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garbagevanfleet · 3 years

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Brightest Blue (series)

PART FIFTEEN (final chapter)

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings: 18+ ONLY, sexual content, alcohol, feelings Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: What an odd feeling this is. I love writing fics, but when you work so long and hard on something, it’s hard to let it go. I’m really pleased with how it turned out though, and I’m so incredibly grateful to everyone that read it and interacted with it. A big thank you to my editor, @lantern-inthenight for sticking with me through it, and thank you again to everyone on my taglist.

MASTERPOST

taglist: @valleyd0ll @satingrass-maidensfair @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @peaceisouranthem @oblvions @hansonobsessed @myownparadise96 @anditsmywholeheart @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies @bigblack-catattack @dharma-divine

There was a plant in the Kiszka house that you couldn’t stop looking at - you found yourself making your way to the kitchen, just so you could peek in on it. It was a Christmas cactus placed on the south-facing window sill above the sink, spilling out of the sides of its terra cotta pot in long tendrils.

Shapely, dark green, and perfectly healthy - it was the perfect metaphor for the household that loved it. The fuchsia pink buds on the tips of every trailing vine were promising to open every day since you’d arrived, and - perfectly on queue - the first one opened on Christmas Eve. It had been tightly closed when you greeted it in the morning as you sipped your cup of coffee, but by the time the family was snacking on a veggie tray and cocktail weenies at lunchtime, it was fully open, facing the floor in a way that reminded you of a ballerina’s tutu.

“You like this thing, huh?” Josh had asked, audible to just you over the lively conversation and music filling the kitchen and dining room. He was standing closely behind your right shoulder, charmingly trying to get the same view of the cactus that you were - as if that could help him appreciate it better.

“Isn’t it lovely?” you replied, turning your head and realizing at the same time that you could kiss his cheek if you leaned in closer. The two of you shared a lingering look that you put an end to just before you could start feeling physically warm.

He hummed in consideration after a moment. “It’s pretty,” he agreed and then smiled weakly. “It kinda just looks like another plant to me though, if I’m being honest.”

You turned to face him then, giving him a warm look. “There’s a lot of beauty to be found in things that other people don’t know to consider. It gives you kind of a selfish satisfaction.”

The slightly suggestive tone you’d taken put a puzzled smile on his face. He gave you a look that somehow perfectly let you know that he’d be back to pry at the deeper meaning of this conversation later when you were alone.

“We got this for Christmas for my mom one year when we were little kids. Sam and Ronnie liked the color.” He smiled at it past your shoulder. “It used to be so tiny.”

It certainly wasn’t anymore. As a matter of fact, it was currently threatening to take over the whole sill - swallow up the little knick-knacks peppered around it.

“It’s really happy,” you agreed.

+++

Dinner that night was photo-worthy. Laid out on the table were dishes upon dishes of different comfort foods, each with its own oversized serving spoon. Jake had been trying to make homemade bread through the entirety of your time there - the first night was his very first time making it and it was a little raw, then the next night it seemed a little hard, then the next it looked a little overcooked and dense. Tonight, however, it looked worthy of a cooking magazine cover.

PERFECT BREAD ON THE SIXTH TRY! it would read triumphantly.

No one had a claim on any of the specific spots at the dining table, so it was free game - which was how you were able to finagle your way into sitting between Jake and Sam for that evening’s meal. You liked them a lot, for the record, but you had been thinking a lot about your earlier interaction with Josh, and that was the reason for your chosen position.

You wanted to stare at him without arousing suspicion - or rather, any more suspicion than was already present amongst the six of you.

He had given you a questioning look as he sat directly across the table from you, scooting his chair in until he could rest his elbows on the wood. You offered him a reassuring smile as you settled in, but secretly you reveling in the fact it’d seem awfully non-platonic if he questioned your choice out loud.

While you ate, he only caught you looking at him once, to which he responded by playfully poking his tongue out at you. Otherwise, you listened intently to a story that Sam was telling you about a fated time he found a designer jacket in a truck stop bathroom and it fit perfectly. You also chatted lightly with Jake - who was sitting to your right - about each of your classes and he graciously listened to you gripe at length about the weather and its lack of consistency, which was obviously very kind of him.

When dinner was over, the family changed into their pajamas before meeting in the living room with their wine to sit around the tree and open one present each of their choosing. It went around in a circle, starting with Josh who received a new cutting board and a set of knives that his mom jokingly assured him he couldn’t have until he was ready to go back to Ann Arbor. You were unabashedly visibly excited to be able to use a knife that could cut without having to use a sawing motion.

Jake had unknowingly chosen to open the present you got for him, which was a leather-bound journal and fountain pen that cost more than you wanted to admit but after you saw it at the store, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You had felt incredibly cool while purchasing it, so in a way, it was kind of a gift for you too.

The gift you opened was a wool sweater from Josh’s parents and when you lovingly clutched the forest green fabric to your chest, it was a genuine gesture. You reminded them that they didn’t have to get you anything, but thanked them profusely when they informed you that you were being silly.

After the designated presents were opened, warm conversation was had as the Rudolph Christmas movie played quietly in the background. It was one of your holiday favorites though, so you probably paid more attention to it than the rest of the family.

Once 10 pm hit, there was a sharp rise in the frequency of yawns, and shortly after that people started turning in, one by one. Everyone was wished a good night, knowing that when they woke up again, it would be Christmas.

After Jake turned in around 11:30, you and Josh were the last ones standing - or sitting rather.

You were sitting next to each other on the sofa, about a foot apart because despite Jake having been privy to your relationship, it was just good practice when any member of his family was around.

As soon as Jake’s bedroom door was closed, Josh seemed to visibly relax his muscles, though his fingers still fidgeted with his jeans every few moments.

“Are you liking being home?” you asked and then took a sip of wine, already knowing what he was going to say.

He gave you a low, pained-sounding hum through a grimacing smile. “We should have just told my family what the nature of our relationship was - I don’t think I can handle not touching you much longer.”

“M’kay, couple things to address here,” you started through an amused smirk. “You were able to handle not touching me for months - I think you can handle literally one and a half more days. And two-”

He cut you off with a finger against your lips. “Yeah, but had I known you wanted me to, it would have made a lot of difference.”

You pressed a kiss to the digit before he quickly pulled it away with an accusatory squint in his eye.

“And secondly,” you tried again pointedly. “What would you have told them? ‘Hey guys, I have very very fuzzy boundaries with my roommate and that often results in us sleeping together, both literally and as a euphemism’?”

He shot you a teasing smirk. “Cute. You’re very cute,” he said sarcastically.

After a very long, comfortable silence, you spoke again, voice low and hushed. “So, can I scoot closer to you now?”

He looked over at you from out of the corner of his eye, still holding that smirk. “Please do.”

You shuffled until your thigh was touching his.

Of course, you had missed it right away, but you hadn’t really realized how much you’d missed being physically close to him until you caught the now-familiar scent of his cologne.

Another comfortable silence fell upon the room, quiet enough that all you could hear was the quiet crackling of the logs in the stone fireplace.

“Can I kiss you too?” you asked, looking over at him through the sheer curtain of your hair.

He looked like he was truly mulling it over as his eyes flicked down the hall to his siblings’ rooms, and then across the living room and up the set of stairs to his parents’ room. After a second, he let out a huff and said, “Fuck it.”

He reached over and tugged on your various limbs until you were sitting in his lap, face to face.

It had been so forbidden to you up until then, that when he leaned in and caught your lips, you let out a groan under your breath.

“I missed you,” he breathed, almost directly against your mouth. “I love knowing you in any aspect, but I’ve been burning for this.”

It made the heat rise to your cheeks, as well as your lap - but you couldn’t let him know he’d turned you on so easily, so you replied breathily with, “That’s an awfully fancy way of telling me you’re horny, babe.”

He was biting back a laugh for a split second before, grabbing your hips a little tighter to gain back what dominance you had borrowed from him with your teasing.

You pressed your luck. “Really, very eloquent.”

A look of contemplation flashed over his features as he was obviously deciding what to do next. He lifted you with little effort and then pressed you firmly backward until your shoulders hit the seat of the couch. Then he crawled over you and stared down into your eyes triumphantly.

“Aren’t you worried about someone coming out here?” you challenged through a grin.

He leaned in until he could drag his teeth across your cheekbone, making your skin prickle. “I don’t care anymore,” he replied, and then - in a show of brutal honesty - pressed his crotch against your hip and ground down just enough to show you how hard he was.

Your breath caught in your throat, and involuntarily, you bucked up against him.

You kissed him so forcefully that it was almost more like just mashing your mouths together for a long moment. His hand slipped down between your bodies until his fingers brushed over your navel, the ticklish feeling making the muscles jump under the touch. It was the anticipation of his next move that fucked you up the most.

He was dragging his fingers lower, just about to dip under the band of your pajama pants when he seemed to have a moment of clarity and pulled his hand away altogether. You frowned at him, pushing your hips up to meet his hand instead, to which he responded by placing his palm on your stomach and pressing you back down with a laugh.

“Let’s go to my room,” he suggested.

“No, wait.” You gave him the softest eyes you could. “It’s so romantic out here right now - the lights on the tree, the fire, the soft couch. Would you just kiss me here for a bit?”

The look on his face could only be described as enamored. He stared at your face for a few long seconds before you finally asked if he was alright.

“I’m lucky to have you.”

He said it under his breath, so sincerely and honestly, that you weren’t sure how to respond until you could catch up with your thoughts. You cupped his jaw in your right palm, raking your fingers through his hair and he careened your touch in a way that had you feeling like a melting scoop of ice cream.

“You know, I sometimes think about how poorly the whole ‘moving across the country to a place you’ve never been for school’ thing could have gone. There were so many variables that had to click into place, and somehow I still ended up living with a person that,” You paused to brush your thumb against his cheekbone, hoping to portray your meaning through your touch. “Might be a literal angel.”

He raked his front teeth over his bottom lip subconsciously as he consumed the compliment. You could see his brain chewing it over as he snickered a laugh.

“Though, I think angels are supposed to deliver good tidings and not black eyes,” you teased.

You couldn’t name the look he adopted then, but it seemed somewhere between solemn and proud reminiscence. The frown forming on your features was not lost on him, and you quickly spoke before he could change the subject.

“What’s wrong?”

He hummed and met your eyes. “I never wanted you to find out about that,” he said like an admission.

“What do you mean?”

“There were a lot of things I did to get your attention, but that was completely reactionary. I’ve never been a violent person - well, to anyone but my siblings anyway-”

You huffed a laugh at him but nodded for him to continue.

“You were right,” He met your eyes with an intense sincerity. “I am a lover. Not a fighter.”

“I know,” you whispered as you brushed a stray curl from his forehead. “But you must have known I would find out, right?”

“I wasn’t thinking about that at the time, but yeah - in retrospect - of course, you’d find out. But I did it. I sought him out and it just-” He bit his lip for a second to take a pause. “I saw him and all I could think about was you crying on my shoulder that night.”

You didn’t say anything. You just let him gather his thoughts as the crackling of the fire served as a placeholder in his silence.

“He’s lucky he only got a black eye because I wanted to kill him for touching you.”

It was clear after a moment that he was waiting for you to respond, possibly even hoping for validation at such a vulnerable moment.

“If I’m being honest, Josh, I still can’t believe you could do that - I can’t even imagine you yelling at someone in a way that was anywhere near serious.”

He stared at you for a few long beats, and you watched the reflection of the Christmas lights twinkle like stars speckled over the dark canvas of his eyes.

“Yeah, well,” he started, just above a whisper. His brows were tipped into a look of contemplation - the spacing of his words making you think that he wasn’t sure how to proceed. “You do crazy things to protect the people you love.”

It wasn’t voluntary in any way when your breathing stopped, it just happened - like your lungs were locked up for a few long seconds as you waited for one of you to say something.

“You’re my best friend,” he said like a confession, looking more serious than you’d ever seen him. “And I love you.”

Undeniably, your face was peachy pink - you could feel it tingling warm. You weren’t sure what to do with your hands, but you knew you wanted to touch him. His skin tightened around his jaw when you ghosted your fingers over it.

“You love me?”

He nodded at you, a small but confident motion. “You fill a lot of different positions in my life. I’m not in love with you yet - I don’t think - but I want your permission to be.”

Without wasting another second, you caught his lips in an earnest kiss, your chest feeling like it might implode. It only lasted for a moment before he was pulling you back up until you were sitting in his lap.

“Was that romantic enough for you?” he asked, trying to shade his voice with humor but it came out sounding breathless instead.

“I literally can’t imagine anything more romantic,” you agreed with a weak laugh and then teased, “Unless you proposed. You’re not going to propose, are you?”

He adopted a disbelieving smirk. “Do you want me to? I’m sure I can fashion a ring out of something. Maybe there’s a cock ring joke in there somewhere-”

You rolled your eyes playfully and cut him off with, “Please shut up and take me to bed. Right now, okay?”

He ushered you off of him with a breathy laugh before gently nudging you in the general direction of his room. “Hurry along then.”

The two of you padded quietly down the hall, shutting the door without making a peep.

The only light in his room was what you could see of the Christmas lights that framed the front door, casting a white-gold glow over the setting.

When he laid you out over the bed, it was significantly gentler than you were expecting as was the kiss he placed - first on your cheek and then your jaw and down your neck to your throat.

His hands slipped under your pajama top, tugging lighting at the buttons on it from the inside and letting his fingers make the skin across your navel tighten. Instinctively, your fingers tangled into his hair, keeping him close enough that the pointed tip of his nose was resting on your sternum. The warm humidity of his breath hitting your skin was both calming and exciting at the same time in a way you couldn’t describe if you tried. His fingers worked to undo your top with relative ease, sliding it off of your chest after.

You eyed the way his bicep flexed as he held all of his weight on it, and wrapped your fingers around it to give it a squeeze. He reacted by dragging his teeth across your breast with just enough sting to make your hips lift off the bed. The way he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth and rolled it around with his tongue made you squirm, fingers flexing into his tense skin. A tingly, warm feeling set over you as you wrapped your legs around his hips and sat up to shrug your shirt off.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” he stated simply as he ran his fingers down your bare chest.

You hummed at him through a smile, pinching his chin in your fingers and tilting his head up until he had to look you in the eyes. He gave you a grin as he bit his bottom lip and then leaned in to press a kiss against your cheek. In your heart, you knew the gesture had you blushing, but it was confirmed for you when he smugly rubbed his thumb across your cheekbone.

The chill in the room made your newly-naked skin prickle as he tossed your pajama pants to the floor, followed quickly by his own. With all of your clothing discarded into a pile, he pulled you up onto your knees, cupped both sides of your jaw with his hands, and tugged your face closer until your noses were touching. You listened to his shaky breathing for a moment before you dug your fingers into his hips, pulling him back over you as you laid out on the bed.

You knew your nails were digging into his skin - probably a little too deeply - as he pushed into you, one of his hands wrapped around your thigh to keep it hitched over his hip. This was confirmed for you when you heard him suck in a breath that sounded more like a hiss, though you got the feeling that he liked the sting of it.

Through the entirety of the time he was fucking you, he barely pulled his body away from you at all, instead opting to just rock himself against you until you were near tears. The biggest challenge was barely making a sound as you reached your peak, your face buried in the humid crook of his neck and shoulder.

You weren’t positive how much time had passed, but as you laid together, post-orgasm, you realized just how exhausted you were.

Neither of you had said a word for quite a while, so it sounded too loud when you spoke into the dark room.

“Are you going back to the living room?” you whispered.

“Nah, fuck it. I’m not going anywhere,” he replied, nuzzling the top of his nose into your hair as you laid, half on his bare chest. Just before you fell asleep you remembered the very first night you slept in his bed, and how much had changed since then - and how much had not really changed at all.

+++

You had meant to set an alarm - really. But you hadn’t gotten around to it the night before, which is why when you came stumbling out of the bedroom with Josh close behind you, you were met with a few pairs of eyes staring at you from the living room. Trying not to look like the most guilty human on earth, you ducked your head and quickly made your retreat to the bathroom. Neither of you said a word as you brushed your teeth together, sneaking playful glances at each other in the mirror.

By the time you had both showered - Josh first and then you second - and changed into your clothes for the day, it was 9:30. You both found the dining room table hosting his entire family and enough breakfast food piled on top of the worn wood to satisfy a small army.

The two spots that they saved for you were next to each other, so you settled in and tried to prepare for the most awkward meal of your life thus far.

“You almost made it to the end,” Jake quipped, apparently happy as hell to deliver the first blow.

You watched Josh’s eyes flick up at him, delivering him a chilly look.

“Okay, it wasn’t really a secret before, but it’s definitely not anymore,” Jake finished, rolling his eyes as the bowl of scrambled eggs was passed to him.

Josh poured himself a glass of orange juice and then gestured for your glass too. “If I were in the living room last night, Santa wouldn’t have come. Really, you have me to thank for the gifts you receive today.” He finished filling your glass and set the carton back down before continuing. “And I’ll take that thank you in the form of you shutting up and minding your own business.”

Jake snorted a laugh as he dished himself out some breakfast. He opened his mouth to tease Josh further, but when he looked up and met your eyes, he let the next remark die on his lips - instead just settling for a smug smirk.

No one mentioned anything else about it, but as the meal went on, you realized that you really had nothing to be ashamed of. You brushed your fingers against Josh’s under the table and then let him lace them together as his sister was telling a story about the best gift she’d ever received. You didn’t share a look with him, but you didn’t have to as his thumb swiped over the top of your hand, over and over.

After breakfast was eaten and presents were opened, Josh found you on your way out of the restroom and motioned for you to follow him to his room.

“I have something for you,” he started as he took your hand and sat you on the bed. You crossed your hands in your lap, settling into your spot with a smile. He closed the door behind him and then lifted the bag he’d packed from home onto the dresser.

He pulled out a little box like a magician would pull a rabbit from his hat, and then held it out for you to take.

“It really isn’t much, because we obviously don’t have a lot of money, but after what you did for Penny- Well. I wanted to do something meaningful too,” he explained sheepishly.

The box was wrapped in mint green foil and marked with your name on a brown paper tag.

You took a lot of care removing the wrapping, and gently opened the top of the box as you held his eyes.

Inside was a 4-inch terra cotta pot, decorated with delicately painted sunflowers on a white background.

“It’s obviously not perfect-” he started, but you didn’t let him finish before you set the pot on his bedspread and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“It’s perfect,” you stated simply.

+++

He slept with you again that night, this time sparing any sneaky behavior - and this time, when the two of you emerged from his room, no one even batted an eye. It took you only a few moments to pack your things up, but over an hour to say all of your goodbyes.

You watched as his mother hugged him again, just like she had when he’d arrived - tightly, like she could barely stand to let him leave. This time, she hugged you too, nearly just as warmly.

Josh helped you get your bags into the trunk of your car, being decidedly less gentle with Jake’s belongings, and the two of you crawled into the front seats as Jake was ribbing his much taller younger brother at the front door.

“Hey, I got you this. I looked it up on my phone and the wiki page said I could just rip it off, so I did,” he explained as he placed a long arm of the Christmas cactus into your lap.

You look at it for a long moment, your chest feeling tight.

He must have mistaken your silence for apprehension, because he continued on, letting a concerned tone shade his words. “It said it wouldn’t hurt the plant and that it would eventually just grow roots. Is that right? So you can have one of your own, you know? Since you liked it so much. You could even use the little pot.”

You let your eyes meet his as you tried to choke back the feeling in your throat that was threatening tears. Embarrassingly, your voice was a little shaky when you stated, “I love you too.”

He looked completely stunned, but he only had a moment to fix his expression before Jake was opening the back door and sliding effortlessly in.

“You guys good to go?” Jake asked as he leaned forward and snatched the aux cable from where it was rested on the center console.

You gave Josh an expectant smile, but when it was clear that he wasn’t going to respond, you leaned over and pressed a kiss against his lips, prompting him to say through a beaming grin, “Let’s go home.”

#brightest blue fic #Brightest Blue #josh fic #josh kiszka #josh x reader #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka fic

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trinketprince · 3 years

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All the Youkaimatsus so far

JExcept sets that have all of them as the same youkais (Nekomata, Tanuki and the various Kitsune sets from Tabimatsu)

Pinup Poster from the Osomatsu Character Book #6 (July 2016)

A classic. The very first iteration of Youkaimatsu. Kind of hard to find since it was a bonus poster from the character book, so unless you were actively looking for the book, you wouldn’t find this.

Osomatsu - Kitsune (unknown how many tails he has but is often depicted in fan artworks as 6 or 9, 9 meaning strongest/wisest a kitsune has been, Spirit Fox)

Karamatsu - Karasu-Tengu (pun on Kara, Bird Man)

Choromatsu - Dodomeki (usually a woman cursed with long arms littered with many bird eyes because of greed. Most popular one imo)

Ichimatsu + ESP Nyanko - Nekomata (Two-tailed cat, legend says that cats who live longer than a 100 years gain a second tail)

Jyushimatsu - Rokurobi (available in two flavors. Long Neck and Floating Head. He is the former. Theorized to not actually be a youkai but created for entertainment. Also used as a literary device for a wandering soul.)

Todomatsu - Yukki Onna (Also a joke on Todo being scared stiff. Yuki Onna pull tricks on humans that usually end on the person’s death via cold. Has a harsh and soft side)

Youkai Units from The Great Youkai War event from Hesokuri Wars (November 2016)

Most popular Youkaimatsu set, this baby could get milked for miles, but for some reason isn’t. Has a lot of variants (Awakened, Darkness, Snow, Sakura and Hyakki Yagyou) and connected to a lot of other sets: Denki Mystery, Colorless Overalls, Mononoke and a bunch of others. She is the top DOGG set.

Osomatsu - Shuten-Douji (Oni Leader with a penchance for Sake, literally carrying a big ass bottle of it on his back, since he is the leader of the sextuplets and the one seen drinking beer the most)

Karamatsu - Aoandon (Summoned after 100 supernatural stories are told. Originated from the blue (ao) paper lanterns (andon) that were sometimes used to give a chilling atmosphere)

Choromatsu - Daitengu (Great Tengu, Tengus were theorized to be ascended souls, but also has its origins in a Dog Beast that looked like a comet. For some reason Dog Beast turned into Bird Man. The bird man’s beak is often anthropomorphized into long noses. Tells humanity to behave by throwing invisible stones at them)

Ichimatsu - Nine-tailed Kitsune (So wise. So powerful)

Jyushimatsu - Inugami (Dog God that possesses people)

Todomatsu - Bake-Danuki (also known as tanuki, mischievous spirits, mostly known in pop culture for their BIG FAT NUTS)

Dayon is a miko, a shrine maiden. Hatabou is an Onmyoji, an exorcist, Dekapan is a kannushi, a shrine priest. Totoko and Iyami are regular civillians

Youkai Hyakki Yagyou merchandise from Animate Girls Festival (September 2017)

One of the lesser known sets, considering that it’s just designs for a line of merch but their designs are so good? Why don’t people use these designs more often.

Osomatsu - Karasu-Tengu

Karamatsu - Nine-tailed fox

Choromatsu - Shuten-Douji (A possible reference to Season 1 Episode 2 where he gets the most drunk?)

Ichimatsu - Mizuchi (Legendary Water Serpent/Dragon)

Jyushimatsu - Kamaitachi (Beast that rides on dust devils. Cuts people using it’s scythe-like nails. The wounds are sharp but painless)

Todomatsu - Ungaikyou (A haunted mirror that can be used to trap spirits. The spirits in the ungaikyou can manipulate the reflection shown on it’s reflection.)

Kitsune Servant Set from Tabimatsu (September 2017)

Ok I know I said I wouldn’t cover the Kitsune sets from Tabimatsu since there are like 5 different Kitsune sets, but this one is noteworthy cause they have secondary Youkai traits other than the regular kitsune traits.

Osomatsu - Oni’s horns

Karamatsu - Tengu’s wings

Choromatsu - Orochi around his neck

Ichimatsu - True Kitsune (Or Nekomata’s paw?)

Jyushimatsu - Wanyudo (Flaming Wheel)

Todomatsu - I don’t know, but there’s something around his neck?

Japanese Youkai set from Shimamatsu (January 2018)

Shimamatsu was such a good game, what a shame it ended so soon. The 3D models were so cute. Edit: The two designs are from before and after evolution!

Osomatsu - Enma-san (A wrathful god in charge of judging souls in the afterlife. Resides over hell)

Karamatsu - Yamato no Orochi (Eight headed and Eight-tailed serpent/dragon)

Choromatsu - Kamaitachi (wields an actual scythe)

Ichimatsu - Youkai Catman or a Bakaneko (Catboy, furry)

Jyushimatsu - Yobuko (lives in the mountains, repeats whatevers shouted into the mountain, explains the phenomemon of Echos)

Todomatsu - Yuki Otoko (Snowman, a Yuki Onna basically)

“Inn” Osoma and Choroe from Osomatsu Season 2 Episode 17

A BUNCH OF PEOPLE REMINDED ME AND HOW COULD I FORGET THE BEST YOUKAI EVER. Osoma baby,,,, I’m so sorry..... Srsly, this skit was so good, I hope they make more skits like this where they make entirely new characters out of the framework of the sextuplets.

Osoma - A Zashiki-warashi, child spirits who live in store rooms or extra rooms, they died buried in their homes. Pranksters but meeting one is said to bring good fortunes to families. Osoma gets crossovered a lot with the other Youkai sets in JP fanart. A popular pairing is Dodomeki Chorosuke (from Denki Mystery) and Osoma also Kitsune Osomatsu (from the poster) and Osoma.

Choroe - Not necessarily a youkai, in fact in the episode she’s presented as just a regular human. But is theorized often to be a Yama-uba. An old woman banished to the mountains. She provides shelter to weary travelers (in the myth it’s just a humble shelter but you know. an inn is also considered a shelter) before eating them. In one story she eats the recently birthed baby of a woman who had to give birth in the mountains.

