#chapter: german folk practices

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 4) Chapter Sixteen

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Sixteen: One Hell of a Wood

Summary: The Phantomhive lord and servants venture into Germany and a strange wood.

            “I…am…plea-pleased to-to…meet you…”

            (Y/N) lifted a gloved hand to smother a chuckle at Ciel’s terrible German.

            “That will never do,” said Sebastian. “You are stressing the wrong syllables.”

            Ciel groaned and flopped over on his train. “I give up. Reading on the train makes me sick.”

            “You simply lack discipline,” sighed Sebastian.

            “German pronunciation is impossible,” huffed Ciel. “Being able to read it is enough.”

            “You won’t get far with that attitude,” remarked (Y/N).

            Ciel scowled.

l

            On the outskirts of Nuremberg, Ciel, (Y/N), and Sebastian attempted to buy passage to the Werewolves’ Forest. Unfortunately, two obstacles stood in their way. First, the strong dialect prevented Ciel was understanding a thing. Second, no one wanted to go near the cursed land.

            “Sebastian, what language are they speaking?” said Ciel, looking around at the people.

            “East Franconian. It is a southern German dialect,” said Sebastian.

            “The dialect is too strong! My studies were practically useless!” cried Ciel.

            “The fundamentals are important,” said (Y/N), smirking.

            Ciel grumbled. “What is he saying?”

            (Y/N) listened to the cart driver. “He is saying, ‘I ain’t gonna go bite it from the Witch’s Curse. No thanks. Dun matter how much you got. No’s a no.’ ”

            An irk mark appeared on Ciel’s forehead as (Y/N) mimicked the accent. “Has he seen an accursed human?”

            “Have you seen one of these cursed humans?” asked Sebastian.

            “I sure did!” said the driver. “They looked somethin’ awful. Their faces were swollen to twice their normal size. And their skin looked like it’d melted into a thick mud. One died right off. The other lived, but word has it he went nuts from the shock.”

            “The other survived?” said (Y/N).

            “Ja,” was the answer. “He was all shook up with fear and kept screamin’, ‘The Wolfman’s Coming!’ ”

            “So where is he now?” inquired Sebastian.

            “He’s the eldest son of the Briegel family, rich folk who live on the outskirts of this village, but he’s gone now. The government came ‘n took him away to some big hospital in case whatever he had caught could spread, and they took the dead ‘un, too.”

            “So?” said Ciel.

            “There was a survivor,” said (Y/N). “But he continued to claim a wolfman was coming, and the government ultimately took him away.” Likely, the survivor was dead by now.

            “So he’s seen the wolfman?” said Ciel, narrowing his eyes.

            “Would you like to attempt to find him?” said Sebastian. He exchanged a look with (Y/N). He, too, suspected that if the government took him and was refusing to share information that he was dead.

            “No need. There isn’t any point in speaking to a madman,” said Ciel. “We should go at once to this Werewolves’ Forest ourselves.”

            “However, the man refuses to take us in his carriage no matter how much we offer,” said Sebastian.

            Ciel smirked. “Then ask him how much the carriage costs.”

l

            “S-So this is the Werewolves’ Forest.” Mey-Rin shivered. “It’s creepy.”

            “Man, I get why people say it’s cursed,” said Baldroy, looking around at the dark trees and mist clinging to the branches. It blocked out the sun, bathing them in shadows.

            At the front of the cart, (Y/N) raised a brow. “The compass is beginning to drift.”

            Ciel tsked. “It may just be that mineral resources are buried around here.”

            Sebastian smirked. “It may just as easily be a cursed.”

            Ciel scoffed. “I can’t believe—”

            “It amuses me that you refuse to believe in curses when you have two demons as servants and have come eye-to-eye with Grim Reapers,” said Sebastian. “Moreover, that which binds you and I is also a curse of sorts.”

            Ciel crossed his arms. “However, witches were humans falsely accused at ridiculous trials. They didn’t fly in the sky or create storms.”

            (Y/N) hummed. “Young Master, I can assure you that witches do exist. Admittedly, most do not have that power, but there are always exceptions. Curses and magic are very much real.” They looked at him, and Ciel saw the look of fire in their eyes, and the memory of their cinematic record popped up. He swallowed. “Never forget that all manner of beings haunt the night.” They smiled with their eyes closed, and Ciel grimaced at the expression. “However, you are correct that most of the accusations were false. Humans enjoy punishing those who attempt to rise above their station.”

            Ciel swallowed as (Y/N) looked back forward, and he tried to speak casually again. “What are real witches like?” He may as well learn something. “Do they summon you to the witch’s sabbath and worship you?” He attempted his usual sarcastic remarks.

            “Summoning demons and worshipping them…” mused Sebastian. He chuckled. “I do not believe sabbaths were held for that purpose. They were times of social interaction for depraved adults who wished to escape reality by sinking into debauchery.” He smirked at (Y/N). “Would you say that I’m correct?”

            “For some,” said (Y/N). “But those are the ones that seek the darkness for the sake of darkness. Sacrificing people, offering souls up to demons in exchange for their desires.” They tsked. “Those are the marks of people who wish to hold magic but have no natural ability for it. They use the moniker, but they practice the one aspect of it you should not—sacrifice. Using another for your own profit is a trade that cannot be properly made. Only one’s own sacrifice assists magic for ones own benefit.”

            Ciel seemed frozen for a moment. “What do you mean?”

            “Magic respects balance. If you give to it, it gives to you. However, if you attempt to give something of another to it without their willingness, it will instead respond to that other. Even if you profit in the moment, the cost will catch you,” said (Y/N).

            Sebastian glanced at his darling. He was ever-so-curious to see what their magic practices had been. He saw them use demonic magic at times, but to see them in their old element with the practices that had brought them to him as a demon…Sebastian was ever-so-curious. (And he was hoping the practices of some witches being naked during some spell work was true. Imagining magic curling around him and (Y/N) in a moment of intimacy was a tempting thought).

            (Y/N) smiled. “So, Young Master, should you decide to pursue magic, keep that in mind.”

            Ciel grimaced. He had no wish to do so. He’d seen enough sacrifice to know he would never make the mistake (Y/N) described.

            “My Lord,” said Sebastian, pausing the horses and looked through the woods. “Please, see for yourself. There are buildings over there.”

            Ciel furrowed his brow at the town cloaked in mist as Sebastian directed the cart towards it. The entire place was silent although it was daytime still. Sebastian and (Y/N) got down, and Sebastian guided Ciel down.

            “So there really was a village in this forest,” said Ciel, looking around. “No one’s around.” He frowned as they walked farther into the town. “Is it abandoned?”

            “No,” said Sebastian. “The houses have been kept up. I’m certain people do live here.”

            “Hey!” called Finny. “Is anybody—”

            The doors of every building opened violently. “Intruders!” shouted German voices. “Everybody, come out and fight!”

            Sebastian and (Y/N) shifted as women with pitchforks, rakes, axes, and other makeshift weapons emerged with angry expressions. Strangely enough, they all wore old German clothing, nowhere near modern. Several centuries old, in fact. Mey-Rin’s eyes widened, Finny jumped back, and Ciel narrowed his eyes.

            “Talk about a warm welcome,” said Baldroy.

            (Y/N)’s eyes went to the amulets around each of the women’s necks. They were identical with little inscriptions of runes a circle. (Y/N) furrowed their brow. None of the sigils were familiar. The alphabet was, but the actual combinations seemed to be gibberish. A German variation of magic? Perhaps new runes? It has been some centuries. However, the clothes are not modern, and the story of the witches said they have been here for several centuries. Furthermore, none of the women had emerged with any herbs, hex bags, or objects to perform magic. (Y/N)’s suspicions remained stubbornly within them.

            “Who are you bastards?!” shouted one woman. “How did you find your way here?!”

            “Tell them we would like to speak to their lord,” said Ciel.

            “Yes, sir,” said Sebastian.

            (Y/N) decided to watch with amusement how that would go over. Witches could be men or women or anything in between, but they were a more matriarchal society than patriarchal. If there was a lord here, (Y/N) would be impressed. Still, they were going to be amused and learn something helpful, so they let Sebastian speak.

            “We mean no harm,” said Sebastian. “We beg audience with your liege lord.”

            “What? Our liege?” said the woman leading the pack, her eyes narrowing.

            “Could they be targeting the honorable Sullivan?” murmured the other women.

            “Sullivan?” said Sebastian, raising a brow.

            “What are they—”

            “Quiet!” The woman cut Ciel off. “You villains must be betrayers!”

            “Betrayers? We’re not!” assured Finny nervously. His history as an experiment subject to a German scientist showed itself in his pronunciation.

            “We will spare none of your ilk!” said the women. “Don’t let them escape alive! Death to betrayers! Death to betrayers!”

            “What is the meaning of this?!” said a new, authoritative, young voice.

            “The honorable Sullivan!” gasped the women in surprise. Instantly, they bowed.

            The woman in charge spoke politely, “We apologize for letting intruders enter the village!”

            Sebastian raised a brow, and (Y/N) tilted their head. “Are you the honorable Sullivan, the liege lord?” asked Sebastian.

            “Indeed.” Carried by a tough German man, a young woman—(Y/N) would scarcely think her above thirteen at the very oldest—spoke. She was small, dressed in green finery. “I am Sieglinde Sullivan. Liege of this Forest!”

            Interesting, thought (Y/N). A child is in charge? That was hardly a standard choice for covens. They were too young, too unpracticed in magic. Yes, they could be powerful, but the lack of control that came with age and the need to protect children from being targets of those that hurt witches made it a terrible choice. Further evidence for (Y/N)’s theory, as far as they were concerned.

            The man holding Sieglinde walked closer to the group, and Sebastian watched him calmly. Abruptly, the man nearly growled and leaned in violently.

            “And form whence do you hail, peon?!” he said, the threat of violence in his voice.

            How uncouth, thought (Y/N).

            “Enough, Wolfram,” said Sieglinde, hitting him on the head so he’d straighten. “Excuse us. It has been quite some time since we last had visitors in the village.”

            “I don’t know how you managed to reach us, but here in our village of Wolfsschlucht outsiders are not welcome to stay.” Wolfram glared at (Y/N), and they raised a brow, putting their hands on their hips in a dare. Wolfram swallowed and coughed as their attractiveness settled in. “You-You must go back to where you came from!”

            “Best to retreat and consider alternative approaches, I think,” whispered Ciel.

            “Yes, my Lord,” said Sebastian. He was more than happy to do that to get Wolfram’s eyes off his (Y/N). He turned them with him towards the road. “Very well. Then we will take our l—”

            “Wait!” said the women, lifting their weapons and blocking their exit.

            “You and your party don’t seem to understand how fortunate you are to have passed through the forest unscathed,” said Wolfram.

            “What do you mean?” said (Y/N), already knowing the answer but fishing to see what information would be given.

            Wolfram took the bait. “Surely you must have heard the tales about the noble wolfman who protects the forest!”

            Sebastian smirked. “Then this is indeed the witches’ village under the protection of the wolfman. Is that right?”

            Wolfram was silent, hesitant to speak again.

            “Herr Wolfram, these people are dangerous!” shouted a village woman. “We must finish them off at once—”

            “Wait!” declared Sieglinde. She whispered into Wolfram’s ear, and (Y/N) and Sebastian exchanged a look of interest as they overheard. Interesting.

            “My Lady, that is—”

            “Do you refuse to do as I bid?” said Sieglinde, irked.

            “…Ja,” said Wolfram, capitulating. “Listen well. If you head back into the forest now, darkness will fall before you make it out.  The forest at night is far too perilous a place. Safe passage through the forest a second time cannot be guaranteed. No, you’ll never be able to leave its confines again. So…we will make an exception and permit you all to stay the night.”

            Shock ran through everyone, newcomers and villagers alike.

            “We can provide beds for tonight,” informed Wolfram, obeying his lady’s requests. “But come the very break of dawn—”

            “Herr Wolfram!” said the woman with the brazen, in-charge attitude “How could you invite strangers to the Emerald Castle?!”

            “Hilde,” said Wolfram. “It is as my lady wills.” Hilde gritted her teeth.

            “What’s happening?” asked Ciel.

            “We are being permitted to stay at the liege’s resident for the night,” said Sebastian.

            “That is my lady’s Emerald Castle.” Wolfram pointed up at a dark castle looming over the village. “Follow me.”

Taglist:

@technikerin23

@im-making-an-effort

@izzieg3987

@jinxxangel13

@alexpangender

@otomyoli

@neenieweenie

@nex-crowley

@anxious-chick

@bellacastiel

@v1l-ismissing

@agentdedf1sh

@iamsexytrash

@oceansfloor

@sarkzjam

@temporarilyablog

@elaemae

@urlocalsabito

@roo024

@ittomain1

@whereismymonsterlover

@alythewolf

@serinity750

@cloberrii

@kniselle

@ray-rook

@yappydoo

@kitkatlover015

@snowy-violet

@jaguarthecat

@burning-harmony

@pain-in-the-ashe

@urlocalsabito

[the-weaving-cryptid]

Runa | 24 | she/her | bi 🩷💜🩵

I'm a folk practitioner living in appalachia and (trying) to reconnect to my ancestors cultures.

Pfp was made with the Yaelokre picrew.

Under the cut is a navigation guide for my account.

Blog Sections, Chapters & Info

Resource Finding

Free Books on Folklore

Book Reviews

Buggy's Book Reviews

Maddiviner's Book Reviews

Book Transcripts

Foxfire Book Two

Folk Practices

Southern Folk Practices

Texas Folk Practices

Appalachian Folk Practices

German Folk Practices

Folk Medicines

Finding Lost Things

Folklore

Snake Lore

Divination

Bone Throwing/Osteomancy

Astrology

Agricultural Astrology

[colivingflats]

How Fully Furnished Apartments in Munich Simplify Relocation

Moving to a new city is like starting a whole new chapter—with blank pages, new challenges, and unpredictable plot twists. Munich, with its centuries-old architecture, world-class tech hubs, and espresso-strong urban energy, can be an inspiring setting. But between figuring out paperwork, converting your coffee machine plug, and navigating the language barrier, there's one decision that can change the whole tone of your arrival: where (and how) you live.

This is where fully furnished apartments come in—not just as a convenience, but as an intentional choice. Think of them as your instant home base. No furniture deliveries, no trying to install shelves with Google-translated manuals. Just unpack, settle, breathe.

Whether you’re here for a year or forever, here’s why going furnished might just be the reset button you didn’t know you needed.

Arrive and Actually Live

No lie—moving abroad is emotionally messy. Your stuff’s in boxes, your to-do list is wild, and the thought of spending your first weekend assembling an IKEA bed sounds like a nightmare. That’s why furnished apartments feel like magic: everything is already done.

You walk in and there's a bed. A couch. Plates and glasses in the cabinets. Maybe even a cozy throw on the sofa. It’s not just “convenient”—it’s calming. In a city that’s new and a little intimidating, having a fully set-up apartment gives you something solid. Something familiar.

It’s like, "Hey, you’ve got this."

Munich's Rental Scene, Decoded

Munich is brilliant, but it’s also a tough nut to crack housing-wise. Listings vanish within hours. Landlords want long-term contracts. And don't even get us started on shared flat interviews. Furnished rentals, especially those tailored for expats, cut through the static.

They usually come with streamlined processes, shorter leases, and landlords who understand that you might not have German tax documents yet. It’s not just easier—it’s less stressful. You’ll spend less time hunting for housing and more time learning your U-Bahn routes or scouting out the best local bakery (pro tip: there are many).

Renting Time (Back)

There’s something radical about having your time returned to you. Instead of spending your first weeks hunting down routers or figuring out how to open a German utility account, you’re actually living. Furnished apartments remove about fifty percent of the friction of settling in.

No more "Where do I buy a mattress at 7 PM on a Tuesday?" chaos. Just freedom—to explore, to meet people, to start building a life.

And for remote workers or digital nomads? That built-in Wi-Fi and work-ready setup are a lifesaver. Munich is great for productivity—but only if your home works with you, not against you.

Predictable Costs = Peace

Budgeting in a new city is a minefield. You don’t know how much electricity will cost. Internet prices seem like a maze. And what even is a Rundfunkbeitrag?

Furnished apartments often come with one flat price. Rent, internet, utilities—done. That might feel like a small thing, but when you're managing relocation logistics, every bit of predictability is a win. You won’t find yourself shelling out for surprise fees or juggling contracts in a language you barely speak.

It’s all set. You just pay and live.

Mental Health and a Sense of Place

One thing Tumblr folks get is the importance of space as an extension of self. And in times of big change—like moving abroad—your space becomes your anchor. A furnished apartment gives you a backdrop for your story that’s already curated for comfort.

From a real bed to actual lamps (yes, lighting matters), your home starts feeling like a sanctuary right away. Even if you’re just there temporarily, the emotional stability it offers can’t be overstated.

That’s why choosing a fully furnished apartment in Munich isn’t just practical. It’s kind to your future self.

Variety Is Real

Whether your aesthetic is clean and Scandi or artsy and urban, Munich’s furnished apartment scene has range. Studios with exposed beams. Sleek one-bedrooms near the Isar. Family flats with room for strollers and LEGO sets.

These aren't boring hotel-style spaces. Many are genuinely lovely—with modern appliances, design-savvy layouts, and actual thought put into livability. And if you’re planning to explore long-term housing options later, your furnished rental can double as your trial run for neighborhoods.

If You’re Just Passing Through…

Sometimes a move is short-term—a semester abroad, a work project, or a sabbatical. But you still want homey. You still want to feel grounded.

Furnished rentals are made for these moments. Flexible leases, no heavy lifting, and an easy out when your time wraps up. That kind of freedom? Pretty rare in big-city housing markets.

The Bureaucracy Buffer

Dealing with German paperwork isn’t exactly whimsical. You’ll need a rental contract that passes muster, a registered address for your Anmeldung, and probably some official mail to show up at your door. Furnished providers usually know the drill—and help make sure you get what you need.

That support? Worth its weight in pretzels.

Personal Fit, Not One-Size-Fits-All

What works for a grad student probably doesn’t work for a family of four. And that’s okay. Munich’s furnished housing ecosystem is broad. There are community-driven buildings with coworking lounges. Apartments that let you bring your dog. Quiet spots close to international schools.

So no, you’re not choosing from a shelf of pre-cut templates. You’re picking a setup that fits you.

Final Thoughts, Like a Diary Entry

If you’re still deciding whether furnished is “worth it,” ask yourself: Do I want my first memory of Munich to be making a bed out of hoodies on the floor—or sipping tea from a stocked kitchen, window open, city buzzing outside?

Go easy on yourself. Moving is hard enough.

Check out options for a furnished apartment Munich that’ll help you hit the ground running. Your next chapter deserves a soft landing.

#relocationtips #munichliving #expatlife

[monriatitans]

Monria Titans

Let's Read Some $#!7 by Howard Zinn, The Brothers Grimm, & 3dtotalPublishing

Welcome to another installment of Let’s Read Some $#!7 (LRSS)! In sum, the purpose of these videos is to introduce educational resources regarding the creation of video games, to promote literacy, to provide world-building tools for creatives, to provide books for escapism, and/or to get banned books into people’s view and whatever I feel like reading aloud at the time.

They go as follows: 1. Read the summary on the back of the book (if applicable). 2. Read the “Forward”, “Preface”, and “Acknowledgments” (if applicable). 3. If there is no “Introduction”, read [part of] the first chapter.

If this is something you’re interested in, don’t forget to hit the “Subscribe” and/or “Follow” button!

Even though the purpose is education/book introduction, I only read PORTIONS because of DMCA and Copyright.

Today, I read PORTIONS of 3 books from my TBR Stack:

A People’s History of the United States by Howard Zinn With a new introduction by Anthony Arnove, this edition of the classic national bestseller chronicles American history from the bottom up, throwing out the official narrative taught in schools—with its emphasis on great men in high places—to focus on the street, the home, and the workplace. Known for its lively, clear prose as well as its scholarly research, A People’s History of the United States is the only volume to tell America’s story from the point of—and in the words of—America’s women, factory workers, African-Americans, Native Americans, the working poor, and immigrant laborers. As historian Howard Zinn shows, many of our country’s greatest battles—fights for fair wages, eight-hour workdays, child-labor laws, health and safety standards, universal suffrage, women’s rights, racial equality—were carried out at the grassroots level, against bloody resistance. Covering Christopher Columbus’s arrival through President Clinton’s first term, A People’s History of the United States, which was nominated for the American Book Award of 1981, features insightful analysis of the most important events in our history.

The Complete Grimm’s Fairy Tales by The Brothers Grimm THE BROTHERS GRIMM, JACOB (1785-1863) AND WILHELM (1786-1859), were German academics, linguists, and cultural researchers, though they were legendary, of course, for their storytelling. They collected and recorded stories from the wide wealth of European folk tales, and their aim was to retell the tales exactly as they heard them. The work of the Brothers Grimm popularized such classics as Cinderella, The Frog Prince, Hansel and Gretel, Rapunzel, Rumpelstiltskin, and Snow White. Originally titled Children’s and Household Tales, The Complete Grimm’s Fairy Tales contains the essential bedtime stories for children worldwide for the better part of two centuries. Accompanied by 40 color plates and 60 black and white illustrations from award-winning English illustrator Arthur Rackham, The Complete Grimm’s Fairy Tales is the perfect classic edition for your family’s bookshelf.

