadn’t done anything to improve that – her heart bled imagining how anxious he had to have been on the drive over. “How are you?”, she asked, straightening his tie, which was slightly crooked. “We have only talked about me so far.”

“I’m looking forward to a night’s rest in a proper bed”, he told her honestly. “But other than that, I can’t complain about anything right in this moment.”

That wasn’t what she had meant, but she let the issue rest. John didn’t owe her any more honesty. She knew very well herself that no matter how much good will she invested, she would never be able to truly understand what he lived through at the front, and it would be cruel beyond measure to force him to try make her understand anyway. So she only gave him a short kiss of her own and took his hand.

“Then it’s just as well that we can go to bed right after dinner. And tomorrow, we’ll go to Windcroft, where no one will throw bombs at either of us.”

“Wait.” He held her hand tightly, but didn’t move an inch when she, assuming he had really only wished for a private moment for a few kisses, tried to move towards the drawing room. “I have one more question.”

“Yes?” Her anxiety, just soothed, stirred again when she saw how serious he looked and how much he struggled to clothe his question into words.

“Theresa”, he managed to say, finally. “Is she here?”

“Terry? She’s at the Manor, with your parents. I didn’t intend to leave her behind for so long, but initially, my stay here was only meant to be for two days, and…John? What is it?”

At her words – her first words in this torrent of speech – he had closed his eyes and sagged against the wall with his back. “Oh, thank God”, he murmured. “I feared the worst.”

“You thought…Oh, John. She would have been just as safe as me.” She tried to sound optimistic as she said it, but hadn’t she herself said a silent prayer of thanks that her daughter was far away and safe this morning?

John forced a smile. “Of course. You’re right.” But she hadn’t imagined his relief. It was probably similar to what she felt when she saw him again during one of his leaves from the front. Somehow, she had learned to live with knowing that she could lose her husband forever any moment – there were too many war widows to not look that reality in the eye. But she couldn’t imagine going on without him and without Terry. She didn’t think she’d survive a loss like that. Not after everything she had already been through.

“I’m sure she’ll be overjoyed to see you again.”

“If she even recognizes me.”

“She will. And even if she doesn’t, she knows who you are. I tell her about you often enough.” Truthfully, Celeste wasn’t so certain herself. Her daughter was barely more than a year old, and the last time she had seen John had been late summer. For a child that small, a few months were a long time.

“Then I’m relying on your judgement.” He kissed her forehead one last time. “And now, we shouldn’t let the others wait any longer. Elsewise, we’re giving your aunt too much time to speculate.”

#the unexpected heiress #playchoices #john somerset #john somerset x mc #francis somerset #tuh mc #maud leighton #celeste hayes #playchoices fanfic #john somerset x celeste hayes #my fanfic

8 notes · View notes

katerinaaqu · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! I want to try reading the Iliad and the Odyssey but English isn't my first language and reading Homer's poetic structures confuse me a lot. Do you know any iliad and Odyssey books that're more beginner friendly but stil close to the original? Like an abridged version?

Oh that is a good question and I understand the struggle. English is not my language either so although Butler's translation is one of the best I have seen if not THE best in English I can understand his english might be a bit difficult to understand for people who have English as second or third language.

Well I am not sure which is your mother tongue since I am almost entirely sure you can find something translated in that given how wide range of translations exists for both poems but if you look for english tralsations here are some that come to the top of my head:

Fagles translation is better than Butler for beginners for he is more poetic to his language and not so stiff but I guess it is also not entirely beginner-friendly. Lattimore is said also to be good but the wording maybe is confusing given how old the translation is and how he wanted toconvey the greek speech I should say one that comes to the top of my head is Rieu's translation that is more contemporary unless I am terribly mistaken.

