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fannish-karmiya · 3 years

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Wei Wuxian’s Position in the Jiang Household

Fandom tends to mischaracterise Wei Wuxian’s position in the Jiang family greatly. A lot of people project more modern ideas about adoption onto his relationship with the Jiang siblings, and write as if he really is their sibling and only Yu Ziyuan’s abusive nature gets in the way of their bond.

This strikes me as a bit misguided. While adoption was practised in ancient China, it was mainly for the purpose of obtaining a male heir in the absence of one, or obtaining more daughters to marry off for alliances. Jiang Fengmian had no reason to adopt Wei Wuxian into the main family, and he didn’t. Wei Wuxian’s position in the household is far more nebulous than that, and honestly it’s hard to find an exact corollary, in Chinese history or in any culture, precisely because it was so messy and ill-defined.

A Companion to Upper Class Children

Wei Wuxian is the son of a servant of Yunmeng Jiang; it’s notable that Wei Changze is always referred to this way, rather than as a disciple. Wei Changze wound up leaving the sect in order to marry Cangse Sanren, and Jiang Fengmian considered them dear enough friends that when he heard they passed away, he spent years searching for their orphaned son. He wound up finding Wei Wuxian on the streets of Yiling and brought him home as his ward.

Wei WuXian was taken home by Jiang FengMian when he was nine.

Most memories from back then were already blurred. Yet, Jin Ling’s mother, Jiang YanLi, remembered all of them, and even told him quite a few.

She said that, after his father heard of the news that his parents both died in battle, he had always dedicated himself to finding the child that these past friends had left behind. After searching for a while, he finally found the child in Yiling.

(Chapter 24, Exiled Rebels translation)

It’s clear from the start that beyond this sense of obligation to his old friends, Jiang Fengmian also had a role set out for Wei Wuxian: he wanted him to be a companion to his children, and Jiang Cheng in particular.

He encourages a friendship between them, insisting on a sleepover between the two a week into Wei Wuxian’s stay.

On the second day, Jiang Cheng’s puppies were given to someone else.

This angered Jiang Cheng so much that he threw a big tantrum. No matter how much Jiang FengMian comforted him gently, telling him that they should ‘be good friends’, he refused to talk to Wei WuXian. Quite a few days later, Jiang Cheng’s attitude softened. Jiang FengMian wanted to strike while the iron was still hot, so he told Wei WuXian to sleep in the same room as him, hoping that they’d grow fonder of each other.

[...]

That night, Jiang Cheng locked Wei WuXian outside his room, refusing to let him in.

[...]

Wei WuXian waited outside for a long time. When the door opened, before the joy could spread onto his face, he was bombarded with a pile of things being thrown out. The door banged shut again.

Jiang Cheng told him from inside, “Go sleep somewhere else! This is my room! You’re even gonna steal my room?!”

[...]

Standing outside, as Wei WuXian heard that dogs would come bite him, fear immediately bubbled within him. Twisting his fingers, he hurried, “I’ll go, I’ll go. Don’t call the dogs!”

Dragging behind him the sheets and blanket that were thrown outside, he ran out the hall. Having only arrived at Lotus Pier for a short period of time, he didn’t dare jump around yet. Every day, he obediently holed up in the places that Jiang FengMian told him to stay at. He didn’t even know where his room was, much less have the courage to knock on other people’s doors, scared that it’d disturb someone’s dreams.

(Chapter 71, Exiled Rebels translation)

After Jiang Cheng is worried about getting in trouble, he goes to Jiang Yanli for help, and she searches for Wei Wuxian.

But this was the first pair of shoes that Jiang FengMian bought him. Wei WuXian was too embarrassed to make him go out of his way to buy another pair, and so he said that they weren’t too big. Jiang YanLi helped him into his shoe and pressed the hollow tip, “It is a bit big. I’ll fix it for you when we get back.”

Hearing this, Wei WuXian felt somewhat uneasy, as if he did something wrong again.

Living in other people’s homes, the worst that could happen was to make trouble for the hosts.

Jiang YanLi put him onto her back and began to walk back, wobbling in her steps as she spoke, “A-Ying, no matter what A-Cheng said to you, don’t bother about him. He doesn’t have a good temper, so he’s always home playing with himself. Those puppies were his favorites. Dad sent them away, and so he’s feeling upset. He’s actually really happy that somebody’s here to be with him.”

(Chapter 71, Exiled Rebels translation)

Later, Wei Wuxian offers to cover for him, saying simply that he ran outside by himself because he was scared. In this one case it feels like a genuine instance of children showing solidarity and covering for each other’s little misbehaviours. But it also follows a pattern of Wei Wuxian doing this and making excuses, time and time again, for Jiang Cheng. I wonder if on some level, he already knew that his role in the household was in part to be a companion-servant to Jiang Cheng.

Wei Wuxian normally never puts up with people treating him poorly or being arrogant; he constantly bites his tongue when Jiang Cheng does so around him. While they study at Cloud Recesses, Jiang Cheng frequently insults Wei Wuxian, who always just smiles and laughs it off.

Jiang Cheng humphed, “Him? He wakes at nine in the morning and sleeps at one during the night. When he wakes up, he doesn’t practice his sword or meditate; he goes boating, swims around, picks lotus seedpods, and hunts for pheasants.”

Wei WuXian replied, “No matter how much pheasants I hunt, I’m still number one.”

(Chapter 13, Exiled Rebels translation)

Jiang Cheng scolded with a darkened expression, “What are you proud of?! What is there to be proud of with this?! Do you think that it’s a glorious thing to be told by someone to get lost? You bring so much shame upon our sect!”

(Chapter 16, Exiled Rebels translation)

We never see Wei Wuxian excusing this sort of behaviour from any other character; he has no problem scolding Jin Ling for his arrogant attitude and telling him that he shouldn’t be imitating his uncle, after all! It’s only where Jiang Cheng is concerned that he does this, and honestly, even then he seems to be quite aware that Jiang Cheng’s behaviour is wrong; he simply accepts on some level that it’s his role in the household to put up with it.

He actually does, very gently, try to guide Jiang Cheng at times. In Lotus Seed Pods, for example, he tries to give Jiang Cheng advice on how to flirt with some of the maidens in Yunmeng and make friends:

Wei WuXian threw the seed pods toward the shore. It was a far distance, but they landed lightly in the women’s hands. He grabbed a few more and stuffed them into Jiang Cheng’s arms, shoving, “What are you doing, just standing there? Hurry up.”

After a few shoves, Jiang Cheng could only accept them, “Hurry up and do what?”

Wei WuXian, “You ate the watermelon too, so you also have to return the gift, don’t you? Here, here, don’t be embarrassed. Start throwing, start throwing.”

Jiang Cheng snorted again, “You must be joking. What’s there to be embarrassed about?” Whatever he said, however, even after all of the shidi began to throw seed pods, he still didn’t start to move. Wei WuXian urged, “Then throw some! If you throw some this time, next time you can ask them if the seed pods tasted good, and you’ll be able to make conversation again!”

[...]

Jiang Cheng was just about to throw one when he realized how shameless it was the moment he heard it. He peeled a seed pod and ate it by himself.

[...]

After a while of laughter, he turned around and looked at Jiang Cheng, who was sitting at the front of the boat eating seed pods with a long face. His smile gradually disappeared as he sighed, “Well, what an unteachable child.”

Jiang Cheng fumed, “So what if I want to eat alone?”

Wei WuXian, “Look at you, Jiang Cheng. Nevermind. You’re hopeless. Just wait to eat alone your whole life!”

(Chapter 125, Lotus Seed Pod, Exiled Rebels translation)

He even sighs rather disappointedly when Jiang Cheng refuses to take the hint; he knows that Jiang Cheng’s sullen behaviour is going to make him miserable down the line, but all of his gentle efforts to nudge him in a better direction have failed.

He also speaks with great awareness of Jiang Cheng’s flaws after the fight in the ancestral hall:

Wei WuXian reached out with one hand and massaged his chest, as if trying to break up the pent-up feeling inside his heart. A moment later, he blurted, “I knew Jiang Cheng wouldn’t have let us go so easily. That brat… How could this be?!”

[...]

Wei WuXian’s eyelids throbbed, “Every one of them. The brat’s been like this ever since he was young.He’ll say anything when he’s angry, no matter how bad it is. He gives up on all grace and discipline whatsoever. As long as it’d annoy whomever he’s against, he’d say it no matter what terrible insults he uses. After all these years, he hasn’t gotten better at all. Please don’t take it to heart.”

(Chapter 90, Exiled Rebels translation)

This is so interesting to me, because it really makes it clear that Wei Wuxian has always been aware of these flaws of Jiang Cheng’s. He hasn’t been viewing him through rose-coloured lenses or making excuses for him because he’s ‘family’. He puts up with Jiang Cheng’s behaviour because being his companion is one of his duties in the Jiang household. It may never have been directly stated, but there seems to be some unspoken understanding to this effect.

I honestly don’t know if there is any official role in history (in any culture, not just China) which perfectly correlates to this. In China a lady’s maid was expected to also be a close friend and companion to her mistress (in canon, see Bicao to Qin-furen and Yinzhu and Jinzhu to Yu-furen). In Europe an upper class woman would hire a lady’s companion, a woman from the lower fringes of the gentry who would serve as her companion in exchange for financial support.

I don’t know of any version of this role which involves two men. In general, this sort of role existed because upper class women were confined to the household by and large, and had very limited social spheres. Men, meanwhile, had much greater ability to meet with their peers and make friends. I almost feel like Wei Wuxian wound up being shoved into this role simply because even as a child Jiang Cheng was so unsociable that Jiang Fengmian didn’t know what else to do!

Wei Wuxian also at least once steps in and starts a fight in place of Jiang Cheng (essentially taking the fall for him). He does this when Jin Zixuan speaks disparagingly of Jiang Yanli at Cloud Recesses:

Jin ZiXuan asked in reply, “Why don’t you ask me how on Earth can I be satisfied with her?”

Jiang Cheng instantly stood up.

Pushing him to the side, Wei WuXian walked in front of him and sneered, “You sure think that you’re pretty satisfying, don’t you? Where did you get the guts to be all choosy here?”

[...]

Wei WuXian sighed, “… It’d be nice if shijie came. It’s fortunate that you didn’t hit him.”

Jiang Cheng, “I was going to. If you didn’t push me, the other side of Jin ZiXuan’s face would also be ruined.”

(Chapter 18, Exiled Rebels translation)

It’s also very notable that Wei Wuxian is never shown having friends outside of Jiang Cheng’s social circle, despite what an outgoing and friendly person he is. Any time he expresses interest in someone for himself, as with Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng tries to nip it in the bud. Being unable to deter Wei Wuxian from Lan Wangji directly, Jiang Cheng instead tries to drive a wedge between them, constantly telling Wei Wuxian that Lan Wangji hates him.

“Yeah,” Nie HuaiSang spoke, “It looks like he really hates you, Wei-xiong. Lan WangJi usually… No, he never does something so impolite.”

Wei WuXian, “He hates me already? I wanted to apologize to him.”

Jiang Cheng sneered, “Apologizing now? Too late! Like his uncle, he surely thinks that you are evil and unruly to the core, and didn’t bother to pay you any attention.”

(Chapter 14, Exiled Rebels translation)

Jiang Cheng pulled him even closer, “It’s not as if you’re familiar with him! Don’t you see how much he hates you? You’re going to carry him? He probably doesn’t even want you a step closer to him.”

(Chapter 52, Exiled Rebels translation)

He even directly orders Wei Wuxian not to invite Lan Wangji to come visit him at Lotus Pier during the Lotus Seed Pod extra.

Wei WuXian, “Why are you so upset? My watermelon almost flew away! I was just being polite. Of course he wouldn’t come. Have you ever heard of him go anywhere by himself to have fun?”

Jiang Cheng had on a stern expression, “Let’s make this clear. I don’t want him to come, anyhow. Don’t invite him.”

(Chapter 125, Lotus Seed Pod, Exiled Rebels translation)

It’s not only Lan Wangji he tries to steer Wei Wuxian away from; he also interrupts his conversation with Wen Ning at the archery competition:

Wen QiongLin was probably one of Wen Clan’s disciples furthest in bloodline. His status was neither high nor low, yet his personality was timid. He didn’t dare do anything and even his speech stuttered. Through much practice, he had finally conjured up the courage to enter the competition, but he blew it because he was too nervous. If he didn’t receive the right guidance, perhaps the boy would hide his true self more and more from now on and never dare to perform in front of other people again. Wei WuXian encouraged him a couple of times and touched on a few areas of growth, correcting some miniscule problems that he had when he was shooting in the garden. Wen QiongLin listened so attentively that he didn’t even turn his eyes away, nodding uncontrollably.

Jiang Cheng, “Where did you find so much nonsense? The competition is starting soon. Get into the arena right now!”

Wei WuXian spoke to Wen QiongLin in a serious tone, “I’ll be off to the competition now. Later, you can see how I shoot when I’m in the arena…”

Jiang Cheng dragged him away, short of patience. He spat as he dragged, “See how you shoot? Do you think that you’re a model or something?!”

(Chapter 59, Exiled Rebels translation)

Even when it comes to Wei Wuxian’s friendly flirtation with Mianmian, Jiang Cheng has something to say and tries to deter him from her:

Jiang Cheng, “The one that MianMian gave you? I didn’t.”

Wei WuXian exclaimed his regret, “I’ll find her for another one later.”

Jiang Cheng frowned, “You’re at it again. You don’t really like her, do you? The girl does look fine, but it’s obvious that she doesn’t have much background. Maybe she isn’t even a disciple. She seems like the daughter of a servant.”

Wei WuXian, “What’s wrong with servants? I’m also the son of a servant, aren’t I?”

Jiang Cheng, “How can you compare to her? Whose servant is like you, having your master peel lotus seeds for you and boil you soup. I didn’t even get to have some!”

(Chapter 56, Exiled Rebels translation)

Jiang Cheng really does seem to view Wei Wuxian in a very proprietary light; he’s not allowed to have any friendships which don’t exist under Jiang Cheng’s direct control.

The idea that Wei Wuxian was meant to be Jiang Cheng’s servant-friend is reinforced at its darkest when Lotus Pier falls: both Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian’s last words to Wei Wuxian are an instruction to protect Jiang Cheng.

One hand holding him, Madam Yu grabbed Wei WuXian’s lapels with her other hand as though to strangle him to death. She spoke through clenched teeth, “… You damn little brat! I hate you! I hate you more than anything else! Look at what our sect has gone through for your sake!”

[...]

Madam Yu, “Don’t make such a fuss. It’ll loosen up when you’re somewhere safe. If anyone attacks you on the journey, it’ll protect you as well. Don’t come back. Go to Meishan straight away and find your sister!”

After she finished, she turned to Wei WuXian and pointed at him, “Wei Ying! Listen to me! Protect Jiang Cheng, protect him even if you die, do you understand?!”

[...]

Jiang FengMian stared into his eyes. Suddenly, he reached out. Only after pausing in the air did he finally touch Jiang Cheng’s head, slowly, “A-Cheng, be well.”

Wei WuXian, “Uncle Jiang, if anything happens to you, he won’t be well.”

Jiang FengMian turned his eyes to him, “A-Ying, A-Cheng… you must look after him.”

(Chapter 58, Exiled Rebels translation)

Even Jiang Fengmian, who supposedly favoured Wei Wuxian, only gives him instructions as pertains to his own son; he doesn’t spare a single last word for Wei Wuxian himself.

A Lower Status Family Member

It wasn’t uncommon throughout human history, across many cultures, for wealthy families to take in relatives who were orphaned or had otherwise fallen on hard times. They tended to have a lower status than the main family; they lived with them and were still a part of their social sphere, but were not quite equal, either. The English term for this is ‘poor relation’.

Obviously, Wei Wuxian isn’t actually a blood relative at all. But his position in the Jiang household definitely has some similarities. He lives in the main house, eats meals with the family, attends school with the son... He is even on some conditional levels accepted into the gentry of cultivation society. But he isn’t a full equal member of the family, either.

The fact that he’s Jiang Fengmian’s ward, not a blood relative or adopted into the main family, puts him at even more of a disadvantage. It seems that Jiang Fengmian paid for all of Wei Wuxian’s expenses:

Wei WuXian took a bite, “Back then, I didn’t even have to pay when I ate at the dock. I grabbed whatever I wanted, ate whatever I wanted; ran after I grabbed, walked as I ate. A month later, the vendor would get the reimbursement from Uncle Jiang.”

(Chapter 86, Exiled Rebels translation)

While this is a bit of conjecture, I gather that he was given access to family money as if he was part of the clan, and could just charge Yunmeng Jiang whenever he shopped in Lotus Pier. Which is great so long as Wei Wuxian is accepted in Yunmeng Jiang...but as we see during the Burial Mounds settlement period, the moment that acceptance fades, Wei Wuxian is left out in the cold without a single coin. And because he isn’t a member of the family, it’s a far easier matter for him to be thrown aside, as he was when Jiang Cheng grew angry with him over his decision to protect the Wens.

Of course, Chinese families traditionally did share their wealth, and still do nowadays. Ideally, in a loving family, this is a positive and means they all support each other; but when that isn’t the case, it leaves the victims of abuse vulnerable.

In Wei Wuxian’s case, he has some of the benefits of being a member of the Jiang clan, without ever actually being a member. He can be cast aside at any time, and he is never afforded the same respect by wider cultivation society which an inner clan member would have.

I don’t believe the novel ever directly addresses Wei Wuxian’s acceptance into the guest lectures at Cloud Recesses in this light, but the donghua actually has a very interesting little exchange about it which takes place between Nie Huaisang and a relative of his:

“Wei-xiong is just a disciple from Yunmeng. Why could he come to Gusu to study?”

“Wei-xiong is the son of Jiang-zongzhu’s old friend. He has been treated as their own son.”

“Oh, I see. That explains why they don’t look like master and servant, they seem like brothers.”

(MDZS Donghua, Episode 3, Guodong Subs)

Wei Wuxian was only allowed to attend these lectures, which seem to mainly be for sect heirs and inner clan members, on the grace of being Jiang Fengmian’s ward (and probably to accompany Jiang Cheng). While this exchange is not from the book, we never do see or hear about any of the other students being outer disciples rather than members of the main clan. Here’s what the novel had to say about it:

In that year, aside from the YunmengJiang Sect, there were also the young masters from other clans, sent to study here from parents who heard of the reputation. The young masters were all around fifteen or sixteen. Because the sects all knew the others, although they weren’t close, they had seen others’ faces before. It was widely known that, although Wei WuXian’s surname was not Jiang, he was the leading disciple of the sect leader of the YunmengJiang Sect—Jiang FengMian, and also the son of his friend who had passed away. In fact, the sect leader regarded him as his own child. This, along with how youths were not as concerned with status and ancestry as elders, they were soon friends. Only a few sentences passed, and everyone started to call others older brothers or younger brothers.

(Chapter 13, Exiled Rebels translation)

And Wei Wuxian isn’t treated as an equal at school, either; when he and his friends get up to mischief, he’s frequently the only one punished. Nie Huaisang even notes that Lan Qiren seems to be far harder on him than the other students:

Nie HuaiSang spoke, “Why does it seem like old man Lan is especially strict towards you? He always directs his scoldings at you.”

(Chapter 14, Exiled Rebels translation)

And we see Wei Wuxian being the sole one punished out of a group taken for granted by his friends multiple times:

As a result of cheating notes flying everywhere in the air, Lan WangJi suddenly attacked during the test, and caught a few initiators of the commotion. Lan QiRen exploded with anger, writing letters to the prominent clans to tell on them. He loathed Wei WuXian—in the beginning, although these disciples could hardly sit still, at least nobody started anything, and their buttocks were able to stick to their legs. However, now that Wei Ying came, the originally spineless brats were influenced by his encouragement, venturing out at night and drinking alcohol however they pleased. The unhealthy practices grew greater and greater. As he had expected, Wei Ying was one of the biggest threats to humanity!

Jiang FengMian replied, “Ying has always been like this. Please take care to discipline him, Mr. Lan.”

And so, Wei WuXian was punished again.

(Chapter 14, Exiled Rebels translation)

The boys were all cheating, but Wei Wuxian is the one punished most severely. This happens when he's caught sneaking alcohol, too (though to be fair to Lan Wangji, he probably was only punishing him, and himself alongside him, for being outside after curfew when he threw them off the wall).

Of course, Jiang Cheng didn’t dare to say that Wei WuXian was at fault. Thinking back, it was them who urged Wei WuXian to buy liquor. Each and every one of them should have been punished. He could only speak in a vague way, “It’s fine, it’s fine; it’s not that serious! He can walk. Wei WuXian, why are you still up there?!”

(Chapter 18, Exiled Rebels translation)

It’s not entirely unreasonable for the one who gets caught to take the punishment (what’s he going to do, rat his friends out?) but their ready acceptance of this does fit into a pattern.

Jiang Cheng’s top was tied at his waist. Hearing his mother’s chastise, he hastily put it over his head. Madam Yu scolded again, “And you boys! Can’t you see that A-Li’s here? Who taught you brats to dress like this in front of a girl!?”

Of course, it was needless to think who led the group. Thus, Madam Yu’s next sentence, as usual, was “Wei Ying! Do you want to die!?”

[...]

He could still feel some pain in his back, so he tossed the paddles to someone else, sat down, and felt the stinging piece of flesh, “How unfair. Nobody else was wearing anything, but why was I the only one who got scolded and beaten up?”

Jiang Cheng, “Because you hurt the eye the most with no clothes on, for sure.”

[...]

Everyone nodded. Wei WuXian, “Thanks for the praise, you guys. I’m even starting to feel some goose bumps.”

The shidi, “You’re welcome, Da-Shixiong. You protect us every single time. You deserve even more!”

(Chapter 125, Lotus Seed Pod, Exiled Rebels translation)

While we know that Yu Ziyuan is an abusive person in general, she abuses Wei Wuxian far more harshly than anyone else, even the outer disciples. It’s made clear to us in Lotus Seed Pods that she whips him regularly over minor infractions:

Madam Yu was even angrier, “How dare you run! Come back right now and kneel!” As she spoke, she let loose her whip with a flip of her wrist. Wei WuXian felt a searing pain slash across his back. He loudly exclaimed, “Ow!” And almost tripped on the ground.

(Chapter 125, Lotus Seed Pod, Exiled Rebels translation)

And that his back is heavily scarred from it:

He felt his back, covered in scars both old and new, and still couldn’t hold back the question he’d be thinking about, “How awfully unfair. Why is it that I’m the only one who gets beaten up, whenever something happens?”

(Chapter 125, Lotus Seed Pod, Exiled Rebels translation)

Rumours about this even made it outside of Lotus Pier; during their visit to the ancestral hall years later, Lan Wangji even states that he heard about some of it:

Lan WangJi had on an expression of understanding, “Kneeling as punishment?”

Wei WuXian mused, “How did you know? That’s right. Madam Yu punished me almost every day.”

Lan WangJi nodded, “I have heard of a few things.”

Wei WuXian, “It’s so famous that even people outside Yunmeng, even you Gusu people know—how could it be ‘a few things’? But, to be honest, in all these years, I’ve never seen a second woman whose temper was as bad as Madam Yu’s. She told me to go to the ancestral hall and kneel no matter how small the matter was. Hahaha…”

(Chapter 87, Exiled Rebels translation)

Wei Wuxian’s lower social standing is definitely a part of why Yu Ziyuan is able to abuse him so terribly and receive little to no censure for it. Everyone at Lotus Pier simply takes it for granted, with the exception of Jiang Yanli who at least does try to deflect her mother when she is angry with Wei Wuxian:

Yet, all of a sudden, someone’s quiet voice drifted by Madam Yu’s ear, “Mom, do you want to eat some watermelon…”

[...]

Jiang YanLi almost cried from her mother’s pinching, mumbling, “Mom, A-Xian and the others were hiding here to relieve the heat and I came here on my own. Don’t blame them… Do… Do you want some watermelon… I don’t know who gave them to us, but it’s really sweet. Eating watermelon in the summer is great for cooling down and quenching thirst. I’ll cut them for you…”

(Chapter 125, Lotus Seed Pod, Exiled Rebels translation)

She both tries to deflect her mother from her anger, and also outright states that Wei Wuxian and the other boys weren’t at fault. Jiang Yanli seems to be the only one at Lotus Pier who ever does this.

After the war, Wei Wuxian attends social events at Jiang Cheng’s side but is never quite treated as an equal, either. See how at the Flower Banquet, Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue greet Jiang Cheng but not him:

Suddenly, a voice spoke, “Sect Leader Nie, Sect Leader Lan.”

Hearing the familiar voice, Wei WuXian’s heart jumped. Nie MingJue turned around again. Jiang Cheng came over, dressed in purple, hand on his sword.

And the person standing beside Jiang Cheng was none other than Wei WuXian himself.

He saw himself walk with hands behind his back, wearing all black. A flute in the shade of ink stuck to his waist, hanging down with crimson colored tassels. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Jiang Cheng, he nodded in this direction to show respect. Attitude slightly arrogant, he took on a profound, disdainful appearance. As Wei WuXian saw the stance of his younger self, the root of his teeth even cringed in soreness. He felt that he really was pretentious, and itched to just beat the hell out of himself.

Lan WangJi also saw Wei WuXian, who stood beside Jiang Cheng. The tip of his brows twitched ever so slightly. Soon afterward, his light-colored eyes returned to where they were, still looking forward in that composed way. Jiang Cheng and Nie MingJue nodded at each other with grave faces. Neither had anything unnecessary to say. After a hasty greeting, the two walked their separate ways. Wei WuXian saw his black-clothed self glance around as he finally saw Lan WangJi. He looked as if he was about to speak before Jiang Cheng came over and stood to his side.

(Chapter 49, Exiled Rebels translation)

They then proceed to talk about him and his lack of a sword behind his back, never having said a word to Wei Wuxian himself:

Nie MingJue’s gaze turned over again, “Why does Wei Ying not carry his sword?”

Carrying one’s sword was like wearing formal attire. In such gatherings, it was a non-negligible indication of etiquette. Those from prominent sects saw it as especially important. Lan WangJi responded in a lukewarm tone, “He had probably forgotten.”

Ning MingJue raised a brow, “He can even forget something like this?”

(Chapter 49, Exiled Rebels translation)

At Phoenix Mountain it also seems that Wei Wuxian is conditionally a member of the gentry, but not treated like an equal. Sometimes there are these more cheerful interactions:

Holding the flower, Lan WangJi seemed to be quite cold. His tone seemed cold as well, “Was it you?”