Artists’ Master Series: Color and Light by 3dtotalPublishing The Artists’ Master Series features experts from both the traditional and digital worlds. Drawing from a wealth of experience, in this book they fully dissect the theory and practice of using color and light to advance your art. Expert Charlie Pickard goes beyond the basics to explore color theory. Advanced topics include color hierarchy, value keying, color constancy, and exposure. Discover how hue, value, and chroma enable you to create, mix, and control color. Next, he moves on to the vast subject of light. Using highly illustrated examples, complex concepts of shading, form, depth, and texture are decoded. Three essential material types – matte, specular, and transparent – are analyzed, instilling confidence to paint any object you encounter. Respected artists Djamila Knopf, Guweiz, and Nathan Fowkes then guide you through extensive tutorials, specially commissioned to explore their use of color and light. Each artist breaks down their process, discussing the decisions made at every stage to achieve striking colors, believable lighting, immersive atmospheres, and realistic surfaces. All three artists work in contrasting ways, resulting in a wide range of approaches to putting theory into practice. Further insight is provided by the gallery artists, also experts in their fields, representing a range of styles, skills, and mediums. This unique opportunity to study color and light so extensively offers a deeper mastery of the subject, and a single, comprehensive reference at your fingertips. WARNING: CONTAINS NUDITY

All book links above are affiliate links.

—

The Monday, April 29th, and 574th, Artist Shout-Out goes to Yerim Lee! Check it out here!

—

TIMESTAMPS 0:00 – Welcome Gamers and Readers! 1:38 – Artist Shout-Out 4:48 – Read Aloud Prelude 5:58 – A People’s History of the United States 47:28 – The Complete Grimm’s Fairy Tales 1:23:02 – Artists’ Master Series: Color and Light 1:39:05 – Artist Shout-Out 1:39:55 – Closing 1:40:56 – MonriaTitans’ Bookshop 1:42:36 – Farewell

—

TO SUPPORT – Buy Me a Coffee: 15% of the proceeds go to Kids Need to Read! – “Let’s Read Some $#!7” About Page – MonriaTitans’ Summary & Links – MonriaTitans’ Bookshop – YouTube Channel – Throne Wishlist

[magratpudifoot]

Finished 19 January 2024:

Witches of Pennsylvania: Occult History and Lore - Thomas White

I got this from a regional Halloween book sale and didn't expect much more than a typical Spoopy Stories anthology like I used to load up on at Scholastic book fairs. Turns out the author is actually a historian and an academic, and this tiny little book is full of archival research into German/Pennsylvania Dutch hex doctors, powwowers, and witches. Although a lot of the stories follow basically the same plot beats as witch persecution stories throughout Europe and the New England colonies, Pennsylvania witchcraft traditions are incredibly unique, and White does a good job of building that context before presenting the long parade of familiar incidents where a "witch" was discovered through perfectly reasonable animal abuse and then perfectly reasonably harassed and/or murdered.

The chapter on the Hex Murders didn't have a lot of information that I hadn't encountered elsewhere (except the mention of the fact that there were evidently a least a couple of related murders that somehow don't count as Hex Murders even though they were inspired by the same hex practitioner?), but it was a solid primer for anyone unfamiliar with this oddly recent bit of folk magic history*. I also really appreciated that White included a possible explanation for why a bunch of European settlers ended up adopting the term "powwow" for their folk magic, even if the story is possibly apocryphal. It was nice to at least acknowledge that it was odd and requires an explanation.

* My gf, who grew up in the area, knew basically nothing about any of this and thought I was misinterpreting the folk art symbols on barns when I first asked her about hex traditions and the murder cases, so I am assuming basically no one knows what I am talking about. (For the record, the barn symbols as a common practice are unrelated even though they are called "hex signs".)

[sinterhinde]

https://www.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/fpsyg.2019.02250/full

'The True Self. Critique, Nature, Method', published on Frontiers in Psychology 2019, by Terje Sparby, Friedrich Edelhäuser, and Ulrich W. Weger.

"The history of philosophy gives us many different accounts of a true self, connecting it to the essence of what a person is, the notion of conscience, and the ideal human being. Some proponents of the true self can also be found within psychology, but its existence is mostly rejected. Many psychological studies, however, have shown that people commonly believe in the existence of a true self. Although folk psychology often includes a belief in a true self, its existence is disputed by psychological science. Here, we consider the critique raised by Strohminger et al., stating that the true self is (1) radically subjective and (2) not observable, hence cannot be studied scientifically (Strohminger et al., 2017).

"Upon closer investigation, the argument that the self is radically subjective is not convincing. Furthermore, rather than accepting that the true self cannot be studied scientifically, we ask: What would a science have to look like to be able to study the true self? In order to answer this question, we outline the conceptual nature of the true self, which involves phenomenological and narrative aspects in addition to psychological dimensions. These aspects together suggest a method through which this concept can be investigated from the first-person perspective. On a whole, we propose an integrative approach to understanding and investigating the true self."

I am yet to read this I have no recollection of finding it, but here we are. I'm also really turned on by all of their references. Let me list the chapters:

A Short Historical Account of the Self and the True Self

The True Self in Philosophy and Psychology

A Thin and Thick Conception of the True Self and Their Unity

The Problem of Radical Subjectivity and Observability of the True Self. Subheadings: Radical Subjectivity, Evidence Insensitivity

Outline of a Comprehensive First-Person Method for Studying the True Self

Terje Sparby, philosopher and meditation researcher, is credited with writing the majority of article. On his website he states that his 'main areas of research are German idealism, consciousness, and phenomenological or first-person methods'. He is a professor of philosophy at the Steiner University College in Oslo.

Sparby also runs The Philosopher's Stone, a 'contemplative science blog' that also explores mediation research and practice.

https://thephilosophersstone.blog/

[coldalbion]

Goêtic Atavisms (pre-order)

It's hardback pre-order day, folks! If you want in on one of the 500 fine edition hardbacks, head over to Hadean Press and pre-order here. Now, for non UK folks, I suspect shipping may be pricey but keep an eye on folks like Miskatonic Books or similar if your're in NA. (I'll post here if I spot any) Shipping in July, and I suspect the paperback, which will also be available then may end up available through the Great Horror that is Amazon. Until then, click through the links or enjoy this sneaky peek at the paperback cover, blurb and video!

"Goêtic Atavisms is designed to be an uncompromising and challenging book.

Written in mutual exchange between practitioners Frater Acher and Craig Slee, two radical views and explorations of applied goêteia emerge. This tête-bêche book can be read from both sides; behind one cover containing the chapters by Acher, behind the other those by Craig Slee, and where they meet in the middle a preface by none other than Frater U∴D∴.

In their own unique voices, the authors draw the reader in and call on them to bring goêteia to life in their own flesh. Over twelve chapters, packed with historic detail and practical experimentations, the reader is guided to take a fresh look at such diverse bodies of goêtic work as Zosimos of Panopolis, Germanic and Old Iranian folklore, Goethe’s Faust and the Earth Spirit, Austin Osman Spare's œuvre, as well as modern forms of corporeality such as pornography, tattoo culture, and bodily disability. Goêtic Atavisms was written not only to be a sensual experience, but to facilitate magical touch."

[lorna-d-m]

Chapter Eight: Vows

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x Fem!OC

Summary: Captain Zemo roams the high seas thirsting for revenge, and instead, he stumbles upon the shipwrecked and left for dead Mary Spencer. As the sole survivor, Captain Zemo takes her aboard his ship, the Bloody Baron. Engaged to an English Admiral, Mary Spencer wants nothing more than to return home and live the life she was born for. That is, of course, until she realizes what life can be aboard the Bloody Baron with the Captain himself.

Word Count: 8,731

W: language, violence, drinking, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), vaginal penetration. No stated use of birth control but wrap it before you tap it folks.

A/N: Little announcement, I will be going on a trip later this month, so there may be a delay for chapter nine. I do, however, have a one shot I can post if it takes too long. I have also decided on a modern au for Laszlo Kreizler as my next fic.

Once again, note that I’ve moved Sokovia’s location and made it a Germanic language. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or fill out the form on my pinned masterpost. Thank you so much!

previous chapter

Mary woke at sunrise when Helmut kissed her forehead. He did not think she would wake, but when he pulled away she blinked at him, still half asleep. She beamed, relishing the affection he showed her.

“What are you doing up so early?” She rolled on her stomach to his side of the bed when he got up. It was still warm and smelled like him. 

“I’m always an early riser,” he remarked, “You’ve simply never seen me in the morning.” 

Mary contemplated that while he excused himself. It was usually Helmut waking her up with breakfast or a meal and checking in on her. She had never woken up with him, but she liked it. Hopefully, every morning would start with a kiss. Lightly, Mary ran her finger over her lips, jealous he did not kiss her there. But, she thought, it was sweet of him to kiss her forehead.

Helmut returned and drew back the heavy red curtains. Bright morning light spilled in, and Mary blinked a few times as she adjusted. He stayed a moment at the window to gauge the weather and the waves before humming in satisfaction. She watched Helmut saunter about the room to get dressed, pulling clothes from trunks and setting them aside. His gold chain, nestled amongst his chest hair, glinted in the light and caught her attention. He started to dress in a light tea-colored shirt, but he frowned when he discovered a hole under his arm. It was large enough to stick his hand through, so he found another shirt. 

“I could fix that for you,” Mary offered from their bed. She wore several of his shirts, and she knew most of them had small holes or tears in them. If there was some way she could help him, she was glad to do so.

“Would you? I have sewing supplies somewhere here…” Helmut trailed off as he rifled through his desk. 

“Of course,” She smiled coyly. “I did not spend so many afternoons in a drawing room, sipping tea and practicing my stitching, not to utilize it.” 

He handed her the bundle of thread, patchwork cloth, and pincushion filled with needles. Mary was about to ask him for the clothes to mend when there was a hesitant knock at the door.

“Come in,” Helmut directed. He had yet to slip on his new shirt, but he made no move to do so. Zemo was not ashamed of his body, and he saw no need to rush to conceal himself from his crew.

Mary quickly covered herself with a sheet despite nothing being exposed. He bit back a snicker seeing her scramble, knowing modesty was ingrained into her head and despite nothing occurring, lying in his bed while he dressed did not appear chaste. Although the sheet could not hide her, it made her feel better. 

Billy entered balancing a breakfast tray in one hand and keeping his eyes cast down. He spoke in a rush as he set down the tray; Helmut wondered if the boy even took a breath. “Sorry, sir, some of the crew said you might not wan’ to be disturbed in the morning, but others said you would wan’ breakfast, so I figured I would knock…”

Mary blushed and wished to disappear, but Helmut smiled goodnaturedly. He would hate for Billy to enter some morning and find them in a state of undress and disarray, so it was best to dismiss him from some of his duties. “Thank you for the breakfast, but I think in the future it will not be necessary.”

“Aye, Cap’n.” Billy still avoided Helmut’s eye and nodded before leaving.

“Is he gone yet?” Mary asked from under her sheet. 

Helmut facetiously pulled the linen away from her and chuckled. “Yes, and tell me, Sternchen, what will you do when there is an emergency and someone comes into my cabin to find you in a less demure state?”

“Hmm,” she dramatized her thinking to amuse him, “I will send my soon-to-be husband, while I stay in the privacy of our bed.” Mary tugged the sheet back over her.

“Oh, is that your plan?” Helmut leaned in, placed a quick kiss on her cheek, and stayed exhilaratingly close to her. He practically purred in her ear, “Of course, I should have known.”

Mary’s heart skipped a beat, and she barely restrained a gasp. With a small smirk, he withdrew. Helmut finished dressing, securing his belt over his black linen pants and lacing up his boots. Then he handed her a neatly folded stack of clothes to darn before sitting at the table. Mary left their bed to join him, eager to eat breakfast.

“Is there somewhere on deck I can sit?” He glanced up at her while pouring his morning tea, so she continued. “I thought it would be nice to sit outside in the sun and the breeze for a bit.” Being cooped up in the Governor’s house and spending all of the previous day in their cabin made her long for some fresh air.

“I am not sure if there is one that will suit you, but it can be arranged.” The morning was far more temperate. By afternoon she would need shade and protection, perhaps even venturing below deck. Amongst his many arrangements for the day, Helmut wanted to be sure she would be comfortable. 

After breakfast, Helmut paid a visit to the galley. If he was to plan a pirate wedding, he wanted it to be a proper celebration for everyone aboard. That would mean plenty of food, freely flowing drinks, and a massive amount of work for the cook to prepare for the night. 

“It’s possible…” Anthony the cook stirred something in a large pot before returning to Zemo, “If you get me more fresh fish.” He cracked a grin, “How am I supposed to make a feast fit for a baron with only salted meats and preserves?”

Zemo returned Anthony’s grin with an acknowledging smile. It was rare for his previous title to be mentioned to his face, but he knew in this instance Anthony meant no harm. It was lighthearted ribbing, meant to make the Captain laugh. 

“I am sure some of the crew can be convinced to cast lines and nets rather than their usual chores.” Besides, if he would rather eat a fresh fish stew than a sad, salted, unrecognizable piece of meat, so would they.

Anthony sprinkled several spices into the pot and gave it a taste. Smacking his lips, he returned to the Captain. “Then you will have the finest food any pirate has ever known, sir.”

Helmut did not doubt that, so he began his search for Oeznik. He needed his first mate to officiate the wedding, and he knew his old friend would be pleased for him. Oeznik was an early morning riser, and given the mid-morning time, he suspected he would find him patrolling the deck or inspecting work. He left the galley and passed through the berth deck.

Mary sat in the shade where the quarter-deck hung over the main deck. She happily showed him her work so far, and her stitches were smooth and clean as he knew they would be. He was thankful to have some of his shirts repaired and in rotation again since she enjoyed wearing them. Helmut did not mind sharing with her, he rather enjoyed the sight of her in his clothes, but he knew they both would appreciate clothes without holes or tears in them. 

“What’s this?” He picked up a shirt to the left of her, yet to be mended, with several tears and holes in it. Helmut did not recognize it as his. 

“Oh!” Mary smiled with pride, “Some of the crew brought me clothes to patch up.” He eyed the stack next to her which looked like more than some, and he arched an eyebrow. “They noticed me sitting here sewing things for you, and they asked if I would mend their clothes. I agreed, so three of them brought me a few pieces.”

“Awfully helpful of you.” He remembered her net fixing exploits and knew she liked to stay busy. Too much idle time and she would grow bored and restless. It was one of the traits he admired about her. “I am sure they will appreciate it.”

“Yes,” she glanced up from her stitching to look at him. “I examined one of the shirts and found several rough, zig-zagging repairs. I rather think mine will be an improvement.”

Helmut refolded the shirt and returned it to the pile. “With certainty.”  He spotted Oeznik at the bow of the ship, so he politely excused himself. Mary urged him on knowing he had a busy day.

Zemo noticed the two men scrubbing the deck within listening distance as he approached, so he greeted his old friend in their native tongue. It would give them privacy since little the crew understood. Those who did were not near.

Oeznik followed his Captain’s lead when he spoke. “I see Ms. Spencer has decided to stay on the ship.” He always spoke of her as Ms. Spencer, never the less formal Mary.

Grinning slyly, Helmut pressed his palms against the railing of the ship. He leaned over a touch to see the waves cresting against the keel. “Ms. Mary Eleanor Spencer has,” after her panic last night of course he needed to say her full name with a smirk, “and we have chosen to wed. I need my first mate to officiate.”

“When, sir?”

“Tonight, at sunset.” He turned away from the water. “She did not wish to wait any longer.” Neither did he, but it had been her idea. Helmut would make it happen for her.

His first mate laughed quietly, and he almost did too from sheer joy. Never in his wildest dreams did he think Mary would grow fond of him, let alone want to marry him. Helmut spent so many nights dreading when she would leave him, how she would loathe him when she knew the truth, and yet Mary did not. She loved him.

“Hm,” Oeznik never forgot a conversation, and although Mary was important to Zemo, so, too, were Heike and Carl. Eight years of heartache and anger were not easy to forget. “You have reconciled your desire for revenge?” 

Helmut’s eyes flashed toward Oeznik for a moment, burning at the memories, and then he sighed. “She was aware of her intended’s behaviors well before I told her.” Oeznik’s eyes widened as he continued. “Mary was only bound to him through duty and finance, not any form of love or devotion. She feels no loyalty to him.” 

Oeznik smiled and clasped him on the shoulder. “Then it would be my honor to marry you.” Zemo leaned into the old man and hugged him. Oeznik chortled in surprise but supported his Captain as best he could. 

In the evening, before the sun began to set, the couple prepared for their ceremony. Nervous butterflies fluttered in Mary’s stomach, but she was excited to see what he prepared for her. Helmut spent almost all day discussing and arranging with the crew, trying to keep some element of surprise for her. 

Before he returned to their room, Mary changed into the sleek white negligee. She studied herself in the mirror and tried to remember all of her fantasies from two nights ago. Would Helmut find her breathtaking and charming as she dreamed, or would he not like what he saw as she feared? 

You’re being ridiculous… Mary remembered the way he kissed her. Surely he would not touch her, tease her, thrill her, if he did not desire her. Helmut was respectful of her boundaries, never crossing the line, but edging close enough to tantalize her. Part of her wanted to know what would happen when he finally crossed that line. 

Mary slipped the light blue day dress over the nightgown. She knew the cut of the gown would cover the delicate fabric, and she thought it would be a nice surprise for their night. He would unlace her dress, let it fall from her shoulders, then take in her form in the negligee. Perhaps he would kiss her first, pulling the pins from her hair as he did, and then— 

—Helmut entered their room, startling Mary’s fantasies, and she sighed in relief when she realized it was him. He apologized, ever the gentleman, and she asked him to lace up her gown.

“In a moment,” he requested, “Allow me to clean up. I would hate to accidentally ruin your fine dress.” 

Blushing as she held the top over her chest, and barely kept it from slipping off her shoulders, she waited for him to return. He did, and Mary felt his strong but nimble fingers at the base of her spine. His breath was warm on her neck, and his voice a whisper in her ear as he confessed. “Unlacing is more of my specialty, but I have experience and patience. A man can do anything if he has those.”

Mary leaned into his touch, and he chuckled against her. He was not even undressing her, he was lacing up her dress, and yet she found herself drawn to him. His every touch and word thrilled her. 

“Have patience, Sternchen, not yet,” Helmut murmured. His mouth drew near the pulse point of her neck, and she wanted him to kiss it as he did before, but he withdrew with a pinch to her waist. He was finished with her dress, and he needed to tend to himself.

Playfully annoyed, she picked up his hand mirror and looked for somewhere to prop it up. Styling hair with one hand was difficult, so Mary found a spot on the nightstand where she could set the mirror and still see her reflection. Smartly, she kept all her hairpins from the Governor’s so she could recreate a seemingly delicate hairstyle. 

Mary peeked at Helmut in the mirror. If Helmut could look at her undressing, could she not observe him dressing? He ferreted through several chests and trunks before humming excitedly and tapping his fingers against the wood. Mary watched with keen interest as he laid aside several dress shirts, coats, pants, and vests reminiscent of a Baron. 

Meeting his inquisitive eye in the mirror, she gave her opinion. “I like the purple one.” Helmut smiled and held it up for her further inspection. It was a dark vest, the color of full-bodied wine, with gold buttons down the front. Sitting on the bed, Mary could not see the details, but she knew it was finely tailored. He would buy nothing less. She nodded approvingly at him. 

“Then I shall wear it,” Helmut promised. He set it aside to create an outfit.  

Mary returned her attention to her hair, wondering how her maidservants and her ladies ever fashioned her tresses. It was unruly and outright uncooperative no matter how many pins she placed, and she grew frustrated with it. 

Helmut noticed her trying to pin a piece in place, and he watched as it fell again. She sighed in annoyance and started to try again. “Leave it down if it is bothering you,” he gently advised as he crossed the room.

She protested weakly, knowing it was a losing battle. “But I won’t look pretty if my hair isn’t up.” Admittedly, her hair did not look as she imagined with half the pins falling out, but she had been raised to believe a formal event meant her hair needed to be tamed and styled.  

“This is a pirate wedding, Sternchen, not a society ball.” Helmut kissed her cheek and turned her face away from the mirror. “Besides, I think you are lovely, ethereal even, with your hair down,” he assured her in a low voice. 

Taking his advice, Mary set about removing all the gold and pearl hairpins. Helmut dressed behind her, choosing a starched white shirt with ruffles near the wrist and collar. She took in a deep, steadying breath before picking up two pins and fastening her dark hair away from her face. On a ship, the wind was liable to blow in any direction. Mary at least wanted to be prepared.

“Handsome,” she turned over her shoulder and complimented him, “but I think you’re overdressed for a pirate wedding.” Helmut resembled a Baron. His white shirt was tucked into the black linen pants, and his purple vest was done up. Closer now, she could see the fine gold and silver embroidery. 

Helmut demurred, “Really? And what, pray tell, should a pirate wear?” He stepped closer to her, sitting on the bed, trapping her against it. Stuck between his legs and broad frame, Mary’s heart began to race. However, she held her ground. 

“A pirate’s shirt should be loose,” she reached for the top buttons of his vest and undid them. “Now everyone can see your strong chest and gold necklace.” So she could see it, more like. 

Helmut laughed briefly, knowing she was doing this for her amusement. But, then again, so was he. Teasing her and pleasing her brought him joy, and he wanted to see where she would go with this ruse. 

Mary pushed a lock of hair off his forehead and back, almost out of reach for her in this position. “A proper pirate should have a hat, the kind with a feather that flops in front of his face.” He stilled at her touch, his eyes reverent as her hand strayed to cup his cheek. “And jewelry,” she said definitively, “a pirate needs to be dripping in regalia.”

He took her hand cradling his cheek and kissed her knuckles. His lips were soft against her as he promised to follow her every word. Mary giggled on the bed, waiting to see what he would do. Helmut picked up the small chest of jewelry she stole from the Governor’s and handed it to her before picking up a similar container on another shelf. 

