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xjulixred45x · 3 months

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Lancelot (4Kota) with an S/o similar to Mitsuri Kanroji(KNY)...

Like, reader is probably a hybrid between human and giant, who just looks very human and so on, but has the strength of her giant relative, compressed muscle. She was probably even from some town like Benwick or even lived near the fairies.

but then she started interacting with humans and precisely because of her human appearance (very cute) they accepted her a lot. even with her colossal strength (they thought it was her magical power).

I have a idea/feeling that she would know Lancelot from his travels with Jericho at first por when he come back from his first journey, just the reader could realize his mixed descent and would constantly bug him to be her friend.

I'm not going to lie, at first Lancelot found her a little quite annoying because of her cheerfull attitude and her insistence on being friends, but when he saw her heart he could tell that she was sincere (apart from the fact that the reader would stop if it was too much for him) so he decided at least to let her be close.

reader was someone very bright! which contrasted VERY MUCH with Lancelot's serious and stoic attitude, she would talk and talk and talk to him about things that were happening in the town, something cute she saw the other day, the huge meal that the bartender served her and that she ate it all, etc

Lancelot would just sit still and listen with his typical :| face, but in reality it amuses him that reader is surprised by such everyday things.

Even if Lancelot said that the reader was "annoying" he left out actions that showed the opposite, such as showing her things he brought from his missions, showing her his "Sin" form and in general he listened to her and even gave her advice when she asked for it.

He liked having someone so sincere for so long, but he was pretty bad at saying it verbally, so he just showed it through actions. He's a tsundere kind of guy

(imagine if I gave the reader some type of garment/ornament like in that scene with Mitsuri and Obanai🥺it would be so cute).

Reader also tends to get emotional as they grow up, when she cries, she CRY A LOT, she almost scared Lancelot away when one time she came crying with him, he was ready to kill someone, but the reader had just seen a very big snake in her shed and she got scared😅 (a very common nickname of Lancelot to the reader is "cry baby" or "dork").

By the time they are teenagers, Lancelot not only tolerates the reader more, but also appreciates her a lot, not only because she sticks to him like glue, but because she is very sincere in what she thinks and says, someone he trusts will say the true.

For this reason, Lancelot is quite cautious with the people around her, even if he appreciates and loves her, he recognizes that she lacks a little understanding that not everyone is a good person, especially when she develops a certain phase of being in love.

Although Lancelot didn't spend much time in the city, he tried to give the reader "subtle" clues about which guys were worth it (almost none) and which weren't (almost all). Fortunately or unfortunately, the reader distanced herself from almost all of them except for ONE especially despicable one. But he couldn't really make her stop, so she just rolled her eyes at every mention of the boy.

Lancelot understands that the reader wants to fall in love, in the future maybe get married and start a family, but could she PLEASE stop going after guys who aren't worth it?

The breaking point occurs when THIS JERK not only rejected Reader(that was the least), but despises her for being a giant, telling her horrible things like "only a bear would marry you" and leaving the reader heartbroken.

Obviously the guy doesn't get very far, but the words cut deep into the reader, who never really saw her strength as something bad until that moment (or her big appetite, or "unfeminine" habits) and begins to wonder, is she the one wrong?

Lancelot (even though he is somewhat bad with emotions) had to interfere and not let the reader get to her head, so what if they were rare hybrids? He wouldn't change anything about how she was a reader, NOTHING, just as she wouldn't change anything about him.

It's a nice cute little moment.

If we talk about the current relationship, it is like the dynamic of "sunshine" and "sunshine protector" (better known as "if they're smile disappears YOU DISAPPEAR). or simply an odd couple. The reader tends to be gentler with him group but somewhat clumsy while Lancelot the most responsible but much less gentle...

Even if Reader knows how to fight, there is no way she can match Lancelot's level, so she is more of a rearguard fighter. It should not be taken lightly either. Believe me, Lancelot knows...

they're like:

Lancelot: someone is going to die--(reader covers his mouth with unhuman streng)

reader: OF FUN!

Lancelot and reader take full advantage of reader's ridiculous strength! either for the benefit of people (such as clearing paths or moving heavy stuck objects, for fights, etc) or for certain little jokes.

Lancelot probably encourages the reader to basically train her giant skills, just in case she has to defend the town she lives in or herself. I don't think he can teach her how to use "heavy metal" but he can definitely give some advice regarding elementary handling.

(Lancelot has been carried princess style by reader more times than the other way around, it's fun and cute to see).

Lancelot fully supports the great reader's appetite! She burns a lot of calories with her great strength, so she needs to eat a lot, if reader convinces him enough, they can compete to see who eats the most, they have a great series of ties.

when reader really fights, she's actually pretty good! Only of course, when she eventually reaches her point of greatest exhaustion, she begins to despair and thinks she is going to die😅 Lancelot tells her half jokingly/half lovingly that she is a crybaby, but that she did quite well on her own.

(by the way, only Lancelot can call the reader a crybaby, anyone else gets a hit on the back of the head).

In general, it's like the typical "opposites attract" but it's actually quite healthy✨

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

#headcanons #fem reader #4kota #4kota lancelot #4kota lancelot x reader #lancelot #lancelot x reader #mokushiroku no yonkishi #4 knights of the apocalypse #4 knights of the apocalypse lancelot #mokushiroku no yonkishi lancelot #fluff #mitsuri kanroji

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bethanydelleman · 1 year

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“Pierce” in Persuasion

Jane Austen does this thing where she uses certain words only for certain characters or in certain novels. Emma uses the word “blunder” more than any other book (it’s a major plot clue) and the word “supernumerary” is only used twice in her entire compendium and both times it’s near Mrs. Norris in Mansfield Park.

The novel Persuasion uses the word “pierce” exactly twice and both times it’s said by Captain Wentworth:

He stopped. A sudden recollection seemed to occur, and to give him some taste of that emotion which was reddening Anne’s cheeks and fixing her eyes on the ground. After clearing his throat, however, he proceeded thus—

“I confess that I do think there is a disparity, too great a disparity, and in a point no less essential than mind. I regard Louisa Musgrove as a very amiable, sweet-tempered girl, and not deficient in understanding, but Benwick is something more. He is a clever man, a reading man; and I confess, that I do consider his attaching himself to her with some surprise. Had it been the effect of gratitude, had he learnt to love her, because he believed her to be preferring him, it would have been another thing. But I have no reason to suppose it so. It seems, on the contrary, to have been a perfectly spontaneous, untaught feeling on his side, and this surprises me. A man like him, in his situation! with a heart pierced, wounded, almost broken! Fanny Harville was a very superior creature, and his attachment to her was indeed attachment. A man does not recover from such a devotion of the heart to such a woman. He ought not; he does not.” (Ch 20)

And the second:

“I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope.... (Ch 22)

Wentworth cannot understand how Captain Benwick can recover from the wound of losing the love of his life, because Wentworth never has. These two statements are bound by the word “pierce”.

(Thank you Project Gutenberg. I only noticed this because I use “pierce” as a search term to find the letter)

#project gutenberg #jane austen #persuasion #captain wentworth #you pierce my soul #I should do more of these and make a tag for them #Jane Austen Wordsmith #wordsmith means a skilled user of words.#that'll work #I have a few more of them

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theprinceofliones · 3 months

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Omg your headcanon for Lancelot are great! I also got a headcanon for Lancelot....😗....he likes kissing Percival on his forehead when nobody is looking...😚🤭 got some more headcanons for Lancelot or any other character?

Aww thank you hun!!! And yes! I have a ton of more headcanons for other characters! Mainly for Meliodas, Ban, Elizabeth, and Elaine hehe

One more Lancelot headcanon tho that I forgot to mention, something that's kind of au-like but, since he was stuck with the Lady of the Lake for so long, he considers her like a mother almost. She was the one who was with him the entire time he was stuck wherever he was. Of course, had Master Jericho, but Lady of the Lake, /Mother/, was by his side, in his mind, whispering words of comfort in his ear and running her hidden fingers through his hair when he needed reassuring. She was a rock he didn't know he needed. But, she's also the reason for everything he hates about himself. It's why he avoids Benwick, why he doesn't come home. He can't face his mother---his /real/ mother, how could he, when he replaced her so easily?

Very much Stockholm syndromey for sure with the whole Lady of the Lake situation. He feels like he needs her even though she was the one keeping him trapped. He needs her like he needs a limb, but at the same time, he feels like he could make do with never seeing her again because he hates her for taking away those years he could've had with his parents, his uncles, his aunties, with /Tristan/---

But, that's a story for another day...

MELIODAS HEADCANONS HEHEHEHE

Meliodas is a VERY overprotective father. It might not seem like it at first, but he's extremely careful and watchful of his son. That's his baby. The one thing he's been waiting for for nearly three thousand years, the thing that brings him and Elizabeth eternal joy and happiness, the one thing that makes all of their suffering worth it.

When Tristan is born, Meliodas is like "dude I hit the jackpot first TRY" because holy shit THAT'S ELIZABETH REBORN...AGAIN! It's why they stopped at one---they don't need to try again bECAUSE HE ALREADY WON AHAHAHA

(Ban and Meliodas are like sobbing for joy together because they BOTH won man. Sons that look just like their mothers first, TRY. A millennia in purgatory was all worth it for THEM)

He's TERRIFIED of the thought of Tristan training with real weapons when he's a toddler though. Elizabeth is all for it, saying that he'd be fine and they'd be right there if anything happened. She was always willing to let Tristan have the freedom they never did---but Meliodas was biting his knuckles bloody because what if his little boy gets HURT??? Goddess healing or not, his precious boy would still be in pain!!!