Wei WuXian immediately denied it, “No, it wasn’t.”

The maidens beside him spoke at once, “Don’t believe him. It was him!”

Wei WuXian, “How could you treat a good person like this? I’m getting angry!”

Giggling, the maidens pulled their reins and went to the formations of their own sects. Lan WangJi lowered the hand that he held the flower with and shook his head. Jiang Cheng spoke, “ZeWu-Jun, HanGuang-Jun, apologies. Don’t pay attention to him.”

Lan XiChen smiled, “That is fine. I will thank Young Master Wei’s kindness behind the flower in place of WangJi.”

(Chapter 69, Exiled Rebels translation)

But then he will be publicly disparaged and it is readily accepted by others. Jin Zixun first starts an argument with him by criticising Wei Wuxian for fighting Jin Zixuan, then turns the topic to Wei Wuxian’s having taken a third of the prey in the hunt.

Jin ZiXun, “Wei, just what what do you mean by going against ZiXuan so many times?”

[...]

Jin ZiXun sneered, “How is it presumptuous? How is any part of you not presumptuous? Today, in such an important hunt involving all of the sects, you really showed off your abilities, didn’t you? One third of the prey have been taken by you. You sure feel pleased, don’t you?”

[...]

He mocked, “But it’s only natural that you don’t think you’re in the wrong. It’s not the first time that Young Master Wei has disregarded the rules. You didn’t wear your sword in both last time’s flower banquet and this time’s hunt. It’s such a grand event, and you care nothing for courtesy. In what regard to you hold us, the people who are present with you?”

[...]

No disciple had ever dared say such lofty words in front of so many people. A moment later, as Jin ZiXun finally regained his composure, he yelled, “Wei WuXian! You’re only the son of a servant—how dare you be so bold!!!”

(Chapters 69-70, Exiled Rebels translation)

Naturally, Jin Zixun is able to weasel out of giving an apology, even though Jiang Yanli demands one. And guess who also takes a third of the prey, but this time without any censure?

Jin GuangYao, “In reality, not only did Young Master Wei keep a third of the prey to himself, our eldest brother has eliminated over half of the fays and the monsters as well.”

Hearing this, Lan XiChen laughed, “That is how Brother is like, after all.”

(Chapter 70, Exiled Rebels translation)

Never a Brother

As I’ve already mentioned, Wei Wuxian was never adopted by Jiang Fengmian, or adopted into the clan in general in even a distant way. And this nebulous ‘we’re letting you live with the main family as a charity, but you aren’t really one of us’ attitude also reflects in his relationship with Jiang Yanli.

I’ve already discussed how Wei Wuxian was more like a companion servant to Jiang Cheng than a brother. It’s also worth noting quickly that neither of them ever refers to the other as a brother. Wei Wuxian refers to Jiang Cheng as his shidi a few times, and Jiang Cheng never even refers to him as his shixiong (because Jiang Cheng views him as his servant, not as even a martial brother, I’d argue).

Only one member of the Jiang family ever does use familial terms to refer to Wei Wuxian: his shijie, Jiang Yanli. At Phoenix Mountain, when Wei Wuxian is being insulted by Jin Zixun, Jiang Yanli stands up and defends him, and states clearly that she considers Wei Wuxian a little brother:

The people who gathered around Jin ZiXun had on the same dark faces as he did. Yet, taking into consideration Jiang YanLi’s background, they didn’t dare talk back to her directly.

Jiang YanLi added, “Besides, hunting is hunting, so why bring the matter of discipline to the table? A-Xian is a disciple of the YunmengJiang Sect. He grew up with my brother and I, and so he’s as close as a brother is to me. Calling him the ‘son of a servant’—I’m sorry, but I won’t accept this. And thus…”

She straightened her back and raised her voice, “I hope that Young Master Jin ZiXun would apologize to Wei WuXian of the YunmengJiang Sect!”

(Chapter 70, Exiled Rebels translation)

It doesn’t come through in the Exiled Rebels translation, but she actually refers to Wei Wuxian as her didi in this scene, not her shidi. She’s trying to draw a line and state that Wei Wuxian is a part of the family. However, no one takes her seriously, and shortly afterwards we see Jin-furen insisting that Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian shouldn’t be walking alone together because it would be inappropriate.

Jiang YanLi whispered, “That’s not necessary. I’d like to have a few words with A-Xian. He can walk me back.”

Madam Jin raised her brows, looking Wei WuXian up and down. Her gaze was somewhat cautious, as if she was feeling displeased, “A young man and a young woman—you two can’t stick together all the time if nobody else is present.”

Jiang YanLi, “A-Xian is my younger brother.”

[...]

Wei WuXian lowered his head, “Excuse my absence, Madam Jin.”

He and Jiang YanLi bowed at the same time. As they turned around to leave, Madam Jin grabbed Jiang YanLi’s hand and refused to let her leave.

(Chapter 70, Exiled Rebels translation)

Jin Zixuan also never treats Wei Wuxian the way one might a brother who is still angered with him over his past dismissive treatment of his sister. For example, see their argument at the Flower Banquet:

Before he could see how Lan WangJi reacted, a series of clamor suddenly came from the other end of the base. Wei WuXian heard his own raging shout, “Jin ZiXuan! Don’t you forget about what things you said and what things you did? What do you mean by this, now?!”

Wei WuXian remembered. So it was this time!

On the other side, Jin ZiXuan also fumed, “I was asking Sect Leader Jiang, not you! The one I was asking about was also Maiden Jiang. How is that related to you?!”

[...]

Jin ZiXuan, “Sect Leader Jiang—this is our sect’s flower banquet, and this is your sect’s person! Are you going to look after him or not?!”

[...]

...Jiang Cheng’s voice came, “Wei WuXian, you can just shut your mouth. Young Master Jin, I’m sorry. My sister is doing quite well. Thank you for your concern. We can talk about this next time.”

Wei WuXian laughed coldly, “Next time? There is no next time! Whether or not she’s doing well isn’t any of his business, either! Who does he think he is?”

He turned around and started to leave. Jiang Cheng shouted, “Get back here! Where are you going?”

Wei WuXian waved his hands, “Anywhere is fine! Just don’t let me see that face of his. I never wanted to come, anyway. You can deal with whatever’s here yourself.”

Having been abandoned by Wei WuXian, Jiang Cheng’s face immediately clouded over.

[...]

Jiang Cheng stowed away the clouds on his face, “Don’t mind him. Look at how impolite he is. He’s used to such rude behavior at home.”

He then began to converse with Jin ZiXuan.

(Chapter 49, Exiled Rebels translation)

Jiang Cheng also quietly dismisses the notion of Wei Wuxian as a brother in relation to Jiang Yanli; when they visit to show him her wedding dress and she asks for a courtesy name, Jiang Cheng specifically says:

Jiang Cheng, “The courtesy name of my unborn nephew.”

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

Not our nephew, mine.

Even the disastrous invitation to Jin Ling’s one month celebration is framed as a favour to an old shidi, not a family member:

Jin ZiXun, “Since you’ve heard it from him already, you should know that I can’t wait. Don’t tell me that you’ll disregard your brother’s life for the sake of Sister-in-Law’s shidi?!”

Jin ZiXuan, “You clearly know that I’m not that kind of person! He might not necessarily be the one who cursed you with Hundred Holes either. Why are you so rash? I was the one who invited Wei WuXian to A-Ling’s full-month celebration anyways. If this is the way you do things, where does that leave me? Where does it leave my wife?”

Jin ZiXun raised his voice, “It’s best if he doesn’t attend! What does Wei WuXian think he is—does he deserve to attend our sect’s banquet? Whoever touches him gets nothing but a splash of black! ZiXuan, when you invited him, weren’t you worried that you, Sister-in-Law and A-Ling would receive an irremovable stain for the rest of your lives?!”

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

It’s clear that not only does wider society not consider Wei Wuxian and the Jiangs siblings...they themselves don’t, either. Wei Wuxian, after all, readily accepts that his relationship with them is over after he leaves the sect:

Before they parted, Jiang Cheng spoke, “We won’t see you off. It wouldn’t be good if someone saw us.”

Wei WuXian nodded. He understood that it wasn’t easy for the Jiang siblings to have come out here. If someone else saw them, all those things they did for the public to believe would be wasted. He spoke, “We’ll go first.”

[...]

He turned around, knowing that it’d be a long time before he’d get to see the people he was familiar with again.

But… right now, wasn’t he on his way to seeing people he was familiar with as well?

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

Cast Aside

The way cultivation society treats Wei Wuxian when he is not with the Jiangs is also very revealing. Any level of respect he is given is contingent on his position in the Jiang household, and when they aren’t around that minimal respect fades away. Look at how disrespectfully he is treated when he approaches Jin Zixun to ask for Wen Ning’s location.

Wei WuXian didn’t make small talk either, getting straight to the point, “No thanks. I don’t.” He nodded slightly at Jin ZiXun, “Young Master Jin, could I please have a word with you?”

Jin ZiXun, “If you have anything to say, come after our banquet is over.”

In reality, he didn’t want to talk to Wei WuXian at all. Wei WuXian could see this as well, “How long do I have to wait?”

Jin ZiXun, “Probably around six to eight hours. Or maybe ten to twelve. Or until tomorrow.”

Wei WuXian, “I’m afraid I can’t wait for that long.”

Jin ZiXun’s voice was arrogant, “You’ll have to wait even if you can’t.”

Jin GuangYao, “Young Master Wei, what do you need ZiXun for? Is it a pressing matter?”

Wei WuXian, “Pressing indeed. It allows for no delay.”

[...]

Jin ZiXun, “Wei WuXian, what do you mean? You came for him? You aren’t standing up for a Wen-dog, are you?”

Wei WuXian wore a broad grin, “Since when is it your business whether I’d like to stand up for him or cut his head off? Just give him to me!”

At the last sentence, the grin on his face vanished. His tone turned cold as well. It was clear that he had lost his patience. Many of the people within Glamor Hal shivered in fear. Jin ZiXun felt his scalp tingle as well. Yet, his anger soon soared. He shouted, “Wei WuXian, you are too bold! Did the LanlingJin Sect invite you today? And you dare run wild here. Do you really think that you’re invincible, that nobody has the courage to confront you? Do you want to overturn the Heavens?”

Wei WuXian smiled, “You’re comparing yourself to the Heavens? Excuse my language, but your face is a little too thick, isn’t it?”

[...]

Just as he was about to rebut, sitting on the foremost seat, Jin GuangShan spoke up.

His voice seemed kind, “It’s not anything too important anyways. You youngsters, why lose your tempers over such a thing? However, Young Master Wei, let me be fair here. Barging in when the LanlingJin Sect is holding a private banquet is indeed inappropriate.”

To say that Jin GuangShan didn’t mind what happened at Phoenix Mountain would be impossible. This was also why he only smiled when Jin ZiXun bickered with Wei WuXian but didn’t stop them, and only spoke up when Jin ZiXun was at the disadvantage.

Wei WuXian nodded, “Sect Leader Jin, it was never my intention to disturb your private banquet. My apologies. However, the whereabouts of the people whom Young Master Jin took are still unclear. Just a moment of delay, and it might be too late. One of the group had once saved me before. I will definitely not sit back and watch. Please do not feel pressured. I will make amends for this at a later date.”

[...]

After a few laughs, he continued, “Sect Leader Jin, let me ask you something else. Do you think that, because the QishanWen Sect is gone, the LanlingJin Sect has all right to replace it?”

All was silent within Glamor Hall.

Wei WuXian added, “Everything has to be given to you? Everyone has to listen to you? Looking at how the LanlingJin Sect does things, I almost thought that it was the QishanWen Sect’s empire all over again.”

[...]

A guest cultivator on his right shouted, “Wei WuXian! Watch your words!”

Wei WuXian, “Did I say something wrong? Forcing living people to be bait and beating them up whenever they refused to obey—is this any different from what the QishanWen Sect does?”

Another guest cultivator stood up, “Of course it’s different. The Wen-dogs did all kinds of evil. To arrive at such an end is only karma for them. We only avenged a tooth for a tooth, letting them taste the fruit that they themselves had sown. What’s wrong with this?”

Wei WuXian, “Take revenge on the ones who bite you. Wen Ning’s branch doesn’t have much blood on their hands. Don’t tell me that you find them guilty by association?”

Another person spoke, “Young Master Wei, is it that they don’t have much blood on their hands just because you say so? These are only your one-sided words. Where’s the evidence?”

[...]

Jin GuangShan stood up as well, his face a mixture of shock, anger, fear, and hatred, “Wei WuXian! Just because… Sect Leader Jiang isn’t here doesn’t mean you can be so reckless!”

Wei WuXian’s voice was harsh, “Do you think that I wouldn’t be reckless if he were here? If I wanted to kill someone, who could stop me, and who would dare stop me?!”

[...]

“Young Master Wei really is too impulsive. How could he speak in such a way in front of so many sects?”

Lan WangJi spoke coldly, “Was he wrong?”

Jin GuangYao paused almost unnoticeably. He immediately laughed, “Haha. Yes, he’s right. But it’s because he’s right that he can’t say it in front of them, correct?”

Lan XiChen seemed as if he was deep in thought, “Young Master Wei’s heart really has changed.”

(Chapter 72, Exiled Rebels translation)

The only person at this banquet who speaks to Wei Wuxian respectfully is Jin Guangyao, a consummate manipulator who is also of a lower social status. Everyone else speaks to him dismissively, refusing to respect his request for Wen Ning’s location even though he states that Wen Ning helped him during the war. Wei Wuxian is extremely polite at the beginning of this conversation, and only slowly begins to lose his temper when Jin Zixun speaks rudely and Jin Guangshan decides to bring up the matter of the Yinhufu (Wei Wuxian is right in suspecting him of wanting to replace Qishan Wen, of course, and that it’s very bold of them to think they have the right to a spiritual tool of his just because...they’re rich?).

When the sects meet at Koi Tower to discuss the breakout at Qiongqi Path, no one considers Wei Wuxian as an independent agent who they might actually want to meet and negotiate with themselves. He is a wayward servant of Yunmeng Jiang who the sect leader has failed to keep in hand.

Jiang Cheng only spoke after a few moments, “What he did was indeed a bit too much. Sect Leader Jin, I apologize to you in place of him. If there’s any way at all to help the situation, please let me know. I’ll definitely compensate for things however I can.”

[...]

Jin GuangShan, “Sect Leader Jiang, Wei Ying is your right-hand man. You value him a lot. All of us know this. However, on the other hand, it’s hard to tell whether or not he actually respects you. In any case, I’ve been a sect leader for so many years and I’ve never seen the servant of any sect dare be so arrogant, so proud. Have you heard what they say outside? Things like how during the Sunshot Campaign the victories of the YunmengJiang Sect were all because of Wei WuXian alone—what nonsense!”

[...]

Lan WangJi sat with his back straight, speaking in a tone of absolute tranquility, “I did not hear Wei Ying say this. I did not hear him express the slightest disrespect towards Sect Leader Jiang either.”

[...]

The good thing was that, not long after he felt awkward, Jin GuangYao came to save the day, exclaiming, “Really? That day, Young Master Wei busted into Koi Tower with such force. He said too many things, one more shocking than the next. Perhaps he said a few things that were along those lines. I can’t remember them either.”

[...]

Jin GuangShan followed the transition, “That’s right. Anyhow, his attitude has always been arrogant.”

One of the sect leaders added, “To be honest, I’ve wanted to say this since a long time ago. Although Wei WuXian did a few things during the Sunshot Campaign, there are many guest cultivators who did more than him. I’ve never seen anyone as full of themselves as him. Excuse my bluntness, but he’s the son of a servant. How could the son of a servant be so arrogant?”

[...]

“In the beginning, Sect Leader Jin asked Wei Ying for the Tiger Seal with nothing but good intentions, worried that he wouldn’t be able to control it and lead to a disaster. He, however, used his own yardstick to measure another’s intents. Did he think that everyone is after his treasure? What a joke. In terms of treasures, is there any sect that doesn’t hold a few treasures?”

“I knew that something would eventually happen if he continued on the ghostly path—look! His killing intents are being revealed already. Killing indiscriminately those from our side just because of a few Wen-dogs…”

[...]

Jin GuangShan continued, “Sect Leader Jiang, you’re not like your father. It’s just been a couple of years since the reestablishment of the YunmengJiang Sect, precisely when you should be displaying your power. And he doesn’t even know to avoid suspicions. What would the Jiang Sect’s new disciples think if they saw him? Don’t tell me you’d let them see him as their role model and look down on you?”

He spoke one sentence after another, striking the iron while it was still hot. Jiang Cheng spoke slowly, “Sect Leader Jin, that’s enough. I’ll go to Burial Mound and deal with this.”

Jin GuangShan felt satisfied, speaking in a sincere tone, “That’s the spirit. Sect Leader Jiang, there are some things, some people that you shouldn’t put up with.”

(Chapter 73, Exiled Rebels translation)

This is very reminiscent of the way that Jin Zixuan would often turn around and say, ‘Why aren’t you controlling your servant?’ to Jiang Cheng whenever he had a dispute with Wei Wuxian over his treatment of Jiang Yanli.

When Jiang Cheng goes to the Burial Mounds and Wei Wuxian defects from Yunmeng Jiang in order to help the sect save face, Jiang Cheng treats this as a personal betrayal. He not only challenges Wei Wuxian to a duel but then announces that Wei Wuxian has betrayed Yunmeng Jiang and declared himself the enemy of cultivation society:

After the fight, Jiang Cheng told the outside that Wei WuXian defected from the sect and was an enemy to the entire cultivation world. The YunmengJiang Sect had already cast him out. From then on, no ties remained between them—a clear line was drawn. Henceforth, no matter what he did, they’d have nothing to do with the YunmengJiang Sect!

(Chapter 73, Exiled Rebels translation)

“Wei Wuxian has betrayed the sect, and publicly regards all cultivation sects as enemy! Yunmeng Jiang Sect hereby expels him, breaking all ties with him and drawing a clear line between us. Henceforth, no matter what this person does, it will have nothing to do with Yunmeng Jiang Sect!”

(Modao Zushi Radio Drama, Season 3 Episode 5, Suibian Subs)

Naturally, no one ever questions this or wants to hear Wei Wuxian’s side of the story. Jiang Cheng is a sect leader and Wei Wuxian his servant, and that is all cultivation society needs to know.

In Conclusion

Wei Wuxian was never really part of the Jiang family. The wider social view was that he was a servant who was lucky to be taken in by the family and allowed to live in the main house alongside the sect leader’s children. He’s accepted into cultivation society conditionally, but only as someone who remains a rank below everyone else.

This attitude isn’t just the wider social view which the family themselves disregard; they all play into it. Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Cheng both actively enforce it, Jiang Fengmian passively enforces it, and Jiang Yanli tries but fails to break through the social barriers between them.

#mdzs #mdzs meta #modao zushi

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inexplicifics · 2 years

Note

I had a really bad really sad day (in that I didn't notice I missed a part of my philosophy exam until too late to do anything about it). Could I request a snippet of the Aiden and Sasha fic to make me feel better please?

With the caveat that some or all of this may get rewritten...have some Aiden and Sasha and Mantikittens:

“Hullo, Mantikittens,” Aiden says, and all four girls’ eyes go wide.

“Mantikittens?” the littlest one, Ada, says, and giggles.

Aren laughs, too, hoarse and painful but clearly amused. “Mantikittens,” he says, and whistles an affirmative note.

“Have you a favorite bird?” Sasha asks. “I’ve done one for each of the girls.” He tugs another piece of parchment out from under the one with the nuthatch, and Aiden marvels at the beautifully rendered shrike, heron, and kestrel.

“How about a pheasant?” Aiden suggests.

“Oh, yes, those are delightful!” Sasha agrees, and starts sketching, all four girls bending close to watch his quill. Aiden firmly suppresses the urge to bat at it as it moves. The bird takes shape almost like magic, going from nothing but a few lines to an unmistakable pheasant so swiftly Aiden can’t pinpoint the moment it slots into place.

“Shit, you’re good at that,” Zia says. “Never seen nothin’ like it.”

“I’ve been practicing since I was younger than Ada,” Sasha says. “When I started, I was quite terrible at it. And I still can’t draw much besides birds.” He makes one last little line, and puts the quill back into the inkwell Maja is holding steady. “There we go. One pheasant.”

“Looks like I ought to be able to pounce on it and bring it home for supper,” Aiden says.

“I’ll do better if I can get some paints,” Sasha says, shrugging a little. “Aren? Is there a bird you’d like me to draw?”

Aren makes a soft, thoughtful noise. “Eagle,” he says at last. “Flying.”

“I can do that,” Sasha agrees, and takes a fresh sheet of parchment, sketching out a broad-winged eagle soaring, so beautifully that Aiden almost thinks he can feel the wind lifting the bird’s wings. He hands it up to Aren when it’s done, and Aren whistles approval, eyebrows rising in astonishment.

“Please tell me someone’s offered you Swallow,” Aiden says. “We can’t all have been too fucking stupid to offer.”

“Too weak,” Aren rasps.

“Master Merten said it would be at least a week of decent food before Aren will be strong enough to bear the toxicity of Swallow,” Maja says.

“The food here is amazing,” Ada adds.

“Mistress Marlene and her cooks do a wonderful job,” Aiden agrees.

“Not spicy,” Aren sighs.

“Well, no,” Aiden allows. “It’s really just the Manticores and some of us Cats who like spicy food. I can get you some hot pepper if you like, we keep some on hand, and I know the Manticores have quite a lot in their cellar.”

“There’s a cellar just for the Manticores?” Elena asks curiously. “Is there one for each School?”

“No, just yours,” Aiden says. “Because your Schoolmates are the only ones crazy enough to lace White Gull with arsenic, and the rest of us don’t necessarily want to drink that, so it’s kept in a cellar just for your School.”

“With arsenic?” Maja blurts. “Why?”

“Because they like the taste,” Aiden says, shrugging. “White Gull’s technically a poison anyway. We can bear it. We just don’t let the humans try it.”

“I have been very firmly cautioned against ever trying Witcher-strength alcohol,” Sasha confirms.

“I want some,” Zia says.

“Eighteen,” Aren rasps at once. Zia scowls.

“We don’t let the trainees have any until they’re eighteen,” Aiden says, backing Aren up. “It’s not good for growing lads, so I can’t imagine it’s good for growing lasses, either. Even the other Mantikittens don’t get White Gull until they’re old enough.”

Zia’s scowl fades. “Fine,” she grumbles. “I guess if the boys don’t get to either, it’s fair.”

#questions answered

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kaijurakunsobs · 3 years

Text

You will feel joy, one day

master list for this series

sorry for the wait y'all, I had to torture myself into listening to the same song to get the inspo I needed for this next chapter which is READYMADE - Ado (it has English subtitles btw)

Hope you guys enjoy this!

Summary: It's been clear from the start that you won't go down without putting up a fight, the tone in your voice and stand are nothing but infuriating for Heisenberg, just like his mere presence fills you with annoyance. The factory is enormous and whatever he's doing here could get you killed, but even in this kingdom of oil and rusted metal, there's a bit of kindness.

Right now, you would accept the title of naive, because you were when you thought this man would share his secrets with you, instead...he's giving you a fucking tour of the entire place, wildly pointing and all the doors and doing sharp turns, taking you up and down flights of stairs "I hope you don't get lost, darlin', we don't want you ending in the wrong place, right?" there's mockery in his voice as he speaks over his shoulder, halting to a stop and making you trip and crash against him.

"This is the boiler room, you might want to familiarize yourself with this place in particular" a snarky smile appearing on his lips

Peeking inside makes you go pale and sigh in frustration, it's a mess, you can see cables, crudely fixed with tape, more flammable materials, and so many oil spills on the ground, "I can also familiarize with the rest of the fabric because this dump could explode any day"

His smile falls and that expression of annoyance, that just seems to be for you, comes back in no time. Releasing a cloud of smoke he turns around and starts walking faster, slowly regaining his showman's voice and the exuberance of his movements renew with the occasional laugh, is enough to make you tune him out again, looking at whatever you find more interesting, nose scrunching up with whenever there's something that unsettles or makes you question this man's leadership and care for this place. If you do take the role of helping him, you know you're gonna exploited day and night.

He's not blind or stupid, he knows you are doing everything but listening to him, every time he looks over his shoulder to make sure you are following and paying him some god damn attention, he will always see you eyeing everything, dissecting the place, and doing a face that just speaks volumes of how unimpressed you are by his life's work, but it's not like he will tell you about his plans, it's too soon for that, what if you are just a little spy under Miranda's orders?

It rubs him the wrong way how adamant she was on you being under his orders, super-sized bitch didn't raised too much hell, which also puts him on edge, it just doesn't feel normal for him. In any other situation where Miranda has favored him over Dimitrescu, and it wasn't because "mother" gave her that heartfelt speech Karl being all alone on his iron tower, Moreau is the forgotten child of the bunch and has to beg for almost everything, Miranda is already pissed with Donna and her botanical gig, let alone, the way she uses her cadou to just make dolls move.

That left him in the position akin to a middle child, he's just there, occasionally remembered and rarely to give him treats or surprises. He's used to scavenging for materials, do the occasional grave robbing or take the corpses the other Lords leave behind.

So, why did she left you with him?

"Lastly but no less important! the living quarters"

You have been so lost in thought, you didn't noticed that his "fantastical tour" is over, and you are back to the front of the complex...shit, you didn't even paid attention to where everything is, you're gonna get so lost if you try to navigate this place on your own.

After entering the brute closes the door behind you and goes to the left office, you can hear him mumbling under his breath and things being moved around, you don't know how long he's going to be in there, so you turn your attention to the rest of the room.

From everything you have seen, this place is the cleanest one and it makes you think of the layout in your family's factory. It looks like he repurposed what used to be the waiting area, there's a kitchen in the right corner, a couple of sofas that had seen better days, a lot of blueprints have been left on the coffee table. To the left, it's the main office, a lot bigger and the tinted glass on the door has the name Heisenberg hand-painted on it, classy, you suppose that that's his room? you don't care, opting for getting close to the blueprints, his handwriting is atrocious and there are notes everywhere, how interesting, one of the workers used to say that was a sign of a brilliant mind.

"You are not allowed to go there, a'right?" hearing him so close makes you jump, when did he come back? from the tone of his voice, you might be right, it's either his bedroom "This one, however! this one is just for you" he says oh so sweetly when pointing at the smaller office to the right opening the door rather unceremoniously.