“Reminiscent of your own words,” he quipped, “if you are to wed a pirate, then you ought to look like a pirate.”

She slipped on the rings and the bracelets with a grin, but she hesitated with the necklaces. The clasps were tricky, she remembered how difficult they were to secure, so she asked for his help. Clad in his heavy gold rings and necklaces, Helmut obliged. 

“Now you look like a pirate,” he rasped in her ear. Mary held her hair out of his way, and his hands lingered. Her heart skipped a beat, and she feared he could feel it at the pulse point of her neck. His lips pressed against her, tender at first, then more insistent as he wrapped his arms around her waist. He kissed down the smooth line of her neck and nipped near her collarbone.

A knock at the door broke them apart, and Mary anxiously pulled away from Helmut. Much like the sheet in the morning, she did not like the idea of being seen in a more intimate moment. As a delicate lady, she was not accustomed to the idea. Helmut, she quickly learned, did not shy away from public displays of affection.

“Captain!” She recognized Billy’s voice on the other side of the door. “Are you ready? It’s almost time!”

“Yes!” Helmut called back, “We will be there in a moment.” He arched an eyebrow at her. “Are you ready?”

Mary checked her dress and her hair again, ensuring nothing was out of place, before nodding at him. “I believe I am,” she answered confidently.

He reached for his hat and sword belt on his desk. After all, he needed them to be an authentic pirate. “You look stunning, Sternchen,” Helmut complimented as he offered his arm to her.

She took it and reached for his steady hand. When she found it, calluses and all, she gripped it tight. He gave her a light squeeze before leading her to the deck. Mary looked to him for reassurance before stepping out, and he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear with a smile.

Outside, the crew of the Bloody Baron waited for them. Some sat on makeshift tables and chairs made of crates and barrels, and others stood. Candles lit the deck, but the sky was brighter. The sunset in the western sky was an array of pale pink, dark purple, and burning orange. It was endless and breathtaking. 

“Go on.” Helmut nudged her toward the curved staircase on the left. Mary was reluctant to leave his side, but he squeezed her hand to give her courage. 

She walked up the left staircase, mindful of every step, while Helmut ascended the right. Both were elegant in the vestments of their rank. They met in the middle of the quarterdeck where Oeznik waited for them. He smiled and greeted them in a low voice before clearing his throat to begin the ceremony. 

“You may know this man as your Captain, but I have known him since he went by a name nearly forgotten now.” Helmut bowed his head in acknowledgement as he knew where Oeznik’s speech was going. Amongst the crew and many others in the new world, Helmut’s past was spoken in whispers and rumors, never confirmed. “Before he was ever Captain Zemo of the Bloody Baron, he was Baron Zemo of Sokovia. So when he found Lady Mary Eleanor Spencer in the wreckage of her ship, he could not leave her there.” 

Mary’s cheeks flushed. Helmut must have told him her full name. She did not mind, it was fitting for their wedding, but how Helmut learned mortified her. 

“It was only natural they should form a strong bond, greater than any of their ties to their past, so they may start a new future.” He looked expectantly at Helmut. “Would you like to say a few words?”

She admired the way his lips parted in thought and how the sun shone on all of his freckles. He radiated adoration like he wished to worship her.

“I would, danke freund.” Helmut stood a little straighter, bristling with pride. He wet his lips before speaking, and his voice was quiet, meant for her ears only. “For years, I was lost in darkness. There was no bright moon or glittering stars in the sky. But Sternchen, the light reappeared when I met you. ” His eyes, typically discerning and harsh when he stood on the deck, were warm and wide, softened with love when he spoke to her. “You, my little star, lit the way. You guided me to purpose and to hope.” 

Tears welled up in Mary’s eyes, but she tried to blink them away. One started to roll down her cheek, and she sniffled as she wiped it away. Helmut took her hand before it could return to her side and held it.

“Mary, I vow to treasure you above all else.” He gave her hand a comforting squeeze before speaking loud enough for the crew to hear. “I will love you, respect you, and protect you, and if I ever fail to do so you can cast me into the sea or desert me on an island.” 

Some of the crew laughed at the idea of their Captain being marooned for being a bad husband, but Mary knew he meant every word. Helmut would never lie to her. 

“Mary, would you like to say a few words as well?” 

She nodded first, unsure if her voice would squeak or crack when she spoke. “I would, thank you, Oeznik.” Her voice did not fail her, so she continued. “Helmut,” Mary paused, wanting to find the right words, “were it not for you, I would be in a loveless marriage. I would be an ornament to my husband rather than an equal.” He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “You taught me to be brave, to go after what I want, to be my own person. I can never thank you enough for that.”

“Courage was always in you. I merely encouraged it,” he added, smiling indulgently.

“I promise to love you in every way I can. If I do not know how, then I promise to learn.” She was unashamed to admit there was much she did not know about love and relationships, but she desperately wanted to understand. Admitting her inexperience was the first step of learning, so perhaps that was another form of bravery. 

“Helmut, do you have the rings?” 

Reaching into his vest pocket, he pulled out two simple gold bands. Helmut, already holding Mary’s hand, slipped the ring on her finger. She plucked the other ring from his open palm and placed it on the corresponding finger. Their hands were already decorated with rings — gold and silver, rubies and sapphires, emeralds and diamonds — but these simple gold bands were far more meaningful and valuable than the rest combined. 

“By the power vested in me as first mate, I pronounce you husband and wife.” Oeznik lowered his voice again, “You may now kiss your bride.” 

Cheers went up from the crew when Helmut leaned in. His kiss was chaste but sweet. On his lips was the unspoken, bewitching promise for more.

They descended the stairs with entwined arms. As they passed, members of the crew clapped them on the shoulders and congratulated them. The sun hung low in the sky, the final golden rays reflecting across the water, and soon the candles and stars would be the only source of light. Helmut led her to a table and chairs set aside for them and pulled back Mary’s seat for her.  

“Everyone,” at Sam’s encouragement they raised their mismatched cups of beer, wine, rum, or whatever suited their fancy, “a toast to the groom with a bride so fair, and to a bride with a groom so rare.” 

Congratulations came in a mix of “here here”s, clapping, and stomping against the floor. Helmut and Mary thanked them profusely, raising their glasses of wine. He insisted on one of his fine, aged bottles for the night. Anthony laid all the food out on a table, and the crew waited for their captain to eat before they gorged themselves.

Helmut lifted his glass, his other hand holding hers, and smiled. He had a captain and baron’s innate ability to announce without unduly yelling, letting his voice carry instead. “Please, eat and enjoy. This is a night to celebrate!”

The music picked up, lively strings and drums, and they crowded around the dinner table. Helmut leaned close to Mary, his leg brushing against hers, as he rubbed smooth circles into the back of her hand. Ever the watchful Captain, he surveyed the scene on the deck.

“After all the re-routing and diversions, they deserve to have some fun for one night.” He joked, “It’s an apology for less fighting and raiding.” 

Mary laughed, but she was curious too. “When will you return to business?” 

He returned his attention to her and studied her expression. She knew he looked for fear or worry, signs that perhaps despite her desires she was afraid of a pirate’s life, but he found none. Smiling, he answered her.

“In a matter of days.” Helmut held his wineglass by the stem but did not drink from it, “We are going south now to pursue a lead, and I will sell what we have collected at port.” He shrugged lightly, “From there, I could not say.”

“That’s part of the fun, is it not? You can sail anywhere you want, whenever you want?” She thought of all the outlandish trinkets on his bookshelves and the places they must have come from. Perhaps she, too, could collect mementos from every outlandish location.

“Anywhere, as long as it is with you,” he promised, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Sternchen, allow me to bring you a plate. You should not be hungry at your own wedding.”

Helmut returned moments later, and as they ate Mary observed her wedding. People ate, drank, and were merry. The music was lively and rustic, the card games high spirited, and she knew the party would run well into the night. Every so often a crew member approached them, sometimes in a group, and congratulated them. Mary greeted each one by name and sincerely thanked them. 

For once Helmut looked nervous, tilting his head and not a trace of a smile as he pressed his lips together. “I must confess,” he once again leaned close to her to be heard over the festivities, “I know it is not the wedding you dreamed of, but I hope it pleases you.” 

“Oh Helmut,” Mary set down her fork and turned to face him. “It may not be the sophisticated church and lush gardens I always imagined, but I have something far better.” He perked up as she continued, puffing his chest, “I have a husband who loves me, which is more than I could have ever hoped for.”

“You can wish for whatever you desire, Stenchen, and I will grant it for you.” He drew closer, his face inches from hers, and his thigh pressing against hers. Mary wanted to ask him to kiss her again, as he had in the morning or before their wedding, but she did not. This was not the time nor the place.

Instead, Mary tipped her gaze up toward the stars and chose the brightest one. She did not know its name, but she knew Helmut would teach her if she wanted. “I wish to dance, husband.” 

“Then we shall dance,” Helmut purred. His eyes were dark in the flickering candlelight as his pupils threatened to overtake the warm brown. 

Helmut guided her by the hand to the makeshift dance floor in the center of the deck. Without asking, a space was cleared for them. She placed one hand on his shoulder, and he rested his on her waist. Mary held her open palm against his, but Helmut curled his fingers and linked them with hers. At the prompting of the band, Helmut made the first step and Mary followed his lead. She would follow him to the ends of the earth, but at the moment a dance was enough.

He was a gifted dancer, another facet of being raised a Baron, and they were graceful as they swept across the deck. Their gold and silvery jewelry glinted in the light, dazzling anyone nearby. Although Mary danced with at least a dozen men in London, none of them compared to Helmut Zemo. None could thrill her as him with light touches to her waist, his fingers holding her to him, his dark piercing eyes peering into hers, and the murmured words in her ear. 

A folk dance followed the waltz, much more upbeat and uptempo, and Helmut’s hand slid steadily from her waist to the curve of her bottom as he pulled her closer to him. He glanced at her to see if she wanted the space between them again, but by her mischievous smile, he knew she did not. Even if she did not know how to verbalize her wishes, Helmut still knew to grant them. 

After several songs, Mary leaned her head on his shoulder. She panted lightly against him, livened by the vigorous dancing, and he held her close. He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear so he could whisper to her.

“Would you like to retire to our room?” Mary did not think she had ever been so close to him in such a state, she could feel his heartbeat near hers, and she craved more. She nodded against him, affirming his question. 

“Go ahead. I will join you in a few moments,” he instructed. Helmut would exchange a few pleasantries and farewells before leaving for the night. Mary untangled herself from him and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before leaving. 

Mary returned to their room, and in a frenzy, she flitted about the room. She dipped a washcloth in the water basin and washed what she could. It was a cool night on the deck with a gentle breeze, so thankfully she did not sweat too much. When she stepped out of the water closet, Helmut entered their room. 

“Will you unlace me?” She gathered her hair over her shoulder and turned her back toward him. 

“Of course.” Helmut was said he was far more skilled at unlacing a dress, and it showed. He swiftly pulled the laces until the shoulders of her gown threatened to fall off and her white negligee underneath was visible. His hands lingered for a moment at the base of her spine, but he left her alone to prepare himself.

Mary neatly folded her blue dress while he washed and changed. Standing in only her delicate nightgown, she felt both indecently exposed and nervous beyond belief. She remembered her mother’s hushed advice before she left to wed, and Mary took her advice. 

First, she blew out the sconces on the wall, and then she extinguished the candlesticks on his desk. Then Mary drew the heavy red curtains to a close blocking out all star and moonlight. The only remaining light was on the nightstand, a trio of small flames, which she would smother soon enough. Mary settled herself into the bed sitting up against the pillows and tucking the sheets around her. 

“What is this?” Helmut returned, rolling up the sleeve of his loose white shirt, and Mary’s eyes went wide. She worried she had done something to displease him, or he might be unsatisfied before they even began. “Why is it so dark?” He drew near the bed and picked up one of the candles, holding it near his face, so he could see better. “Did you do this?” The flame showed he was not angry with her but concerned. His brows knit together, and he frowned. 

She nodded affirmatively, and he sat at the foot of their bed, the candle still in his hand. The hot wax dripped onto the catcher plate, but still, she feared a drop would spill onto him or her. 

“Why?” It was a simple question, only one word, but one that troubled him. His hawkish eyes peered into her soul, somewhere between anguish and outrage. 

“My mother said my husband would prefer darkness for the marital act, so I thought-” 

“-Of course,” Helmut huffed, muttering a curse. Mary looked at him, her eyes wide with nerves and confusion, so he continued. “I would like to think it may not be your mother’s fault, it is misinformation mothers have given their daughters for generations, but in my life I have learned to know better.”

Unconsciously, she moved her hands to cover her stomach. He may have kissed her and told her he desired her, but she remembered her mother’s words of how her husband would dislike her stomach or her thighs or whatever else. Her instinct was to hide from him, to cover herself. Mary opened her mouth to speak, “Helmut-”

“-Sternchen,” He glanced from her shaky hands to her ashen face and sighed. “Please believe me when I say I wish to see you.” Helmut cupped her chin with the palm of her hand, forcing her eyes that had been avoiding his to focus. “I do not take the privilege nor the honor of being your husband lightly, and I do not wish for you to ever feel unworthy.” 

She nodded, and he nodded at her in return. Helmut took the tallow candle and used it to relight the sconce. Muttering about it being better, now that warm light filled the room, he returned to their bed. He greeted her with a kiss, chaste at first, before pulling away. Mary leaned into him, not letting him draw too far away, and he chuckled lightly. 

He kissed her again, deeper, more passionate, bordering on desperate. One of his hands cupped her cheek, holding her to him, while his other hand wandered. It started on her waist, visible above the sheets, squeezing every so often, before moving lower. Helmut sucked on her bottom lip and trailed his kiss along her jaw, making her pant as he reached the pulse point of her neck. He could feel her heartbeat race as his hand slid along her thigh over her nightgown and under the sheet.

Mary trembled under his touch, so Helmut retreated. He remembered what she said about her mother, and he knew mothers’ reluctance to speak honestly to their daughters about such matters. The last thing he wanted to do was coerce or manipulate her. “Mary,” his voice was soft and tender, “what do you know about sex?”  

She hesitated, pressing her lips together in uncertainty. Helmut did nothing to embarrass her, but it was not a comfortable topic for her. He took her hand in his, rubbing circles against her knuckles, and she was comforted by the simple gesture. 

“My mother told me the purpose of the marital act was to please my husband and to create children.” He nodded, letting her speak rather than interrupting her. “Her advice to me was for it to be dark, that I should be quiet, I must never correct my husband, not to be too eager, and I should never refuse my husband either.”

Helmut shook his head in disappointment. He was not surprised, he had been raised a Baron, but he was still disheartened. It was poor advice meant only to please the husband but never the wife. “Did you ever hear anything else?” Helmut was not naive. He knew women would still whisper of sex in their drawing rooms and parlors in hushed tones. 

“Some of the ladies said it could be pleasurable with the right man,” Mary flushed a furious shade of red. “They did not say much more, just that their husbands were often unsatisfactory.” 

He scoffed a laugh, glad some women figured that out at least. Helmut was pleased, too, that she heard something other than her mother’s awful advice. 

“Oh, my sweet Sternchen,” he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, “Sex is about more than producing children,” she nodded along, mesmerized by his eyes, “in fact, there are many activities which will not result in children. It is also more than a husband’s pleasure or a wife’s pleasure, it is about mutual enjoyment.”

Mutual. Mary wondered how Helmut felt when he kissed her. He was always so composed, but did his heart race too? Did he feel the same? 

“May I show you one of the best ways a man can please a woman?” She nodded, but that was not enough for him. “Can you say it? I would like to hear you.”

“You may,” Mary answered. She could trust Helmut to check with her at every step, and she appreciated his attentiveness. 

He instructed her to lie back on the pillows, and she did. Her eyes never strayed from him, curious as to what he would do next. Helmut pulled back the sheets, exposing her feet and the bottom of her nightgown, and she shivered against the sudden cool air. Slowly, he pushed up the hem of her negligee, and his fingers trailed up against her leg. Now exposed, she inhaled slowly as she watched him press a kiss to her abdomen. He moved down her body, and she squirmed.

One of his hands grasped her hip and held her there. “What I am about to do is commonly called oral sex. I am going to kiss you here,” he lightly ran one of his fingers over her, making her wriggle again, but his other hand held her in place. “Are you alright with this?” His molten brown eyes flickered to hers. 

She remembered before when he asked her to answer aloud, so she did. “I am.” 

The hand that traced along her moved to hold her other thigh, tighter than she would have expected. He started with little kisses and playful nips on her thigh, enough to excite her and almost beg him for more. By morning there will be dark bruises and marks, but neither one cared. Helmut was caught up in the moment, inhaling her heady scent.

He licked along her sex to prepare her. Mary swore she saw a mischievous smile on his lips before he twisted his tongue against her. His every touch was lightning, and she writhed under him at the striking pleasure. 

“Helmut-” she gasped, grasping his sun-lightened hair. It was the only part of him she could reach, and she held on tight to him, curling her fingers in his locks. “What is that?” 

“That, Stenchen, is your clitoris,” he chuckled against her, “and its sole purpose is for gratification.” Helmut rubbed it in circles with his thumb, watching how Mary stretched and groaned. 

She panted, “More, please.” Mary craved that feeling like she needed to breathe. As with everything he did, it was addictive. She wanted more of him, more of his touch, more of his kiss. 

“As you wish.” Helmut licked up all the wetness that seeped out of her, his tongue teasing against her entrance. She breathed unsteadily under him, but he wanted to make her fall apart. He yearned to make her pant, whimper, and moan. He longed to know what she would sound like when he brought her to climax, what she would feel like, and what she would taste like. He craved it all, desperately.

 Helmut sucked on her clit, and on instinct, Mary rut herself against Helmut’s face. He relished this act of impulse. His tongue danced along her entrance again before diving in, pressing against her walls and tasting her sweet slick. She whined his name at this, and he moaned against her. Perhaps by groaning and humming against her, he could encourage her to release her own sounds.

He kissed, licked, and sucked every bit of his wife. Heat built in her core, sparked by the lightning of his touch, and he brought her closer and closer to the brink. The muscles of her thighs contracted and ached, threatening to trap his head between her legs. From the sound of his deep groan when she twitched, Mary did not think he would mind. 

His lips returned to her clit and sucked hard, bringing all of his work to a climax. First were flickers of lightning, then came the thunder. Helmut was rewarded for his efforts with a gasping mewl. 

“You are delicious,” Helmut grunted. He rested his head against her pillowy thigh, allowing them both to catch their breath. “Divine.”

Mary finally untangled her fingers in his hair. She caught her husband gazing at the apex of her thighs adoringly, and she smirked. Curiously, she wondered how long it had been since he last lay with a woman. Had it been his wife, Heike? Or had he found company on lonely nights? She could not blame him if he had, certainly not if some woman was able to ease his suffering and teach him a thing or two along the way. 

“I want you.” She was still too shy to say exactly what she wanted, but he knew. 

He laughed happily, meeting her eyes. “Not yet, Sternchen, not yet. I am afraid you are not ready for me.”

“Are you scared of hurting me?” Mary remembered her mother’s warning that her first time may be painful, but that it should not be too long. If she was tough she would endure. 

Helmut sighed heavily, his fingers absent-mindedly tracing circles against her thigh. Already he could see dark marks forming from where he held her. He pressed a kiss on each one before answering.

“No matter how much I prepare you, there is still a chance it may hurt.” Mary nodded slowly against her pillow. She hoped her mother had been wrong about that as she had many other things. “I promise to be slow and do my best to be gentle, but you must tell me if you are ever uncomfortable.”

She ran her fingers through his hair, attempting to smooth down the mess she made of it. “I will, Helmut, I will.”

“I am going to start with my fingers. Is that alright?” He waited for her permission before continuing. “Can you take off that lovely nightgown? As pretty and enticing as it is, it rather gets in my way.”

Mary quivered at the cold of their room, but Helmut, who lay beside her, was warm. His searing hand cupped her breast, and his thumb stroked her pebbled nipple. To make the situation equal, Helmut removed his white shirt. His golden chain, nestled among the hair on his chest, glinted in the golden candlelight. 

She ran her hands over his chest, feeling his hard muscle under the soft surface. His muscles jumped and flexed under her tentative touch, much like they did when she tended to his wounds, but this was different. This was not accidental, eyes and hands wandering, it was purposeful. Mary wanted to memorize every plain and angle of him. 

Helmut rolled from laying beside her to straddling her. Mary could taste herself on his lips, and his plump cheeks glistened with her. He continued his kiss, following the familiar line along her jaw and neck, but he did not stop or pull away. He kissed his way to her chest and took one peak into his mouth, laving it with his tongue. Refusing to let the other feel neglected, he flicked and pinched it making her huff.

“Sweet girl, did the pinch bother you?” Vehemently, she shook her head no. 

Her hands twisted in his hair again, holding his mouth to her. As if he would willingly detach from her. The hand that fondled her breast strayed, stroking and prodding at her entrance. Slowly and carefully, he pumped his finger in her, using the wetness of her desire and his saliva to his advantage. Mary never felt anything like it before — it was so different from his tongue —, but she enjoyed it. Rubbing at her walls, he searched for the sensitive spots his tongue could not reach. By the intensity of her whimpers, Helmut knew he was close. 

Cruelly, at least in her opinion, Helmut pulled his fingers away from her. He brought them to his lips, obsessed with the taste of her, and laughed when she pouted at him. 

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He dramatically smacked his lips. “But you are so sweet and so patient for me.” 

Mary could not bear waiting any longer. “Helmut, please.”