Mononoke from Hesokuri Wars (May 2019)

Technically they are all the same type of being, Mononoke, but they look different from each other. Mononoke can posses individuals and cause suffereing and even death. And technically they aren’t Youkais but Onryos, vengeful spirits. But Onryos can also be used to refer to youkais and truthfully I just wanna include this set cause their designs are so cool looking. This set’s attacks contain glimpses of units of other sets.

Osomatsu - Bear themed

Karamatsu - Wolf themed

Choromatsu - Rooster/Chicken themed

Ichimatsu - Spider

Jyushimatsu - Boar

Todomatsu - Bull or Ox

Edo Rock The Great Youkai Harvest Festival from Tabimatsu (October 2019)

This set is interesting cause rather than youkai alone, they are also musicians. This set also has another set like Hesokuri called The Great Youkai NEET which is basically the awakened versions, properly showcasing more of the youkai traits.

Osomatsu - Shuten-Douji (Again, we need to stage an intervention for you damn)

Karamatsu - Karasu-Tengu (Again)

Choromatsu - Mizuchi (actually riding said serpent)

Ichimatsu - Black Kitsune (Hot Topic, Goth version)

Jyushimatsu - Frog. Just. Frog. (could be a reference to the legend of Jiraiya, the ninja who could shapeshift into a frog/ride big frogs. His mouth is cover just like a ninja is too.)

Todomatsu - Kamaitachi (could be a reference to season 1 where Todomatsu wields a scythe)

Iyami - Oni (not sure if he’s any particular oni but he does have the horns and metal club)

Atsushi - Ibaraki-Douji? (White hair and singular horn, most imporant servant of Shuten-Douji)

Promo Merch from Sega Cafe collab (September 2020)

Edit: Thank you @zenryokubatankyu for notifying me! Another set of promo youkais! You can get them by random by ordering a drink or meal at the now-defunct Sega x Osomatsu collab cafe. And the return of F6? Damn I haven’t seen you since Season 2!

Osomatsu - Oni

Karamatsu - I’m not exactly sure but he seems like a Mizuchi, a water serpent/dragon. He also could be another legendary serpent/dragon though.

Choromatsu - Kappa

Ichimatsu + ESP Nyanko - Karasu-Tengu

Jyushimatsu - I’m not sure, at first i thought it might be a crab youkai judging from the legs, but upon closer inspection he has spider webs on his robes, so they may be spider legs instead. Could be a Jorogumo, a youkai that wields fire breathing spiders with it’s spider legs

Todomatsu - Bakaneko (I think? The veil could be the napkin a bakaneko puts on it’s head)

Ayakashi Sextuplet’s Retro Halloween Cafe merch from Web Kuji (October 2020)

Thank you @gradelstuff for telling me about this! Ayakashi are Youkai that appear above nearby bodies of water. Although the youkais they’re dressed up as (or are?) aren’t really what you would call ayakashi? Although it’s cafe themed, it isn’t actually from a cafe collaboration. These designs are merchandise meant to be won through lottery. So if say you really love Kara and Choro’s designs (I do), then tough luck buddy!

Osomatsu - Oni

Karamatsu - Now you may think he’s Dodomeki since he’s covered with eyes, but turns out there are two other eye-relateed youkai! Mokumokuren is a youkai phenomenon where eyes appear from torn paper walls and tatami floors, initially i thought this was it given the checkered pattern he was wearing. But he might actually be a Hyakume, a youkai covered head to toe in yellow eyes specifically. Underneath those eyes is a body of flesh roughly in the shape of a man. This Youkai isn’t particularly malicious, only detaching one of it’s many eyes to follow you and survey you for criminal activiy. He might also be a BackBeard, a youkai allegedly from the US, err that would make him a cryptid I guess? A Backbeard is often characterized as a shadow with a Yellow eye with a red iris in the center. Note: Backbeard’s true origins are not known as there doesn’t seem to be any cryprid called a Backbeard, it first entered the Japanese public eye as an antogonist in the show Gegege no Kitaro. Although ever since then this “yokai” has appeared in other media and games in Japan.

Choromatsu - He isn’t exactly dressed as it (only themed as it) but the youkai he represents is the one he’s holding, a Kasa-obake, One of my favorite youkais and it’s literally iconic. Thought to be a Tsukomogami, an object that gains a spirit after it turns 100 years old.

Ichimatsu - Edit: I’m not sure but he might be a Kuchisake-Onna. In the description attached to his teaser, it makes mention of specifically his wide smile, his dos dagger and his beautiful shirt. A kuchisake onna is a yokai that wanders in the street covering her face with a mask (skull mask for ichi) and a sharp object (his dos dagger). TW GORE DESCRIPTION: She asks you if you think she’s attractive and depending on your answer she muders you with her scissors, plunging it into you OR she takes off her mask showing her wide smile, her mouth slit at the corners to her ears and asks “how about now?” and depending on your reaction she cuts you in half with her sharp object OR she slits the corners of your mouth to look like hers. END DESCRIPTION. Ichi has the mask, sharp object, wide smile and “attractiveness”. Obviously it would be inappropriate to portray ichi in the same fashion as the kuchisake onna so he was probably given the internal organ tattoos to represent the gory yokai. (internal organs usually = gore in japan). This is speculah and he might be another youkai but this is all i can think of rn.

Jyushimatsu - sailor themed Jiangshi. Jiangshi are basically Zombies originally from Chinese culture. They hop around, and crave for life force. this little jyushimatsu has taken to tomato juice instead. (Bonus: the zombie that osomatsu is in the zombie set in hesokuri wars is also a Jiangshi)

Todomatsu - Kitsune (sly fox)

“The Night Path” Youkai from Osomatsu-san Season 3 Episode 6 (November 2020)

The latest and what sparked me to make this post tbh. This set reuses the Rokurobi design from the very first Youkaimatsu iteration! Full circle yo! I like to think of this set as an addition to the original youkaimatsu, since they’re both from the primary sources.

Jyushimatsu - Rokurobi (Again)

Totoko - Amabie (mermaid with three legs? prophesized about either good harvest or an epidemic, trivia: “Amabie” trended when Covid 19 hit the world)

Hatabou - Azukiarai (a youkai that originated from the sound of something like beans being washed near a river, anyone who comes near will fall into the river)

Dayon - Nopperabou (Faceless spirits that take the form of humans. They are harmless usually, they just scare humans)

Dekapan - Kappa (Mischievous River spirits)

That should be all of them!

Recap:

Osomatsu has been a Kitsune, Shuten-Douji (twice), Karasu-Tengu, Enma-san and an Oni

Karamatsu has been a Karasu-Tengu (twice), Aoandon, Kitsune, Yamato no Orochi and a Mizuchi (?)

Choromatsu has been a Dodomeki, Daitengu, Shuten-Douji, Kamaitachi, Mizuki and a Kappa (No repeats!)

Ichimatsu has been a Nekomata, Kitsune (twice), Mizuchi, Bakaneko and a Karasu-Tengu

Jyushimatsu has been a Rokurobi (twice-ish), Inugami, Kamaitachi, Yobuko, a Frog from Jiraiya and a Jorogumo (?)

Todomatsu has been a Yuki Onna (twice), Bake-danuki, Ungaikyou, Kamaitachi and a Bakaneko

You can definitely see a trend (lmao), I’m looking forward to more Youkaimatsus from Osomatsu-san!

bonus:

Osomatsu-san cameo from Yokai Watch!!!

#Osomatsu san #Youkaimatsu #Yokaimatsu #妖怪松 #Hesokuri Wars #Shimamatsu #Tabimatsu #I'm not tagging all the matsus lmao #long post

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lovethisletters · 3 years

Text

The Bat & The Lantern || Batman x Reader

Hi, lovely! I had so much fun writing this (I'm not gonna lie, I was quite nervous at first, since I don't know that much about the whole green lantern universe, but guess it turned out...ok?) so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did and to be honest, I would like to revisit this story again in the future!

Little disclaimer: The reader is a Human green lantern but similar to star-lord she lived the majority of her life in space, that's why she's so oblivious as to whom Batman is, also this takes place during Dick Grayson early years as robin (12-13).

Word count: 2233!!!

Summary: Reader is a new member of the Justice League...but Batman doesn't seem too happy about it.

Keys: Y/S/N: Your Superhero Name | Y/N: Your (real) Name.

Hal Jordan was your friend since you joined the green lanterns (which it was barely 3 or 4 years ago)

Basically...you were "new"

But that didn't stop your fellow green lanterns (?) From seeing all your potential.

Everyone is convinced that with the right training and perseverance, you will become one of the greatest green lanterns of all time.

So, it didn't take long before you proved yourself to be capable enough to join the big leagues.

More specifically, The Justice League.

Hal was the one to introduce you to his companions.

The Amazonian, the human looking alien, the speedster, the other Alien not so human looking, the half robot; everyone was so nice to you since they met you.

Everyone except...The grumpy bat.

When you first introduced yourself, he didn't even bother to be as welcoming as the others.

He just stood there, looking all big and serious that you almost thought it was a statue or the poor guy had catatonic lapses or was way too shy or socially awkward to approach you.

You felt bad, so you approached him instead.

—Hi! I'm Y/S/N...—You said enthusiastically before being abruptly interrupted.

—I know, I heard your introduction already—His voice so devoid of any kind of emotion that you may as well had been talking to a machine.

"Scanning complete, Batman"

A voice inside his cowl informed him, it sounded like an older man with a British accent.

—Thank you, I'll check it later.

That’s when it hit you…the reason why he was watching you so intensely and standing so incredibly still: He was scanning you.

Fucking. Son. Of. A. Bitch.

You stayed there, your face paralyzed with surprise and anger, without knowing very well what to answer; you didn't want to cause a scene on your first day, but this man was just so rude; That is not an appropriate way to receive a new member. yes, it is normal to have suspicions, but you would appreciate if he had the decency to let his suspicions be known when you weren't present.

—she just introduced herself and already on with the paranoic behavior, Bats? seriously? —Hal stepped in your defense.

—this is a routine procedure; I'm just being cautious.

—He was like that at the beginning with all of us too, don’t worry he’ll warm up to you in no time—Wonder woman whispered in your ear after watching your uncomfortable expression.

Ultimatedly you decided to listen to the amazonian and let that one slide, “is normal to be wary of new things anyways” you repeated yourself.

As the months passed you have grown quite frustrated. Between all the missions and meetings even though you felt your relationship with the rest of the team grow closer and they began to trust you and respect you; your relationship with the Batman stayed pretty much the same.

Yes, there was a bit of progress….a bit.

He was bit more talkative to you, a bit more “friendly”, a bit more trusting.

But it was always just a bit never actually fully a teammate to you, your relationship felt more like distant coworkers.

At the beginning it didn’t worry you too much, until your lack of communication started to mess with your performance in the missions, sometimes something completely bizarre and unexpected would happen and because both of you didn’t know each other very well, the mission would take the double amount of time to resolve since you couldn’t coordinate at all.

One time he almost ran you over with his batwing…

The whole thing was kinda funny looking back on it but at the time you were furious (rightfully so)

In his defense, he didn’t knew you were there…I mean…you basically where standing in his parking spot (not that you knew there was such a thing, most members could fly or at least jump really high, so you kinda always forgot he couldn’t…and to be honest you didn’t know his exact powers)

—Sorry—was all he said as he got out of the strangely shaped flying vehicle and directed only one glance at you to make sure you where ok before entering the building, always maintaining that characteristic calm and cold demeanor.

One day you entered the hall of justice earlier than usual only to find an unexpected guest sitting in one of the empty chairs his gaze fixated on a book, he was wearing a rather colorful suit of some sort matching his green mask, then you realized when you were close enough…he was a C H I L D.

You panicked, why was a child here? Is he some sort of mini spy? How was he able to get through the security system? Did he touch anything dangerous?

This and many more questions ran through your mind, the child noticed you were looking at him and only gave a polite nod as a greeting before returning his attention to his book.

Perhaps a school trip that you weren’t aware of was taking place and this kid strayed from his class? Perhaps he was looking for one of your teammates to ask for a photo and got lost and decided to wait here for his teacher? That will explain why everyone wasn’t here in the meetings room, perhaps they were busy giving the (hypothetical) group of children a tour?

—Hey kiddo! Are you lost? —you began the conversation in a friendly tone before kneeling down a little in order to appear less imposing…after all he was a child you didn’t wanna scare him.

He looked at you so incredulously.

You could almost hear him think “ma’am wtf are you doing???” through his expressions.

—What’s your name?

—Ummm…uh…Robin?—He spoke like it was something obvious while signaling the “R” symbol on his chest.

—Robin, uh? What a pretty name! tell me Robin…why are you here? Are you lost?

Poor boy he was so confused, you didn’t know who he was? Didn’t any of the members told you about him? And more importantly…Why where you talking to him like if he was a 5-year-old?

—No, ma’am…I’m just waiting for Batman.

“Batman? Was he a fan of Batman of all superheroes?” It surprised you a bit, usually kids tend to like superman or wonder woman more since they are nicer and charismatic, and Batman was the opposite.

—Sorry Kiddo, I don’t think he’s one for photos, perhaps you could ask the others some other time! — you began explaining trying to dissuade the kid while guiding him towards the exit.

—He’s not here for photos—smooth as ever…the Bat was behind you.

—He’s my sidekick.

Your jaw dropped, a sidekick? He’s a CHILD! You knew superheroes had sidekicks, but you never knew they were that young!

Before you could even begin to protest, Batman ignored you, looking down at the child and instructing him to collect his things.

—Hurry, you’ll be late for class again. — He said before disappearing behind the door that led to his parking spot.

Robin quickly followed, hanging his backpack over his shoulder before stopping in his tracks directing an apologetic smile towards you and saying:

—Don’t worry miss, I can take care of myself! — He must have noticed the concern on your face before leaving.

Since that day your routine changed.

You would wake up earlier, many times you’ll be the first to arrive to the Hall of justice, and even have breakfast flying on your way there all for one thing: Robin.

Once you learned he was Batman’s sidekick you couldn’t help but worry over that poor child, “what if he gets hurt? Is he eating/sleeping/resting properly?” you just couldn’t help yourself.

At first it was just checking on the kid by just…seeing him in the morning and greeting him casually but there were times he wasn’t there, and you would panic internally and there was no other way to calm your anxiety until you would ask the Bat about the child.

He would always replay shortly: “He’s at home” “He’s at school” “He’s busy” and your conversations always would end there.

One day that Robin was there however, instead of your usual ‘greeting nod’ he started talking to you.

He asked you all sorts of things (that weren’t compromising to your real identity ofc) “What’s your favorite color?” “What music do you like?” “What’s your favorite movie?”

And it started from there.

The conversations with Robin grew not only more frequent but also more personal (as personal as someone with a superhero lifestyle can be), to the point it had become a routine for you to come early and talk to the boy, sometimes you had breakfast together or even helped him with his homework before the Bat would take him to school.

Perhaps it was because you didn’t have many acquittances here on earth, but Robin became family to you.

And family takes care of each other.

It had been a rather difficult and spontaneous mission; Lex Luthor was starting to act a little bit fishy (more than usual) using his connections and money Luthor had been acquiring/robbing very specifically concerning items all over the US, his next objectives: a Radion sample being investigated in a secret laboratory in Star city and a Dionesium sample...contained in the Wayne tower laboratories...

The team decided to split to put a stop to Luthor’s minions and his plan.

The Bat insisted the rest of the team should go to Star city, telling them that he and Robin could handle it, but everyone was immediately against it: Luthor had already collected relatively powerful items and being the intelligent motherfucker he is, probably transformed some of those items to give to his goon’s so they might have a chance in harming any of the members if they were to interfere.

Ultimately, the team agreed you and cyborg would accompany them to Wayne Tower.

Robin was stoked, he would get the opportunity to fight alongside you! But Batman…not so much…he kept trying to lose the two of you on the way there; fortunately, cyborg put a tracker on the batwing, he wasn’t going to get rid of you that easy.

Upon your arrival, you could spot several men (armed like if they were military but with a much more upgraded equipment) already leaving the building, carrying two tanks (presumably full of that substance Martian Manhunter had mentioned before) and heading to a truck without any plates.

Long story short: you organized a plan as quickly as you could but…something went wrong…Cyborg and Robin were supposed to create a distraction while the two of you recovered the tanks without damaging them, since the properties of the substance within remained unknown.

But something went wrong: You and Batman failed to coordinate and so you were spotted by the henchmen, they started aiming their weapons at the two of you, initially you thought a force field generated by the power of your ring would be enough...oh no, honey, you’re so wrong.

Sonic weapons were able to not only break your concentration quickly, but also made your ears bleed! One after another you kept re-making the fields, but the sonic waves so deathly and loud just kept coming.

You don’t know how but you were able to stand your ground long enough to make cover not only for Batman and allow him to get the tanks back safely but also for the rest of your team and give them a slight advantage to take down as many of Luthor’s minions as they could.

And then…you passed out.

You woke up at the infirmary in Justice Hall, your head a mess and wrapped in bandages, you had broken your arm because that shit inside a cast too for some reason…and…your ring was gone!

Panic!

No, never mind it was on the nightstand next to the chair in which batman was sitting on.

WAIT…next to the chair in which batman was sitting on?!?!?!

—How are you feeling? — you didn’t know if it was him suddenly talking or the genuine concern on his voice that startle you, so you just nodded slightly while he approached you.

—Can you hear me properly? —Surprisingly you could, but you still were a bit taken aback by his presence.

—I…—Before responding your brain reminded you of the fact that you didn’t had your ring on, hence your secret identity was revealed to Batman. Your hands practically flew to your face in embarrassment. You didn’t know why but without your mask you felt naked and vulnerable.

He noticed.

His gaze studying your pained expression before he let out a small sigh.

—I came here…to thank you…and apologize— hesitantly his hands moved to the back of his cowl.

—You not only put yourself in danger for Cyborg and Robin, but you also concerned yourself with my safety even when it was probably my fault that we ended up in that situation —He admitted pressing a hidden button loosing up his cowl before finally taking it off and reviling the most gorgeous man you’ve had ever lay your eyes on.

—And for that I thank you and apologize…sincerely—Such sudden action left you speechless for a while, Batman not only had thanked you and apologized, but he had entrusted his identity to you.

—I think-…I think we started with the wrong foot; you know? —You finally were able to respond, breaking the silence that filled the room and surprising him slightly by your sudden declaration.

—Let’s start again…Hi! I’m Y/N—You imitated the same friendly voice tone you first used to talk to him.

The lips on the man in front of you curved forming a subtle almost imperceptive grin.

—Hello, Y/N, I’m Bruce…Bruce Wayne.

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! IT. TOOK. SO. LONG. Sorry :c

I had a bunch of ideas for this request but ended up going with this one since I wanted to expand on their beginning, I’m still trying to figure out a way to write Bruce and this was my first attempt, so…sorry if it was…bad :c I’ll try harder next time!!!

Any errors you might see, please let me know; English is not my first language so I’m trying to improve.

In the final scene I wanted Bruce to show he recognized the Reader as an equal so that’s why he took it off…still I felt like it could improve.

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

I will forever thank you if you go check out my other profile: @aileysmirnov where I post things about my OC: edits, one-shots, imagines, art, etc. If you like Greek mythology and the bat family maybe you would get to be a little bit fond of her as much as I am!

Anyway! Thank you for reading!

#batman x reader #batman hc #batman #batman imagine #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #batfamily #green lantern #justice league #batfam #fanfic #batman fic #dick grayson #robin

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fandom-thingies · 3 years

Text

This is an unfinished draft of a long, in depth analysis I’m planning of everything we know about Silksong. The final draft will have detailed analysis of enemies, areas, names, and many, many attempts to draw parallels with Hollow Knight. Without further ado, here’s the draft!

Will Hornet have her memories? Or will the winds of the Wastes have swept them away?

Prequel or sequel? (I’m thinking sequel, based on the implied presence of weavers in the trailer)

Lace fights Hornet (at least) twice, doesn’t call her by name, and knows things. IS SHE A HORNET PARALLEL AND HOW MUCH

What awful thing is going to happen to the flea-collecting village? Will they all die, or will they turn out to be evil? (My money’s on the latter)

Is the bell cult good, bad, or something else?

Who is the main villain?

Is Lace an antagonist or a Hornet parallel?

Lesbians???

Everything in Silksong seems much more vibrant than Hallownest. Instead of muted colors and effectively blank backgrounds, all of the areas we’ve been shown seem to be very saturated, and the design feels like everything is there for a reason. It’s a stark contrast to Hollow Knight’s busy backgrounds and dour themes, and is it possible the story reflects/is intended to reflect this?

Why does that one enemy look so much like steel soul Jinn?

Is Lace void??

Seriously though, she covers almost all of her body and her face is very similar to that of a shade’s. The existence of the shade trap room in the Colosseum of Fools implies the existence of other void creatures, though of course it could simply have been built for THK. We know void creatures are capable of having voices, as evidenced by the Collector, so IS LACE VOID???

That one area has a lovely juxtaposition between the white roses carpeting the ground and the industrial style pipes in the background, and knowing team Cherry, there’s definitely a reason for this.

Who kidnapped a Hornet and why?

Who sent the butterfly that breaks the seal of binding on her cage? Lace knows about Hornet’s imprisonment- could it have been her? Though she admittedly doesn’t seem to have much motivation to keep Hornet alive...

In Hollow Knight, the name of the game is also the name of the final boss. Could this also be true to an extent for Silksong? I doubt the boss would be named that explicitly, but perhaps someone who holds an association to both?

Multiple endings?

Will the final boss actually be the final boss? In Hollow Knight, the Radiance acts as a sort of hidden boss. Will this also be true in Silksong?

Will there be godseekers or the Grimm Troupe?

Will Ghost or THK be mentioned?

Will this focus more on expanding Hallownest’s lore or introducing Pharloom’s?

Points of interest:

1. Hornet appears to be performing a move similar to a great slash or dash slash here, which the enemy appears to be attempting (succeeding?) to deflect with their scissors

2. 2. In Hollow Knight, almost every fence or wall in Hallownest had the repeated motif of the king’s seal. This design looks a lot like a godseeker’s mask, as well as some of the enemies that have been revealed so far.

3. These appear to be at least four massive spools of silk. We know for a fact that there are weavers in Pharloom, and the sheer amount of silk here is more than we ever see in one place in Hallownest. Could it be possible that weaversilk is being farmed somehow?

4. It’s difficult to see, but this appears to be a massive control wheel, like you’d see on a valve. It’s much bigger than any standard bug could take advantage of, but we already know that Silksong is going to have some massive enemies, so it’s possible one of these also acts or acted as an overseer for this area.

5. This wall design heavily reminds me of both the walls in the Resting Grounds and the Birthplace. Are these corpses, or simply made to look like them? Either way, there’s definitely lore attached.

As well as all that, note how thin the support struts are, and how they appear wooden and cobbled together. I propose that what Hornet is climbing on here is the scaffolding around a massive silk related machine of some sort. Maybe an automatic loom?

Points of interest:

1. You’ll note that the enemy is holding a gilded pin, which is the same weapon Lace uses and is described as “the traditional weapon of Pharloom” by Team Cherry. I take this to mean that this bug has probably been in this place for a while.

2. This isn’t big or anything, but it’s very interesting to me that both Hallownest and Pharloom use lumafly lanterns for light. This implies some interesting things either about Hallownest and Pharloom’s proximity or the ubiquity of lumaflies.

3. This is clearly a graveyard. I find it very interesting that the stones seem to be entirely plain of embellishment or text except for the bell symbol. Also, I wonder if the graveyard being here means that we’re close to the Citadel?

4. This appears to be a fallen elevator. I’m not sure what else I could draw from it, but it definitely adds to the dilapidated and abandoned feel of this area.

5. This enemy has three golden straight pins. It’s very possible that you gain the ability to throw three at once after vanquishing one of these enemies. Another interesting thing to note is that the enemy isn’t holding these pins. If you look closely, their hand is at their side. The pins are instead seemingly fastened to their head somehow.

6. This is difficult to see properly, but the design on the fence here appears to be similar to the shape of the fallen elevator. It could also be read as a representation of the Citadel.

A few other things to note are that the colors here are almost identical to those of the resting grounds, including the enemies. This is unusual as far as Silksong goes, as most of the areas are far more intensely saturated.

These enemies appear to be wearing cloaks. It’s difficult to tell whether it’s the shadow of the hood that’s hiding their faces or whether that’s simply what they look like.

Also, Greymoor is a very interesting name and I’d like to explore what precisely a “moor” is, because I think this may give more clues as to the nature of the area.

Moors are defined as highland areas with acidic soil and low vegetation. The fact that moors are specifically highland areas makes me suspect even more that Greymoor connects directly to the Citadel, as Silksong appears to be a game mostly focused on going up, so where better to transition from the ground to the Citadel than highland?

1. We know from the Resting Grounds that this is how Ari draws mummified corpses. The fact that this corpse is walking around definitely implies some shenanigans. It brings to mind the description of Greymoor as “haunted”.

2. The fact that this corpse is lying on the ground makes me wonder if most of these mummified bugs will lie still on the ground until they notice Hornet, which would be an interesting enemy mechanic.

3. This lumafly lantern is tinted green, which I’m pretty sure we never saw in Hollow Knight. (Correct me if I’m wrong) It makes me wonder if something special was done to the lantern to achieve this.

4. Team Cherry has said that Hornet’s silk and soul are “inseparably intertwined”. It’s a very nice design touch to see that healing creates both kinds of particle.

5. See those motes in the air? They look very similar to the spores of the Fungal Wastes, and I suspect they may be the reason moss covers everything here.

What I lined in dark blue is the visible boning beneath the moss, and what I lined in cyan is the places where the moss grows too regularly, implying yet more boning just beneath.

I’m not sure whether this is deliberate or whether the moss grew over already existing structures to cause this, but another thing to note is that the way this moss grows is very reminiscent of moss balls, or marimo balls, an aquatic plant that grows in freshwater lakes.

The reason this interests me isn’t because I think these *are* moss balls, but rather because of how natural grottos form.