People praise Willson a lot these years. Honestly I am not a fan given how she changes many words in her translation to fit some form of metric system plus the contemporary grammar and some of her personal beliefs. I wouldn't recommend her for accuracy for I found many times words that translated out of nowhere in her texts making her in my eyes more interpretative than anything but her modern language was commented on a lot. I believe if it is beginner level you want and you do not care for absolute fedelity of translations she is also a very good choice

Now for abridged versions I am not so sure. I would expect you can find very good versions out there but I am not entirely certain. Recently I came across also a illustrated novel version that has some gorgeous illustrations:

I am not sure how much of the text they actually include but from the illustrations in there that not only are super artistic but also looking very good to artistically represent the era they are talking about I should say it is worth the read. I only saw a couple of parts and clips of it and seems worth it!

So to conclude, I'd say no translation can get to the exact Greek text but if I were to suggest one I should say Riew or Fagles If you do not care about very very close accuracy and only want to enjoy the text and the plot I would say Wilson would be a choice for you given how many people have commented that she "dums down" the text aka makes it more comprehensible

I hope these help! ^_^

#katerinaaqu answers

8 notes · View notes

malleux · 2 years ago

Text

freedom. | quest for tyr [I]

[main page] | [t.o.c] | [spellbook] | [ << | >> ]

young adult!atreus x reader

-> synopsis: The only times you had ever experienced adventure was through your books. It was hard to live an exciting life while trapped in Alfheim.

You know you're meant for something greater than wasting away underground.

[loosely based on the events of Gow: Ragnarok]

-> chapter warnings: all chapters may contain spoilers, fighting, cursing, mimir torture

"C'mon, up, up, you've got a big day ahead of you!"

Sindri's voice, paired with the feeling of your blanket being ripped off of you, roused you from your slumber. You frowned and curled up into yourself, trying to preserve a little bit or warmth.

"Y/N, it's time to get up." Atreus's voice rang out this time, and his hand rested on your arm, giving it a small shake. "We've gotta get to Svartalfheim soon. Sindri made breakfast."

You peeled one eye open, coming face to face with a pair of blue eyes. Atreus smiled and patted your arm one last time before standing up and grabbing his own gear to get ready.

You yawned, stretching as you sat up.

"Sleep well?" Atreus asked, his back to you as he made sure his bow was in tact.

"Kind of, yeah." You laughed, "My first time sleeping somewhere new, my body isn't used to it yet."

Atreus nodded, opening the door of the bedroom for you both to head out. "Just wait until we have to sleep on the ground somewhere. That's where it gets really uncomfortable."

You internally groaned, "Sounds miserable."

"A small price to pay for an adventure!" Sindri chimed into your conversation as you made your way to the table. "There's bacon, eggs, and toast for a big breakfast today, at the request of the young lad."

In your peripheral, Atreus rubbed the back of his neck. "Just to make sure we're prepared for the journey." He laughed nervously.

Sindri nodded along, handing you a plate of food and a small pouch. "It's not much, but it's got your weapons, some snacks, and a resurrection stone." He pulled you down to his height and whispered, "Plus I wrote down a few spells I think you'd find beneficial. I noticed your books yesterday and couldn't help but assist."

You gave Sindri a genuine smile, "That's so kind of you. Thank you so much."

"Ah, it's nothin'." Sindri waved you off. "In return, just make sure you all get back safe and keep that boy in check."

"I can hear you!" Atreus called from the table, earning a small laugh from you and Sindri.

You thanked him again and sat at the table, the only open seat being beside Kratos. The man still intimidated you a lot, but you supposed you'd better start getting used to him. He huffed in acknowledgment as you sat beside him, but said nothing more.

Once breakfast was through, Kratos stood and made his way outside. You'd figured out by now that he expected you and Atreus to follow soon.

You looked at Atreus and he shrugged, gesturing to his unfinished meal. He was staying to finish it.

Instead of following Kratos out alone, you opened the satchel Sindri had given you and took out a folded piece of paper. Written inside were a list of spells— fighting, healing, a wide variety that would be useful on a journey.

'Logi: fire. Sverð: sword. Verja: defend.'

You tried to commit as many spells to memory as you could, but without practicing them you weren't sure how effective they'd be. You wouldn't have much time to do anything with them, as Atreus had finished eating and motioned for the both of you to head out and meet up with his father.

"Now, Mimir, you remember what we talked about? We'll just need the Bifrost and the head. Brok, do the touching."

"Ah, so this will be the part requiring my assistance?"