Now you get why the rest of this area is so clean and clutter-free, motherfucker pushed all the trash and old furniture in there, it's dusty and the air, somehow, is stale only in this place, you can see cobwebs "Since I'm being kind enough to let you sleep on this side and not in the cellars, I think is fair that you take care of the mess, don't you think?"

"Can't I just sleep in one of the couches?"

"Of course not, we don't want my precious mechanic to get sick, right?" condescending asshole, he even smiles at you, showing you his teeth in what you identify as an act of intimidation

"Of course we don't want that, my Lord! but, I do must say, you have been ill-mannered, showing me around your domain yet...you haven't told me your name when introductions were supposed to be made long ago" it's your turn to give him teeth flashing smile, his going a bit forced

"Well you see sweetheart, I would have done it earlier, but I came encountered a disrespectful brat that decked me in the face as soon as we met"

"Really now? Perhaps, this brat was done with being manhandled and reacted accordingly to how they felt" the sardonic smile on your face grows and you can see how much it pisses him off, and that shouldn't make you proud.

The man is looking, more like attempting, to look down on you, clicking his tongue loudly and in a dissatisfied manner, with complete derision, he gives you, the closest thing to a respectful bow "My name is Karl Heisenberg and I'm one of the four Lords working under Miranda's orders"

In response, you give him a curtsy and use your best sarcastic tone, just for him "It's such an honor to meet you, my lord. I must say I'm no noble but I do HOPE you may remember the name of this pheasant girl, Y/N, L/N Y/N"

He doesn't appreciate the way you talk to him or how you don't even try to hide how little you respect or fear him, but he needs you alive to accelerate and optimize the factory's production, under other circumstances? he would have thrown you down to let the Sturm have some fun, but he won't, at least for now.

"So, Miss Y/N...let me give you a...welcoming gift" he's harsh when trusting a bundle of crumpled clothes and old boots into your arms, pushing you back hard enough that you almost lose your balance "I don't expect you to always wear my hand-me-downs, this is a momentary arrangement"

"Oh my! so generous of you, to clothe this poor village girl with your own garments, I am so thankful for this, however, if I may ask for a tiny favor...can I know where your bathroom is? I don't what to soil this fine fabric with my dirty body"

You don't like the way he smiles at you, with one hand he grabs your shoulder and with the other he opens the door, pushing you towards what used to be the employee's showers, there's mold and broken mirrors, a lot of the shower heads are gone and the only one that seems to be functioning is leaking.

"Serve yourself, princess, just know this...there's only cold water, the hot water stopped working years ago and I haven't felt like repairing it, I hope you enjoy your shower!"

And with that, he leaves you, finally alone but unnerved on how easily he could come back and just stare at you like a creep. But you need a shower, there's grime and dirt caked to your body and it's starting to get disgusting and itchy. So you swallow your pride and leave the borrowed clothes over the small wall separating the showers from the rest of the place and brace yourself to what might be the worst moment of the day so far.

Later you are cursing him as loud as you can, he didn't lie when he said that only the cold water worked, but you would say it was freezing, his clothes are uncomfortably big on you, and smell of faint sweat and like these were left tucked away for a long time, the boots are the best part, these have been broken in nicely and they fit you...who are you kidding? the damn things are falling apart and you feel like a clown with how big they are.

That has left you with the shining crown of the shit show that's been this whole day! the trash in your new room, you had to box so many useless papers, look everywhere to find one measly broom, and use the remains of the gown you came in with to keep your hair out of your face and as a bandana to cover your nose and mouth.

From all the old furniture in the room, the only useful stuff is the old desk, a sofa that somehow survived without being eating by termites but might be infested with cockroaches, and a lamp. It's not much, but it's something.

All this moving around now has brought a new problem.

You are starving.

You can't remember when Miranda took you, let alone when was your last meal or if you were fed during your time in the cell. But Heisenberg's fridge is empty, there's only a handful of onions and those have roots and sprouts coming out already. There's nothing substantial in the cupboards or anywhere for that matter.

You doubt there might anything to eat in this place, but, you better give it a try, better die trying than going to sleep with a grumbling stomach, right? But, you didn't learn jackshit from him and you can't remember anything from the directions Heisenberg gave you.

Fuck it.

Slowly you creep out of the small apartment and peek outside, looking around assures you that the coast is clear. This could be a great learning experience! no matter how much of a dick this man is, there's something of value in his words and maybe, just maybe, you should pay more attention when he talks...MAYBE.

The place is a labyrinth of stairs, broken walls turned into hallways and sealed doors, you do have half a mind to remember which doors and areas he pointed as "out of bounds" for you, which is a surprise, seeing how massive the place is.

Under the stench of grease and smoke, you notice, the tasty scent of stew...close, very close, your poor stomach twisting painfully and mouth rapidly filling with saliva, you start following the heavenly aroma until you reach an old cargo lift, a large man sits there and for a moment that makes you stop in your tracks.

The man is surrounded by bags and crates filled with stuff from fruits to what you guess are various pieces of machinery and other objects hard to identify in the low light "Aaaaah...a new customer perhaps? You must be Lord Heisenberg's new assistant, are you not?"

He smiles with true kindness and something similar to pity, meaty hands adorned with gold rings beacon you close "Come come, miss...?"

"Uuuuuuuh...I'm Y/N, nice to meet you..."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance miss Y/N, you may call me The Duke"

There's something infectious in him that makes you relax your shoulders and walk closer to him "So...what do you do here Duke?"

"What? well, I'm nothing but a humble merchant, occasionally I set up shop here in the factory, especially when I have a delivery or things that may spark Lord Heisenberg's interest, and now that you are here, I will make a note to bring stuff you could use too"

"I...I would appreciate the gesture, thanks" the small sincere smile in your face drops when your stomach decides to grumble loud enough to be heard by the Duke, the man laughing at the sound, making your embarrassment worst.

"Would like to accompany me with dinner, dear? I have made plenty and this could be a small...celebratory feast for you"

"Celebratory? no offense, but...there's nothing to celebrate"

"Aren't you alive and able to walk?" he's so careful when serving some stew in a bowl, making sure not to spill a drop "I think that surviving whatever happened to you, is worth celebrating"

The bowl is warm in your hands and the smell is just divine, you take a seat on the floor waiting for the Duke to serve his bowl and then you dig in, sighing in appreciation when the rich taste of the broth fills your mouth, the softness of the meat and the carrots. You can see the Duke smile with pride when you compliment his cooking, enjoying each spoonful to the fullest.

"It's getting quite late Y/N and Lord Heisenberg is one to rise early, I suggest you go to bed or you end up feeling too tired tomorrow"

"Yeah...thanks for the meal Duke, I really appreciate it"

"Don't mention it and remember, the Duke's Emporium is here to satisfy all your shopping needs!"

You bid the man farewell and do the trek back to your room, taking time to memorize the way to the lift and the living quarters, the man might be a merchant but you want to get to know more about him, he seems nice, he's been the nicest one so far.

The living area feels cold and so terribly empty, there's no sign of Heisenberg anywhere, which you are thankful for. Only after entering your room and laying on your "bed", waiting a bit to hear any sound that might belong to the Lord, when only the sounds of the factory echo back to you do you dare to cry.

It starts slowly, your eyes fixated on the ceiling, then the flood gates open and you start to sob and scream, tears running down the side of your face to get lost in your hair leaving wet patches in their wake. But your crying evolves into fear, panic, raged breathing, and asking hands, all the weight of what happened today swallows you whole.

You don't know where to start, the way you growled at Heisenberg in the church, HOW he was able to move heavy metal without touching it? and all those corpses suspended ton hooks...the howls and things banging against the doors, the cruelty in how Heisenberg tossed you around and screamed in your face. How do you even managed to put and kept that brave face on when you were so scared is beyond you, you did it and that's enough.

The rapid and irregular movement of your chest does nothing but make your side hurt, the pain shoots up and down your body, making you curl on your side to alleviate the pressure if only a bit.

You want to die...but not like this, not terrified for your existence, not at the hands of a volatile man that can crush you with his hammer any day.

You want to live, but to live with your life depending on how well you perform your role? that's not a life at all.

Exhaustion and fatigue eventually take you away into a dreamless sleep, your last thought is...what's going to happen tomorrow?

You don't know, but as the Duke said, you survived whatever Miranda did to you and you will survive this too, no matter what, you will live.

#karl heisenberg #resident evil village #karl heisenberg x reader #re8 #x reader #the duke

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teawaffles · 3 years

Text

The Conspiratorial Bullet: Chapter 2

“Oh my…… I thought this would be nothing more than a war game, but it’s certainly more nerve-wracking than I expected.”

The participants had taken their places, and around five minutes had passed since the game began. Kevin was whispering to Albert beside him as they walked, while pointing the gun he’d received in every direction around him. But in contrast to the jittery man, Albert had the relaxed air of a soldier.

“Certainly, this is a feeling of tension one wouldn’t normally get to experience. In fact, the enemy might just be around that corner.”

“What!? Really?”

Panicked, Kevin’s eyes darted all around them in a fluster. That disproportionate reaction elicited a wry laugh from Albert.

“Although it’s important to be aware of your surroundings, if you’re that stiff, your movements will be slow when it’s time to fight. Please relax a little.”

“I-I see. Yes, you’re right……”

Kevin nodded. Beside him, Albert’s guard was impeccable as he watched the leaves swaying in the slight breeze.

The playing field encompassed the entire forest. That said, as it wasn’t a vast area, there was no danger of getting lost. In addition, there was a little cabin in the woods, used on a daily basis by the gamekeeper who managed the hunting grounds; as they had obtained permission to use it during the game, indoor battles were also an option.

For the purposes of safety, all players were obliged to wear spectacles shaped to resemble goggles, as well as bulletproof vests. The guns they had been issued fell into two categories: revolvers and sniper rifles. As a forfeit, and also to pass the time, eliminated players were tasked to feed pheasant chicks at a game bird nursery a good distance away.

Incidentally, Herder had also wanted to impose a severe punishment in the event a gun was damaged. Foreseeing that this would create needless worry, Moran and the others had swiftly hushed him before the words left his mouth.

Thinking back to the explanation of the rules, Kevin looked at the revolver in his hand.

“In any case, this gun is exquisitely crafted. As it was mentioned earlier that the guns used fake bullets, I imagined it would resemble a toy, but it looks exactly like the real thing.”

“I’m pleased to hear that, though it’s all due to Herder’s exceptional skill. I heard he oversaw the creation of these weapons down to the finest details.”

Kevin looked at the card attached to his gun with string. Written on it was a number 8.

“I see: so this is a measure to prevent the guns from getting lost. But if they are so important, I thought it would be safer to carve the numbers directly onto them.”

“You may be right; in which case, we may’ve caused everyone some inconvenience.”

Albert said that with a slightly apologetic tone, and Kevin waved it off.

“No, no — if anything, it reflects his passion, and I honestly respect that. Even though I work in a different field, I have a lot to learn from him as a professional.”

“Thank you very much. I’m sure Herder would be delighted to hear that,” Albert replied, with sincere joy.

However, in an instant, Kevin’s expression seemed to grow a little darker.

“Still, maybe I shouldn’t have brought Helena here after all. She absolutely insisted on coming, so I relented, but with the guns looking so real, that…… I wonder if it’ll remind her of that incident.”

Albert could sense what he was trying to say.

“For that, I sincerely apologise. This event must seem somewhat inappropriate after what she went through.”

Hearing Albert take his remark so seriously, Kevin tried to explain himself in a fluster.

“N-No, it’s alright, I did not mean it as criticism. Besides, Helena seemed to be especially enjoying herself too.”

“Nonetheless, please allow me to apologise, for it may be the case that she’s simply putting up a strong front.”

At that, Kevin cocked his head in confusion.

“……Then, why did you decide to hold this game?”

Albert’s reply sounded almost as if he was speaking to himself.

“——Because it’s part of our ‘plan’.”

“Huh?”

Unsure of the meaning behind that word, the question fell from his lips before he could stop himself. But Albert did not elaborate further.

The conversation had unwittingly ground to a halt. Just as Kevin was searching for a different topic to talk about, Albert’s sharp gaze landed on a nearby thicket.

“There’s someone there.”

“Huh? Really?”

Bewildered, Kevin looked in the same direction. Then they heard the sound of leaves rustling, and the undergrowth parted to reveal an elderly nobleman.

Seeing the person before them, Albert lowered his gun. A warm smile rose to his face.

“……So it was you, Lord Andy. I thought you were the enemy.” [1]

“Hello, Albert-kun. Just for fun, I thought I’d hide and see how long it took you both to spot me, but it seems you discovered me instantly. As expected of the young, your perceptiveness is incredibly sharp,” he laughed, ruffling his own short white hair. He was also on the same team as Albert and Kevin.

The elderly nobleman was Andy Krueger, whose estate extended across the surrounding lands; he also owned the hunting grounds on which the game was being held. Today’s game had been brought into reality after Albert proposed the idea to him.

For such an important gathering on the social calendar, one would normally be hesitant to transform it into an unorthodox event like this. But Andy had jumped at the offer, and even offered his opinions on the finer points of the game. Because of this generous and broad-minded nature of his, he also had the trust of the other nobles.

At the man’s arrival, for some reason, Kevin sighed in relief.

“Please don’t surprise me like that — unlike Lord Albert, I was frightened half to death.”

“Sorry about that, Kevin-kun. But aren’t you being too timid? Have a little more nerve!”

“I’ll do my best.”

At their friendly banter, Albert seemed curious.

“Are both of you already acquainted?”

“Yes,” Kevin affirmed. “We got to know each other when Helena’s father and I were gaining recognition in London. Ever since that time, the nobility had not looked fondly upon us, and only Lord Andy treated us as equals.”

Kevin looked gratefully at the nobleman as he said this, and Andy clapped his shoulder heartily.

“Those aristocrats are really quite averse to the changing times, it seems. But I have no interest in such dreadful traditions. Even at the gathering earlier, they were keeping their distance and saying such rude things that I had to tell them off. Although I hadn’t seen them in a while, because of that, I didn’t even get a chance to say hello— Ah, apologies.”

“No, it’s fine, Lord Andy. You don’t have to apologise,” Kevin said, waving both hands in the air. “Rather, after hearing that you went to such lengths for a good-for-nothing like me, I’m truly grateful.”

“What’s this? Timid as ever, I see,” Andy barked. “You’re an excellent businessman, so why not act like it?”

Then the elderly nobleman’s expression, which had been cheerful thus far, clouded over just a little.

“Nevertheless, I still feel sorry for your friend. At least, his daughter Helena seems to be doing well…… Have there been no clues even now?”

Kevin’s tone also grew heavy.

“……None at all. Helena believes he’s alive, but personally, I think he’s no longer……”

“He’d suddenly vanished, didn’t he?”

Out of the blue, Albert cut in. The two men were startled, but Albert continued with a somewhat knowing look.

“After the incident at the department store, I became curious, and tried doing some research into it myself. It seems there are various peculiarities about this case. For one, the store Helena’s father opened with Mr Kevin had been a success, but one day, he simply disappeared without warning. On the night he was thought to have disappeared, when he was having dinner at home, a friend testified that nothing had seemed particularly off about him.”

“Moreover, that was the last time I saw him. I never thought it would be the last conversation we’d have together……”

Kevin — the friend who’d testified — said so in a thin voice, the corners of his mouth twitching as if in self-mockery.

“Of course, at first, the police suspected that I had something to do with it. They even went to the trouble of thinking up a motive: that as a co-owner, I would stand to gain all the store’s profits if he were to disappear.”

Thinking back to that false accusation, Kevin’s shoulders drooped. Seeing that, Andy addressed him in a droll voice.

“Come now, you never know — one day he might just come home all of a sudden. I’ve told you before: there’s nothing we can do at present, and on top of that, worrying unnecessarily will only injure your health.”

“……You’re right. Besides, we’re supposed to be having fun right now: if I’m the only one being so grave, I’ll just be putting a damper on things.”

“Exactly, exactly. Well then, let’s get back to the game,” Andy urged, thumping him on the back.

Albert, who had been watching their exchange with a calm gaze, smiled gently.

“Indeed; let us focus on the competition first. By the way, it’s about time for us to get our blood pumping…… I’d like to advance deeper into enemy territory. What say you two?”

At his invitation, Kevin quickly shook his head.

“No no no! Frankly, since the start of the game, my heart’s felt like it’s about to explode! Anything more than this and it’ll stop altogether!”

But the elderly nobleman threw his head back in hearty laughter.

“You young people have so much energy, it’s making me jealous. Kevin-kun, you’ve got to watch and learn as well.”

“No…… When I think about what lies ahead, somehow my legs can’t stop shaking,” Kevin murmured weakly. His legs were indeed trembling pitifully, so much so it wouldn’t be surprising for them to give out any moment now.

Andy sighed, as if astonished.

“It can’t be helped then. Sorry, Albert-kun — it seems he can’t go on. I’d like to say that I’ll go with you in his stead, but…… for some reason, my legs have been hurting for a while now. Despite my high spirits, my years have bested me today,” he laughed wryly, his expression weak.

Albert nodded firmly.

“I understand. Well then, let’s part ways here. I wish you both the best of luck.”

“T-Take care……”

Watching Albert’s brave figure as he walked gallantly into the depths of the forest, Kevin felt ashamed at his own cowardice once again.

Scoreboard

🔹 Blue team: Albert, Jack, Fred, William, Kevin, Andy

🔺 Red team: Moran, Bond, Louis, Helena

Footnotes:

[1] Andy’s title is not formally given in the story, but judging from the amount of land he owns, I think it’s safe to say that he’s a member of the peerage like Albert, and hence should be addressed as “Lord Andy”. (Wikipedia)

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #the girl who sees rainbows

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spiltscribbles · 3 years

Text

this night seems so long!

~Notes: I’m reposting this and i’m still not happy with it :S rip XS

SEND ME A PROMPT | A REBLOG MEANS THE WORLD!

It is pleasant, indeed, while the summer lasts

with the mild pheasants' song ...

but now I feel the northern wind's blast—

its severe weather strong.

Alas! Alas! This night seems so long!

And I, because of my momentous wrong

now grieve, mourn and fast.

TS Eliot

The late summer chill seeps through the creeping windows into the flat that they once called home— the feebly standing, slowly disintegrating haven that was painted with laughter before lies, with hopeful kisses before hesitant touches. The cold burrows itself into Sirius’s bones and coats his every thought and nests deep inside of him until he’s more frost than man.

But then he sees Remus— beautiful and golden and perfect Remus— padding out their bedroom clad in Sirius’s oversized jumper that swallows his hands whole, and that familiarly gentle smile that makes his eyes glitter once his soft gaze rests on Sirius, and his sleep supple skin tastes like the things too beautiful to name. He tastes like Remus— like sunlight and parchment and whispered laughter and raspy groans and that’s all Sirius ever wants, has ever wanted.

“It’s September first.” He says once Sirius finally unlatches from his neck, red faced and pleased, and Sirius swears that Ganymede has nothing on him. That if he could he’d restructure every celestial star from above to follow the precise slope of his nose, and the pedal soft curve of his cheek, and the path of his jawline to temple. For everyone to worship him in ways he’s always deserved.

“We’ve made it another month,” Sirius retorts, mixes the splash of milk with the sugar in Remus’s Earl Gray, which is a travesty and a point of teasing throughout their whole relationship since they were nothing but lads. Sirius blames Remus’s beverage faux pas— including his preferential nature to black coffee—to being raised by a Frenchman for a mother, and Remus always counters that if Sirius was any more bloody English he’d be afraid that Queen Elizabeth would poach him for her next husband. Which of course always ended the argument because then Lily would laugh from besides him, and Sirius would glare along with James— both hating it when Remus and Lily’s Muggle references go over their heads like a second language they couldn’t speak.

But Lily’s not here, and neither is James. They’re tucked away in another safe house— the fourth in a calendar year, and they’re both going a bit mad if the letter Lily sent him only a few weeks ago is anything to go by. And Sirius aches for the both of them, aches for baby Harry— his one year old God son who he loves like nothing else. And how could he not? He’s Lily’s bright eyes set into James’s open face, has James’s warm, brown complexion but inherited Lily’s freckles too. He’s Sirius’s God son, and there’s a mad man after him, and sometimes it feels like Sirius’s brain is a mushy, muddled stew melting out of his scalp when he’s forced to contemplate on it for too long— to contemplate on how little Harry seems incapable of escaping the danger— because it goes back to the same name over and over again. The name of someone Sirius refuses to ever let himself contemplate for longer than a breath.

“Aye,” Remus says in that lilting, Welsh bread accent of his before he takes a slow sip and Sirius is left to study the sweep of his long lashes against his fine bones and how less than a fortnight ago that face Sirius adores so endlessly came home caked in mud and blood that was only partially Remus’s own and Sirius wasn’t allowed to ask what happened while he cleaned the cuts and kissed the healed pink skin with gentle reverence. “Maybe 82 will be our year Paddy.” Remus says with such raw yearning that it blows the wind out of Sirius like he’s just taken a bludger to the gut. And he feels so stupid and thankful all at once. Because of course those idl contemplations are nothing but ridiculous fodder. Of course Remus would never— could never.

“Yeah moony,” he says quietly. “Maybe it will.”

Sirius steps forwards, and he kisses him and Remus breathes out like he’s been holding it for a long while, and then his fingers slide into Sirius’s overgrown hair and tugs, and they’re lost in one another for the rest of the morning.

Three days later Remus leaves again under demands that he won’t ever disclose to Sirius— penance for the trust Sirius broke as a schoolboy with a prank that proved near deadly— and a week after that the Order gets news that the Prewettss were compromised, that it took five of those Death Eater bastards to finish them off, and that their older sister with seven kids of her own can’t bare to hold a public wake.

The cold gets worse, and Sirius doesn’t know where to step to avoid another avalanche; is afraid that with every move he takes, a landmine is waiting to blast.

The bare branches of the elderly tree outside their flat knocks against the partition that once bathed them in spilt sunlight and stolen serenity and careful comfort. It scrapes against the glass like the fingers of an inferi, accentuated by the sound of the whistling wind, crooning like the menacing melody by a milky eyed, haggard looking banshee. And everything is unmoving, everything is still— petrified for a moment in frozen history.

And Sirius feels his insides collapse when he remembers that he’ll never hear Gideon’s laughter or see Fabian sat next to Benjy again. It’s a generation lost, Sirius thinks morbidly, the way he always gets when Remus isn’t home and he’s tossing back shots of Fire-Whiskey like it’s what keeps his veins pumping life. A generation of them that’s being killed off one by one, a generation of Hogwarts graduates being obliterated and there’s not an end in sight and Sirius wants to scream. He wants to fight them with his bare hands. He wants to ravage each of their hideouts and use them as target practice for his unforgivables and he wants to run, God he wants to run. He wants James and Lily and Harry to come with him, wants to steel Remus in the middle of the night before he knows what’s even happening. He wants to escape it all and hold onto his family with a iron grip that can only be severed through death.

Sirius wants it so much that it begins to ache, to twist in his stomach and weep within the hollows of his bones.

But then the branches knock against the window once more, and he’s brought back to a reality the makes even idyllic daydreams like that something treacherous and awful. So he pours himself another finger and raises the glass to fallen friends and pretends that the throbbing in his heart is something that can be spelled away if he only works hard enough.

Remus comes home a week later and Sirius feigns that the sight of his lover doesn’t make Sirius picture Marlene’s twisted face of agony and Dorcas’s limp body at the feet of this dark wizard that has destroyed everything Sirius has ever known and tainted everything he has ever loved.

The safe house is sparsely decorated, save for the candle Lily’s always got burning and the succulent she keeps on a shelf besides a small portrait of Harry, tucked between one of her and James on their wedding day, and another of the five of them at their Hogwarts graduation.

It’s no home, especially not one for a baby that’s as curious and boisterous as little Harry. It’s a prison at best. still packed boxes strewn about the ground, and a tension permeating the air and it’s awful. But Sirius manages to forget about it when he glances to his right and sees a giggling Harry bouncing happily on Remus’s lap, and Remus is glowing in a way Sirius hasn’t seen for edging on a year. The stiffness threaded through his shoulders has dissipated and his smile is wide and he’s dotingly kissing Harry’s chocolate splattered cheek while James and Lily roll their eyes fondly from across the breakfast spread. And Sirius thinks that if this is all he sees for the rest of his life he would thank every God and every spirit above.

“Uncle Moony, you better be convincing Harry that if he doesn’t eat his berries that the boogie man will come and munch on his toes tonight,” Lily scolds half heartedly, which makes James drop a kiss to the crown of her head before topping off her tea.

“No toes, mommy! No toes!” Harry babbles in that in-between state of gargling and speech that is as precious as it is incomprehensible.

“Saucy boy,” Sirius chuckles, tousling Harry’s already hopelessly disheveled hair and kissing the corner of Remus’s lips that taste like hazelnut and blueberries and a bit like sunlight too. And he thinks that this is what happiness feels like— He’s nearly forgot.

“I’ll get’m washed up, shall I?” Remus says as he rises swiftly from his seat, Harry clapping excitedly.

“Good man,” James winks and Lily blows him a kiss. Remus looks down at Sirius, a brow cocked slightly.

“I’ll be up in a minute, yeah? Just wanted to help these plonkers with the dishes.”

Remus grins brightly and nods, and then, he stilts— like in hesitation— before kissing Sirius’s temple, promptly shuffling off and humming Harry an old French lullaby that he knows Hope once sang him when he was a boy.

And Sirius’s heart feels so full, so fragile, And Sirius hates that he didn’t tell him I love you, is afraid that the space of time that they’ll get to say that to one another is rapidly dwindling.

“We’re finishing up all the kinks in the plan,” James says, saddling up besides Sirius, handing him a sponge and keeping the dishcloth in his own. “You still want to act as secret keeper?”

“Course you daft wanker,” Sirius bristles. “I’d do anything for you lot.”

“I know,” James says unflinchingly. “You and Moony are the best friends a bloke can ask for.”

And God that hurts like nothing else, so Sirius doesn’t even try to retort in any meaningful sort of way. “Don’t forget Wormyy.”

James laughs. “Would never dare.”

And then silence drops over them like a heavy quilt threatening to smother them to death. And Sirius scrapes off the grime from the dishes and pretends that the plate isn’t still scratched and battered even once the debris is gone. And he swallows down the lump in his throat when he remembers that Remus is leaving again in a matter of hours.