Like I said, VERRYYYY overprotective but slowly tries to learn to let go and let his son be his own, although as Tristan grows up, he mistakes his father's overprotectiveness for disappointment and doubt in his own child. But, Tristan couldn't be more wrong...

Hehe onto Elizabeth!

She is a boy mom. A boy. Mom. Not them toxic boy moms, a BOY MOM. She dresses her son up in pretty little outfits when he's a newborn through his toddler ages, almost like a cute tiny doll. He has two entire wardrobes filled with frilly dresses and adorable little fluffy blouses by the time he's four. She braids his hair, lets it grow long and longer still. Ties his silver locks into ponytails, or buns, and even puts little accessories on his head here and there. Tristan surprises her with how much he seems to love it---or maybe it's because his mother's attention is solely focused on him.

SHE IS THE QUEEN OF BRITANNIA! I'm sorry but making Meliodas King makes absolutely no sense to me...probably bc I'm a hardcore ASOIAF fan so seeing a daughter who is technically in line for throne get cast aside by a random male protagonist with no claim whatsoever makes me lose my mind lmfao. BUT SHE IS THE QUEEN! She handles diplomatic and domestic issues all throughout the kingdom meanwhile Meliodas is in charge of the military, trade routes, training Holy Knights, and other little things that the Queen doesn't need to be involved with.

She acts more like the Elizabeth we meet at the beginning of the series, a little more reserved and a little shyer but she will stand her ground and be the Queen her kingdom needs when the time calls for it.

Nakaba, I like you sometimes and all, but that god awful, horrible, eye traumatizing DRESS you put that beautiful woman in is a crime against women. I WON'T STAND FOR IT! Elizabeth wears the most REGAL ELEGANT gowns. Thinking more of victorian and medieval fashion slapped together with some Targaryen fashion sprinkled in as well. She WILL be dressed beautifully with a silver band that wraps around her head with little jewels and crystals hanging from it. Meliodas has a gold band with a single gem, indicating his status as the Prince-Consort to the Queen, and then Tristan has a silver band like his mother with sapphires and pearls, indicating HIS status as the Crown Prince of Britannia and biological relation to the Queen of Britannia.

Oh, final thing. BAN, MELIODAS, ELIZABETH, AND ELAINE HAVE ALL HAD A FOURSOME AT LEAST ONCE I DON'T MAKE THE RULES I'M MERELY A PAWN IN NAKABA'S GAME

okay okay I'm so sorry I went on a tangent BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED! I love answering asks so keep them coming! Feel free to ask about Half Light as well! I'd love to chat about it!

#nanatsu no taizai #mokushiroku no yonkishi #the seven deadly sins #the four knights of the apocalypse #tristan liones #meliodas #elizabeth liones #4kota #lancelot #ban the undead #ban nnt #elaine #nnt meliodas #nnt manga #nnt #meliodas nnt

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oldshrewsburyian · 2 years

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“no one... so capable as Anne”

HOW DOES WENTWORTH KNOW?

Only capslock can express my feelings at this point. Their period of exquisite felicity, over eight years ago, was brief. And at that point, Anne was only 19 years old, the neglected middle daughter of a prosperous family. Am I convinced that Anne did try to help educate and guide Mary after their mother died? Sure. Was she appealed to by the staff as the most sensible person in the house? Quite possibly, although she would have been only fairly recently returned from school, where she was miserable. Still: her opportunities for demonstrating capability would have been strictly limited.

Which leads me to the conclusion that he knows because of observing her in the preceding days and weeks. He knows because of watching her manage Mary’s moods. He knows because of watching her take care of her nephews, and play dances for an informal assembly, and be kind to Mrs. Musgrove and Captain Benwick alike. And this lets us as the readers know that no matter what she may believe, and no matter what he may tell himself, Frederick Wentworth has not ever stopped being hyper-aware of what Anne Elliot is doing at all times.

#persuasion reread #*high-pitched tea kettle noises*#persuasion #frederick 'unconsciously nay unintentionally constant' wentworth everyone #jane austen #will not let us REST #anne elliot #defense squad etc.

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hotjaneaustenmenpoll · 4 months

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I'm glad at least some of the men from the older BBC adaptations made the cut, but I'm sad not to see Captain Harville and Captain Benwick from 1971 Persuasion! I'll admit that Captain Wentworth from that adaptation is not that hot (even if it is my favorite version), but Paul Chapman is definitely the hottest of the Benwicks, and Michael Culver as Harville is just hot full stop!

Pics as evidence:

The pre-90s adaptations are getting a lot of love (but can they win a match-up). This Captain Harville has peaked my interest!

#asks #i have to say not too keen on this captain benwick but harville very nice

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onebluebookworm · 6 months

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Should You Fight Them? - Jane Austen Romantic Runner-Up Edition

Companion piece to this post. Because I still think I'm funny, even with this horribly outdated meme format.

John Willoughby: Even if you don't take into account the lying, the two-timing, the manipulation, the abandoning of a pregnant teenager, and the fact he's a whiny toddler man who could have solved most of his problems by not being a gold-digging shit, he still seems utterly insufferable to be around. Fuck this little bastard up.

George Wickham: It's honestly hard for me to choose who between him and Willoughby I hate more, but at least Wickham has the smarts to realize when he's fucked up with one Bennett sister and move on to the other. Still a stinky garbage boy who belongs in the toilet. I would say fight him, but let's be real here, Darcy would beat you to it.

William Collins: Yes, we all know he's insufferable and pompous and boorish, but I honestly can't bring myself to hate him all that much. I don't know, maybe it's the BBC miniseries clouding my judgement, but he also has this wet beast (derogatory) vibe about him that makes him kinda pathetic. Don't fight, but you could like...I dunno, maybe trip him?

Henry Crawford: Henry, I wanna root for you, pal. You're a lot like Willoughby, where if you just stop being a philandering little doofus and actual focus on being a good person, you would actually be really fun to be around and potentially even husband material. Don't fight, but definitely shame him over the fact he could be so much better than he is. You're not mad, just disappointed.

Philip Elton: I know he was never in Emma's league to begin with, but I can't not put him on here, simply because he's just the worst. An absolute feeb and a loser. He and Mr. Collins would be friends if either of them were capable of being likeable. Absolutely fight, and maybe take on his wife while you're at it.

Frank Churchill: My dude. My guy. My sweet little meow meow. Please just tell people things. At least let one person into your confidence about this whole "secret engagement with Jane" thing. Please, bro. You're decimating the vibes, bro. Look at your girl, Frank. She's got anxiety, Frank. Fight, if only to knock some sense into his idiot head.

John Thorpe: John wants to be a Willoughy or a Wickham so bad. Just so clever and cunning that he breaks a bunch of hearts before landing himself a wife that will give him all of the money. Unfortunately for him, he's just...not that smart. I'm not saying Willoughby or Wickham are necessarily smart, but they at least get their plans off the ground. John doesn't even get his foot in the door. He figures out Catherine doesn't have any money and panics. You could fight him, but I honestly think this poor dunce has suffered enough.

William Elliot: Remember how I said Frank ruined the vibe? William Elliot does that too, but on purpose. Just an absolutely rancid man. Fight him and show no mercy.

James Benwick: He's just a little guy. A little fella. A little creecher. He doesn't even have any proper dialogue throughout the whole book. You're gonna fight a little creecher who doesn't even say anything? A little birthday boy? You'd fight him?

#book humor #sense and sensibility #pride and prejudice #mansfield park #emma #northanger abbey #persuasion #jane austen

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gailyinthedark · 9 months

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I know there are two bishops mentioned in the text (Rochester and Canterbury), but I keep thinking of them as the same guy. Maybe he was reappointed during the siege of Benwick? Anyway I'd love to see the story told from his perspective.

First the pope sends you to sort out whatever's going on between Arthur and Lancelot.

Then (after being reappointed to Canterbury) you try to stop Mordred from usurping the throne by threatening to curse him.

He responds with evil laughter, so you do curse him. Orgulously.

Since Mordred is pretty ticked at you now and more direct heavenly intervention is needed, you become a hermit dedicated to praying for your country's salvation.

Bedivere shows up.

You bury the king and after a bit Lancelot finds you as well.

There's a whole influx of knights looking to become hermits.

They hang out for six years or so, till Lancelot and Guinevere are both dead. Then they disperse, and you return to your bishopric.

The knights becoming hermits says a lot about the culture of the story, I think. Their world is entrenchedly catholic, built on the idea that even when everything good is gone and broken and wrecked, God will still accept whatever is humbly offered. Yes, there is grievous hurt here, and the times we loved are not coming back, but there's a little bell in a chapel and somehow that makes a difference.