Most natural grottos are formed by water eroding soft rock like limestone into large caves. It’s common for them to either be flooded or to flood at high tide, which when combined with the aquatic vegetation in this area, could imply that it will be flooded for part of the game or at intervals. It’s possible Team Cherry would use this to echo the way that the Forgotten Crossroads turn into the Infected Crossroads, or it could be a way of gating the first area behind you until you get more movement capabilities similar to the Howling Cliffs.

Lastly, one of the root words for Grotto is the Latin word for “crypt”. Combined with the mummified corpses here, it makes me wonder.

Points of interest:

1. Confirmation that Hornet can look up! I don’t think anyone was worried about it, but it’s good to know we’ll still be able to do that.

2. You’ll note, first of all, that this is unusually bare for Ari’s backgrounds. The designs are smooth with little shading and there are massive dark areas. This leads me to believe that this isn’t the finished background, nor the one we’ll see in game.

3. The two strange objects at the corners of the screen are difficult to identify. Personally, I think they look like plugs of some sort, though I have no idea what they might be plugging. Maybe magma?

4. What is it with Team Cherry and throwing dead bodies everywhere? That’s litter, it’s illegal. Anyway, what might have killed these bugs?

5. You’ll note the massive misshapen mountain of bones in the background. Where did all of these come from? Also, the fact that they are bones means that this is probably Bonebottom. I’d like to call your attention to the fact that bugs don’t actually have bones, just exoskeletons, which makes the source of these even more dubious.

6. There are several ember particle effects, which I take to mean that there’s a whole bunch of magma nearby.

7. There are a few links of chain attached to each plug. Likely this is to allow them to be dragged open. I’m very curious whether this is just a design detail or whether opening these plugs will be used as a mechanic somehow.

Circled in blue are the (brass?) rings on Shakra’s arms as well as a similar ring on the ground. I’m not sure why one of her arm rings would be on the ground, but maybe it’s similar to Cornifer’s pages?

#meta #silksong #silksong speculation #silksong meta #hk hornet #silksong analysis #I’ll probably have to split the final version into multiple parts #greymoor #mossy grotto #bonebottom #shakra

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tiramisiyu · 3 years

Text

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: 【掌中流光】 Xia Yan’s Light in Palms Date Translation

Translation Masterlist | Xia Yan Masterlist

Video: https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1nX4y1u7XA/

Because the timing of this date story is New Year’s Eve, I aimed to have it finished and posted for today (i.e. our New Year’s Eve). Happy New Year, everyone! Hoping that 2021 will be much better!

PART 1

Xia Yan’s House

Today was the last day on the calendar.

As the first New Year’s Eve after my reunion with Xia Yan, we had originally made a chock-full travel plan - but before we were about to set out, Xia Yan suddenly received a command to return to the capital, and didn’t return until last night. Because I didn’t want Xia Yan to be travel-worn again, I decided on staying at home for a leisurely New Year’s Eve – a day spent playing games! A night spent feasting! Going at zero-o’clock to see the New Year’s Eve fireworks show!

Although, when we put this “Leisurely New Year’s Eve Plan” into action, it wasn’t very leisurely…

Xia Yan: Right side! The enemy went over there!

MC: Where where?! I can’t see it!

In a panic, I manipulated the video game controller to adjust my viewing angle, but I didn’t see anything at all.

Bang bang bang— A barrage of gunshot sounds suddenly started. My blood meter started losing blood crazily, just like a water pipe that had exploded.

MC: Ahhh! My blood meter’s in the red!

Xia Yan: Give it to me!

I immediately stuffed the controller into Xia Yan’s hands, but he hadn’t even received it firmly when my view went grey. My character had fallen in battle.

MC: …

MC: This is too much…

Xia Yan and I attempted to refresh our save points from eight years ago. We were clearly able to co-op smoothly before, with flashing lights announcing our clears, yet we were actually on a losing streak today! Discouraged, I threw aside the controller, then reclined backwards into the beanbag chair.

Xia Yan: Don’t be discouraged – we haven’t played this for several years. It’s natural to be out of practice.

Xia Yan: How about we go through our save points for the casual games?

MC: That’s fine… I need to play some easy, refreshing casual games to restore my spirit.

Xia Yan: Then you can go ahead and pick a game. I’ll go wash some apples – after eating them, we’ll play!

MC: Mhmm!

While Xia Yan washed the apples, I flipped through his box of game hard drives.

MC: Xia Yan – why are there only a little over ten games in your box? What about the others?

Xia Yan: There in the other box, on the shelf on the right side of the computer – feel free to look there.

I searched in the spot that Xia Yan had mentioned. Sure enough, I noticed several boxes - the box in the corner of the lowest shelf looked particularly exquisite. Looking at the dust that had accumulated on the wood box, it had been placed there for at least several months.

MC: This box is so pretty… and it’s fairly heavy!

I carefully took the box and opened the lid – there was a bottle of sealed foreign liquor inside. The transparent glass in a rectangular column shape was filled with an amber liquid and the yellowing wine label on the bottle had English and numbers handwritten on it.

MC: Why is the wine label handwritten? “Whisky”… it’s whiskey, right?

There was also a note beside the wine bottle. The paper had a firm texture, with a tall-stemmed wineglass and a curlicue letter “L” stamped at the top. There was neat, beautiful handwriting on the memo – looking at the writing, it was written by the same writer of the wine label. “Before reaching the end, the possibility of unexpected opportunities will always exist. – Bar L”

MC: (Is there some implication of this specific phrase being written?)

I had sunken into thought while looking at the memo. By then, Xia Yan had already returned, carrying the plate of washed apples. He saw the whiskey in the wooden box and froze somewhat.

MC: Xia Yan, why did you keep a bottle of whiskey? Do you like drinking whiskey?

MC: Is “Bar L” the name of a bar? They even gave you a note in here – are you a frequent customer there?

Xia Yan: To understand a city, the easiest way is to take a seat in the bars of the city.

Xia Yan: Plus, bars are the gathering places of all sorts of information. Of course I’ll go to bars often, to collect some information.

MC: So this bar is the one you go to most often?

Xia Yan: It’s one of them.

Xia Yan looked towards that bottle of whiskey.

Xia Yan: At the beginning of the year, I helped out at Bar L as a bartender because of a commission.

Xia Yan: The bar owner’s a great person and took great care of me. This bottle of whiskey that he brewed himself is a gift he sent me.

MC: So that’s how it is. But why didn’t you bring up before about how you even know how to bartend?

After Xia Yan returned, he’d already told me told me a lot of matters that didn’t involve “secrets”, but I’ve never heard him bring up this bartending matter back then.

Xia Yan: Hm? There’s nothing special about bartending – it’s not worth bringing up.

MC: ???

MC: What about it isn’t special? What about it isn’t worth bringing up?!

I was absolutely speechless. I really wanted to know what Xia Yan was like when he was a bartender and what kind of situations he encountered in the bar, but as far as I could see, Xia Yan still had a confused look all over his face – so I decided to find another way.

MC: Xia Yan, could you take me to hang out at Bar L?

Xia Yan: Ah?

MC: I heard that on the night of New Year’s Eve, there will be really interesting events in bars. I want to go see.

MC: Plus, it’s almost the New Year.

MC: Since the owner of this bar took care of you before, we should also say hi to him and send our respects.

Xia Yan: That’s true. The owner has also recently called me to come hang out when I had time.

Xia Yan: Then let’s go.

Commerce Street

With the hues of evening all around, the commerce street, hung full of holiday lanterns, was neon with multiple colors. On the corner of the street, a heavy oak door was hidden under the shade of a tree. A relief sculpture of a wineglass pattern and a curlicue letter “L” were on the door.

Xia Yan: Here it is – we’ve arrived.

MC: It has a major “hidden in the city” feel to it.

I looked at the oak door in front of me, feeling more and more expectant.

MC: (It’s said that bars are the gathering place of stories…)

MC: (I’ll definitely be able to hear about lots of stories about when Xia Yan was a bartender.)

I wanted to know those people Xia Yan had known and hear them talk about Xia Yan-related things. After all, those people there just might know a lot about those little matters that Xia Yan considered not worth bringing up.

But nothing is not worth bringing up.

I wanted to make up for all the stories about Xia Yan in those lost eight years.

PART 2

Bar L

When Xia Yan and I entered Bar L, they had just started operating for the night – there weren’t any guests. Under the gentle lights, the tables and chairs made from logs seemed to exude the gentleness of a past era. Xia Yan closed the entrance’s oak door, cutting off the moment of hustle and bustle from the street.

Xia Yan: Uncle Chen, I’ve come to bother you.

Uncle Chen: It’s Little Xia! Welcome, welcome.

A bartender standing inside the bar counter nodded and smiled at us. He looked like he was around 40 years old, with a face and voice that were equally gentle. After Xia Yan and I arrived at and sat down in front of the counter, Xia Yan did a simple introduction for us.

Xia Yan: Uncle Chen is the owner and bartender of Bar L. His bartending techniques and wine brewing techniques are incredibly amazing.

Xia Yan: My bottle of whiskey was brewed by Uncle Chen himself.

Xia Yan: Uncle Chen, can we pass the New Year’s Eve at your place here?

Uncle Chen: Haha, of course.

Uncle Chen: The guests for tonight will definitely be very happy to be able to see the “Bartender Detective” again.

MC: “Bartender Detective”?

Xia Yan: It’s what the guests jokingly call me, because in addition to my bartending, sometimes I’ll do some simple detective work for guests.

Looking at my responseless look, Uncle Chen helplessly laughed and shook his head.

Uncle Chen: This explanation isn’t exact enough.

Uncle Chen: Providing detective services simultaneously with his bartending isn’t the only reason why Little Xia is known as the “Bartender Detective”.

Uncle Chen: At the very beginning, it was because Little Xia once solved a guest’s problem within the time he spent creating a drink.

Uncle Chen: After, even if they didn’t need a detective, guests still loved to find Little Xia to talk to, having him guess their profession, where they just came from, stuff like that.

Uncle Chen: Slowly, this nickname spread.

MC: So Xia Yan even had this kind of story when he was a bartender!

This “Bartender Detective” matter must have been omitted by Xia Yan as something “not worth bringing up”. Sure enough, I was right to come straight here!

Uncle Chen: I’ve only been focusing on talking and didn’t ask what the young lady would like to drink. My hospitality really is insufficient.

Uncle Chen: Does the young lady want to have a hot drink like last time? Or do you want to try something else?

MC: Last time?

I only knew about this bar from seeing Xia Yan’s whiskey today…

Seeing that I was somewhat at a loss, Uncle Chen smiled.

Uncle Chen: Though today is the first time that Little Yan has brought a friend over, it’s not the first time I’ve seen the young lady.

Uncle Chen: On a rainy day at the beginning of the year, the young lady came in here and ordered a glass of hot drink from me.

All of a sudden, I remembered. At that time, a client made an appointment to see me near this place, but he suddenly had some unexpected matters to deal with before we met and would come a little late. Because it was raining, the nearby shops had already filled up with people, so I walked into this bar to avoid the rain and pass the time.

MC: Your memory is so good, being able to remember so clearly about something that had happened so long ago.

MC: Plus, there were particularly many guests that time because of the rain.

Uncle Chen: About this…

Without waiting for Uncle Chen to speak, Xia Yan immediately took over talking.

Xia Yan: “A qualified bartender does not only need to understand alcohol – they need to understand people even more. They should do all within their ability to remember the habits of each guest and let them feel at home.”

Xia Yan: This is the phrase that Uncle Chen speaks most often, so of course he would remember you.

MC: So that’s how it is. This must be the so-called “craftsman’s mindset”.

MC: (Wait, since I came to this bar at the beginning of the year…)

A doubt suddenly flashed in my head.

MC: Xia Yan, weren’t you also helping here at Uncle Chen’s place at the beginning of the year? Why didn’t I see you when I came that day?

That day, it seemed like Uncle Chen was the only bartender in the bar.

Xia Yan: …!

Xia Yan’s expression got suspiciously panicked.

Xia Yan: I… I must have taken a day off on that day.

Xia Yan: During that time, I had a particularly large amount of detective commissions, so I was a little busy.

Xia Yan quickly placed the drink menu in front of me.

Xia Yan: Right, didn’t Uncle Chen just ask you what you wanted to drink?

Xia Yan: Fruit punch, the Cinderella, and the midsummer fruit drink are all non-alcoholic cocktails, and they taste pretty good. Want to try?

MC: (This forced change in topic – he’s definitely lying.)

MC: (Xia Yan, you’ve even learned to hide from me…)

But for now, I decided to not take apart Xia Yan’s lies in front of Uncle Chen.

I pressed down on my thoughts, lowered my head, and swept a glance over the drink menu.

MC: Today’s a holiday. I want to order something with alcohol.

Looking at Xia Yan and I, Uncle Chen laughed.

Uncle Chen: If the young lady doesn’t have any special preferences, then I would like to recommend my self-brewed whiskey.

As he spoke, Uncle Chen took a bottle of whiskey from the wine shelf. The bottle was identical to the one in Xia Yan’s house.

MC: This bottle of alcohol… it seems like it’s the same as the bottle that you sent to Xia Yan before.

Uncle Chen: That’s right, they’re the same kind of alcohol. I feel like it very much suits Little Xia.

MC: It very much suits Xia Yan? Why?

Xia Yan: Uncle Chen—

Without waiting for Uncle Chen to speak, Xia Yan opened his mouth again. It was very obvious that he wanted to take over in talking…

>Prevent him >Let him

MC: (You thought I’d let you take control of the situation? Too naïve, Xia Yan!)

I quickly grabbed a piece of chocolate from the snack plate and peeled it open.

MC: Xia Yan, you must be hungry from talking so much—

Xia Yan: *mouth full noises*!

I stuffed the chocolate into Xia Yan’s mouth and covered it tightly. Xia Yan’s lips struggled futilely under my hand, and I faced back towards Uncle Chen.

MC: Uncle Chen, is there a story about Xia Yan and this bottle of whiskey?

Uncle Chen looked at me and Xia Yan, who had no way to resist, the smile on his face deep.

>Prevent him >Let him

MC: (Let me see what you’re going to say this time…)

Thus, I put on a gentle smiling expression, looking intently and quietly at Xia Yan. Under my “friendly” gaze, Xia Yan closed his just-opened mouth up again.

Xia Yan: …

For a while, we were both silent. Uncle Chen looked at Xia Yan and I, the smile on his face deep.

Uncle Chen: Has the young lady heard of a phrase like this – “All the stories in a bar are in the wine”?

Uncle Chen: Would you like to try this whiskey?

MC: Yes! I’ll have to request you for it.

Uncle Chen took a glass cup, placed three ice cubes inside, and then used the bartending spoon to stir it quickly. A few minutes later, he filtered out the melted water, poured it into the whiskey, and mixed it again. The spoon slid unceasingly between the ice cubes and the cups, but it didn’t make the slightest bit of noise.

Uncle Chen: Does the young lady know how whiskey is brewed?

MC: I’m not too clear on it… is it similar to wine?

Uncle Chen: For whiskey to become pulp from grain, it needs to undergo germination, saccharification, fermentation, aging, and six procedures of mixing.

Uncle Chen: For it to mature, it will take at least several years, going up to over 10 years.

Uncle Chen: Within this long period of time, no matter how expectant or how anxious the brewer is, or how much they’ve put their entire physical and mental effort into this, they still have no way of absolutely guaranteeing the taste at the end.

MC: Is that so?

MC: (Although, what does this have to do with Xia Yan?)

While I mulled this over, Uncle Chen had already finished adjusting the whiskey. He gently pushed it over.

Uncle Chen: The whiskey – please try it.

I held up the whiskey and took a sip gingerly. The alcohol that had ice added slid smoothly into my mouth, but the aroma didn’t weaken in the slightest bit. The oaky fragrance mixed with the grain’s sweetness.

MC: It tastes great! Uncle Chen, the liquor you’ve brewed really is too amazing!

Uncle Chen: I’m very glad you like it.

Uncle Chen: In fact, when this batch of whiskey was first completely brewed, it didn’t have this taste.

Uncle Chen: It tasted very spicy, its aroma was average – it could be considered a major failure.

Uncle Chen: But after leaving it for a month, it became the taste it has now.

MC: So it was actually like this? Why?

Uncle Chen: Because of light, the surrounding air, and temperature. Sometimes, these things that one must consider when preserving whiskey can instead end up bringing good changes.

Uncle Chen: A failure at one point does not represent one’s life.

Uncle Chen: Before reaching the end, the possibility of unexpected opportunities will always exist.

“Before reaching the end, the possibility of unexpected opportunities will always exist.” This was the same as the sentence written on that note from earlier.

MC: It sounds like you’re talking about wine, yet it also seems like it’s a philosophy that can describe one’s life.

Uncle Chen: The stories in wine naturally also have life to them.

Uncle Chen looked at me, his smile very gentle. I felt that he was implying something in his words - did Xia Yan encounter some sort of issue back then? But why didn’t he come see and talk to me? Instead, he hid from me…

I looked towards the whiskey beside Uncle Chen’s hand. On the glass bottle filled with amber liquor, Xia Yan’s expression was reflected, looking quietly at me. I met his gaze for a moment, and Xia Yan choked, coughing once.

Xia Yan: Ahem…!

Xia Yan: I just wanted to say, drink it slower…

MC: (Xia Yan…)

I was just pondering what to do next, when suddenly, the bar door was opened again. Uncle Chen looked at the person who’d arrived, then stood up very quickly to walk to the bar counter.

Uncle Chen: Excuse me – I must leave for a bit.

After Uncle Chen left, I looked towards Xia Yan again.

MC: Xia Yan, you said before that you came to Uncle Chen’s place to help because of a commission.

MC: Which means, it’s not related to work that needs to be kept secret, right?

Xia Yan: Uh… that’s right.

MC: (Since it’s not related, then it should be fine if I ask a bit.)

MC: Xia Yan, at the beginning of the year, did you encounter some kind of situation? So you…

Xia Yan: Nah, I just happened to not be there that day.

Xia Yan: Alright, we’ve already reunited now, so don’t worry about the thing from that day.

MC: …

This guy’s trying to change the topic again.

>Frontal attack >Guide patiently and systematically >Joke around

MC: (Xia Yan, you’ve forced me to use extraordinary methods.)

I deliberately put on my intimidating court trial expression.

MC: Don’t you know that you’re really bad at lying? Plus, you kept changing the topic in front of Uncle Chen!

MC: You’re not just lying with this – you’re even openly mocking my IQ!

MC: If this can be tolerated, what can’t be?

Xia Yan: I…

MC: Severity to those who confess. Even more severity to those who resist! Hurry and own up!

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan: Great Lawyer, I’m scared of you…

>Frontal attack >Guide patiently and systematically >Joke around

I shifted towards Xia Yan’s side.

MC: Xia Yan…

Xia Yan: What, what are you doing…

MC: Did you really take a day off that day?

MC: You’re not allowed to lie to me. Look straight at my eyes and talk.

Xia Yan: …

MC: Why did you hide from me? If you met with me at that time, we could have reunited earlier by a few months.

MC: Could – you – tell – me…

Tugging on Xia Yan’s arm, I gently rocked it back and forth with a face full of sincerity.

Xia Yan: You’re using this trick again…

>Frontal attack >Guide patiently and systematically >Joke around

I pushed the whiskey that Uncle Chen had prepared towards Xia Yan’s hand. Then, I leaned over, lifted the wisps of hair beside my ear, feigning an elegant air, and gave him a smile.

MC: Handsome brother, I’ve got wine – do you have a story?

I deliberately used a classic line.

Xia Yan: …

MC: Don’t stay silent – from one glance, you’re clearly someone with a story.

MC: How about we chat?

Xia Yan: Where did you learn this from…

I was just about to continue when Xia Yan suddenly angled his head towards the bar door.

Xia Yan: Ah, Uncle Chen’s returning!

I followed Xia Yan’s gaze. The guest from earlier had already left, and Uncle Chen was walking back, holding a document. Suddenly, a bell sound came from his body. Uncle Chen picked up the phone, and a few seconds later, he started to resentfully reproach the caller.

Uncle Chen: Do not call again!

Right after he said this, Uncle Chen hung up with indignation all over his face.

Xia Yan: …

MC: …

In astonishment, Xia Yan and I looked at each other.

PART 3

Bar L

After Uncle Chen hung up, he returned very quickly to the bar counter. He smiled at Xia Yan and I very apologetically.

Uncle Chen: Harasser calls – don’t worry about it.

MC: …

Did Uncle Chen run into some trouble? But would it be discourteous for me, someone who has just met him, to question him closely… I was just hesitating when Xia Yan asked him extremely directly.

Xia Yan: A harasser call won’t make you lose your composure like this. Did you run into some trouble?

Uncle Chen: Just a little issue.

Xia Yan: The document in your hands looks like a detective’s tracking progress for a report on work-related investigations.

Xia Yan: In the past few days, you didn’t just call me simply to have me come hang out – you had something that you wanted to discuss with me, right?

MC: (In the past few days, Xia Yan returned to the capital because of a command…)

MC: (Did Uncle Chen look for other detectives to help because of this?)

Xia Yan: “No matter what troubles a bartender has, when he’s behind the bar counter, he must have a professional expression. He can’t bring troubles to the guests.”

Xia Yan: I know this is your pride and persistence.

Xia Yan: It’s just that, as a detective, I want to investigate secrets when I notice them.

Xia Yan: So, I’d like to request the owner to take special care of the detective guest that likes to look for trouble that I am!

Xia Yan turned around and gently held up that bottle of whiskey on the table.

Xia Yan: Plus, I haven’t given a return gift for the unusually valuable gift you sent me before.

The past between Xia Yan, Uncle Chen, and this bar must run very deep. Though I still didn’t understand what had happened, I took over from Xia Yan’s words.

MC: As the saying goes, “three ignorant cobblers combined can surpass a genius”. If you need the help of a detective, Xia Yan’s the best of them!

MC: If it’s not a secret that’s hard to talk about, please talk about it with us. We might be able to help.

Uncle Chen looked at us, sinking into silence for a moment, then sighed.

Uncle Chen: It’s actually not something major – just a little upsetting.

Uncle Chen: Before, someone who I was familiar with borrowed some money from me, and signed the promissory note according to stipulated formats.

Uncle Chen: But last month, when I went to find him, he said that he has never borrowed any money from me.

MC: He denied it? But there’s proof.

Uncle Chen: So I sued him, and applied for a handwriting appraisal, but the appraisal results showed that the handwriting on the promissory note wasn’t his.

Xia Yan: Could it have been signed by someone else?

Uncle Chen: At that time, only he and I were in the shop.

Uncle Chen: Although… when it was time to sign, he told me that he wasn’t feeling well and had me help him by pouring a glass of hot water.

Uncle Chen: Now that I think about it, that was just an excuse. He took advantage of the opportunity to sign it with his left hand.

MC: With his left hand?

Uncle Chen: He was left-handed when he was little, and only changed after many years of rectification.

MC: Then did you do a handwriting appraisal with his left hand?

Uncle Chen: I also applied to do a left-hand handwriting appraisal, but the result was the same.

Xia Yan: Do you have the right and left hand handwriting appraisal documents here?

Uncle Chen: It’s here.

Uncle Chen found the right and left hand handwriting appraisal documents. Xia Yan and I carefully compared all the writing marks on it.

Xia Yan: Looking at the handwriting records of the appraisal documents, his left handwriting is, in fact, that of a novice’s.

Xia Yan: His pen marks are inaccurate, the places where he lifts the pen lacks strength, and the marks are crooked and shaky… all signs of lack of practice and inconsistent use of a hand to write.

Xia Yan: I’m afraid that he deliberately wrote this kind of font to trick the appraisal.

MC: He must be very skilled at using his left hand to be able to use it to write faked handwriting.

Xia Yan: That’s right.

Xia Yan: Since he’s thought up of tricks and plans to prove that he is no longer left-handed, then we’ll use his plan, that he used against others, against him.

Xia Yan: We just need to prove that he still can skillfully use his left hand for this appraisal to collapse on itself.

Uncle Chen: But there’s not enough time.

Time? I immediately reacted.

MC: After losing a trial, if one wants to change the verdict results, one must appeal within set time limits.

Uncle Chen: Yes, today is the last day of the time limit.

Uncle Chen: Before, I had other detectives follow him and investigate, but none of them noticed anything.

MC: (Uncle Chen felt that there was already no way out by now, so when we came in earlier, he didn’t bring up a single word about this…)

Uncle Chen: Good thing that the amount he borrowed wasn’t very large – it was within my bearable range.

Uncle Chen: Plus, suffering financial loss to avoid calamities might be a blessing in disguise.

Uncle Chen laughed kindly. He wasn’t comforting himself – instead, he was comforting us.

Uncle Chen: Let’s not bring up these disappointing matters on a holiday.

Uncle Chen: Weren't you two planning to pass New Year’s Eve here? For this year’s New Year’s Eve, I’ve prepared a lot of interesting activities –

Xia Yan: Uncle Chen, to give up now is to fall right into what he wants.

Xia Yan: I’m afraid that he purposefully borrowed an amount that you would be reluctantly willing to bear. He wants you to give up in the end, not wanting to make a big fuss over this.

As Uncle Chen was talking earlier, Xia Yan had already completely flipped through that detective’s tracking investigation report.

Xia Yan: I know that you’re worried that finding evidence within such a short time is too difficult.

Xia Yan: In spite of this, don’t worry.

Xia Yan: I’m the “Bartender Detective” who once solved a problem within the time spent preparing a glass of drink, after all.

Xia Yan: There are still a few hours before zero-o’clock – we’ll have more than enough time.

MC: Uncle Chen, when I heard you talk about the “Bartender Detective” earlier, I was very curious.

MC: Just view it as you giving me the chance to personally see Xia Yan as the “Bartender Detective”!

Uncle Chen: But that guy has already noticed how I had detectives follow him. He called me just now to ridicule me.

Uncle Chen: He’s definitely already prepared thoroughly. If you go now...

Xia Yan: Don’t worry. I actually think that this is exactly something we can use.