Remus is still curved around Sirius like a blessing stroked to life with heavenly colors the morning after he gets back. Sirius wraps his arms around him, squeezes tightly and berries his head into his neck, wanting to feel him, to smell him all over. And as they lie down in that heap in the bed Sirius has always called theirs, but Remus has only ever referred to as Sirius’s, he sobs.

“Don’t go Remus, don’t leave me anymore. Just stay here, stay with me. I love you so much that I’m afraid I’ll crack with it and I know you don’t— that you can’t feel the exact same way— but please, just don’t leave us. Stay here, stay and love me too.”

Remus’s even breaths never falter, and he never flutters his eyes open, but Sirius has known him for nearly half his life, and he knows it like he knows his own name that Remus is awake and simply doesn’t answer him.

What Sirius doesn’t know is what that means.

They’re sitting on either end of the couch now.

Sirius is pretending to fill out a crossword but is actually trying to decode a letter they had been able to intercept between McNair and a lower ranking Death Eater about some assignation that was meant to be held in the wee hours of October seventh. But every few minutes his eyes wander to Remus, to how he’s curled up with a book of poetry in one hand and his blanket swathed around him. His fringe is hanging in limp curls and the circles beneath his eyes are only that much more prominent, that much more sickly. And his gaze is large and fragile in a way Sirius has never seen. And he wants to slide the novel out of Remus’s hands and he wants to kiss away his frown, and he wants to lock his fingers through the holes in his green sweater and he wants Remus in every way imaginable, to tell him I love you and I love you and I love you so much its like I’m dying. He wants to kiss the inside of his elbow and the knot of his ankle and beneath his naval too. He wants him and knows that he’ll never stop wanting him, and is sure that this— this love— will prove his Achilles’ Heal, and Remus is Patroclus destined to leave him first and Sirius is destined to wallow in ruin.

Sirius wants to beg him to stay here, to stay with him, to love him like he knows he does.

But Sirius simply does not— Does not tell him any of that.

They haven’t spoken to one another with words for days now, and it feels pathetic and hopeless— the way they only regard one another with stiff lips and cautious glances in the daylight, but that doesn’t stop them still clutching for one another once the sun dips into the horizon. Like if they can convince themselves that the sex is still miraculous that they still love each other too. As if their bodies aren’t just vessels, aren’t just sacks of skin and bone. And it feels like they’re both giving up on one another and holding on to each other with equal fervency. And Sirius doesn’t know anything any more.

It’s pathetic and it’s painful and it’s pointless. It’s so obviously over, it’s been over for nearly half a year, but they’ve always been cowards when it came to one another. And Sirius doesn’t think that will ever change.

So he only settles deeper into the couch, and he keeps the Shakespeare in Remus’s grasp, and he moves his free hand to deftly clutch around one of Remus’s cold feet, and he squeezes and Remus freezes, and they both breathe for the first time in far too long. But then Remus pulls away, and Sirius lets go before he can feel the sting of rejection and they go back to pretending to go on.

Remus is gone the next morning for a council with Dumbledore, so Sirius wanders the flat like a ghost with no direction, no idea what’s next.

He decides to tidy up the space, like it matters, like anything is normal. And when he reaches for the empty mug on Remus’s nightstand, he sees that his book of poetry is still open, and he lifts it to glance at the sonnet written their in black and white…

When my love swears that she is made of truth

I do believe her, though I know she lies,

That she might think me some untutor’d youth,

Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties.

And Sirius throws it hard against the wall before he can read another word.

Remus is preparing for another mission for reconnaissance, tells Sirius that night over their curry take away. And it feels like the world is dissolving right in front of Sirius’s eyes, like his lungs have forgotten how to breathe during those interludes where Remus leaves without a trace— only starting up again when he returns smelling of blood and fear and the outdoors. And Sirius hates everything so much— Is afraid that he hates Remus most of all some days, even if he’s the one person he can’t fathom existing without.

The sky breaks open that night and rain pellets down like the bullets from the Muggle films that Remus loved showing him, before the war, and before his disappearing act, and before it felt like a knife was plunged into Sirius’s chest every time he looked at him— and the only worst thing than this would be if he stopped seeing Remus all together, because he knows it like the innate way he knew how to move his lips against Remus’s on that feted day towards the start of seventh year— that the knife would simply be pulled out and he’d bleed to death bit by bit.

It hurts like nothing else loving him, but Sirius can’t fathom a world where he does not. Where he doesn’t get to trace the consolation of freckles dusting his high cheekbones, where he doesn’t get to kiss the singular mole at the nape of his neck that’s ordinarily covered up by his thick jumpers. A world where they don’t intwine in the ways that lovers are want to do.

Sirius loves Remus even if he knows it’s fruitless because there’s a war destroying the world and there’s a spy in the order and Remus is the only one who’s brilliant in a reserved way and cunning when he wants to be and the only one who knows how to properly keep a secret from his friends like it’s a second skin that he wears as effortlessly as a cloak.

And God.

Remus is sitting besides him now, a pinky’s breath away from his perch on the sofa.

There are words that writhe in Sirius’s throat, clacking against his teeth, begging to spill out. He wants to tell Remus he loves him, that he’d forgive him anything. He wants to tell him that Remus can Avada Kedavra him in the cold morning light and Sirius would still only see him bathed in an etherial glow, but can’t see him doing that to their dearest friends, to Harry who is sacred and should always be protected. He wants to beg him to just speak, to tell Sirius the truth, to tell Sirius he still loves him. Beg Remus to run away with him. To go off to Prague or Cordova or maybe even the states, to say sod it to the whole damn war and just spend their days and nights tangled up with naked limbs and sweaty sheets.

And he thinks he will, thinks that the burning sensation of want within him is too furious to tempt down anymore.

But then the dying sun shimmers through the window, unspools in Remus’s honey curls and twinkles in his butterscotch eyes that were once always dancing with a quiet humor that enthralled Sirius to him like a drifter to a prophet. And it’s not healthy, this vigil he’s always held for him— especially now, especially with his suspicions that James begrudgingly agrees with and Lily fumingly does not— but Sirius’s never been one for self preservation, has never known how to let a scab heal over naturally. He has to poke and prod until it scars, until it becomes a indelible part of him.

They stay there like that for either a minute or hour more, and when Sirius sees that Remus finally has enough of their staring match, he begins to move away, and it is Sirius— with a quick hand and desperate need— who presses him back down to the cushions with a hot mouth and wandering palms and he pretends that all he feels at the sound of the whimper Remus lets out is pleasure and not pain from his heart chipping that much more.

And this is vacant of words too. This is just instincts and moans and intuition of knowing another’s body and pleasure points and wants for half a decade now.

They make it to the bedroom and Sirius refuses to be gentle, refuses to deprive himself of anything, and Remus is matching him with every thrust.

When they kiss its wet, and Sirius knows its the tears leaking out their eyes, and he knows in that unspoken, understanding way that this is the final time. That when Remus leaves later tonight, he’ll stay gone, that he won’t ever sleep besides Sirius again, won’t ever hold him like this. Sirius will never get to see him in the splendid, golden hours of morning and never get to run away with him after all. So Sirius blunders Remus’s mouth with his hard tongue, and he relishes the way Remus bites on his bottom lip until he tastes blood. And he throws them onto the mattress and they wrestle together in the sheets, scratching and pulling and canting obscenely. And when Sirius kisses his protruding collar bone it’s I’m saying I love you, and when Remus sucks on the hinge of Sirius’s jaw it feels like an apology. And when Sirius squeezes the scar on his inner thigh where the very first bite mark lies mangled and knotted in his skin, he’s begging him one last time to stay, and when Remus tells him in a voice that’s tenuous and tender and filled with sorrow, “Fuck me” the syllables slot together in a different formation that sound like “I’m already gone.”

They’re having parallel conversations and they’re not speaking and it’s the end.

So Sirius bucks against him and Remus wraps his long, long legs around Sirius’s narrow waste, and Sirius codes his fingers with the lube they’ve always kept in his nightstand and is fast when he plunges them into that ring of tight, tight muscle, when he stretches and scissors and slicks him open, spurred on by Remus’s gargled words begging him. “Now Sirius, now, now. Do it now.”

So he doesn’t bother with any of the rest of it. He barely sheaths himself half way before he has to stop, has to catch his breath, to re acclimate himself to the pressure. But then he hears Remus whimper and he surges forwards and doesn’t let up this vicious rhythm that he hears pulsing in his fucking ears. And it’s graceless and it’s hard and it’s a bit rushed but it’s what they need. And when Remus tosses back his head— features twisted up with emotion— Sirius berries his face into his neck and he feels his tears intermingling with Remus’s own and Remus’s loud pleads for him to go rougher, to stay longer, to keep fucking into him. So Sirius listens because there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Remus— even now— and he focusses on his hand circling Remus’s length, on pumping it with a tight fist and a bit of a twist, the way Remus has always preferred it. And he hears Remus croaking out an “I’ve always loved you,” and even if those words are too late, too little, too hollow, they still work to bring him off the edge, and Sirius thrusts deeper only twice more before he’s releasing himself into him— into the love of his life— quickly followed by Remus’s own cock whimpering out it’s own climax. And it feels like the ending to the story Sirius never wanted to stop being told.

But before he can pull out his overstimulated prick from Remus’s arse, Remus just squeezes him with his legs, eyes fluttering shut while he rests his arms around Sirius’s broad shoulders. “Just stay.” he asks. “Stay until I have to go.”

And the sound of him— so desperate so pliant so tired— breaks the rest of his heart so much so that Sirius feels the remains splintering in his lungs and shattering open his ribcage with a sob he never lets out until Remus is gone.

“Anything you want Moony. Whatever you ask.”

And Remus’s lips twitch up into the best approximation of a smile that he’s given Sirius in far too long, and Sirius rests his head against Remus’s chest, and kisses the freckles that he was so elated to find their the first time they had done this. And he takes in deep the scent of cinnamon and citrus and sunlight that’s always clung to his skin, and he thinks that this is the first time they’re letting each other feel hopeless together.

The cold has turned over to a blizzard, and it seizes the flat once more the next morning.

Remus is gone and Sirius is left alone and nothing is right.

So he grabs the floo powder from the beautiful, ceramic container Hope had gifted Remus when he first moved into the flat the summer after their seventh year, and he finds James waiting for him on the other side, and he’s never taken in just how exhausted and terrified and sad his brother is looking these days.

“Wotcher, Pads.” James says, sipping on his tea with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and nothing is alright, nothing will probably ever be alright again.

“Hiya, Prongsie,” Sirius says, hearing just how threadbare his voice sounds in the quiet of the Potter cottage.

“So just a morning call? Or would you like me to fetch Haz for you?”

Sirius swallows the lump in his throat and forces himself to speak. “James I love you more than life, love Lily and the sprog just as much— But—“ he chokes up right then before ramming forwards. “I can’t— I can’t be the—“

“I know,” James interrupts, a thin, forgiving smile on his face. “Pete’ll have to do, but I’d still rather it you.”

“I’m so sorry James.”

“Me too.”

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #SIRIUSXREMUS #REMUSXSIRIUS #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #MARAUDERS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #THE HARRY POTTER SERIES #SPILT INK #DELETE LATER #TBH #LOL

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flawedamythyst · 2 years

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On the Twelfth Day of Christmas...

And so we’re at an end! Thanks to everyone who has been reading along! A reminder that these are all now on AO3: HERE if you missed any days.

2020

Joe hadn’t realised how many Christmas traditions they’d collected over the centuries until Nile starting asking them questions about each and every one.

“Isn’t Nicky cooking?”

“Not on Christmas Day,” said Joe, frowning at the pheasant in the oven and wondering how much longer it needed. After nearly 900 years of roasting various kinds of birds for Christmas, he really should be an expert by now, even if it was only once a year. Still, he hadn’t used the oven in their safe house in Antigua before and he didn’t know how much he should trust it.

“Huh,” said Nile and opened the fridge, staring at the contents. “Where is he, anyway?”

“Praying,” said Joe, deciding to give the pheasant a while longer before starting on the potatoes.

“Oh,” said Nile. Her hand went to fiddle with her cross necklace and she shut the fridge, turning away. “I guess that makes sense.”

“I like to take this day to thank God for all he has given me over the year,” said Nicky, and Joe spun around to see him in the doorway, looking relaxed and happy. “This year he has blessed me with a new sister, so there is a lot to be grateful for.”

Nile rolled her eyes at the same time as she turned away from him to hide her smile, and Joe felt his grin widen.

“Can I h-” Nicky started to say, but Joe knew what was coming and cut him off.

“Don’t even think about offering to help, unless you want me to chase you out of the room. And you know I will.”

Nicky held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Hey, Nile, did we ever tell you about the time that Joe chased Booker through Edinburgh over a joke, and Booker got so lost it took him three days to come back?”

“He deserved it,” muttered Joe.

“How do you get lost in Edinburgh?” asked Nile. “I didn’t think it was that big.”

“Apparently it is when you need to stop at every pub on the way home,” said Joe bitterly, and there was an awkward pause. Joe bit his tongue because he’d told himself that there wasn’t going to be any shadow cast over this Christmas by Booker’s absence.

“Oooh, pears!” said Nile, cutting through the moment. She reached out to take one. “Dinner’s going to be a while, right? I’ll just-”

“No!” said Joe, “put it back! I need all those.”

Nile gave him a wide-eyed look and dropped it back in the fruit bowl. “Um. Okay.”

“Joe makes poached pears every year,” said Nicky. “Well, every year recently, before they used to be soaked in honey. They’re very good.” He gave Joe the tiny half-smile of affection that always made Joe’s heart melt. “They were the first gift he ever gave me.”

“Pears were?” asked Nile, then shook her head. “Okay, well, I guess that’s romantic.”

Nicky reached out to take Joe’s hand. “The first gift he gave me, and he has repeated it every year he could ever since.”

“Well, they made you smile,” said Joe, clasping at his hand and letting the love swell in his heart. “You know I would do anything to see you smile.”

“Oh god,” muttered Nile, and left the kitchen. Joe didn’t glance away from Nicky’s face for a moment to watch her go.

****

Three days later, they were walking through the market near them. Nile was technically looking for clothes as she didn’t have any stored at the safehouse like the rest of them did, but her eye was being caught by anything shiny and Nicky and Joe were happily buying anything she wanted for her. It wasn’t as if they had anything else to be doing for a few weeks while Andy finished the physiotherapy Copley had arranged for her to do remotely.

That was the main reason they had all left the house for a few hours. Apparently having to do physiotherapy, and finding that her body had limits now, made Andy really irritable.

“Oh shit, look at this jewellery,” said Nile, pausing at another stall. “It’s beautiful!”

The woman behind the stall beamed at her, then her eyes darted between Nicky and Joe, clearly trying to work out which she should be working on to buy something shiny for Nile. “It’s all handmade,” she said, aiming it at them both in the end. “Finest quality! You won’t find any better souvenir of your visit to our island.”

“Oh!” said Nicky, and his hand darted out to pick something up. “Joe! Look! It’s like your very first one!”

It was a golden ring with a sunburst design on it, and it did look a lot like the one Nicky had given him on that slave ship, hundreds of years and half an ocean away.

“It’s lovely,” said Joe, holding his hand out to take it so he could look but, just like the first time, Nicky only took his hand and turned it, taking off the ring Joe was currently wearing so he could slide the new one on.

“It fits perfectly,” he said. “It’s meant to be.” He looked up at Joe, his face going more serious, and softly murmured, “Not even death will part us," in Greek, the first tongue they had spoken together.

"Not even death," agreed Joe, love fizzing up in his chest.

"Oh god," said Nile. "You're being all gooey again. Do I need to leave you to it?"

"It's our wedding anniversary," said Joe, not taking his eyes off Nicky's face. "We're allowed to be 'gooey'."

"Seriously?" asked Nile. "Today?"

The woman behind the stall cleared her throat in a pointed way and Nicky turned away from Joe, pulling his wallet out to pay her.

"Today," Joe said to Nile. "We were on a pirate ship, 448 years ago.”

In two years they would have to have a proper celebration for their 450th. He must remember to make plans for them to be in Malta or one of their other favourite places for it.

“Jesus,” said Nile, who still found the idea of that many years hard to get her head around. Joe could sympathise, he remembered when he was staring wide-eyed as Andy and Quynh talked about hundreds of years as if they were a drop in the ocean. “That’s, what, nearly to your fifth gold anniversary?”

“All our anniversaries are gold,” said Joe, reaching out to take Nicky’s hand as he finished paying and stepped away from the stall, “because my love has filled my life with sunshine and riches.”

Nile groaned as Nicky smiled at him, clinging to Joe’s hand. “I love you,” he said softly, using Greek again. Joe could only beam back.

****

“Joe!” called Nicky, bursting into the house. “Joe, guess what?”

Joe looked up from where he had been quietly sketching the view from their bedroom in Malta from memory.

"I found goose eggs!" said Nicky, face lit up with joy.

Joe groaned, tipping his head back against the sofa. "Why must you torment me so?"

"Don't you like them?" asked Nile, looking over at them.

Andy started to cackle. "Yeah, Joe, don't you like geese?"

Nicky's smile had turned to amusement now, and Joe knew there was no way of avoiding this. "I hate you all," he said, covering his face with his hands.

"You see, Nile," said Andy, "Joe once had a very nasty encounter with a goose. Well, several geese."

"It was Nicky's fault!" Joe insisted from behind his hands.

"I don't see how that can be true," said Nicky, putting his bag down on the table and coming over to sit next to Joe, pressing a kiss to his forehead, which was the only part of his face not covered by his hands. "They didn't attack me, after all."

"Come collect goose eggs with me, Joe," muttered Joe into his hands, in his best impersonation of Nicky’s faint Genoan accent. “It'll be romantic, Joe."

"So, uh...how badly can a goose hurt someone?"

Andy was still sniggering. "Put it this way, kid, if he hadn’t had our healing he'd have ended up with a wooden leg."

"It was a very angry goose," said Nicky solemnly. Joe just groaned and let his hands drop from his face.

"Damn," said Nile, looking at Joe's leg as if expecting to see some sign of those long ago injuries. "I guess poultry aren't to be meddled with."

"Not geese, anyway," said Nicky.

"Or swans," added Andy. "I got killed by a swan once."

Joe, Nicky and Nile all swivelled their heads to stare at her.

"Why haven't we ever heard this story before?" asked Joe, sitting up straight.

Andy just grinned at them all. "Who said you're hearing it now?" she asked, and got up and walked out of the room.

****

The next night was New Year’s Eve. Nicky made a range of canapes for them to nibble on, Andy provided a host of booze, and Nile told them all firmly that she had the music covered.

“Listen to this,” she said, putting on a CD. “I found it in the market, isn’t it fantastic? Top ten hits of the noughties, played on steel drums! What could be more perfect for a Caribbean New Year party?”

The metallic sound of steel drums started playing a tune that it took Joe a few seconds to recognise as Crazy in Love. He met Nicky's eyes, saw the same pained resignation in them, and then looked back at Nile's excited face.

"Perfect," he said, and wondered how long it would take to engineer some terrible accident happening to the CD.

From the look in Andy’s eye, it wouldn’t be long at all.

“It can be a new tradition for us,” said Nile. “Like the pears and mocking Joe for the goose thing, we can try and find some kinda steel drum music for every New Year’s Eve, to remember this first New Year I’m with y’all.”

And just like that, Joe knew that the CD would be lasting for as long as they could keep it preserved.

“That sounds lovely, Nile,” said Nicky, smiling at her, and then reaching a hand out. “Will you dance with me, then, so we can start a tradition of that as well?”

“I would love to,” said Nile, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the centre of the room. “I guess if anyone is crazy in love, it’s you and Joe.”

Nicky laughed, glancing over at Joe as he started dancing and Joe tipped a wink back at him, settling down to watch.

“You know,” he said casually, “if it feels like we’re getting too many festive traditions, we could always retire the goose thing and replace it with steel drums.”

“Not happening,” said Andy. “Nile, you hear me? I need you to carry on making sure to mention it every year long after I’m gone. That’s what I want my legacy to be, a thousand years of Joe being reminded of how a goose once bested him.”

Joe felt a stab of ice-cold pain at the reminder that Andy wasn’t going to be around to continue these traditions with them into the future, but he suppressed it. Tonight wasn’t the night to be sad about things he couldn’t change.

“I’m on it!” said Nile, clicking her fingers to point at Andy. Joe just sighed.

****

They were relaxing in the sitting room after dinner, all of them except Nicky, who had cooked, silently waiting for one of the others to break first and go do the washing up. Joe was not hopeful that it would be Andy.

“Nile, there’s a church near here who are having an Epiphany service tomorrow. Do you want to come with me?” asked Nicky.

Nile touched the cross at her throat. “Epiphany already,” she said, and shook her head. “Time sure does go fast, huh?”

“You have no idea,” muttered Andy, quietly enough to be ignored.

“Yeah,” said Nile, smiling at Nicky. “I’d love to.”

Nicky smiled back, and Joe felt a wave of warmth wash through him to see how happy he was to have someone to share his faith with.

Maybe the next one will be Muslim, he thought to himself, and then wondered how long they’d be waiting for them. Hundreds of years at the very least.

Nile and Nicky set off early the next morning for the church, leaving Andy to glare down her physiotherapist over Zoom and Joe to find an excuse to keep out of her way. He ended up going out to the market and came home with a CD of steel drum ‘90s songs despite his better judgement. He could already see Nile’s excited smile when he gave it to her.

“Are we having cake today?” asked Andy at lunch, after Nicky and Nile had come back from church.

“Oh, is that the Epiphany tradition?” asked Nile. “Cake?”

“No, I just want cake,” said Andy. “It’s been a long fucking week.”

“We don’t really have an Epiphany tradition,” said Nicky, looking at Joe, who shrugged back. Epiphany wasn’t really one of the religious festivals Nicky mentioned much. “I’m happy to make it cake, though.”

“Awesome,” said Andy, with satisfaction. “Something with honey and nuts.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” said Joe, already thinking about where the nearest bakeries were. One of them was bound to have something that would fit that description, right?

“Maybe the tradition is church and cake?” asked Nile, and Nicky grinned at her.

“Yes, perfect.”

Nicky and Joe went out to find cake together, walking close enough for their shoulders to bump together, as they always did when they weren’t too sure about holding hands in public.

“Do you think we have too many traditions?” asked Joe, thinking about all the little things they’d done over the last couple of weeks.

“No,” said Nicky immediately. “I think we have the perfect amount, and I love them all,” he gave Joe a warm smile, nudging the back of his hand with his fingers. “Because they’re ours. Every one has a story behind it, a memory of a moment when I knew how lucky I was to have you, and reminds me all over again that you are the best thing that could have happened to me.”

“Nicky,” said Joe softly, overwhelmed, then cleared his throat and managed a rueful smile. “Even the memory of me nearly losing a leg to that damn goose?”

Nicky laughed. “You mean, when you came to help me with a chore you clearly wanted nothing to do with, just because I asked? Oh yes, even that one.”

Joe bumped their shoulders together. “When you put it like that,” he said, then wrinkled his nose. “No, sorry, even like that it is not a good memory for me. That goose was vicious, Nicky. It had a taste for human blood.”

Nicky laughed at him again and Joe thought about that first Christmas, nearly a thousand years ago, when he had thought coaxing a tiny smile out of him was an achievement. How on earth had he been so lucky to spend so many years beside this man?

“Oh look, that shop sells movies,” said Nicky, gesturing across the road. “Do you think they will have The Lion In Winter? We haven’t seen that in a few years.”

“Andy would enjoy telling Nile everything that’s wrong with it,” agreed Joe, and changed course to head into the shop with Nicky.

As long as Nicky was beside him, he’d happily go anywhere.

#the old guard #My fic #Immortal husbands #nicky/joe #twelve days of togmas

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zalrb · 3 years

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tv rewatch: gg edition, ep. 10

“Hey, so has Blair mentioned who’s escorting her?” Nate, you cannot be serious.

“Every time I see her, she’s lighter, she’s happier, she’s less ... ... Blair.” Nate, sit down.

“With my dad in rehab, the pressure is off and I can see Blair clearly” but the pressure wasn’t on for your entire relationship, Nate. Shut up.

“Jenny, what are you even doing here?” Serena, that sounds way more hostile than you intended.

“Oh, hello, mother.” LOL Lily. She is SO unsung.

“Isn’t she’s great?” “She’s ... she’s great, she’s something.” LOL READ BODY LANGUAGE, SERENA.

This Chair makeout is one of my favourites just because in the bloopers, they kept going and going until someone was finally like, “You take your own cue!” and Leighton was like OH!

“And the prince, you know, he’s a great dancer and all.” Lmao, Nate, shut up.

Cece’s manipulation is kind of low stakes tbh, like she uses her illness just to get Serena to do cotillion?

Blair in jeans!

Blair texting Chuck while with Nate is pretty cute. Ah, I always get in my Chair feels in the first two seasons.

“Allison, I didn’t expect to see you ... here.” LILY’S SHADE.

Dan in his striped shirt.

His hair is steadily becoming less offensive.

LOL Sebastian Stan in this is always funny now.

“Where were you?” “Where wasn’t he? Gossip Girl even had a designated Carter map on Spotted.” Shouldn’t you know this, Dan, since, you know, you’re gossip girl?

“I also went pheasant hunting with the sheik while I was there.” I thought you disowned your parents and didn’t have their money?

Jenny’s dress is awful.

“Then you are grounded for a week” “WHAT???” Lol OK, Jenny.

I know I keep saying it but kdramas do class divides so much better. Cece’s speech is too pointed.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on, I just became your escort to the ball.” Lmao I feel like Dan and Lily are the same person.

“I would just like to say how proud I am of Miss Waldorf and her commitment to Mr. Archibald EVEN THOUGH HE RUINED HER 17TH BIRTHDAY...” this is the most teen thing Chuck has ever done.

I LOVE HOW OLD THE PHONES ARE and they were hot shit back then.

Serena does not look incredible, Dan.

“Serena, that’s what I’m trying to tell you, that woman is the most manipulative person I’ve ever met.” Except for me BECAUSE I’M GOSSIP GIRL.

OK but honestly, what Cece is doing is bullying not manipulation, it’s too direct for it to be manipulation. Telling Lily about that she’s sick so Serena can go to cotillion is manipulative, yes, but the rest of it is just straight up intimidation tactics, she’s using her money as a weapon. They could’ve also gone further with the Lily thing by telling Lily that this is what she wants but she doesn’t want Serena to know that she’s sick so Lily puts her foot down about cotillion and says she has to go or else, thereby making Lily the villain while she remains the cool, free-spirited grandmother because when that DOES happen, it’s too late. It should be an ongoing thing.