#I'm not crying you're crying #le morte d'arthur #arthuriana #thomas malory #medieval literature #bishop of canterbury #mordred #bedivere #lancelot #spoilers

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amarguerite · 2 years

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currently working on an assignment about Persuasion, which means I'm spending entirely too much time thinking about individual sentences, and specifically about the Croft Carriage Scene, and - "[Wentworth] quietly obliged her to be assisted into the carriage" is an incredibly weirdly constructed sentence, the whole passage sort of dances around the act of him helping her into the carriage proper, and it made me wonder - given that the narration (which is heavily filtered through Anne's perspective) gets so odd, and given social conventions re: physical contact, and given how you help someone into a carriage - is this the first time after eight years that Anne and Wentworth are actually, properly touching? because if so that would explain why Anne.exe just fully stops working for a moment

anyway yeah I figured there was a chance you might have interesting thoughts/insight on this. it's almost 5am here, apologies if this is incoherent

I would say yes, yes indeed-- I've always considered this to be the first time in eight years that Anne and Wentworth touched.

My own thoughts are a bit inchoate but in terms of why I think the narration gets odd... I think there's a couple of reasons why the close third person with Anne becomes impersonal and a bit removed from the action:

Touch-starved Anne's overwhelmed so she's disassociating slightly / in too much shock to protest to take in what's happening

To show how social convention both provides a means of physical touch for the two estranged former fiancés, but also imposes a distance. Anne is getting into the carriage because of a social obligation imposed on her by Wentworth and his family-- to reject their offer now would be ruder than accepting it-- and it also provides a space of ambiguity as to the motives behind Anne's initial refusal and Wentworth's initial offer. Anne (and the reader) can wonder if he's motivated by a sense of social convention (gentlemen were expected to have a certain degree of gallantry to the ladies of a party) or by a personal desire not to see her suffer. Wentworth in turn, can be uncertain if Anne gave in after her initial refusal because she still is easily swayed by the arguments of others, or if she refused because she doesn't want to impose or be a burden.

It showcases Wentworth's active nature and social skills. As with the much lauded (and rightly so!) removal of the misbehaving toddler scene, it shows that even on land and in domestic matters, Wentworth is an active participant, who can fix problems as soon as he sees them and in ways that make everyone comfortable, without breaking the harmony of the social contract all members of the Regency gentry tended to value at this point in time.

It shows how Anne and Wentworth still have the capacity to communicate silently with each other-- something that becomes very important later, in the climax of the novel, with the letter-writing scene-- and can use the social dynamics of a group to their advantage-- again important in the letter writing scene. Wentworth here uses the obligation of Admiral and Mrs. Croft's offer to communicate silently (without saying a word, according to the text) to Anne and achieve his objective; later he uses the obligation of writing a letter for Harville and Benwick to once again communicate silently with Anne and achieve his objective of confessing his feelings and proposing by writing a letter.

I think it's also a very subtle little commentary on why Anne broke the engagement: the desire not to be a burden, combined with lack of familial support. She certainly didn't have Sophie and the Admiral in her corner back then. Plus, I think it's a little hint as to what she can expect in future: family that cares for her, that will notice when she needs help and automatically provide it for her.

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talesofourworlds · 10 months

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@thosetaleskids liked for a Berseria anniversary starter!

Responses from Edna weren't the most common thing in the world, so when Benwick mentioned White Turtlez coming by with one it was only natural that Eizen would want to stop to read it. It was just by chance that Velvet had decided they needed to stop for supplies anyway. So there he sat, perched on the pier with letter in hand and reading glasses on to pour over what his sister had decided to talk about. The rest of the Van Eltia's crew knew by then that it was best to leave him be, at least apart from acknowledging the letter had come. So Eizen was content with the knowledge he wouldn't be disturbed.

A soft smile lingered on his face as he moved to the next page. Apparently a family of squirrels had taken up residence on a tree near the house. Eizen knew Edna likely mentioned it because she knew he liked them. The letter wrapped up with her talking about how she'd been doing. As long as she was okay, he could keep doing what he was doing.

He carefully folded the pages of the letter and pocketed them, turning his head a moment later to observe the sea before them. The waters weren't looking as rough as they could. Smooth sailing in the coming days, perhaps? That would have been good news for Velvet as they prepared to take their final stand against Artorius and Innominat. It did seem everyone had things they were trying to wrap up, though. Like Magilou's desire to do those comedy shows, or Rokurou looking out for the Code Red daemons. Or even Laphicet looking for ingredients for that Omega Elixir. Speaking of...

Even with the ever persistent sound of the ocean's waves hitting the pier's pillars, he could hear the footsteps of his fellow malak. He looked over his shoulder and motioned with his head to acknowledge Laphicet. Then, he reached up to take his reading glasses off.

"I thought you'd be off with Velvet helping her get supplies," Eizen said. "Something on your mind?"

#ic #thosetaleskids #Follows His Creed (Eizen)#Following Our Paths

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rickisanidiot · 2 years

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Ban after lance’s disappearance

Ban drinks everyday and every second (he also barely sleeps-), it was getting really concerning to elaine so she told king about it and king was also getting concerned so he came back to benwick with elaine and attempted to cheer him up but got into a big fight with ban and it was getting so bad to the point elaine had to break it up but it didn't stop king from trying to cheer him up so he continued telling ban its gonna be okay but it only made ban even more pissed and yelled at king saying its not gonna be okay and that he's a bad father, he started to think lancelot was dead because he searched high and low for his son and couldn't find him anywhere no matter how hard he tried, he eventually started to give up and gave into his alcohol addiction and thats when... it got worse, he started getting angry at himself like he did years ago when elaine died, he wanted to die and he knew he could, now that he is no longer immortal but anytime he attempts to elaine had to get diane or king to calm him down. back to ''present'' time, king was starting to give up on trying to cheer up ban since it was beginning to look hopeless, he left benwick and back to his children, hoping he won't end up like ban.

he felt bad for ban surely but he knew he couldn't stay away from his kids and he knew ban was a lost cause but he still helps whenever ban attempts to off himself, he wish lancelot was safe and that ban could eventually be his old happy self again. After years gone by, tristan has passed benwick, he knew ban was drinking and how sad elaine and ban was so he went over to them and hugged the two, ban pulled away from the hug but tristan understood and respected bans personal space. He tells ban and elaine lancelot is in liones and that he was safe, once tristan told them that bans eyes finally lit up again and was happy, his drinking slowed down and he eventually stopped drinking but he was still slightly worried for his son but tried to remain calm

#seven deadly sins #nanatsu no taizai #4 knights of the apocalypse #mokushiroku no yon kishi #4kota #nnt #7ds #nnt ban #nnt king #nnt elaine #4kota lancelot

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capricorn-0mnikorn · 2 years

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📖Persuasion📖 Listen- and Read-Along, Chapters Thirteen, Fourteen, and Fifteen.

(I haven’t forgotten this - just dealing with insomnia, migraines, and brain fog these last couple of weeks. I hope to get back into the rhythm going forward. At least this hit right at the “Intermission,” eh?)

Discussion of Chapter Twelve Starts here.

Audio of Karen Savage’s LibriVox Reading on YouTube, starting at Chapter 13, Part One (Chapters 13, 14, and 15 together ~ 43 minutes at normal speed)

Moira Fogarty’s reading at LibriVox (Chapters 13, 14, and 15 together ~ 50 minutes)

Text of Chapters Thirteen, Fourteen, and Fifteen at Project Gutenberg.

Synopses:

Chapter 13:

Anne has two days at Uppercross Hall, and is satisfied that she can be of some help.

When Lady Russell returns to Kellynch village, and it comes time for Anne to leave to go stay with her, the others are upset, so Anne suggests they all take lodgings in Lyme, to be closer to Louisa, and helps send them off. Lady Russell and Anne fulfill their social duty (which, for Anne is a pleasure, but she doesn’t want to say it out loud to her friend) of paying a visit to the Crofts. Anne is relieved to learn that the Crofts plan to do some traveling in the north of the country, shortly after this visit, and that there was no danger of Captain Wentworth and Lady Russell meeting.

Chapter 14:

Charles and Mary finally come home from Lyme after Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove get there to be with Louisa. Charles Musgrove is convinced that Captain Benwick is in love with Anne, and is bound to come visit any day. Without any prompting, Anne is given news of Captain Wentworth: his spirits are improving as Louisa’s health is improving, but he’s worried that talking with her will be too upsetting before she is fully well, so he’s gone to see his brother in Shropshire for a week or so. Captain Benwick does not come to visit.

Chapter 15:

Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove return to Uppercross, since their boys are home for the Christmas holidays, and they bring the Harville’s daughters with them, to give Captain and Mrs. Harville a break. Anne loves the Christmas atmosphere at Uppercross Hall, but Lady Russell does not. And then, it’s time to go to Bath to live with her father and sister, and Mrs. Clay is still there. Anne is surprised that Sir Walter and Elizabeth are happy to see her (although it’s mostly so they can boast about how nice it is in Bath), and she’s also surprised that Mr. Elliot is there, too, and apparently fully reconciled with the family. Late in the evening on her first day, Mr. Elliot stops by to visit, and recognizes her from Lyme, and actually engages her in conversation. Anne thinks this first day in Bath was actually rather pleasant.

