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munson-blurbs · 4 months

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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Being a perpetual people-pleaser meant that you were constantly putting others before yourself--particularly your parents and the eccentric guests who stayed at their motel. But when a surly and mysterious musician checked in indefinitely, he flipped your whole world on its head. (3.1k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ A/N: Thank you to my numerous beta readers, including but not limited to @the-unforgivenn, @lofaewrites, @lokis-army-77, and @corroded-hellfire, and to @hellfire--cult for the divider. I am forever indebted to y'all.

chapter one: room for one more

It was always the quiet nights, wasn't it? The ones where the only sounds came from cars barreling down Queens Boulevard and splashing through puddles left by an earlier rainstorm, or from the clock ticking on the wall.

The ones where your mind wandered until you’d thought yourself in circles, overanalyzing every last decision you had ever made.

The ones where you allowed your guard just down enough that the slightest oddity threw you off-balance—something or someone out of place.

It was during the quiet nights like that night where you should have expected the unexpected, because New York City never stayed still for long.

The evening’s sluggishness was normal; tourism always slowed in the springtime. The newest shows on Broadway were already months old, not to mention the warmer weather brought both an uptick in crime and pollen count. If out-of-towners were going to schlep to the East Coast, they’d prefer to see the cherry blossoms hours south in Washington, DC than to get mugged on the 1 train.

Business picked up in the winter months when people flocked from around the world to witness the Thanksgiving Day Parade, the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, or Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve, even though they were several bus and subway transfers away. Outsiders to the tri-state area struggled to differentiate between boroughs; it was unfortunate for them, but you counted on it to keep business alive.

The only guests who consistently frequented your family’s motel were junkies looking for a place to shoot up away from the NYPD’s watchful gaze or affair-havers who were considerate enough not to sully their marriage beds—just their vows. You were in no position to judge; their money was what kept the lights on, but it was impossible not to compare your clientele to the suits who stayed at the Marriott down the street. They wouldn‘t even allow homeless folks to sit within twenty-five feet of the building, let alone stay under their roof.

You leaned on the desk, wood grain pinching your elbows. You tapped your pencil against your textbook as you read, its margins cluttered with notes about different types of parent-child attachment styles.

Sleep prickled at the corners of your eyes, blurring the words on the page in front of you. Focus.

Secure attachment occurs when—no, you’d already read this line. Twice.

“Dammit,” you muttered under your breath, gently slapping your cheeks in a futile attempt to stay awake. Taking a full course load instead of your usual part-time was your academic advisor’s ill-conceived idea, bolstered by the prospect of an earlier graduation. In your haste, you’d neglected to consider two important factors: all of your studying now had to be done during your night shifts, and graduating meant telling your parents a truth they were unready to hear.

They were so proud of the motel, regardless of its reputation. It might as well have been The Plaza from the way your dad boasted about it. The three of you shared an unspoken understanding that you worked the front desk because paying an actual employee would put them under. Maybe if finances weren’t so tight, you could have freely admitted that your future plans didn’t involve taking over the business.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as your head rested on your book, a small puddle of drool pooling atop Bowlby’s theories.

Ping ping ping ping!

Time slowly stretched out before you, your conscious brain clawing its way out of its hazy fog. It took a beat for you to recognize that the incessant noise came from someone repeatedly smacking the tiny bell that sat on the desk.

“Hey, hello?” an impatient voice called out, jolting you from your impromptu nap. You blinked away the residual sleepiness and took in the sight in front of you: a curly-haired man, likely not much older than you were, a cigarette that had been nearly smoked down to the filter tucked between his lips. He had a patched guitar case strapped to his back and clutched a black garbage bag filled with what you hoped was clothing.

“Sorry,” you grumbled, wiping the moisture from your chin. “Need a room?”

“Mhm.” You could practically hear his eye roll: no, I just stopped by in the middle of the night for a quick chat. Fancy a cup of tea and a scone?

He plopped the garbage bag on the ground; its soft landing and the way it wrinkled told you that whatever was inside was, thankfully, not a body.

You nodded and turned around to the wall of keys behind you. There was no shortage of rooms; the only occupied one was being rented by Phyllis, a sixty-year-old self-described ‘entertainer of gentleman’ who paid double her bill in exchange for your silence.

He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray on the countertop, grinding it into the base for good measure. “How much per night?” he asked, digging into his pants pocket and pulling out a wallet held together with duct tape.

“Fifteen.”

The man breathed out, his bangs fanning over his forehead. “Jesus.” He fished two twenties and a five from the billfold and placed them in front of you. “This should cover me until Friday, yeah?”

Nodding, you folded the bills and tucked them into the register kept under the desk, only accessible by key because of a series of break-ins during the late ‘70s.

The man lit another cigarette as you pulled out the ledger and a pen. “Name and date here,” you said, pointing to the ‘check in’ column. He took a drag before scrawling his name on the line: Eddie Munson, 5-4-93.

“All right, you’ll be in…” you scanned the assortment of keys dangling from their hooks. The walls were thin, and this guy seemed decent enough, so you decided to spare him the theatrical sound effects of Phyllis’s room 10 endeavors. “…room 4. Make a right down the hallway, and it’ll be the second door. Can’t miss it if you try.”

Your attempt at humor fell flat, both of you too exhausted to laugh. You strode past it, clearing your throat as if dispelling the tension. When you placed the key in his calloused palm, you couldn’t help but notice that the base of each fingertip is a half-shade paler than the rest of his skin.

“Thanks.” Eddie mumbled. He tapped the cigarette above the ashtray, the gray flakes falling into a neat pile. His right bicep flexed underneath his denim jacket as he heaved the garbage bag over his shoulder, careful not to bang it against the guitar.

He scuttled out of the tiny room masquerading as a lobby, shoulders hunched from the weight of the bag and of the burdens he inevitably carried. No one shows up to a motel in the middle of the night without a story or two.

After years of greeting guests at the front desk, you liked to think you had a decent read on them. Eddie was quiet, maybe even introspective, but not necessarily shy. He was tired; no, more than that: he was worn down, like so many other people who had come through these doors.

Most importantly, Eddie didn’t seem like he'd be much trouble. He didn’t stumble in wasted and reeking of booze or fidgeting as he awaited a fix. He wasn’t shouting or poorly concealing a wandering eye or making lewd comments. He’d made pretty much no impression at all besides being a bit gruff, which was just fine with you. Your personality wasn't composed of rainbows and sunshine at this hour either.

You looked at the clock and sighed when it only read 2:17. It’s already tomorrow, you thought grimly. Just under four hours until you could walk ten feet to your room, curl up in your bed, and sleep until it was time for your afternoon class. After years of balancing school and work, you were in the last two weeks of your final semester, and then…what? You casually inform your parents that you were leaving the family business–essentially forcing them to close it–to pursue a career in social work?

That was sure to go over well.

To their knowledge, you were studying hotel management and hospitality in order to “improve the business.” That was why they’d relented when you’d asked to start taking classes, switching you over to the night shift to avoid having to hire a new employee.