Bar Street

Xia Yan and I went towards the most popular bar on the bar street – “HOT&CLUB”. Even several tens of meters from the door, the music surging out from inside was still audible.

MC: According to the previous detective’s investigation, this is the borrower Cui Xu’s most-frequented bar.

MC: As soon as we submit an appeal, Cui Xu will receive a notice from court. He’s bound to be extremely careful – getting evidence will be very difficult.

Xia Yan: So we need to get evidence that he is left-handed before 12-o’clock tonight and then have Uncle Chen file an appeal.

Xia Yan: Cui Xu is a frequent guest of bars, and he’s very skilled at bar games like table tennis and darts.

Xia Yan: We can set up a situation to make contact with him, lead him into competing with me, and then collect materials with that.

MC: Competing?

When we were little, a relative bought a dartboard for Xia Yan and I. Unwittingly, Xia Yan then developed a habit of throwing darts to clear up his mind when thinking.

MC: Your darts technique is pretty good, but competing…

MC: And do you know how to play table tennis?

Xia Yan: Of course. Plus, I’ve never encountered a worthy opponent these past few years!

Looking at my surprised expression, he smiled.

Xia Yan: My work requires me to get in and out of all sorts of situations. If I want to be freely adaptable to changes, I naturally need to know a bit of everything.

Relaxing, I nodded. Since Xia Yan said that there are no problems, there will definitely be no problems. Thus, I changed focus, starting to think about ways to lead on Cui Xu.

MC: For Cui Yuan to be able to forge handwriting, he must have high anti-reconnaissance awareness.

MC: If we’re too deliberate with leading Cui Xu to compete with you, we’d instead arouse his suspicions.

Xia Yan: We have to make it deliberate.

Xia Yan winked.

Xia Yan: Cui Xu just called Uncle Chen to provoke him – he’s quite arrogant.

Xia Yan: What would he be like if he saw a deliberate and third-rate trap?

MC: So you plan to use this detail about him to perform a bout of “the mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind it”?

Xia Yan: That’s right.

MC: Then I feel like this plan can be optimized some more.

Xia Yan: How do you want to optimize it?

MC: I’ll be the “cicada”.

HOT&CLUB

Xia Yan and I walked into HOT&CLUB. The sound of drums was deafening, and the dazzling lights roved over the bodies of the dancing guys and girls. Xia Yan embraced my shoulders, guarding me within the crook of his arm. We walked in the sea of people while looking for Cui Xu.

MC: Found him – he’s over there.

I was just about to head over when Xia Yan suddenly tugged my wrist.

MC: Don’t worry, Great Detective.

MC: I’ve often done this level of acting before when going to get evidence – I won’t expose us.

Xia Yan: I know.

Xia Yan smiled, slowly letting go of my wrist.

Xia Yan: I just wanted to tell you that I’ll always be behind you, where you can see me just by turning around.

MC: Mhmm!

-- I faked an expression like something unexpected had happened and walked towards the bar counter, sitting down on the spot beside Cui Xu. I first looked for the busy bartender on the other side, then, as I flipped through the drinks menu, sneakily looked over the other guests’ cocktails at the bar counter.

Cui Xu: Is this the young lady’s first time at a bar?

MC: Uh… it is. You can tell?

Cui Xu: Of course. Just now, you were looking all over the place, with an expression like you were at a complete loss.

Cui Xu: Are you waiting for a friend?

MC: I was stood up by someone, so I came into the bar to pass some time.

Cui Xu: It’s such a waste for such a pretty face to be spent on anger. Here, I’ll treat you to a drink.

MC: I’m not too great with drinking alcohol – I’m just afraid of getting drunk right after finishing.

MC: I’ve heard that there are a lot of games in bars, and I’d like to try them first.

Without changing my tone or expression, I guided my conversation with Cui Xu, turning the topic to what Xia Yan said earlier – an activity that could expose that he was left-handed.

MC: I’ll probably not bother with dancing… too tired.

MC: Working every day is already so tiring. It’s hard enough to get an opportunity to relax, so I’d prefer a quiet and interesting game.

MC: Table tennis does look pretty cool, but there are too many people over there…

Cui Xu: Then how about darts?

MC: (That’s exactly it!)

I faked an ignorant expression.

MC: Ah, darts… I’ve seen darts competitions on television before, but I don’t really know how to play.

Cui Xu: No worries, I’ll teach you. My dart skills are the real deal.

As Cui Xu said this, he compared his thumbs, then stood up, leading me to the other end of the bar counter – where the dart machine was. I turned back, looking at Xia Yan, and he nodded at me.

PART 4

HOT&CLUB

Cui Xu: Right, you haven’t ordered anything since you came to the bar, yeah?

As Cui Xu spoke, he handed me a glass of “iced red tea”. The orange liquid was embellished with lemon slices, ice cubes, and mint leaves – bright and beautiful.

Cui Xu: I’ll treat you.

Cui Xu: This is a non-alcoholic cocktail, with a taste like iced red tea. It very much suits girls.

MC: Whoa, it looks very pretty. I can’t even bear to drink it.

MC: (As if anyone would believe it really is “iced red tea”…)

I hadn’t even been able to refuse it yet when Xia Yan’s voice sounded behind me.

Xia Yan: Using a Long Island iced tea to trick girls – that’s way too tasteless.

Cui Xu: Tch…

Cui Xu “hmph”-ed coldly, turned around, and slowly looked over Xia Yan.

Cui Xu: What nonsense are you talking about? Wanna start something?

Xia Yan: How could this be considered wanting to start something?

Xia Yan: This is a bar, after all. You’re not the only one who wants to strike up a conversation with a beautiful lady.

Xia Yan: Although, my method of striking up a conversation is – to find an opportunity, and to act handsome.

Smiling, Xia Yan sent a glance over to me, his expression reckless and brash. I, who had just led Cui Xu through the plan skillfully and easily, felt at a loss for a moment.

MC: …!

Xia Yan casually took the darts in my hand. His fingertips brushed over the back of my hand, somewhat rough and slightly warm. The dart spun in his fingertips, looking like a flower, becoming a sharp tip in flight. Xia Yan looked at Cui Xu across from it, his expression very provoking.

Xia Yan: How about we compete in a round?

Cui Xu poked at his eyebrow, then disdainfully sounded out a “heh”.

Cui Yuan: “501”, double entry.

Xia Yan: Sure.

After he finished speaking, Xia Yan no longer bothered with Cui Xu. He turned around to “strike up a conversation” with me.

Xia Yan: Beautiful lady, do you know how points are recorded in dart competitions?

MC: Uh… I’ve seen a few competitions.

MC: The dartboard is split into a total of 20 divisions. Accordingly, the numbers on the dartboard are all different. Each are marked from 1 to 20 points.

MC: The two narrow circles on the dartboard are individually for double and triple points. It’s like this, right?

Xia Yan: You’re pretty knowledgeable about it. What a pity – I’d wanted to give you an explanation.

MC: Hahaha…

MC: (When we were little, I saw you play it so many times and accompanied you in watching so many competitions. How could I not remember…)

MC: Then could I trouble you to explain “501” and “double entry”? I’m not too familiar with these…

Xia Yan: The so-called “double entry” game requires you to hit the double-point area to start recording points, and it requires you to hit the double-point area to win the competition.

Xia Yan: As for “501”, each person’s starting points are 501 points. The accumulated points increase or decrease based on the dart throws.

Xia Yan: Each game has 20 rounds, and you can throw 30 darts in one round. The first person to lower their points to 0 is the winner.

MC: 20 rounds? So won’t you have to throw 60 darts?

Cui Xu: How could we let the beautiful lady wait that long! Nine darts is enough.

MC: Nine darts?

Cui Xu: This is the fastest, and simultaneously the hardest, way to win a dart competition – “Nine dart collection”.

Cui Xu walked behind the throwing line.

Cui Xu: Using nine darts is just three rounds to take the points from the original 20 rounds.

Cui Xu: The world’s first double entry nine dart collection was achieved on October 8, 2011, at the World Darts Championship’s semi-finals.

Cui Xu: Brendan Dolan vs. James Wade.

Cui Xu: Back then, the score count that Brendan Dolan achieved in the first round was –

He threw out a dart –

Cui Xu: D20.

Bam! – The dart stably struck the 20-point double point area.

Cui Xu: And then – T20, twice.

Following Cui Xu’s voice, two darts successively struck the 20-point triple point area. He turned around, raised his chin at Xia Yan, his lips curving upwards in a completely taunting way.

MC: …

Xia Yan met Cui Xu’s gaze indifferently and just laughed. He walked up to the throwing line and held up the dart very casually.

Though Xia Yan had said before that he had never met a worthy opponent until today, the skill Cui Xu just showed…

MC: (No, Xia Yan is definitely even more amazing.)

I silently stayed firm with this belief in my heart. Suddenly, a whistle sounded not far from me.

Xia Yan: Beautiful lady, why are you zoning out?

MC: !!!

Maybe it was because Xia Yan had poked at my focus on my worries, maybe it was this frivolous tone of his, but my heart was suddenly in a panic. I met Xia Yan’s gaze – in his expression, there was a defiance and brashness I had never seen before.

Xia Yan: If you don’t watch me, then no matter how handsome I look when winning, it would be all pointless.

The roving lights in the bar dyed Xia Yan’s figure with a hint of unruliness. In this moment, this figure that I was unmatchably used to… seemed to be somewhat unfamiliar.

Xia Yan’s mouth hooked upwards.

Xia Yan: Just like that. Don’t look away.

MC: …

Xia Yan’s voice seemed to carry a strange magnetic force, sucking my gaze to his body with no way to look away. Only then did he smile and return his gaze to the dartboard.

Xia Yan: If you want to pay respects to the classics, then be more thorough.

Xia Yan: Back then, the positions of Brendan Dolan’s first round of darts were –

Xia Yan: D20, in the middle, leaning left.

Xia Yan: T20, right.

Xia Yan: T20, left.

Three darts consecutively flew from Xia Yan’s hands.

Bam bam bam – the darts plunged stably into the positions he just mentioned. Cui Xu held back the taunting on his face.

Cui Xu: … Kind of interesting.

Cui Xu: Looks like we can play a little high today.

With a flick of his right thumb, the darts were thrown high into the air. Right after, his left hand grabbed in the air, and the darts smoothly slid between his fingers, a cycle of points between his five fingertips.

MC: …!

Here it is – I held on my phone, silently opening the video screen. The second round started, and Cui Xu stood again behind the throwing line. He threw faster and more precisely with his left hand than with his right – the areas that the three darts successively fell stably into were – T20, T20, T20. Right after, the third round – T20, T20, Bullseye. After the three rounds, Xia Yan and his opponent had completely struck off 501 points.

But we already got our evidence.

MC: (Awesome! Next, we need to remind Uncle Chen to submit an appeal.)

Cui Xu: Now, don’t you need to find an excuse to leave and have the old man submit an appeal, beautiful lady?

Cui Xu fiddled with the darts in his hands, looked at us, seeming to smile, but also seeming to not smile.

Cui Xu: It must have been that old man who had you two search for evidence off of me.

Cui Xu: He really knows how to make trouble – even found two detectives.

Cui Xu: Did you two think that I would relax my guard just because today’s the last day of the appeal validity period? Haha.

He took out his phone, waving it in front of Xia Yan’s and my faces – 0:10.

Cui Xu: 10 minutes past midnight. The time to appeal has already passed.

Cui Xu: Your dart throwing was pretty good, but I won.

Just as Cui Xu finished speaking, we heard Xia Yan laugh lightly.

Xia Yan: They didn’t set up a clock in the bar because they wanted to let guests forget about the meaning of time after coming in.

Xia Yan: So if you want to look at the time, you’d rely on your phone.

Xia Yan took out his own phone, tapping at it a few times. Cui Xu’s phone screen suddenly blacked out, and in two seconds, the numbers on it had changed from 0:10 to 23:30.

Xia Yan: But things like phones are way too easy to hack.

Xia Yan: The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind it.

Xia Yan: The people executing a ruse aren’t just you alone.

Cui Xu: You rascal!

Cui Xu’s complexion suddenly paled, and he rushed at Xia Yan.

Bang! Xia Yan raised his arm – I couldn’t see his movements at all, I just saw Cui Xu directly tumbling over in the space between us.

Cui Xu: Ahh!

PART 5

Street

After, Xia Yan immediately contacted Uncle Chen to have him submit an appeal online.

Xia Yan: Alright, smoothly resolved!

Xia Yan: Let’s head back. It’s nearly zero-o’clock, and the New Year’s Eve activities at Uncle Chen’s place –

When he mentioned Bar L, Xia Yan suddenly stopped.

MC: What’s up?

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan carefully looked at me a few times, his expression evasive – just like how he was at Bar L, when I asked him exactly if he had been at the bar on that rainy day. I couldn’t resist laughing.

MC: Are you afraid that I’ll ask you about… if you were at the bar that rainy day?

MC: Alright, I won’t ask anymore.

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan froze for a few seconds.

Xia Yan: Weren’t you really curious before…

MC: I’m still pretty curious now. But…

I looked towards Xia Yan and smiled.

MC: Everyone has matters that they don’t want to tell others.

MC: This is especially so after we grow up.

The closer people are, the harder it is to talk about certain matters, so a lot of people choose to go to bars to talk to strangers. Though in the past, Xia Yan and I were always so familiar that we were like a single person without any secrets between us, we’ve now grown up. After growing up, there will be boundaries. Forcing him to tell me his thoughts and forcing him to accept my help were also a sort of wrong. If I were to question him in the pestering way like when we were little, it would be a severely EQ-lacking action.

MC: …

MC: I’m sorry. Earlier at Bar L, I even questioned you…

MC: I didn’t realize at that time…

Before, Xia Yan urged me to not join NXX, but after I made my determination known, he respected my decision. This time as well – he clearly would have been fine on his own, but he considered my thoughts and let me help out. Xia Yan has always considered me, and has always respected my decisions. I’m all too clear on this mindset of his.

So, even if he had some things that he didn’t want to tell me, what’s the big deal?

Though it was just like before – as long as I kept trying, Xia Yan would not reject me – the more it was like this, the more I had to have a sense of measure. Otherwise, I’d put him in a difficult position.

MC: In the future, for anything that isn’t easy for you to talk about, I –

Xia Yan: It’s not like that!

Xia Yan suddenly grabbed onto my hand, holding it with force, his hands grasping my knuckles.

Xia Yan: There’s nothing that’s inconvenient for you to ask.

Xia Yan: Whether it’s the whiskey matter, or the rainy day matter – you can ask about anything you want to know about.

Xia Yan: None of my matters are inconvenient for you to ask about.

Xia Yan: There is no boundary between us.

MC: Xia Yan…

Suddenly, he seemed to have become aware that he was holding my hand with too much force, and hurriedly released it.

Xia Yan: Sorry, I held your hand with too much force… I probably hurt you.

Xia Yan looked at me, his gaze trembling slightly.

He went silent for several seconds, and finally, slowly opened his mouth.

Xia Yan: I…

Xia Yan: I just… was embarrassed to tell you…

Xia Yan: I didn’t want to let you know… that I once wanted to avoid you.

MC: Avoid me?

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan: I was afraid that I would bring… trouble to you.

Xia Yan looked at me, his eyes full of guilt and unease.

MC: Was it because of the NXX issue? At that time, you had already started investigating related events yourself, right?

MC: Were you afraid that meeting me would get me involved in danger?

Xia Yan didn’t respond, like he was agreeing silently.

I tugged on Xia Yan’s arm, having him face me wholly.

MC: What relation do we have between us?

MC: Even if there’s danger, I want to face it with you.

MC: If on some day in the future, you truly encounter a hard problem that I can’t accompany you in facing, then I’ll wait for you to return.

MC: Remember this well – everything about you isn’t trouble to me. It all has extraordinary significance!

Xia Yan: …

As we spoke, snowflakes like little diamonds fell down from the sky, one landing precisely on Xia Yan’s eyelash. His pupil seemed to flicker with a small light.

Xia Yan: Mm, I’ll remember it.

MC: You also have to remember that, compared to trouble, compared to danger, compared to anything else, what I fear more is that you… won’t be here.

MC: Where you are by yourself, if you’re living alright, if there are things upsetting you, if there are people who can share your burdens… I’ll be very worried…

MC: So you must promise me, from now and in the future, you can’t think about escaping from me again.

I looked firmly at Xia Yan, putting on an imposing manner like if I didn’t hear a definite answer, I would swear to not give up. Xia Yan looked at me and laughed lightly.

Xia Yan: I swear, now and in the future, I will never think about escaping from you again.

Xia Yan: I will do all I can to always, always accompany you.

Xia Yan spoke unusually solemnly – even more solemnly than I had expected. His clear eyes reflected the fluttering snowflakes.

MC: …

MC: That’s right!

MC: In the future, even if you want to escape to the ends of the world, I’ll still drag you back!

Xia Yan: Yep, I have no doubts about that!

Bong bong bong –

The bell from the clock striking zero-o’clock sounded. Innumerable brightly-colored fireworks lit up the faraway night sky for a while.

MC: It’s zero-o’clock!

Xia Yan: I’m sorry – blame me for taking up time.

Looking somewhat upset, Xia Yan looked at the fireworks in the faraway night sky.

Xia Yan: What do you want to do now? There should still be some final New Year’s Eve activities going on at Uncle Chen’s place, although it’ll take some time for us to rush there.

Xia Yan: Or we could go to the center plaza to look at the fireworks show? It’ll be closer that way.

MC: Mm… forget it, I don’t want to go to either place now.

MC: I feel like it would be pretty nice if we passed New Year’s Eve here.

Innumerable fireworks in the distance soared up, then fell down. Xia Yan’s and my spot definitely could not be considered a suitable viewing location, but I felt extremely happy. Compared to how you pass New Year’s Eve, what’s more important is who you spend New Year’s Eve with. At this moment, I really just wanted to stay like this with only Xia Yan for a little while longer.

MC: Xia Yan, how about we just slowly walk a bit back to Uncle Chen’s place?

Xia Yan: Sure. Here, give me your hand.

Xia Yan held my hand in his, putting them together into his coat pocket. Just like it had been every winter, his palms have always been so warm – holding his hand was like holding a little sun.

Xia Yan: Alright, Xia Yan-brand hand warmers have turned on!

Xia Yan: Now we can go.

MC: Wait a bit, Xia Yan.

I haven’t said my New Year’s blessings to Xia Yan yet.

> Happy New Year! May you be happy every day. > May everything go your way and you accomplish everything you set your heart to.

MC: Xia Yan! Happy New Year! For this new year, may you be happy every day!

Xia Yan: With your blessings, I’m sure that I’ll be happy every day for this year.

Xia Yan: You too – Happy New Year. May you be happy every day.

MC: With a Xia Yan-brand little sun, is it even possible for me to be unhappy?

Xia Yan: You’re absolutely correct! I’ll definitely ensure that you are completely happy every day!

> Happy New Year! May you be happy every day. > May everything go your way and you accomplish everything you set your heart to.

MC: Xia Yan! For this new year, may everything go your way and you accomplish everything you set your heart to!

Xia Yan: I’ve already accomplished what I’ve set my heart to.

MC: Huh?

Xia Yan: You too - for this new year, may everything go your way and you accomplish everything you set your heart to.

PART 6

Bar L

Xia Yan and I returned to Bar L. Xia Yan said he had to do some cleanup on the video, so he had me wait a bit at the bar counter. Not long after, I heard the sound of familiar footsteps behind me.

MC: You were pretty… fast?

I angled my head around, seeing Xia Yan, now in full bartender attire.

MC: Xia Yan, this is?

Xia Yan: Several months ago, I disappointed a certain very important guest because of my error.

Xia Yan: So I made a request of Uncle Chen just now…

Xia Yan: To let me become that guest’s exclusive bartender tonight to properly make it up to her.

Xia Yan: Alright, young lady, what would you like to drink?

MC: For this, I’ll have to think carefully about it!

I pondered for a moment.

MC: I heard earlier from the owner of this place that you have a liquor that very much suits you.

MC: I’d also like to request this handsome bartender to prepare a cocktail that suits me best!

Xia Yan: It’s a task with some difficulty.

Xia Yan: But as your exclusive bartender, I will definitely satisfy you.

Xia Yan: Please wait a moment.

Xia Yan placed a cocktail glass in front of me, then took a bottle of wine from the wine shelf.

Xia Yan: First, pour the chocolate liqueur into the wineglass.

Xia Yan: Then, gently float a layer of fresh cream on top of the liqueur.

Following the back of the spoon, the fresh cream slowly infused itself in the glass’s contents. Right after, Xia Yan stuck a cocktail pin through a dark red cherry, stacking it on the glass rim.

Xia Yan: Angel’s Kiss – please try it.

MC: What a romantic name – why is it called that? Is it because the cherry is like a pair of lips?

Xia Yan: There’s another important reason.

Xia Yan: Young lady, please take the cocktail pin and soak the cherry into the liqueur, then gently take it out.

Complying with his words, I dipped the cherry into the liqueur, then took it out. The cocktail stirred up, and the fresh cream floated into swirls, like a small pair of lips.

Xia Yan: This is the Angel’s Kiss.

Xia Yan: It’s said that after drinking it, an angel will transfer your thoughts to the person you care about.

Xia Yan: I feel like this is the cocktail that suits you best.

Xia Yan’s voice became unusually gentle.

MC: …

After finishing his work, Xia Yan went into the bar’s inside room to change clothes. Completely concealed behind the door, Uncle Chen faced the girl waiting at beside the bar counter.

Uncle Chen: Angel’s Kiss – just like Cupid’s arrow, shot into the hearts of lovers.

Uncle Chen looked at Xia Yan, smiling meaningfully.

Uncle Chen: On an important day, if you drink a glass of Angel’s Kiss, the god of love will definitely transmit your feelings to the person you yearn for day and night.

Uncle Chen: It really is a drink that’s extremely well suited for her.

Xia Yan: …

Uncle Chen: I’ve been thinking all day about the conditions that she came in for the first time, at the beginning of the year.

[Flashback]

The beginning of the year…

The noisy sounds of rain were shut outside by the heavy oak door. When guests pushed open the door to come in, the clamminess of water vapor blew in.

Uncle Chen: There are quite a lot of guests on rainy days. You’ve really worked hard.

Xia Yan: You’re looking at this as an outsider – I don’t feel like I’ve worked hard at all.

As they spoke, the oak door was opened again.

Xia Yan: There’s another guest coming –

Xia Yan: …!

It was [MC]. Even if they were separated by a room full of guests, even if it was just a back view, he could still recognize that figure easily.

Uncle Chen: What’s wrong, Little Xia? Do you know that girl?

Xia Yan’s mouth lightly trembled, out of his control.

Xia Yan: I’m sorry, Uncle Chen…

Xia Yan: Can I trouble you to serve this guest…

Xia Yan hastily left the bar counter.

Uncle Chen: …

Uncle Chen looked deeply at the girl by the door. She had just closed the door and was turning around, walking to the bar counter.

After closing that day, Xia Yan carried out closing tasks in behind the bar counter. After everything was properly tidied up, he slowly sat down behind the bar counter, looking at that empty seat in front of him.

Xia Yan: …

Hearing footsteps behind him, Xia Yan swiftly stood up.

Xia Yan: Uncle Chen, I’ve completely tidied up this area. If there’s nothing else, then I’ll leave first.

Uncle Chen: Wait a bit, Little Xia.

Uncle Chen called out to Xia Yan and held up the whiskey in his hand.

Uncle Chen: If you don’t have anything to deal with for the next while, how about accompanying me in drinking a glass?

Uncle Chen: I’d like to invite you to help me try this bottle of alcohol.

Uncle Chen poured the whiskey into two glasses, then handed a glass to Xia Yan. Xia Yan took a light sip.

Xia Yan: The taste is very good, and the texture is extremely gentle.

After hearing this, Uncle Chen smiled.

Uncle Chen: Every time I drink it, I’ll think about the taste that this batch of whiskey had right after brewing.

Uncle Chen: It was completely different from now. Its texture was very spicy, its aroma was average – it could be considered a complete failure.

Uncle Chen: I didn’t think that after some time, the taste would become good.

Uncle Chen: So, if a matter hasn’t reached an end, one cannot give up, because the possibility of unexpected opportunities will always exist.

Xia Yan: …

Uncle Chen gave a wooden box to Xia Yan.

Uncle Chen: Wine and life are both like this.

[Flashback end]

Uncle Chen faced the girl at the bar counter, then turned his gaze back to Xia Yan.

Uncle Chen: There’s actually another saying about whiskey.

Xia Yan: You really have a lot of sayings for your alcohol.

Uncle Chen: Even if it’s the same kind of wine, it will have different meanings to different guests.

Uncle Chen: Someone who can deliver drinks to guests that are most suited for them is qualified to be a bartender.

Xia Yan: Then what do you want to say this time?

Uncle Chen: Hemingway once said: “There are two matters that you must absolutely not hesitate about. You must do them immediately.”

Uncle Chen: “Kiss a beautiful girl, or open a bottle of whiskey.”

Xia Yan: … Thank you.

Xia Yan tilted his head towards the person who was waiting for him at the bar counter. She was freely looking over the various kinds of alcohol behind the counter with interest.

Xia Yan: I need to wait a bit longer to open that whiskey bottle.

Xia Yan: I’ll wait until there are no impurities at all. I’ll wait until the day when I truly have no secrets from her.

Xia Yan: At that time, I will open it without hesitation.

-END-

#tot translation #tears of themis #weiding shijian bu #未定事件簿 #xia yan #夏彦 #I know nothing about darts #so there’s a 99.99% chance that the dart terminology is all wrong #anyways #Pls I can’t #I love xia yan so much #happy new year #!!

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davidmann95 · 4 years

Note

Hey David? Why is ours such a cruel and merciless God?

mirrorfalls said: (If you don't know what I'm talking about, your inbox should be filling up with more specific deets riiiiight about now.)

cheerfullynihilistic said: THE SNYDER CUT

Anonymous said: You don’t seem to think Superman’s public rep will take another beating from the Snyder Cut coming out. Honestly I thought you’d be way more upset than you seemed on Twitter.