Favorite Quotes:

Chapter 13:

In speaking of the Harvilles, [Charles Musgrove] seemed unable to satisfy his own sense of their kindness, especially of Mrs Harville’s exertions as a nurse. “She really left nothing for Mary to do. He and Mary had been persuaded to go early to their inn last night. Mary had been hysterical again this morning. When he came away, she was going to walk out with Captain Benwick, which, he hoped, would do her good. He almost wished she had been prevailed on to come home the day before; but the truth was, that Mrs Harville left nothing for anybody to do.”

Charles, with all due respect, sir, I think it’s that Mrs. Harville recognizes that none of you lot are very competent in this case, and just wants you all out of the way.

An hour’s complete leisure for such reflections as these, on a dark November day, a small thick rain almost blotting out the very few objects ever to be discerned from the windows, was enough to make the sound of Lady Russell’s carriage exceedingly welcome; and yet, though desirous to be gone, she could not quit the Mansion House, or look an adieu to the Cottage, with its black, dripping and comfortless veranda, or even notice through the misty glasses the last humble tenements of the village, without a saddened heart. Scenes had passed in Uppercross which made it precious. It stood the record of many sensations of pain, once severe, but now softened; and of some instances of relenting feeling, some breathings of friendship and reconciliation, which could never be looked for again, and which could never cease to be dear. She left it all behind her, all but the recollection that such things had been.

Jane Austen is most known for her characters and dialog. But this little tidbit of atmospheric prose is just *chef’s kiss.* Also, this is a reminder that Anne expects to spend the next seven years in Bath -- a city she dislikes -- and has no reason to believe she’ll see the Harvilles or Captain Benwick again, except maybe at Captain Wentworth’s marriage to Louisa.

Lady Russell had only to listen composedly, and wish them happy, but internally her heart revelled in angry pleasure, in pleased contempt, that the man who at twenty-three had seemed to understand somewhat of the value of an Anne Elliot, should, eight years afterwards, be charmed by a Louisa Musgrove.

Lady Russell, Ma’am! Need I remind you that six years ago, you thought Charles Musgrove was good enough for Anne Elliot. But now his younger sister is not good enough for Captain Wentworth? You can’t have it both ways.

[The detail of the Crofts fixing the laundry door at Kellynch Hall]

So telling of character! That Sir Walter has spent all of his family fortune, but none of it on basic maintenance like fixing a faulty door.

Chapter 14:

“No,” admitted Charles, “I do not know that [Captain Benwick[ ever does, in a general way; but however, it is a very clear thing that he admires you exceedingly. His head is full of some books that he is reading upon your recommendation, and he wants to talk to you about them; he has found out something or other in one of them which he thinks—oh! I cannot pretend to remember it, but it was something very fine—I overheard him telling Henrietta all about it; and then ‘Miss Elliot’ was spoken of in the highest terms! Now Mary, I declare it was so, I heard it myself, and you were in the other room. ‘Elegance, sweetness, beauty.’ Oh! there was no end of Miss Elliot’s charms.”

“And I am sure,” cried Mary, warmly, “it was a very little to his credit, if he did. Miss Harville only died last June. Such a heart is very little worth having; is it, Lady Russell? I am sure you will agree with me.”

“I must see Captain Benwick before I decide,” said Lady Russell, smiling.

And here’s a bit more of what would later become a standard trope of the mystery novel format (without the murder-y bits) -- namely: a potential red herring. Anne, at least, is still convinced that Captain Wentworth has not forgiven her. But is it possible that another man is falling in love with her? How much you are convinced of that possibility depends a great deal on how much you trust Anne’s perception of the truth. Or do you see clues to a different truth that our protagonist is overlooking?

Immediately surrounding Mrs Musgrove were the little Harvilles, whom she was sedulously guarding from the tyranny of the two children from the Cottage, expressly arrived to amuse them. On one side was a table occupied by some chattering girls, cutting up silk and gold paper; and on the other were tressels and trays, bending under the weight of brawn and cold pies, where riotous boys were holding high revel; the whole completed by a roaring Christmas fire, which seemed determined to be heard, in spite of all the noise of the others. Charles and Mary also came in, of course, during their visit, and Mr Musgrove made a point of paying his respects to Lady Russell, and sat down close to her for ten minutes, talking with a very raised voice, but from the clamour of the children on his knees, generally in vain. It was a fine family-piece.

Now, this, I find fascinating, just from a cultural point of view. Here is a description of a family Christmas celebration that we modern folk would recognize. But just 30-ish years later, when Charles Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol (1843), the majority of that novel’s audience would have agreed with Scrooge that Christmas was a cultural relic that it was right and proper to forget. Of course, thanks to the Ghost of Christmas Past, we see that Christmas was celebrated in Ebenezer’s youth (which would have been around the same time that Persuasion is set), but it’s fascinating to see the confirmation of that through a contemporary description, rather than a dream-like memory.

Chapter 15:

Could Anne wonder that her father and sister were happy? She might not wonder, but she must sigh that her father should feel no degradation in his change, should see nothing to regret in the duties and dignity of the resident landholder, should find so much to be vain of in the littlenesses of a town;

Contrast this with Anne’s noticing an almost instant change in her own outlook with a change of society and scenery, when she was welcomed into the Musgrove household. Granted, when Anne moved into the Uppercross circles, she was mixing with people who have a different philosophy of life from her father and sister. And Sir Walter and Miss Elizabeth Elliot have moved to a neighborhood in Bath where everyone has the same obsessions with status that they do.

This is where I’ve seen reviewers on YouTube complain that the novel gets a bit boring. I suspect most of them have been reading this book with going in with the expectations of a modern “Romance Novel.” But that’s not what Jane Austen was writing -- even though it is, arguably, Austen’s most romantic surviving work* -- because she’s also examining a major social shift in her world’s order, between the old hierarchy of the aristocracy of birth and inherited titles, and the new hierarchy based on the merit of action (represented by the Baronetage Book on one side, and the Navy on the other).

So the full conflict of the novel isn’t just “Will Anne’s broken heart be mended?” but also: “Which of these two worlds will ultimately be her home?” We saw the new world have its influence on Anne in the first half. Now, it’s the old world’s turn to have a try. Therefore, it’s time for Captain Wentworth to leave the stage for a breather, and let another suitor step into the spotlight.

The circumstances of his marriage, too, were found to admit of much extenuation. This was an article not to be entered on by himself; but a very intimate friend of his, a Colonel Wallis, a highly respectable man, perfectly the gentleman, (and not an ill-looking man, Sir Walter added), who was living in very good style in Marlborough Buildings, and had, at his own particular request, been admitted to their acquaintance through Mr Elliot, had mentioned one or two things relative to the marriage, which made a material difference in the discredit of it.

Keep your eyes peeled for “Wallis;” he’s rather glossed over in the filmed adaptations (at least, the two versions I’ve watched all the way through), because we don’t ever hear him speak directly, but only through reports people give of conversations they’ve had with him (Such as Sir Walter and Elizabeth, here, telling Anne all about why they’ve forgiven Mr. Elliot). But over the course of this half of the novel, Austen hints that the two are working together at whatever scheme they have brewing.

*With Austen writing so feelingly about her protagonist’s feelings

#📖Persuasion📖 Read-Along #Chapter13 #Chapter 14 #Chapter 15

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can-i-write-well-yet · 2 years

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The Truth About Your Heart

P1/P2

a fanfic for 4KOTA that I was working on, no one requested this except me, and I realized if I want to read i'm gonna have to be the one to write it.

So here we go! It should have ever one of the sins and the Four Knights squads in it, but it will focus primarily on Ban and Lancelot's Family and the oc I added. It'll mostly be from the oc's perspective because I'm scared to write for characters perspectives that I didn't make, lmao.

I worked on this but am always open to take breaks to write other requests~ Let's'a go!

Chapter One.

It’s a beautiful day in Benwick, sun shining across the trees, the smell of fresh dew and wisteria flowers floats across a room, you could hear the chatter of the fairies outside the window, and the birds chirping faintly in the background, and on this beautiful morning one lad laying down in his bed could only think of one thing.

“God I hope someone kills me.” The young man said to himself hopefully.

A knock was heard at the door to his bedroom, the killer he wanted perhaps?

“Gus!! Mom said get up! We’re leaving for Uncle’s in five mimutes!!”

No such luck, just his sister sent to drag him out of bed. He supposed he should get up before his mother comes to get him up herself, she won’t stop at simple knocking and yelling and he’d rather not get tossed out of his bed again, the first time was enough.

He kicks off his covers before going to inspect his closet for anything he would feel comfortable wearing on this hellish field trip his mother was dragging him on, settling on a simple white button down shirt with peasant sleeves, putting a leather vest over the shirt, and a pair of black slacks. He was going to feel miserable in whatever he wore so why bother being extravagant?

He went through his washroom routine mindlessly, doing it by muscle memory rather than paying any attention to what he was doing, his mind was on other things, the visit to Lionas mostly.

He didn’t want to go, not that he hated Lionas, the kingdom was lovely and he didn’t mind the people there, it was simply what he was expected to do once he arrived. Greeting the King and Queen wasn’t an issue, in his family it wasn’t an exaggeration to say that he had the best manners out of all of them, his father treated everyone the same no matter who they were, his mother’s usual response to anyone was ignoring them or throwing off of cliffs, and his sister was seven.

No, the problem he faced was he would have to go to that castle, meet with all of his relatives and friends and he would have to look all those people in the eye and pretend everything was okay, knowing what he knew.