What they didn’t know is that your school didn’t even offer that as a major. Nor were they aware of the acceptance letter into NYU’s Masters of Social Work program that was stashed inside your dresser drawer, hidden from sight. That was a conversation for another day when you found the strength to face their disappointment.

Chaos waited to strike until the end of your shift.

Just as you packed your book back into your bag, a familiar, skunky odor wafted past your nostrils.

Ignore it, you thought. Let it be Dad’s problem when he takes over in five minutes. But if you could smell it, so could any of the cops patrolling the boulevard. One more citation and the motel was in jeopardy of being permanently shut down, and you couldn’t take that risk.

With a frustrated sigh, you yanked open the desk drawer and reached in for a pen, instead pulling out an unopened box of crayons. A twenty-four pack of Crayola—the good kind. You plucked a waxy cornflower blue from its spot and scribbled Be back soon on a Post-It note, sticking it on the front of the desk. Grabbing the pepper spray canister from its spot next to the register, just in case, you started down the hall. Marijuana wasn’t Phyllis’s drug of choice, though it might have been one of her various gentleman suitors’, but the scent was too strong to be coming all the way from room 10.

Maybe this Eddie Munson was trouble, afterall.

You knocked on his door, firmly but without aggression. It certainly wasn’t the first time you interrupted someone’s buzz, and it wouldn’t be the last. You knew better than to go in guns a-blazing; it’s easier to catch flies with sugar than vinegar.

Eddie opened it after a moment, cracking it halfway and revealing a lit joint pinched between his plush lips. One forearm was perched on the doorframe, showing off faded ink of a litter of flying bats and a dragon-esque creature. He was clad in only navy blue boxer briefs, but his lack of attire was no surprise. Many guests were shameless, not bothering to cover the holes in their Fruit of the Loom tighty-whities and showcasing faded yellow stains on the crotch. What confused you was the elastic waistband proudly proclaiming ‘Calvin Klein’ that cut off the soft hair trailing from his belly button. It seemed absurd that he would have been lugging around any designer clothes in that trash bag, but there was no other possibility.

“Can I help you?” he asked, shaking his curly bangs out of his face. Half-lidded brown eyes scanned your form, trying to determine whether you were a narc or trying to bum some bud off of him. His window was cracked open enough to let in fresh air, which also meant that the acrid smell could easily be let out.

“You can’t smoke that here,” you reported matter-of-factly, just as you had a million times before. When he cocked a challenging brow, you continued. “Cigarettes are fine, but no weed. The police will come after us and you.”

He looked around the room, unbothered, and absentmindedly scratched at his bare chest. A demon’s head was sketched just above a sparse patch of hair. Under different circumstances, or maybe in another life altogether, you would’ve asked him about his tattoos; if they had some philosophical meaning or were the products of spur-of-the-moment decisions. You could have blathered on about the ideas you had for your own future tattoos, if you ever worked up the nerve to actually get one.

“You mean to tell me that with all of the skeevy shit that goes on around here, the cops are gonna waste their time on a little pot?” He scoffed and took another defiant pull, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling away from you.

I guess chivalry isn’t dead, you mused, stifling an eye roll. “No, but they’re always looking for an excuse to ‘investigate,’’' you threw air-quotes around the last word, “so they can bust us for more serious things, and that is the perfect one.” You gestured to the joint only to be met with an eye roll. “Look, you can either put it out, smoke it somewhere else, or you can leave. Full refund, but you can’t stay here.”

His stare locked onto your steely eyes and clenched jaw, only breaking when you’d straightened your posture to stand your ground. “Whatever,” he huffed, but he snuffed it out. A glimmer of a smile danced on his lips, disappearing nearly as quickly as it arrived. Despite its fleeting nature, it managed to thaw you enough so that your arms weren’t held quite so tight to your body, your expression less rigid. “Just trying to relax and get some sleep, like you were while you were supposed to be ‘working.’” It’s his turn to supply the air-quotes, both in mockery and as a gotcha. A teasing lilt elevated his voice, smoothing out the edge he’d greeted you with earlier.

“I wasn’t sleeping, just…resting my eyes,” you volleyed back, your smirk betraying any semblance of the tough façade you’d worn.

Eddie crossed his arms and walked over to the garbage bag of clothes. He rummaged through it for a moment before procuring a pair of gray sweatpants, stepping into them hurriedly as though he just remembered his minimal attire.

“Maybe if you chose more interesting reading material, you wouldn’t be sl—resting your eyes on the job,” he amended, gesturing to the textbook in your canvas tote bag. “Ever heard of Stephen King?”

“I live in a motel, not under a rock.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You live here?”

Shit. That wasn’t information you regularly divulged. Sure, this guy seemed harmless, but looks can be deceiving. Prime example: wearing designer underwear while using a trash bag in lieu of a suitcase.

It was too late to double back, so you nodded. “Yeah,” you admitted reluctantly. The sole of your sneaker dug into the old carpet.

Eddie looked like he wanted to say more, lips parted and eyes wide like there was a follow-up question sitting on the tip of his tongue. Before he could ask it, your gaze landed on the clock radio: six AM on the dot.

“I need to go,” you said hurriedly. Shame at your sudden shyness burned a hole in your belly. Eddie Munson was a guest; for all intents and purposes, he was a total stranger. There was no reason to be intimidated by him. “Good luck falling asleep,” you added with a weak smile.

The easy banter that had been building between you dissipated in an instant, taking his good mood with it. His goodbye was a sardonic salute, the mattress springs creaking wearily as soon as you closed the door behind you.

Sure enough, your dad was in the tiny lobby, assessing some peeling wallpaper. “Gotta fix that,” he mumbled to himself, thumbnail picking at it aimlessly. He turned around when he heard the door open and smiled when he saw you.

“Sorry, I was helping out a guest,” you rushed to explain, hoping he wasn't too anxious to find the desk left unattended.

The wrinkles in your dad’s forehead became more pronounced. “Is everything alright?” The phrase ‘helping out a guest’ could range from unclogging a toilet to calling the police for a domestic dispute.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reassured him quickly, flashing an exaggerated thumbs-up. “No law enforcement necessary. Didn’t even need to use the pepper spray.” You waved the canister in your palm before placing it back.

He beamed, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your scalp. “It’s times like this where I just know I’ll be leaving this place in good hands.”

You swallowed the bile that crept up your throat and feigned a smile when he pulled you in for a tight hug. The mingled scents of Irish Spring soap and drugstore aftershave tickled your nose, and tears stung along your lash line.

If only you knew, you thought, giving him one last squeeze before you headed to your room. Disappointed wouldn’t even begin to cover it.

Your parents would never say the word aloud; they’d look at each other and heave identical weighted sighs. Their lifelong goal of a long-standing family business would vanish in the blink of an eye. Dad would pretend there was a chance that they could afford a new hire, even going so far as to fumble through the years of financial statements before inevitably throwing in the towel; Mom would force a pained smile and hoarsely encourage you to follow your dreams, even at the expense of theirs.

You shook the thought away as you trudged towards your room, sneakered feet like sandbags below you. Dwelling on this scenario had you teetering on the brink of insanity, so you’d willed yourself to focus on something else. Anything else.