“Remember,” he prompted, “any discomfort and you tell me.” He spoke quickly, rushing through the rest of his sentence, “And I must admit to you that I may finish rather quickly, but I would still like to please you.”

Mary was so eager she could hardly get the words out. “I promise, and do not worry about that. This will not be our last time together.”

Helmut enjoyed that: she did not say she doubted or she hoped it would not be, she knew. He unbuttoned his pants and shimmied out of them, leaving them on the floor, and slotted between her hips. Mary glanced down quickly at him, and she grew worried.

“Are you sure it will fit?” She had his tongue and his fingers in her, and as exhilarating as it was, she feared he would not fit. Helmut ceased his adoration of her neck, there would be several marks come morning, and rasped in her ear.

“I am sure, Sternchen, I have experience and patience. A man can do anything if he has those.”

“Then please, Helmut.” 

He notched the head of his cock at her entrance. One of his hands found hers, holding it, while the other guided himself. He pushed in gingerly, waiting for the slightest word or expression of pain from Mary. She grimaced, taking a deep breath, but encouraged him. He prepared her well, but the stretch was still greater than anything she experienced before. Helmut muttered praise for her the entire time, raving about her beauty and how much he loved her. 

Mary let out a breath when his hips met hers, and he groaned. “You’re so tight and wet,” Helmut buried his face in her neck, nosing through her hair. He continued to purr dirty praise in her ear, licking and sucking between phrases. His cold gold chain brushed against the top of her breasts, and she desperately wanted him to move. Her muscles tensed around him, making Helmut hum in pleasure. For a moment, he thought he would spill already, enveloped in the wet heat of her, but he steeled his nerves. 

Slowly, he drew his hips back before pushing forward again. He fell into a steady rhythm, a push and pull, teetering on the edge of too much and not enough. Everything Helmut did, Mary wanted more. Her hands traced along his back, feeling the powerful muscles and healed scars move, and instinctively she tried to meet each thrust. 

“More, please,” she begged. Helmut snapped his head up to stare deep into her eyes. He anticipated anything he did being too much for her, too painful, and yet Mary asked for more. His pupils dilated, overtaking the familiar brown, and something deep within him shifted when she made her request. 

He began a brutal pace, hips sinking into hers without restraint. Mary cried out and her eyes rolled to the back of her head when he struck deep, so he did it again and again. His strong frame pinned her to the bed, and there was nowhere else she would rather be. With one hand he pulled her thick thigh up and around his hip, angling her better for him, and the other toyed with her nipple. 

“Does it feel good?” he growled, “To have a husband who loves you so dearly? Who would do anything for you?” John Walker would never have satisfied her, and she knew it. No one could please her as Helmut could. 

There were no coherent thoughts in her head. Her answer was a mix of please, Helmut, and indiscernible babbling. It was music to his ears. Her fingers dug into his skin, her legs shook against him, and he knew she was close again. Helmut was confident her thigh would stay if he no longer held it in place, so he pushed his fingers between them to circle her clit. It was the final touch that pushed her over the edge, squealing his name. 

Helmut maintained his tempo as well as he could, staying consistent for her orgasm, but she coaxed him to follow her soon after. He let out a choked moan as he spilled himself within her in stuttering thrusts. 

He stilled, his cock starting to soften inside her, and Mary held him tenderly. She smoothed his hair out of his eyes and cupped his round cheeks with her hands. Helmut rested his body on her softness, running his hands over her plush curves, and squeezing when the desire struck him. When both their breathing steadied, he kissed her delicately. While he did not wish to leave her, he knew he needed to clean them so they could sleep. 

“Is it like that every time?”

Mary could feel him chuckling, his chest moving against hers, and she laughed herself. “It can be however you wish, my love,” he assured her.

Eventually, he pulled his softened member from her. She missed the full feeling of him, but he explained it would not be comfortable for them to stay like that. Reluctantly getting off the bed, he wet a cloth in the basin to wash the two of them. His touch was gentle, not trying to overstimulate her, but to soothe her. 

He offered her one of his shirts or her nightgown to sleep in, but she rejected it. Lying next to him was warm enough, and she wanted to feel him against her. When he blew out the remaining candles and laid back down in the bed, Mary rested her head on his chest. She heard his heartbeat and his steady breathing, and Helmut kissed her on the top of her head. Mary fell asleep, lulled by the rocking of the ship and the feel of her husband under her. 

tag list: @scuttle-buttle @fictionlandslanddreams @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @hardlyinteresting @sapphiredreamer26 @aedeluca @alycu1 @linkpk88 @rachreads @fandom-princess-forevermore @alindeluce

[antihero-writings]

Before it Kills You Too (Ch2 Snippets 1, 2 & 3)

Fandom: Lore Olympus

Chapter Summary: When Hera gets into a car accident after a fight, Zeus has a moment to ruminate on their relationship. Written using the song “Wait” by Maroon 5 as a prompt.

Character Focus: Zeus

Please note!! This is the previous Ch2 snippets I posted + a new snippet (the new snippet starts with “I would venture to guess she was driving too fast.”)

I’ve been having trouble with this chapter for a very long time, so I’ve decided to post it snippet-by-snippet, because that seems like the only way I’ll successfully finish this fic. 

While this should be as close to the final version as it can be, anything in this snippet is subject to change when the full chapter comes out. (And, hey, to that end, if there’s anything you think needs to be edited here, please kindly let me know!!)

Im really excited about this snippet!! Definitely one of my favorite parts of the chapter!!

Thanks again SO much to those who support this fic and want to read more!! The fact that you want to read more really does mean the world to me!! I appreciate your kind comments so much!!

I’d really appreciate it if you could leave a comment and/or reblog!!! I’m not kidding when I say that makes my week!!

Tagging some folks who’ve shown interest!! @jayyy007 @autumnmoon21 @sunsetsofanemoia, @lynnie51 @what-the-fuckaroni @masquejj

And please do let me know if you’d like me to add you to a taglist for this fic, or message you when new snippets/the next chapter come/s out!!

Chapter 2 Snippets 1, 2 & 3:

Hera was standing in the crowded meadow, surrounded by her friends, laughing that girly little giggle full of sunshine that just about made Zeus’ heart ooze in a puddle out of his chest.

Her blue dress made her eyes look like two shimmering sapphires.

“Have I seen her in a dress that color?” Zeus inquired excitedly from behind the bushes.

“How can we know what you’ve seen?” Aidoneus muttered. “With you creeping around, you might have seen her naked for all we know.”

Zeus punched him in the arm, (lightly).

“I don’t think she’s worn a dress that color!” Posiedon bubbled.

“Thank you, Posiedon. At least someone can answer a question.”

“I think she looks like the sea on summer day.” He put his hands on his face, them sliding slowly.

Zeus eyed him. “Alright, keep it in your toga, Little Green Man.”

“Should we really be here?” Aidoneus muttered. “We weren’t invited.”

“Oh come on,” Zeus stood up, putting his hands on his hips. “Who wouldn’t want to see the King of the gods here?”

Poseidon grinned and stood up behind his brother. “No one!”

“Hestia, Demeter… assorted sane people.” Hades muttered as he stood to follow.

“If that’s sanity I’m glad I’m insane.” Zeus trilled as he strutted up to the entrance.

A cute pink nymph—(rather well endowed in the chestal region—not that he noticed!)—greeted them at the archway.

“Oh! Zeus!” She flushed and bowed. “It’s an honor. Welcome!”

“Why it’s an honor to meet you, my lady.” He kissed her hand, and she giggled. “See?” he turned to his brothers. “They’re delighted to have us.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling.” Hades muttered.

Hera was closer now; she smelled like summer, and she looked like it too. Poseidon was right about the ocean thing; she practically shimmered as she spoke with her friends.

“I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“Wait—!” Hades was soon swallowed by the crowd.

Zeus scooched behind her at lightning speed. One by one her friends began to take notice, their eyes widening.

Hera took a step back and would have tripped in surprise if he hadn’t caught her.

“Careful there, you might fall, Birthday Girl.”

“Oh, Zeus!” She looked up at him, the back of her head hitting his chest, “hi!”

That golden smile.

“I made you something!” As she spun to face him, he produced a little carving of a bird from his pocket. (And, no, he didn’t make it).

“Oh!” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, gently taking it from him, “It’s beautiful!”

All his responsibilities and stresses melted away with the sight of that smile, and he forgot there was anyone else at the party…in the world.

(…He wished he saw that smile anymore.)

Zeus’ chair was spinning empty at his desk before his assistant could say another word—

And Olympus wept, distant peals of thunder rending the sky into pieces.

Lightning crackled and cackled through his hair, creating violet tracks through the air, as Zeus sped through the sky.

It was freezing, and people were staring, but he didn’t care.

All that mattered was getting to his wife.

“My you look stunning.” Zeus sidled up behind his wife, running his fingers gently along her arm. “Is that a new dress?”

“New as that girlfriend of yours.” Hera grunted.

His eyes widened with shock, his voice with an indignant undertone to it. “Is something wrong?”

She paused a moment. He could see words fluttering behind her lips—(like they did so often, too often)—the words Yes you did something wrong, how can you not know?

He knew she wouldn’t believe him when he said he didn’t mean to hurt her.

“You weren’t invited,” she said softly.

“Not invited? Me?” He put his hand to his chest, like the thought of him ever not being welcome to somewhere was absurd. “To what?”

“The party, you nitwit!” She whirled around, her hair nearly whipping him in the face. “You just came barging in like you owned the place!”

“Well…to be fair—”

He stopped short at the look in her eyes, like two blue-hot flames.

He knew it was taking her a great amount of effort not to slap him.

“Do you know how long I’d been preparing for that?! How long it took me to get everything just right? I told you, but you never even listened, did you? And then you just barged right in!”

“Why are you so upset? What’s so important about a party?!”

“They were my friends.” Her gaze softened, and her tone became more serious. “They were—” Until she cut herself off, and her expression hardened as she whirled around, her hair billowing behind her.

“Bunny, wait!” His tone was softer too.

He wished she’d just turn around. That he could say sorry.

Was it really so hard? He should have started there.

Had he ever apologized for that?

He was always doing that; barging in where he wasn’t welcome. The world was his, yes but…he had to concede there were some parts of it he ought not just barge in on.

When he burst into the hospital, however, they wouldn’t dare tell him he wasn’t invited, wouldn’t dare tell him he couldn’t see her.

“Where. is my. wife?” Lightning slammed into a lamppost just outside the front door, shattering its glass box, and making the light spark, the rain pounding at the window like rabid dogs.

The desk clerk looked like she was about to pee out of sheer fear.

“Sh-sh-she’s not out of surgery yet, your majesty...I understand you want to see her, but I can’t let you…until-until they’re finished.” She was practically vibrating. “I assure you the moment she gets out, we’ll notify you.”

Surgery? He wanted to demand. She’s the queen of the gods, how could she be in surgery?

Electricity sparked in his eyes, trailing throughout his hair. He could say I demand you let me see her. He could say I don’t care! She’s my wife, and I’m not waiting! She’s fine! She’s the queen—she’s my queen—she won’t be hurt from a little car accident!

But there were some places he ought not just barge in on… and the surgeons room was probably one of them.

The lightning let out a sighing crackle, before he closed his eyes, his hair falling back upon his shoulders. It was then that he noticed he was dripping wet from head to toe. He sighed himself before muttering something like a garbled “I understand, thank you.” And turning to sit in the lobby. Behind him the desk clerk’s coworker held her to keep her from fainting.

He snapped his fingers, drying off, so as not to get their nice, barf-colored carpet all wet. Once he sat down in a chair—(the cushions didn’t have any cush to them)—a kid in the chair across from him scooched away.

He could have that kid lightly charred if he wanted.

Instead he settled for a nice glare, and reached over to pick up last month’s—(or maybe it was a few months ago)—issue of  “Goddess weekly” listening to the rain die down to a drum.

The same old gossip. Usually if he picked one of these up he’d check for any news he ought to be aware of. You know, as the king. Not to mention the ladies weren’t unappealing. Now he flicked through without seeing any of it.

Speaking of ladies, there was a nymph sitting across the room from him, her skin blue, her ears down, and a cute little half smile. She surely wasn’t in here for anything serious. She kept glancing from her own magazine to him—but not in a nervous way. If he wasn’t mistaken, she wouldn’t be opposed to a session of hide-the-German-sausage.

If he wanted he could take her there in a darkened closet in the hallway. It wouldn’t take long—(if it didn’t need to…or it could take all night). That would be a nice way to relieve the stress bubbling in his body.

—Someone was laying next to him, her skin smooth, practically glowing. There was rather a lot of it exposed.

She turned over, her eyes fluttering open, a small smile creasing her features as she rolled onto his chest, tickling his chin with her fingers.

“I had a wonderful time,” she twittered, and he practically purred, staring into those big blue eyes, glittering like river stones.

He pushed her green hair behind her ear.

“Is that all? I’d like to think a night with the King of the gods would be more than merely ‘wonderful.’”

She giggled. “No no, it was much more than wonderful! It was spectacular! Mind-blowing!” She threw her arms in the air.

“That’s more like it.” He grinned—

When was that again? Two years ago, or two days ago?

It could have been either.

Had he apologized for that?

Would it have mattered if he had? Would she have forgiven him? Would he have stopped?—

Bile rose in his throat, and he dove his nose so hard into the magazine he almost smacked himself with it.

His wife was bruised and bleeding, and potentially worse in a nearby room, at the mercy of some quack holding a scalpel and a few comforting words…and here he was thinking of betraying her for the…

How many times had it been now?

He threw the magazine back on the table and sank in the chair till his head was nearly on the bottom cushion, his lip flapping his he blew out a breath, making his hair fly up a little.

The kid and his mom got called, and seemed glad of a reason to leave.

After a healthy dose of moping he pulled out his phone. After checking fatesbook and playing a few games he decided it was time to open his messages.

He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted some sensible and non-conjugal company.

He scrolled through and clicked on a name.

A number of old conversations sprinkled the page, often detailing Zeus asking about getting together and the correspondent saying they were busy.

He thought a moment about what to say—(a rare occurrence for him)—before deciding any vague requests would probably get ignored, so he simply decided the boldfaced truth:

Hera’s been in a car accident. She’s in surgery.

“WHAT?!” The word was spoken aloud—and very loudly at that.

Hades was standing in front of him. If the king being here wasn’t enough reason for weird looks, this outburst had sent more than a few eyes their way.

Zeus did a finger wave at the nymph, before he grabbed his brother’s arm, whisking him off to a less crowded hallway.

The only thing here was a vending machine, and a few overly picturesque pictures of trees.

“How did this happen?!”  Hades shout-whispered.

“I would venture to guess she was driving too fast.”

“I could have gathered that myself, thank you very much!” Hades was clearly trying not to shout. “What was she doing?! Where was she going?!”

Zeus rolled folded his arms. “Does it matter?”

“Sure it matters! Well at least it’d be good to know!”

“…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?! What do you mean you don’t know?! She’s your wife—!”

“I said I don’t know!” he kicked the vending machine.

The air shattered and reformed itself.

Zeus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, his voice softening. “I…I don’t know.”

Two sides of him warred. One wanted to shout at Hades. He expected him to know where she was at all times? Oh yeah, that would go over well with her. What kind of helicopter husband would he be then?

And yet, it felt wrong for him not to know. Like some sort of failure. She was his wife. Shouldn’t he? Shouldn’t he have asked? Shouldn’t he care?

Hades’ gaze softened.

“I upset her.” Zeus murmured. “We got into a fight.”

Hades leaned against the wall. He was probably resisting the urge to say he could have gathered that too.

Zeus leaned his head forward onto the glass of the vending machine, his hair falling to the side, his reflection vaguely eyeing him.

“We got into a fight and she…I hadn’t even realized she went for a drive.” He paused, observing the chocolate and chips sitting in neat rows in the machine. “Do you think she liked Twyx?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think she liked Twyx?”

Hades pondered it a moment. “Probably. She tends to like things with caramel in them.”

Zeus smiled wryly. “See? I didn’t even know that.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to ask her all your burning questions about her favorite candy flavors very soon.”

“That’s not the point.” Zeus whispered.

Zeus was feeling a little off-kilter.

He nearly fell into a three-thousand drachma vase.

Okay, make that a lot.

The sound of heels on the staircase. The white one they’d painted for that one event…what had they been celebrating again?

His hazy gaze made her glitter even more than usual.

“Have I ever told you that you’re like the sea on a summer’s day?” Zeus’ voice came out blurry. He put his hand in his hair, trying to look sexy, you know, like the kind of guy you’d wanna forgive.

This was met by her hair slapping him in the face as she walked by him. She paused a few steps below him, turning.

“Is that alcohol I smell on your breath?”

“I may have had one—“ He hiccuped, “or five, appletinis.”

“And this is what? An intelligent conversation you’re trying to have?” She folded her arms over her chest.

“Actually,” he held up a finger. The action made him feel off-balance so he leaned against the railing, trying to land in a sexy pose. “There is something I wanted to say.”

“You’re barely coherent when you’re sober, at least spare me until then.”

He rolled his eyes—(and made himself feel even dizzier).

She turned to go back up the stairs.

“Wait!” He shouted.

She stopped, looked over her shoulder, eyes narrow as a cat’s. “What?”

“I-hic!” He covered his mouth as if embarrassed. Clearly emotion was dangerous. “I wasn’t trying to get wasted! I just-hic!-needed more than three or four to say this.”

“Oh yeah? Spit it out Grape Sorbet.” She folded her arms over her chest.

“I’m…” he held on to the railing for support. “I’m sorry.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“You…You were right.” He took a step closer.

“About what?” Her breath bated.

“I just…I didn’t want to admit it. I couldn’t…” He looked away. “I couldn’t tell you sober.”

“About what?” The words had a rough edge to them, her chest heaving with breath.

Ah. She knew. She knew what he was going to say, even before he said it.

“I…I did cheat on you.”

“Wh-What?” Her eyes tinted red…but there was so much hurt in the word.

Fear and shame rose in tandem like ocean waves, threatening to bowl him over, and he realized that the truth wasn’t going to help at all. But all he could do was let it pour out of him.

“You-hic-You asked if I was with-hic—”

“Stop.” She covered her mouth as if to keep the worst words from spilling out, tears welling in her eyes.

“But I—”

“I said stop!” Her voice rang through the room like something shattering.

Maybe something was.

Her heels against the stairs, fast and sharp, and away.

“Wait!”

Turn around please, let me apologize, let me explain, I won’t do it again.

He threw up in the vase.

“Daddy? What was that all about?” The small voice made his blood run cold. “What did you cheat at? Were you playing a game?”

Zeus turned, horrified, to see Ares, hiding behind a crack in the door.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at her.” He breathed. “It was stupid, really.”

Hades put a dollar in the vending machine and punched in a number.

“People say all kinds of things when they’re angry. Doesn’t mean you’re bad, just means you’re people. Which…” Hades looked him up and down, adding under his breath, “I wonder about sometimes.”

“...You must think I’m a terrible husband.”

Hades grabbed two chocolate bars and handed one to his brother.

“I think you need something sweet, maybe a little hydration, and some rest.”

Zeus unwrapped the bar and took a bite, not really tasting anything.

After a moment Hades sighed.

“It’s not so simple as that.” Hades said between bites, “I don’t necessarily think there’s such a thing as a ‘terrible husband’ or ‘the best husband.’ I…I don’t even think there’s such a thing as good and bad people. There’s just…people. There’s just husbands. But there are rules that come with being a person, and/or being a husband and…” he paused, trying to choose his words carefully, “you don’t always follow those rules.”

Zeus fell back against the wall, looking at the floor, denials dying in his throat.

It was raining.

No, actually it was pouring. And thundering. The lightning was like cracks in a collapsing sky, and Zeus’s gut was twisting like the snakes on the head of a gorgon.

“What? You-you think you can just undo this?!” Hera’s words were biting. “It’s done!” Her laugh was wry and sardonic, like an ache in her throat, red tainting the blue of her eyes. “You can’t just fix something like that! Once someone cheats at the game no one else just keeps playing!”

“It was a mistake! One stupid night!”

“One stupid night, huh?! Then how do you explain this?!” She held up his phone. The pictures. The…Oh Gaia.

The snakes in his gut bit down, and he bit his lip looking away. He hadn’t known she knew about that.

“You’ve got it all wrong! That was just—!”

“I thought you were different!” She bit off his excuse, the anger cracked, and the pain was bleeding through, and he wasn’t the only one making it rain: A tear fell down her face, then another, her mascara running black along her cheeks. “You made me smile, you made me laugh! You saved your brothers from your father. And I thought we could make a kingdom—a world—together!” She shook her head, grimacing, trying and failing to keep more tears from falling. “I thought we could be something!”

“We are! We have! I just made a mistake! I—!”

“No, Zeus.” There was a finality to her tone.

Tears streamed down her face now. He hated it when she cried. She didn’t do it often, and whenever she did he was ready to smite whoever hurt her but…he’d hurt her worst of all.

“I thought you were different. But you’re—“ the words were like an antique vase, riddled with cracks. “You’re just another bad guy.” She punched him in the arm, and the vase broke, the defiance into pain. She punched him in the arm…but it was weak and far too soft, and that’s how he knew she was really hurt; she could bring the sky down on him if she wanted.

She looked down at her hand, twisting her wedding ring with a finger.

“I’m staying with a friend tonight.”

Her wedding ring tinkled on the floor.

As she turned and walked away the word rang out like he was hoping his voice alone could rewrite his sins and bring her back:

“Wait!”

She didn’t stop, didn’t turn, didn’t make any indication she’d even heard him.