‘I can do that here,’ He thought to himself while brushing his teeth, ‘I can do that with Mum and Father and Beru, and I know I can do it with everyone else, but GOD it’s going to be fucking exhausting! I don’t wanna do this. Please let me fall down the stairs, Please let me fall down the stairs, Please let me fall down the stairs’

He was so engrossed in his mantra he didn’t notice his mother coming into his room.

“Gus?”

“AAAIIK!!!!” He screamed as he turned around and slipped on his bed clothes, almost slamming face first into the wall before he felt himself hovering.

“Thanks for the save Ma.”

“I’m Sorry!! I should’ve knocked first!” His mother released her wind magic and allowed her son to gently be set on the floor before helping him stand, checking for any injuries before looking him in the eye, “Sorry, I forget sometimes, I don’t know why, I swear I try.”

The young man shrugged, “It’s no big deal Ma, I space out a lot, chances are even if you did knock I wouldn't've heard it. I had some stuff on my mind.”

“You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m here no matter what.”

“I know Ma.”

“So what’s wrong, Babi?”

He could tell her, he could drop all his problems right here and now, he could rely on another person for one day.

He could tell all his problems and beg her to help, just this once. For once he could trust an adult to help with everything going on.

But he won’t, his mother didn’t deserve all this baggage he’s collected over the years, and he wouldn’t force her to hold him together, she’s held enough people together for a lifetime.

So he does what he’s done for the past nine years, and he lies.

“I’m just really tired Ma, and a little worried about how long the trip is gonna be, not to mention all the nobles we’re gonna have to deal with, I can hear them sucking up now. ‘OH YOUNG LORD HOW HANDSOME YOU ARE TONIGHT~ PRAY TELL, WHERE IST THOU PAPA SO I MAY BROWN NOSE???’”

His mother laughs at his joke, obviously relieved to think her son is just tired, both physically and of humans.

“Well you’ll be happy to know we’re going to take a portal over to the kingdom instead of traveling. Your Uncle is going to come pick us up, and I know sometimes the people can be tiring, so tell you what, how about I take over talking duties? I can talk to all the people there and you can go hang out with your cousins and friends?”

That… would actually help a lot now that he thinks about it, the less people he had to talk to, the less people he had to lie to, his mom did that a lot, help unintentionally.

She would give a solution for a problem he made up that actually ended up helping with the problem he was hiding, she was just magical like that he supposed.

“GUS!!! MUMMY!!! WE HAVTA GO NOW!!! UNCLE’S COMING SOON!!! HUR-RY-UP!!”

“WE’LL-BE-DONE-SOON!!!” The boy yelled back at his younger sister, she never did like waiting for anything so this talk was probably agonizingly slow for her. “You should probably go Ma, she needs to eat before we leave and I’ve gotta get my hair brushed and find my satchel before we head out.”

“Okay Babi, I’ll grab you something to eat on the way, don’t forget your sketchbook, your uncle has been asking to see your drawings and I’m not explaining why he must wait, COMING RU-RU!!!” She yelled down to her daughter before turning back and giving him a small kiss on his forehead, “Love you babi.”

“Love you Ma.” He watched his mother leave down the stairs before closing the door.

He walked to his bed and reached under it to grab a box full of his sketchbooks and placed two of them in a small satchel. He then grabbed his brush and started to comb through his pale lavender hair.

After tying it into a low hanging ponytail, he made sure his door was locked and his shades were drawn before walking over to the picture his younger sister had drawn for him, it was of him, her, and their older brother.

He had told her he liked the drawing so much that he wanted to keep it in his room so could look at it all the time. A part of this was true, he did like the drawing, it was well done for a 5 year old, but everything after that was a lie. He didn’t want that thing anywhere near his room and to be perfectly honest, he would be alright never seeing it ever again.

It wasn’t because of anything his sister did, no he always loved her drawings, and honestly it was his own fault, they way the picture turned out. After all, he was the one who wondered out loud whether or not she knew what their brother looked like. She did, and then she felt bad for leaving him out of all her other pictures, so she drew all three of them together.

And now he had it in his room, where he would see it, day in and day out. He had to keep it in his room, there was nowhere else for it to go. If she had kept it in her room then their parents would’ve seen it, and then they would make that face they always did when they were reminded of their eldest son.

And Beru wouldn’t understand, and she would wonder if it was her fault, and then he could only hope it was his mother who found the painting, and not his father, because both of them would do a terrible job of comforting the young girl, but at least his mom would be gentle about it.

So to avoid that, he kept it in his room, his mom would still see it and she would cry, but he could be there for her and hold her together so Beru wouldn’t get upset. (Sometimes his mother would lie on his bed next to him and hold him close while she looked at the picture, crying silently for a couple minutes before getting up and making them both something to eat, she was always happier after crying for a bit.)

Beru would see her drawing in his room and be happy that he liked it, and be none the wiser to how her family really felt. (Sometimes Beru would sneak into his bed in the middle of the night, and ask about her oldest brother, she knew neither of her brothers had met but she knew her older brother knew more than she did, she just wanted to feel close to all her family, even the ones she hadn’t met. So he would tell her stories he had heard about him, and when he ran out of stories he would make some up until she fell asleep and he would carry her back to bed.)

And his father, who hasn’t entered his room in years, would never see the painting, and would never get his hands on it. (The boy remembered someone talking about his older brother with his father. He didn’t hear the whole conversation from his hiding place on the top of the stairs, but he somehow knew what they were discussing. He remembers seeing a small jacket being handed to his father, him caressing it gently before yelling at the person he was speaking to and starting to stomp his way upstairs. The boy remembers hiding under a table in the hallway and watching his father storm into his older brother's room, placing the shirt in the small closet before storming back down into the front room. The room remained untouched to this day. Anything that belonged or was related to the eldest son went into that room, and never came out again.)

So this small thing, this placement of a child's painting, was actually used to hold their family together.

Well for that and one other thing.

He raised his fist above his head and slammed it down two inches to the left of the painting and down into his waiting hand fell a worn out, Prussian blue journal.

He rifled through the pages before stopping on a page where the writer was talking about his uncle stopping by.

The writer of this journal would only ever write about his day in one page, and he always wrote on the left page, and only the left page.

Gus was fond of that, because he would then write on the right page, as if responding to the author of the journal.

‘Dear Whom-Ever reads this.

(NOT DAD! THIS IS MY JORNAL!)

Today Uncle came over to visit he brought over my cosin Deidrick to play with me but Dei never plays right. Okay he plays right i guess but he doesn’t wanna fight. He just plays meedator and how we shood talk out feelings out instead of punching.

Uncle also brought my new cosins MAttie and ElliE they are cute i guess MAttie likes punching but Auntie said she was too young to play swords and i have to wait til shes older.

But dad fought with me! he always wresssals with me! So he’s teaching Dei how to fight better two!

Anyway sense I have to go now im leaving this journal entry here until tomorrow.

Good bye!’

Gus smiles at the childish writing, barely decipherable but quite adorable. He had found this book wrapped in cloth and buried under an old piece of driftwood, he wouldn’t’ve found it if not for a faint glow of sunlight that had happened to have hit it just right, having piqued his curiosity and prompting him to look beneath. He likes to think it was fate that led him to it, but he was okay with it just being luck.

‘Smarter to be Lucky than Lucky to be Smart.’ He thought as he picked up his pen before writing down his reply.

‘Dear Older Brother.

I am also meeting our Uncle today, he’s coming over to bring us all to Lionas for a meeting with the king, probably for a party. And he’s bringing all of our cousins here as well.

You’ll be happy to know Deidrick now knows how to fight much better, though he still enjoys playing mediator.

Mattie can throw real punches now, and she can use swords as well, she prefers just fighting with bare knuckles.

Ellie enjoys puzzles more than anything, but never says no to a good fight.

I may have mentioned in a previous entry, but we have a new cousin now as well, his name is Brahms.

He recently turned 7 and is growing well, he gets sick a lot but he’s very brave, you would have liked him.

Father and Mother are excited to see all of their old friends, I’m worried about them so it will be good to get out of Benwick, they’ve been cooped up for too long.

I’m all ready to go, just making sure I update you before I go…

They all still miss you, please come home soon.

I would like to meet you, even though I know you hate me, I don’t care, they need you Lancelot. Please hurry up with your dumb mission or adventure that you think is more important then our fami-’

He stops before completing that sentence, he knows it might be a bit too far, he doesn’t know what’s kept Lance away for so long, and Gus knows he’s coming home soon. But sometimes you just can’t help feeling.

He is still writing in someone else’s journal so he makes an effort to be polite.

‘I don’t mean to be mean, I just know you’re out there and I don’t know why you didn’t come bac-’

“UNCLE KING!!!” He heard his sister call from downstairs.

He took a peek outside his window and saw his Uncle Harlequin exchanging greetings with his sister, and his Aunt Diane chatting with his father. He should wrap this up before heading down.

‘I am leaving now for Lionas. I will try to grab more funds while I’m there, don’t worry, I won't break my promises, even if the only one who knows I made one is me.

I wish to meet you one day, on good terms, after everything is said and done.

Despite what you may think of me, I love you Lancelot.

Love, Your Brother, Gustav.’