Like the motel’s newest guest and his smile. The way it softened the hard lines on his face, offering you a glimpse of how he wore happiness. Something about it made you want to see him happy again.

You can’t even figure out how to make yourself happy, you thought, peeling back the starchy sheets and finally crawling into bed, much less a stranger. For all you knew, he was just relaxed because his high was starting to kick in, and not from some warming presence you’d supplied.

The sun cracked pink through the sky, visible through the paper-thin curtains hanging on the window. You had become accustomed to this backwards routine, able to fall asleep while daylight broke. It took a few extra moments this time; you were anticipating marijuana-tinged fumes to float through the vents when Eddie ignored your instructions.

It was that flicker of a smile that had you almost certain he would spark up once you’d left. The smile of someone who so naturally flouted authority that he no longer bragged about it. Yet time ticked by without a hint of evidence that he was smoking again.

Which begged the question: if the smile didn’t signify defiance, what did it mean?

Eddie Munson is definitely trouble, you surmised just before you drifted off, but nothing you can’t handle.

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wangsejabin · 1 year

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Chapter 88

When Wanshu arrived at the residence of the eldest county princess, Wanxian, the third county princess, Wanchan, was leading her sister, the fourth county princess, Wan Pui-yin, outside.

Wanchan was a year younger than Wanshu, less than eight years old, and had the same bright appearance as Hu Liangdi. Unlike her mother and sister, Pui-yin was a shy girl who spoke little.

"Second sister, come to talk to big sister? Pui-yin and I were just going back."

"Seeing as it's still early, I came to talk to Big Sister, so you can go back and get some rest early too." Wanshu straightened her spine and said with a serene smile.

Wanxian heard Wanshu's voice and welcomed her as she came out.

Wanchan answered, nodded again to Wanxian, and led Pui-yin away.

"Fourth sister has just divided the courtyard and is a little uncomfortable, so third sister will bring her to sit with me." Wanxian said.

"Fourth sister is a bit timid, we should let her stay with third sister for a few days and then live on her own when she gets used to it." Wanshu spoke to her on one side, and the two of them went into the house.

At the other end, Wan Chan led her back to the courtyard, and just as she walked through the door she said, "Guess where she went to big sister's?"

Pui-yin hesitated and shook her head.

There was something about her sister's clumsiness that Yuan Chan hated.

"She must have gone from Fifth Sister's place, don't believe me when I go in and ask Little Dengzi."

Sure enough when she went in, Wan Chan called Little Dengzi to ask, and the answer she got was that the Second Princess had just come out of the Fifth Princess' courtyard and had gone to the First Princess.

"You see what I said, don't you? No wonder Mother said that dragons give birth to phoenixes and mice's sons will make holes, this Second Sister of ours is just like that mother of hers."

The original words were spoken by Hu Liangdi, who had overheard them and now used them to teach her sister.

"Be careful when you deal with her in the future, don't let her sell you out and count your silver."

In a whisper, she said, "I think second sister is quite nice."

Under Wan Chan's glare, her voice grew lower and lower until it was silenced.

"Can a hypocrite still be seen to be hypocritical? Mother has said so, so you just listen. Besides, do you think she is really good? If you don't believe me, go to Fifth Sister's courtyard now and see how angry she is. When something happens in the East House, Jidetang is so up in arms, people who don't know think that Jidetang people are very fond of the people in the East House."

Wan Chan went on and on, and as she dared not make her sister angry, all she could do was nod as she listened.

After sending off Wanshu, Wanxian's personal palace maid Xiaohe said, "County Mistress, why do you need to say those things to the Second County Mistress, the Third County Mistress has brought the Fourth County Mistress only to visit the house, there is no need to make the Second County Mistress think that we are weak-minded instead."

Wan Xian was reading a book, her fair and clear face looked extraordinarily crystal clear in the light.

At her words, she raised her head, "It's just a sentence of work, let's talk about it if we can, so that we don't start a rift."

"Slave servant is just tired for you."

Tired?

As the sisters grew older, the eldest county princess, being the eldest sister, had become the pivot between the sisters. The Second Mistress came to the First Mistress when she had a problem, the Third Mistress also came to the First Mistress when she had a problem, but the Fifth Mistress did not come to her much.

However, Xiao He thinks that the Fifth Mistress is still young, so when she is older and knows more, she will probably come too.

In fact, it is not a big deal to come to see her once in a while, just as a sisterly visit, but the mother of the Third and Fourth Counties is Hu Liang Di, the mother of the Second Counties is the Crown Princess, and the mother of the First Counties, Xu Liang Yuan, is close to the Crown Princess.

The fact that there is something else happening in the East Palace, such as this time, is a bit awkward as they are all coming together.

The First Mistress was caught in the middle, otherwise she wouldn't have taken the trouble to say those words to the Second Mistress when they ran into each other at the entrance.

"It's lucky that Fifth County Princess doesn't like to say such trivial things, or else you would ...... be in the middle, County Princess."

Wan Xian was amused by Xiao He's appearance and nudged her forehead with her finger.

As the two were talking, Sister Shan walked in and said, "Xiao He, the County Mistress is reading a book, don't disturb her, go out and play."

The room immediately quietened down, Xiao He glanced at Wan Xian and bowed and retreated.

"Sister, Xiao He is not disturbing me, it's just that I am tired of reading and talking to her."

"Grand Prefect, don't think that old slave has a broken mouth, let old slave observed that this Xiao He is becoming more and more impertinent, relying on the fact that you love her, Princess, and dare to say anything in front of you. You are right to do so. You must not get involved in the conflict between the Hall of Virtue and the Western Courtyard, but when the Third Mistress comes, you can deal with it for the sake of sisterhood. I believe that if I were to say this to Liang Yuan, she would also be of the same opinion."

Wan Xian pursed her lips and did not speak.

Sister Shan was not wrong, and she thought the same thing, but Xiao He did not have bad intentions, she just felt sorry for her and thought that she was tired of living as the eldest sister of the First Mistress, but she was too concerned about the feelings of the Second Mistress, and had compromised her status.

Sometimes Wanxian hated herself for thinking too much about the future, but what could she do if she didn't want to, after all, the Second Western House was not comparable to the First Eastern House and the First Western House.

"Sister, don't chastise Xiao He either, I'll just teach her more in the future."

"Since Your Highness has said so, old slave will naturally listen to Your Highness."

In the East Courtyard.

After a love affair, Pan'er didn't even bother to move.

"Get up and go wash up."

"I don't want to move."

Pan'er dawdled, not wanting to move, but only after seeing the Prince call someone in did she put on her clothes and go to the bathing room.Once she had bathed, changed into clean bedclothes and lay down on the couch, she felt much more comfortable.

It was just the beginning of May, and it was already so hot.

What the prince was thinking about was the drought in Shaanxi and Gansu, as reported by the Governor of Shaanxi and Gansu.

If the situation is properly remedied, it may be possible to salvage some of the damage during the autumn harvest.

But how to do it and who to send it to, it needs to be deliberated.