“She makes your mother look like Gandhi.” “That’s my grandmother you’re talking about.” LMAO LILY GETS NO LOVE.

“Let’s get Carter on the phone.”

This scene could’ve been better. Dan’s delivery of this revelation was pretty bad because his sarcasm took precedence that he didn’t try to speak to Serena delicately and Serena wasn’t asking the right questions. Dan is like “she offered to buy my dad off so I wouldn’t come tonight” and she’s just like “Nope.” Dan could be like, why would I lie? and Serena could talk about how there could be a mistake, she could call out Dan’s tone and then he leaves and when Cece comes instead of her automatically being like, k time for Carter, she could milk the grandmother routine and say how she’d never do such a thing, she doesn’t understand why he’d lie about this etc. Like manipulation takes a lot more subtlety than what’s going on. This is all way too direct.

Lmao Nate is so unbearable this episode.

“Make it stop, you sound like me.” LMAO, BLAIR.

Chuck is more manipulative than Cece.

Cece does look like she’s about to go catatonic after that “beds as many billionaires as she can” line though. Well done.

How did TVD do a better ball scene than GG?

I also prefer The O.C.’s cotillion. Lmao because it actually tried to look like a legit cotillion.

But The Pierces in the background is pretty atmospheric even though it’s also absolutely ridiculous that they’re performing at a debutante ball.

“SHE’S MY GIRLFRIEND.” oh, nate.

“And you said if I did this I could be myself but you don’t really want that do you?” “That’s not entirely true.” I DIED. LILY.

“All you care about when people look at me is what they think of you” but the thing is I need to see this? Like I need to see Lily being directly affected by Serena’s choices, see how society looks at her and their family for this to be more than dialogue.

I totally forgot that Serena had already slept with Carter.

“When I was your age, I would’ve been lucky to find a guy like you. And I kind of did.” That’s his father, Lily.

Also really, what was Rufus like in the past then? Like what kind of rockstar was he?

Oh Chuck, just can’t win.

Serena turning around to see Dan at cotillion is pretty sweet, ngl.

The problem with this cotillion plot line is that it’s too small. Like if this is about legacy and if this is actually about introducing Serena to society then we need to see what cotillion actually means in this world, we need to see how big of a deal it is, one reporter showing up to interview Blair doesn’t mean anything. We need to see Lily’s and Cece’s peers gossip and talk. Also if this is all about how Cece’s values are old-fashioned then either cotillion needs to be the traditional white dress, white gloves ball

or it’s what we see and Cece complains about how modern/contemporary it’s getting.

Chuck is so Chuck. “Hey! Have you seen Blair Waldorf?” reminds me of when I went up to an acquaintance and I didn’t say hi I just asked where my friend was, I was like “Where’s Scott?” and from then on he - the acquaintance - just called me “Where’s Scott?”

Chuck looks genuinely heartbroken at seeing Blair and Nate. *sigh* too bad they get absolutely terrible.

Nate’s grin is so cringe, lol.

Rufly angst! “I never should’ve let you let me go.” DE could never.

APOLOGIZE, YASSSSSSSSSSSSS. SONG IS STILL A BOP DON’T @ ME.

I’m holding on your rope got me ten feet off the grouuuuuuuuuuuuund.

I know this is a Derena moment but what makes it for me is Serena looking at Lily to see if she can go with him and Lily saying yes. It’s a Serena/Lily moment for me.

Oh Blair, Nate doesn’t deserve sex with you.

Chuck, leaving the city, you are so DRAMATIC.

xoxo, zalrb.

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seasonsofeverlark · 3 years

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Harvest Festival

Author: @eiramrelyat

Prompt: Panem. No games AU, where Peeta asks Katniss to be his date for the Harvest festival, and Katniss goes to her best friend Gale for advice. She also hints to him that a certain someone he has his eyes on may also reciprocate his feelings and encourages him to ask her out [submitted by @everlurked]

Rating: T

Author’s Notes: Thank you @mandelion82 for editing this story for me. I hope you all enjoy!

_________

Today, Peeta Mellark asked her to be his date for the upcoming Harvest festival. It was a dance (or a feast, with dancing, some might say) that was held in the merchant’s square. Buildings were decorated with multicolored ears of corn, and banners swung from light poles. It was an event only merchants ever attended.

She was dropping off a trade for Thoball, Peeta’s dad, at the bakery. But when she rapped against the back door, Thoball wasn’t the one who answered. It was Peeta.

He was covered in flour, his curls falling softly against his forehead.

Out of surprise at seeing him, she almost tripped on the step leading into the kitchen. But Peeta caught her elbow in time before she could fall face-first into his chest. “Katniss, are you alright?” he asked, giving her a concerned expression.

Her mouth opened and closed, nothing coming out. She couldn’t remember the last time⎯if ever⎯she’d had a conversation with Peeta… She never even stopped to thank him for what he did for her and Prim all those years ago. “Oh, sorry,” she finally said, maybe a little too loudly for the tiny gap between them. “I wasn’t looking where I was going… But I’m fine,” she added hastily at the end, feeling embarrassed over her sudden clumsiness.

“Okay.” When he realized he was still holding her elbow, he quickly dropped his hand and gestured toward her game bag. “Are you here to trade?”

Katniss nodded, still flustered, and reached into her bag for the pheasants she shot down that morning. Peeta already had two loaves of bread set aside and handed them to her as she presented him with the two limp birds.

“Thank you,” she said, tucking the loaves under her arm. Peeta nodded, and his mouth twitched as if to say something, but he gave her a tiny, uncertain smile instead. “Well, uh, I should probably get going before it gets dark out. Tell Thoball I said thank you for the bread.”

Then she turned and walked back down the steps.

“No, wait, Katniss,” Peeta called after her, pulling her up short. She glanced back at him. “Do you, uh, if you don’t have a date… would you like to go to the Harvest Festival with me?”

She froze, blinking at him, her heart fluttering wildly. “What?”

A red hue scattered up his neck. “Would you go to the Harvest Festival with me?”

“I, um…” In a panic, she ran, leaving him without an answer at his back door. She was so eager to get away from the bakery that she bumped into Thoball around the front of the building. He seemed to be in a heated argument with his eldest son, Graham⎯ their voices hushed and sharp.

“Oops! Sorry, Mister Mellark!”

He looked down at her, his demeanor changing from agitated to friendly. “Hello, Katniss. Was Peeta able to help you today?”

“Yes, sir,” she told him, then cleared her throat. “Uh, thank you for the bread, but I need to finish my rounds.”

He gave her a kind smile. “Of course. Have a nice day, Katniss.”

~~~~~

Katniss mopily finished her rounds, wondering if she should have told him yes. Although, she knew Peeta deserved someone better⎯someone who didn’t ignore him when he tried to show them kindness. She hoped he didn’t think her ungrateful. Though that was the difference between them, he was good, and she…wasn’t.

Katniss tossed her game bag over her shoulder and kicked at a pebble with the toe of her boot.

Not to mention, Katniss didn’t know one thing about dressing up, except those times for the Reaping. Nerves had wracked her then. Not that she didn’t have them now, because she definitely felt acid butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. But that didn’t count since, at the time, she felt like she was being dressed as a pig for slaughter.

Lastly, she didn’t have anything to wear, aside from said Reaping dress that was starting to become snug around her chest and arms. All she owned were scuffed pants, old boots, and her dad’s hunting jacket‒none of which sounded like a proper Harvest Festival outfit.

Would Peeta expect her to dress like the merchant girls from school? Hair styled and shiny with ribbons? A pastel cotton dress that fell below her knees?

Yet, she was nothing like the merchant girls. She was Seam. Her hair and nails were often dirty⎯mostly from hunting. She didn’t own nice enough material to pass as a ribbon, nor did she own a dress that didn’t have patches sewn into the skirt.

Peeta, a merchant’s son, wouldn’t want that, would he?

The longer she thought about it, the more she started to believe that it was some sick joke. Maybe the golden boy wasn’t as nice as he so claimed to be…

“Katniss!”

She looked over to find Madge skipping up to her, blonde curls bouncing behind her. “Oh, hey, Madge,” she said, still walking.

Madge fell in step with her. “Um, I hate to ask, but are you going to see Gale?” she asked, blushing.

“Yeah, after rounds.”

“Well, um, do you think you could give this to him? I didn’t see him in town today.” Madge reached into a pocket in her dress and pulled out a small square box (blue tissue paper decorating the outside), then she held it out to her.

“Sure.” Katniss grabbed the box, placing it in her jacket.

Madge smiled. “Thank you, Katniss!” Then, she walked into the Cartwright’s shoe store.

~~~~~

She met Gale in the meadow, finding him lying in a section of tall grass. Like the hunter he was, he turned at the sound of her boots stepping in a pile of mud.

“Hey, Catnip.”

Katniss unceremoniously plopped down onto the grass next to him. “I have a special package for you from Madge.” She tossed the tiny parcel onto his lap, and he looked at it before shoving it in his pocket.

“Thanks.”

“What is it?” Katniss asked curiously.

His eyes widened. “Oh, uh…” She’d never seen his olive skin so pink. “It’s something we- she started a few weeks ago. It’s nothing really.” She hummed a noncommittal sound, deciding to leave it be for now.

They lapsed into silence, staring off at the clouds and the trees at the edge of the meadow. Normally, she’d find this peaceful, but her mind was still going a mile a minute. And she couldn’t stay still either, her fingers tearing up grass near the heel of her boot. She was too busy attempting to pick apart Peeta’s question from earlier to enjoy how quiet the birds were today.

“You’re scaring all of the wildlife away,” Gale said beside her.

Her fingers stopped. “Sorry, I just…I have a lot on my mind.”

He glanced over at her. “Want to talk about it?”

She was quiet for a moment, lips pursed in hesitation until she spoke up again. “How do you thank someone for a debt you can never repay?”

“Easy, you simply thank them.”

Katniss rolled her eyes, tossing the pile of shredded grass at him. “Very funny.”

Gale laughed before nudging her shoulder with his. “Are you talking about bread boy?”

Her mouth fell open. “How-?”

“He came up to me the other day while I was trading in The Hob, and asked if you and I were dating.” Katniss’s nose scrunched at the thought. “Wow, thanks,” he scoffed. “Listen, I think you’re overthinking this. And it’s clear that Peeta doesn’t hold any grudges against you, or else he wouldn’t have asked about you.”

She considered this, remorse and shame festering inside her. And the fact that Peeta didn’t hold a grudge, only made her feel worse.

Why did he have to be so good?

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

Gale shrugged. “Glad I could help.”

The next morning, set on making things right, she walked as quickly as she could from the Seam to the Mellark’s bakery. Unfortunately, her heavy game bag bumping against her leg hindered her from walking any faster. She knocked on the back door. Once. Twice. And as she started to knock again, the door finally opened to reveal Peeta on the other side. He scratched the back of his head when he noticed it was her at the door, his cheeks turning a ruddy color. “Uh, hey, Katniss. Are you here to trade?”

“Yes- wait no… I mean yes I need to trade, but that’s not why I’m actually here.” He frowned, she probably looked like a bushy-tailed lunatic. She sighed, dropped her game bag on the step, and tried to gather her bearings. “Peeta I want to go to the Harvest Festival with you.”

He flushed slightly then cleared his throat. “About that, I wanted to apologize-”

She crossed her arms over her chest, determined to make him understand. “No, I want to.”

“You don’t have to ask me to make me feel better,” he said wryly.

Katniss scowled. “I’m not asking you out of pity, Peeta.”

Peeta sighed, running a hand through his mess of curls. “Katniss-” he started again, ready to argue with her on the matter.

With her heart fluttering in her chest, she silenced him by leaning up to press her lips against his. They were soft and smooth, still at first, then bumped against hers clumsily. It was slow, uncertain, and he faintly tasted like spice and mint. Peeta sighed into her mouth, the sound stirring something foreign low in her gut… However, the caress was short, as it seemed to have served its purpose. But part of her wasn’t ready for it to end, and she was almost curious about what other sounds he would make if they continued.

As she pulled away, she realized that she just had her first kiss with Peeta Mellark, and silently hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

They stared at each other, breaths mingling, then she repeated herself slowly, “I want to go to the Harvest Festival with you.”

Peeta’s mouth lifted upward. “Okay,” he said softly.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #eiramrelyat #submission #prompt

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blue-and-dog · 3 years

Text

The Beast in the Mountains (A Sengoku Basara One-Shot)

Note: This story is centered around my fanon that, post-Sekigahara, Mitsunari and his family fled into the mountains to live in hiding for several years before his death. A wife is mentioned, but for the sake of this story I keep her ambiguous so you readers who have an OC shipped with him can just slap her in there. :D Shiranui’s profile is here.

TW: BLOOD, ANIMAL ATTACK

[[MORE]]

“That’s a good size fire; try and keep it like that for now.”

The group of men sat around the small fire; four dirty, tired, ragged men on the run from proper society, obscured by the darkness of the mountain’s dense forest, barely illuminated by the small fire. Sadanobu continued.

“Any brighter and we risk attracting animals. I’m already worried about smoke flowin’ through the treetops.”

“With how thick these trees are?” Gaku chuckled, “I’m surprised the moonlight even gets through here. We’ll be fine. We just gotta make sure to put it out before we call it a night.”

“You sure no one’ll find us up here?” Naofumi asked, as usual fidgeting with his hands out of anxiety.

“Relax, I did some scoping out of the town not far from these mountains,” Matazaemon shook his head, “They’re superstitious folk. Somethin’ about an old legend saying there’s a guardian spirit that lives on this mountain. People who go too high up the mountain end up in its territory and meet a horrible fate or some shit like that. That’s why I wanted to set up the camp so high up.”

“Besides, we’re not staying long...” Sadanobu pulled out the thick sack from behind him, “We gotta get to my guy in Kyoto and pawn all this off.”

Another successful heist for the unlikely group of criminals; two army deserters, a farmer and a gambler, able to pool their strengths and successfully rob their way across the East. Traveling nobles, temples, inns—nothing was safe. The country was a mess—they were just taking the opportunity to help themselves.

“That last temple was hidin’ some good loot!” Gaku said excitedly, “I still can’t believe how lucky we got! Lemme see again!”

Sadanobu rolled his eyes, but smiled and passed the bag to Gaku, who excitedly opened it, tilting it toward the light of the fire to see the inside; the head of the gold Buddha glittered back at him. “We got enough goodies in here to eat like kings for weeks!”

“Man, I haven’t eaten a decent meal since the Toyotomi...” Sadanobu sighed and leaned back. “It’ll be nice...”

“Hey, yeah, you were a Toyotomi guy!” Matazaemon laughed, “I was Oda! I know your pain.”

“You’re kidding! You don’t strike me as an Oda guy.”

“And you don’t strike me as a Toyotomi!” he cackled back, as the two howled in laugher. Gaku and Naofumi chuckled along.

“You know, you two never talked about your army days,” Naofumi pointed out, “We got time—why not start now?”

“It’s really nothin’ much,” Matazaemon shook his head, digging through another bag to grab a rice ball and start distributing them amongst the group, “I joined up so my old man didn’t have to, wound up havin’ to do a lot of killing and burning and pillaging that I really never wanted to do. Watched all the major generals shining above everyone else, while the foot soldiers were trampled beneath them. Date, Takeda, Uesugi...they were the kind of guys that really made war seem like a fun time.”

“I know what you mean,” Gaku replied, “They made it look like something we should aspire to. I almost joined up with Date myself, but...when folks from the Date came around enlisting able-bodied men, I took off so my mom wouldn’t have to see her only son die for the sake of some egotist who just wanted more land for himself. I wonder how she’s doing...?”

“That’s the thing about these generals and daimyo,” Naofumi shrugged, “They shine brighter by standing on the backs of their soldiers.”

“Oda was a complete monster, though,” Matazaemon grumbled. “All of his inner circle were. Moment I got news Akechi killed him, I took the opportunity to turn tail while everyone was scrambling around. Never looked back.”

“Similar to my story,” Sadanobu nodded, “Hideyoshi was a creep...even standing near him put me on edge. And his supporters weren’t any better.” He leaned forward, looking down into the fire. “I remember one day, when I was training...apparently his general, Ishida, didn’t think I was making enough progress. By some mercy, he kept his sword sheathed, but he beat me with the sheathed weapon in some twisted attempt to strengthen me. All it did was strengthen my resolve to get the hell out of there soon as I could. Glad he’s dead.”

“Is he, though?” Naofumi raised an eyebrow. “I thought it wasn’t confirmed.”

“He and his family were in Osaka castle when some folks raided it after he lost Sekigahara. The whole place went up in flames; there’s no way an impulsive guy like that had any escape plan to get out of there undetected. There were so many burnt corpses in the castle afterward once the fire was under control; he had to be among them. He wouldn’t have run. He never ran.”

Naofumi closed his eyes in thought. “Maybe. There’s always a chance.”

“Don’t even start. I don’t wanna think about the possibility that that asshole’s still out there somewhere. And even if he is...he’d never willingly show his face again.”

The wind seemed to whisper above them. And a rumbling came from the woods around them.

“What was that?” Naofumi looked up, now apprehensive.

“Probably just an animal attracted to the light,” Gaku reached toward the fire, grabbing a burning hunk of wood from it as he stood up. “Wave this around a little bit and they’ll be gone. I’ll do it.”

Gaku turned from the group, heading through the brush, waving the burning wood around to light his path. Big, dramatic steps and stomps to intimidate whatever was near, his companions watching from afar.

Then, his head perked up, as if he spotted something. But before he could speak a word, he let out a choked-off cry, the flame dropping and going out.

“Gaku!” Matazaemon cried out as the group stood up, on high alert. Then, the loud thumps of quick but heavy footsteps, and a vicious bark and snarl, as a large, white blur lunged forward, biting Matazaemon by the arm; the force knocked him to the ground as he felt the arm pop out of place. He howled a mix of pain and fear.

Naofumi stared in shock and horror at the large wolf now viciously yanking Matazaemon to and fro like a rag doll, blood soaking its teeth and maw. But Matazaemon’s screams finally snapped him to attention as he pulled out his knife, plunging it toward the beast’s side in a panic.

He missed the stab, but the blade did slice the wolf’s side, as it let go of his friend and instantly turned on him; its jaw snapped open, going for his throat, and as he fell back, he looked to Sadanobu for help.

But Sadanobu had fled. Even as the wolf snarled and tore into him, Naofumi could hear footsteps approaching, and hear something slice into Matazaemon, silencing his howls of agony.

Sadanobu blindly pushed his way through the brush, his face a mix of fear, of terror, of snot and spit, while he tried to process that he was alone now, on this mountain, at night.

The Beast of the Mountain was real! That was no ordinary wolf! That thing...that thing was a monster! So fast, so strong! He had to leave its territory.

He had to get down the mountain.

He tripped in his panic, falling and rolling a ways, before finally sliding to a stop, staring up at the break in the treetops to see the moon. He began to sit up, but froze.

Footsteps. Two feet.

He began to hyperventilate, wondering if the beast had changed form, to come after *him.*

But the moon began to make his pursuer visible. And he could see those thin, angry eyes glaring down at him.

Those thin, angry eyes from all those years ago.

And he began to wail.

“IT’S YOU—“  SPLURCH!

That one slice caused his insides to burst out of him, as he fell back, gurgling his final sounds, the world around him becoming black.

....

And Ishida Mitsunari flicked the blood off his old sword before sheathing it again. His intuition had been correct; the noise and dim light he saw from his home wasn’t just his imagination playing tricks on him; someone had the audacity, once again, to venture that high up the mountain. And they needed to be dealt with swiftly, before he risked them finding him.

Grabbing the body by the leg, he began to drag it back with him toward the campfire. As he did, he whistled a short whistle, as the snarls and barks from before were replaced by panting; he found the wolfdog standing by the other two bodies, his curled tail twitching in satisfaction. Dropping the first body’s leg, Mitsunari knelt down.

“Come here. Let me see.”

The dog padded forward, allowing Mitsunari to get a closer look. Removing his right glove (revealing a hand scarred from burns), he ran a hand along the wound in the dog’s side; the dog let out a small whimper, but didn’t panic.

“...it’ll scar, but it’s nothing serious,” he muttered, “We’ll treat it when we get back home. Good work, Shiranui.”

His children had named the dog when he brought the pup back to their home two years prior, having found the pup attempting to steal one of the pheasants he had hunted. Now fully grown, it was clear the dog took mostly wolf traits...but, at his core, Shiranui had always been a loyal dog...especially to his master.

Once certain the wound wasn’t serious, Mitsunari turned his attention to the bodies. Retrieving the last one from a ways away, he wasted no time rifling through their pockets and satchels for supplies. Medicine, food, tools...anything usable, he gathered into the largest bag. As he came across the sack containing their ill-gotten gains, he pondered the contents for a bit...before shaking his head. He had no need for any of this. Gold and the like wouldn’t keep them alive. Wouldn’t keep them safe.

One by one, he dragged each body a ways up to the cliffs, before rolling each body over the edge with one smooth motion, watching them get swallowed by the darkness below as he listened to the impact of them striking the cliff side, the stones, the tree branches....and lastly, he tossed the sack of treasures, too. Good fortune to whomever finds them, he supposed. It didn’t matter to him either way. Either way, the Beast of the Mountain had maintained its status as something to be feared.

Returning to the camp and snuffing out the fire, he let his eyes readjust to the darkness, before looking to Shiranui’s bloodied face.

“Let’s wash your face before we go back.” His wife hated when the dog came back from its hunts and meals looking like that.

After stopping by the stream to clean off the dog’s face and wash the wound a bit, they began their quiet trek back home, their loot in hand. Nearly three years of this life...and sometimes, it was still wildly unfamiliar to him.

He should have died at Sekigahara. He should have taken his life when he failed to avenge his lord.

He should have.

But he didn’t.

Now he was a spent match; the fire of battle had long left him, and now he was smoke, drifting about his new life, though sometimes, that little fire would come back. Sometimes, he would remember why he lived.

Off the beaten path, past the troublesome terrain, there stood a small house. His house. It was no Sawayama, it was no Osaka Castle, but it was home. And it was here that he quietly slid open the door, only to flinch slightly, startled by the shape of his wife’s feet in the moonlight shining through the door. In her arms, the smallest of his children, his only daughter, little Tatsuhime, fast asleep and undisturbed.

“...how close were they?” his wife asked in the softest of voices.

“Close enough to be a problem,” he replied. She could tell he was willfully omitting details. Details that would distress or upset her. He clearly didn’t want to elaborate further. Other than, “Shiranui’s hurt. I’ll stay with him tonight.”

She gave a quiet nod, quietly vanishing into the tiny hallway, as she, too, was swallowed by darkness.

Mitsunari retrieved a cloth, taking a seat against the wall and beckoning the dog over; Shiranui obeyed, laying down as Mitsunari pressed the cloth against the wound. The dog rested his head on his master’s lap, while Mitsunari rested his own head against the wall.

He could faintly hear the rustling of his wife setting Tatsuhime down to sleep; undoubtedly between her two older brothers. His wife was then rustling into bed as well.  He didn’t know when he’d sleep.

But until then, he’d remember why he lived.

#sengoku basara #ishida mitsunari #Mitsunari Ishida #fanfic #basara #Sb fanfic #blue writes #fan fiction #fanfiction #capcom

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the-last-teabender · 3 years

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FANFIC: Oxventure - Duel Destinies

RATING: G

WORDS: Just under 7k

SUMMARY: Corazón gets hit on the head.

A/N: This isn’t my first time writing fanfic, but it’s my first time in literal decades writing something that a) isn’t going into a charity anthology and b) isn’t single-sentence goofs in my Gchat window with @randomthunk. So I actually am a little nervous to just yeet my work out into the world without an editor/publisher frontline protecting me from looking foolish. I do have plans to fic more tho.

I approached this as though I was writing an official tie-in because that’s my comfort zone (and occasionally my job). Which was a little challenging because there’s a lot that’s not part of the story but is part of the viewing experience. I have not mastered it in one story but the attempt was fun. Also I haven’t smashed alt-codes this obsessively while writing since I wrote about Señor 105.

Thanks aforementioned Ginger for being my beta reader and basically sitting on me to post this instead of hide it in my writing folder.

Anyway, if you like what I’m throwing out here, I have actually a lot of stuff in print and even more coming.

----------

“Right,” Dob said, pacing the length of the deck, “before we go, let’s review. Prudence, what happened yesterday?”

“We found a bad man killing off local slimes to make slime booze.”

“Good. Corazón, what happened yesterday?”

“I began my awesome new career as a detective and threw someone out a window.”

“All right. Merilwen?”

“Mow.”

“Excellent. Egbert?”

“I set a tavern on fire and got my seal very drunk on slime gin.”

“All right, that’s us caught up.”

That wasn’t the entire catch-up, but all of them knew the events of the day before well enough. The forest outside the town of Esterwell was in turmoil, according to the wizard Binbag after he tumbled unexpectedly out of a pantry. It was suddenly bereft of slimes — the cute little blobby creatures generally used for target practice by up-and-coming adventurers. As it happened, slimes had other uses. Serving as the base for a delightful high-end alcoholic brew, for one. Serving as the base of the entire local food chain, for another. If the slime population continued to plummet, eventually the other animal populations would follow suit.

An investigation of the local slime hunters (led by DCI Jeff Crimestopper, a pseudonym Corazón was becoming increasingly attached to) turned up that they were all in the employ of the same man: one Alonzo Horgan, owner of the Horgan Distillery. One especially talkative young hunter revealed that Horgan intended to “wring all the slimes out of Esterwell Forest” before upping sticks to his next hunting ground.

The goal was, in short, to stop Horgan’s machinations before he destabilized the entire local ecosystem and went on to do the same to others. Somewhere along the way, Dob had got it into his head that the goal was to start a brewery of their own and hold a cider-making contest in the Esterwell town square… an idea the group at large now referred to as “Plan C.”

Plan A, currently underway, was to continue the detective lark and either talk sense into Horgan or (more likely) run him out of town. Plan B was burning down the distillery.

“I’m still very much in favor of bumping Plan B up to Plan A,” said Prudence, wiggling her fingers as the group made their way back into Esterwell.

“Mrow,” Merilwen the cat grumbled from Dob’s shoulder, which translated to something like, “But that doesn’t actually solve the problem of making him stop.”

“Oh, fine,” Prudence huffed. “Detectives it is.”

Corazón pumped a fist low and (he thought) out of sight. “DCI Jeff Crimestopper back on the case, bay-bee.”