“GOOSE!!!” He heard rapid knocking on his door, and the voice of his oldest cousin, Deidrick.

And as he stepped on top of his dresser to place the book back into the rafters he gently caressed the name on the journal.

‘Lancelot’

He put the book back into the rafters and stepped down to grab his satchel off the bed and unlocked his door to be met with a tight hug from his cousin.

‘From your dad to you, may you write down your heart into this book,

I love you my son.’

“BROTHER! I’ve missed you man!” Deidrick exclaimed, picking his younger cousin off the floor and spinning around the room.

“Yeah, missed you too Dei-Dei.” Hugging his cousin and tapping him gently on the back, he asked, “So was it your idea for Uncle King to take us there with the portal?”

“How’d you know?” Dei asked, amazed.

Gustav pushed back to look his cousin to look at him flatly, “Your the only one who has any issues with the ride there,”

“It’s not my fault y’all can’t fly, why do I have to slow down and wait every time?!”

“And in a letter you sent a while back you told me how your dad said he’d do you a favor if you watched your siblings for a night, and you never told me what you used it for, so I guessed you were saving it for something like this…”

“... Damn little brother. You should be a detective with skills like that.”

“It’s not ‘Skills’,” Gustav rolled his eyes while walking down the stairs to the rest of their party, “You’re just incredibly basic.”

Dedrick held his hand to his heart as he floated down next to Gustav, “LE GASP! How could you be so crew-el?”

“Very easily,” Gustav managed to say before his younger sister slammed into his chest, knocking the wind out his lungs and nearly sending both of them onto the floor if Dei hadn’t caught the both of them.

“BERU! Be gentle on your brother!” Ban chastised from the doorway where he was greeting King.

“Sorey Da!” Beru said offhandedly before turning her head back to her older brother, her crimson eyes glimmering with excitement as her dandelion colored hair bounced up and down, “GUS! Are you so excited!!??”

Gustav, now breathing again, and having picked up his energetic younger sister, replied, ”So excited for what? The trip? I suppos-”

Cutting him off and grabbing his face, “No Silly! We’re being a fish-... Oh fizz, no. Um, a-afisha-. What was the word Uncle Harlequin?”

“Officially.” King replied, smiling at the siblings from where he stood next to Elaine.

“Offishally! We are Offishally invited to a meeting of the Seven Deadly Sins!”

Gustav’s eyes widened before turning to look at his father, “Father, is this true? I thought we- I thought I wasn’t- We weren’t-”

Ban held his hands up in a shushing movement, stopping the train of thoughts tumbling through his son's mind, “It’s not that big a deal, slow your roll kid. We just got a summons from the Captain, which could mean anything from ‘The demon king has returned and Lionas is up in flames’ to ‘We ran out of Vanya Ale so I'm calling a Seven Deadly Booze-Run cause I’m bored out of my mind’. We’ll figure it out when we get there. But considering he signed it with a picture of a smiling bird, I’d say he didn’t think it was anything serious, and while grown up meetings are still off the table, this should be boring enough to take the kids to.”

“Oh, uh, okay, we will be part of the discussion or...?”

“Yeah if ya’ want, Cappy called for everyone and their kids, so we’re bringing everyone and their kids.” Ban muttered something under his breath too quietly for Gus to hear, but it sounded annoyed, “Anyway, you munchkins all ready to head out? Got’cher grab bags and toys and shit?”

“All our toys and shit are packed and ready Father.” Gustav and Beru both gave a salute before walking out to the rest of their cousins, and giving their greeting to their Aunt Diane, who was currently too big to come in the house.

Elaine glared at Ban for cursing in front of the kids, Ban smiled back unapologetically and held open the door for her to join their children.

He then turned to King with a look of pure fury on his face and questioned,

“So. Care to tell me why the Fuck my kids got a summon from the Dragon Sin of Wrath?”

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publicdomainbooks · 2 years

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CHAPTER XX.

Sir Walter, his two daughters, and Mrs Clay, were the earliest of all their party at the rooms in the evening; and as Lady Dalrymple must be waited for, they took their station by one of the fires in the Octagon Room. But hardly were they so settled, when the door opened again, and Captain Wentworth walked in alone. Anne was the nearest to him, and making yet a little advance, she instantly spoke. He was preparing only to bow and pass on, but her gentle “How do you do?” brought him out of the straight line to stand near her, and make enquiries in return, in spite of the formidable father and sister in the back ground. Their being in the back ground was a support to Anne; she knew nothing of their looks, and felt equal to everything which she believed right to be done.

While they were speaking, a whispering between her father and Elizabeth caught her ear. She could not distinguish, but she must guess the subject; and on Captain Wentworth’s making a distant bow, she comprehended that her father had judged so well as to give him that simple acknowledgement of acquaintance, and she was just in time by a side glance to see a slight curtsey from Elizabeth herself. This, though late, and reluctant, and ungracious, was yet better than nothing, and her spirits improved.

After talking, however, of the weather, and Bath, and the concert, their conversation began to flag, and so little was said at last, that she was expecting him to go every moment, but he did not; he seemed in no hurry to leave her; and presently with renewed spirit, with a little smile, a little glow, he said—

“I have hardly seen you since our day at Lyme. I am afraid you must have suffered from the shock, and the more from its not overpowering you at the time.”

She assured him that she had not.

“It was a frightful hour,” said he, “a frightful day!” and he passed his hand across his eyes, as if the remembrance were still too painful, but in a moment, half smiling again, added, “The day has produced some effects however; has had some consequences which must be considered as the very reverse of frightful. When you had the presence of mind to suggest that Benwick would be the properest person to fetch a surgeon, you could have little idea of his being eventually one of those most concerned in her recovery.”

“Certainly I could have none. But it appears—I should hope it would be a very happy match. There are on both sides good principles and good temper.”

“Yes,” said he, looking not exactly forward; “but there, I think, ends the resemblance. With all my soul I wish them happy, and rejoice over every circumstance in favour of it. They have no difficulties to contend with at home, no opposition, no caprice, no delays. The Musgroves are behaving like themselves, most honourably and kindly, only anxious with true parental hearts to promote their daughter’s comfort. All this is much, very much in favour of their happiness; more than perhaps—”

Either from the consciousness, however, that his friend had recovered, or from other consciousness, he went no farther; and Anne who, in spite of the agitated voice in which the latter part had been uttered, and in spite of all the various noises of the room, the almost ceaseless slam of the door, and ceaseless buzz of persons walking through, had distinguished every word, was struck, gratified, confused, and beginning to breathe very quick, and feel an hundred things in a moment. It was impossible for her to enter on such a subject; and yet, after a pause, feeling the necessity of speaking, and having not the smallest wish for a total change, she only deviated so far as to say—

“You were a good while at Lyme, I think?”

“About a fortnight. I could not leave it till Louisa’s doing well was quite ascertained. I had been too deeply concerned in the mischief to be soon at peace. It had been my doing, solely mine. She would not have been obstinate if I had not been weak. The country round Lyme is very fine. I walked and rode a great deal; and the more I saw, the more I found to admire.”

“I should very much like to see Lyme again,” said Anne.

“Indeed! I should not have supposed that you could have found anything in Lyme to inspire such a feeling. The horror and distress you were involved in, the stretch of mind, the wear of spirits! I should have thought your last impressions of Lyme must have been strong disgust.”

“The last hours were certainly very painful,” replied Anne; “but when pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure. One does not love a place the less for having suffered in it, unless it has been all suffering, nothing but suffering, which was by no means the case at Lyme. We were only in anxiety and distress during the last two hours, and previously there had been a great deal of enjoyment. So much novelty and beauty! I have travelled so little, that every fresh place would be interesting to me; but there is real beauty at Lyme; and in short” (with a faint blush at some recollections), “altogether my impressions of the place are very agreeable.”

As she ceased, the entrance door opened again, and the very party appeared for whom they were waiting. “Lady Dalrymple, Lady Dalrymple,” was the rejoicing sound; and with all the eagerness compatible with anxious elegance, Sir Walter and his two ladies stepped forward to meet her. Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret, escorted by Mr Elliot and Colonel Wallis, who had happened to arrive nearly at the same instant, advanced into the room. The others joined them, and it was a group in which Anne found herself also necessarily included. She was divided from Captain Wentworth. Their interesting, almost too interesting conversation must be broken up for a time, but slight was the penance compared with the happiness which brought it on! She had learnt, in the last ten minutes, more of his feelings towards Louisa, more of all his feelings than she dared to think of; and she gave herself up to the demands of the party, to the needful civilities of the moment, with exquisite, though agitated sensations. She was in good humour with all. She had received ideas which disposed her to be courteous and kind to all, and to pity every one, as being less happy than herself.

The delightful emotions were a little subdued, when on stepping back from the group, to be joined again by Captain Wentworth, she saw that he was gone. She was just in time to see him turn into the Concert Room. He was gone; he had disappeared, she felt a moment’s regret. But “they should meet again. He would look for her, he would find her out before the evening were over, and at present, perhaps, it was as well to be asunder. She was in need of a little interval for recollection.”

Upon Lady Russell’s appearance soon afterwards, the whole party was collected, and all that remained was to marshal themselves, and proceed into the Concert Room; and be of all the consequence in their power, draw as many eyes, excite as many whispers, and disturb as many people as they could.