He was once too disappointed with the efficiency of the court, which had to discuss many times who belonged to which faction, how to divide the interests of the factions, and how to achieve a balance, not for you, and naturally not for me.

But when he was really in the middle of it, he could understand the hardships involved. Sometimes it's not that you can't give in, but you have to. Because once you give in, it's not a step, what you might give up is a head start, an opportunity, a lot.

But then again, he was particularly tired of it. During the daytime it was fine in front of people, but when it was late at night, he could not stop sighing.

"Your Highness, why don't you sleep, is there something on your mind?" He thought Pan'er had fallen asleep, but she stayed awake, moved and leaned over.

"Why are you still awake? It's nothing really, just some matters in the court."

Once she heard that it was a matter in the court, Pan'er stopped asking questions, and the prince didn't mean to say more, and changed the subject: "Right, the court may have to go to the Western Garden for summer vacation in the next two days, so you should make preparations in advance, so that you won't be busy then."

"Go to summer vacation, will you go then, Your Highness?" Pan'er was intrigued.

Ever since the West Garden had been overhauled, Emperor Cheng'an had been keen to go to the West Garden to enjoy the sights and sounds, and he would go there once or twice a year.

"Naturally, I must go." His father would not be at ease if he did not go.

The rest of the sentence was left unspoken by the Crown Prince. In the past two years, Emperor Cheng'an had become more and more wary of him, but it seemed that he knew it was useless to be wary, so his methods had become simpler and more brutal, which roughly speaking meant that wherever he went, he had to take the Crown Prince with him.

The two of them said a few more words and then went to bed, and the night went on without a word.

The next day, in the afternoon, someone from the Hall of Virtue invited Pan'er over to discuss the matter of going to the Western Garden for a summer holiday.

When Pan'er arrived, Hu Liangdi, Xu Liangyuan and others were there, all concubines of the Eastern Palace who had children at the moment.

The Prince Consort didn't make much small talk, and told them about going to the West Court for the summer, including the number of days they would be there, and how many servants and how much luggage they could bring.

Although it was the Eastern Palace, naturally it was not possible for the whole palace to go, and those who could go were all the concubines who had children.

In the past few years, no more people had been admitted to the Eastern Palace, and there had been one selection of a show in between, when Empress Fu wanted to add someone to the Eastern Palace, but the Crown Prince had refused. In addition to Pan'er, there have been other children born in the past few years, both of whom were senior members of the Eastern Palace, one being Hu Liangdi and the other He Liangyuan.

He Liang Yuan gave birth to Wan Ling, the sixth county princess, in the twenty-third year of Cheng An, and Hu Liang Di gave birth to Zong Jue, the fourth son, in the twenty-fourth year of Cheng An.

Hu Liangdi finally gave birth to a son, so she had her wish fulfilled, and had stopped causing trouble in the past few years. It is not this that surprises Pan'er, but the fact that in her previous life, the second prince, Prince Wu, Zong Xuan, became the fourth prince in this life because of her early involvement, and his name is still Zong Xuan.

There was another person worth mentioning, that Zhong Liangyuan, who gave birth to the fifth prince, Zong Mui, in the twenty-fourth year of Cheng'an.

It was only after the birth of the fifth son that she remembered that in her previous life, the seventh prince, King An, was called Zong Mui, after hearing that the prince had named him Zong Mui.

What about the fifth and sixth princes? And if she remembered correctly, King An's mother had died early, which was why she had no recollection of Zhong Liangyuan.

But she was absent because since she had given birth, she had not been well and had been ill for half of the month. The whole Eastern Palace was aware of this, so she would not go on this summer vacation to the Western Garden.

As expected, the Crown Princess mentioned this alone again.

"I ordered someone to ask Liang-Yuan Zhong, but she is not feeling well again, so she will not go to the Western Garden. I hope you will be careful not to cause trouble for the Eastern Palace."

"Yes."

"All right, all of you, retire and go back to your respective preparations."

When she heard that she was going to the West Court to escape the summer heat, Wan Yin came to the East Courtyard as soon as she returned from the girls' school.

"Mother, do we really have to go to the Western Garden? Then can I bring Little Red with me." Little Red was the name of the horse that the Prince had gotten for her, a brownish-red filly.

Wan Yin was anxious to practise riding lately and was very attached to her beloved horse, usually going to the stables even if she wasn't riding. To see if the lackeys had treated her little red one harshly, if she had been served well and so on.

"It's useless for you to ask Mother about this, or ask your father, there are many hills and waters in the Western Garden, what are you doing riding a horse?"

The last time Wan Yin had been to the Western Garden was when she was three years old, she didn't know anything then and she felt that she barely remembered anything, except that there was this one thing. Everyone in the palace said that the Western Garden was good and fun, so she wanted to take Little Red with her, playing with the idea of not forgetting to practise riding, but who knew that Pan'er's words would leave her demoralised.

"You really can't ride a horse, can you?"

Pan'er saw her daughter's pouting face full of displeasure and pulled her into her arms: "Mother leaves you alone every day, you've become a wild girl, this time not only the people of the East Palace, in addition to your grandfather and grandmother, there are also many of your grandfather's concubines, as well as Qi Wangfu, Chu Wangfu and several other royal families, you bring Little Red there, it is obvious that you are giving your grandmother trouble, when the time comes people talk about that wild girl from the Crown Prince's household, how will you make your imperial grandmother respond?"

"Who dares to say that I am the Prince's wild daughter? Besides, Mother, your daughter is not a wild girl, how can you say that about her?" Wan Yingyin did not relent.

#mtl #yingchong

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artwithaba · 2 years

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I think my fascination with Korea, namedly South Korea, and Korean Art began after I watched my first Korean drama (K-drama) with my mum. It was a period drama and their outfits, the colours, the fabrics, the paintings and the overall storyline just drew me in and from then I was hooked. My fascination later extended to K-pop and as an overarching concept Korean art and artistic expression as a whole. It is so different to what I have been exposed to most of my life in the form of American art and history or art from my own cultural background (I’m half Ghanaian). I believe I have always been intrigued by East Asian art and history. I clearly remember learning about Ancient China in my early years in high school and being so fascinated by it and excited to learn about it. It was a topic that I thrived in but as I grew through high school I forgot about it. The reintroduction of an East Asian culture back into my life reignited that fascination and this time it’ll be an interest I see through and explore more about.

Deciding what is historical and contemporary is something that is very debated and often does not have very clear margins for definition and in terms of the whole concept of art this makes sense, as often everything flows and influences each other and oftentimes divides are defined by big movements that occur. However, in terms of historical art when I am discussing Korean art and history, I will mostly be looking at artefacts, pieces and events that were created/occurred prior to the Korean War, before June 1950. Anything relating to the Korean War and forward I will class as “contemporary”, this being from June 1950 onwards as the Korean War began on the 25th of June 1950 and ended on the 27th of July 1953. Now, I understand that this is most likely not how a historian or art history major would define it, but as I am neither I just find that this is an easy way to differentiate these two concepts and allows me to put in a definite barrier between the two. This also allows for some overlap as pieces that were created to reflect events that lead up to the war are able to be discussed within the historical and contemporary realms of Korean art.