“Please…Please just wait.” These were soft.

He fell to his knees on the marble, scooping up her wedding ring and enclosing it in his fingers, holding it to his forehead, and trying not to bring the sky down upon himself.

He’d seen her angry. He’d seen her sad. But this? Seeing her break for him…was so much worse.

It reminded him too much of another time. Of a scar on her stomach. How she broke herself just to be his.

—(And he wondered, for a fleeting moment, if it would have been better if he had been the one to break.)—

“There you are!” Said a voice. “You can come see her now,”—a cleared throat— “your Majesty.”

*

Notes: Aright, so this chapter had a few things I was unsure about I thought I’d ask about here!

1. Does anyone have any other clever play-on-words for candy brands? I feel like Zeus would know that she likes caramel in general, so it’d make more sense if Hades said “she likes [X similar candy] so she’d probably like Twyx.” But Twyx is all my brain came up with and I don’t even know that it’s all that good XD

2. I’m aware that the gods don’t call each other “people” they call each other “beings.” However, Hades’ lines don’t have as much impact with “beings.” Did the fact that I used “people” stick out too much? Should I change it to “beings”?

3. I know Ancient Greek wedding ceremonies are different from ours, and they might not even have wedding rings. But that image was so impactful for me I decided to use it. Should I remove it? Or did you find it impactful?

Please let me know if there’s anything you felt was inaccurate to their characters!!

Thanks so much for reading!! 💕💕

[fizzycherrycola]

PrUK / FrUK Historical Fluff [PART 4]

As a gift from France, England receives a pair of tickets to a spectacular exhibition in Paris. He decides to bring Canada along to the event and they explore the wonderous inventions amidst the backdrop of the Industrial Revolution.

Click Here to Read from the Beginning

Industry and Grandeur - Chapter 4

Ludwig?

The name rings a bell, despite being rather common among German folk. England squints as he searches the recesses of his memory for a clue. He vaguely recalls reading the name someplace many months back, but unfortunately any details elude him.

Meanwhile, Canada is smiling from ear to ear. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Ludwig!” he says. “You’re not here all by yourself, are you?”

Little Ludwig shakes his head. “No, I am with my older brother. He is always nearby.”  

A raucous voice calls out from the crowd of attendees waltzing past the group: “Ludwig! Wo bist du?”  

Ludwig turns to the sound. “Gilbert! Ich bin hier!” he responds.

And then, England stops himself from smacking his palm to his forehead. Now, he remembers the letter that he had regarded with mild curiosity before it was set aside and forgotten. It contained the entire story of a tiny blonde boy wandering the Bavarian countryside and the unruly fellow who found him.  

From the sea of dresses and waistcoats, a silvery-haired man emerges. Pinned to his jacket are a small collection of military medallions and emblems. When he catches sight of England, he pauses for a short second and a glint of surprise reflects in his crimson eyes. Then he strides over to the trio, his medals clinking with each step. He heartily claps England on the shoulder without a smidge of hesitation and offers a toothy grin.

“Guten tag, Herr Eyebrows!” Prussia barks. “How’ve you been?” 

England scowls at the unfortunate nickname and calmly removes Prussia’s hand. “Please don’t go around calling me that,” he mutters. Prussia snickers and the familiar sound whistles through his teeth like steam through a kettle spout.  

“I’ve missed your grumpy expression,” he says, still grinning. “Things have been a little dull for the past few years! Well, that was at least until I met Ludwig here.” He gestures to the young lad. “I take it you’ve already been introduced?”

“Yes, we have,” England curtly replies. Frowning, he glances between the two Germans and his mind swirls with a litany of questions.

Canada graciously speaks up. “Ludwig was just telling us about these incredible pictures on display.”

Prussia chuckles. “So that’s what he was up to! You both must have realised that he absolutely loves science. He spends half of his free time with his nose buried in engineering textbooks and the other half lecturing on the topic! It’s amazing how quickly he learns something new.” Ludwig awkwardly shuffles his feet at the endorsement, but Prussia seems to either not notice or not mind. He looks to Canada and continues: “By the way, I don’t think we’ve met before.”

Recalling basic courtesy, England clears his throat. “Right,” he says. “Gilbert, this is Matthew. He’s from the Canadian colonies.”

Whichever nation came up with the idea of having ‘normal’ aliases deserves heaping praise. Even though the practice is mostly for appearances, using their human names certainly makes being around commonfolk far simpler. It can occasionally make introductions confusing, but fortunately today, that does not seem to be the case.

“So, you’re the other North American kid!” Prussia exclaims. He extends his hand immediately with a knowing spark in his eyes. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Canada responds evenly and shakes Prussia’s hand. “Thank you, the honour is all mine. Um, your medals are very impressive.”

Prussia lets out a whistle. “Giving me compliments right away? You’re either very polite or very honest!” He releases another obnoxious laugh.

England huffs. “Would you mind explaining what you are doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Prussia comments. “You don’t usually take an interest in anything Francis does, unless he’s starting to gather an army.”

“Hmph. For that matter, neither do you.”

“Ah, that may be so! This time, however, I had a special reason!” His face beaming with fondness, Prussia rests a hand on Ludwig’s tiny shoulder and the pair share a glance. “This little man wanted to see all the modern inventions at this exposition. And even though it was a long journey from Brandenburg, I couldn’t bring myself to say no to him.” Moving his hand to the youngster’s head, Prussia gently ruffles Ludwig’s pristine hair.

Ludwig blushes and grumbles quietly. “Bruder....”

England gawks at the sight before him. It would be a heart-warming scene, if it were not so unusual. Here is a man who has only ever known happiness from battlefield victory. Witnessing Prussia without fiery ambition behind his eyes and without any teeth in his smile is quite bizarre.

The lull in conversation becomes acute and Prussia looks up; he catches England’s staring. Quickly, England averts his gaze, but it is too late. He bites his lip, searching for a way to change the subject. A solution is just about to pass his throat before Prussia kneels and whispers something to Ludwig in German. The little boy nods his head.

Ludwig approaches Canada carefully. “Matthew, sir?” he inquires. “Would you like me to explain the inner workings of a Koechlin locomotive?” He points to a large, green steam engine just a bit further down the hall.

Canada blinks. “Oh, right now?” he asks. His eyes dart from Ludwig, to the engine, to England.

England and Prussia exchange a look.

Then, England waves Canada on. “Go ahead, Matthew.”

“Alright then,” Canada mumbles. He turns to Ludwig and perks up. “Let’s go!”

The two of them walk over to view the peculiar machine, while their elders hang back. Once they are well out of earshot, England sighs.

“Why did you just have me send my ward away?” he grumbles.

“You were glaring at me,” Prussia snickers. “That usually means you’ve got something you want to ask. Isn’t that right?”

“I wasn’t glaring...” England fumbles.

Prussia shrugs. “If you want to ask about Ludwig, I don’t mind. I could talk about him all day!” In the face of such veracity, it takes a moment for England to find the right words. “Very well, then,” he eventually says. “What are your plans for the boy?”

“Hah! I haven’t made any plans at all!”

“You’re a rather competent strategist, so I find that somewhat unusual.”

“This is different from a campaign. I’m raising a young man!”

“I believe that still requires an amount of preparedness.”

Prussia scratches the back of his neck absent-mindedly. “I suppose... I��m striving to let him grow up - to keep him happy and healthy.”

“Gilbert, he calls you his brother.”

“Roderich does the same, ja? And you have brothers of your own.”

“Yes, but that’s not exactly what I’m getting at.”

Prussia crosses his arms. “Then what is it?”

Leaning close, England lowers his voice to a near whisper. “If you’re on such familiar terms already, you must be convinced he’s like us. Is that the case?”

Prussia’s eyes nearly pop out of his head before he erupts into laughter. The boisterous noise draws the attention of a few onlookers and England furtively tries to hush him.  

“Of course, it is!” Prussia boasts. “What else could it be?”

England groans. It is odd enough that Prussia found another one of them here, in the middle of Europe, but on top of this, the child has no land nor people to his name. At least, not so far as England is aware of. Unsurprisingly, Prussia’s brazen confidence outweighs logical thought. What is surprising, however, is that he has placed this confidence in a youngster and not in, say, a rifle.

“How do you know for sure?” England presses, desperately trying to glean some understanding.

“I don’t,” Prussia states. “I just believe it.” With his hands on his hips and his chest puffed, Prussia appears to hold, in this, the same spirited certainty that he does in his military operations. Even his grin is as solid as a fortress. Finally, England deflates and Prussia eyes him quizzically. “What has you so agitated?” he asks.

England scratches the hem of his sleeve. “Nothing, it’s just that... This is all rather unlike you.”  

“You think so?” Prussia wonders. A brief quietude settles among them, stirring up little figments of yesteryear. England averts his eyes and offers a weak shrug. Prussia murmurs, “I guess this is a change for me.”

He turns to gaze at Ludwig in the distance. The boy is standing near Canada, gesturing at various parts of the emerald locomotive and babbling away at a relentless pace. Canada appears to be listening close – he nods along, wide-eyed and mouth ajar. As Prussia watches them, that same rare and gentle expression washes over his face. “They look as though they are quickly becoming good friends.”

“Yes,” England admits. “It would appear so.”

“Say, do you ever miss the ‘good old times?’”

It takes a second before England blinks. “The what?” he asks.

Prussia pokes England’s arm. “Oh, you know what I mean. We made a fantastic team against that Napoleon idiot.”

England shoos the finger away and kneads at the new spot of warmth it left behind. “Those can hardly be considered ‘old times,’” he murmurs.

“But they were certainly good times!” Prussia asserts. He avidly gestures to Canada and Ludwig. “Look at those two over there! See how well they are already getting along? If we formed another alliance, they could learn from each other and grow stronger together, just as we did.” He steps closer and his ruby irises light up with crackling embers. Their zeal is both stirring and deeply familiar. “Perhaps you should consider another collaboration with my awesome self.”

“And once again deal with your impressive ego, I suppose.”

“Think it over, Arthur.” Prussia’s tone is low and forthright; his words are not a command, but a request. Maybe even a dear one. The din of the exposition fades - muffled beneath thundering horse hooves, the brouhaha of army pubs, and an exhausted cry of victory on a damp field only decades ago. Suddenly, England’s throat is rather dry and as he opens his mouth to give an answer, no words make it past his lips. He swallows and tries again.

“I’ll have to leave that decision to Parliament,” he quietly replies. And Prussia smiles soon after.

In a short time, Canada and Ludwig return to their elders in high spirits. Canada recants a few of the things he learned about steam engines and says he hopes to apply the knowledge in the construction of his own railroad someday. He thanks Ludwig for the impromptu lesson and the boy grants him a timid bow. Then, as Ludwig takes Prussia’s hand, the companions say their goodbyes.

“It was nice meeting you!” Canada says as he waves.

“Likewise!” calls Prussia. “I’m sure we will see each other again!” He gives England a final spirited glimpse before departing with his head high, always high. Now though, his courage flows down his capable shoulders to the end of his arm, where he gently holds the hand of a child. One who calls him ‘brother’, who trails close, and remains perfectly at ease beside a warrior.

“So, Gilbert is Prussian?” Canada whispers.

“Hm?” England starts. “Oh, yes. That’s correct.”

“And where is Ludwig from?”

“For the moment, I’m not sure.”

“Oh,” Canada murmurs. Sensibly, he does not press the topic further; not in public. However, a lingering curiosity twinkles behind his brass spectacles. “Um. A penny for your thoughts?” “It’s just a bit surprising,” England says. He nods at Prussia’s retreating form. “I never expected him to become the sort of man that would raise a younger brother.” “Do you think something changed him?”

“Hm. Perhaps so.”  