Very, very happy were both Elizabeth and Anne Elliot as they walked in. Elizabeth arm in arm with Miss Carteret, and looking on the broad back of the dowager Viscountess Dalrymple before her, had nothing to wish for which did not seem within her reach; and Anne—but it would be an insult to the nature of Anne’s felicity, to draw any comparison between it and her sister’s; the origin of one all selfish vanity, of the other all generous attachment.

Anne saw nothing, thought nothing of the brilliancy of the room. Her happiness was from within. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks glowed; but she knew nothing about it. She was thinking only of the last half hour, and as they passed to their seats, her mind took a hasty range over it. His choice of subjects, his expressions, and still more his manner and look, had been such as she could see in only one light. His opinion of Louisa Musgrove’s inferiority, an opinion which he had seemed solicitous to give, his wonder at Captain Benwick, his feelings as to a first, strong attachment; sentences begun which he could not finish, his half averted eyes and more than half expressive glance, all, all declared that he had a heart returning to her at least; that anger, resentment, avoidance, were no more; and that they were succeeded, not merely by friendship and regard, but by the tenderness of the past. Yes, some share of the tenderness of the past. She could not contemplate the change as implying less. He must love her.

These were thoughts, with their attendant visions, which occupied and flurried her too much to leave her any power of observation; and she passed along the room without having a glimpse of him, without even trying to discern him. When their places were determined on, and they were all properly arranged, she looked round to see if he should happen to be in the same part of the room, but he was not; her eye could not reach him; and the concert being just opening, she must consent for a time to be happy in a humbler way.

The party was divided and disposed of on two contiguous benches: Anne was among those on the foremost, and Mr Elliot had manœuvred so well, with the assistance of his friend Colonel Wallis, as to have a seat by her. Miss Elliot, surrounded by her cousins, and the principal object of Colonel Wallis’s gallantry, was quite contented.

Anne’s mind was in a most favourable state for the entertainment of the evening; it was just occupation enough: she had feelings for the tender, spirits for the gay, attention for the scientific, and patience for the wearisome; and had never liked a concert better, at least during the first act. Towards the close of it, in the interval succeeding an Italian song, she explained the words of the song to Mr Elliot. They had a concert bill between them.

“This,” said she, “is nearly the sense, or rather the meaning of the words, for certainly the sense of an Italian love-song must not be talked of, but it is as nearly the meaning as I can give; for I do not pretend to understand the language. I am a very poor Italian scholar.”

“Yes, yes, I see you are. I see you know nothing of the matter. You have only knowledge enough of the language to translate at sight these inverted, transposed, curtailed Italian lines, into clear, comprehensible, elegant English. You need not say anything more of your ignorance. Here is complete proof.”

“I will not oppose such kind politeness; but I should be sorry to be examined by a real proficient.”

“I have not had the pleasure of visiting in Camden Place so long,” replied he, “without knowing something of Miss Anne Elliot; and I do regard her as one who is too modest for the world in general to be aware of half her accomplishments, and too highly accomplished for modesty to be natural in any other woman.”

“For shame! for shame! this is too much flattery. I forget what we are to have next,” turning to the bill.

“Perhaps,” said Mr Elliot, speaking low, “I have had a longer acquaintance with your character than you are aware of.”

“Indeed! How so? You can have been acquainted with it only since I came to Bath, excepting as you might hear me previously spoken of in my own family.”

“I knew you by report long before you came to Bath. I had heard you described by those who knew you intimately. I have been acquainted with you by character many years. Your person, your disposition, accomplishments, manner; they were all present to me.”

Mr Elliot was not disappointed in the interest he hoped to raise. No one can withstand the charm of such a mystery. To have been described long ago to a recent acquaintance, by nameless people, is irresistible; and Anne was all curiosity. She wondered, and questioned him eagerly; but in vain. He delighted in being asked, but he would not tell.

“No, no, some time or other, perhaps, but not now. He would mention no names now; but such, he could assure her, had been the fact. He had many years ago received such a description of Miss Anne Elliot as had inspired him with the highest idea of her merit, and excited the warmest curiosity to know her.”

Anne could think of no one so likely to have spoken with partiality of her many years ago as the Mr Wentworth of Monkford, Captain Wentworth’s brother. He might have been in Mr Elliot’s company, but she had not courage to ask the question.

“The name of Anne Elliot,” said he, “has long had an interesting sound to me. Very long has it possessed a charm over my fancy; and, if I dared, I would breathe my wishes that the name might never change.”

Such, she believed, were his words; but scarcely had she received their sound, than her attention was caught by other sounds immediately behind her, which rendered every thing else trivial. Her father and Lady Dalrymple were speaking.

“A well-looking man,” said Sir Walter, “a very well-looking man.”

“A very fine young man indeed!” said Lady Dalrymple. “More air than one often sees in Bath. Irish, I dare say.”

“No, I just know his name. A bowing acquaintance. Wentworth; Captain Wentworth of the navy. His sister married my tenant in Somersetshire, the Croft, who rents Kellynch.”

Before Sir Walter had reached this point, Anne’s eyes had caught the right direction, and distinguished Captain Wentworth standing among a cluster of men at a little distance. As her eyes fell on him, his seemed to be withdrawn from her. It had that appearance. It seemed as if she had been one moment too late; and as long as she dared observe, he did not look again: but the performance was recommencing, and she was forced to seem to restore her attention to the orchestra and look straight forward.

When she could give another glance, he had moved away. He could not have come nearer to her if he would; she was so surrounded and shut in: but she would rather have caught his eye.

Mr Elliot’s speech, too, distressed her. She had no longer any inclination to talk to him. She wished him not so near her.

The first act was over. Now she hoped for some beneficial change; and, after a period of nothing-saying amongst the party, some of them did decide on going in quest of tea. Anne was one of the few who did not choose to move. She remained in her seat, and so did Lady Russell; but she had the pleasure of getting rid of Mr Elliot; and she did not mean, whatever she might feel on Lady Russell’s account, to shrink from conversation with Captain Wentworth, if he gave her the opportunity. She was persuaded by Lady Russell’s countenance that she had seen him.

He did not come however. Anne sometimes fancied she discerned him at a distance, but he never came. The anxious interval wore away unproductively. The others returned, the room filled again, benches were reclaimed and repossessed, and another hour of pleasure or of penance was to be sat out, another hour of music was to give delight or the gapes, as real or affected taste for it prevailed. To Anne, it chiefly wore the prospect of an hour of agitation. She could not quit that room in peace without seeing Captain Wentworth once more, without the interchange of one friendly look.

In re-settling themselves there were now many changes, the result of which was favourable for her. Colonel Wallis declined sitting down again, and Mr Elliot was invited by Elizabeth and Miss Carteret, in a manner not to be refused, to sit between them; and by some other removals, and a little scheming of her own, Anne was enabled to place herself much nearer the end of the bench than she had been before, much more within reach of a passer-by. She could not do so, without comparing herself with Miss Larolles, the inimitable Miss Larolles; but still she did it, and not with much happier effect; though by what seemed prosperity in the shape of an early abdication in her next neighbours, she found herself at the very end of the bench before the concert closed.

Such was her situation, with a vacant space at hand, when Captain Wentworth was again in sight. She saw him not far off. He saw her too; yet he looked grave, and seemed irresolute, and only by very slow degrees came at last near enough to speak to her. She felt that something must be the matter. The change was indubitable. The difference between his present air and what it had been in the Octagon Room was strikingly great. Why was it? She thought of her father, of Lady Russell. Could there have been any unpleasant glances? He began by speaking of the concert gravely, more like the Captain Wentworth of Uppercross; owned himself disappointed, had expected singing; and in short, must confess that he should not be sorry when it was over. Anne replied, and spoke in defence of the performance so well, and yet in allowance for his feelings so pleasantly, that his countenance improved, and he replied again with almost a smile. They talked for a few minutes more; the improvement held; he even looked down towards the bench, as if he saw a place on it well worth occupying; when at that moment a touch on her shoulder obliged Anne to turn round. It came from Mr Elliot. He begged her pardon, but she must be applied to, to explain Italian again. Miss Carteret was very anxious to have a general idea of what was next to be sung. Anne could not refuse; but never had she sacrificed to politeness with a more suffering spirit.

A few minutes, though as few as possible, were inevitably consumed; and when her own mistress again, when able to turn and look as she had done before, she found herself accosted by Captain Wentworth, in a reserved yet hurried sort of farewell. “He must wish her good night; he was going; he should get home as fast as he could.”

“Is not this song worth staying for?” said Anne, suddenly struck by an idea which made her yet more anxious to be encouraging.

“No!” he replied impressively, “there is nothing worth my staying for;” and he was gone directly.

Jealousy of Mr Elliot! It was the only intelligible motive. Captain Wentworth jealous of her affection! Could she have believed it a week ago; three hours ago! For a moment the gratification was exquisite. But, alas! there were very different thoughts to succeed. How was such jealousy to be quieted? How was the truth to reach him? How, in all the peculiar disadvantages of their respective situations, would he ever learn of her real sentiments? It was misery to think of Mr Elliot’s attentions. Their evil was incalculable.

#persuasion

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strawwritesfic · 2 years

Text

Harry Potter x Female!Reader: I’ll Keep the Lights on

Summary: And so peace did come, of a certain kind.