I recently went on a holiday to South Korea and was truly amazed by how this country has perfectly blended old and new and the pride that they have in their history. I will discuss my trip and the galleries and museums that I visited in length in future posts to come. But one thing is for sure, the trip cemented my curiosity to explore and understand Korean history, culture and art. Throughout this blog I plan to discuss certain pieces that I have either personally seen or have researched about, their significance in Korean history or contemporary culture, the artist behind the piece (if there is one) and my understanding of the piece. Sadly, my current Korean ability is limited to a very small selection of phrases that helped me get through my trip so with the help of google translate I will try my best to use Korean resources in my research to ensure that I have the most accurate information to present to you.

I am truly looking forward to discussing topics such as art within palaces and their meanings, moon jars, the meaning of tigers, how historical art got their colours, my trip to the National Museum of Korea and a memorable exhibit I saw at Busan Museum of Art. There is so much to learn, discover and appreciate about this rich ever evolving culture and country.

#art #artcurator #contemporaryart #historical #korean art #south korea #culture

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nightingaelic · 3 years

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could you do Fallout New Vegas companion’s reactions to a Courier Six who is also the Lone Wanderer telling their stories from their time in DC? (bonus points for Arcade’s reaction to them hating the enclave, and if that would make him decide to keep his past hidden even longer, or if he would still tell them?)

The logistics and implications of this make my head spin. This is also super long, honestly I should just quit writing reacts and start writing fics OH WAIT

Getting the courier talking was a tough thing to do, but on nights where the moon was full and the coyotes' howls were miles away or at least behind some stout walls, on nights where they were a few beers in and they hadn't seen another living soul in a few days, that Mojave Express deliverer started to reminisce. That wasn't really the surprising part, though. No, the surprising part was what they would remember, fondly or not-so-fondly: A world apart from the desert, a continent away on another coast, and stories of life in a vault, a missing father, pure water and a Brotherhood divided.

Arcade Gannon: Arcade didn't mind these moods, at least when they first cropped up. He nodded along as the courier talked about living in their father's shadow, about feeling cornered by their own family's legacy. He hung on their words about living in the cradle of America's history, about Project Purity, all of the gritty details of modifying a GECK to bring water to a devastated wasteland.

Eventually though, the courier's memories soured, with the arrival of Enclave remnants in their life. Arcade folded into himself with every harsh word, every jolt of plasma that had disrupted his friend's world relived in horrific detail. They gestured angrily as they described their newfound purpose, their battle for power with the fractured Brotherhood of Steel at their back, and their smug satisfaction at the moments they were able to crack open Raven Rock and the Enclave's mobile base crawler and lay waste to their tormentors.

It took a few rounds of these stories before the courier noticed he shrank and grew quiet whenever they neared the end of their story about breaking into another vault to find the GECK. They stopped abruptly one night. "What's up with you?"

"Um..." Arcade scratched the back of his neck and looked away. "Nothing. Nothing, I just... have some personal experience with the Enclave, myself."

The courier sighed. "Yeah, there's a few people walking around the West Coast that have similar stories to mine. Arroyo's full of them, for one. Is it something like that?"

Arcade took a deep breath. "I feel... well, it's a lot closer to home, for me. Close enough to raise questions, so I don't talk about it much."

"Close enough to..." The courier twisted their face up in confusion for a moment, before realization set in and their eyes grew large. "You were... your... oh."

"Mmm-hm."

"Well, fuck me." The courier smiled and popped a cap off of another beer. "I've been doing all the talking, haven't I? Let's hear your story about working with the guys in power armor who ruined my life, right after dad did."

Craig Boone: Whenever the courier started up like this, Boone couldn't help but notice a familiar twinge of regret and self-doubt in their voice. It shone through most clearly when they spoke about their time with the Brotherhood of Steel, the men and women they'd fought alongside and lost during their struggle against the remnants of the Enclave. It was there, too, in their story about returning to the vault they grew up in, setting the chaos that had arisen in their wake to rest, but not being able to go back to the way things were.

Boone didn't pry. He knew that feeling well. Instead, he cracked open bottles of beer, liquor, soda, whatever they had on hand during their nights in the desert, and just listened. He'd done the same for Carla, when they were younger and new to each other and he couldn't get enough of her voice and how it flowed endlessly, easily, the way his never could. He absorbed it all now as he did then: The joy, the pain, the loss, the fear, the triumphs and falls and abandoned dreams that filled the courier up and drove them to travel west, beyond anything they had ever known.

That last part stumped Boone a bit, though. "Why didn't you stay?" he finally asked one night.

They looked surprised. "Stay? Stay where? I didn't have a home anymore."

Boone shook his head. "With the Brotherhood. Or some other settlement."

"Like Megaton?" The courier sighed. "I thought about it. Close to the vault, friendly people, easy work... I guess I just didn't want to wind up... stuck."

They flushed red and looked away from him. Boone knew why they were embarrassed, but he also knew the truth in their words.

Sometimes the courier cried after they had finished, though they did their best to hide it. Boone pretended not to notice. He was pretty sure they knew he was pretending, but he was also pretty sure that pointing it out would be worse than just letting it be an open secret between them. The silence between them endured, but something grew inside it and flourished. Some kind of deeper understanding.

Lily Bowen: The more the courier spoke, the more Lily made connections in her muddled mind. Of course they knew the basic layout of most vaults, they had grown up in one. Of course they were extra-sensitive to the Mojave heat, they had come to the desert from the cooler of the two coasts. Of course they'd been extra-wary around the super mutants or nightkin of Jacobstown, they had only known angry super mutants looking to grow their own numbers through any means necessary.

Their shared experience of growing up inside a vault reminded Lily of happier days, and she often asked questions about Vault 101 during the courier's stories. "Were you sweet on anyone inside your old home?" she asked, with a big smile befitting a proud grandma.

The courier blushed. "That's not very polite, Lily."

"Oh, I'm sorry, dearie."

"No, no it's okay." The courier smiled. "There was a boy who picked on me a lot, but I never figured out whether he did it because he hated me or liked me. His name was Butch. And there was Amata, my childhood friend. She was the daughter of the Overseer."

"Daughter of the Overseer?" Lily grinned. "I'm sure she was a lovely young woman."

The courier looked a little misty. "Yeah. She was. Probably still is."

Lily pulled a handkerchief that used to be a small tablecloth from inside her overalls and handed it over. "Maybe we can go back there together, pumpkin," she offered. "I always wanted to travel to the capital. We can visit your friends, see the sights."

"Yeah, maybe someday." The courier accepted the gift and blew their nose. "I've got some things I need to finish up here before I even think about wandering back east, though."

"Then let's make a list and do our chores," Lily said happily. "Number one?"

"Ohhhh, man." The courier smiled up at her. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul got a faint smile on his face whenever the courier started up like this, as if their memories reminded him of another place he had come from, another time. While they couldn't have more different backgrounds, pasts- hell, he had several hundred years on the courier, even if they shared the same road today- there was something in the description of the other roads they had walked that made him feel warm on a cold night.