They arrived at the home of Alonzo Horgan — a palatial manor in a town that really wasn’t the sort to have palatial manors. At least half a dozen residences would have to have been knocked down to make way for the place, which stood half again as high as the buildings around it that had survived.

Merilwen hopped lightly from Dob’s shoulder, turning back into an elf again, as the half-orc tapped politely on the door.

“No, no.” Egbert shoved past him, balling up one scaly fist. “You’ve gotta really punch it.” He slammed his fist against the door several times, making it bow slightly under the pressure.

“Open up!” Corazón shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “We have a warrant!”

“Don’t just say we have a warrant!” Merilwen hissed.

The door was opened mere moments later by a tall, rail-thin man with an upturned nose and a downturned moustache. “Mmcan I help you?”

Corazón pushed past the man. “Yeah, you can take us to Alonzo Horgan. We’re taking him down to the station for questioning.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Horgan is not—” But the man was cut off as the rest of the group piled past and into the house.

“Where is he, then? Upstairs?” Corazón pointed up the stairwell, one foot on the steps.

The man at the door, to his credit, did his best to maintain his decorum. “Mr. Horgan is not taking visitors.”

“We’re not visitors,” Dob said gruffly, looming over the man, “we’re detectives.”

“Is that so? Well, I do hope you meant what you said about having a warrant. Otherwise I may have to take you to the authorities.”

Alonzo Horgan’s voice silenced the group, but had it not, his presence would have. Fully six-foot-four, a stocky mix of fat and muscle generally only seen on back alley brawlers, stuffed into a fancy suit. His glare was imperious; his moustache was excellent.

Corazón swiveled and approached the master of the house. “Alonzo Horgan?”

“Yes, I’m… not sure who else I would be.” Horgan seemed put out for a moment, but recovered himself. “May I ask what business you have here?”

“DCI Jeff Crimestopper.” Corazón pulled a piece of paper from his coat, flashed it briefly, and put it away again. “This is my DI, Dob Tyler.”

Dob grinned toothily; had it not been Dob, it might have looked threatening. “Here to make sure my loose cannon superior does things by the book.”

Corazón gestured to the rest of the party. “DS Prudence, DC Merilwen. And, er, PC Egbert, he mostly makes the tea.”

“It’s really good tea,” Egbert piped up.

“No offense, sir…” Horgan gestured to Corazón. “But you look more like a pirate than a detective.”

“Deep cover, obviously. I wouldn’t expect a civilian to understand.”

Horgan waved a hand dismissively. “Even if I were to entertain the idea that you’re who you claim to be, I feel I’ve done nothing to warrant an investigation.”

Merilwen narrowed her eyes. “Nothing, Mr. Horgan?” Her voice was tense, hitting that slightly higher octave that her friends knew meant violence was quickly becoming an option. “Killing off an entire species for your own benefit is ‘nothing’? Allowing the local wildlife to starve is ‘nothing’?”

“Oh, it’s about the distillery, is it? I promise you, my dear, I’ve heard it all before.”

Dob gritted his teeth, giving Horgan a highly dramatic, highly knowing look. “I’d be careful if I was you, sir. DC Merilwen has a license to… er. Bear.”

Still, none of this seemed to faze Horgan. “If you think complaining about my methods is going to have any effect… let me assure you, it hasn’t yet. Now, unless you have any actual business with me…”

Prudence stepped up. “All right, look. Fine. We’re not actually detectives.”

“You don’t say,” Horgan deadpanned.

“That said… the whole slime issue is a real thing, and we really do need you to stop hunting them out completely. Or at least cut back.” Prudence looked back at Merilwen. “Cut back? Would that be good enough?”

“I prefer the idea of him stopping completely,” Merilwen seethed.

Prudence gestured to Merilwen. “Yeah, what she said. But I mean, it affects you, too. Do you like, uh… wild boar? I guess? Rabbit? Pheasant? I don’t know.” She spread her hands in an exaggerated shrug. “Screw up the food chain and you don’t get any of those.”

Horgan looked them all over, one by one. “You come into my home. You pretend to be something you’re not. And then you make demands of me that would effectively shut down my business. Give me one reason why I should even listen to what you have to say.”

Egbert had mostly detached from the scene in front of him, his eyes scanning his surroundings in search of something entertaining. They lighted on a pair of crossed swords on the wall, with a bronze plaque underneath: Esterwell Annual Fencing Championship, Second Place. Without thinking, he blurted out, “A duel.”

“I beg your pardon?” Horgan asked. The rest of the party fixed Egbert with confused looks.

“A duel,” the dragonborn repeated, with a little more confidence this time — confidence filled in a lot of blanks, in his experience. “If one of us bests you in a duel, you have to at least give us a proper audience.”

Much to the group’s surprise — including Egbert’s, truth be told — Horgan seemed to consider it. “Hmm. Well. I suppose it makes more sense than… whatever we’ve been doing.” He gestured at the room in general, then turned to Corazón. “On the condition that I fight this one.”

Corazón grinned. “Hell yeah. I’ll fight you. Prepare to have your whole scene wrecked by Corazón de Ballena.”

“I thought you said your name was Jeff Crimestopper.”

“I told you. Deep cover.”

Horgan sighed wearily and turned to his doorman. “See them out. Tomorrow at sunrise on the lawn. Come alone, whatever your name is. And pray you do not lose. I have no patience for time-wasters.”

The five were ushered out without another word.

“Not sure it’s wise to challenge a prizewinning fighter to a duel,” Merilwen noted when they were outside town again. “That sort of seems like the main thing he’ll be ready for.”

Egbert waved a hand. “Pff, it’s fine. The plaque on his wall said he was only second place. That means there’s at least one person better than him in town.”

“Still… What’s going to happen if Corazón if he loses?”

Corazón laughed. “Pff. Hah. Nothing. Because Corazón won’t lose.” He unsheathed his rapier and stopped to take a few jabs at a nearby tree. A heavy branch, near to breaking, creaked overhead. “You know what my crew used to call me?”

“Yes,” said Prudence, “you’ve complained about it several times.”

“I mean in battle. You know, when we captured ships. My swordsmanship is second to none. They used to call me Corazón the—”

There was a crash, and silence.

Egbert stopped walking, waiting for the punchline. “Corazón the what?”

“Er.” Merilwen pointed back toward the tree hesitantly. “Corazón the unconscious, apparently.”

Prudence turned and lifted away the branch, wincing at the sight of the pirate splayed out on the ground. “Oh, dear…” Then she looked up at the group. “So does this mean I’m captain now?”

---

The general consensus had been to let Corazón be once he’d been carried back to the Joyful Damnation and bundled into bed. He would likely be full of opinions and complaints as soon as he woke up. That, and he’d need his rest before dueling Horgan the next morning.

There was no bleeding as far as they could tell. Just a big bruise that would get bruisier over the next few days. Egbert dropped a quick bit of healing on Corazón which, while it would likely be helpful in the long run, did nothing to wake him. Eventually, Dob took up a seat by the enormous bed in the captain’s quarters, keeping an eye on the patient and picking out a few chords to pass the time. Just as he was getting a good riff worked out...

“Ow.”

“Ow?” Dob leaned over the bed. “Did you say ow?”

“Yes, I said ow. Because I’m in pain.”

Dob jumped up from his seat and threw the door open. “Guys! Guys! He’s awake!”

Prudence was the first to run in. “Is he okay?”

“Sounds like it.”

Egbert followed, with Merilwen bringing up the rear. They crowded around Corazón’s bed, realized at the same time that that would probably look weird from his vantage point, and backed off a bit.

“Corazón?” Dob leaned in slightly. “How’s your head?”

He squinted up at Dob. “What did you call me?”

“Oh, right.” Dob laughed. “Silly me. How’s your head, DCI Crimestopper?”

This just seemed to confuse him more. “Who… what are you talking about?” Then he pulled himself up to sitting, perhaps a little more quickly than he ought, and pressed a hand to the top of his head, looking around. “I feel like I’ve been beaned with an entire tree. Where the hell am I?”

“Your room,” Prudence offered. “We figured you’d want a nap after the bludgeoning.”

He shook his head, still sounding a bit dazed. “No… this isn’t my room. My room is bigger. And it doesn’t rock and creak. Are we… are we on a ship?” He looked up at the others again, as though seeing them for the first time.

“... who the hell are all of you?”

There was an awkward silence.

“He’s messing about, right?” Egbert grinned nervously at the others.

“It’s Corazón,” Prudence said quickly, “of course he’s messing about. Just humor him, he’ll be on to something new when he’s tired of it.”

Dob was already on board at humor him. He pressed a hand to his forehead. “Oh, no! Corazón! All our precious memories, lost forever! Please say it isn’t so, old friend!”

If Corazón was acting, he was really leaning into the deadpan delivery. “Is this some sort of prank? It’s not a very good one, if…” His gaze wandered down to his hands resting on the bed sheet, his sleeves wrinkled back somewhat. His eyes went wide, and he made a sort of choking, stammering sound.

Then, again far more quickly than he probably should have, he threw himself out of bed, shoving past Egbert on the way to the largest of his mirrors. Carefully, he pulled his collar aside. And gasped.

“Oh, my God, I’ve been tattooed in my sleep!”

“Gosh,” Egbert said with an admiring smile, “he’s really devoting himself to the bit, isn’t he?”

Merilwen shook her head slightly. “I… don’t… know if it’s a bit.”

“Which one of you did this to me?!” Corazón pointed at the tentacle tattoo emerging from under his collar. “Why would you do that? Why… what happened to my hair!? How long have I been asleep!?” He grabbed the nearest person — Egbert — by the collar. “Are you trying to change my identity!? Am I going to be sold off to the highest bidder!? What’s your plan!? You have to tell me!”

Dob grabbed for his lute, a nervous grin plastered on his face. “Ooooh! Oh, dear! Looks like someone could use a nice lullaby.”

Merilwen held out a warning hand to Dob. “No? No. One second.” She waved a hand to Corazón, the way one might a skittish fox. “Hey, over here.”

“What!? What do you want now!?”

“Just. Okay. Calm down for a second. Calm…” Merilwen inhaled and exhaled slowly, guiding the breathing with her hands. Corazón, surprisingly did the same. That in itself was a sign that something was off.

“Okay, just keep your eyes on me, all right?”

“Sure.” Corazón’s voice was strained.

Merilwen rooted around in the pocket of one of Corazón’s jackets, folded neatly over a nearby chair. She found what she was looking for — a little leather pouch of gold coins — and poured the contents out into her hand. She showed them to Corazón, as though setting up a magic trick. He watched and nodded tensely, his jaw set.

“Dob,” she said with a sweet smile, opening the cabin window. “Would you do the honors?”

“Would I?” Without hesitation, he took the little handful of coins from Merilwen, slid over to the window, and chucked them out into the sea, one by one.

All eyes turned toward Corazón.

“Yes, and?” The nervousness was tinged with irritation. “What?”

Another awkward silence, this one longer. And awkwarder. As they all, in their own time, came to terms with the fact that Corazón was not, in fact, acting.

Prudence tapped him experimentally on the shoulder. He flinched away, balling his hands into fists and holding them in front of his face.

“Hey, hey, whoa! No, no, we’re your friends! It’s us!” Prudence smiled, gesturing around the room. “You know. The Oxventurers! Can’t you recognize us?”

Corazón lowered his fists. “If you mean could I pick you out of a lineup, then yes, I certainly could.”

“Corazón…”

“Hff… and stop calling me that! It’s weird!” He brushed off his sleeve where Prudence had tapped him. “If you’re my kidnappers, then I would hope you already know who I am.”

“Y-Yeah.... Sorry.” Prudence frowned, then smiled. “Percy?”

“Thank you. That’s more like it.” And Corazón made a break for the deck.

---

“All I’m saying,” said the half-orc with the large hammer and the very nice hair, “is that we could be having a cider-making contest in the town square right now.”

“Or burning things,” said the tiefling, as a pair of ancient tomes played around her heels like rowdy puppies. “We could also be burning things right now.”

If this was a kidnapping, it was a very civilized one. Percy hadn’t had any practical experience with being kidnapped, to be fair. His father had suggested that it might happen once or twice in his youth, because that was just how life was for the children of rich and influential people. But after making it to adulthood without ever waking up in a dingy cellar surrounded by leering mercenaries, he’d just put it to the side.

He’d also been a bit disappointed, as escaping from said mercenaries could have been fun. But in retrospect, he might not have done as well at that as he liked to pretend.

He wasn’t tied up, or locked up. At worst, he had been prevented from leaping off the ship by all four of his kidnappers (and a seal, he was still contending with that information) piling themselves on top of him. They’d bundled him back into the captain’s quarters while they consulted with each other. Percy took the time to shave — the itch from his stubble was frazzling his already-frazzled brain — and change into a shirt that still had functional buttons.

The change had gotten a slight stare of disbelief from his captors, as though he’d gone and swapped heads, but no actual comments were made. And now, the dragonborn was sitting by him on the deck and handing him a cup of tea, and it smelled suspiciously like what he drank at home, and yes, this was absolutely one of his teacups.

“So!” the dragonborn said with a toothy grin. “Cora-... er, Percival. Percy? Mr. Milquetoast? Sorry, not sure what to call you now.” He had a cup of his own, but rather than sipping from it, he opened his long snout and splashed the contents inside. Judging by the reaction that followed, the tea was still very hot.

“Just, er… whichever? I guess?” Why was he sitting on a ship drinking tea with his kidnappers while they asked what to call him? Why had his father not been mentioned yet? Was that still incoming? His teacup rattled against the saucer.

“Mmmm… Percy. I’ve always thought you looked like a Percy.”

“Always?” Percy put his teacup down shakily on its saucer. “Then you’ve been spying on me? For how long?”

“No!” The dragonborn waved a hand frantically in front of himself. “No, no, I mean… we’re not…” He looked behind him, where the other three were peering at the scene thoughtfully. “Um, guys, I’m not doing great. Someone else try.”

The elf stepped in and tapped him on the shoulder, as though relieving him from duty. Good. As far as Percy could tell, she was the most logical of the group. She wasn’t panicking… not that he could see, at least.

“So you’re Good Cop, then?” Percy eyed her warily.

“No…” The elf sighed, a sort of long-suffering sigh that made him feel like this was not the first long-suffering sigh she’d issued him. “We’re your friends, really. And we’re just trying to figure out how to help you.”

Percy narrowed his eyes. “My friends.”

“Yes.”

“Not magical kidnappers looking for a piece of the Milquetoast fortune.”

“No. Not magical kidnappers looking for a piece of the family fortune. I promise.”

“I mean, I have friends at home. I can just go home to my actual friends, and not whatever you guys are pretending to be.”

The elf’s face settled into an expression that somehow managed to be both neutral and confrontational, her lips pressed into a line. “Name four friends you have at home.”

Damn. “Uh, th-there’s, uh… there’s Steve… F-Friendsman.”

“Yeah.”

“There’s, a-um, Roger… M’buddy.”

The elf pressed a hand to her face. “Please, at least let us try to help you.”

She seemed absolutely genuine. It was making his head hurt. This was not how criminals acted. As far as he knew. “Fine, help me, or whatever it is you want to do.”

“All right, so…” The elf clasped her hands together. “It’s probably just a matter of jogging your memory. You got a little bop on the head, it shook things up, but we can help you connect things up again. Right?”

“Sure,” Percy said hesitantly, now with the added wrinkle of wondering when and how he’d been hit over the head. He considered asking, but he could already hear the answer. No, we didn’t hit you over the head intentionally. It was a love tap. Something like that.

The elf smiled. It didn’t seem like a kidnapper’s smile. But again, he had nothing to go on. Maybe kidnappers had really nice smiles. “Okay, good. So let’s just rattle out a few of the high points, and see what your brain latches onto.”

Percy nodded, taking a sip from the teacup he still held in a death grip.

“Okay. Spicy rat?” She paused, and he wasn’t sure what for. After a short silence, she picked up again. “No? Okay, that was a while ago, admittedly. Uh… baby-making watch?”

“Babies don’t come from watches,” Percy scoffed. “They come from under cabbage leaves.”

The elf ground to a halt in her questioning, but picked up again with a shake of the head. “What about the party? The one where you went dressed as a sexy nurse and made a teenage girl cry.”

Percy scowled. “I would never do that!”

The half-orc chuckled. “Oh, you very much did.”

“I will not allow you to paint me with the same brush as you, you… s-scoundrels!” Percy felt a chill down the back of his neck. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? You’re trying to convince me I’m one of you and whisk me away to do unspeakable crimes, is that it?”

“Hasn’t taken much trying so far, mate,” Merilwen grumbled.

“Waaaait wait wait wait.” The tiefling squeezed up next to the elf. “We’re coming at this from the wrong angle. He’s clearly forgotten stuff from before we met him, too, right? What we need to do is remind him of why he became a pirate.”

Percy looked around the ship. Then down at the clothes he’d woken up in. And the tattoo on his wrist. “I’m a pirate?”

“Yep, you are a pirate.”

“So… this really is my ship?”

“Er, our ship, yes.” The tiefling seemed to take a lot of pride in saying that. Well, being co-owner of a ship was something to be proud of… if it was true, he’d probably let himself feel a bit proud, too. “So, maybe if you can summon up the feelings that made you want to run away from home and be a pirate, the rest will follow. So, tell us about your dad.”

“He’s… dumb?” Percy shrugged. “He’s annoying? I don’t know, it’s a lot of effort to run away from him for being dumb and annoying. I’ve got nothing.”

The tiefling leaned in conspiratorially. “Nothing about what a bad dad he is? How he has ridiculous expectations of you? Doesn’t want you to have fun and live your own life?” She paused. “How he’s got a stupid wig and he’s all stuffy and bossy?”

Percy leaned away from her. “You seem to have plenty against him already.”

“Oh, no, no. I don’t hate him. You do.”

“No, it really does sound like it’s you.”

The tiefling laughed, waving a hand. “Oh, no, that’s just because he bothers you. It’s a support thing. I’d totally love to live in his big ol’ house.”

“So you’re telling me you don’t like my father, but you do like his money, and that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

The tiefling’s face twisted into a confused frown. “Oh, man. Yeah, we do kinda sound like we kidnapped you for ransom, don’t we?”

Percy flinched away, nearly dropping his teacup. Oddly, the tiefling was once again trying to reassure him. “Which we didn’t?? Which we didn’t. I’m just saying.” She sighed. “I guess he forgot whatever happened that made him want to run away, too. How about you, Egbert? Got any paladin magic for him?”

“I’ve got something better!”

All eyes, Percy’s included, turned to the dragonborn — who was now swinging a mace from one clawed hand.

“So, you know how in all the stories, right? Someone gets knocked on the head and gets amnesia, but then they get hit in the same spot and all their memories come back. Let’s just do that!”

The dragonborn strode over to Percy, winding up the mace. Percy stumbled backwards, his teacup falling and shattering on the deck. “Don’t you dare!”

“Egbert, not that mace!” the elf shouted.

“Oh, it’s fiiiine. I had to hit whatsisname loads of times before he actually turned into a seal.”

Percy looked at the seal. The seal looked back.

“Eg.”

The dragonborn raised his mace over his head. Percy stumbled backwards towards the door to the captain’s quarters, eyes locked on the cursed weapon. He reached behind him for the doorknob and twisted frantically. The door wouldn’t give way.

The elf flung herself at the dragonborn, turning into an octopus in midair. The two hit the deck, the mace rolling harmlessly across the deck as the octopus held the would-be attacker in place. Percy finally managed to yank the door open, racing into the captain’s quarters and slamming the door behind him.

“I meant a spell!” Percy heard the tiefling yell from the other side of the door. “You’ve got more healing spells, don’t you?”

“Oh, riiiight…”

There was a gentle tap at the door. Percy eyed it nervously.

“Heeey, buddy. You okay?” It was the half-orc. “Can I come in?”

“No, you absolutely cannot come in. You’re all insane and there’s a seal man out there saying egg.”

“That’s cool, that’s cool. I’ll just sit out here, how’s that?”

Percy heard a gentle thump against the other side of the door. “So… you really don’t remember anything, do you? About us, or your pirate crew, or any of that?”

“Last thing I remember is going to bed at Milquetoast Manor and thinking tomorrow night’s party was going to be very boring. Then I woke up in bed on a strange boat, with all of you standing over me looking ready to dissect me or something.” Percy sat down, leaning on the other side of the door. His head still felt foggy. “So? Which one of you blackjacked me?”

“You blackjacked yourself with a tree.”

Percy frowned. “Is that the sort of thing I’m likely to do?”

“Oh, yes,” the half-orc said cheerfully. “Merilwen had a stack of tree puns ready to go, but under the circumstances it seemed, uh… bit tasteless.”

“Merilwen?”

“The elf. Don’t worry, you can hear them later. You know, when your head’s right again.” A pause. “Oh! Haha. Of course. I’m Dob, by the way. The tiefling is Prudence, and the big dragon man is Egbert. And we’re all your friends, and we all do super cool things together.”

Percy nodded, still not completely convinced. Then he realized Dob wouldn’t be able to see him on the other side of the door. “If you say so.”

“Gosh. Introducing myself to you. That brings back memories.” Dob stopped himself, fumbling, as if he’d just said something extremely offensive. “I mean… you know…”

Against his better judgment, Percy got up and opened the door. Dob, leaning heavily on it, tumbled backwards… but turned the tumble into a backwards somersault and landed lightly on his feet. He gave a little bow, and Percy felt he ought to clap. Just considering the effort.

“You ready to come out and talk to the others?”

Percy leaned to one side and looked out onto the deck. Egbert was on his feet again, with Merilwen (now an elf) still clinging to his back, as though uncertain whether the dragonborn could be trusted on his own yet. Prudence wore a friendly smile that seemed to say “I’m not going to sacrifice you to my eldritch god, but I’m also not not going to sacrifice you to my eldritch god.” His trusted friends. Apparently.

Before Percy could answer, Dob slapped him on the back and walked him out onto the deck. “All right. We’ve all had a little breather, a little think, and I think… and this is just me… we should back-burner the memory loss issue and focus on the bigger problem.”

“There’s a bigger problem?” Percy looked at Dob incredulously.

The group at large winced. “Yeah…” Dob continued to speak for the group, and no one seemed to mind being relieved of that duty for the moment. “See, Percy. Percival. Friend. Our good friend of so long…”

“Just tell me what’s going to happen to me.”

“You have to duel someone tomorrow morning.”

Percy extracted himself from Dob’s friendly side-arm. “What? Why? Why would I do that?”

“Again,” said Dob, “if it makes you feel better, it is extremely on brand.”

“Hsfd… it doesn’t make me feel better! I have to fight someone tomorrow and I’m not me! I mean, I am me, but I’m not this other me who went and did a thing I didn’t do!”

Amongst them, Percy’s friends(?) laid out the entire situation. All he managed to retain were slimes, collapse of the natural world, very large man, and imminent swordfight. The rest was a sort of blur, and one he was in no mood to attempt to figure out.

“I can’t do this.” It was a statement of fact. “Maybe this Corazón guy can do this, but I can’t. Horgan’s going to be expecting some jerk pirate who can swordfight.”

“We can try another refresher,” suggested Merilwen.

Egbert reached for his mace. “I could try—-”

“No,” said everyone, possibly even the seal.

“Look,” Dob said gently, “we’ll have puh-lenty of time to work on the memory thing, right? All we have to do is get through tomorrow, and if it hasn’t cleared up by then, we’ll find someone to help you, no problem.”

“How can you be so sure?” Percy asked, the fretting feeling coming back even stronger than before.

Egbert shrugged. “It’ll happen. That’s how it tends to go. A problem comes up, and then a couple days later someone comes along with a quest that’ll fix it. It’s really handy.”

“Okay, that’s great for after tomorrow morning. But what about me, tomorrow morning, with swords? What’s my guarantee I get past that alive? Because I’ve never actually stabbed a man.”

“Yes you have,” Prudence pointed out.

“Like a lot,” Merilwen added.

“Apparently you kicked a man to death once,” said Egbert. “I mean, I found out later, but I believe it.”

“But I don’t remember that!” Percy flailed an arm helplessly. “It’s… hds… that’s some future guy and I’m not the future guy, I’m the me guy. How is the me guy going to survive?”

The group fell silent.

“... did I actually kick a man to death?”

They all nodded.

“Oh…”

“And see? That’s why we believe in you, Cor… er, Percy.” Dob threw an arm around Percy’s shoulders again. “We know what you’re capable of. We know it’s in here.” He jabbed at Percy’s chest with one finger. “And in here.” At his head.

“Ow!”

“The head, Dob,” Merilwen hissed, “watch the head.”

“Right, right. Look. We’ve got tonight to train you up into a believable Corazón de Ballena. You’ve already got the look, you’ve already got the voice. That’s more than most people start with.”

Percy let out a weak groan.

“Hey! No, this is good! We can do this! And maybe, somewhere along the way, something will trigger the ol’ bean and the memories will just come flooding back. Right, guys?”

The rest of the team seemed to believe it about as much as Percy did. Which wasn’t much.

“Are you sure we can’t just…” Percy motioned to the anchor rope. “Leave?”

“No,” Merilwen said firmly. But her expression was still hesitant. “No, we have to stop Horgan. More than anything else, that has to happen.”

She was insistent. This was important to her. Percy groaned again.

“Come on, buddy.” Dob lifted his arm from Percy’s shoulders, grabbing him by both arms and staring him in the eyes. “Look me in the eye.”

“Yeah. Looking.”

“Now. Are you a Thieves Cant, or a Thieves Can?”

Merilwen, at least, seemed to appreciate what Dob was going for.

---

Plan B no longer stood for Burning. Plan B, as indicated by a wild-shaped Merilwen taking up a spot behind the topiaries on Horgan’s lawn, now stood for Bear. And possibly Bomb, and Blast, and Bard Casts Thunder Wave, depending on who got trigger-happy first.

No amount of swordfighting or storytelling brought Corazón’s memory back. Nor did any amount of actually insisting on calling him Corazón. Their last ditch hope — that he’d wake up the next morning acting like nothing had happened — didn’t pan out, either. Dob gave pep talk after pep talk as Corazón fretted uncharacteristically, the latter eventually wrapping the uneaten bacon sandwich he’d made for himself in a piece of paper and stowing it in a jacket pocket. Finally, though, they’d all had to take up their positions and leave the rest to luck.

Corazón was left to make the walk up the lawn alone, but the other four had formed a perimeter: Merilwen in the topiary, Dob in a nearby tree, Prudence behind a fence, and Egbert peering over a hedge. Dob promised to shoot Corazón an occasional prompt if things got hairy; but, by and large, it was all him.