Rating/Warnings/Tags: All (fluff; post-Deathly Hollows; auror!Harry; Ron/Hermione; not canon compliant post-Deathly Hollows)

Winner March 2019: LINDSAY/grantgustin

Requirements: Harry PotterxReader; post-war; fluff

Notes: I know now that Harry, Ron, and Hermione did not actually go back to Hogwarts again, but I did not know that at the time of writing this.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

I’ll Keep the Lights On

Being a fully-qualified witch did not prevent the feeling of anxiety that swept over you as you stepped inside the empty Ministry of Magic building late one summer night. Several years had passed since last you’d had a reason to go there after everyone else went home. Not much had changed. They’d replaced the horrible statue in the Atrium since Voldemort’s downfall with a memorial for all the muggle-borns that died (or worse) during his reign, but that was about it.

The halls remained eerie and vacant and dark. Your footsteps echoed loudly as you crossed the room to the motionless lifts waiting for the coming morning. Louder still was the racket yours made when you selected your destination. That night you were not going down to Level Nine, but instead making a trip to Basement Level Two. You’d have thought that all the noise would attract every Ministry official left in the place, but no one waited for you when you got off the lift a few minutes later.

Maybe everyone else was gone. Had you come all that way for nothing after all? As you made your slow way toward Auror Headquarters, however, soft voices issued from the open door. You peeked inside to see a meeting in full swing. At least a dozen heads were turned in the direction of the current Head of Department, Gawain Benwick, but not a single one of those heads belonged to the man you were there for.

If you had missed him, you would stun yourself. Too much effort had gone into your visit for you to fail! Just as you began to lose hope, Gawain caught your eye. He did not stop in the midst of his lecture, but motioned with his head toward the back offices. You shot him a grateful smile and hurried off before any of the others could spot who he was communicating with.

Their voices faded as you walked away. The meeting must have been going on for quite some time, because the hallway you followed was lit only dimly. Enough time had passed since your last visit that you weren’t entirely sure where you were going. You squinted at the nameplates beside each door. In the end, they were unnecessary. There was only one door left ajar, and it was through that opening what little light there was spilled…along with a stream of snores.

Harry Potter sat at his desk with his head stop his crossed arms. His eyes were closed, and a small amount of drool trickled from one corner of his mouth onto his elbow. You giggled. Even then, he looked better than he had in years: still tired, obviously, but more at peace. The Harry you’d known at Hogwarts never would have fallen asleep in the middle of work like that. He would not have felt he could.

Cute as he was sleeping, you were not about to leave him be. You crept over to him, then gave his shoulder a firm shake. He launched up so quickly that his head nearly collided with your chin—not that he noticed.

“I’m awake! You don’t have to—[Name]?” He blinked at you through crooked glasses. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you supper,” you answered.

Though he looked as though he wanted to question you further, he didn’t get the chance before his stomach growled. Harry shot you a sheepish smile as he rose from his desk. “You’re a life saver. Come on. Let’s go to the Atrium. I don’t want anyone to interrupt.”

Only a few minutes later, you were where you had started. While Harry conjured up a picnic blanket, you pulled your cooking out of the magicked bag you carried with you. You both sat down to eat in front of the memorial in silence.

All that way, and you couldn’t think of a single thing to say to him. Had it really been so long that you didn’t know how to relate to your own boyfriend anymore? But once he had swallowed several forkfuls of potatoes, he broke the silence:

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You swallowed some shepherd’s pie. “Oh. You know. I haven’t seen you much lately.”

“I’ve been busy.”

That was true. Harry might have defeated Voldemort, but that hadn’t put an end to all crime in the Wizarding World. He’d been offered an immediate job as an auror right after you all finished going back to school. He’d been busy ever since. Most mornings he was gone before you got up to head to work at the Apothecary, and that was when he came home to sleep at all.

“I thought we’d see more of each other when you moved in, not less,” you teased, then hastened to add, “I’m not mad. I just miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“Me? Or my food?”

“Why not both?”

“As long as it’s not just the food. It would break my heart if you only chose me over Ron for your stomach.”

“I can assure you, your cooking is not the only advantage you have over Ron.”

“So, just to be clear—”

“No. I’m not planning to run back off to his flat while you’re at work.”

“Good to know. I don’t think Hermione would much appreciate that either.”

Harry shuddered. “No, she wouldn’t. She’s already got her hands full with work and planning the wedding.”

“Which would a lot easier if her husband-to-be spent any time at home himself.”

“Ron is going home.”

“Harry. I saw him at that late-night auror pow-wow.”

“Okay, okay.” He lifted his hands as though to stave off your argument. “Maybe he’s a little intimidated by how intense she’s got, even for Hermione.”

“Is she really that into the wedding?” you asked.

That didn’t sound like her at all. Admittedly, you didn’t know her as well as Harry did, but you’d grown closer during that eighth year at Hogwarts, and you’d always thought of her as avoiding things as frivolous as weddings.

“No, but she got promoted—”

“What, again?”

“That’s our Hermione,” Harry said, reaching for the container of treacle tart.

“Why doesn’t she just put the wedding off until things calm down?”

“When is she going to stop getting promoted? Besides, Ron’s mum has her heart set on June. Arthur already took the time off, and Charlie’s coming in.”

“Right.”

Finished with your own meal, you watched Harry gulp down the last of his dessert. You’d seen him with your own eyes, ascertained he was all right. Keeping him any longer wouldn’t be right. He wouldn’t be at the Ministry so late if there weren’t important matters to attend to. Sighing, you waved your wand and started packing up the dirty plates.

“You know that none of this is going to happen when we get married, right?” Harry said.

Every little thing that had been floating toward your bag fell to the floor with a resounding crash in the emptiness. Treacle tart splattered Harry’s face; the dregs of tea splashed onto your robes. You didn’t bat an eye, busy as you were gaping at him.

“[Name]? What’s the matter?”

“You want to get married?” you blurted without thinking.

“Well…yeah. Why? Don’t you?”

To be frank, you hadn’t really thought about it. Harry had only moved in with you a couple months ago. You supposed, if you really put your mind to it, you’d been dating him long enough, but all the same…

“I dunno. Aren’t we just a bit young?”

“Ron and Hermione are the same age.”

“Yes, but,” your face burned, “I mean—they’ve been mad about each other for years.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “And we haven’t?”

“Yes! But—oh! It’s a little soon.”

“We’ve been dating for two years.”

“And we just got out of school!”

“An extra year that we didn’t really have to take. Besides, my parents married young, too.”

“They were in the middle of a war.”

“So were we.” Harry waved his wand, said the cleaning spell, and removed some of the mess. “[Name], do you not want to marry me?”

You took a deep breath and stared at him: handsome, courageous, loving Harry, who above all wanted peace for the rest of his days. How you fit into all of that, you weren’t sure. He seemed to be, though, for his return gaze was so steady that you had to look away.

“Of course I want to marry you,” you said softly. “I just never really considered it before.”

“Well, I have. A lot.” Stepping over the ruined blanket, he stood in front of you.

You lifted your chin to see his face above yours in the dark.

“You have?” you whispered.

“Yeah. But if you’d rather I ask some other time…”

A slightly nervous laugh slipped out of your mouth. “Oh, this is your actual proposal?”

“Um.” With that, he was back to his usual self. “Yes. Was there something wrong with it?”

Instead of answering, you pulled him in for a long, slow kiss. Your fingers threaded through his messy hair. Before he could really get into it, though, you pulled away with an enormous soppy grin on your face.

“It was perfect. Yes, I will marry you.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. You really had me worried.“

“Sorry. I was caught off-guard. I—”

A memo soared out of the dark. The bright orchid paper streaked right for Harry’s head, but could not touch him before he snatched it out of the air. You waited patiently for him to finish reading it, but had a pretty good idea of what it said. Sure enough, he looked up with a grimace a few seconds later.

“Benwick says I’ve got to come back. He’s sending Ron and I out on assignment.”

“An auror’s work is never done. Go on. I’ll clean up here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Cleaning spells aren’t really your forte,” you said with a pointed look at the tart still smeared on his forehead.

He picked up a napkin to wipe it away before he shot you a final smile. “All right. Goodnight, [Name]. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

He pecked you on the lips, then stepped toward the lifts. Meanwhile, you turned your attention to the disaster in front of you. You raised your wand a second time, just as you heard the lift clattering back down to meet him.

“Harry,” you called over your shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“You better come home to help me plan this wedding. I am not pulling a Hermione and doing it myself.”

He laughed. “As soon as I get back tonight, I’ll request some time off. I promise.”

“I’ll keep the lights on for you.”

Then Harry was gone and you found yourself alone again in the vast, empty Atrium. Wrapping up the cleaning didn’t take much time. You headed for the exit not long after your boyfriend—fiancé, you corrected yourself—left, but that time you didn’t move quite so quickly. For the first time, the Ministry of Magic did not seem so threatening. Neither did your flat seem so empty. In fact, you were quite eager to get home knowing that Harry, too, would be on his way there just as soon as he could. Maybe he couldn’t be home all the time, but even in his absence you felt there really was a happily ever after after all.

#fan fic #straw writes #reader insert #second person pov #harry potter #request #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n

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