"What's on your mind?" The courier asked him one night, when Raul's smile grew larger than usual.

"Nada, boss," he reassured them. "You're just a good reminder that I can change my mind about the future anytime I'd like. Tell me the one about that radio DJ again."

"Again?" The courier rolled their eyes. "Why? I could tell you a million stories about Underworld and all the ghouls that lived there, but all you want to hear about is Three Dog. You'd probably have more in common with the Underworld folks, honestly."

Raul nodded noncommittally. "Sí, but my favorite stories are about people who had to rise above bad situations and become someone uncommon. Anyone who's able to do that is either fighting for something great or running from something terrible. Sometimes both."

The courier shot him a skeptical look. "Three Dog's holed up in his radio station 24/7, he's not running from anything or out fighting for anything. All that stuff about 'the good fight' is a load of bull."

"Now, now, Six," Raul chastised. "Just because he looks like your average pendejo doesn't mean he isn't doing his part. You even told me his radio show is inspirational for the Capital Wasteland folks."

The courier held their hands up in the air and bobbled them, as if balancing an invisible scale. "The duality of man. Being an average pendejo, or convincing everyone around you that you aren't actually an average pendejo and can pull off miracles."

Raul laughed. "And which one are you, boss?"

"Eh, I'm still figuring it out."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Cass was never one for fixating on her own past, but she couldn't help but sympathize with the courier whenever they deigned to add onto their unbelievable story. It was hard enough for her to navigate her own damn life: She couldn't imagine being called upon to steer an entire area's destiny.

After another night of recalling their life inside a vault with their dad, then their unexpected loss of him right after being reunited on the surface, the courier stopped suddenly. "I'm sorry," they said.

Cass paused her swig of precious whiskey. "What?"

"I keep going on and on about my dad, and here you are not knowing what happened to yours."

"Eh." Cass took her drink and waved her hand around until the burning swallow made its way down. "S'loads of people in the wasteland without a clue what happened to their pops. I'm not special. In fact, I'd say it probably hurts a bit more, what happened with yours."

"Well, all the same." The courier sank deeper into their seat and examined their own bottle of spirits. "I feel like an open book, tonight. Anything you want to know about where I came from that I haven't already spilled?"

Cass thought for a moment. "Tribals."

"What about them?"

"Does the East Coast have them? You're not the first traveler I've met from there, but none of you have so much as mentioned any tribals out east."

"Mmm." The courier looked thoughtful. "I guess we do have them, though maybe not in the traditional sense. There's a mess of them in Point Lookout for sure, and at least one tribal group in the Capital Wasteland outright, but beyond that things are more... loose. Fewer intact families, fewer intact homes."

"Huh." Cass took another drink. "Maybe that's where my dad went."

She let the courier stew in the awkward silence for a bit before she grinned and reached out to smack them. "Just kidding. Keep going. I want to hear about that giant robot again."

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica usually sat and listened, spellbound, picturing a chapter of her order that had realized the very thing she kept trying to tell the Elders and made the ultimate sacrifice to follow their hearts anyway.

Well, maybe Elder Owyn Lyons hadn't come to the same realization as her, but he had had a change of heart that split his company and cut them off from almost everyone they had ever known. It had been five years since the High Elders had instituted radio silence toward their East Coast chapter, and so far there had been no attempts to re-establish contact.

Veronica prodded the courier for any info she could get about the Capital Wasteland Brotherhood of Steel. The courier let slip pretty early in their friendship that Elder Owyn Lyons had passed away, which wasn't unexpected. The man was 76 years old, after all. She learned on one particularly emotional night that his daughter, Elder Sarah Lyons, was also dead, something she wasn't sure even the Western Elders were aware of. That memory was clearly painful for the courier though, so Veronica didn't press for details.

"And the Enclave?" the Scribe asked one night, arms wrapped around her knees. "Are they completely gone?"

The courier grew cold. "Yes. I made sure of it."

"Right." Veronica nodded. "So the Brotherhood took over the air force base they were at. It must have been chock-full of tech and resources, if it was the Enclave's last stand."

"It was." The courier sighed and shifted in their seat. "And it woke up some of our brothers and sisters to their original mission in the Capital Wasteland. I thought maybe that selfishness had died with Liberty Prime, but... well, I didn't like it, so I left."

"Mmm, yeah." Veronica nodded again, sympathetically this time. "I know how you feel. Felt."

"Feel," the courier agreed. "I just wish there was more I could've done. Maybe there wasn't anything else, short of seizing power."

"You'd definitely get pushback for that in the Brotherhood," Veronica agreed. "But you might get that chance out here in the broader Mojave."

ED-E: At first, ED-E enjoyed the stories, trumpeting and cooing various beeps at the appropriate moments for emphasis. The one time the courier began badmouthing the Enclave, however, the eyebot waited until they had finished before playing back the first tape that Dr. Whitley had recorded before its trip.

The courier listened to the scientist's words from years ago, deflating slightly as it played out. When the tape had finished, they stood up and checked the eyebot over. "He sent you toward Navarro, huh?"

ED-E beeped affirmation, and the courier sighed. "But Navarro was already gone. I'm sorry. I guess I'm... well, me and the Brotherhood of Steel back east are responsible for your previous master's decision to send you away. Might be responsible for more, too."

ED-E beeped sadly. The courier pressed their forehead against the eyebot's metal dome in apology.

Rex: Well, surprising for most. Rex was not most. As soon as the courier got really into their recollections, Rex usually yawned and went to sleep. He stirred when he felt their hand reach down to scratch the ruff of his neck, or pat the glass dome that held his brain.

"Good dog," the courier said, through the veil of sleep. "You remind me of another pup that used to follow me around."

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needcake · 3 years

Text

whumptober 2021, day 3: taunting

The King of Northern Lusitania.

That was what his Marshal claimed to be now that he had taken the country without resistance.

France could barely conceal his disgust. The Marshal, standing by the window of a house he had confiscated from a noble family that had fled to Brazil along with the court, seemed to have forgotten for a moment that, although he had been appointed Ambassador to Portugal in the years before the invasion, he was far, far, from the succession line of the new country they would create after partitioning Portugal into three, and that this insubordination would not go unnoticed once the news of his claims reached Paris.

But this was a matter for another time. His last conversation with Spain before coming to Lisbon had left him with a persistent headache and his patience was wearing a little too thin.

“Is he here?” he limited himself to ask and the Marshal informed him that no, the man he wanted had been moved to another location after his last escape attempt. “Take me to him, then.”

He cared very little for the thoughts the Marshal was entertaining in his head as he stared at France, but the longer he went without complying to his order, the more France felt like breaking his nose.

At last a junior officer was called upon and he was taken down the street to an unmarked door, past the two soldiers posted at the entrance with their weapons on their shoulders, and up two flights of marble stairs. All the furniture and the ornaments in the house had been removed, every painting, every object on display, even the chandeliers. Of their existence, only the empty squares of faded color remained on the wallpaper.

The empty corridors echoed their footsteps and the young man guided him to a door at the far end, pulled a heavy keychain from his pocket and unlocked the door.