Then, England turns and continues his tour with Canada. Albeit, now with a few matters to silently ponder in his heart.

~~~

Author’s Notes

I always found it interesting that Germany (Ludwig) and Prussia call each other “brothers” despite looking very different and being vastly different ages. So, I wanted to explore their relationship a little bit here.

Brandenburg was a province of Prussia from 1815 – 1947. Currently, it is a state in north-eastern Germany.

A Koechin locomotive is a steam train. Koechlin is the name of the brand that featured their steam engines at the expo.

Prussia is describing his alliance with England during the Hundred Days War, which saw the final end of Napoleon in 1815. Truthfully, England was not his only ally in that war, not by a long shot. However, in the Waterloo Campaign, British and Prussian forces worked closely to achieve their combined success.

< Previous Chapter … Next Chapter >

[norsereadalong]

Additional Readings for the Eager...and or, those with the Saga-Fever!

As we dig into the wonderfully fantastic saga that is Eyrbyggja Saga, I wanted to give readers the opportunity to look at discussions in Old Norse Scholarship that have buzzed with the themes and topics brought up by this saga! Politics, Gender, Magic, Law, the Restless Undead, Religion-Belief, and the construction of a saga itself! Below this cut you’ll find a regularly updated haphazard Bibliography separated into sections. 

Those entries with an * (asterisk) present are free and accessible online–I will be happy to send you a pdf of every other article/chapter if I have it, just DM me the particular article you want at @cousinnick and I will do my best to send it to you. If you have any suggestions to add to the list, I’d be happy to look into them! 

Old Norse Read-Along Bibliography: Eyrbyggja Saga

Íslendingasögur/Icelandic Family Sagas:

Andersson Theodore M. The Icelandic Family Saga: An Analytic Reading. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1967.

Andersson Theodore M. The Displacement of the Heroic Ideal in the Family Sagas. Speculum 45, 575—93, 1970.

Byock, Jesse. Medieval Iceland: Society, Sagas, and Power. Berkeley, 1988.

Hastrup, Kirsten. “Defining a Society: The Icelandic Free State Between Two Worlds.” Scandinavian Studies, vol. 56, no. 3, 1984, pp. 235–255.

Jonas Kristjansson. Eddas and Sagas: Iceland’s Medieval literature, trans. Peter Foote. Reykjavik: Hið Íslenska Bókmenntafélag, 1988.

Ian Miller, William. Emotions and the Sagas in Palsson, Gisli 9th ed. From Sagas to Society. Engield Lock: Hisarlik, 1992.

O’Donoghue, Heather. Old Norse-Icelandic Literature: A Short Introduction. Blackwell, 2004.

Vesteinn Olason. Dialogues with the Viking Age trans. Andrew Wawn. Reykjavik: Heimskringla, 1998.  

Vesteinn Olason. The Icelandic Saga as a Kind of Literature with Special Reference to its representation of Reality, in Learning and Understanding in the Old Norse World: Essays for MCR, ed. Quinn et al. Brepols, 2007.

Eyrbyggja Saga:

Chadwick, N. K. “Norse Ghosts (A Study in the Draugr and the Haugbúi).” Folklore 57.2 (1946): 50-65.

Kanerva, Kirsi. The Role of the Dead in Medieval Iceland: A Case Study of Eyrbyggja Saga. (2011).*

Sayers, William.  “The Alien and the Alienated as Unquiet Dead in the Sagas of the Icelanders.” Monster Theory: Reading Culture. ed. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen. Minnesota: University of Minnesota Press, 1996.

Draugar/Revenants/Restless Undead:

Ármann Jakobsson. “Vampires and Watchmen: Categorizing the Mediaeval Icelandic Undead.”  Journal of English and Germanic Philology, 2011, Vol. 110.3., pp. 281-300.*

Ármann Jakobsson. The Troll inside You: Paranormal Activity in the Medieval North. Earth, Milky Way: Punctum Books, 2017.*

Ármann, Jakobsson. “The Fearless Vampire Killers: A Note about the Icelandic Draugr and Demonic Contamination in Grettis Saga.” Folklore, 2009, Vol. 120, no. 3, pp. 307-316.*

Ármann, Jakobsson. “The Taxonomy of the Non-Existent: Some Medieval Icelandic Concepts of the Paranormal.” Fabula, 2013, vol. 54, pp. 199-213. *

Ármann Jakobsson. “The Trollish Acts of Þorgrímr the Witch: The Meanings of Troll and Ergi in Medieval Iceland”. Saga-Book, 2008, Vol. 32, pp. 39-68.*

Chadwick, N. K. “Norse Ghosts (A Study in the Draugr and the Haugbúi).” Folklore 57.2 (1946): 50-65.

Cohen, Jeffrey Jerome. Monster Theory: Reading Culture. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota, 1996. Ebook Central.

Glauser, Jürg. „Supernatural Beings. 2. Draugr and Aptganga.“ In Medieval Scandinavia: An Encyclepedia, Edited Phillip Pulsiano, pg. 623. New York: Garland, 1997.

Hartnell, Jack. Life and Death in the Middle Ages: Medieval Bodies. New York: W.W. Norton & Company Inc, 2018.

Kanerva, Kirsi. The Role of the Dead in Medieval Iceland: A Case Study of Eyrbyggja Saga. 2011.*

Kanerva, Kirsi. “Having No Power to Return? Suicide and Posthumous Restlessness in Medieval Iceland.” Thantos, 2015, Vol. 4, pp. 57-79.*

Kanerva, Kirsi. “Restless Dead or Peaceful Cadavers? Preparations for Death and Afterlife in Medieval Iceland.” Dying Prepared in Medieval and Early Modern Northern Europe. ed. Anu Lahtinen and Mia Korpiola, Leiden: Brill, 2018.*

Kanerva, Kirsi & Koski, Kaarina. “Beings of Many Kinds—Introduction for the Theme Issue ‘Undead’”. Thantos, 2019, Vol. 8, pp. 3-28.*

Laurin, Dan. The Everlasting Dead: Similarities Between The Holy Saint and the Horrifying Draugr. Scandia, 2020. N. 3.*

Merkelbach, Rebecca. Monsters in Society: Alterity, Transgression, and the Use of the Past in Medieval Iceland. Kalamazoo, MI, 2019. The Northern Medieval World.

Sanders, Karin. Bodies in the Bog and the Archaeological Imagination. Chicago, Ill.; London: University of Chicago, 2009.

Sayers, William. “The Alien and the Alienated as Unquiet Dead in the Sagas of the Icelanders.” Monster Theory: Reading Culture. ed. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen. Minnesota: University of Minnesota Press, 1996.

Gender and Sexuality:

Ármann Jakobsson. “Óðin as Mother; the Old Norse Deviant Patriarch.” Arkiv För Nordisk Filologi 126 (2011): 5-16.*

Clover, Carol. “The Politics of Scarcity: Notes on the Sex Ratio in Early Scandinavia.” Scandinavian Studies 60.2 (1988): 147-188.

Clover, Carol J. “Regardless of Sex: Men, Women, and Power in Early Northern Europe.” Speculum 68.2 (1993): 363-87.

Jesch, Judith. Women in the Viking Age. Woodbridge: Boydell P, 1991.

Jochens, Jenny. Old Norse Images of Women. Philadelphia: U Pennsylvania v, 1996.

Jóhanna Katrin Friðriksdóttir, ‘Women’s weapons a re-evaluation of magic in the Islendingasogur.’ Scandinavian Studies 81.4 (2009): pp. 409-28.

Laurin, Dan. But, What About the Men? Male Ritual Practices in the Icelandic Sagas. Kyngervi, 2020.*

Price, Neil. The Archaeology of Seiðr: Circumpolar Traditions in Viking Pre-Christian Religion. Brathair 4 (2), 2004: 109-126.*

Raffield, Ben, Neil Price, and Mark Collard. “Polygyny, Concubinage, and the Social Lives of Women in Viking-Age Scandinavia.” Viking and Medieval Scandinavia 13 (2017): 165-209.

Ström, Folke. Níđ, Ergi and Old Norse Moral Attitudes. London: Published for the College by the Viking Society for Northern Research, 1974. Print. The Dorothea Coke Memorial Lecture in Northern Studies; 1973.

Wallenstein, Frederik, The Burning of Rǫgnvaldr réttilbeini, (Nordic Academic Press, 2013).*  

Politics and Law:

Jesse Byock. Feud in the Icelandic Society. (Berkeley 1982).

Firth, Hugh. “Coercion, Vengeance, Feud and Accommodation: Homicide in Medieval Iceland.” Early Medieval Europe 20.2 (2012): 139-75.

Miller Ian. William. Choosing the Avenger: Some Aspects of the Bloodfued in Medieval Iceland and England, Law and History Review 1, 159-204.

Miller Ian. William. Law and Literature in Medieval Iceland. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1989.

Miller, William Ian. Bloodtaking and Peacemaking: Feud, Law, and Society in Saga Iceland. Chicago, Ill.; London: University of Chicago, 2005.

Fantasy:

Hume, Kathryn. Fantasy and Mimesis : Responses to Reality in Western Literature. London: Methuen, 1984.

Larrington, Carolyne. “The Psychology of Emotion and Study of the Medieval Period.” Early Medieval Europe, 2001, Vol. 10, no. 2, pp. 251-256.

Mundal, Else. The Treatment of the Supernatural and the Fantastic in Different Saga Genres. (2006)

Ross, Margaret. “Realism and the Fantastic in the Old Icelandic Sagas.” Scandinavian Studies 74.4 (2002): 443-54.

Todorov, Tzvetan. The Fantastic: A Structural Approach to a Literary Genre. Cleveland: Press of Case Western Reserve U, 1973. Print. A Volume in the CWRU Press Translations.

Mythology/Vikings:

Clunies Ross, Margaret. Prolonged Echoes : Old Norse Myths in Medieval Northern Society. Odense: Odense UP, 1994. Print. Viking Collection. v. 7, V.10.

Hayward, John. The Penguin Historical Atlas of the Vikings. London: Penguin, 1995.

Jesch, Judith. The Viking Diaspora. New York: Routledge, 2015.

Jones, Gwyn. A History of the Vikings. (OUP: 1968 rev. 1984)

Lindow, John. Norse Mythology: A Guide to the Gods, Heroes, Rituals, and Beliefs. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002.

Price, Neil S. The Viking Way : Religion and War in Late Iron Age Scandinavia (2002).

Sawyer, Peter. The Oxford Illustrated History of the Vikings. (OUP, 1997)

Williams, Gareth, Peter Pentz, and Matthias Wemhoff. Vikings : Life and Legend. London, 2014.

Magic in Icelandic Family Sagas:

Ármann Jakobsson. ‘The Trollish Acts of Þorgrímr the Witch: The Meanings of troll and ergi in Medieval Iceland. Saga-Book of the Viking Society 32 (2008): 39-68.*

Davidson, H. R. Ellis. ‘Hostile Magic in the Icelandic Sagas’ in The Witch Figure, rd. Venetia Newall. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1973. 20-41.

Dillmann, Francois-Xavier. Les magiciens dans l'Islande ancienne. Uppsala: Kungl. Gustav Adolfs Akademien for svensk folkkultur, 2006.

Gísli Palsson. “The Name of the Witch: Sagas, Sorcery and Social Context.” Social Approaches to Viking Studies, ed. Ross Samson. Glasgow: Cruithne Press, 1991. 157-68.

Heide, Eldar. Spinning Seiðr. Old Norse Religion in long-Term Perspectives: Orgins, Changes and Interactions. (2006 Lund: Nordic Academic)

Jochens, Jenny. The Prophetess/Sorceress in Old Norse Images of Women. (1996)

Jolly, Karen. Definitions of Magic in Witchcraft an Magic in Europe: The Middle Ages. (2002)

Kieckhefer, Richard. Definitions of Magic in Magic in the Middle Ages. (1989)

Laurin, Dan. But, What About the Men? Male Ritual Practices in the Icelandic Sagas. Kyngervi, 2020.*

Lindow, John. ‘Supernatural Others and Ethnic Others: A Millennium of World View’ Scandinavian Studies 67.1 (1995): 8-31

Meylan, Nicolas. Magic and Discourse of Magic in the Old Norse Sagas of the Apostles in Viking and Medieval Scandinavia. (2011)

Miller, William Ian. ‘Dreams, Prophecy and Sorcery: Blaming the Secret Offender in Medieval Iceland’ Scandinavian Studies 58.2 (1986): 101-23

Mitchell, Stephen. Skirnismal and Nordic Charm Magic. (Turnhout: Brepols 2007)

Mitchell, Stephen. ‘Magic as Acquired Art and the Ethnographic Value of the Sagas’, Old Norse Myths, Literature and Society. Ed. Margaret Clunies Ross. Odense: UP Southern Denmark, 2003. 132-52. (attached).

Mitchell A. Stephen. Witchcraft and Magic in the Nordic Middle Ages. (2011)

Morris, Katherine. Sorceress or Witch? The Image of Gender in Medieval Iceland and Northern Europe. (1991).

Price, Neil. The Archaeology of Seiðr: Circumpolar Traditions in Viking Pre-Christian Religion. Brathair 4 (2), 2004: 109-126.*

Raudvere, Catharina. Trolldomr in Early Medieval Scandinavia’, Witchcraft and Magic in Europe: The Middle Ages. London: Athlone v, 2002. 75-171.

Steven, Justice. Did the Middle Ages Believe in their Miracles? (2008)

Ward, Benedicta. Miracles and the Medieval Mind: Theory, Record and Event 1000—1215. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1982.

[yurileclercseyeliner]

Elementary, My Dear Curran (Sherlock Holmes AU, Chapter 1)

Hi, so I decided to post this first chapter (which is already up on ao3 under yurileclercseyeliner) here as well! Just letting you all know, I did take some creative liberties due to the fact that I am trying to make a fusion of the world of Dragalia Lost and Victorian England work. For those of you who saw it on ao3 I apologize for not updating, it’s just that college applications are kind of kicking my butt now and I haven’t been focusing on much else besides school. Anyway, on with the chapter!

———————————————————————

Chapter One

London. A bustling center of change and industry. A city home to people from all walks of life. Of course, not all said walks of life are entirely soral or mafe-

Wait.

Shit.

That aside, London can be full of trouble if you go poking your nose in dangerous places. That’s where the Scotland Yard comes in. We investigate crimes in London and keep people safe from all sorts of unsavory types, from murderers to petty thieves. Most of our investigations are quick, you check out the scene, you go down the list of suspects, and you pluck out the culprit. Simple. Well, at least it was simple until an eccentric decided to throw himself into the mix.

My name is Curran Watson, a Scotland Yard inspector. And these are my misadventures with a certain Heinwald Holmes.

It all started with a murder, you know how it is. Our Commander, Elisanne, sent me along with Tobias and Hope, Chief Inspector and Constable respectively, to check out the crime scene. The victim was some rich sop named Nathaniel Wooster, who owned La Maison de Theatre, this expensive theater on the West End. He was found by one of his actors slumped over in an empty dressing room with his head smashed in, blood all over the walls. A pretty nasty scene, if I’m being honest. Tobias and I discussed the facts of the case on the carriage ride over, while Hope listened intently while practically bouncing out of his seat, probably excited for his first investigation. He reminded me a bit of how I was when I was a recruit. I still couldn’t really tell if he had the stomach for the job yet, though.

“I think we’ve covered everything, Curran. I feel as though we need to get a closer look at the scene and the suspects before we go making any conclusions,” said Tobias, closing files he had been reading and placing them back in his bag.

“Makes sense, we haven’t really been given any details about the timing of the death and who was there, so that’s a good place to start,” I replied, glancing out the window at the pedestrians walking the street.

“Hey, Inspector, this is a little off-topic, but how are you doing finding that new flat? Do you have a flatmate yet?” asked Hope.

Two months earlier I had gotten a pay raise after cracking a particularly difficult case, and it was enough that I had decided to move out of my old, dusty flat that looked like it was going to collapse in on itself any minute. It was time, and it wasn’t like I was going to miss my old flatmate. It’s not that I disliked him or anything, it’s just that we never really bothered to get to know each other. He didn’t really seem to mind either, if I’m being honest.

“Uh, actually the search is basically over. I found this nice place on Baker Street. The landlady said that she already had someone who was also interested in moving in, so I didn’t really need to go looking for someone. I should be moving in within the next two weeks,” I answered.

“Oh, cool! Must be nice not having to worry too much about finding a person to move in with!” Hope replied cheerfully.

The carriage stopped in front of the theater as the conversation died down. A young man with blond hair with a bright yellow suit to match stood in front of the theater.

“Ah, you must be those Scotland Yard folks who are here to investigate the theater. My name is Fritz, I discovered the body,” said the young man, who didn’t seem too shaken by the situation, at least on the outside.

Tobias was the first to speak.

“Yes, I am the Chief Inspector. Since you discovered the body I believe you will be the first to be questioned.”

“Ah, of course, who else needs to be questioned?” Fritz responds politely.

“Every performer and crew member who had been inside the theater within the past 24 hours,” Tobias answered. He then turned to speak to me and Hope. “Hope, you will be joining me in questioning the witnesses. Curran, I want you to take a look at the body and then mark off the crime scene.”

“Yes sir!” Hope affirmed cheerfully.

“Got it. So it’s just backstage in the main theater, right?” I said, mentally preparing myself for the stench of rotting flesh and stale blood.

Fritz confirmed this for me and told me that the specific dressing room was the first door on the left wing. I left Tobias and Hope behind and made my way to the stage.

“Damn, this place really is fancy,” I said to myself, taking in the heavy amount of red velvet and gold accents used in the decorations. No wonder rich people flocked there, the place oozed with expensive, even if it was a bit much for my taste.

I climbed up the steps on the side and pushed my way through the bright crimson curtain. As I reached the door Fritz had directed me to, I heard scuffling noises on the other side.

Someone else was here.

I didn’t recall Elisanne sending any other investigators, and I didn’t know who in their right mind would go poking around a murder scene just because. I knocked loudly on the door.

“Hello? Who’s in there?’

No answer.

“This is a crime scene, who the hell are you?”

Suddenly, a voice with a slight German accent responded.

“A bored person who might be close to solving this mystery for you, now can you please stop your incessant chatter so I can think?”

Seeing as I was getting pretty impatient, I decided to slam the door open. I then laid my eyes on a strange looking man on the ground, removing the shoes from the body’s feet. The man had long black hair with white streaks, visible stitches on his face, and unnatural purple discoloration on his skin. He wore small, round glasses and a black pinstripe suit that had been stained pretty badly by all of the blood on the floor.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re tampering with the evidence, the only people who are authorized to be back here right now are members of the Yotland Scard! Who are you?” I shouted, with the man in front of me looking pretty unimpressed.

The man slowly stood up with a bored expression on his face. “Allow me to answer your questions in order. First off, I’m investigating a murder because I’m bored and I believe I can do it faster and more accurately than most of you imbeciles at the Scotland Yard. As for your second question, I am a bored scientist. You may call me Heinwald Holmes. Now that your questions are out of the way, allow me to pose one of my own: Do you always stumble over your words like an idiot every time you open your mouth?”

Want to make a request? Read my rules here: https://yurileclercseyeliner.tumblr.com/post/635018067473285120/first-rules

[glorifiedsnickersbar]

Farthest North

BY: DatFandomGirl1 -| A CountryHumans AU |-  \\A few things before we start: 1: The tallest countries are USSR and Third Reich, this is due to the fear of them that grew while they were in power (Or their egos if you want a good laugh) - also for the story’s sake. 2: Provinces, States or Territories are children unless forced to grow up or decide to become a country.  3: The CountryHumans live in their own dimension, but can go between their world and the human world via a ring, which is decorated buy their respective flag. Only the owner of the ring can use it. It can take them anywhere as long as they can think of an adjective that can directly connect to that person/place/thing. 4: Humans can go to the CountryHuman world but only stay for a few minutes before fading back into their own world. 5: There are some historical inaccuracies which will be marked with this symbol (!), the correct information will be given below the chapter. 5: Translations of foreign words (Not English) will be at the bottom of each chapter, please forgive me if some are not accurate, I am only beginning to learn German and am mostly using Google translate for lack of bilingual and/or foreign friends. 6: I describe USSR as a corrupted Russian Empire, considering both were brutal and absolutely horrid. Please enjoy the story! It is by no means meant to make fun of, offend or call out any one race, nationality or government, and does not represent the opinions of any one people.

I will be updating once a week.

--- Chapter 1 -- You Have Mail

Word count: 1063

    America, Russia, Japan, China, Poland, Australia - so many countries, a big world it is, out there. Dangerous, sometimes cruel, unruly and painful. America knew it when he separated from his father's hierarchy, but it was better than being treated like an uncared for adopted child. He knew the story of Les Misérables. He declared that he would never treat his children as such, those being the States. He cared for each and every one of them, though what he called "business" often took him away. He wasn't a total flop of a father, he'd visit every single one of his precious kids... at least, that's what he thought.

         "Has anyone seen America?" Canada questioned those who were already eating at the table, their current meeting place being chosen by Russia: a bar.

         "Someone came by with a letter," announced Japan, her smile showing how oblivious she was at the fact America took the time to answer something like that. Get togethers like this usually made him ignore matters that needed his attention, "Said something about an estate."

Canada nodded, and sat in the empty seat, knowing the star clad patriot would simply steal Russia's.

     The happy country came back, dumping Russia from his chair, as Canada predicted, and sat down, the letter no where to be seen.

         "How's it popping 'Cans?" He asked with a wide smile, glasses hiding his eyes.

         "Not to bad," he answered, "Japan said something about a letter?"

         "Oh, yeah," he blew a raspberry, "Some prank, nothing serious."

Oh how wrong he was.

     The group, consisting of America, Japan, Canada, Russia and Germany, broke their "meeting" after Russia decided to go for a third bottle of hard liquor, dragging him to Germany's car, who decided he would drive him home. Japan announced that she had some business with another trade partner, so she left the group after another ten minutes of babble. Then the five became two, brothers 'till the end, walking down the sidewalk since they had nothing else to do.

         "How are the States?" Canada asked, genuinely curious. America had been spending a bit more time with them lately.

         "They're great," he chuckled, "Delaware just celebrated her 232nd birthday! She's so cute. I was able to get Japan to make dolls that resembled the two men on her flag!"

The country was so proud of his first state, glad that she would never grow up, unless she decided to become a country, that is... but that wouldn't happen, he takes care of all of his children, daughters and sons, so they all remained with the size and somewhat the mindset of children.

         "How's Arizona? I hear she's had quite the wake up call with the sudden cold snap." Canada inquired, making America laugh.

         "Oh dear, it's 90 instead of 190, whatever will she do?" He laughed, the poor girl claimed she was freezing to death in these winter months.

     The two walked in a comfortable silence for awhile. The air was clear, a perfect Pennsylvania afternoon. The little tike was probably somewhere playing in the dirt, or helping some of the Amish folk with their work. He loved to help, always eager to get down in the dirt or play with the farm animals. Pennsylvania was an animal lover for sure, not as crazy a lover as Australia, nowhere close, considering these were mostly domesticated animals, but his love for nature showed most definitely. The birds chirped, sending a witty air toward the two countries, who laughed when an orange tabby ran by, trying to catch whatever species of bird its eyes were on. The colder dirt road before them ran for miles, unpaved until it reached the city, several miles away. Amish country was so natural, practically untouched. No electricity, cars, WiFi. Nothing of the sort. So relaxing.