As the sun began to rise, Corazón walked up the paved path to the appointed spot. He’d not quite gotten his own swagger down, instead walking slow, measured steps with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

Try to look like you’re too cool for the room! Dob thought; Corazón looked up and around, surprised, then seemed to remember what Dob had said about sending mental messages. He stopped where he was, pulled his hands out of his pockets, squared his shoulders, and walked even more awkwardly up the path.

Fine. It’d have to do.

Just as the light of sunrise hit its best and most aesthetic hue, Alonzo Horgan and his servant walked out. The former wore a rapier at his belt.

“Corazón de Ballena,” Horgan said broadly, his voice dripping with fake friendliness. “Or are we going by something new today?”

“No, er, that’s me.”

Dob thought another swift message.

“I mean… that’s right! That’s me, Corazón. The mighty pirate. Here to run you through like a tasty kebab and grill… grill you on the fires of justice? What the hell does that mean?”

Just go with it, Dob thought irritably, but the moment had passed. Shame. He was rather proud of that one.

Horgan eyed Corazón with amusement. “I can wait if you need a moment.”

“No, no. Erm. Yes, that’s me.” Corazón’s hand hovered over the hilt of his rapier. He was tense. He was ready. He might have been about to faint. It was hard to tell.

Horgan’s retainer’s voice was soft. None of them could hear it from their respective points along the perimeter. Corazón didn’t look especially surprised by any of it, which hopefully meant there was nothing odd about the rules of the duel.

From their spots, separated though each of them was, they all had the same thought at the same time: what would it take? What hadn’t they done? Would they need a spell? Some sort of quest? A skilled healer? Would another bop on the head really have done it?

A shrill whistle blew. Each of them was shaken out of their thoughts to see that the duel had begun, and Corazón was already flagging quickly. It was less of a duel and more of a chase, the enormous Horgan lumbering across the lawn after his smaller opponent. Corazón, for his part, was holding his ground… though “his ground” was constantly moving backwards across the lawn in zigzags.

His heel came dangerously close to a stray root, nearly hidden by the grass.

“Look out!” Egbert shouted. Merilwen, Dob, and Prudence shushed him. Horgan looked up and around for the source of the voice. Corazón, on the other hand, missed the warning entirely. His heel caught on the root, and he windmilled backwards, landing flat on his back.

Merilwen hesitated behind the topiary, one huge, clawed paw creeping around the side of the greenery. Was it go time? The others were in the same state of indecision, poised to attack but waiting to see what happened.

Corazón lifted his head slightly. The massive form of Horgan hovering over him, blade raised threatening, blocked out the faint light of sunrise. The sword hung there for a moment… then was flung across the lawn, accompanied by a disgusted sigh from Horgan.

“How very disappointing.”

The group shot each other quick glances. The message was clear. Well, clear-ish. “Stop Horgan before he can leave” was clear enough, but what would be done with him once apprehended was likely still up in the air. Corazón, unaware of any of this, propped himself up on his elbows.

“Where are you going?” he asked weakly. “We’re not done here.”

“I rather think we are.” Horgan shook his head in… amusement? Disappointment? It was hard to tell. “What a shame. You were so full of piss and vinegar yesterday, and today you’ve got no real fight in you.”

“I’ve got fight… I’ve got plenty of… hhhh.” Corazón put a hand to his head.

“Serves me right, thinking I’d get a good fight out of some puffed-up fake pirate.”

“... what did you say?” Corazón’s voice was suddenly oddly sharp and cold.

Horgan chuckled. “You heard me. You’re less convincing than the chap I hired for my niece’s seventh birthday party.” He waved a hand to his servant. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve not had breakfast yet and I’m peckish. Think I might go to the kitchen and have a bit of a graze.”

On his next step, Horgan’s booted foot slid forward, sending him falling backwards into a puddle of grease that had absolutely not been there moments ago. Now it was his turn to look up at a looming silhouette: Corazón de Ballena, sword pointing down threateningly in one hand, bacon sandwich in the other.

“How appropriate. You fight like a cow.”

Horgan spluttered, eyes bulging. “You… what nonsense is this!?”

“It’s called the power of grease, that’s what nonsense this is. Now get up and fight me so we can have our little talk. Or would you rather we just go ahead and burn your whole scene down?”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Yeah, you’re right, I wouldn’t. I think Prudence might, though.” Corazón shouted toward the fence. “Prudence! Plan B for burn?”

Prudence threw her hands in the air. “Plan B for buuuurn!”

Horgan had managed to pull himself up to one knee, the grease still dangerously slick beneath him. “I said to come alone!”

“Yeah, well, pirate. Don’t know what you expected.” Corazón stepped back, taking a bite of his sandwich. “So, I’m calling this a win for Team Oxventure. Which means it’s time for some negotiations concerning your, er, current business model.”

“But…” Horgan looked in the direction of his servant. He was long gone. Whether he’d run off, or whether the large bear standing where he’d stood had disposed of him, Horgan couldn’t tell.

“Oh, yes. That’s our sustainability advisor, Merilwen. She’ll be taking over from here.”

Merilwen growled.

---

“So what you’re saying,” said Egbert, “is that my plan was the best and would have worked.”

“Hff… no! Absolutely not.” Corazón was rubbing a hand over his chin, displeased with the lack of facial hair. “A one-in-six chance of being turned into an animal is not a best plan. Why did you let me shave? I hate it.”

“It’ll grow back.” Prudence poured out a mug of slime beer… the last remaining barrel, which they’d taken with them as a gratuity after aggressively convincing Horgan to discontinue his fermented slime line. She offered the mug to Merilwen, who waved a hand in front of herself emphatically.

“No, I don’t want to drink the poor baby slimes…” The rest became too high-pitched and tearful to translate.

“I’ll drink the poor baby slimes.” Dob grabbed the mug and necked half of it, much to Merilwen’s chagrin. “Anyway, what snapped you out of it? Was it hitting your head again?”

Corazón wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Don’t know. I know I got really mad when whatsisname called me a fake pirate, and I wasn’t having that.”

Prudence’s eyes lit up. “Ohh, spite! Literally the one thing we didn’t think to try!”

“Well,” said Dob, passing Corazón his mended teacup topped off with beer, “I think we’ve all had a chance to learn something about friendship and patience and being true to ourselves.”

Egbert poured himself a pint. “I haven’t learned anything.”

“I have.”

Everyone looked at Corazón. “Have you?” Dob asked.

“Yep.” Corazón took a sip of beer from the teacup. “We are absolutely terrifying.”

Merilwen nodded sagely.

“Yeah,” Prudence said dreamily. “It’s good.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to my room, and I’m not coming out again until my good facial hair is back.” The door to the captain’s quarters slammed behind Corazón.

And that is the story of how the Oxventurers brought down a corrupt businessman with a breakfast sandwich.

#oxventure #outside xbox #i'm supposed to be writing other things but i won't tell if you won't #anyway yes i write stories a lot i do them for a living #please read them #i love approval from strangers

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yeonchi · 3 years

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The state of tokusatsu in the West in 2021

The events of the past few weeks have taken the Western toku fanbase by storm. Amidst the shitstorm of spergs and a-logs who think they’re being rational but are really low-key spergs, unexpected turns in events are heralding the death knell for tokusatsu fansubs (that was going to be the name of this post initially). In addition, these events have also exposed the state of tokusatsu in the West in 2021, whether it be in regards to fansubs and streaming or Shirakura and the fanbase.

An update on the current situation

This is an update to the two posts I made in the past few weeks regarding the subject.

So some Indonesian wrote a Twitter thread about tokusatsu in general and in one of those tweets, he mentions Shirakura and the recent fansub scandal in a passing manner. Another Indonesian quote retweets him and tags Shirakura and this is what he got:

A few hours later, Shirakura wrote a few tweets about the situation (which are after the break):

(Tweets 1 and 3 translated by killadelfo, tweets 2, 4 and 5 translated by me because Shirakura and other a-logs won’t do it)

Some context:

Tweet 1 - 「雉も鳴かずば打たれまい」 directly translates to "If the pheasant didn't ring, then it wouldn't have been hit". At a stretch, it sounds like victim-blaming in rape culture. Also, the “semi-official streaming site” Shirakura is referring to is TokuHD, who are currently streaming Kamen Rider Agito and 555 with abysmal subtitle translation quality (Honshin and Olfenok) and were apparently licenced by an unknown third-party (if anyone knows, please tell me and I’ll update this).

Tweet 2 - The North Wind and the Sun, one of Aesop’s fables that teaches the superiority of persuasion over force. You can read the story here if you’re too infantile to read Wikipedia.

Later on, TV-Nihon officially announced that they have decided to stop subbing Saber and Zenkaiger, softsubs or hardsubs alike, with Takenoko stating that he doesn’t want to worry about legal trouble on their team. Whether or not they will sub future series is still unknown at the moment. Nothing has come back regarding the apparent C&D from Toei, particularly as NewZect and KRDL haven’t received anything else from them apart from one email (and KRDL received theirs in 2019 apparently).

Despite this, Shirakura has expressed his gratitude for fans across the world who watch Toei’s shows, no matter how they watch them. It’s a far cry from “I believe there’s no fanbase of Kamen Rider in the west practically.”

So now, let’s dissect the whole situation, from fansubbing, streaming and official releases to Shirakura and the Western fanbase.

Fansubbing, streaming and official releases: le Happy Merchant intensifies

There was a time when TV-Nihon held a monopoly in tokusatsu fansubbing, subbing series that other people normally wouldn’t have cared about, including the Chouseishin and Tomica Hero series. They were known for their mistakes in translation and extensive use of different fonts and effects, which led to groups like Over-Time springing up over the past decade in an effort to diversify the fansubbing scene and break up TV-Nihon’s monopoly. (It’s time to #ReleaseTheFonts, TV-Nihon. Get that hashtag trending.) Though TV-Nihon seem to have this unspoken rule to not mention other sub groups on their forums, the recent C&D debacle has resulted in a truce of sorts between them.

Many tokusatsu fans outside of Japan will have known of the genre through fansubs and I am no exception. It’s very likely that for a long time, Japanese executives thought the only toku Westerners liked was Power Rangers, but in recent years, the increasing popularity of tokusatsu in the West has led to companies like Toei and Tsuburaya drawing up plans to release their series in the West. Presumably due to the two companies’ different attitudes to copyright, their IPs are being treated differently, as I will detail.

Tsuburaya - Based and redpilled For some reason, Ultraman is a franchise that very few fansub groups have cared about over the years, which makes Tsuburaya’s Western expansion that much more special.

Before 2018, Crunchyroll streamed Leo, 80, Gaia, Nexus, Max, Mebius, Ginga (S), X, Orb and Geed, but they have now been removed from the platform as Mill Creek Blu-rays, TokuHD, TokuSHOUTsu and Tsuburaya’s YouTube channel became more prolific.

Tsuburaya has been streaming the newest episodes of Ultraman weekly on their YouTube channel since 2012, presumably because their coverage on TV Tokyo and their affiliates don’t cover all of Japan. They have added Chinese subtitles to their episodes since either Geed or R/B and even though their translations of some names can be a bit autistic, they have added English subtitles to their episodes since Z following the release of Ultra Galaxy Fight: New Generation Heroes with dual audio and multi-language subtitles (including English). Alongside reruns of older series, Tsuburaya releases episodes on YouTube every week, which are then available for two weeks. In addition, they also have separate channels where they publish dubs for Ultraman episodes in Mandarin, Korean and even Cantonese (official TVB Tiga-Mebius dub release when), which is pretty based if you ask me.

Tsuburaya doesn’t seem to do takedowns of their materials on YouTube, though they do claim ownership of the material posted by other channels so that ad revenue goes to them. It’s the reason why whole series of Ultraman and various compilations using footage from various episodes are still surviving on YouTube today. Cynically though, I suspect that the main reason they don’t do takedowns is because they can’t afford to following years of financial problems and their decades-long conflict with Chaiyo Productions. They probably thought that it wouldn’t be worth it.

Toei - Cringe and bluepilled Is it any wonder that the one company with the more popular series amongst a niche fanbase would be so Jewish with their copyrights? While entire series and various compilations have been taken down by Toei over the years (which they technically have the right to do), they don’t give fans (particularly outside of the US) a lot of options to support them officially, so they only dug this hole for themselves. It’s also very naive of people to presume that Toei doesn’t know about fansubs; it would be fair to say that it’s an open secret that neither Toei nor fansub groups can acknowledge for fear of legal retribution.

From 2015 to 2019, Shout! Factory have released Super Sentai series from Jetman (the first pre-Mighty Morphin series to be released in the West) to Hurricaneger, but since Power Rangers was sold from Saban to Hasbro, Shout! Factory have not regained the rights to distribute any further series and Toei hasn’t done much lobbying in that regard. However, Shout! Factory have begun streaming some Kamen Rider series from 2020 on TokuSHOUTsu (Shout! Factory TV) and Tubi (in addition to the Super Sentai series they had already licenced), namely the original series, Kuuga, Ryuki, Zero-One and the Heisei Generations FOREVER movie. Agito and 555 are streaming on TokuHD (as I mentioned before) and Amazons is streaming on Amazon Prime.

While Toei does have an official tokusatsu YouTube channel, where they stream their library of series similar to how Tsuburaya does with their YouTube channel, it is only available in Japan. In April 2020, Toei began uploading their series on Toei Tokusatsu World, a separate YouTube channel created specifically for their Western fans that immediately got taken down by copyright strikes on their own content. Aside from streaming Metal Hero series and other toku series nobody cares about, they’ve only bothered to upload the first two episodes of every Kamen Rider series on there, with no plans to follow through with the rest of the episodes (Super Sentai is only available in Asia because of the last paragraph). Apparently, the official subtitled release of the first two Kamen Rider episodes was funded by the J-LOD scheme (Japan Content LOcalisation and Distribution) established by the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry and that they hope that fans would provide subtitles for the rest of the episodes. The only problem is that YouTube discontinued its community captions feature last year and I have been unable to find any evidence of Toei suggesting such a thing from their fans, so I can only assume that they either weren’t transparent about it or had no intention of doing so at all. You can see why I prefer Tsuburaya’s approach better. Frankly, I think Toei should have just uploaded TV-Nihon’s releases and called it a day.

There’s a Europoor sperg on Twitter (and the TV-Nihon forums) by the name of HowlingSnail who always complains about tokusatsu series only being licensed in the US. Like him or not, you’ve got to admit that he does have a point. Even in the age of VPNs and multi-region DVD players, the entire world has to be considered when it comes to international licencing and expansion because believe it or not, the “West” isn’t made up of just the US alone. Things shouldn’t have to be like this, and yet, things are the way they are.

Around the time that TV-Nihon (apparently) got C&D’d, Western fans were pissed that The Tokusatsu Network posted news of Toei streaming Kamen Rider Drive on their Japanese-exclusive channel, rubbing salt into their wounds, while also not saying anything about the current situation with fansubs. In TokuNet’s defence, I can understand why they wouldn’t do that; on top of being based in Japan, they’ve done interviews with various actors and producers on their YouTube channel, plus their senior editor, Tom Constantine, has made cameo appearances on a few episodes and movies. So if anything, TokuNet are closer to Toei than any other news site covering tokusatsu.

In summary, Toei are complicit in enabling this shitstorm that could have been preventable if they weren’t so incompetent and out-of-touch with their Western fanbase. If more scrutiny was exercised during the negotiation of Western licencing, we probably wouldn’t have had the TokuHD disaster. If Toei were more transparent with their intentions for streaming their toku series in the West, fansub groups would be more than happy to contribute to the official subtitles and/or take their (unofficial) releases down (though I don’t necessarily agree with this practice entirely). Or maybe if Toei actually made a media release saying that it was actually them who sent the C&D’s to KRDL, NewZect and TV-Nihon, we wouldn’t have had this debacle and this post would just be me talking about the death knell for tokusatsu fansubs (which would probably be just this section of the post).

In the lack of free and easily accessible means to access media protected behind paywalls and geoblocks, people will always turn to things like “illegal” streaming sites and torrenting, particularly when they believe that multi-million dollar companies don’t deserve their hard-earned money just because they keep bugging everyone to give it all to them.

(Also, I know someone called me out in one of my linked posts where I described Toei’s attitude to copyright as “Jewish”, but fuck you, my stance doesn’t change just because a few people got their fee-fees hurt from poking their noses into other people’s business. If Toei changes their attitude and gives us a plan for international distribution, then I might soften my stance.)

Shirakura and the Western fanbase: lolcows in their own right

So it’s been established that it’s a bad idea to tag Shirakura or anyone affiliated with Toei regarding this situation with the TV-Nihon C&D (or fansubs or leaks or whatever in general) because we don’t have the full details and they probably have no idea of what’s going on. Look, I know Shirakura is worthy of criticism for some things, but this is not one of them because he is the director of planning and production at Toei - he’s not responsible for international distribution or copyright takedowns. All that these spergs on TokuTwitter have done is prove that Shirakura has no idea what is going on and made Japanese fans aware (to some extent) that spergs like them exist. The irony behind Shirakura’s actions as the producer of some Kamen Rider series and his interactions with Western fans is the reason why I lovingly coin “The Shirakura Paradox” as a phrase to describe it.

I’ve noticed that a lot of people on TokuTwitter are very paranoid and reactionary. They believe in conspiracy theories like “TV-Nihon actually got C&D’d” and “Over-Time got C&D’d as well” when 1) the notice they got wasn’t a C&D per se or even a DMCA and 2) Over-Time never got C&D’d, though they did help TV-Nihon analyse the email and decided to stop posting about their releases when they were convinced that the email was somewhat legit (because a Toei email can’t be faked due to the Sender Policy Framework, or SPF).

With regards to the “reactionary” part, the main example relating to this is twt_tokusatsu, who has been blamed for causing this debacle with fansubs because Shirakura replied to her tweets (that did NOT mention fansubs) with a joke. However, another big example is WeiWenn and Ichi of the Castranger podcast. “What?”, I hear you ask in a surprised tone, “What do they have to do with all this?” If you want to know the story behind them, take a look at my Shirakura Paradox post under “You are supposed not to know about Trinity”.

I know this debacle was two years ago and that Ichi has deserved enough blame (and apologised) for posting scans from a toy catalog targeted at distributors and not consumers, but why the hell is WeiWenn being blamed when he only mentioned “Trinity” (in verbatim) possibly referring to Agito Trinity and not Zi-O Trinity? WeiWenn has been sent death threats because entitled manbabies with gunts can never read the latest leaks about new toys. As a result, WeiWenn has deleted his Twitter account, claiming that Shirakura’s joke was the last straw (Ichi has also deleted his Twitter account as well). Anyone who blames WeiWenn (or Ichi) for somehow causing the TV-Nihon C&D’s is just as retarded, if not more, than the people who still blame twt_tokusatsu, especially when the damage has already been done and the debacle is already two years old. As such, I stand behind #RespectWeiWenn and #RespectIchi. For more information, check out this Twitter thread and the below video.

youtube

Things like this are the reason why the tokusatsu fanbase in the West is seemingly on thin ice with Toei. If you ask me, TokuTwitter as a whole deserves to be discussed and mocked on sites like 4chan and Kiwi Farms, because some individuals seem to act in a manner resembling lolcows. On top of that, I wish that tokusatsu fans in Japan would talk more about this retardation and join in the circlejerking with their Western counterparts who are more sophisticated and logical.

In conclusion, the whole debacle with Toei and TV-Nihon has been a ticking time bomb fuelled by Toei’s incompetence and lack of awareness of their Western fanbase, who are no saints either with their lolcow attitudes. Tsuburaya is pretty based with their international distribution and TV-Nihon’s typesetters should #ReleaseTheFonts.

#tokusatsu #kamen rider #super sentai #ultraman #tv-nihon #releasethefonts #respectweiwenn #respectichi

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disneydeb1928 · 4 years

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One Piece Theory: The SWORD Initiative

The SWORD Initiative

SWORD first appeared in Chapter 956 when it was discovered that X Drake, a member of the 11 Supernovas was, in fact, an undercover Marine. Not much is known regarding this organization other then Drake is the Captain and Koby is also a member.

Storytelling: Oda is not a newbie when it comes to storytelling. I’ve said it a million times, but I will say it again: Oda has mastered a very unique type of storytelling. Many others will tell you the same thing. He is a man who values how you feel about characters above how you may feel about his organizations overall. This is why, he always introduces characters, allowing you to make your own judgements before revealing more information on them. With that being said, some people may believe that since this is a recent addition to the plot that this organization must not have been around long. However, that just isn’t true. Oda would never create something this relevant to the story that isn’t routed deep in the past. He loves to make his reveals and have us gasp because suddenly something that happened 200 chapters ago now makes sense. With that being said, I think it is safe to say that there is more to this organization that meets the eye. Therefore, let’s first establish their existence within the established timeline.

Timeline:

X Drake was born on October 24, 1491. We know that he was taken in by the marines when he was 20 years old (in 1511) after the incident of Rosinante stealing the Ope Ope no Mi from his father’s pirate crew. The wiki says that “He [would] eventually enlist as a Marine himself” indicating that he didn’t join right away.

Drake doesn’t appear in the story until chapter 498 (in the year 1522). That means that there are 11 years unaccounted for. In that time, we know he apparently rose to the rank of rear admiral before defecting (Ch. 509) – again no timeline specifics have been give (but I don’t doubt we will get them in the future).

However, me may be able to speculate based on other Marines.

· Tashigi was able to go from Master Chief Petty Officer to Ensign (skipping Warrant Officer) in the couple of months that took place between the Loguetown Arc and the Post-Enies Lobby Arc. After the timeskip, Tashigi was a Captain (skipping 4 positions). Therefore, overall, for her to go from Master Chief Petty Officer to Captain, it took roughly 2 years and a couple of months.

· Similarly, Smoker was able to from a Captain to a Commodore and then to Vice Admiral in the same time period (2 years and a couple of months).

· Therefore, one could speculate that to go from Master Chief Petty Officer to Vice Admiral it would take around 4 years and 6 months. Since Rear Admiral is only one rank below Vice Admiral I’m going to say that the times are probably similar. [Disclaimer 1: I say this recognizing that there are probably 1000 different things that go into promotions within the Marines (such as accomplishments, age, etc) and that not every person is going to advance at the same pace. With that being said, I do think that we can still learn a lot from it – He’s not a background character after all]. In conclusion, I think 4 years and 6 months is a decent ballpark to aim for and I am willing to speculate that it would have taken Drake at least 4 and a half years to reach the rank of Rear Admiral, putting his age at around 24 (placing this in the year 1515) [Disclaimer 2: This age is completely based off the possibility that Drake joined the marines during the first year he was with them]. All this means, is that at the earliest Drake was a Rear Admiral by 1515.

We are led to believe that his defection has always been staged, and that from the beginning, everything he did was towards advancing SWORD’s goal. So that means SWORD has existed since before the beginning of the series.

We do not know how long he was a pirate before he made his appearance, however, by the time he did, he already had a full crew and a bounty of 222,000,000. We know that Cavendish became a Supernova in 1521, so I think we can make that the latest that Drake could have possibly left the Marines.

Flashing forward, I think we can pretty much conclude that Koby joined SWORD at some point during the 2-year timeskip.

The Creation of SWORD

If that is the case, that we can conclude one of two things. Either:

1. Drake created the SWORD organization and began his own mission alone

2. SWORD already existed before that point and someone approached him to join and start his mission

There isn’t enough information available at this point to really say either way. However, I would speculate that SWORD wasn’t Drake’s idea.

Possible SWORD Members

1.) Issho / Fujitora & Ryokugyu

Issho and Ryokugyu are both new Admirals to replace the positions that Kuzan and Akainu left open during the 2-year timeskip. From what we’ve seen of Issho’s personality, I think he is probably one of the more likely options for SWORD members. He intentionally blinded himself when he became disgusted with all the evil and corruption he had seen in the world (Ch. 799). Some might say that he joined the Marines to fight that evil but perhaps the Marines are the evil he wanted to fight? We’ve seen multiple instances where he put the good of the people above capturing Luffy and the Straw Hats. So much so, Akainu and him got into a heated debate that ended with Issho being band from any Marine base until Luffy was captured (Ch. 801).

Outside of personality wise and evidence of him going outside of Marine orders, there is another reason he is on this list, as well as why I grouped him with Ryokugyu, who we know almost nothing about. And the answer to that is: The Folklore of Momotaro.

An excerpt of the Folklore of Momotaro:

“When he matured into adolescence, Momotarō left his parents to fight a band of Oni (demons or ogres) who marauded over their land, by seeking them out in the distant island where they dwelled (a place called Onigashima or "Demon Island"). En route, Momotarō met and befriended a talking dog, monkey and pheasant, who agreed to help him in his quest in exchange for a portion of his rations (kibi dango or "millet dumplings"). At the island, Momotarō and his animal friends penetrated the demons' fort and beat the band of demons into surrendering. Momotarō and his new friends returned home with the demons' plundered treasure and the demon chief as a captive.”

It has been said before that Aokiji, Akainu, and Kizaru’s Admirals alias are based on the three animals that helped Momotaro (pheasant, dog, and monkey). A fan wrote to Oda in the recent SBS (Vol. 76) and theorized that Fujitora and Ryokugyu (The tiger and ox) are based on the oni (demons) that Momotaro had to face during his adventure, which would imply that they could be against the World Government. Oda jokingly responded, “I’m not saying a single thing about whether this theory is correct or incorrect, okay? (cold sweat)”. If this is true, I think this could serve as proof that they are either members of SWORD or even the Revolutionary Army.

2.) Kuzan / Aokiji

Kuzan, very similar to Issho, has had multiple instances where he has deviated from what Akainu refers to as “absolute justice”. For starters, he was the once responsible for allowing Nico Robin to escape from the Buster Call on Ohara by providing a small boat while also a trail of ice for her to leave safely. Another example is when he (similar to Issho) didn’t arrest Luffy because he defeated Crocodile, saving Alabasta.

However, I think a big reason why many people speculate that he may be a part of SWORD are the parallels between him and X Drake. After the timeskip, we discover that after losing the Fleet Admiral fight between him and Akainu, Kuzan resigned from the Marines. Afterwards, he became affiliated with the Blackbeard Pirates, just like how Drake resigned and created the Drake Pirates. I will say, that these similarities give just as many reasons as why he would be a SWORD member as for why he isn’t. It’s possible these stories are too alike for Oda to tie them to the same cause. However, it is possible that the SWORD initiative is all about going undercover as pirates. But if that was true, then why is Koby not undercover? Just food for thought.