Anonymous said: So uhh, against all thoughts and logic the Snyder cut is being released? Maybe as a mini series? Thoughts?

Anonymous said: SNYDER CUT!

Bullies. Jocks. Guys angrily asking if we know who their father is. Assorted dudebro nerd-oppressors of America:

You have failed us. You have failed us so hard. What else do we even keep you around for if not to head this shit off at the pass? Shame on you.

Okay, so seriously: I’m actually gonna put most bitching and moaning under a cut, because I know firsthand there are as many as several non-slavering maniacs out there who dug Man of Steel and Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice and who are simply and entirely reasonably excited that they’re getting this movie after all. I don’t feel like throwing a wall of text at them shitting all over this, so I’ll lead off with I think some fairly even-handed commentary on the real-world circumstances here, rambling speculation regarding the production, and some cautious optimism about the actual movie/s. THEN I’ll get to what I imagine most of you are here to see.

So totally in a vacuum: this is a cool, good thing. I’m the notorious theatrical Justice League-liker, but at best it was a compromised product due to the original creator - who like it or not clearly had an incredibly ambitious personal vision for these characters and their world - suffering a horrific tragedy forcing him off the project, and leaving his final stamp on blockbuster culture and a world he’d devoted years of his life to a flop with his name on it when he couldn’t even truly call it his own anymore. At worst, said tragedy was taken advantage of by suits to ditch him in the home stretch so as to try and shove out something ostensibly more marketable. But now because of a...very loyal fanbase, the man’s getting the opportunity and resources to rise like a phoenix and see at least some of his vision through in a huge way. That’s pretty remarkable.

Not in a vacuum this is fucking horrifying. I’ve already seen folks poo-poohing the reflexive fears that this will ‘set a precedent’, and they were right enough that I deleted my initial tweet on the subject because I didn’t think I could express my own opinion with any nuance in the space of 280 characters. Yeah, nerd whining definitely shaped Rise of Skywalker (another movie I enjoyed in spite of the circumstances of its creation). Hell, Sonic the Hedgehog crunched its CGI team prior to unceremoniously firing them to redesign his model thanks to outcry. That’s already a market force, and just to be clear upfront, if we can’t agree the predominant mode of operation for #ReleaseTheSnyderCut has been a toxic nerd harassment campaign when they spammed posts memorializing deceased actors and chased Diane Nelson off Twitter, we’re not gonna be able to have this conversation. And director’s cuts are you may have noticed also already a thing. But this isn’t changing direction on a project that’s already going to exist no matter what, this is turning back 3 years later on a commercial flop and dumping tens of millions of dollars into it, explicitly in response to that harassment campaign. It’s not *actually* going back and, say, remaking The Last Jedi, but by god to the naked eye it’s gonna be as good as for plenty of fanboys, and probably to some shortsighted execs as well. This is a new thing, and in this context it is a very, very bad one. Hopefully one that won’t amount to anything.

As for the movie itself: what the hell is this thing going to end up being? I assume with this sort of cashola being pumped into it we’re not getting any slapdash greenscreen or storyboarded sequences, but four hours? Is it really just going to be an expanded and revised version of what we saw in theaters, or is this including content that would have been in the originally planned Justice Leagues 2 and 3? My understanding is that those were already compressed into a single Justice League 2 before plans collapsed altogether, were they maybe filming side-by-side and this’ll be the whole shebang? If not is Snyder going to hedge his bets and end this on a clean note, or keep it ending on a cliffhanger in hopes HBO will throw another $250 million his way to keep going? Does DC want to keep going? Would they give into fan pressure on releasing after all what was widely publicized as the first film of a duology or trilogy with dangling threads if they weren’t going to be at least watching the numbers to see the feasibility of returning to this in a bigger way? Not that I think WB execs would piss into Snyder’s mouth if he were dying of thirst at this point if he simply asked to be able to do Justice League 2, but if he floated that if they instead just give him a liiiiiiiitle more money he can finally deliver unto them their very own Avengers - one that they can work on even during quarantine since it’s mostly just VFX work left - and hey if it works out he’s got a sequel or two cued up and ready to go? Maybe they look at their scattered plans and say the hell with it and end up giving this a theatrical release and sequel with Snyder holding the reigns again if this ends up a killer app; stranger things have happened, if not many, and somehow this is already happening in the first place after all. Alternatively, if this succeeds, could they go “thanks and good on ya, totally do another, but it’s gonna be an HBO exclusive so you’re only getting a hundred million, figure it out”? Would Ben Affleck return? How much reshooting will he be willing to commit to even for this? And most importantly, since this is potentially going to be serialized as six ‘episodes’, will We Got This Covered count this as another ‘win’ since their bullshit rumor mill algorithm spit out “Justice League HBO TV show” recently?

As for the project itself: I ain’t subscribing to HBOMax for this bad boy, but once it becomes more widely available I can’t claim I won’t probably watch it. It’s basically a new movie about the Justice League, and if there’s anything I WOULD wanna see Zack Snyder do in the DCU, it’s the movie finally moving past pseudo-realism (aside from some of those dopey costumes) and leaning all the way into godlike superbeings bludgeoning each other through continents. I absolutely wanna see his aesthetic take on the Green Lantern Corps, and New Genesis, and time travel, and all the other weird promises of where his movies were going to go climaxing in a ridiculous super-war across all spacetime. It’s the same reason J.G. Jones was an exciting choice for Final Crisis before he had to leave, seeing a guy known for his work in an ultra-real grungy superhero style starting there and building up to seeing his version of absolutely wild cosmic spectacle. And no, to respond to one of the initial asks, I’m not worried about the impact on Superman. Everyone seems to have accepted this is its own distinct thing whether they like it or not, I think him getting to complete his ‘arc’ will quiet down many of the folks who like to yell at every other version as retro nonsense since now they’ll be able to be smug about having had the best take rather than pining for a lost finale, and I’m not interested in further Superman movies at the moment anyway with Superman & Lois in the pipe (which I was originally paranoid would be endangered by this when rumors first started floating, but if it’s been brewing since November then if they wanted to strike that down to ‘make room’ according to their Byzantine ever-shifting rules, they would have by now). Far as I’m concerned, as long as the other DC movies get to keep doing what they’re doing during and past this - even Pattinson in his corner, however that works - then totally let Snyder work out all his Wagnerian superhero bullshit for another flick or two. If nothing else, maybe we’ll learn what the hell that diagram up there is supposed to mean. And a plea I want to clarify upfront is wholeheartedly sincere: we’re already down the rabbit hole, so let Snyder to literally whatever he wants with his non-theatrically released Justice League. Zero input or veto power from outside parties. If he wants Flash to hang dong or Superman to say fuck or Batman to learn he’s Steppenwolf’s secret dad or Cyborg to learn he needs to eat babies to fuel his machine parts, let him go for it. Whole point is this is now his thing for people who want his thing.

Okay, beneath the cut the filter comes off, so go ahead if that’s your jam.

Hahahahahahaha this is gonna be such a fuckin’ shitshow you guys, Jesus Christ.

They’re giving the dude who did BvS and wants to make an Ayn Rand adaptation someday $30 million to take another crack at this monstrosity! 30 goddamn million smackaroos for four fucking hours of by many accounts roughly the same basic movie, except now presumably with what little coherency, fun, and clean character work the theatrical cut managed to pull off excised in return for weighty staring, ponderous pseudo-philosophical musings, hackneyed symbolism, aimless mythology teasing, and Steppenwolf I understand being decapitated by Wonder Woman at the end rather than taken back to Apokolips. I didn’t even spoiler mark that shit because don’t you dare pretend you care about the fate of Steppenwolf. I won’t have it.

I used to wonder if I was indeed missing the forest for the trees with these movies, that I was so inflexible in my personal image of these characters - even though I appreciate plenty of alternate takes on them and even some stories that bend or break what I consider their ‘rules’, just not these - that I was incapable of grasping or appreciating these films on their own merits as works of art using those archetypes in wildly different ways; even I could see there were good moments and interesting ideas on display despite seemingly failing to come together. No matter how much I personally deconstructed how and why it wasn’t working, I couldn’t do it to my own satisfaction to the point of stamping out that niggling little worry with how many folks whose opinions I respect love ‘em. Until I finally remembered that the Cadmus arc of Justice League Unlimited is totally the same basic story as BvS, centrally driven by an even worse take on Superman, and that’s still one of the best superhero stories of all time. These just stink by any merits, and while I think Justice League absolutely has the potential to be the most *entertaining* of the bunch, it’s not going to magically become *good* in the eleventh hour. Not to lift up Joss Whedon of all people as some kind of savior, I’m on the record that my love for Justice League as-is is some kind of inexplicable alchemical accident, but I promise that there is not going to be one single addition to this movie that’s going to make up for the removal of “Just save one person”.

Also I’m already not looking forward to dudes tweeting “whoa, he’s splitting it up into a serialized narrative, reflective of the sequential nature of the characters’ primitive native pictorial medium! Or mayhap in ode to the pulp film adventure serials which inspired those in turn! Even the Justice League children’s cartoon for dumb babies, which was itself...made up of episodes! That’s three references in the structure of the thing alone! The man’s operating on an entirely different level!” “God, isn’t it amazing how much better he understands the source material than you”, they shall say, about a man who I understand just very confidently referred to Doomsday in his livestream as having destroyed Krypton in the comics. Again, don’t you say they won’t, just the other day I saw folks tweeting they just realized that since Jor-El wears armor over his bodysuit that technically means Superman’s whole costume is underwear which means Snyder’s totally honoring that without putting him in ugly dumb red panties so checkmate, dorks.

(Okay, in fairness, I know Snyder was saying that’s his take on what happened to the moon in the past of the movies and maybe I only misheard that he thought that also happened in the comics, and it’s trivial information anyway. Still sucks though, that seeming out-of-nowhere Jax-Ur shoutout was like the one thing I liked about that otherwise interminable Krypton sequence. And why is there a second Doomsday? You did Death of Superman already!)

And further SPOILER thoughts below on the reported plots of 2 and 3:

It’s also an amazing, perfect sort of narrative synchronicity that the hypocrisy of Man of Steel in presenting Superman as a savior would (will?) be matched by the movies also rejecting that promise long-term. In there, Jor-El’s musings on the capacity of every living thing being capable of good, the closest the film has to a singular moral statement, are proven wrong when Zod has to be put down like a mad dog, and rather than the one who’ll bring us into the sun, Kal-El’s presence draws ruin from beyond the stars to our world. And again in BvS with Doomsday. And again in Justice League 1-3, where in spite of claims by Snydercutters that it’s okay for Superman to be a really lousy take on Superman because it’s totally supposed to take several movies after putting on the costume and calling himself Superman, including his own death and resurrection, for him to really, like, become Superman, man, he remains a liability to the end. His death lures in Steppenwolf, the Kryponian matrix in his genes is Darkseid’s goal, he becomes the villain of the first act of Justice League 3 - possibly of his own free will depending on which version you’ve heard about - and at the final showdown, it’s Batman who sacrifices himself to stop Darkseid and save the world and inspire the rise of superheroism, because Batman, you see, rules, whereas Superman, stay with me here, drools. A letdown given BvS was just about the one major story of the last 30 years to unambiguously conclude Superman is better than Batman, but not a shocker. None of what I understand goes down in these - iconography from the likes of Fourth World, Crisis on Infinite Earths, Death and Return of Superman, Rock of Ages, Final Crisis, and Injustice reused but stripped of all context and thematic weight that gives it meaning (even Injustice is built on the premise of having a ‘good’ Superman to contrast the dictator); Lois being the ‘key’ because of her connections to two men, one she married and one she bears; time travel that even by the very generous suspension of disbelief applied to it in a genre like this operates by two obviously completely different sets of rules in its only two uses, and is then used to write the entire second movie of the trilogy out of continuity in the first act of the third, making one and a half of these movies pointless - is shocking. It’s just more empty notions and unfulfilled promises offered up to a fanbase staking everything on the idea that all the tampering, all the wild swings, all the meandering, it’s all building UP to something, not possibly just a dude who doesn’t understand these characters but wanting to look very clever with them before building up to one more rad punch-up. So yes, make these movies. Let what can be gleaned from them as worthwhile be revealed, leave the rest of it up for examination to be judged as it deserves and let it, finally. Finally. Be done.

#Justice League #Snyder Cut #Zack Snyder #DCEU #Worlds of DC #Superman #Man of Steel #Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice #Superman & Lois #DCTV #Analysis #Opinion

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 25 of 83 : World of Sea

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 25 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

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Mord breathed a huge sigh of relief. Sarfin held up his hands, and the Longin’s Captain held his thanks.

“Not done yet. I know that some sailors have been telling him tales about what happened to the last two who were cast off, because he asked me if it was true that they drowned when the rafts were stored back on the bottom. I had to say yes.

“If you give the boat and all to the fleet, to give him, then when he sees where it came from, perhaps he’ll know he’s not been wholly abandoned.

“If you feel that you can’t do that because of the ‘your boats’ provision, the fleet can provide it all, but you’ll have to pay for it.”

Mord felt some measure of peace settle over him. “A good boat and all that is necessary will be delivered to the Dorton in two, or at most, three hours.”

Barad stood, delighted that, for once, all had gone as he planned. Mord pointed to him. “I cannot tell you how relieved I am to see a solution to this problem. The Grandalor stands ready to help now that I can see a way clear to do so. I will give a sun cooker and good pots to help save this young man who’s so important to you.”

Mord could only accept. It triggered a breaking wave of similar contributions. The water maker, blankets, fishing gear, including a small drag net that could be used while under way, even the provisions, and candle-lanterns with candles. All that Mord could do was accept. As Barad intended, all of the mixed gifts would serve to hide the origins of Silor’s help. The Council broke up. Relieved Captains went to their errands of mercy.

The shadows were beginning to lengthen as Silor, arms aching from being tied, watched a pile of supplies being made at the western boat landing area of the market rafts. Sailors that he recognized as being from the Dorton delivered a day-cabin fishing boat and began to load and stow the pile of things in an organized and efficient way. The little boat was being fitted for a long journey.

Captain Sarfin approached over the slightly rolling deck of the raft, and spoke to him. “Silor, lad, you ran aground so hard that you may never float on the safety of water again, but we are going to give you the chance.” Hope flared within him. I’m going to the Dorton! thought Silor as Sarfin cut his bonds with a Strong Skin tooth knife.

His hopes were dashed by the next words that he heard. Sarfin was pointing at the boat that he’d just watch get fitted out. “You’ve spoiled things here so bad that no ship will take a chance on you. The Council, however, agreed that you have done nothing to die for, unlike those two murderers before you. The Pallant fleet is about a thousand miles west. This boat and its equipment ought to get you a berth, with a clean parchment. If you are not a fool there, as you were here, you should be alright. If you are seen in these waters again, I am afraid it will not go so well for you.”

Sarfin carried Silor’s duffel, while Silor massaged the circulation back into his arms. They went to the boat. The market crowds pulled back around them, giving them space. As if I have the fire-cough, Silor thought.

Just then Kurin ran up. “Captain Sarfin, I just finished this. It is for you. I would appreciate it, if it you gave it to Silor before he goes. Thank you.” She turned on heel and ran, white hair blowing back in the wind, tears on her cheeks. She could not outrun the sorrow of losing yet another that she had known all of her young life. Even if he had not been the best friend, he had been there, a shipmate. It left a hole that hurt.

Kurin had put a knife into Sarfin’s hands, The handle, sticking up from the scabbard, was made of laminations of four different colors of nacreous shell, shaped to fit the hand perfectly and glowing with purples, reds, blues and greens in the late afternoon sun. A dot of ivory at the end of the handle showed that the tang ran the full length of the handle, making it as strong as it could be. The scabbard was of hard, pebbly, armor-scaled Wing Ray hide, finished to a high polish. When he pulled the blade out of the scabbard, it was the slightly curved, fourteen inch, naturally serrated fang of a large Wing Ray. It was the hardest, toughest material known for knives, and honed to a razor edge. It was scrimshawed with a scene of the Great Sea Dragon, Blind Mecat, helping the First Folk to build the First True Ship. On the other side was a two part scene. The first half showed Cat, in human form, preparing to dive from the Wedding Rafts, with the Dragon Moons overhead and the Great Sea Dragon, Dark Iren, waiting while his Orca Whales sported about the rafts. The second part of the scene was the same rafts and moons, but two Great Sea Dragons, the black Dark Iren, and the white Blind Mecat side by side, Orcas leaping about them.

“If you give me that,” said Silor, in a rage, “will throw it overboard! I don’t want anything that Dragon-witch has made! She’s the only reason that all this has happened to me!” His eyes were wild and there was spittle flying from his mouth as he finished. A fair sized crowd had gathered, drawn by his outburst.

Sarfin looked at him sadly. “Son, if you think that, you have run hard aground on the reef of folly and are sinking fast, but you won’t drown. Your wits are so far onto dry land that they will never see safe water again. This knife would have bought you a fleet of boats such as this, with all the gear thrown in. I’ll give it back to her. Somehow.” He heaved a sigh, and put Silor’s duffel into the boat.

As Silor got into the boat, Sarfin added, “If you really don’t want anything from Kurin then step over the side and swim. She asked Captain Mord to do something. He pulled together the Council that got you this.” He gestured at the boat.

Casting off the stern line and then the bow line, he pushed the boat free of the docking area and said, “Sail west, young man.”

One of Sarfin’s aides found him and handed him a note, explaining, “The Grandalor is going to test some new sails and rigging. They plan to sail south until moons-fall and then return. With this easterly breeze, they should have a simple reach each way. It’s just a confirmation. Captain Barad told me about it a little before this Council meeting.”

Sarfin read it, nodded, initialed it and handed it back. “File it. It’s not important. Oh, reminds me, enter this into the ledger and reserve the main square for noon, two days hence. The Grandalor’s crew wants to do something in public.” He gave his aide a small fistful of scrip.

Silor’s little boat could be seen making good time, straight west, toward the lowering sun. The sails of the Grandalor could be seen, through the multitude of masts, yards and rigging between, going away, straight south.

Chapter 8: Visits

Kurin, with the permission of Captain Mord, went to spend the night aboard the Dark Dragon. There, she got a small surprise. She found the fierce Captain Sula sitting cross-legged on a cushion in a cabin hung with tapestries and woven decorations. Like most of the crewmen and women that Kurin had seen when she came aboard, Sula was wearing a light colored hood whose eye openings seemed molded to her face, keeping them perfectly aligned. A small bump in the fabric showed Kurin that Sula’s tongue was in the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on a piece of Longin Lace, making careful notes as she tried to unravel it.

Kurin couldn’t help herself. She giggled. “You can’t do it that way. Hundreds of expert weavers have tried, and failed for something like fifteen Gatherings. Besides, that is the Iren’s Orca pattern, absolutely the nastiest one that I make.”

Sula looked up, startled, “You make this? I am the head of the Corlis fleet Weaver’s Guild, and I am amazed by it. We have nothing similar. How do you keep all of the different spacings so neatly?”

“I will show you. There are two rules. One, don’t let anyone in the Naral fleet find out how you do it and two, call what I show you, and any other patterns made by the same tools and methods, Longin Lace. Cat taught me to make it, and I don’t share it out to just anyone. In our Weaving Shop, only people who won’t marry off the Longin are taught how to make it.”

“I am honored,” said Sula, bowing her head, hands together, fingers pointing down. “Why do you chose me?”

“You are strong, in more than muscle, and not afraid to be a weaver too. You remind me of Cat. She would do any task that needed doing. Also, I want you to show me your ship, so that I can learn how it was made. I have never seen a catamaran ship before.”

“I will be delighted to show you my ship. I am proud of the Dark Dragon and would have shown you without the incentive of Longin Lace or tales of Mecat. — — So the Dragon herself showed you how to make lace?”

“That and much else. As I told you and Huld, she was my mentor for most of a Gathering.”

“So, what do we need to make this lace?” asked Sula, leaning back on a large cushion, exposing the odd scabbard on her right leg to Kurin’s view. It was still filled by the strange looking ax that Kurin had seen earlier. “I will have it brought, bought or made.”

“You will need a dozen very small netting needles, — I will show you the pattern — a cushion, firm, with a hard back on one side, longer than it is wide, a lot of bone pins, fine and polished, and writing skin —” The two women put their heads together and began to work, the sea Captain learning from the child. As they worked, Kurin told Sula of her time with Cat and what she had seen and heard. Sula listened intently.

“Sula,” asked Kurin, as they took a break to stretch fingers, stiff from the lace-work, “If you came all this way to hear these things, shouldn’t you write them down?”

“Huld does write what you say as you say it,” said Captain Sula, regarding Kurin with curiosity. “I have no need to do so. What you say is word perfect in my memory. I have never been able to forget anything that I see or hear. It is one reason why the Corlis fleet chose me to come. I will write it all down, never fear.”

Kurin nodded acceptance of Sula’s statement and asked a question that was bothering her from the time that she had seen the young sailor Lenhe respond so violently to the attempt to unmask her. “Sula, how violent are your people? You go armed everywhere and your sailors are either armed or have several empty scabbards. I saw a sailor of yours named Lenhe beat up a man far bigger than herself. He was just playing about at grabbing her mask and if she’d had her ax in the scabbard, I think that she would have killed him.”

Sula regarded Kurin carefully for a moment before replying, “I heard about that. Mistress of Armory Culark told me about it. Lenhe was fully justified in her defense against face rape but should not have gone so far out of control. She is only a tailor’s apprentice, not some skilled warrior. To any of the Winternight born, face rape is one of the few things that we will kill to prevent.

“To answer your question though, we are not a violent people. We have had to defend our host fleet in three unprovoked wars, so we do train and keep our edge. We also follow the Meditations of Dark Iren to find and hold our inner peace.”

Kurin looked up sharply at Sula and said, “You worship Dark Iren, the Dragon of Death?”

Sula made a sign in front of her face and told Kurin, “That was a smile. No, we do not worship the Dragon of Death. We follow the Meditations of the Dragon of Life. Dark Iren kills nothing but the fish that he eats. His task is to take our lives and reweave them into the web of all life on Sea. Another time I will be happy to tell you more.

“I spent the afternoon inquiring about you. You are something of a legend, yourself. You learn new things at a prodigious rate. Every Craft aboard the Longin would be willing to have you as an apprentice. Several, Clard, Master of Drums, Cirde, Master Weaver, Mistress Daeron of the Rope Walk and Juris, Master Boat-builder, have said that you are fully qualified in their Crafts.

“I wonder — Do you ever forget what you hear or see?”

TO BE CONTINUED

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#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 25 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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goingoverthegardenwall · 5 years

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Chapter 6: Lullaby in Frogland

Let’s look back. Way back. Back before the dawn of animation, before the dawn of film, well before Ruby or Spears or Disney or Iwerks or either Fleischer Brother. Back to 1835, in a town named Florida in a state named Missouri when a boy named Samuel was born.

Like Ub Iwerks, Sam was raised in Missouri. And like Max Fleischer, Sam’s family took a financial hit when his father’s work stopped (this time due to a premature death rather than the decline of tailory), giving Sam a practical approach to employment. He left school at age eleven to become a printer’s apprentice, then moved to his older brother’s newspaper as a typesetter and occasional columnist, writing humorous articles and drawing cartoons. But unlike Beatrix Potter or the animators we’ve covered, visual art wasn’t in the cards for Sam.

He moved to the East Coast to work for other papers, bouncing between cities before returning to the midwest to embark on a career he’d dreamed of since he was old enough to dream: piloting a steamboat. He thrived on the water, and kept writing about his work along the river, but everything stopped when the Civil War closed off the Mississippi. So Sam headed west to work for the same brother who once ran the newspaper, now a politician in Nevada (I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that this brother was for some reason named Orion). Sam tried mining, and it didn’t take, but he’d gotten pretty good at writing and set off for San Francisco to get back into his jocular brand of journalism.

It was here that he had his first success, a short story published in his paper called Jim Smiley and His Jumping Frog. But, like a certain frog we’ve covered in this series, Sam wasn’t huge on permanent names. Within a month, the story was reprinted as The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, and Jim Smiley’s name was changed to Jim Greeley. Until the book version came out, when it was changed back to Jim Smiley. And this whole time, within the story, it’s a mystery whether Jim’s real name is actually Leonidas (it turns out that it isn’t, but it might be). None of this should come as a surprise for Samuel Clemens, who wrote under the names of Josh, Thomas Jefferson Snodgrass, and most famously, Mark Twain.

“I knew you were special.”

Over the Garden Wall is, among other things, a story about the importance of solid communication. After five episodes spent building up our heroes as a group of friends, all it takes is one episode of terrible communication to throw it all away. The specific issues vary, despite leading to a similar result of not verbalizing their thoughts very well: Greg’s youth stops him from articulating his rapidly changing ideas, Wirt’s anxiety leaves him too timid to speak up or too rambling to be clear, Beatrice’s true intentions make her obfuscate the truth, and Jason Funderburker straight-up can’t talk. Or so we think.

This time he’s named for American statesmen George Washington and Benjamin Franklin, which fits the continuing vintage Americana vibe of the series—while I figure it’s a coincidence, it should be noted that Mark Twain’s Jumping Frog was named after American statesman Daniel Webster. Surrounded by other frogs that walk around and wear fancy garb, our frog is more anthropomorphic than ever, standing on his hind legs and dancing along with Greg. But it’s still a shock to hear him open his mouth and sing, a shock that soon cedes to the realization that the frog playing the piano at the beginning of the series is singing the Jack Jones song in the montage that follows.

Lullaby in Frogland is Jason Funderburker’s episode through and through, so much so that it’s the first time we hear of his namesake, Jason Funderberker. This is an episode where Wirt rejects Greg’s assertion that their frog is “our frog,” a plot point that’s paid off in their last conversation in the series. This is an episode where Greg wonders aloud if he can be a hero, sees the frog set off on a diverging path immediately afterwards, and accepts it, because he’s willing to sacrifice his happiness for the good of others. And it’s an episode where the frog returns after a harrowing betrayal, showing that even when all seems lost, there’s still room for hope. Over the Garden Wall (the song) might not sound like a traditional lullaby, but it soothes us into a cold night as the sun sets on the first half of Over the Garden Wall (the show).