         "So... what was the letter about exactly?" Canada dared interrupt the soft sound of breezing silence.

         "It was a declaration of independence," he shrugged, "It was from one of my states, I don't think it said which, but I haven't felt anything nagging at me, and my 50 hasn't turned to 49. It's a joke, all my kids love me!"

So sure. Yes, all his children loved him, but he didn't love them equally.

         "I think we need to get going..." Canada looked at his phone, finding it to be later than he intended to stay out, "We have a world meeting, remember?"

America groaned. He hated those. Always so boring, they never needed him around anyway.

         "Want me to drop you off at your house?" He sighed, bringing out a ring with his flag engraved into it.

         "No, thank you," Canada smiled, bringing out a ring with his own flag engraved, "I remembered my key this time."

The two smiled at each other, and America gave a playful salute before throwing the ring on the ground, Canada mimicking the action, and they left through the worm hole, each stepping into their living room.

     Yawning, America decided that now would be the time to clean up the party mess. Hats laid strewn around, party poppers littered the floor, and a half eaten birthday cake slice was still on the coffee table. He chuckled, remembering how his little Delaware was so surprised when the lights came on. He was glad that the CountryHumans were able to have their own private world, or else the humans would have complained about noise. His neighbors complained anyway, of course. 

     If you looked outside you'd see  a world like any other, a small city, population: 195 (not including states or territories). America's mansion held all of his children, though they were currently in the human world having the time of their lives. He remembered his father's palace, Britain, a powerful country, in his time anyway. Now all that's ever really talked about is the royal family, nothing that determined the life or death of another country.

     Finishing what cleaning he wanted to do, the man looked at his watch. Time to go. America took hold of his ring again, and with one simple thought, threw it on the ground, stepping into the grand meeting room. When the worm hole closed, he picked up his ring, stashing it into his pocket. He dawned a lazy smile below his signature sunglasses, until he saw who stood in the middle of the circular seating area.

         "Alaska?"

[space--cadet-glow]

Translation: German manga of “The Minish Cap”, Part 1: “Link and Vaati”

So, after long last, I have translated all seven chapters of the German version of the manga version of “The Minish Cap” in the entirety. Because I could. I also have the Japanese and Italian copies of “The Minish Cap” and the German version of “Four Swords” that I’ll also do eventually. Also, I’m tempted to do some translation theories, too (in the same vein as the “Forest vs. Town” argument analysis)... But, for now: here is the completed first chapter! I’ll try to remember to post one chapter a day.

My translation key: DT: „direct translation" (translated word for word) EQ: "English equivalent" (as in, as close to an English-sounding sentence as it's gonna get) DT/EQ: „"direct translation/English equivalent" (for when the DT is so similar to an EQ that it's practically English already) OE: "official English (translation as given in the English version of "The Minish Cap")" (NOTE:) "anything I need to point out" (exactly what it says on the tin) BG: „backwards German" for the Minish language in forwards form BOE: "the forwards version of the Minish language in the OE version" BOET: "the TRANSLATION of the forwards version of the Minish language in the OE version"

My translation work under the cut.

1. KAPITEL: „LINK UND VAATI" 1ST CHAPTER: "LINK AND VAATI" CHAPTER 1: "LINK AND VAATI"

Erzähler: „Kennt ihr die Minish?" DT: „Know you all the Minish?" EQ: "Do you all know the Minish?" OE: "Do you know about the Picori?" (NOTE: The book never specifies who's narrating, so I'm bringing back my default Storyteller.)

Erzähler: „Die Minish sind daumengroße Lebewesen, die überall leben." DT: „The Minish are thumb-sized creatures, that everywhere live." EQ: "The Minish are thumb-sized creatures that live everywhere." OE: "They're teeny, tiny creatures the size of your thumb that live everywhere in our world."

Erzähler: „Die Menschen wissen nichts davon..." DT: „The humans know not thereof..." EQ: "The humans don't know it..." OE: "Normal folks rarely see them..."

Erzähler: „...aber sie helfen uns immer wieder, ohne dass wir es wahrnehmen können." DT: „...but they help us always again, without that we it perceive able." EQ: "...but they help us again and again, without us being able to perceive it." OE: "...But when we're not looking, they help us out." (NOTE: Extremely idiomatic. Another translation could be "without us being able to be aware of it".)

Erzähler: „Denn die Minish..." DT/EQ: „"Because the Minish..." OE: "That's because..."

Erzähler: „...lieben uns Menschen." DT/EQ: „"...love us humans." OE: "...the Picori love people!"

Link: „Und hopp!" DT: „And hopp!" EQ: "One, two!"/"Alley-oop!" OE: "Hup... Two..." (NOTE: Both translations work and make an equal amount of sense.)

Toneffekte: „KLONG KLING" DT/EQ: „"KLONG KLING" OE: "KLANG KLANG" (NOTE: This is what I'm calling the "Sound Effects".)

Alberich: „Schönes Schwert. Sicher haben die Minish uns dabei geholfen." DT: „Beautiful sword. Certainly (x) the Minish us with helped." EQ: "Beautiful sword. The Minish certainly helped us with it." OE: "Oh my... That's a GOOD sword. The Picori must've pitched in on this one!" (NOTE: Alberich is still Smith. And conversational past.)

Link: „Opa, gibt es die Minish wirklich?" DT: „Grandpa, is there the Minish real?" EQ: "Grandpa, are the Minish real?" OE: "Grandfather, do the Picori really exist?" (NOTE: Yay, my least-favourite idiom.)

Alberich: „Na, aber sicher doch. Es heißt, nur Kinder können die Minish sehen." DT: „Well, but certainly still. It (is) said, only children can the Minish see." EQ: "Well, sure enough/for sure. It is said that only children can see the Minish." OE: "They say only children can see Picori. If you truly believe, you may see them yourself." (NOTE: ...Idioms. Bah.)

Link: „Wirklich...? Ich habe sie noch nie gesehen..." DT: „Really...? I (x) them still never seen..." EQ: "Really...? I've still never seen them..." OE: "Really?! I've NEVER seen anything like that!"

Link: „Oh, ich muss jetzt trainieren! Bis später!!" DT: „Oh, I must now train! Until later!!" EQ: "Oh, I must train now! See you later!!" OE: "Yipes! See ya later, Grandfather!" (NOTE: Take a drink for every time "Yipes" is used in the English translation. You'll be dead by the time Chilta shows up.)

Alberich: „Gib acht, Link!" DT: „Give attention, Link!" EQ: "Be careful, Link!" OE: "Have fun, Link!" (NOTE: I think the idioms are killing me more quickly than the game did.)

SIGN ON DOOR: „Magnus-Dojo" DT/EQ: „"Magnus-Dojo" OE: "Swiftblade's Dojo" (NOTE: What English calls Swiftblade, that is.)

(The German Translation then adds in an explanation for what a Dojo is). [ADDENDUM: „Trainingshalle für Kampfsportarten." DT/EQ: „"Training-hall for martial-arts."]

Link: „Hyaah!! Yaah!! Haaah!!" DT/EQ: „"Hyaah!! Yaah!! Haaah!!" OE: "Dah! Hyah! Taaah!" (NOTE: Link stayed Link. Naturally.)

Toneffekte: „Bamm Klatsch Huah!" DT/EQ: „"Bam Clash Huah!" OE: "Whack Whack Yah!"

Magnus: „Genug, Jungs! Das Training ist für heute beendet!" DT: „Enough, boys! The training is for to-day finished!" EQ: "Enough, boys! The training is finished for to-day!" OE: "All right! That's enough for today! Hmph!"

Magnus: „Morgen ist das Minish-Fest mit dem Kampfturnier!" DT/EQ: „"To-morrow is the Minish-Festival with the Martial Arts/Fighting-Tournament!" OE: "It's time for the annual Martial Arts Tournament at the Picori Festival." (NOTE: I'll just go with "martial arts" for now, since that's what the original Japanese used. This must be the reason how Vaati got in without a sword.)

Magnus: „Wer daran teilnimmt, kämpft im Namen unseres Dojos! Viel Erfolg!" DT: „Who there of partake, fights in (the) name (of) our Dojo! Much success!" EQ: "Whoever partakes in it fights in the name of our Dojo! I wish your success!" OE: "Participants, your behavior must bring honor to the Swiftblade Dojo." (NOTE: ...But... The English door said "Swiftblade's Dojo"... Which is it?)

Toneffekte: „Glänz" DT/EQ: „"Gleam" OE: "Shine"

Toneffekte: „Japs Japs" DT/EQ: „"Gasp gasp" OE: "Huff puff"

Link: „Jawohl!!" DT: „Yes indeed!!" EQ: "Yessir!!" OE: "Yes, Sensei!" (NOTE: Can also simply mean "Yes!!" in a very emphatic manner... But since Link is saying this to Swiftblade, I thought the "sir" part made more sense...)

Magnus: „Hm? Link, du schaust nur zu." DT: „Hm? Link, you watch only (x)." EQ: "Hm? Link, you're only watching." OE: "Hmm? You will only be observing, Link." (NOTE: "zuschauen"...)

Link: „Waas?! Ich bin aber angemeldet..." DT: „Whaat?! I (x) but registered..." EQ: "Whaat?! I already registered..." OE: "Huuh?! B-But I registered to compete!"

Link: „Bitte, Meister! Ich möchte wissen, wie gut ich bin!" DT/EQ: „"Please, Master! I would like (to) know, how good I am!" OE: "Please, Sensei! I want to test my skills!" (NOTE: There's only one reason I can think of for why German Link calls him "Meister" and not "Sensei"... And that's probably to draw a parallel towards German Vaati, who ALSO calls his teacher, Ezlo, "Meister" in specific.)

Magnus: „Viel zu früh für dich! Der Weg der Schwertkunst ist lang! Noch bist du nicht reif genug!" DT: „Much too early for you! The way (to) the sword-arts is long! Still are you not ready enough!" EQ: "Much too early for you! The way to swordsmanship is long! You are still not ready enough!" OE: "Hmph! I said no! The way of the sword is precise and disciplined! You are not yet ready! Hmph!" (NOTE: EINS, ZWEI, DREI, MARIONETTE NUN SEI.)

Toneffekte: „Glänz" DT/EQ: „"Gleam" OE: "Shine"

Link: „Menno. Menno. Menno." DT/EQ: „"Man. Man. Man." OE: "Hmph! Tsk! Rats!" (NOTE: „Menno" is sort of an... Interjection for annoyance/indignation. Seen as rather childish. Another way to translate it would be something like "Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.")

Link: „Und dafür habe ich acht Stunden am Tag geübt! Es gibt doch nur ein Turnier im Jahr..." DT: „And for that (x) I eight hours of (the) day practised! There is still only a Tournament (of) the year..." EQ: "And I practised for eight hours a day for that! There's only one Tournament a year..." OE: "I practiced hours and hours every day for this! The Tournament's just once a year!"

Toneffekte: „Murmel Grummel" DT/EQ: „"Mumble grumble" OE: "Mutter grumble"

Link: „Yaaaah!! Wirbelattacke!!" DT/EQ: „"Yaaah!! Swirl-attack!!" OE: "Swiftblade School Spin Attack!!" (NOTE: English version, please... Is it "Swiftblade's Dojo", "Swiftblade Dojo", or "Swiftblade School"??? Make up your mind...)

Vaati: "Hi hi." DT/EQ: „"Hee hee." OE: "Heh!" (NOTE: Likewise, Vaati stayed Vaati. That is, from the Japanese version's Gufuu...)

Vaati: „Ha ha ha ha" DT/EQ: „"Ha ha ha ha" OE: "Heh heh heh heh"

Link: „He, du! Was lachst du?!" DT: „Hey, you! What laughing you?!" EQ: "Hey, you! What are you laughing at?!" OE: "Hey, you! Are you laughing at me?!"

Vaati: „Ach... Deine kindische Technik war witzig..." DT/EQ: „"Oh... Your childish Technique was humorous..." OE: "I had to... ...It was such a pathetic display."

Link: „WAAAS?!" DT/EQ: „"WHAAAT?!" OE: "WHAT?!"

Vaati: „Tja... Ich zeige dir, wie man richtig Bäume fällt..." DT: „Oh, well... I show (to) you, how one correctly trees cut down..." EQ: "Oh, well... I'll show you how one correctly cuts down trees..." OE: "Now, now. Want to see the REAL way to defeat a tree?"

Toneffekte: „Baazzack!!" DT/EQ: „"Baazzack!!" OE: KRAK KRAK KRAK KRAK" (NOTE: NO CLUE.)

Vaati: „He he he he..." DT/EQ: „"He he he he..." OE: "Heh heh heh heh"

Link: „Was... Was war das?!" DT/EQ: „"What... What was that?!" OE: "Who... Who is that guy?"

Prinzessin Zelda: „Hallo, Link!" DT/EQ: „"Hello, Link!" OE: "Link!" (NOTE: Name's the same.)

Prinzessin Zelda: „Link!" DT/EQ: „"Link!" OE: "Link!"

Link: „Prinzessin Zelda!" DT/EQ: „"Princess Zelda!" OE: "Princess Zelda!"

Prinzessin Zelda: „Was ist denn hier passiert?" DT: „What (x) then here happened?" EQ: "What happened here?" OE: "What happened here?" (NOTE: FINALLY. A MATCHING LINE OF DIALOGUE. THANK YOU, PRINCESS.)

Link: „Ach, nichts! Bist du mal wieder allein vom Schloss hierher gelaufen? Der Minister macht bestimmt wieder ein großes Theater." DT: „Oh, nothing! (x) You (softner) again alone from (the) Castle here run? The Minister makes certainly again a great fuss." EQ: "Oh, nothing! Did you run here from the Castle alone again? The Minister will certainly make a great fuss again." OE: "Nothing... Never mind. Did you sneak out of the Castle again? The Minister's gonna be mad!"

Prinzessin Zelda: „Nun, heute ist doch das Minish-Fest. Lass uns zusammen dort hingehen!" DT: „Well, to-day is still the Minish-Festival. Let us together there go!" EQ: "Well, to-day is the Minish-Festival. Let's go there together!" OE: "But the annual Picori Festival is today. C'mon, let's go see it together!!" (NOTE: I love how Zelda just casually dodges the question.)

Link: „Nö." DT/EQ: „"Nope." OE: "I'm not going." (NOTE: ...Bröther. The lämp...)

Toneffekte: „Fosch" DT/EQ: „"Fosch" OE: "Fwp" (NOTE: Okay, no clue.)

Prinzessin Zelda: „Warum nichts?" DT/EQ: „"Why not?" OE: "Why not?"

Link: „Ich muss trainieren! Geh du allein hin!" DT: „I must train! Go you alone there!" EQ: "I must train! Go there alone!" OE: "I'm too busy training! If you wanna go, go alone!"

Toneffekte: „Heul..." DT/EQ: „"Cry..." OE: "Plip"

Prinzessin Zelda: „Du bist so gemein! Ich habe mich so drauf gefreut, mit dir auf das Fest zu gehen..." DT: „You are so mean! I (x) myself so (x) pleased, with you to the Festival to go..." EQ: "You're so mean! I was so looking forward to going to the Festival with you..." OE: "Why are you being so mean? I s-snuck out so w-we could g-go together!" (NOTE: Idiomatic...)

Toneffekte: „Flenn flenn" DT/EQ: „"Blub blub" OE: "Sniff sob wail"

Link: „Ooooch, das war doch nur ein Witz! Ich hab mich auch darauf gefreut!" DT: „Oooohh, that was still only a joke! I (x) myself also there pleased!" EQ: "Oooohh, it was only a joke! I was looking forward to it, too!" OE: "R-Right... I was just kidding! I've been looking for you!" (NOTE: *intense sobbing*)

Link: „Wein doch nicht, Zelda. Komm, wir gehen los!!" DT: „Cry still not, Zelda. Come, we go let's!!" EQ: "Don't cry, Zelda. Come, let's go!!" OE: "Please don't cry! We've got too much to see!"

Toneffekte: „Freu" DT/EQ: „"Pleased" OE: "Perk"

Prinzessin Zelda: „Ja. ♪" DT/EQ: „"Yes. ♪" OE: "Yaay! ♪"

Prinzessin Zelda: „Schnell! Es fängt schon an!" DT/EQ: „"Quick! It began already (x)!" OE: "Come on! It's already starting!"

Toneffekte: „Bumm bumm bumm" DT/EQ: „"Boom boom boom" OE: "BOOM BOOM BOOM"

Link: „..." DT/EQ: „"..." OE: "..." (NOTE: Finally, a game-accurate line of dialogue.)

Link: „Das war ja schon immer so... Ich kann nie »Nein« zu ihr sagen..." DT: „That was indeed already always so... I can never »No« to her say..." EQ: "It's always been this way... I can never say »No« to her..." OE: "It's been like this ever since we were little... I can't say no to her." (NOTE: Yes, the French-style quotation marks are used.)

Toneffekte: „DING DONG" DT/EQ: „"DING DONG" OE: "KLANG KLANG"

Leute: „Oh, Prinzessin Zelda! Link, du bist ja echt gut mit ihr befreundhet." DT: „Oh, Princess Zelda! Link, you are indeed really good with her friendly." EQ: "Oh, Princess Zelda! Link, you really are friendly with her." OE: "Look, it's Princess Zelda! You two sure are close, aren't you, Link?"

Prinzessin Zelda: „Oh, hi hi. ♥" DT/EQ: „"Oh, hi hi. ♥" OE: "Tee-hee!"

Link: „Sei ruhig! Komm, Zelda!!" DT/EQ: „"Be quiet! Come, Zelda!!" OE: "Shut up!! Let's go! C'mon!"

Prinzessin Zelda: „Warte, Link! Da gibt es eine Lotterie!" DT: „Wait, Link! There there is a lottery!" EQ: "Wait, Link! There's a lottery over there!" OE: "Wait, Link. There's a lottery!"

Link: „Ach, da gewinnt man eh nie! Höchstens nur einen Trostpreis..." DT: „Oh, there win one anyway never! Mostly only a consolation-prize..." EQ: "Oh, no-one ever wins those! At most, just a consolation-prize..." OE: "Why bother No one ever wins... Not the good prizes, just the cheesy little ones!"

Toneffekte: „Kling klong" DT/EQ: „"Kling klong" OE: "RING RING"

Bruna: „Hauptgewinn!!" DT/EQ: „"Jackpot!!" OE: "We have a big winner!" (NOTE: Bruna is still Pina. You'll see why I keep saying "still" much, much later...)

Bruna: „Hauptgewinn an die Prinzessin! Ihr habt freie Auswahl!" DT/EQ: „Jackpot for the Princess! You have free choice!" OE: "First prize right at the start! Choose anything you like!"

Toneffekte: „KLONG KLONG" DT/EQ: „"KLONG KLONG" OE: "RING RING"

Person 2: „Wahnsinn!" DT/EQ: „"Madness!" OE: "Wow, Princess!"

Person 3: „Prinzessin, nehmt den herzförmigen Stein! Er steht Euch gut!" DT/EQ: „"Princess, take the heart-shaped stone! It suits you well!" OE: "Get the heart-shaped stone, Princess! It's cute! It'd look GREAT on you!"

Prinzessin Zelda: „Ich nehme diesen Schild." DT: „I take this shield." EQ: "I'll take this shield." OE: "I'll take this shield."

Link: „Wieso?! Du darfst dir alles aussuchen. Der Stein ist doch hübsch..." DT: „How-so?! You may (for) you anything choose. The stone is still pretty..." EQ: "Why?! You can choose anything. The stone is so pretty..." OE: "Huh? You got FIRST prize. You should chose something better." (NOTE: And no, that's not a typo. English really says "chose" and not "choose".)

Prinzessin Zelda: „Nein, ich möchte den hier." DT: „No, I would like the here." EQ: "No, I would like this here." OE: "No, THIS is what I want."

Bruna: „Wirklich? Ihr seid aber seltsam..." DT: „Really? You are but strange..." EQ: "Really? You're rather strange..." OE: "I see the Princess has... Umm... Interesting taste!"

Prinzessin Zelda: „Hier, Link. Schade, dass du diesmal nicht am Turnier teilnehmen konntest. Aber ich weiß, wie gut du bist. Und damit wirst du noch besser!" DT: „Here, Link. Sad, that you this-time not in (the) Tournament partake could. But I know, how good you are. And therewith will you still better!" EQ: "Here, Link. It's a shame that you couldn't partake in the Tournament this time. But, I know how good you are. And with this, you'll get even better!" OE: "Here. I'm sorry you can't participate in the Martial Arts contest. You'd've done great. But use this while you're training for next year." (NOTE: Slightly idiomatic.)

Link: „Oh... Das wusstest du...?" DT: „Oh... That knew you...?" EQ: "Oh... You knew that...?" OE: "Huh? She knew?!"

Prinzessin Zelda: „Klasse! Du siehst toll damit aus!" DT/EQ: „"Classy! You look terrific with that out!" OE: "It's perfect! You look SO cool!" (NOTE: That's STILL what she said.)

Link: „He he... Danke." DT/EQ: „"He he... Thanks." OE: "Heh heh... Don't embarrass me!"

Toneffekte: „Bumm bumm bumm" DT/EQ: „"Boom boom boom" OE: "BOOM POOMF BAM"

Prinzessin Zelda: „Das Turnier beginnt. Lass uns zum Schloss gehen!" DT: „The Tournament begins. Let us to (the) Castle go!" EQ: "The Tournament's beginning. Let's go to the Castle!" OE: "Let's go to the Castle. The Marial Arts contest is about to start!" (NOTE: DARNIT, ENGLISH. Is it "Tournament" or "contest"?! MAKE UP YOUR MIND!)

Link: "Ja, los!" DT/EQ: „"Yes, let's!" OE: "Where to next?" (NOTE: But... English... This speech-bubble is AFTER Zelda's... She's already told you... Where you're going...)

Prinzessin Zelda: „Link, kennst du die Vorgeschichte vom Minish-Fest?" DT: „Link, know you the history of the Minish-Festival?" EQ: "Link, do you know the history of the Minish-Festival?" OE: "Do you know the story behind the Picori Festival?"

???: „Waah! Waah! Waah!" DT/EQ: „"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" OE: "HURRAAY ROARR YAAY" (NOTE: The people... Cheering, I guess?)

Person 4: „Gewonnen!!" DT/EQ: „"Won/Win!!" OE: "Look! He won!" (NOTE: Means both; and both make sense. The announcement of who won the match, but all I'm hearing is Yzma as a kitten...)

Link: „Klar! Die Minish-Legende... Opa hat sie mir erzählt." DT: „Clearly! The Minish-Legend... Grandpa (x) it to me told." EQ: "Clearly! The Minish-Legend... Grandpa told it to me." OE: "Yeah. The Picori Legend. My Grandfather told it to me."

Link: „Vor langer Zeit, als schreckliche Monster unsere Welt bedrohten... ...und die Städte vernichteten... ...stiegen Minish vom Himmel herab und gaben einem Helden das Schwert." DT: „Before long time, as terrible monsters our world threatened... and the cities destroyed... ascended Minish from the Heavens/sky down and gave a Hero the Sword." EQ: "A long time ago, as terrible monsters threatened our world... and destroyed the cities... the Minish descended from the Heavens/sky and gave a Hero the Sword." OE: "Long, long ago, terrible evil spirits appeared in the world. They burnt our city to the ground. At the same time, the Picori arrived, bestowing a magical Sword to a Great Hero."

Link: „Und dieser Held vertrieb die Monster mit dem Schwert." DT/EQ: „"And this Hero ejected the monsters with the Sword." OE: "Using the Sword, the Hero drove the evil spirits away... or something."

Prinzessin Zelda: „Genau, Link. Seitdem feiern wir jährlich ein Fest... ...als Dankeschön an die Minish." DT: „Exactly, Link. Since-then celebrate we yearly a Festival... as thank-you to the Minish." EQ: "Exactly, Link. Since then, we celebrate a Festival yearly... as a thank-you to the Minish." OE: "Yes, that's it. So every year we have a Festival... ...To thank the Picori for coming at our time of need."

Link: "Das ist doch nur eine Legende..." DT/EQ: „"That is still only a legend..." OE: "You really believe the legend?"

Prinzessin Zelda: „Oh, du glaubst nicht daran? Die Minish gibt es wirklich. Vater behauptet das auch immer. Sie öffnen ein Mal in hundert Jahren das Tor zu unserer Welt und kommon zu uns." DT: „Oh, you believe not that in? The Minish are (x) real. Father claims that also always. They open one time in hundred years the Gate to our world and come to us." EQ: "Oh, you still don't believe that? The Minish are real. Father always claims that, too. Every hundred years, they open the Gate to our world and come to us." OE: "You mean you DON'T? My father told me the Picori really DO exist. He said they come out when the Door to the Picori World opens once every hundred years."

Prinzessin Zelda: „Und dieses Jahr ist es wieder so weit!" DT: „And this year is it again so far!" EQ: "And this year, it's happening again!" OE: "And this is the one-hundredth year!" (NOTE: Could also be, "And this year, the time has come again!")

ANNOUNCER: „Nr. 28, Vaati! Nr. 57, Max!!" DT: „Nr. 28, Vaati! Nr. 57, Max!!" EQ: "No. 28, Vaati! Nr. 57, Max!!" OE: "Next up, the mysterious Vaati... ...Versus big bad Max!" (NOTE: Max kept his name as well... And because I'm insane, I can tell you that in goroawase, "57" is "Kon'nan"/Like this" and "28" means "Fiibaa"/"Fever"... What signifigance this holds, I don't know. Also, why English removed the numbers... Ich hab' keine Ahnung.)

???: „Wah! Wah! Wah!" DT/EQ: „"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" OE: "YAAY CHEER ROAR" (NOTE: I give up. The crowd is Robert Plant.)

Link: "! Oh, er?!" DT/EQ: „"! Oh, him?!" OE: "! It's him!"

Prinzessin Zelda: „Du kennst ihn?" DT/EQ: „"You know him?" OE: "You know that guy?"