“I’ll have that now,” he told him and extended his hand. He hesitated, his eyes darting between France’s tight lips to the insignias in his uniform. He deposited the set of keys on France’s white gloves and stood at attention. “You can go wait downstairs now.”

He waited until the young officer had nodded and complied, his steps fading in the distance, before he breathed deeply in. The ache in his head was killing him.

The first thing he saw after he pushed the door open was Portugal’s furious green eyes, his body a shadow against the wall in the dark room.

“It’s a lovely day outside, you should open the curtains,” he said as he locked the door behind him. Portugal remained in silence, still glaring at him. France huffed a breath and walked to the window himself, throwing the curtains open and allowing light to enter the room. Portugal squinted at the sudden change in luminescence, but he soon glared at him again.

France allowed himself a small smirk.

“Do you remember when father dragged you back after your brilliant escape attempt while he was in the East? You looked at him like that too.”

“And he beat me,” Portugal said, his voice a little hoarse. From disuse, France presumed.

“Ah, yes,” he said lightly, unbuttoning his gloves. “Castile wouldn’t leave your bedside.”

“You said I deserved it.”

France held his gloves in one hand; looked at him in the eye. “You did.”

The growl that escaped his lips as he surged in his direction would have amused him were France not in such a terrible mood. Tackling him to the floor and twisting his arm behind his back took less effort now than when they were children.

He pressed his knee over his spine and Portugal stopped struggling, breathing hard into the wooden floorboards.

“You never learn, Ulterior,” he whispered above him, watching Portugal turn his head and snarl at him for the choice of name. “I’ll always win.”

“Get off me,” Portugal spat, but France only settled his weight more firmly down on him.

“You have always been too angry to be good at fighting, Portugal. Stop struggling before you hurt yourself.” He felt him breathe deeply a few times, but his body was still too coiled, still too tense for France to release him just yet.

He looked around the room and saw that it had been stripped bare of its ornaments as well. Only a few pieces of furniture remained.

“Father would have been disgusted with the way we treat our prisoners,” he commented out loud and felt Portugal shift beneath him.

“Stop calling Rome that,” Portugal said, but his voice was lower, his body less resistant.

“Why?” France asked, lowering his body over Portugal’s. “We’re sons of Rome, you and I. Us and the Italies are all that’s left.”

“Romania is still alive,” Portugal countered quietly, the fight finally draining from him, his fingers unclenching behind his back.

“That he is,” France whispered into his ear, brushed his lips against the soft cartilage and felt him shiver in his grasp. “Don’t worry, I’ll find him eventually.”

He released Portugal’s arm and felt his eyes on his back as he got to his feet and walked over to the bed.

“What was the nickname Castile had for you when we were kids?” he asked, sitting on the feather mattress, tucking his hair behind his ear. Portugal got up gingerly from the floor, dusted the knees of his simple cotton trousers.

“Lusi,” Portugal whispered, the word heavy in his mouth, laden with memories France did not know and did not care to know. He hummed, undoing the fastenings on his collar and breathing a little easier.

“Did you have a nickname for him as well?”

France followed Portugal’s eyes down his chest as he continued to undo the buttons of his uniform coat and smiled to himself.

“Dickhead,” Portugal told him and France snorted, undoing the buttons on his waistcoat next. “Yours was Asshole.”

He laughed, shrugging off his outer clothes and folding them carefully by his side, the pressure on his head somewhat subsided now that he had removed his heavy, hot uniform. Portugal’s eyes were trained on him, still standing a few feet away, still hesitant and wary.

“Come here,” he called, extending a hand towards him and watching with some amusement as Portugal’s face contorted into a frown. Huffing an impatient breath, he rose to his feet and went to him instead.

Portugal seemed somewhat smaller, dwarfed by a too big linen shirt and his simple brown cotton trousers. But his body was still the same as France remembered when he pulled him closer, his arms still strong and hardened by years at sea, his eyes still a pale shade of green when he looked at him.

“You are always so difficult,” he told him, settling his hands on the curve of his hips, watching his eyes as he looked down at France’s lips. “Always stubborn as a mule.”

His hands came to rest on his chest, neither to push him away nor to pull him closer, and France sighed, pushed his hair back over his shoulder, ghosted his fingers across his face.

“He is not going to come for you,” he said and Portugal’s eyes turned to his, the soft skin around them tightening slightly in worry. “England has what he wants now that Brazil’s ports are open to him.”

The hands on his chest gripped his shirt, but there was no more fight in them, no more blind, raging anger. “You’re lying,” Portugal whispered quietly, but his voice was thin, threadbare, doubt creeping into his words, taking hold of his thoughts.

“England doesn’t need you anymore,” he continued, petting his hair, caressing his cheekbones, his jaw, his ear. “But you already knew this, didn’t you?”

His fingers slackened, the last wall of his resistance crumbling under his words and France leaned in, brushed his lips against his. “Oh, Lusi,” he whispered, “Aren’t you tired of fighting?”

Portugal's mouth opened beneath his lips and France smiled, “Don’t you want to come home?”

Notes:

In 1807, French Marshal Jean-Andoche Junot led the French army across Spain to seize Portugal in November 30. When he reached Lisbon, however, he was able to see the tails of the ships that took the Portuguese royal family and the court across the Atlantic to Brazil, which effectively saved the Portuguese Empire from falling into Napoleon's hands, but caused them to lose the mainland territory.

After taking control of the country, Junot seized what was left of the Treasury and any wealth available that had been left behind in the escape. He also put in motion the partition of the territory as devised by Napoleon, which would divide Portugal into three, granting the Southern portion to Spain's PM, Manuel de Godoy, keeping the middle part for France itself and giving away the Northern part to the King of Etruria. Junot, however, who had been France's Ambassador to Portugal during 1804-05, decided to proclaim himself as King of Northern Lusitania. Napoleon was not amused.

As part of the agreement to help the royal family escape Napoleon, the Portuguese regent, future João VI, opened Brazil’s ports to British trade, which had suffered under Napoleon’s Continental System and US neutral policy. At the time, Portugal and her colonies were responsible for consuming around half of Britain’s exports. That trade was thus protected after being moved to Brazil, which in turn made the continental territory of Portugal redundant.

However, the partition of Portugal never took place because in May 1808, after trying to double-cross Spain and take control of the territory, the Spanish revolted and the Portuguese followed in June. In August, the British sent troops under the command of Arthur Wellesley, future Duke of Wellington, and the French were forced to leave Portugal in what would be the first of three attempts to take control of the country.

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #taunting #hetalia #fic #emotional manipulation #peninsular war #hws portugal #hws france #fraport #a wild fic appears #if you don't like france being a dick this is not for you #mild makeout

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mizelophsun11 · 3 years

Text

Mizeloph's Tale Chapter 8

Pairing - It is still General Kirigan x OC Sun Summoner and will eventually shift to Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary - First the little group from Ketterdam has to make it through the Fold before they can get to Eastern Ravka. As they travel through the Fold a past that Kaz does not like to talk about haunts his thoughts. A promise that he never intended on breaking brings more to Kaz than he cared to admit.