3.) Smoker & Tashigi

If we were to make a list of likeable Marines, Smoker would probably slotted right behind Koby. From the moment he comforted that crying little girl in Loguetown, he gained a lot of fan-fare. I think a lot of people hope that Smoker is a member of SWORD. Like the previous two Admirals above, he has had his fair share of compromising the Marines’ belief in “absolute justice” in order to do the right thing. In fact, out of all of the Marines mentioned on this list, he has done this the most. All of those moments have served as an example of his character. Outside of that, I think it is interesting that Smoker decided to request transfer to G-5 at the beginning of the timeskip, a place known for having difficulties. I think it is definitely possible Smoker is a member.

4.) Rosinante

Very similar to Kuzan and Drake, Rosinante placed himself undercover in order to stop his brother, Doflamingo. It is very possible that this was a very early SWORD mission. Or it could have what led to the creation of SWORD.

6.) Sengoku & 7.) Monkey D. Garp

Like Smoker and Tashigi, these last two are an example of ‘we like them, so we want them to be a part of this good organization’.

Honestly, I have tried to wrap my mind around why the heck Garp is even still involved with the Marines. The only other ‘D.’-bearer we know that was in the Marines, was Jaguar D. Saul, who ended up defecting in order to save Nico Robin during the Ohara Incident. If Garp is not a member of this shadow organization, then there is a deeper reason for why he joined the Marines and stayed.

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angstymdzsthoughts · 4 years

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wangxian loveless au where during that one drunken night wwx and lwj slept together and wwx didnt come out of the situation unscathed. he began having nauseous bouts and experiencing fatigue and after a couple months his stomach grew bigger. he's absolutely terrified bc not only are he and lan zhan just 16 and 17, he would absolutely bring shame to yunmeng jiang if people knew their lead disciple got pregnant out of wedlock like some common whore.

if there is anything more strange than ruckus in the cloud recesses, it is wei wuxian being silent and obedient. it has been a couple months since something just changed in wei wuxian like a switch being flipped and he just.. stopped being a troublemaker. he stopped talking back to the lan teachers, stopped sneaking out at night, stopped nipping at lan wangji's heels and giving jiang cheng headaches. instead he gives jc a different kind of headache with how skittish and mousy he acts. wwx still does well in his studies and sword practice, but he's a lot less reckless, a lot less free, a lot less wei wuxian, and jiang cheng can already feel his a-jie and father's disappointment weighing on his shoulders.

wwx uses talismans after talismans to conceal his growing bulge and with the thick winter robes, no one suspected a thing. he just has to be a lot more careful and avoid the healers at all costs, lest they find out about his secret. instead of going out and hunting pheasants, he spends his free time reading huaisang's romantic novels and keeps a sketch book filled with his everyday paintings. lan qiren is equal parts content, intrigued, and horrified. if his teachers couldn't manage to keep changse still, what had he done so terribly wrong to make the boy change so abruptly?

lan wangji got his peaceful silence back. wei wuxian had been mildly entertaining for a while, but now that he's gotten bored of getting rebuffed, he had stopped and lan wangji didn't miss it too much. lan xichen is a little disappointed that wei wuxian didnt manage to crack down wangji's walls, but it would be unfair to expect the boy to do so for him.

before they knew it, the snow is thick in the cloud recesses and the disciples were let to retire earlier in the evening. their study would soon end when the frost melts. wwx slipped out of his room when he felt the contractions coming. the moon hung high, its light illuminating the serene white and lan xichen went on his night patrol shift as usual. he was walking on one of the watch towers when his tranquil was broken by a muffled shriek of pain.

wei ying stumbled into an empty room, doubling in pain and hurriedly put on silencing talismans. the pain and pressure seemed to last forever and when its over, a shrill cry brought much anticipated relief.

wei wuxian picked the baby- his baby- off the floor, shielded only by his hastily discarded outer robe from the cold wooden floor. the baby is laid on his chest, blood and slime staining his white robes but wei wuxian doesn't see anything past the scrunched little face and he couldn't believe he had ever thought of getting rid of this being in his arms. he only got a short tender moment before the door slammed open and to his horror, zewu-jun staring at him with mirrored terror on his face.

lan xichen followed the sounds and found himself in front of an empty classroom. the door pulsed with spiritual energy and he could tell the silencing talisman put on was only half installed. he raised his hand to knock and- is that a baby's cry? his hand moved itself and slammed the door open. "wei gongzi?!" wei wuxian laid on the floor, the bottom of his robes open and in his hold is a tiny wailing baby still connected to him through the umbilical cord.

"ze-zewu-jun, i-" wei wuxian clutched the baby tighter to his chest, as if afraid lan xichen is going to take him away. "please let me help you," the older interrupted, shuffling in to begin helping wei wuxian. he took out spare cloths from his qiankun pouch and wrapped them around the boy and his baby. wei wuxian couldn't look at lan xichen. no wonder he has been laying low, if he's keeping such a secret.

poor boy, did someone force him? is that why he had to hide? "wei gongzi, are you-" his hand accidentally brushed over the meridian on the child's head and felt a familiar signature. the baby is a lan. wei wuxian's eyes goes wider if that was possible. lan xichen tugged slightly to reveal the baby's face. his tiny golden eyes are open and all xichen could see was wangji's childhood face. wangji's son, oh god wei wuxian gave birth to wangji's son.

but how did wangji ever- it can't be- wangji drunkenly bedded wei wuxian and now he has a son! lan xichen trembled and stood. "zewu-jun?" the first jade just ran, but not before slapping on a silencing and locking talisman on the room. "zewu-jun, i can explain!"

class was cancelled the next day. not with lan qiren so close to a qi deviation with the news from xichen that wangji has a son, just born last night and by a guest disciple, no less! he sent wei wuxian along with his baby into seclusion, telling jiang cheng that his shixiong sneaked out again and will be put into solitary for a few days. immediate invitation was sent to jiang fengmian and yu ziyuan, insisting that it is urgent that both of them come.

lan wangji stands in front of the room wei wuxian is detained in. he had been content with uncle and brother as family. it never crossed his mind that he would get married or have a child- much less with wei wuxian. but the boy is in this room right now, with a child that is his. his son. he should come in- should at least see the child. he should take responsibility, even if he didn't mean to. he shouldn't push his son onto someone else, he shouldn't-

"lan zhan? is that you?" wei wuxian's voice sounded nervous. he probably saw lan wangji's shadow in front of his door. "i- can i come in?" lan wangji replied hesitantly. "please do," he answered.

lan wangji opened the door and stood face to face with wei wuxian, whose usual mischievous expression is replaced entirely with one full of worry and guilt. "lan z-, lan wangji, i'm sorry," he started.

the second jade didn't know what to answer and they stood in silence. "i'm here to see the baby," he began, cursing himself for sounding colder than he intended. "of course.." wei wuxian led him inside, to his bed where the sleeping baby is swathed in thick white blankets provided by zewu-jun.

wangji does see himself in the baby, and for a split second he hated it more than anything. "what is his name?"

wei wuxian doesn't answer. "wei- wei ying?" he was instead staring at the baby. "oh- i'm sorry. what did you say?"

"his name?"

"baobao doesn't have a name yet. i don't know.."

-------

yu ziyuan's face is red with anger. behind her jiang fengmian is filled with worry. of course that no good son of a servant will churn yet another trouble that will bring smear to the yunmeng jiang name all because jiang fengmian has always been too useless and too soft to discipline him properly. lan qiren and lan xichen was already waiting for them.

"sect leader lan, zewu-jun," she greeted them.

"madam yu, sect leader jiang," lan xichen bowed back. "please come inside. we have.. important matter to discuss,"

she notices the silence talisman plastered wall to wall in the meeting room and she could only wonder what had happened for the lans to need such discretion. the tension between them was so thick it could be cut with a knife. "what has that brat done now? i swear if he continues to be unruly i will whip him with zidian until he repents," yu ziyuan started.

lan qiren chokes on his tea a little bit. "that would be unnecessary, madam yu," xichen winced, " i believe it would be highly inappropriate to subject him to corporal punishments considering his.. delicate condition right now,"

"delicate..? is a-xian sick? is that why you called us here? then- can we see him now?" of course jiang fengmian would worry about that useless boy first before he ever thinks about her son. "shut it, jiang fengmian!" yu ziyuan barked. "i bet you he just fell from the mountain and broke his bones while sneaking out to do god knows what! this is the boy you keep spoiling! that good for nothing son of a servant!"

lan qiren and lan xichen both shriveled in their seats at her tone. what happened to wei wuxian was much, much worse. "madam yu," lan xichen tried. "wei wuxian.. gave birth to a son two nights ago,"

yu ziyuan's face flashed an angry shade of red, then white, and then green before she shred the table in front of her into splinters. "he.. gave birth?"

lan xichen solemnly nodded.

the chuckle that left her mouth terrified everyone in that room. lan qiren tried his best to not vomit blood. "don't tell me, that boy now has a kid.. like some whore?"

lan qiren looked at jiang fengmian. the man's face was paper white and tongue-tied. he pitied him, having to bear the brunt of yu ziyuan's wrath on top having to process this information.

"does he even know who the father is? or did he sleep with everyone in gusu?"

"third madam!"

lan xichen looked like he is going to start crying, so lan qiren chimed in.

"the father is wangji,"

the negotiation was dreadful. jiang fengmian tried to get wei wuxian and his baby to go back to lotus pier. yu ziyuan refused to bring that disgrace back to lotus pier. lan qiren insisted that wei wuxian and lan wangji must marry, now that their child is the third heir to gusu lan. news will be let out that the lead disciple of yunmeng jiang and the second young master of lan had been engaged for a while and will soon marry. their altercations during the length of the study had just been because they had an ongoing squabble. the child will be announced one year after his actual birth.

lan wangji chose the name lan yuan for his son, which his uncle and brother approved. wei wuxian's heart fell that they never asked for his opinion on the name.

wei wuxian had to go back to yunmeng jiang when the disciples disperse after their year's study. he couldn't bring baobao to lotus pier without alerting everyone and wei wuxian never cried harder than when he had to part with his baby for the first time. even jiang cheng couldn't console him. he endured the torture for two months. two torturous months without his baby where madam yu only spoke in a cold tone and his shijie's soup no longer comforted him. the last two months yunmeng jiang would ever be his home.

the expensive red robes hang heavy on him. everyone congratulated him on his marriage but all wei wuxian felt is cold. he couldn't look at lan wangji without knowing that he forced the second jade to a marriage he didn't want. lan wangji couldn't look at wei wuxian without wondering what if it had been someone else, someone he had consented to marry. they live in the jingshi, but sleep in different bedrooms. their interactions are polite at best. wei wuxian spends his time cultivating and inventing talismans while raising his son, and lan wangji spends his time cultivating and attending to sect duties.

lan yuan grows to be a smart and strong disciple who excels among his peers. no wonder, people say, his parents are two of the most powerful cultivators of their generation. lan xichen replies to comments of 'lan yuan looks so grown up already' with 'my nephew is tall for his age'. he will no doubt become a fine sect leader one day, people say.

lan wangji and wei wuxian are married, everyone knows that, but they never act like they are. they act like parents to their son, but never like spouses to each other. gusu lan's no gossipping rule never stopped people from talking. lan yuan knows that he is older than his classmates. lan yuan knows why he barely ever see his parents together. he knows they love him, of course, but they don't love each other.

poor lan yuan, people say, trapped in his parents' loveless marriage.

lan yuan knows that he is trapped between a father whose anger kept simmering at having to marry someone he didn't want and a mother who felt like his marriage was a mistake.

#i hope this is horrible enough #please ignore the other two before this #submission #Wei Wuxian #Lan Wangji #Mpreg #arranged marriage #mdzs #loveless au

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rakimaiirisa · 3 years

Text

The jungle of the inn keepers door bell caught Thoralds attention and he looked up from his mead hopefully. A woman stood in the doorway, an unsure look on her face as she peered into the dimly lit inn. Remembering the description his employer gave, Thorald jumped to his feet and hurried to her, extending a hand in welcome. "Are you Arisa Bear-Tooth?" He asked and the woman nodded. "In the flesh" she said cheerfully.

He led her to the table he had occupied earlier and called for the serving girl to bring him two tankards of hunningbrew mead. Taking a deep swig of her drink, Arisa sighed happily.

"It's been awhile since I had some good mead. But let's get to business..Why did you want to interview me?" She asked.

Thorald nodded, "You're the dragonborn, the one the Greybeards called for, m’lady. The people of Skyrim want to know more about you and my employer, The Black Horse courier,wants to be the one to tell your story. Please allow me to be the one to tell it"

Arisa looked down at her tankard for a moment then took a deep breath. " Alright. But if your expecting tales of daring adventure, you're going to be disappointed.."

He shook his head, "I just want your take on things, m’lady, Nothing more. " She smiled at him and he noticed the amusement in her eyes. "You can call me Arisa, m’lady is so formal." she said. He nodded slowly. "Ok then.. Arisa, let's get started." He pulled out a leather bound journal and pheasant quill out of his bag. Placing them on the table, he readied himself to write.

1. What is your full name?

"Arisa laenhal Bear-Tooth."

2. "Do you know why you named that?"

"My father and mother fell in love with the name. Had I been a boy, my father wouldve given me a Nordic name, since I tend to look like my mothers race more. (Noting his confusion, she shrugged.) I am half nord/half mer. I look like my mother more then my father, Tho there are some traits he passed along.(she pulled back her hair and Thorald noticed her pointed ears from her mer ancestry) . My middle name is in honor of my bosmer grandmother. I've never met her tho. She passed before my birth. As for my surname, myfather insisted that I take my mothers. He said he didn't want me to suffer the prejudice he faced, especially when dealing with my mothers people."

3. "Are you single or taken?"

Looking down at her mead, she sighed. "Single and I'm only interested in one person. And I don't want discuss who it is."

The jingle of the door bell made them look up. A tall lean dark haired nord with messy circular black war paint around his eyes stood in the doorway. He glanced at them then walked to the bar, the innkeeper Hulda, greeting him fondly. Thorald recognized him, one of the companion's from Jorvaskkr. As he turned back to Arisa, he noted the wistful look on her face. Could this be the person she was talking about earlier? Maybe this could be in a future story! He mentally rejoiced at the thought.

4. "Have any powers or abilities?"

"Since I'm the dragonborn, I can shout like the dragons, without needing training to use the Thuum . I'm very good with destruction and conjuration spells. And according to Eyorland Grey-mane, I'm not bad at working the forge.

5. (Taking a chance)."Stop being a Mary sue. Give me the details, Arisa. "

"You might want to not ask me in that tone or consider the interview over." He apologized, noting the hard look in her eyes and inwardly cringing. Don't blow this,you idiot! You might never get another chance to ask her anything again. he thought.

6.,"whats your eye color?"

" blue."

7. "Hair color? "

"Dark brown."

8. "Have any family members? "

"My father, Rilgor NightSky and my mother, Elena Bear-Tooth. I am a only child.

9." Oh, how bout pets?"

"I have my horse, Stepper. He's a good horse, very reliable and runs like the wind when I need him too."

10. Moving on to something different, Are there things you don't like?"

Laughing , she said " Spiders and Draugr overlords. Been poisoned and blown off my feet too many times to count."

11. "Do you have any activities or hobbies you like to do?"

"Tinkering with the dwemer automatons I find, I also like to try to create new spells. My attempts have been a hit or miss so far."

12." Have you hurt anyone on purpose before? "

"I've tried not to."

13. "Ever…killed anyone before? "

Not if they didn't deserve it.

14. "What kind of animal are you? "

(She grinned and Thorald noticed that her canines seemed a bit longer then normal.) "What do you think?" . "How bout we skip that question?" He said hastily. He didn't want to know.

15. " Name your bad habits?"

(She shrugged.) Procrastinating is one thing I can think of. And blowing my money on things I enjoy. That wouldnt be a problem but I tend to overspend and then I find myself broke until the next job comes along..

16. "Do you look up to anyone at all?"

I have great respect for my shield brothers and sisters of Jorvaskkr. I have learned a lot from them.

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

I enjoy men and women.

18. Do you go to school?

I study with Vignar Grey-mane and Vilkas. They are teaching me the history of tamriel. Vilkas is also trying to teach me how to handle the transactions for the guild. (She frowns slightly) That's not going so well to be honest.

19. "Do you ever want to be married and have children?"

"I don't know...I would like to get married but children? I'm hardly ever home so I'm not sure. I guess it just depends.

20. "Do you have any fanboys or girls? "

I'm not sure.

21. What are you most afraid of?

Hmmm.. I guess letting life pass me by.... And losing people who are precious to me.

22. "What do you usually wear?

Depends on the weather, but I prefer light clothing and armor.

23.whats one food that tempts you?

Snowberry Crostata. Tilma makes the best but Huldas isn't that bad either.

24. "Am I annoying to you? "

(Shrugs) I've dealt with worse.

25. "Well, it's not over.! "

(Another shrug) it's fine.

26.what class are you(low/middle/high?"

When I was with my parents, I was, considered middle. Living in whiterun.. I guess you could say im still middle. I own breezehome and im still able to provide for myself.

27.

"How many friends do you have? "

Im friendly with the whiterun citizens and I can count on my shield brothers and sisters to back me up so quite a few.

28.

"What are your thoughts on pie? "

The only pie sold in whiterun is apple and I am just not a fan of it. Sometimes Hulda will give me one for helping her cut firewood bithe I just give it to Farkas or Vilkas when I see them.

30.

"Favorite drink?"

It's some brew Farkas made. He's calls it the sabrecat stunner. It's really strong but man, so good.

31.

"Whats your favorite place?"

Hmmm.. I have to say Jorvaskkr. It's noisy but there's something comforting about it. Plus, Tilma is a great cook!

#skyrim #arisa #oc asks #oc prompts #been in my drafts forever

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argent-vulpine · 3 years

Text

It’s Only a Little Bit

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Claude/F!Byleth

Read it on AO3

Their new professor was very difficult to read. Her apparent lack of expression, somewhat monotonous way of speaking, and overall mannerisms led many to believe that she didn’t really feel… anything. That this must be related to her moniker of ‘Ashen Demon’. But after several weeks of watching his new professor, Claude could say at least one thing for certain: Teach did not like to share her food.

She would take her meals in the dining hall, often sharing space with students from all the houses, and while she didn’t turn down meals with Edelgard and Dimitri, she took meals with them less than she did any with Claude, though he attributed that to being the house leader under her direct supervision. Not one for small talk, she often sat and ate in silence while her dining companions chatted around her.

He wondered if she was simply gathering information on everyone the same sort of way that he did.

Claude discovered his new favorite fact about the professor quite accidentally. He’d been sitting with Hilda and Lysithea, discussing their latest skirmish and how things could have gone differently, when he saw Jeralt join his daughter at the table, Leonie in tow.

He couldn’t hear what was being said, but it was easy enough to guess. Leonie had gestured at the food, her head tilted in that way that typically indicated inquisitive confusion. Jeralt’s laugh was loud enough to be heard several tables over; he’d reached out with a fork to his daughter’s plate, clearly intending to spear a piece of fish on it, when the professor had blocked him with her own fork.

This went on for a few bouts, the Blade Breaker himself trying to steal a piece of food from the professor, before she gave the most annoyed look Claude had ever seen on her face. “Get your own, dad,” she’d said, loudly enough to be distinct, before picking up her plate and moving to another table, settling down beside Yuri, who gave her a bemused expression before resuming his own meal.

It took a few more weeks of watching – and testing – for Claude to learn that the professor only minded sharing meals when they were things she really liked. Daphnel Stew? No one could touch it. That vegetable pasta salad monstrosity? If someone wanted a bite of that, Byleth had no issues sharing it. She’d gone so far as to push the whole plate at people who asked, before, such seemed to be her dislike of it.

Over time, he figured he had a solid idea of her general food preferences, what she liked the most, what she disliked.

He hadn’t learned a whole lot else about his professor, but at least he had that.

“Heya Teach,” he said, plopping himself down beside her, a plate full of skewered meat in hand. It was a dish he knew that she liked; it was one he liked, as well, so he couldn’t fault her there. “I had some questions about your last assignment, if you don’t mind me picking your brain about them over dinner?”

“I don’t mind,” she said, taking a bite of the pickled rabbit.

This close to her, he could see the way her face softened – just the tiniest bit – with enjoyment. It was… oddly cute, in a way.

He tried a bite of his own, giving a soft hum of approval, before he launched into his questions. He knew she probably was aware it was more information gathering on his part, since some of his questions were about if she’d ever used these tactics before herself, but he was genuinely interested in the battle formations she’d brought up during their lesson, wanting to know the finer details as to why certain ones did better than others.

She would answer him between bites of food, at one point even using a now-empty skewer to sketch out a formation, the movement of the sharp tip drawing his eye and helping him to better visualize what she was talking about.

“Oh, I see now!” He was about to ask another question when he saw Hilda hovering at the edge of the dining hall, looking at him and waving him over urgently. “Looks like duty calls.” Claude glanced down at his plate, a lone skewer remaining untouched. “Say, Teach, do you want this? I don’t think I’m going to have a chance to finish it.”

He didn’t miss the way her eyes honed in on the skewer, or the hesitation when she almost reached out to grab it. “Are you sure? I can watch it until you can get back.”

“Nah, I have a feeling this is gonna take a while. Go for it,” he replied, nudging the plate over her way. Just a smidge.

As he was leaving, he glanced back and saw her pause over the skewer before taking it and adding it to her plate. He was pretty sure it didn’t last much longer.

It was a sure sign of her grief when, after Jeralt’s death, she shoved her bowl of stew at him and left the dining hall, not having had a single bite.

Claude couldn’t bring himself to eat it, instead passing it off to Raphael, who had no problems inhaling what was probably his third serving that evening.

He tried not to think about what it might mean, that she’d given it to him instead of just walking away.

After five years, he’d almost forgotten about the way Byleth treated her food, the fact that she didn’t share her favorite dishes with, well… anyone. They sat across from each other, each with a bowl of Daphnel Stew, and discussed their next move. Claude was nearly done with his, pushing the spoon around to find another piece of onion, when a spoon appeared in his field of vision, dumping a few into his bowl.

He looked up in time to see Byleth giving him a soft smile, one that quickly disappeared as she scooped up another bite of her stew, happily chewing away at the minced meat.

As the war progressed, little instances like that became more common. An extra forkful of pike when he’d devoured all of his, a bit of spiced pheasant and egg, extra cheese from the Gautier gratin.

After a while, he started returning the favor. An extra bit of meat from a Gronder skewer, a spoonful of minced poultry from his stew, egg scrambles and whatever else he knew she liked but had never said outright was her favorite part of the dishes.

It became a habit, after a while, getting the same meal from the dining hall and exchanging for favorite bits from each other’s dishes. He hadn’t even really noticed it had become a thing until Hilda commented on it.

“Sooooo…” she began, drawing the word out in a way that made him cringe. “What’s going on between you and the professor?” Her tone was all sugary-sweet innocence.

He didn’t believe that tone for even a second. “What do you mean?”

“You’re sharing meals, Leader Man.”

“We always share meals, Hilda. Teach and I do some of our best strategizing over dinner.”

“That’s not what I mean! The food itself. The professor never shares dishes she likes, not with anyone! We all know that.”

He paused, looking up from the papers on the desk, and frowned. “She doesn’t like to share her favorite bits,” he finally muttered, so quiet Hilda almost didn’t hear him.

Almost.

She gave a shrill, excited shriek, making him wince. “That’s not true! She would never share any of it with anyone but you!” The grin on her face was so big and bright he almost wondered if he could use it as an offensive tactic. “Are you two dating finally? Is that what’s going on? Ooh, I have gotto tell Marianne, she’ll never believe you finally did it!”

“Wha-… that’s not… no! We’re not… there’s nothing going on…” Claude spluttered, half-standing, cheeks blazing with heat.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that…” Hilda crossed her arms in front of her, tapping her fingers in thought. “So you aren’t dating? You should. She clearly likes you, too.”

And without giving him a chance to say anything to the contrary, she left the room, bouncing on her feet and clearly ready to share what she thought was a juicy bit of gossip.

He fell back into his seat with a thump and buried his head in his hands, groaning softly. Was he really that obvious?

Was Byleth really that obvious? How had he missed that sign?

Claude straightened up, one hand curling into a fist as he resolved to figure it out.

He waited to see what dish she chose that evening; he knew that the night’s menu held more than one that they both liked. When she walked off with a plate of the pickled rabbit skewers, he opted for the pike, and then joined her at the table, as usual.

She glanced down at his plate, a momentary look of confusion gracing her features before it vanished as quickly as all her expressions seemed to.

“Hey Teach. Oh, man, those skewers look good,” he said, settling comfortably into his seat. “But the pike just smelled too good to pass up. Shame they won’t let us get two plates at a time… though if they did, I’m sure Raph would eat us all out of the monastery.” He paused, considering. “Well, I don’t think I could eat that much in one sitting anyway, honestly.”

“It was a difficult decision,” she finally settled on saying, picking up one of her skewers and nibbling thoughtfully on the meat. “Maybe…”

“Hm? Maybe what?” he asked around a bite of fish.

“Oh, uh… I was just thinking maybe we could swap. Midway through. If you wanted?”

Claude tried his best to hide his smirk behind the rim of his glass as he took a drink, for all the world looking like he was taking his time considering the offer. “Sure. Then we’d get the best of both worlds, right?”

She gave him a small smile. “Something like that.”

The topic turned to their usual, plans for the next battle, and what was after that, assuming they won. When each of their plates were half-eaten, they exchanged them, not breaking their conversation. Deep down, Claude felt a rush of surprise and… optimism. A cautious sprig of hope began to bloom.

Whatever had happened, whatever was between them, that one moment led to a change to their routine that he’d never in a million years could have expected. They began to coordinate dinners, each choosing a dish that they would swap halfway through.

He could almost feel Hilda’s gloating. She was never going to let him live this down, but…

If everything worked out in the end, it was so worth it.

Many, many months later, at the wedding of Queen Byleth of Fódlan to King Khalid of Almyra, their closest friends shared knowing grins when the happy couple chose their favorite bits of the wedding feast and fed each other.

#sharing is caring #food sharing #Claudeleth #Claude von Riegan #Byleth Eisner #female Byleth #war phase #academy phase #Fire Emblem #Fire Emblem Three Houses #FE3H #Golden Deer

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