Adelaide’s true nature is foreshadowed by Beatrice’s sudden hesitance to bring the brothers to the pasture after several episodes of nagging, but the twist is made tragic by Wirt finally letting his guard down enough to be happy. He sings a completed Adelaide Parade with Greg and joins the dance before collapsing into the most earnest laughter I’ve ever heard in a cartoon. He’s a good enough friend to notice when Beatrice is “uncharacteristically wistful,” and takes a risk by playing the bassoon instead of just giving up. He’s still got growing to do—it’s one thing to blame Greg for getting them in trouble by throwing away the ferry fare and forcing them to sneak aboard, but another thing to literally shout “Take him, not me!” when confronted by the frog fuzz—so it’s clear that his journey isn’t over yet, but he doesn’t even get a full episode of peace before everything blows up.

The whole steamboat sequence flows between simple delights, like saluting the captain mid-chase, the revelation that the frogs love music more than they hate trespassers, and the repeated gags of three gentlemen frogs snatching up flying flies and a frog mother dropping her tadpoles. Everything just feels calm, even when antics are afoot. Wirt gets to save the day with his bassooning, Greg gets to feel rewarded in his knowledge that his frog is special, Jason gets to sing a song after being silent throughout the series, and Beatrice seems, for now, to come to a sort of peace about things after several clear attempts to sidetrack the boys. This is the only episode to feature two major stories instead of one, but the steamer segment is rich enough to feel like a full episode. If only we could’ve stopped here.

All roads lead to Twain when it comes to depictions of steamboats as a go-to American icon, which is why he preceded this discussion of Lullaby in Frogland: I’m not claiming Mickey Mouse wouldn’t have been successful if his first cartoon was about something else, but I’m certainly claiming that we wouldn’t have gotten Steamboat Willie as it was if Ub Iwerks hadn’t grown up in a Missouri whose lore was shaped by Twain’s tales of the river. But while the author is the root of the episode’s many influences, I think the most fascinating branch that we borrow from is The Princess and the Frog.

2009 was a great year for animation, seeing the release of Coraline, Fantastic Mr. Fox, The Secret of Kells, the surprisingly great Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, and the first ten minutes of Up (also the rest of Up, if I’m feeling generous). The first two on that list are my favorite of the year, twin stop-motion masterpieces that I’m always in the mood to watch, but The Princess and the Frog is a brilliant last gasp from Disney’s 2D animation studio. It isn’t the final traditionally animated film they made (that would be 2011′s Winnie the Pooh), nor the final fully sincere princess movie they made (that would be 2010′s Tangled), but it marks the beginning of the end for both trends: for better and worse, modern Disney animation feels the need to loudly subvert old tropes and wouldn’t be caught dead in two dimensions.

Lullaby in Frogland’s connection to The Princess and the Frog is certainly visible on the surface level: both feature a long sequence starring frogs on a steamboat where a lead character must pretend to be another animal and play a woodwind instrument to get out of a jam, and both involve our heroes seeking help from a wise woman far from civilization (even if only one of these women is actually helpful). But it’s the somber nostalgia factor that binds these stories closer than anything, the knowledge that this is the end of the road for this type of tale. The ferry’s gotta land somewhere, and the cold is setting in as the frogs begin hibernating for the winter, but there’s still more story to tell.

The second story of Lullaby in Frogland is scored throughout by a haunting string and piano rendition of Adelaide Parade, and Adelaide herself is immediately captivating. John Cleese returns for the second episode in a row, but as both of these episodes aired the same night, it feels like a consistent through-line: in the first half, he’s an eccentric who might be a deranged maniac but is actually harmless, and now he’s a witch who might be harmless but is actually a deranged maniac.

Adelaide gets a compelling amount of detail for someone who’s barely in the show. We don’t get any explanation about her fatal weakness to...fresh air? Coldness in general? Either way, like the Wicked Witch of the West’s lethal reaction to water, it’s absurd that someone like her has managed to live this long. She never says what she needs a child servant for, why she has scissors that seem custom-made for Beatrice’s specific curse, or what her spider-like deal with yarn and wool is (she has a black widow hourglass on her back, but also reminds me of the Greek Fates with her emphasis on thread). We never find out how she’s connected to the Beast, whose theme bleeds into her music as she proclaims, without much prompting, that she follows his commands; her goal of using children as zombie slaves seems counter to his goal of turning them into trees to fuel his soul lantern. But this blend of unexplained characteristics and seemingly inconsistent motives only makes her more enthralling to me, because she feels like the major villain of another story who just happens to intersect with ours.

What makes Adelaide even more compelling on rewatch is that her scissors, despite their gruesome method for curing the curse, do end up working. Which means she did mean to help Beatrice out as part of the deal. At no point does Adelaide lie, and given Beatrice knows she’s bad news as she lures the brothers in, it becomes clear that for all her villainy, Adelaide is an honest witch. I’m always down for baddies that tell the truth, but it’s of particular interest when we compare her to the Beast, whose whole deal is lying.

The only liar in this episode is Beatrice, even if she wanted to set things straight without hurting anyone; she values her friendship with the boys so much now that she’d rather make herself a servant to Adelaide than just tell them she’s dangerous and reveal that she lied. By the time she’s willing to tell the truth, it’s too late, and not even saving Greg and Wirt by killing Adelaide is enough for Wirt to forgive her. Considering he knows in The Unknown that the scissors he uses to escape the yarn can save her family, he was also listening in on the end of the conversation before entering the house, which means he must have heard that she was willing to sacrifice herself, but that doesn’t matter either. Beatrice gave the boys hope, and no matter how badly she tried to stop it, the encounter with Adelaide transforms Wirt. Where he was once nervous and unsure, and was then briefly optimistic, he’s now sullen and untrusting.

But again, in comes Jason Funderburker, croaking and hopping on all fours once more to bring some light to the darkening series. He doesn’t do much for Wirt, but allows Greg to quickly get over whatever trauma he had about getting webbed up in yarn; he’s remarkably quiet about it, but it’s important to remember that he was betrayed, too. Whether he doesn’t understand exactly what happened or is just quicker to forgive, Greg is fine with Beatrice, allowing us to focus harder on Wirt’s reaction from now on.

It’s all rain and winter for Wirt until the end of his adventure. But the show isn’t content to leave him even slightly forlorn: when it gets too dark, he has a frog to swallow a lantern to light the way, and when it gets too cold, he has a brother to cover him in leaves, and when he falls, he has Beatrice to help pull him back up. Even the Woodsman tries to save him in his own way (talk about folks who are bad at communication). Bad things happen, and people make mistakes, but the bigger mistake is allowing that to close you off to others, or to never forgive friends that are genuinely sorry. Our heroes have taken the ferry to the other side, and now the story can shift to one about the folly of abandoning all hope.

Where have we come, and where shall we end?

On top of Jason Funderberker, who’s set up as a major rival to make his eventual reveal one of the show’s best jokes, Wirt gives Beatrice a general summary of Into the Unknown three episodes before we see it play out.

#lullaby in frogland #over the garden wall #otgw #steven universally #mark twain #the princess and the frog

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atlas-the-worldbuilder · 5 years

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So! It’s that time of year again, magik is in the air, and monsters are prowling the streets. Time I say we share a good old-fashioned halloween folk story!

Before I begin, let me first clarify a few things. Firstly, this is an old story; the fable has roots in Ireland, and has been around at least several hundred years. As such, several different versions of the story have cropped up, so if you’ve heard a different version of the story, do not fret. For this telling, I’ve selected the iteration of the story which I personally feel is most faithful to the characters and the natural flow of the story itself. Secondly, this is a story with deep cultural and religious ties. Being an Irish folktale, of course, there’s going to be a heavy mix of Christian/Catholic themes alongside more abstract pagan beliefs. I myself say you’re more than welcome to believe whatever you wish, but for those of you who get offended easily by mentions of religion, you may wish to forgoe reading this tale.

That being said, let’s begin this story about a terrifying being who stalks the night every year! Though you probably know him already, in one form or another~...

THE TALE OF STINGY JACK

So! Our story begins a long, long time ago, in a small Irish town - more specifically, the pub of the old Irish town. Sitting in the pub, drinking to his heart’s content, was a man known to the local residents as “Stingy Jack”. Stingy Jack was known around town for many reasons; as the nickname suggests, he was rather cheap and selfish, and was very much known for his avarice and... generally being an all-around jerk to people. However, he was also known for being a rather shrewd and tricky individual; he could always find cash around when he needed it, or ‘convince’ some poor stranger to part with some change.

Another thing Jack was known for was being the town drunkard, and presently he was living up to that reputation. On this particular day, though, Jack had run into a bit of a problem. He had just finished his mug, and was going through his pockets to pay for another, only to find he did not have enough! He cursed to himself, and idlely grumbled, “Damn... I’d sell my soul for one more beer.”

So just imagine Jack’s surprise, when who should happen to hear this plea... but the Devil himself!

The Devil pops into the pub, and takes a seat next to the rather surprised Jack. “So I hear you’ll sell your soul for one more drink, eh?”, the Devil asked, smiling with that devilish grin of his. “I think I can help with that! If you agree to give me your soul, I’ll give you enough change for a final drink at the bar. What do ya say, Jack?” Now Jack, as we covered, was many things - a cheater, greedy, and selfish among them. But one thing he was most definitely not was a fool; he recognized at once that making a deal with the Devil would end up with his desires being twisted or convoluted. But rather than doing what most people would do and decline, Jack decided to try his luck at out-swindling the swindler. “I got a better idea,” Jack replied with a sly grin. “If you turn yourself into a coin, I’ll spend you for my last drink for the night. Then you can change back to normal, and cheat the bartender out of his payment! What do ya say?”

The Devil chuckled aloud. “I like the way you think!”, he confided, and with that, he promptly turned into a gold coin to be spent. However, Jack instead took the devil coin, placed it inside his pocket, and held it against a crucifix he had in his pocket! Unable to shield himself from the sacred icon, the Devil began to shriek and shout. “Please! Stop! It burns!”, the coin shrieked in agony. “I’ll do anything you want, just take it away and set me free!” “Ok then,” Jack replied with a victorious smirk, “I’ll let you go if you promise that I won’t go to Hell when I die!” “Sure, fine!”, the devil cried in pain. “Just let me go!” Jack smiled, and tossed the coin away. The Devil disappeared, and Jack had got his wish.

For the rest of his mortal life, Stingy Jack indulged himself in the most deplorable of activities. He murdered, he stole, he drank, he performed just about every sin and crime in the book. After all, with no worries about where he would end up, he had nothing to fear anymore!

When Stingy Jack’s death finally came to pass, there were more than a few among the townsfolk who were grateful to be rid of his debauchery. Jack’s soul left his body with an air of smug joy, and followed the path to heaven, ready to indulge himself in his afterlife. However, as he approached, the gates remained locked. Confused, he approached the gatekeepers and asked why he couldn’t go to heaven.

“Your soul is too wicked,” the gatekeepers said. “We cannot accept you here.” “I can’t go to Hell, though,” Jack countered confusedly. “Doesn’t that mean I go to Heaven?” Again, the gatekeepers refused him entry due to his wicked soul.

Jack tried again and again to argue his point, but each time was steadfastly refused. Stunned and confused, Jack reluctantly turned away from heaven and began to follow the path. Without a place to rest, his soul wandered the dark, mysterious realm between Heaven and Hell... the Other Side. For months he wandered, trying to process the gatekeeper’s refusal while avoiding the unearthly shapes and ominous sounds hiding all around him. Finally, though, it dawned on him... the afterlife wasn’t all or nothing, as he had believed. Heaven was only a place where the goodhearted could reside; because he had lived his life with selfish and greedy intent, he could never truly gain the enlightenment and peace that realm offered.

Somewhat defeated, Stingy Jack trudged back along the path, down to the only place he had left... the very place he had declined access to...

When he finally arrived at the gates to hell, a familiar face greeted him, his smile full of savage and cathartic schadenfreude. “Well, well, well! Look who comes crawling back to me!”, the Devil gloated with a cackle. Jack knelt down. “Please,” he begged, “I understand now, and I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I just... I need a place to rest. I can’t stay out here, so please let me take back my wish?”

The Devil frowned in thought; while he wasn’t particularly eager to have someone like Jack in his domain - especially after the horrible backstab he’d received -, it seemed somewhat unfair to let the swindler go empty-handed...

With a vile smirk, the Devil grabbed a burning hot coal from the ground at his feet. “Here, this should help light your way!”, he called out as he tossed it over the gate. “Careful, its hot!”

As Jack caught the burning coal, a couple things happened. Firstly, his hand was severely burned, as the coal seared his skin, and he screamed. Secondly, the hellish energies and magik from the coal began to mutate and warp his body. His body twisted and stretched, as Jack was transformed into a freakish entity, daemonic energy radiating from his once mortal body.

With the Devil’s laughter ringing in his ears, Stingy Jack slunk back into the darkness, clutching the coal. Rejected by heaven and hell, he spent what felt like an eternity wandering the dark, twisting, foreboding lands of the Other Side. All the while, he held the searing hellfire coal in his hands - too painful to squeeze it tight, but too afraid of losing it forever to let go. After all, it was his only source of light and warmth, in the darkness. And it likely would’ve remained that way, but then Jack gained a small reprieve.

Whether it be through sheer determination or from some bizarre supernatural strength granted by his transformation, Stingy Jack managed to hold onto that burning coal until a very special day came. That day, of course, was All Hallow’s Eve - Halloween. A day when the mortal world and the Other one start to grow closer together, and the monsters and strange beings from the Other Side start to slip into our world to explore while they can. Jack, too, managed to cross over, and made it back to his hometown under cover of night.

But he didn’t come to relive the old days, or to apologize to the townsfolk he had wronged; Jack only had a short amount of time before he would be forced to return to the darkness. He only had one goal: finding something to carry the coal in, so he wouldn't be pained any longer.

So he stumbled through the night, still clutching the eternally-burning coal in his hand. After several hours of lurking through the woods, he found his way into a farm, where he found a collection of freshly-harvested gourds. He picked a small one, carved a hole in the front and top, hollowed it out, and tied it up with some rope to carry it. Then, he dropped the coal in, and carried it like a lantern, managing to complete all this before slipping back into the darkness.

And this is how he got his name, “Jack of the Lantern”.

The ending of this story differs from telling to telling. Some like to think that old Stingy Jack has taken this new opportunity to redeem himself, and has taken up the role of a gatekeeper himself, keeping the monsters from the Other side from causing trouble and guiding them back at the end of every Halloween. Others like to think that Jack has only became even more vile and cruel after his transformation, and now lives for the pure enjoyment of the suffering of others, be it mortal or monster. Unable to sway from his sinful and sadistic past, and now with the powers of a daemon, he has truly become the most monstrous of monsters.

And then there’s those - myself included - who like to take a more benign middle stance: having made peace with his past mistakes, Jack is nowadays just an incurable prankster, living to cause a good scare once in a while, making him not much different than the monsters he walks amongst.

Whatever you believe, the end result is the same. Jack has earned a reputation among the monsters of the Other Side as a being whom is best not to provoke. And this reputation is the reason we carve Jack-O-Lanterns every Halloween: to scare away monsters by tricking them into thinking that Stingy Jack’s lurking around. When a monster sees the carved pumpkin, glowing with the light of a flame, they take notice and give it space.

So keep yourselves safe this Halloween, friends. And if you happen to see a Jack-O-Lantern on its own in the woods... ...run.

#Halloween #scary story #atlas the worldbuilder #Story Time #jack o lantern #Stingy Jack #folklore #storytelling

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royaltealovingkookiness · 5 years

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Here I am with some Ba Sing Se fluff for the Day 4 prompt: Mentor. (fun fact, I started to write this for Zutara month, back in December - well, it’s finally done) @zutaraweek Read on AO3 or below.

“So that’s the house where we had this dingy little apartment on the second floor. And this landmark here is Pao’s teashop,” Zuko pointed at a small building with green lanterns.

Katara tried to imagine him walking these streets, shaggy hair sticking in every direction, white apron tied to his waist. The mental image was alluring. She wanted to know everything.

“Can we go inside?”

Zuko shook his head. “If a nice Upper Ring girl wants to go slumming in the Lower Ring, you might as well do it properly. Shu Long Noodles is the place.”

“Really?” Katara grimaced. A noodle shop did not sound nearly as exciting as Zuko’s old place of employment.

Noting her skepticism, Zuko raised his eyebrow. “Who is the local here, you or me?”

It was funny to think of one of the most powerful people in the world as local to one of the worst slums, but strangely, it was true. Sharing the life of the poor working class was an experience that shaped him into the man he became; someone caring and compassionate.

Katara followed Zuko through the labyrinth of old, shabby buildings until they came to a storefront that looked like it hadn’t been painted in years.

“Don’t let appearances deceive you,” Zuko smirked and after some haggling with the owner he secured them a table in the back patio which was surprisingly pleasant, lit with warm lanterns. The menu was short, but the noodles were rather delicious.

“Not bad,” Katara admitted slurping on the long delicious strings of pasta.

“Uncle swore by this place.” In Zuko’s eyes, Iroh was the unquestionable the culinary expert. “I even took my first date here.”

Katara couldn’t hold back a surprised squeal. “You? Date?”

“What? Is it that inconceivable that I would have a date?” Zuko pouted playfully, but Katara saw the shadow of real hurt in his eyes as his hand darted to his scar involuntarily. Katara cursed herself.. Of course, that’s not what she meant, but also, inevitably, that’s how he took it. She was on the edge of ruining the exciting undercover expedition she managed to talk Zuko into as a welcome change of pace from the peace conference.

“Tell me about her,” she tried to redirect his thoughts.

“She was really cute.” There was a fond smile on his lips. “I was so nervous - umm, trying to remember all of my Uncle’s advice?”

Imagining awkward, grumpy Zuko trying to entertain a date based on instructions made Katara giggle. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah.” Zuko scoffed. “You know how I said Uncle taught me everything? With that I mean everything. Even things I’ve never ever wanted to know about,” he added in a low voice to make it very clear what kind of things he meant.

Katara almost choked on her noodles imaging Iroh giving Zuko what Gran-Gran called the bee-talk. “It must have been bad.”

“Mortifying. He insisted on making my hair too. I looked like a monkey. Then told me nice girls wanted to hear fun stories about how great you are. And that winking helps,” he laughed in embarrassment.

So?” Katara nudged him.

“So I told her that I travelled with a circus and juggled,” Zuko grimaced like there was more to the story.

“How did that work out?”

“Not well. I broke the soy-sauce jug on my head when she asked me for a demonstration,” Zuko admitted, scrunching his nose.

Katara now was laughing so hard that the entire restaurant was watching them.

Zuko scowled at her. “You are making a scene.”

“You have to tell me more.” She took a long sip from her cup.

“Well, there is nothing else to tell. She took me to this fountain. The end.” He put down his napkin and asked for the bill.

“Zuko,” Katara watched him with a calculating smile.

“Let me guess, now you want to see the fountain,” he sighed.

Lightheaded from the rice-wine, Katara giggled.

“Yeah, you promised me all the landmarks. What’s more exciting than first-date fountain?”

They walked through more narrow alleyways with owl-cats prowling, looking for rats and laundry hung across balconies. They stopped at an unremarkable dark square.

“That’s it?” Katara asked trying to mask her disappointment. It didn’t look like anything really.

“Well, it’s pretty when it’s lit up. Actually, when I came here with Jin, it was like this. And she was so disappointed that I lit it for her,” Zuko explained.

“So you outed yourself as a firebender?” Katara asked incredulously. It was incredibly dangerous and stupid. But also a little bit romantic. Actually more romantic than she ever imagined him to be.

“I made her close her eyes,” Zuko glared. “Anyways, I felt like an incompetent, babbling idiot the whole night. There was finally something I knew I could do right...”

“I bet she was impressed,” Katara looked at him fondly.

“She tried to kiss me…” he said quietly, kicking a pebble with his foot.

“And?”

“What do you think? I freaked out and gave her a voucher,” Zuko blurted out.

That sounded pretty terrible even for someone as hopelessly awkward as Zuko. “A voucher?” she giggled.

“For tea,” clarified Zuko needlessly. “Uncle said it was a good back-up plan - give her a reason to come back. Something about dipping your stick in the river twice?”

She frowned. “Eww. I’m pretty sure that’s not how it goes.”

“Possibly.” Zuko conceded. “He gave me detailed advice about wooing ladies. Like very detailed advice,” he repeated with a pointed look. “I think I started to dig a mental hole and bury myself when he got to…”

Katara’s covered her ears with her hands and squealed. “Stop! I don’t want to hear it.”

As fond as she was of Iroh, she really didn’t want to hear the old man’s advice right now.

“You see? My point. So now you know how I felt,” Zuko laughed nervously.

Awkward silence descended on them. Katara kept nervously tugging her hair behind her ears. Zuko stood stiff and unsure of what to do. It felt like intruding on a different date at a different time. Wait? Who said anything about a date? They were not on a date, they were just two friends exploring. But Katara also found she felt a bit jealous of this girl who got to see Zuko like that - just a regular, sweet boy, not carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, trying to make his date happy with silly stories and romantic gestures. She desperately wanted to get to know that boy. Or maybe she already knew him.

“So will you light it for me?” Katara asked a bit breathlessly.

Zuko looked at her amused, but nodded. “Stand back.”

He took a deep breath and with impossibly fast movements he sent tiny sparks aimed at the lampions hanging around the stone structure. The flames dancing on the water transformed the place. It was magical.

“Wow. I didn’t know you could do that,” she noted.

“It’s a specific skill-set that’s pretty much only useful here,” Zuko shrugged. “I think Uncle had me train it for so long, because it was something relatively harmless.”

“It’s pretty,” Katara waved at the fountain. “Like water and fire harmony.” It sounded awfully corny, but then again her date was not the king of smooth. Not a date. Or maybe it was. Or could be.

“Zuko,” she said in a husky voice, stepping closer to him.

“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly, staring at her lips.

“If I kiss you, you won’t freak out and give me a voucher, will you?” Katara murmured, lightly touching her hand to his cheek, her thumb caressing the edge of his scar. She could feel his pulse quicken, mimicking the drumming inside her chest.

“Luckily, for you, I’m fresh out of vouchers…” Zuko rasped. “I might even kiss you back,” he added shyly.

Watching him, she lifted her face, touching her lips to his lightly. He closed his eyes, his face almost reverent as he drank in her kiss. She pulled back a little. He dived back in, this time really tasting her. Katara lost herself in the sensation of his lips, tongue and hands.

They jumped apart breathlessly, at the sound of someone clearing their throat reproachfully.

“The youth these days; they have no sense of propriety,” an old lady grumbled loudly; her remark clearly aimed at Zuko and Katara.

“But look, my dear, the fountain is lit. Isn’t it a wonderful sight?” he husband hooked his arm in hers and patted her hand, giving them a playful wink. Old school.

Zuko grabbed Katara’s wrist. “Come, I haven’t showed you my favourite place yet.”

“Where is it?”

Zuko pointed towards the rooftops. “Best view in Lower Ring. And quiet.”

#atla #atla fanfic #zutara fanfic #brusselssprout writes #Zutara Week 2019 #prompt: mentor #zuko #katara #iroh #eew uncle #date night

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heythatpenguinhere · 4 years

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Reflection

*Hey hey angsty fanfic lovers, this one is for you! This story is dedicated to anyone that has ever struggled with their self-image or insecurities and has begun their own journey of self love one day at a time. I hope you all enjoy <3

Mirrors reflect simply what is seen before them, that’s what they have always done. Mirrors were common and many people had mirrors in varying sizes, but the mirrors in the palace of Katolis seemed much larger in comparison. In Rayla’s suite, for example, stood an oval silver-trimmed mirror at the corner of the room. When she had first settled in, she had thought nothing of it at all but another trivial human adornment. Now, it seemed to be placed there to torment her and mock her.

The first time she had used the mirror was to simply do her hair. Her hair wasn’t ever really messy per-say, but at times her braids tended to undo themselves or she might want to comb through the locks of white to tidy them a little. As she stood in front of the mirror and began to gently work on fixing the small braid on the side of her head, her eyes had lightly roamed to her face a little. Comparatively to other elves, Rayla was pretty normal in appearance. Her lavender eyes were a bit larger than most and her skin a bit paler in complexion, but even Moonshadow elves varied in appearances with little things like that. She didn’t stand out and she liked that she very obviously belonged with her people.

Comparatively to humans however, Rayla knew she was far from normal. Her ear shape, skin tone, eye color, hair color, horns, and facial markings are a far cry from a stereotypical human girl right off the bat; not that it ever really concerned her. Growing up, she had always thought that humans were the ones that looked strange with their rounded ears, useless extra finger, and small stature. Now being around humans longer, she was beginning to notice those differences more. In the case of Callum though, they were absolutely endearing and cute differences in her mind.

Rayla’s opinion on Callum and his appearance radically changed over the course of their time together. Somewhere along the way she had gone from thinking the human was just weird and small to thinking that he was actually... attractive. While Rayla had never specifically asked him, she assumed something similar probably happened with him too. She may never ask him though because things like appearances and beauty weren’t necessarily staple issues where she came from.

She smiled at her finished braid. It looked nice and matched her usual appearance well, she thought. As she fixed on her belt and slipped on her boots, the thought that she should maybe try and style her hair another way for once just to see what it would look like passed her mind. She thought of the fancy up dos she had seen some girls do here and shook her head. That would look silly on her.