Max: „En Garde!!" DT/EQ: „"En Garde!!" OE: "There's the bell!" (NOTE: English Max... Isn't the one talking???)

Toneffekte: „KAWOMM!" DT/EQ: „"KABOOM!" OE: ZWARRKK"

Max: „Bäh!" DT/EQ: „"BAH!" OE: "GAH!" (NOTE: ...Humbug.)

Link: „!!" DT/EQ: „"!!" OE: "!"

Erzähler: „Der junge Mann in der lila Robe hat seine überwältigende Stärke gezeigt. Deshalb war er der eindeutige Sieger." DT: „The young man in the purple robes (x) his overwhelming strength shown. Therefore was he the definite victor." EQ: "The young man in the purple robes showed his overwhelming strength. Therefore, he was the definite victor." OE: "The man in the purple robe showed overwhelming power... And quickly took the Championship."

???: „Wah! Wah!" DT/EQ: „"Whoa! Whoa!" OE: "YAAY HURRAY"

Alberich: „Wer mag das sein?" DT/EQ: „"Who might that be?" OE: "I wonder who that guy is."

Link: „Oh, Opa! Du auch hier?" DT: „Oh, Grandpa! You also here?" EQ: "Oh, Grandpa! You're also here?" OE: "Grandpa! When'd you get here?"

???: „Waah!" DT/EQ: „"Whoa!" OE: "YAAY"

Alberich: „Ich bin hier, um das Schwert für den Sieger zu bringen." DT: „I am here, in order the Sword for the victor to bring." EQ: "I am here in order to bring the Sword for the victor." OE: "I came to deliver the Sword that goes to the Champion."

Erzähler: „Opa Alberich ist der beste Schmied in Hyrule." DT/EQ: „"Grandpa Alberich is the best Blacksmith in Hyrule." OE: "Grandfather Smith is the best weaponsmith in Hyrule."

Alberich: „Das ist das Heilige Schwert der Minish." DT/EQ: „"That is the Holy Sword (of) the Minish." OE: "And to see the Sacred Sword handed down by the Picori."

Link: „Was? Ist das echt?" DT/EQ: „"What? Is that real/genuine?" OE: "What? The REAL thing?!"

Alberich: „Laut der Legende versiegelt es Hunderte von Monstern in dieser Truhe." DT: „According (to) the legends seals it hundreds of Monsters in this Chest." EQ: "According to the legends, it seals hundreds of Monsters in this Chest." OE: "According to legend, the evil spirits are in that Chest, trapped there by the Sword's power."

Minister Friedrich: „Nun beginnen wir mit der Siegerehrung." DT: „Now begin we with the Awards-Ceremony." EQ: "Now we begin with the Awards-Ceremony." OE: "Now let us begin the Award Ceremony." (NOTE: Minister Friedrich/Potho kept his name.)

Minister Friedrich: „Der Sieger Vaati möge hervortreten!" DT: „The victor Vaati may forth-step!" EQ: "The victor, Vaati, may step forth!" OE: "Champion Vaati, step forward!"

König Dartus: „Vaati, dein Sieg wird in die Geschichte des Minish-Festes eingehen. Nimm dieses Schwert." DT: „Vaati, your victory will in the history (of) the Minish-Festival down-go. Take this Sword." EQ: "Vaati, your victory will go down in the history of the Minish-Festival. Take this Sword." OE: "Vaati, please accept this fine Sword and know that your name will be inscribed... ...In the annals of our Festival!" (NOTE: König/King Dartus/Daltus. Same thing. Just wait until we get to a certain pair of Minish twins...)

Vaati: „Ich danke Euch..." DT/EQ: „"I thank you..." OE: "Thanks for the Sword, but..."

Vaati: „...dass das alles so gut klappt!" DT: „...that/because that all so well worked-out!" EQ: "...because everything worked out so well!" OE: "...What I REALLY want is in that Chest!"

Vaati: „Das Heilige Schwert der Minish und die versiegelte Kiste wurden zur Siegerehrung vorgeführt." DT: „The Holy Sword (of) the Minish and the sealed Chest were to (the) Award-Ceremony presented." EQ: "The Holy Sword of the Minish and the sealed Chest were only ever presented at the Award-Ceremony." OE: "And since the Sacred Sword of the Picori and the Bound Chest are only ever seen at this annual Awards Ceremony..."

Vaati: „Lange habe ich diesen Moment herbeigesehnt!" DT: „Long have I this moment yearned-for!" EQ: "I have long yearned for this moment!" OE: "...Winning your stupid Tournament was my only chance!" (NOTE: Or another equally-heartbreaking translation could be, "I have longed for this moment!")

Hofstaat: „Was?! Ein Schurke!!" DT/EQ: „"What?! A villain!!" OE: "What?! Don't cause any trouble, son!" (NOTE: Probably unintentional... But „Schurke" can also mean "knave"... Which is what one of the Fates in "Cadence of Hyrule" calls Octavo... Huh...)

Hofstaat: „Aaargl!!" DT/EQ: „"Aaarghh!!" OE: "AAARGH!"

Toneffekte: „ZABAMM! KARACK!" DT/EQ: „"KABAMM! KRRACK!" OE: "ZWARRKK KRAKK"

Link: „Das Schwert!" DT/EQ: „"The Sword!" OE: "The Sword!!"

Monster: „GRÄÄÄÄÄÄH!" DT/EQ: „"GROOOOOOWL!" OE: "HOOWWWL"

Person: "Iieeek! Lauft weg!!" DT/EQ: „"Eeeeek! Run away!!" OE: "Eeeek! Run!"

Alberich: „Link?!" DT/EQ: „"Link?!" OE: "Link?!"

Monster: „Urks!" DT/EQ: „"Ack!" OE: "Eek!"

Toneffekte: „BUZZZ!" DT/EQ: „"BUZZZ!" OE: "WHAAM"

Vaati: "!" DT/EQ: „"!" OE: "!"

Prinzessin Zelda: „Wer bist du?! Was sollte das werden?!" DT: „Who are you?! What should that be?!" EQ: "Who are you?! What was that supposed to be?!" OE: "Who ARE you? WHY have you done this?" (NOTE: Oh, look... Hello, idioms, my old friend...)

Vaati: „Oh oh... Das ist wohl die magische Kraft der Hyrule-Prinzessin...?" DT: „Oh oh... This is surely the magical power (of) the Hyrule-Princess...?" EQ: "Oh oh... This is surely the magical power of Hyrule's Princess...?" OE: "Well, well... Now we see the mysterious power of the Princess of Hyrule!"

Vaati: „Wenn ich dich jetzt verschone, wirst du mir später nur im Weg sein..." DT: „If I you now spare, will you (for) me later only in (the) way be..." EQ: "If I spare you now, you will only be in my way later..." OE: "If I don't take care of you now, you'll cause me no end of grief later!"

Link: „STOPP!!" DT/EQ: „"STOP!!" OE: "STOP!"

Toneffekte: „ZAMM!" DT/EQ: „"BAMM!" OE: "SLIIIDE"

Vaati: „Der Junge aus dem Wald... Willst du etwas den Helden spielen? Hi hi!" DT: „The boy from the Forest... Want you something the Hero play? Hi hi!" EQ: "The boy from the Forest... Do you want to play Hero? Hi hi!" OE: "Well, if it isn't that little boy I met in the forest. Are you pretending to be a knight? Heh heh"

Link: „Lass die Prinzessin in Ruhe!" DT: „Let the Princess in peace!" EQ: "Leave the Princess alone!" OE: "I won't let you touch Zelda!"

Toneffekte: „BUZZZ" DT/EQ: „"BUZZZ" OE: "KZARK" (NOTE: DENIED.)

Link: „AAAAH!!" DT/EQ: „"AAAH!!" OE: "AAARGH!!"

Toneffekte: „ZIIIPP" DT/EQ: „"ZIIIPP" OE: "SHING"

Vaati: „Seht her! Dies ist der Fluch des Hexenmeisters!! Ha ha ha ha... So..." DT/EQ: „"See here! This is the curse of the sorcerer! Ha ha ha ha... So..." OE: "See that?! BEHOLD the curse of a Mage! Ha ha ha ha! Now..." (NOTE: ...English, you're not even trying to hide the "sorcerer" thing...)

Vaati: „!! Leer?! Was zum...?! Die Truhe hat nur die Monster versiegelt?" DT: „!! Empty?! What the...?! The Chest (x) only the Monsters sealed?" EQ: "!! Empty?! What the...?! The Chest only sealed the Monsters?" OE: "What?! It's EMPTY! It really WASN'T sealing anything but spirits?!"

Vaati: „Na, auch gut. Ich weiß, dass sich das Force in Hyrule befindet. Ich werde in Ruhe danach suchen... He he he he..." DT: „Well, also good. I know, that itself the Force in Hyrule located. I will in peace then search... He he he he..." EQ: "Very well then. I know that the Force itself is located in Hyrule. I will search in peace, then... He he he he..." OE: "But I know the Light Force is in Hyrule somewhere! I guess I'll just... ...Have to keep looking for it. Heh heh heh."

Link: „Uhm... Autsch. Zel... da... bist du...?!" DT/EQ: „"Um... Ouch. Zel... da... are you...?!" OE: "Ungh. Owww. Z... Zelda, are you all right?"

Link: „Zelda?! Sie ist versteinert!!" DT/EQ: „"Zelda?! She is petrified!!" OE: "Zelda?! Sh-She's been turned to STONE!"

König Dartus: „Zelda!! Wie konnte dass nur passieren...?" DT: „Zelda!! How could this only happen...?" EQ: "Zelda!! How could this have happened...?" OE: "Zelda! How could this happen?!"

Minister Friedrich: „Wie shrecklich..." DT/EQ: „"How dreadful..." OE: "Return to normal!"

Toneffekte: „Wuäh wuäh wuäh" DT/EQ: „"Wah wah wah" OE: "Boo hoo hoo hoo"

Minister Friedrich: „Eure Majestät! Wie kann sie geheilt werden?!" DT: „Your Majesty! How can she healed be?!" EQ: "Your Majesty! How can she be healed?!" OE: "Your Majesty, is there no way to bring the Princess back?!"

König Dartus: „Der Fluch ist mit der heiligen Macht des Schwertes der Minish zu brechen..." DT: „The curse is with the holy might (of) the Sword (of) the Minish to break..." EQ: "The curse is to be broken with the holy might of the Sword of the Minish..." OE: "The Sacred Sword... The Picori Blade has the power to remove a Mage's curse." (NOTE: *slams drink for every usage of "Mage"*)

König Dartus: „Aber Vaati hat das Schwert zerstört. Doch die Minish sind in der Lage, das Schwert zu reparieren." DT: „But Vaati (x) the Sword destroyed. Still the Minish are in the position, the Sword to repair." EQ: "But Vaati destroyed the Sword. Still, the Minish are in the position to repair the Sword." OE: "Unfortunately, Vaati broke that, too! And only the Picori can restore it."

Alberich: „Minish? Ihr meint... das Minish-Volk aus der Legende?" DT/EQ: „"Minish? You mean... the Minish-people from the legends?" OE: "The Picori?! But the Picori are only a legend..."

König Dartus: „Minish existieren wirklich. Dieses Geheimnis hütet die Königsfamilie... Die Minish leben im Tyloria-Wald." DT: „Minish exist really. This secret treasured the Royal-family... The Minish live in Tyloria-Forest." EQ: "Minish really exist. This secret was treasured by the Royal Family... The Minish live in Tyloria-Forest." OE: "The Picori race really DOES exist. It's a secret known only to the Royal Family. They live in the Minish Woods."

Minister Friedrich: „Wir senden nun die Soldaten aus!" DT: „We send only the Soldiers out!" EQ: "We'll send out the Soldiers!" OE: "Then let's send Soldiers there!"

König Dartus: „Nein... Keine Soldaten!" DT/EQ: „"No... No Soldiers!" OE: "Alas... ...We can't."

Minister Friedrich: „Warum das denn?" DT: „Why that then?" EQ: "Why is that?" OE: "Why not?!"

König Dartus: „Erwachsene können die Minish nicht sehen. Deshalb werden die Soldaten sie nie finden." DT: „Adults can the Minish not see. Therefore will the Soldiers them never find." EQ: "Adults cannot see the Minish. Therefore, the Soldiers will never find them." OE: "Adults cannot see the Picori. The Soldiers would never dind them."

Minister Friedrich: „Hmmm..." DT/EQ: „"Hmmm..." OE: "Drat!"

Link: „Ich gehe! Lasst mich das machen, Eure Majestät!!" DT: „I go! Let me this do, Your Majesty!!" EQ: "I'll go! Let me do this, Your Majesty!!" OE: "Your Majesty, send me! I'll go to the Minish Woods and find the Picori!"

Alberich: „Link! Untersteh dich..." DT: „Link! Submit yourself..." EQ: "Link! Don't you dare..." OE: "Link! Don't be so impudent!" (NOTE: Okay, this is one huge idiom... An old-fashioned one, at that.)

König Dartus: „Schon gut, Alberich." DT: „Already good, Alberich." EQ: "It's okay, Alberich." OE: "Master Weaponsmith, wait...!" (NOTE: *gives up on the Viz English version*)

König Dartus: „Link ist Zeldas Sandkastenfreund. Ich bitte dich, Link... Zeige das zerbrochene Schwert den Minish im Wald. Und lerne, wie man es repariert." DT: „Link is Zelda's childhood-friend. I beg you, Link... Show the broken Sword (to) the Minish in (the) Forest. And learn, how one it repairs." EQ: "Link is Zelda's childhood friend. I beg of you, Link... Show the broken Sword to the Minish in the Forest. And learn how one repairs it." OE: "It seems only right for Link to take on this quest since... ...He and the Princess are friends. Take the Sword to the Minish Woods, Link. Ask the Picori how to reforge it."

Link: „Jawohl!" DT/EQ: „"Yessir!" OE: "Yes, Your Majesty!"

Alberich: „Warte, Link! Auf dem Weg lauern sicher Gefahren. Nimm dies hier mit." DT: „Wait, Link! Of the way lurk itself dangers. Take this here with." EQ: "Wait, Link! Dangers lurk along the way. Take this along." OE: "Wait, Link! The road you travel will be dangerous. Take this." (NOTE: IT'S DANGEROUS TO GO ALONE, TAKE THIS.)

Alberich: „Das beste Stück, das ich je gemacht habe. Gib dir Mühe für die Prinzessin!!" DT: „The best piece, that I ever made (x). Give your effort for the Princess!!" EQ: "The best Piece that I ever made. Give your all for the Princess!!" OE: "I put my heart and soul into this blade. Use it to save the Princess!"

Link: „Ein Schwert! Es ist echt! Tausend Dank, Opa!!" DT/EQ: „"A Sword! It is real! Thousand thanks, Grandpa!!" OE: "A Sword! A REAL Sword! Thank you, Grandfather!"

Link: „Nie werde ich Vaati verzeihen! Warte auf mich, Zelda. Ich werde dich von diesem Fluch befreien!" DT: „Never will I Vaati forgive! Wait for me, Zelda. I will you from this curse free!" EQ: "I'll never forgive Vaati! Wait for me, Zelda. I'll free you from this curse!" OE: "I'll bring you back, Zelda! I promise! I'll make Vaati PAY for doing this to you!"

Hofstaat: „Eure Majestät! Überall in Hyrule tauchen Monster auf!" DT: „Your Majesty! Overall in Hyrule emerging Monsters (x)!" EQ: "Your Majesty! Monsters are emerging all over in Hyrule!" OE: "I bring news, m'lord! Evil spirits are attacking all over!" (NOTE: „auftauchen").

Alberich: „Was?!" DT/EQ: „"What?!" OE: "What?!"

König Dartus: „Vaati hat sie gerade entfesselt... Die Soldaten übernehmen die Monster. Du gehst zum Tyloria-Wald! Nimm diese Karte von Hyrule." DT: „Vaati (x) them just released... The Soldiers take-on the Monsters. You go to (the) Tyloria-Forest! Take this Map of Hyrule." EQ: "Vaati just released them... The Soldiers will take on the Monsters. You go to Tyloria-Forest! Take this Map of Hyrule." OE: "When the Sword broke, Vaati also released the spirits! The Castle Guards will have to drive away the evil spirits. Link, here is a Map of Hyrule. Waste not a moment. Go to the Minish Woods!"

Link: „Das ist also der Tyloria-Wald... Wo finde ich bloß die Minish?" DT: „This is so the Tyloria-Forest... Where find I just the Minish?" EQ: "So, this is Tyloria-Forest... Just where do I find the Minish?" OE: "Is THIS the Minish Woods? I wonder where the Picori are?"

Link: „Heeey!! Minish, kommt raus! Minish? Huhu, Minish!!" DT/EQ: „"Heeey!! Minish, come out! Minish? Yoo-hoo, Minish!!" OE: "Hellloooo! C'mon out, Picori! We need you! Picori? Where the heck are you?!" (NOTE: ...It literally never occurred to me until just now that the reason the Minish never came out is because they don't understand him...)

Link: „Es ist doch das hundertste Jahr, in dem sich das Tor öffnet! Ich dachte, Kinder können die Minish sehen?!" DT: „It is still the hundredth year, in the/which itself the Gate opens! I think, children can the Minish see?!" EQ: "It's still the hundredth year in which the Gate opens! I thought children could see the Minish?!" OE: "Is this NOT the one-hundredth year, when the Door to the Picori World opens?! Maybe it's just not true that kids can see the Picori?!"

Toneffekte: „Keuch japs japs" DT/EQ: „"Wheeze gasp gasp" OE: "Wheeeze puff huff"

Link: „UH Moment... Ich hab ja nie an Minish geglaubt..." DT: „UH Moment... I (x) indeed never in Minish believed..." EQ: "UH Wait a moment... I really never believed in Minish..." OE: "GASP Or Maybe... ...I can't see Picori because I NEVER believed in them?"

Link: „Vielleicht bin ich daher nicht mehr unschuldig... Und kann die Minish deshalb gar nicht sehen?!" DT: „Maybe am I hence not more innocent... And can the Minish therefore at all not see?!" EQ: "Maybe I'm not innocent anymore... And therefore can't see the Minish at all?!" OE: "I'm young, but my innocence is GONE! That MUST be it! Even though I'm a kid, I CAN'T see them! Not with THESE jaded eyes!"

Toneffekte: „Entsetzen!" DT/EQ: „"Dismay!" OE: "Oh noooooo!"

Link: „Was mach ich bloß...? Ich kann nichts tun, solange ich die Minish nicht finde..." DT: „What do I just...? I can nothing do, as-long I the Minish not find..." EQ: "Just what do I do...? I can't do anything as long as I don't find the Minish..." OE: "What should I do? If I don't find the Picori, Princess Zelda is doomed!"

Toneffekte: „Hach..." DT/EQ: „"Haa..." OE: "SLUMP" (NOTE: As far as I can tell, this is a sigh.)

Link: „?" DT/EQ: „"?" OE: "?"

Toneffekte: „Wisch" DT/EQ: „"Wipe" OE: "Rub rub"

Link: „Äh... Ich sehe da was Komisches..." DT: „Ah... I see there what comical..." EQ: "Ah... I'm seeing something comical there..." OE: "Hmmm... ...That looks a little weird!"

Ezelo: „Au! Autsch!" DT/EQ: „"Ow! Ouch!" OE: "Quit it! Ow! That hurts!"

Toneffekte: „Batsch! Batsch!" DT/EQ: „"Bash! Bash!" OE: "WHACK SMACK"

Ezelo: „He! Zu Hilfe!" DT: „Hey! To help!" EQ: "Hey! Help me!" OE: "Hey, someone... Anyone... HELLLLP!"

[hotmessteaparty]

I did it. I finally did it. I translated the first chapter of my Vaason fic into English! And I´m so fucking proud even though I still need a lot of practice.  So go check it out folks :3

Also heres the link for the German Version, there are alrady 8 chapters up... :D

[rvkswitzerland]

September 21, 2020

From Ryan:

I kind of can’t believe it had been over 2 weeks since our last update! That in and of itself should be a clear indication of how busy we are. I’m currently sitting in the library. Who would have thought that all the years I worked at Steen Library in college would actually benefit me in a real way later in life. This place is beautiful and a bit of a mess. Everything is manual for both the English and German portions of the library. The German side has one of the old slide-out card catalogues, the English side has a 20-year old Paradox database that is case-sensitive and is basically useless. Oh and we don’t lock the doors and there’s no anti-theft system so things just disappear apparently. I have my work cut out for me, but I’ll be able to apply some of my banking knowledge, past library knowledge, and all of my common sense. The upside is that it is one of the most beautiful buildings I’ve ever been inside. Here’s a quick video I made of my new office before I catch you up on all the other stuff:

So yeah... pretty excellent office and that barely does it justice. The sad part is there aren’t a lot of people coming through here, especially in the afternoons. Anyway, on to what we’ve been doing the last 2 weeks. The 10-day quarantine was a bit hard at times. We have a young family and our oldest isn’t much of a leader, he prefers to stick to himself. So we had to navigate the kids being bored, rowdy, and totally confused over schedules, rules, and procedures. Our house consists of our family, Osthaus Oben (East House Up,) and another family on the floor below us called Osthaus Unten (down). We tried to combine meals and some activities with the other family but the personalities of the family heads below us are very different from ours it seems. They have an 8 month old and very much prefer to keep to themselves instead of co-mingling with kids in times where it’s not explicitly required. We basically open our apartment to the kids at certain times and we all spent a lot of time there together during quarantine. Vicki can probably go into more detail sometime about her own struggles, but for me I found it mostly okay. Here is a quick list of all the things that we had to deal with while we were in quarantine: 2 physical altercations involving one of our kids, the entire house (literally) getting a nasty little cold, a Covid test for someone we all had contact with that came back negative within a day, self-harm, homesickness, too much food, not enough food, boredom, rain, bad table manners, poor hygiene, arguments over when they can have their cellphones, a kid sneaking into our apartment to steal his phone in the middle of the night, several late-night visits to our apartment to make tea even when they were told not to, vomiting, no sense of privacy, and a bunch of other stuff I probably can’t remember. It was quite the introduction to being a house parent. I handled it fine, Vicki had a pretty rough go of it - especially because of the lack of sleep. The kids were a bit wild from the newness of it all, but they are also smart, funny, and thoughtful. We made a lot of connections over music and video games during those 10 days and the kids formed a nucleus within our family that I think will give them confidence and a sense of safety throughout the term.

The task of “parenting” 6 kids is not easy, especially when a few of them know the norms, rules, and rituals of the school better than you do. Until the weekend before last we didn’t have any time off for 2 entire weeks. It was constant stuff 14 hours a day, 7 days a week. We had NO time to ourselves except to sleep - and even that was interrupted. Even when we finally got a day off and our third family head was doing all the “parenting” for us, you still know there are 6 kids outside your apartment door that would could come in with their hair on fire or needing to have a deep talk at any moment - and I don’t think either of us could say no. The hard part about this place seems to be finding the “off” switch. That will be the thing we have to figure out. Taking time to ourselves is going to be hard, but that’s the case for nearly everyone in some regard. We are in a bit of a routine now that we’ve had a week of normal classes. We’re now just dealing with the normal kind of parenting - you need to be on time, take your hat off at the table, don’t be rude, etc..

We finished our 10-day quarantine after dinner on Sept 9 and the entire school met on the Platz, the central part of campus right in front of the Esssaal. (Yes, that is spelled correctly.) That is where we have our meals now that we are out of quarantine. We had a folk dancing evening and everyone participated, even me. It was the first time since we went to the symphony on New Year’s Eve with Brandon and Gretchen that I had been in a crowd of people who were together in close proximity without the fear of Covid looming over us - since we all just quarantined strictly for 10 days and it was nearly impossible for any of us to be sick. As we skipped hand-in-hand across the Platz with our students and fellow Mitarbeitern, I was elated to steal a normal moment in the middle of the pandemic. There was a bit of guilt also, knowing that many people would not get to experience something guiltless like that until this is all far behind us. There was a sense of unbridled freedom, like the relief I felt as a kid when school was out and I could run wild and do exactly what I enjoyed most.

Now, I don’t want to give the impression that Covid does not influence everything we do here. It does. Chairs are spread out, discussions are had about where to have gatherings, windows are open for airflow, masks are mandatory when anyone may be ill, and meals are in shifts to minimize contact. We are wary of outsiders and of unnecessary close contact within our own community. Every aspect of the school takes Covid into account. We are holding out hope we can finish a full term under normal circumstances. The pandemic very much still exists for us. We know the risks and fear the consequences on our little microcosm. But for the most part life feels normal.

Despite the ebb and flow of emotions, I’ve started to find deep appreciation for this new chapter in my life. I’m certainly gaining appreciation for all parents, especially mine. I love not being burdened by a mortgage or a car payment or the expectation to make money and “be successful” in the American sense, which compelled me to stay in a career that was far from my own aspirations. The strange thing about the Ecole is that we are all encouraged, students and Mitarbeitern alike, to do the things that we care about most and to carve a unique path. The concepts and practices of this school are rooted in basic humanistic concepts that, to me anyway, feel natural. Everyone who works here is deeply committed to our students, this community, and the values from which it was founded. It’s all a far cry from the stress and meaningless toil I felt working in business. Since we left quarantine a few weeks ago it’s felt a bit like those first few days of the summers of my youth again. I can’t quite shake the feel that I am, once again, unbridled.