You quirked your eyebrow at the large contraption near Sindri. Kratos opened the Mystic Gateway and Brok took Mimir, placing the head in the contraption.

Atreus, who still stood beside you, spoke. "They're using Mimir's Bifrost eyes to let us travel between realms. This way, we don't have to wait for the Dwarves to do it every time. We can use the Yggdrasil Seeds to travel to Svartalfheim."

You only hummed, watching.

"So, do I control this thing, then?"

"Oh, no. No no no no no no no." Sindri responded to Mimir, "This is just to hold you in place while we shine this light into your eyes."

"Oh, Sindri, you sodding bastard!"

Mimir's cries fell upon deaf ears as the light shone in his face. Brok just laughed as Sindri repositioned the contraption to face the Gateway.

"Open your eyes. I'm really hoping to not have to use the eyelid clamps."

Mimir, still crying out, opened his eyes and took in the light. Sindri cheered and on his command, Mimir released the light into the Mystic Gateway. The dwarves then ran to the door, getting to work as Mimir continued to complain in the background.

"And— there. That should do it. No permanent damage." Sindri inspected the Gateway.

"I'll show you permanent damage, you wee fuck. Kratos, throw me at him! Horns first!"

"Aww, can't you take a joke, you old goat?" Brok was having the time of his life.

"That looked like it hurt." You whispered.

"Yeah, but Mimir can take it." Atreus shrugged, "I'm sure he's been through a lot worse. C'mon, father's ready to go."

Atreus started towards the Mystic Gateway, where Kratos had already retrieved Mimir and stood, waiting for the both of you. You quickly followed, not wanting to be a burden to them.

You followed the pair, and Sindri, through the branches of Yggdrasil until coming upon another Gateway, this time to Svartalfheim. Sindri bid his goodbyes, and left you to step through the light.

The first thing you noticed when stepping into the realm was how awful it smelled. Everything in the realm just seemed to be... off. The sun was slightly too bright, it was too hot, and the atmosphere smelled atrocious.

Though, hating the bright light could just be your Dark Elf side, because Atreus was basking in the sun. He enjoyed the warmth, stretching his arms out to take it in.

"It's a bit much." You chimed in.

"Maybe to you, but Midgard has been frozen for years now. I'm so glad to be away from the snow!" Atreus rushed ahead of you and Kratos. "Maybe we can use this boat."

He began to slice at the ropes, cutting the small boat away from its rack and ignoring Mimir's call for caution. The boat shifted a bit as Atreus freed it, but instead of moving the boat he fell back with a yell.

Small lizard-creatures jumped from behind the boat, darting from side to side and attacking Atreus as he tried to regain his footing. "Why are these things so fast?"

Kratos ran at the creatures with his axe, swinging at them as they attacked. It was difficult, though, as they would continue to jump out of the way before getting hit. Atreus was in the same boat, being unable to aim his arrow at them before they moved. He'd resorted to just hitting them with the bow itself.

You decided to take a different route, staying a respectable distance away from the monsters and raising your hand.

You concentrated on one of the monsters, and whispered, "Logi."

The creature burst into flames, crying out in its own weird, monster-ish way. Atreus looked at the monster, and back at you, your hand still slightly glowing with light. He laughed, before getting hit in the back of the head by a lizard and turning back to the fight.

You tried again on another one, this time only speaking the spell in your head. Success.

More creatures— Wretches, Mimir had called them a moment ago— came from cracks and crevices of the rocks around you, and you began to get overwhelmed. Burning them one by one, then by twos, and then threes, wasn't enough.

Eventually, in a last-ditch effort, you aimed your palms at the ground and imagined the power going to every Wretch in the area. "Logi!"

Wretch cries were heard once more, and then nothing. Just the smell of burning flesh permeating the already-smelly air.

"Y/N! How'd you do that? You killed them all in one shot!" Atreus bounded up to you, grinning. Kratos chose to put the boat in the water, not-so-subtly keeping an ear turned towards the both of you.

"I, uh, actually don't know." Your cheeks flushed a bit, embarrassed that you were getting praised for something you can't even control. "That was my first time using that spell. It was honestly exhausting."