The next time she could recall looking into the mirror was after she dragged herself in after a training session. She was still breathing heavily a bit from exertion and was sweating under her armor. She didn’t need a mirror to tell her she looked a bit rough and yet even with her state, Callum had still kissed her tenderly before she left to freshen up before dinner. Still she couldn’t help but glance at herself as she passed the mirror. Her reflection depicted exactly what she expected: messy hair, reddened cheeks, sweaty exterior and strands of hair sticking to her face, dirt smudges here and there. The price of training and staying agile she supposed. But pausing for a moment she really noticed her build. Her body was tall and athletic with minimal curves and toned muscles from being so active. An image of Claudia and her more curved build crossed by momentarily and how Callum had been enamored with her prior. Rayla frowned, did Callum like that kind of a body type more? He had never said it before, but maybe that was something his young self had admired in her and still liked?

Her hands ghosted over her own body briefly before pausing. That was a dumb thought, she mentally reprimanded herself and continued to change.

That insignificant, stupid mirror and looking into it occasionally now had planted a small seed of doubt and insecurity that had began to root itself in Rayla. Unbeknownst to her, she was paying more attention to her appearance than she had ever before. Under the guise of excuses like “that’s a dumb thought” or “you know better than that”, she ignored the little voice of doubt that was growing and played it off within herself. Maybe Rayla was also a little too proud to admit that she could be struggling with her self-image because after all she was Rayla; she was this strong, brave, and sure person, definitely not the kind that would struggle with something as meaningless as her appearance.

She and Callum were currently walking through the town square admiring the preparation of a festival that was underway. The people were stringing up colorful lanterns, lights, and flowers adorning homes and wreaths to mark the beginning of Spring. There were smiles all around and music trailed through the various alleyways; it was a beautiful sight to be seen after so much war and darkness.

Callum had firmly and proudly held her hand as they walked through the town. All of Katolis was aware that the Prince was somehow romantically linked to his Elven companion and they were a common sight from time to time; the human prince with magic and the beautifully, deadly elf. From the first time they set foot outside the palace together, they garnered stares and glares alike. This was to be expected however and didn’t bother either too much as time passed.

Callum for his part thought he was the luckiest man in all the kingdoms to have Rayla by his side. No matter how much time passed since they became a “thing”, he still looked at her with absolute amazement and like she was the only person that existed in his sight. The thing is that it was kind of true; to Callum, Rayla was all he saw. And for Rayla, she never even thought of looking because no one could replace who he was to her; what they had built together. They both occupied a spot in each other’s spot that no one else could ever be seen taking. It didn’t matter if they weren’t from the same background at all.

Rayla was seemingly firm in this but that stupid, stupid seed in her head had laid some tiny roots in even that foundation. As they both walked together arms swinging, her eyes wandered around to other human couples and how easy they had it. Her eyes would then linger on the women and how beautifully elegant they looked… They were human of course so their features and physique displayed that, but there was a bit of envy in how diverse they could look. They had much more softer features naturally and their femininity was emphasized with they way they adorned themselves. Colorful dresses, ribbons, jewelry, etc. were used and only served to make them more beautiful to the eyes around them.

When Rayla looked at herself after admiring them, she couldn’t help but seem so plain and unfeminine in comparison. Her clothing was always darker in color and she didn’t wear frills or jewels that would just get in the way of her blades. Her look never varied too much and was always practical in nature, designed to be able to move; very different from other girls who didn’t carry around double blades with them. Any of these beautiful women would make such perfect princesses. Why did Callum choose her? Her face had dropped as all the self-destructive thoughts slowly raced in her head.

Callum had noticed that Rayla had suddenly become less talkative. Her grip on his hand was limp and when he turned to look at her, her face was clouded and down cast for some reason. He stopped walking and tugged her hand a little when she kept on walking, not noticing he had stopped. She looked up surprised at him.

“Hey, are you alright?” He asked her, cautiously.

He knew she wasn’t the most open with her emotions naturally and didn’t want to press onto her if she didn’t want to talk about them at the moment.

She looked away from him, “N-No, I’m alright Callum.”

He raised an eyebrow clearly not buying it.

She sighed, “I’m just a wee tired and beat up from training lately with the others. We also have that fancy party later for the festival and I want to make sure I look decent...” She said, only dipping into some of her much deeper thoughts.

That evening would be a large ball/party that Ezran was throwing to invite friends, dignitaries, and such to celebrate their newfound peace. Of course he had insisted that Rayla and Callum attend and even mentioned that he wanted to honor them for their part in rebuilding relations with the human kingdoms and Xadia. Both of them had been embarrassed at the idea of so many eyes on them and had tried to talk him out of it, but there was no budging him; even Bait nodded in agreement with the young king.

Callum smiled lightly at her concerns and felt that there was more to the issue, but he would respect her boundaries and wouldn’t press too much into things especially out in public.

“Rayla, you’re going to look great. You wanna know why? Because you’re already the most beautiful woman in all of Xadia and Katolis combined no matter what you wear.” He said heartfelt with emotions to hopefully encourage her mood.

She looked into his eyes and how they always shown with his emotions candidly and knew he meant what he said. She wanted to hit herself for being so dumb to consider anything else. Callum would never lie to her. Callum loved her. He loved Rayla as Rayla.

She smiled back, “Thank you Callum.”

She had raced through the stone walls as quickly as she could. She had torn the bottom of the simple dark green gown she had on earlier to move faster and reach her room where she would lock herself in and wallow in what had just happened. Callum would no doubt be knocking on her door frantically to reach her and get inside. She couldn’t see herself opening up that door anytime soon to anyone…

The evening had actually started out better than she had anticipated. After catching Rayla in a stump on what to wear, Opeli had actually swooped in with a gown she had custom made for the elf. The gown was absolutely beautiful, simple, and Rayla. The fabric was a deep green color that sparkled and faded from a lighter color green at the top when it caught the light. It’s color, she said, had been inspired by a combination of Rayla’s natural attire and Callum’s eyes, to which she blushed. The style was one shouldered and movable somehow! Rayla marveled at how well it suited her and how she could even wear her boots under it; it clung to her waist and flowed down lightly. Opeli had then taken great care to assist Rayla with her hair and pulled it into a soft updo under her horns that wasn’t too complex, but was still elegant.

Looking at her reflection, Rayla was stunned. She never imagined herself looking anything like a princess, but in that moment she actually did. She looked delicate and still strong in her gown, hair, and even a thin choker and bracelet combo. Rayla’s eyes sparkled with a hint of powered color on her lids and cheeks that made their natural lavender stand out all the more. She had gasped at herself and Opeli had stood looking proud at her handiwork.

“A beautiful look for an already beautiful girl.” She had said to her.

Upon an announcement of each notable guest, Rayla herself was soon introduced to the crowd within the ballroom. Her nerves had nearly swallowed her, wondering what the eyes staring at her were thinking, until she caught eyes with Callum. He stood at the edge of the crowd, closest to the staircase they’d walk down. His eyes were wide with wonder at her. He already thought Rayla was beautiful, but she was absolutely stunning; magical. She looked like a fairy tale elven princess from a storybook.

“Don’t laugh, Opeli helped me.” Rayla said as she reached him, taking great care to not trip on her dress.

He held out his hand for her to take and she slipped her hand into his timidly. He leaned down and kissed her small hand in front for all to see. The action partially stunned Rayla herself who stood there as he leaned back up straight.

“Rayla, you are amazing.” He said, still holding her hand in his and stroking the top of it with his fingers.

No one in the room or world existed but them.

They spent the evening laughing and even dancing quite a bit together, wrapped in each other’s sight and never straying too far, the two were a sight to see. King Ezran couldn’t help but smile sweetly whenever he caught sight of them and it warmed his heart to see them so carefree and happy together; he thought they deserved it. Callum and Rayla had been approached by some curious parties and friends as well. Overall, it was a wonderful time getting to reunite with allies and friends alike and just enjoy being in love and young. There was peace now and they could enjoy it as it existed and just be together.

“I’ll be right back Rayla, I’m going to check on Ezran alright? Try not to cause too much trouble while I’m gone.” Callum had said teasingly.

Rayla laughed, “Oh I’d never want to do anything to embarrass you your highness.”

He groaned, “You know I hate people saying that.”

“That’s exactly why I said it. Now go, I’ll go grab something to drink.” She assured him with a peck on the cheek that left a goofy grin on his face.

She made her way through the crowds to the beverage area where some guests were mingling and others were glancing around, people watching, when she first tuned into the comments being made.

“I cannot believe how the nobility in Katolis has fallen… To be prancing about with an elf?!”

“Who does she think she is, walking around here like she’s royalty? She could never be.”

“I’m embarrassed for her. The poor thing tried to look presentable for once. What a pitiful effort.”

“The dress suits her: it’s plain like she is.”

“Who tried to make her God awful hair look regal? She should just have stayed locked away.”

“I bet you she’s made her way in the young prince’s bed. Elves are known to be wild right? I’m sure he’ll get his youthful whims out of the way and then settle with someone serious and actually human. I mean goodness could you imagine the children?!”

Rayla had never been more embarrassed and insulted in her life. These nameless faces around her were judging her, without even knowing her. They were making assumptions and critiquing her cruelly. Anger was the first emotion that registered in her mind, indignation to their comments, but soon after embarrassment seeped in, and finally those darker thoughts and emotions she had been trying desperately to ignore.

Callum had walked back, still laughing at something when he noticed the look of utter pain on Rayla’s face.

“Rayla?” He asked, moving to touch her arm and even move her out of the room if something was wrong.

But before his fingertips could make contact with her at all, Rayla had activated her Moonshadow abilities fueled by the full moon outside and dashed out of the room.

Rayla slammed the door to her room and slowly sunk down from the door to the floor. Hugging her knees to her chest, she began to let herself cry. Deep sobs came from her as she clung to herself with a near painful grip. She felt so, so stupid for letting their comments get to her. She didn’t even know those people! Why would their words hurt her so much? Yet deep down inside, she knew why… They had picked at an area she was beginning to hurt in and self-question. Of course they had no way of knowing that, but their words were still daggers tearing in deeper. The small bruises and scrapes had merged into full-fledged wounds over time and led her to where she was now: an emotional wreck on her floor.

Why? Why was she struggling with this so much? Why did it matter what she looked like? Why did it matter what others said? But why couldn’t she look a bit more “normal” though? Why couldn’t she have more “normal” and appealing features? Was she really embarrassing Callum and his family that badly? Would anyone ever look at her with acceptance by Callum’s side? Would she have to keep dealing with these comments and glares all her life?

Rayla had her hands scrunched in her hair, her up do had fallen out of its style and no doubt looked as terrible as Rayla felt. She momentarily wiped her eyes and saw her reflection from across the room. She looked like a huddled mess of tears and hair and ripped dress fabric. Anger filled her veins yet again at the sight.

“This is all your fault! You stupid piece of glass! You put these dumb thoughts in ma head!” She said and took one of her boots off and nailed it at the mirror. It cracked and slowly broke apart at the force, pieces of it falling to the stone floor with clanging noises. The outburst made her feel partially better to have gotten rid of some anger, but she was still upset at the fact that she was worrying about her hair, her makeup, her outfit, etc. even in that moment and in another impulsive move, Rayla crawled across the floor and grabbed one of the glass pieces.

Standing up firmly, she grabbed a chunk of her hair and slashed the mirror piece through it.

“Rayla! Rayla please open up! Please let me in! Look, I don’t know what happened but I want to be there for you. Please Rayla!” Callum said desperately as he pounded on the thick wooden door between them.

Somewhere inside he knew Rayla was hauled up and unswerving. He had gone after her as quickly as he could have, all the while wondering what had sent her into such an outburst. He hadn’t left her alone for too long had he? Had someone said something to her? He couldn’t help but feel terribly guilty if he had somehow caused her pain. He just wanted to be in there with her, even if he couldn’t make it better.

Suddenly he heard movement from inside the room and he lightened up with the hope that Rayla perhaps had heard him. Just as he stepped back, the door opened.

Illuminated with only the glow of the full moon through the window stood Rayla at the door. Her dress was torn, her boots off, and most notably… her hair was chopped short messily. It was cut with bits that stood out in some places. Her face was down, looking at the floor, but he could see that she had been crying heavily by the redness of her face.

He stood stunned, unable to form words.

“I know… I look terrible…” She said, still refusing to look at him.

Callum without any words in the moment, lunged forward and wrapped his arms around her. At his tender, yet firm embrace Rayla came undone again. The tears came and wouldn’t stop as Callum had to support her weight to keep her standing. His heart clenched painfully to hear her in so much pain.

“Please Rayla, tell me what’s happening.” He said, desperate to reach her.

She finally looked up at his eyes and nodded her head. She’d tell him.

“There you go, you look rather lovely!”

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes to stare into another mirror. Rayla’s fingers came up to touch the neatly trimmed hair on her head. The cut was nearly a bob look, that fell around her chin, as Rayla’s earlier chop had been done so roughly out of anger that it had to be fixed. Opeli stepped in eagerly again to help when requested and had nearly tripped at the sight of the young woman’s white locks gone.

“I-I kinda look like my mum.” She said.

In truth, she actually did. With few memories of her parents, she could still vaguely recall what they looked like. Her mother had been a strong woman whose hair was always cropped short for battle; Rayla looked like the spitting image of her now though she wouldn’t wander on that too long.

Rayla examined her hair and then her eyes, nose, mouth, markings, and shape.

“You, Rayla, are the most beautiful, amazing soul that exists in the world you hear me? I won’t have you thinking these lies about yourself anymore. That’s what they are: lies that want to take away your spirit and make you doubt who you really are. Rayla, have you really looked at yourself lately? And I don’t mean what you’re wearing or what your hair looks like or anything superficial like that, but really looked and seen yourself? Because if you’d really, really look you’d seen the absolutely incredible person I see. The person you really are. You’d see your heart which is the most “beautiful” thing about you. The heart that no one in this world can compare to and the heart I love. But you need to believe and see that for yourself Rayla. You need to love and see yourself. Just take it day by day though and I’ll be here every single day to remind you if I have ” Callum had said to her, holding her tightly in her room throughout the night until she fell asleep in her safe embrace.

She could soon feel Callum’s hands on her shoulders and then feel his fingers playing with her new hair. He had a smile on his face that shone with adoration as his pale fingers weaved in with her snowy strands. She kept replaying his tender care of her all night long and encouragements. He took every emotion, thought, and tear she shared with a strength she had been surprised herself to see. He was adamant and firm in his words and beliefs and worked to address every self-conscious rambling as it came. He reassured her that he didn’t mind it and that he’d stay with her forever reminding her of who she was. It had broken through her cracked interior and began to mend the pieces that existed.

He reaffirmed to her that she needed to believe for herself and love for herself who she was. Callum could only do so much, but she had to live with herself. She had to come to a place of acceptance and appreciation for who she was; there was no one else like her in the world and there would never be. She found herself beginning to repeat the words in her mind even now and tucking them into her heart little by little. Come morning, she was feeling considerably better than the night before and was ready to face a mirror again, if at least to fix her messy hair.

One day at a time, one step at a time, she would take it with herself and Callum by her side.

She lightly smiled and saw how her entire face lit up with it’s unique features and traits that could only belong to her.

“You know what, I think I could get used to this actually.”

#Dragon Prince #rayla x callum #rayllum #Rayla #callum #fanfic #fanficiton #romance #angst #self image #insecurity #love

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tessatechaitea · 4 years

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The Ray #1

In 1994, I had no idea who Christopher Priest and Howard Porter were so I have no idea why I purchased this comic book.

Although (continuing the thought from the caption which is just me saying, "Fuck the format! I can do what I want!") I was in my early 20s in 1994 so I was probably into that edgy fascination with freaks and body deformity. I hadn't seen Tod Browning's Freaks yet but I'm sure I would have jumped at the chance if I'd known about it. It's the only reason I can figure why I bought a comic book about a character I knew nothing about. Because it looks like he's a hero with a deformed baby leg. I probably picked it up off the shelf and yelled, "Fuckin' A, dude! Look at this ganky bastich!" It was 1994 so obviously I was emulating Lobo in my every day life. Some of you might be thinking, "Ugh! You're so gross and problematic!" But I'm just being honest! I was a young man, masking like crazy in order to hide my vulnerabilities so I wouldn't be crushed by social interactions and existential threats to my psyche. I had to act tough to survive the crazy streets of Santa Clara, California! Back then, Silicon Valley wasn't like it is now! In 1994, hulking techno-nerds were roaming the streets with razor sharp circuit boards looking to cut the genitals off of anybody who criticized the Neo-Geo CD home gaming console. If you looked at them funny, they'd challenge you to a game of Cyberball and you'd better hope you won because they were also obsessed with Mortal Combat and if you lost, the last thing you'd hear would be a bunch of techno-nerds screaming "Finish him!" before you found yourself upside down gagging on the filthy water of an unflushed public toilet. The early nineties were some rough years! Especially when you were into heavy metal! People think grunge and rap killed metal but think about what people thought was "rock and roll" during the early 90s: Warrant's "Cherry Pie" and Extreme's "More Than Words." I mean, Feetal's Gizz! Metal was dead long before grunge and rap came by to fill its grave. Anyway, you could totally be into freaks in the early 90s because the Internet didn't exist so your opinions weren't reaching anybody outside your small circle of friends. All the other people of the world who didn't know you at all didn't have a way to tell you you were a piece of shit because of one single thing that comprised the myriad facts of who you were. Fuck you, Internet! No, no! I'm sorry! Don't be mad at me, Internet! I can't live without you! Also, maybe I just bought this comic book because the cover was shiny and embossed and growing up in Santa Clara was so boring that it made this comic book looked exciting. The issue begins with The Ray battling Brimstone. Remember him from Legends?

Brimstone is as big as Godzilla and he's already killed hundreds of people, judging by the apartment buildings he's smashed.

I don't know who The Ray is or where he's from. What part of the United States of America uses slang like "gaffle," "put my serve on," "zoom this buster," "bone out," "feebs," and "rot." Is this just Christopher Priest trying to mimic youth speak? I would expect this kind of thing from an aging comic book writer like current Neal Adams but Priest was in his early thirties when he wrote this. Maybe The Ray is from another Earth and Priest's theory was that slang words would obviously differ between Earths. But not so much that you couldn't get the gist of what he's saying. Except for "gaffle." I don't know what the fuck he wants to do to Brimstone when he says he's going to gaffle him. I know what I would mean by it but that doesn't seem appropriate in this situation.

Oh wait. The Ray was just writing fan-fiction about himself.

So the Brimstone fight didn't really happen. Or it did happen but The Ray is using it as fodder to write comic books about himself. So he's like Clark Kent writing articles about Superman? At least writing comic book stories about your own adventures isn't unethical. Fucking Clark Kent. What kind of a journalist uses his soap box to simply promote himself? No wait. Journalists fucking suck. I despise journalists for the same reason I despise police officers. If you're just letting your profession go to shit because a bunch of people are abusing their positions of power and not actually doing the public service they're supposed to be doing, you're just as bad as the worst apple in the barrel. There's a reason that whole apple/barrel thing is still a saying even though nobody really associates apples with barrels anymore. Maybe The Ray isn't writing comic books although it seems like the super edgy postmodern take a writer in the 90s would think was fucking mind blowing. We got Kyle Rayner, comic book artist, as the new Green Lantern. Why shouldn't we also get a comic book writer in there as well? Or The Ray might just be writing stories for his college paper which would mean he's just as unethical and terrible as Clark Kent, I suppose. But in an amateurish way. The Ray (whose name is Ray Terrill so it was lucky he got light-based powers) stops trying to write and decides to tell the readers about the last few days. He's a young guy who works at a fast food chicken joint and has just leased his first apartment. It's a piece of shit with some garbage and/or artistic sculpture in the middle of the room but he doesn't have any credit or money so he's stuck with it. I bet there are corpses under the floor boards as well as other things too boring to mention (but which I'll mention anyway) like rats and cockroaches and dried semen stains.

This is Ray's narration of the place which I read after I wrote the previous paragraph. Was I writing comics and named Christopher Priest in 1994?

The Ray spends all day handing out flyers to Clucky Chicken while standing right outside Clucky Chicken. Is that what flyers are for? To remind people about the thing they can totally see right in front of them? I guess they could be coupons. While he's handing out flyers, his super cool cousin Hank stops by to gaffle some swang all up in through him.

This must be Earth-15 where they say things like "Yo trip dat frum, golderboots!" and "Swank on into my PQs, Flub Daddy!"

The Ray is disappointed that he's a man now because responsibility sucks. Kids can't stand curfews and rules but man is it sweet to be able to come and go as you please (within curfew, of course!) while doing whatever the fuck you want and not worrying about money for food or rent. The Ray can't even fuck his girlfriend because she saw him in the chicken suit and is all, "Oh, um, I just came by to say I can't come by! Bye!" The Ray can travel at the speed of light anywhere he wants while carrying other people. That makes sense because comic books. He takes his cousin Hank Fonzerelli to see a volcano shaped like a hand in Hawaii only to discover that it's another Brimstone. It's activated by a henchman of Darkseid while The Ray and Hank are checking out a surf competition or a luau. It's at this point when The Ray gets back to the beginning of the story where he was failing to stop Brimstone from destroying a city. As he picks the story back up, Superboy arrives to save the day. Not the boring Superboy who used to be Superman and learned a terrible secret about himself on his sixteenth birthday about an extra candle. The new Superboy who arrived on the scene after Superman died. He might also be boring but I wouldn't know having never read any comic books about him. The new Superboy is an arrogant dick and The Ray hates him. That's probably why The Ray winds up killing him. Or he thinks he killed him. Everybody reading the comic book probably thought The Ray killed him too (because we were all dumb-dumbs who actually believed DC Comics had killed Superman off for good. Why wouldn't they?! He was a big boring boy scout whose powers kept fluctuating because editors and writers thought the problem with writing Superman stories was that he was too powerful. But the real problem with writing Superman stories was that those same writers and editors were unimaginative assholes who didn't actually understand Superman. Why else would Superman have died from a fist fight?! Seriously, Dan Jurgens. What were you thinking?! Superman should never have been killed because he encountered something more powerful that could just beat the shit out of him. Superman should have been killed because of a philosophical or ethical dilemma where he realized the only way to save the world was to allow himself to die. He should have been Jesus but instead he was just Apollo Creed. Who I think was a metaphor for John the Baptist? The issue ends with the narrator letting the readers know that Superboy isn't actually dead and why would the idiots think he'd be killed in The Ray when he was currently starring in his own popular monthly comic book? Stupid dumb comic book readers! But the narrator also mentions that The Ray is out of power (I didn't know he had to recharge) and Brimstone is kind of mad. Then he's all, "If we were you," (I don't think a proper editor in 1994 would have allowed a writer to use the plural pronoun "we" as a non-specific gender singular pronoun so now I'm picturing the narrator as a small group of old people), "We'd be back here in 30 days!" And I guess 22 year old me agreed with them because I purchased Issue #2. The Ray #1 Rating: C. C is average, right? I didn't find anything I particularly loved about this issue but I also didn't find anything I absolutely hated. Except for Superboy but I think I was supposed to hate him so that's a positive critique. I probably purchased the next issue because I wanted to find out what happens to Hank Fonzerelli. What a cool dude! The letters pages don't have any letters but it does have a story by Brian Augustyn about how Christopher Priest changed his name from Jim Owsley. It also explains that Priest's idea for The Ray was to have a teenager suddenly have to deal with god-like powers while still being a teenager. I think before this that was called "Spider-man". Except for the god-like powers! Those were more spider-like powers.

#The Ray #Christopher Priest #Howard Porter #Robert Jones #DC Comics #DC

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things-we-used-tc-share · 5 years

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All the king’s men

“All the king’s horses and all the king’s men,

couldn’t put me back together again,”

Warnings: Angst, with a happy ending

Ship: Logince, Analogicality

Plot: After his father’s death, Prince Roman, now alone and running a kingdom is on the verge of a breakdown, he runs away into the woods to seek some solace. There, he finds three strange young men who call themselves witches.

Sometimes the world felt like it was crumbling on Roman; when his mother had died, for example, his entire world had felt like glass as it shattered and the shards embedded itself into his heart. Now, his father, not a man worth loving but Roman had loved him none the less. He stares out at a kingdom he was supposed to run. Him, a 19-year-old boy is supposed to know how to make people happy when he doesn’t even know how to make himself happy.

He’d never felt so alone in his life.

If he was as alone as he felt then there’d be no-one left to miss him and no-one for him to miss. Which was why he’d turned and ran, ran as fast and far as his legs could carry him with his heart filled with fury at the world. He screamed into the night’s sky as tears filled his eyes and his hands fell heavy against tree bark. Adrenaline poured and yet he was so exhausted. Is home still home when you’re all alone?

He’d looked back into the darkness with no idea where he was or how to get home, but his back hits the tree and he slides down, whimpering into the palms of his hand. He realizes somewhere along the line he’d cut the back of his hand and now it was stinging in the cold air, for the first time in his life he thinks he might die, and for once he can’t tell if he’s afraid of that thought.

He hears twigs snapping and his head darts up to meet curious blue eyes. Roman swallows dryly and presses back against the tree “Aren’t you...the prince?” The person speaks, pushing his hood back to reveal brown curls falling into pale blue eyes. “Logan! Virgil! I found a prince!” There’s a shout in response as two men wander out of the trees, wearing similar clothes, one hunched slightly as he walks with a bowed head in an attempt to conceal his face. The second seemed less anxious, carrying himself in a rather tall way as his cloak moves with the wind behind him.

Roman swallows as he sees the Pentagrams hanging around their necks, as the taller holds out a hand he can see ink buried against his skin all over his pale hands, dipping under his sleeve. He looks from the hand up to his face, meeting not eyes, but hand-crafted steel goggles. The newcomer, realizing this appearance may be quite startling pushes the goggles up and his hood down. The goggles push back ink-black curls and holding them out of extremely piercing cobalt eyes.

“Prince Roman,” He smiles a small smile “I’ve got to say this is very surprising, very few journey out to the woods alone, and for good reason,” He helps Roman up “My name’s Logan, this is Patton and Virgil,” Logan’s hands are full of rings, and he’s rather beautiful. “You’re lucky we found you, but it’s far too late to be journeying out into the forest, we’ll take you to our home, you’ll be better protected there and in the morning we’ll show you how to get home,”

Roman wants to say that he doesn’t want to go home, or that he doesn’t particularly mind freezing to death in the forest right now but Patton smiles brightly, bouncing on the balls of his feet and there’s something about that reaction that makes him just nod numbly.

He follows the three quietly but he can see questions in the way they exchange looks. The forest suddenly seems scarier now his senses have come too, every noise makes him startle (He’s not the only one, Virgil seems to have the same reaction, what’s scarier is the other probably knows what is out there, he doesn’t).

Their home is a building made out of bricks with charms and flowers of all different kinds around it, in a perfect circle. He blinks, there are lanterns hung all around it, objects that seemed hand-crafted, he recognized some of them as symbols in folklore he’d been taught as a child. Patton lowers his hood again as they enter the house, which Roman could’ve sworn looked much smaller on the outside, and pulls off his cloak.

Like Logan, his hands and arms were covered in ink. His rolled-up shirtsleeves revealed the pale skin to have many etchings, images, symbols, all delicately patterned around his skin. Patton catches him staring and smiles “Do you like them? I do them myself! They’re rather painful though I must admit,” Roman blinks.

“They’re...pretty,” He hears Logan chuckle and turns to the other who now looks much taller in the light, his curls falling like a black halo. “How do you do them?” He looks at Logan who is now rolling up his own sleeves, his arms and hands are so covered Roman isn’t sure he can see skin.

“With ink and needles,” Roman visibly winces, “Yeah it’s not an easy ride but it’s necessary for us to always be protected, so I learned how to permanently have protection symbols on our skin, Virgil has the most even though he cried having his first one,”

“I did not,” The smallest finally pulls his hood down and Roman has to blink for a moment. He’s wearing a thin shirt that exposes his neck, his entire neck is covered with the markings, all the way up to his ears and around the left side of his face. “It was painful though,” He mutters, discarding the cloak and pulling his long hair up to tie in a strange fashion at the crown of his head. These men were very strange, with their inked skin and long hair.

“Who are you? Why do you live in the forest?”

“We’re Witches!” Patton beams and Roman’s eyebrows furrowed, they don’t look very witch-like, from pictures in storybooks he’d expected Witches to be well...women, for starters. “Yeah I know, we’re not green!” He can’t help the laugh that escapes him “And also we don’t want your first born child or anything, we’re not those sort of Witches,”

“I don’t think I’ll be having a first born child anyway, women are not really my forte,” Roman mutters bashfully, scratching the back of his neck.

“Me too,” Virgil and Patton say simultaneously, whilst Logan offers a smile and a nod in agreement. Three gay witches in a house in the middle of a forest, Roman really hopes he hadn’t walked into something.

“We’re also not that kind of witch,” Virgil interrupts “You don’t have to sell your love or anything like that, genuinely we don’t want anything from you except to know you’re safe, we can’t have the Prince getting hurt after all the effort we go to keeping everything in this forest contained here and not in your city,” It sounds too good to be true until Roman finds himself fixating on a specific part of that sentence.

“Wait, what do you mean by everything in this forest?” Virgil looks down at his painted skin and then to Patton, who looks at Logan in tandem. The elder looks between the two and gestures to the bench next to a simmering fire.

“Sit, Roman,” Patton sits opposite them, next to Virgil whilst Logan sits next to Roman. “These forests are enchanted and controlled by things that you’ve probably seen in storybooks,” He pauses “Those stories are not stories, they’re real,” He holds a hand out and the fire moves, shifts, suddenly there are shapes, faces of things that the Prince had seen in storybooks, he startles a little as the fire roared. “We maintain the guards and protections around your city, only Humans can pass through it, and us of course, we maintain our own trade with some of the city folk,”

“So, those things, they’re real and out there?”

“Mostly at night, most of the creatures can only operate during the dark so during the day you will be safe,”

“And you have...actual magic?” Logan nods and holds out a hand, the fire dances across his palm but doesn’t burn his skin. It extinguishes as he clenches his fist before nodding to Patton. The shorter man stands up slightly and closes his eyes, holding out his hand, he opens them and moves a hand swiftly the wind bellowed through the house, extinguishing the fire fluidly. Logan flicked a wrist, starting the fire again, but he looks a little tired. Roman looks at Virgil, wariness and shock written into his face.

“Virgil’s magic is not one we can experiment with inside the house,” Logan says with a small chuckle “And we shouldn’t wander outside of the circle at this time, perhaps in the morning?” Roman nods, trying to adjust to the fact he’s in the company of magical people.

“On that note, it’s time for bed for me,” Virgil hums, heading towards the rickety ladder that Roman assumes leads to their beds. “Pat?” The elder nods, following behind them. “See you in the morning guys,” Patton gives a small wave and follows Virgil upwards.

“It must be hard for you to adjust,” Logan speaks again, his voice quieter and his eyes reflecting the fire flames as he stares straight ahead into them “But can I entrust that you keep our existence secret, Roman?” The young man nods as he meets the other’s eyes. Once again, he thinks he’s rather beautiful, all sharp edges and skin glowing in the firelight. He wonders if the ink on his skin stretches further than his arms rather briefly as he looks at him.

“You can trust me,” He says softly “I understand,” Logan relaxes visibly as he leans back against the wall and closes his eyes briefly. Roman can see the etching of a small pentagram at the base of his ear where it meets his jawline. “Can I...touch it? the ink?” Logan blinks his eyes open, eyebrows raised before nodding, extending his arms for the other to trace. He expected them to be more raised, like scratches. “Do you have more?” The Witch nods and stands, pulling his shirt over his head. (Roman’s mouth goes a little dry as he stares)

It was perhaps the most enchanting thing Roman had seen, and although Roman found many young men who were shirtless in his presence enchanting, the way the ink curls around this mans body is enthralling. Thin lines, thick lines, dots, and symbols, they dance along his skin. Patton truly was quite the artist (And Logan is most certainly a work of art). At some point, Roman’s no longer staring at the imagery and is just staring at Logan’s lean figure, not particularly skinny but skinnier than the people he was used to seeing in his City. After all hard labor was the most prominent job going for men his age, which included lots of heavy lifting.

“Beautiful,” He mutters, unsure if he’s referring to Patton’s handiwork or Logan or both. His eyes travel up Logan’s chest to his face, where his gaze softens. Yeah, he’s definitely talking about Logan. It’s not uncommon for him to become infatuated rather easily, his mother had joked that there was no “Romance without Roman,”, but to be infatuated with a witch was a whole new story that hadn’t been written. “Will I get to see you again?” He asks, voice soft and eyes...scared.

“If you wish, but perhaps under better circumstances next time, I frequent the city after all,” Roman nods as Logan pulls his shirt back on and sits beside the other. “Why were you in the forest? You looked rather distressed,” Roman hadn’t forgotten of course, but he’d have rather dwelled in a distraction.

“My father died,” He speaks so softly that his words almost don’t escape even in the quiet “I ran away,” It’s simple words but it tells a much bigger story that Logan recognizes.

“You were afraid?” The Witch places a gentle hand on his forearm by way of comfort “I used to get scared a lot too, when I was younger, but my kind have to grow up a lot faster, I was alone before I was fifteen, I wandered until I met Patton and Virgil, they needed help and I needed...companionship, perhaps you simply need friends Roman,” Roman blinks and his eyes meet Logan’s.

“Could you be my friend?” A smile cracks across the other’s face.

“We’d be more than happy for that Roman, we could always do with more friends after all Witches and Humans have lived in a rivalry for far too long,” Roman nods and leans against the wall, studying the fire from his seat in quiet reverence; the sound of flames brings warmth and comfort as Roman finally looks over at Logan. The Witches’ eyes are closed and the ink bleeds into the darkness that the firelight could not reach. He decides he most definitely will want to be meeting the other man again.

“How old are you?” He finally asks, realizing his infatuation could be deemed troublesome if the other is older than expected. Even though it was quite rare for royalty to be unmarried even at his age, times were changing around him, many young men and women found marriage to be tiresome if not done right.

“I’m 22,” Logan says with a hum before opening his eyes. He looks older, but it might be all the markings and dark curls that made Roman think that. When he smiles he looks so much younger but the Prince doesn’t think that’s something Logan does often. “We should probably sleep,”

“Yeah, I’ll try,” He muttered, bringing his knees up to his chest and folding his arms over the top of them. Logan gives a small laugh and shakes his head, holding an elegant hand out for the other. Roman dare says he’s rather enchanted by the other as he takes the hand with the insecurity of a newborn lamb, fumbling his way through his own emotions.

“My bed can easily fit two bodies,” Roman’s cheeks heat at the thought as he’s led to the other’s bed. He’s no blushing innocent, but perhaps it’s because his idea of sharing a bed had never been quite so soft. He unties his boots, undresses from the waist upwards and slides into bed. He thought he might not sleep when he feels the skin of Logan’s back press against his own, but exhausted from the day, he quickly slumbers.

He wakes up in the morning and stretches, sitting up as the bedsheets fall to his waist, his hair mussed from sleep. He can smell food as he clambers down to the first floor. He freezes for a moment as he watches a wonderfully domestic scene, a small smile on his lips. Patton was cooking on the rather makeshift stove, humming slightly as Virgil’s arms wrap around his waist, pressing delicate kisses to his shoulder, he feels like he’s intruding. What baffles him further is as Logan brushes past he presses a quick kiss to Patton’s lips to grab a book off the side, his fingertips flipping through the pages absently.

“Oh good, Roman, you’re awake,” He’s wearing his shirt again this time at least, hanging off of his shoulders lightly as strands of hair escape from the hastily done braid his hair has been tied into. Patton looks over and smiles, giving a tiny wave. “Virgil, you said you wanted to show Roman?” The smallest hums and untangles himself from Patton with a quick kiss to his lips before gesturing to Roman.

The prince follows him outside as they stand in the grass circle bare-footed. “Last time I tried this in the house we needed a new roof,” His voice is deep, but he has a slight humorous lilt to it this morning. At the center, he tilts his head up towards the clouds and whispers under his breath, his hands stretching out; the sky goes very dark, the clouds turning grey. The first droplets of rain tangle with the grass and Roman inhales sharply at the cloud’s tears. Then the rumble of nature’s angry voice echoes, the patter of rain increasing, followed by a bright flash of lightning.

His eyes trail to Virgil, whose eyes have gone white with his own magic. Then he breathes and retreats “I can direct where the lightning lands too,” He whispers as the storm settles “Tornados, hurricanes,” He looks back “I just can’t control it to the exact point, yet,” Roman smiles despite the fear of this man that he now holds.

“You’re...wonderful,” He breathes “All three of you,” Virgil blushes a little, a hand scratching the back of his neck as he stumbles over his words.

“Whatever, Patton’s making breakfast,” But Roman considers it a victory that he’d gotten a witch to blush.

As Patton wanders upstairs with Virgil to sort out some things to take with them to the city, Roman crosses his legs and looks over at Logan “So...the three of you are sort of in...a relationship?” Logan’s eyebrows raise and with a calm exhale Roman realizes he is amused, not upset.

“Yes,” Is the calm statement he gets in response “Our life spans are much greater than that of Humans, because of this we don’t tend to bite into the whole ‘monogamy’ situation, life is too long for that, if we believed in one true love we’d be even lonelier,” That makes sense he supposes. “Some witches do, but most of us life in...multiples if you like, groups at a time, it gives the opportunity for more stability, Virgil is good with defense, Patton is good at cooking and sigils, I’m good with books and teaching and trade,”

That makes much more sense than two people sharing a workload indeed.

“That sounds better than just two people,” Roman hums to himself, his eyes meet Logan’s before he has to force himself to look away. Almost as if he’s afraid what he’ll see in himself if he stares too long in those utterly gorgeous eyes.

“Alright, we’re packed,” Patton cheers, a bag strapped to his back as he starts down the stairs. “Let’s get you home Roman,” Roman gives a small smile but the dread from the previous night starts to settle in again. He’s to be crowned king, to become a ruler of a kingdom. He takes a shaky breath as the three start out of the door.

But he has to do it, he has to build a better world than the one his father had left behind.

The walk back is long, longer than Roman had remembered as they follow a makeshift pathway that had been trodden many times. Approaching the city gates, the guards seem to take one look at Roman and heave a sigh of relief, their gaze shifty as they land on the witches. “They’re...with me,” The prince mutters and the guards nod, no matter what they can’t argue with their soon-to-be-king.

Virgil lets out a low whistle as they enter the castle, “Jesus Christ this place could house hundreds,” He places a hand against the brickwork “Oh, she has,” He mutters, Roman tries not to look too surprised that Virgil can communicate with inanimate objects, but at this point he can only sigh and ride with the waves.

“If you would like to stay the night, you can,” Roman mutters softly “I can easily ask for a room for the three of you,” His hands dig into his pockets, looking smaller and shyer against these creatures, creatures beyond his own imagination. Patton gasps excitedly before either Virgil or Logan could say no, and once Patton has fluttered his eyelashes and put on the wide-eyed plead, there’s no room for the word “no,”

He gives them the room next to him and watches as Patton hurls himself onto the large bed before Virgil is crawling on like a cat. “It’s so soft,” He mutters, poking it, shock registering on his face. Roman leaves them to it for a while, giving them the privacy of their own relationship and excitement for a while.

A while later, maybe an hour or so, Logan knocks at his door. “So, you’re being coronated tomorrow?” He asks gently as he slides into the room, in the crimson daylight, filtered through satin vermillion curtains, Logan looks so much more...alive. His blue eyes sparkling with curiosity and lips giving some semblance of a smile. “You needn’t be so scared of a crown, Roman, there is so much you can do with this Kingdom, things your father never cared to do,” The prince smiles as he stares up at the Witch.

“I know, but I’m still nervous,”

Logan nods, his silence full of thought. Roman’s tired of thinking, it only hurts his head and his heart, so he leans up, his hands at the back of the witch’s neck as he pulls the other into a kiss, a feverish and desperate kiss. What he’s desperate for he doesn’t know yet, comfort perhaps, maybe just some static in his mind. Logan’s hands waver, unsure where to rest before they settle on the Prince’s waist and hold him close.

“Sorry,”

“No...don’t be,” A small silence, Logan looks down at his feet, and then back at Roman, cheeks warm and a smile on his face “You’ll be fine, we’ll be there,”

Roman believes him.

Taglist:

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Ko-Fi

#logince #analogicality #sanders sides

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a-bit-too-much-of-a-zelda-fan · 5 years

Text

LinkedUniverse Fanfic Ch. 12: Musings and Memories

Stop! You’ve Violated the Law!

So, you’ve stumbled upon this original post for my Linked Universe fanfiction. That’s okay, it happens to everyone. As of March 2021, I’ve uploaded the entirety of this fanfic to my Archive of Our Own page. Along with finally giving the story a name–Oops! All Links: A Linked Universe Story–I made substantial edits to some of the chapters. These range from minor stylistic revisions to fixing a gaping plot hole that kinda completely broke the character conflict in the earlier chapters. I also renamed and renumbered (but not reordered) the chapters. Specifically, this is now Chapter 14: Musings and Memories.

The AO3 iterations of these chapters are the definitive versions. So, if you would like to read this fanfiction, please do so on AO3, right here. With this embedded link. Hehe. Geddit? Link?

Note: My screen name on AO3 is FrancisDuFresne. Yes, that is me. I am not plagiarizing myself.

Anyway, for posterity’s sake, the rest of the original post is below the cut.

Next up in my @linkeduniverse fan narrative, the Links have made it through the worst of the forest and are finally on the way to their destination. Time is feeling a bit nostalgic, and Wild shares one of his own memories with his companions. Word Count: 2170

With the lightning of Urbosa’s Fury and the Thunder Spell gone, the forest returned to its gloom. Their lanterns still did little to help them. Wild took his Sheikah Slate off his belt and activated the map. Its blue light played across his face. After inspecting it, he put it back and pointed to his left. “This way. It’ll be three or so hours.”

“Let’s get going, then,” Four said.

They nodded and started in the direction Wild pointed. “Wild, are you going to keep that halberd?” Warrior asked.

The finely-crafted spear was fastened to their resident amnesiac’s baldric, next to his bow and Stalfos shield. The ax-like head of the weapon glinted in the dim lantern light. As weapons pulled free from half a fox’s corpse on a tree in the middle of a forest go, it was a nice find. “Yes, why?”

“Do you seriously just steal monsters’ weapons?”

Wild looked over his shoulder at his companion. They were both raised as knights, and Warrior certainly acted like it. He always kept his armor and weapons in tip-top shape. Wild knew how to do all that but saw no reason why not to just take weapons he came across. “Yes. I’m not going to leave a good weapon like this go to waste.”

Warrior shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat,” he said.

“It does,” Wild replied.

The Links walked in silence a while. After an uneasy hour in the dark, the tree canopy began to thin, letting more light in. Within another hour, it was bright enough that they could extinguish their lanterns. The patchwork of sunbeams piercing gaps in the leaves spilled light on the forest floor. With lighter scenery came lighter moods.

Time and Twilight felt a serenity neither expected, given recent events. They were both raised in forests, and this stroll reminded them of home. For Time, it tasted bittersweet. He was bullied by Mido and desperately wanted his own fairy, but overall, life in the Kokiri Forest had been kind to him. He cast aside his thoughts of regret and guilt. He whistled a tune he hadn’t in many, many years.

The song carried to the rest of them. It was a simple, cheerful melody. Its lightheartedness resonated with them deep down, like they had known it all their lives. A sudden, inexplicable urge to dance struck them. Wind looked up to the one-eyed hero walking by his side. Time didn’t seem to notice he was whistling at all. “What’s that?” Wind asked.

“Hm?”

“That song. What are you whistling?”

“Oh, that?” Time said with a chuckle. He rubbed the back of his hand with one hand. “My best friend used to play that song on her Ocarina all the time. She asked me to play it whenever I wanted to talk to her.”

“Do you?” Sky asked.

Time sighed. “Yes. I would give anything to hear her voice again.”

“What happened to her?” Hyrule asked. “I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”

The oldest of the heroes looked up into the tree canopy. “She became a sage, one of the seven that sealed Ganon away. ‘Saria, the Sage of Forest.’ Has a ring to it, huh? Once I returned to my own time, I couldn’t call her anymore. Goddesses, do I miss her.”

Twilight sidled up next to Time and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “If it’s any consolation,” he said, “I’ve got a friend I can’t talk to anymore.”

Most of them could relate in one way or another. Wind smiled, reminiscing on his adventures with the King of Red Lions, Linebeck, and Ciela. “Ha, try three.”

“Or try…” Wild began. He went silent, thinking better of speaking his mind.

After a moment of awkward silence, Hyrule tried to break the tension. “It’s not a contest, you know.

“Only people losing contests say that,” Wind said.

The nine heroes had a good laugh at that. As they walked, the woods became even thinner and more light came in. It was as if their surroundings reflected a positive turn in their journey. They entered a pitch-black forest, fought off seventeen Hinox, and were finally making their way to out into the brightness of day.

“Speaking of that halberd,” Sky started, “Wild, you were amazing with that thing! Where’d you learn to do that?

Wild kept looking ahead of them. “It was part of my knight’s training growing up. I’m also good with a claymore… and pretty much anything, really.”

“Anything?” Wind asked. His voice was charged with excited curiosity.

“Yeah, I guess. I’ve used three-pronged, razor-sharp boomerangs—those things are brutal.”

“Wait, seriously?” Twilight interjected. “What if you don’t catch it the right way?”

“Uh…” Wild trailed off. He frowned and crossed his arms. Thirty seconds passed before he shrugged and admitted “Huh, I guess I never considered that.”

“You’re kidding me,” Legend said, putting his hands on his hips. “There’s no way even a weapons expert like you can pull that stunt off. Hell, there’s no way that kind of weapon even exists.”

Wild stopped walking. He turned around to his friends. “You don’t believe me?”

Four raised his hand and waggled it, as if saying I mean, kinda. “Fine,” Wild said. “I’ve got proof.”

“Really?!” Wind blurt out. He didn’t doubt Wild at all; he just wanted to see whatever this proof was. “Do you have one?”

Wild was unhooking his Sheikah Slate from his belt as he said “unfortunately, no. I broke the last one.”

“Aww…”

“I do, however,” he continued, tapping the screen on, “have a video.”

This was met with looks of confusion. Heads tilted, eyebrows cocked, and brows furrowed, they clearly didn’t know what Wild was talking about. “You guys have no idea what a video is, do you?”

Time smiled and shook his head. “Not in the slightest.”

“It’s basically a photo, but it takes so many shots that when they’re played really fast, the image looks like it’s moving. It also records sound. Purah, my Sheikah friend who developed the camera rune on my Slate, eventually created this new rune.”

“Well, let’s see it!” Sky urged.

They all wanted to see this. Not only was it new technology none of them knew, but it was apparently proof of this boomerang. With a few taps, Wild brought up the video. He waved the others over to him, who huddled around him to get good a look at the Sheikah Slate. Wild tapped the center of the screen.

The screen lit up with the image of a vast field with rolling hills. The Links watched in awe as the clouds and grass moved. Before they could get over the shock of a moving picture, a miniature Wild walked into the frame. His hair was considerably shorter. His right hand was hidden behind his back.

“Come on, Link!” a girl’s voice called from out of frame. “Throw it already!”

“Okay, okay,” he called back. The real Wild knew it was coming but was thrown off-guard nonetheless by hearing his own voice. He was still getting over the fact that he sounded different to everyone else than to himself. He felt a pang of longing when he heard Zelda’s voice; another incentive for him and his other selves to finish this and return to their own worlds.

A gasp from his friends snapped Wild out of his thoughts and back to the video. His video self took his hand from behind his back and raised a Lizal tri-boomerang. The screen zoomed and focused on the lethal weapon; Zelda evidently decided a detail-shot would be a nice addition. Wild took a moment to appreciate her attention to detail.

The boomerang had three jagged prongs branching off a leather-bound handle. To the others, it seemed that just touching the blades would break skin. They weren’t far off. The hero shifted it in his hand, letting light reflect off the shiny, almost-black surface. Zelda zoomed back out to show Wild’s face. He raised it above his head and grinned.

Zelda zoomed as far out as possible now. “Three!” she shouted. “Two! One! Throw!”

The miniature Wild whipped his hand forward and let the boomerang go. The deadly weapon spun rapidly up into the sky. It cleaved through the air, flying in a wide ark. Zelda was having trouble following it exactly, but they could track it by the sunlight glinting off its blades. Nearly fifty yards out, it started to circle back.

The other Links didn’t know it, but they were all holding their breath. How could Wild possibly catch that? they thought. The real Wild smiled, knowing exactly how he had caught it. The boomerang was coming in hot, closing distance. There was something wrong, though. It hadn’t turned back far enough. It was heading straight for Zelda.

The Princess realized this crucial fact too late to get out of the way. She was paralyzed. The cruel weapon would certainly be the end of her. She let out a shriek. Just then, a rush of brown and blue whipped across the screen. THUD. The camera panned to the side to see Wild lying on his side on the grass.

Zelda was clearly rushing to his side by the way the camera was bouncing and shaking. “Link!” she cried. “Are you alright?”

Wild slowly rose to a stand, holding his right shoulder with his left hand. In his right hand was the boomerang. The monstrous weapon was gripped firmly by its handle. By the indifference playing across his features, Wild was only mildly surprised that he made the catch. Zelda was caught between thanking him and apologizing, neither of which coming out quite right.

“Don’t worry about it,” Wild said finally. “Your father did give me a job to do, after all.”

The Sheikah Slate suddenly went dark, then lit back up to show twelve tiny images laid out in a grid. The real Wild turned it off hooked it back onto his belt. He turned to face his friends. They were all dumbstruck. Their jaws had dropped. It took a moment before they let out the breaths they just realized they had been holding. “Did you…” Four whispered, “did you seriously do that?”

Wild gave a sheepish smile and rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah.”

“Whoa…” Wind managed. “How?”

“I didn’t really think about it,” Wild admitted. “I saw it heading for Zelda and knew I had to catch it, so I did.”

Shaking his head with a toothy grin, Legend said “Okay, I take it back. That was masterful.”

Sky was especially taken back. He had never thrown a boomerang in his life. Throwing a wooden one and catching it seemed hard already, let alone one with only a one-in-four chance you catch the end that doesn’t cut your hand off. He supposed his closest equivalent was his Beetle, but that only took moving his forearm to steer.

“That was crazy,” Four said. “You need a lot of coordination to be able to catch that properly.” Then, pointing his thumb at his chest, “and I know coordination.”

Their minds returned to the fight in the cave, when Four used his Sword’s power to split himself into four fragments of himself. They slew Stalfos left and right in perfect unison. Yes, the others confirmed, He does know coordination. “Still,” Four resumed, “I have to admit you were amazing.”

Warrior looked up at the sky. From what he could see between the leaves, it was getting darker. He wasn’t in the mood to be in this forest in the dark again. “We need to keep moving. It shouldn’t be much longer, should it?”

Wild consulted his map. “Yeah. One more hour and we’ll be out.”

A sigh ran through the group. It was about time. They were shocked that even after everything, they would hit their destination before sundown. This put a pep in their step as they resumed their walk. Before they knew it, they were leaving the forest behind them. After several days of walking, and more fights than were welcome, they finally made it. This town was neither burning nor illusory, for which the heroes were thankful.

“Friends,” Wild started, “after much ado, welcome to the Town of Selggog.”

“It’s about time,” Legend said. “Feels like we’ve been trying to get here forever.”

Four cocked his head. “Odd name for a town, huh?”

“Link is an odd name for a legendary hero,” Time joked.

“Hey!” the others objected in unison. They exchanged glances and burst into laughter. The Links were their own persons with their own lives, but something bound them all together. Perhaps their sense of humor was just one more thing that they all shared. For all their differences, it was this solidarity that united them in hardship.

Not bothering to stifle a yawn, Hyrule managed “well, what are we waiting for? We’re not going to get any shuteye just standing here.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Twilight agreed. “Let’s go on, then.”

So, they did.

#linkeduniverse #linkeduniverse fanfiction #my own #my writing #fanfic #Musings and Memories

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