"I'm sure it was, that was a lot of magic to kill all of those Wretches." Atreus patted your shoulder, leading you towards the boat. You both sat in the front, while Kratos began to row in the back.

You never realized how tiring magic was— or, rather, you'd just never used that much magic before. It really was a lot, with dozens of Wretches coming upon you. You were sure you could've handled it better, like with the magic from your spear that isn't physically taxing, but where was the fun in that?

Your hands were sore. They felt like they had been burned from the fire that they had summoned. Perhaps that was a side-effect you were unaware of?

Your head hurt, too, like there was too much pressure in your ears and behind your eyes, making your eyelids droop and your face feel heavy. Your body was exhausted, and you slumped forward slightly, only to jerk back up to stay awake.

Atreus, concerned, looked towards his father. Kratos kept his eyes on the river.

"Magic is a finicky thing." Kratos began, making you sit up and pay attention. "You never know what it is going to do or how it will affect you. I suggest training more before deciding to randomly use magic you've never done before. You could have gotten severely injured."

"Yes, sir." You felt slightly dejected, but understood where he was coming from. You didn't expect this guy to be some big softie when it came to mistakes, anyways.

Atreus turned towards the water. "It looks like we've got a ways before we might have to get out. Why don't you rest?"

"I'm fine," You reassured him, "I don't need to be asleep and caught off guard if something happens."

"But the water is so peaceful," Atreus argued, "Even I could take a nap right now."

"You never know." Kratos agreed with you, "Naps are for those with no goals in life. If you have time to nap, you must find something more productive to do."

"Now, I wouldn't go that far." You laughed, "I love a good nap, but now is definitely not the time. Not in a foreign realm where we don't know what could happen."

Kratos hummed, and Atreus fidgeted. It was obvious he had more to say.

"Isn't it cool how mom led a whole rebellion here and didn't tell us?" He finally let it out.

"The fact that it didn't go well might have curbed that notion." Mimir replied.

"Wait, what?" You were intrigued. You didn't remember reading about a rebellion in Svartalfheim in any of your books.

"My mom is a Giant," Atreus explained, "She, uh, passed a few years ago. She apparently did a lot before meeting father, and the Giants in Jötunheim called me Loki in their prophecies with her! So I'm half Giant, half God—"

"Atreus. There is such thing as giving too much information."

"You're a God?" You turned to Kratos, "Norse?"

"No. Not Norse."

That was the only information he would give, so you let it be, choosing to go back to Atreus. "That's really cool. I wish I could've gone and led a rebellion instead of being trapped for years." You half-joked.

"If you didn't talk about your past, what did you talk about?" Atreus pushed, "Were you just like, 'Woman, guard house. I will go catch fish in the river'?".

You laughed for a moment, and Atreus snuck a glance at you before smiling as well.

"No. Your mother was far better at fishing than I."

The conversation didn't continue, and eventually you all came across a mechanism blocking the channel. A large wheel was stuck in the water, and the only hole that could let the boat go through was at the top. Nowhere near where the boat could go through.

"I imagine if you could turn it, we should be able to get through." Mimir mused.

Kratos docked the boat and you all got out, searching for a way to move the wheel. Kratos went near the wheel while Atreus inspected a geyser nearby. You, on the other hand, stayed back to inspect the contraption as a whole.

"This smell is making my eyes burn..." Atreus grimaced as he followed his father up onto a platform.

Mimir hummed. "You know, it is a fair bit more potent than when I last visited, now that you mention it."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one." You said, "I thought I was just being sensitive."

"Looks like the path continues on the other side of this geyser." You met Kratos and Atreus at the water, listening to Atreus. "Heh. If we were in Midgard, that water would be frozen in a second."

Kratos froze the geyser using his axe, jumping up to another platform eye-level with the wheel. He took his blades and attached them to the wheel, yanking it towards him and making the opening face downwards into the water.

Nords, he was strong.

You followed the two back down, taking out a Wretch here and there, before boarding the boat again and going about your way.

Hopefully that would be the only obstacle.

[ >> ]

72 notes · View notes