Word Count - 2550

“They want you to believe the Sun Summoner has been found to finally tear down the wall that divides us. But how many times have we been fed a story like that?! And how many times have we in the West been told to send our sons and daughters through the Fold for another year? It is time to accept that we need to break away from the old country! Now is the time to form our own country, to keep what we make and what we earn instead of sending it to the East! For the true Ravka!” Zlatan finished his speech and walked off towards the entrance of his tent where he shook hands with Arken who had an interesting proposition

Out in the open Kaz Brekker watched their exchange, he had not been too thrilled about this, but knew that they needed Arken to get them across the Fold. He would be able to come up with a plan to deal with Arken later. Kaz spotted Inej looking at the stones with names of people from the West who had gone through the Fold and died or never come back.

Inej noticed Kaz walk up to her with the tiny goat “he’s adorable”

“Don’t get too attached” he looked between her and the stones “I didn’t think I’d have to specify no detours for you”

“Even if just a few minutes could end a lifetime of questions?” Inej asked

Kaz sighed “I have looked at these stones for answers, when I couldn’t find her name these stones felt useless, just another reminder of an unknown”

“Maybe because she was able to survive the Fold, she is now the Sun Summoner, you cannot continue to deny it forever, there is hope you two will see each other again” Inej knew that they both were trying to find a name to have some closure, but it was not always that easy

“Hope is dangerous, it can cloud anyones judgement, including our own. Just like your mind has been clouded by your questions of my past with Anna Mizeloph, I told you I wanted your complete focus on this job” Kaz said adjusting the goat he was holding in his arm

“I will, this will be the last time I promise” Inej could tell that she was pushing on Kaz berries with talking about Anna

“Don’t forget Inej, we all have debts to pay” Kaz walked off to meet head towards the meeting point with Inej walking behind him

Once it got darker everyone had met at the disclosed location near the edge of town so they could start their journey, but there was one person missing, Jesper. They still made their way towards where the train would be when Inej stopped to read the sign.

“Wait, there are landmines here..” Inej said looking to Arken

“I put those signs up there to keep people away” Akren informed them

Kaz looked behind “where the hell is Jesper?” he did not want to be delayed

They walked over to where the machinery was hidden that would get them through the Fold “It’s one thing to hear about it, but.. This is..” Inej looked at the looming darkness as they got closer

“Nothing compared to what lies within” Arken went through the thick shadow and pulled the train out “there, so the goat, jurad.. Thank you. Now we are just waiting on the coal..”

“Wait for me!” Jesper yelled as he ran, followed by gunshots

Arken began to panic as he saw Jesper running towards their location with people following behind “they can’t see the train!”

“Leave the lantern!” Inej yelled

“Landmines!” Jesper looked at the sign

“Come on!” Kaz knew it was going to be close

Jesper tossed the lantern onto the ground and ran to the train in the dark making sure to watch his step. Once he got in he felt a slight sigh of relief wash over him, he had gotten coal and not been blown up.

“Please tell me you have 20 pounds of alabaster coal” Arken pleaded

Jesper gave him the bag “slight snap in the plan, turns out the kid who was helping me buy the coal didn’t exactly know how to, um, buy coal”

“We know you gambled it away” Kaz knew Jesper too well

“I lost a bit of the money.. Well, I lost all of the money, but! I was able to steal 20 pounds of alabaster coal” Jesper smiled a little

“No no.. there’s only 16 pounds” Arken was slightly panicking

Jespers smile faltered “16 pounds of alabaster coal”

“Can we do it on 16?” Kaz asked

“Never been done before, now I need you three to sit down and never shift your weight” Arken started to set everything up to get the train to start moving, then they suddenly heard the sound of an explosion and men screaming

Jesper shook a little “Landmines..”

Kaz looked up a Arken from his spot “I thought you said they weren’t real”

“I said no such thing, I just said I put the sign up” Arken began to put coal in and the train started, they entered the Fold.

It was quiet in the train so far, everyone was thinking about anything else than being inside the Fold. As the train chugged on Kaz knew that right now he should be thinking about what they will do to get into the Little Palace, but his thoughts drifted to Anna Mizeloph. He knew better, but Kaz could not help it, the little girl with white hair that he remembered was now the Sun Summoner. He remembered when they were younger, imagining their lives and how everything would work out.

Little 8 year old Kaz and Anna were holding hands as they ran down an alley holding a few items of food. Once they got to their safe spot they sat down and started to nibble at the food, Anna looked over at Kaz.

“What do you think our lives will be like once we are older Kazie?” Anna asked

“Honestly, I’m not sure, I want to get back at Pekka for putting me and Jordie in our current situation” Kaz was angry, he and his brother had the chance to start a new life when their father had died, they should not be in this situation

“But you met me.. You mean a lot to me Kazie” Anna said looking at the small amount of food she had left, this was all she knew, living on the streets

Kaz sighed “the future also involves me and Jordie becoming rich and you will be a part of that Anna, we will stick together” he smiled a little at her and pulled Anna close

“Good” she rested her head on his shoulder “but if you become rich can we travel the world? Maybe see Ravka? I’ve only heard of it from others travelers, but it sounds beautiful”

“Anything you want Anna” Kaz adjusted Anna and began to run his fingers through her hair to try and get a few tangles out “when we are older you will get whatever you want, I promise”

Anna smiled and closed her eyes feeling Kaz run his fingers through her hair. While she hated that Kaz and Jordie were cheated out of their money to survive, Anna was thanking every saint that she had known for meeting Kaz. She felt beyond lucky to have a best friend like Kaz and wished that they had met under different circumstances.

“Hey Kazie?” Anna said softly

“Yes Anna?” He continued to run his fingers through her hair now for comfort

“Can you make me another promise? This one is more important..” Anna could not imagine her future without Kaz

“Anything you want Anna” Kaz smiled a little finishing his combe through of her hair and pulled her close into a hug

“Promise me that we will never be separated, that we will grow up together and never leave each other, please promise me this” she pleased

“Yes, I promise” Kaz said, not knowing what the future held and that in a year he would break that promise. However, he didn’t know that, so with his ignorant bliss he made the promise

“Can we pinkie promise?” Anna asked looking at Kaz

Kaz smiled and nodded holding his pinky out “I promise”

Anna held her hand out and linked their pinkles “I promise” she continued to stay close to Kaz as he kissed the top of her head, their promise.

Kaz thought about that promise more than he would like to admit, he was the first one to break it. Even though it wasn’t really his choice because the people who collected him and his brother thought they were dead. However, that was still the moment of separation and Kaz wished that things could have been different. Anna was and still is an important girl to him and it made him think about what would happen when they were finally face to face. It would eventually happen since Anna is the key to the million kruge mission. Kaz wondered if she would recognize him or not, if she did how would she react? There was a lot running through his mind about Anna that was suddenly jossled when the train jerked.

With the sudden motion of the train came a strange noise snapping Kaz out of his thoughts “what was that?”

“Bits of metal hun on the poles, when they collide with the one on the train it markes where we are in our journey, right now we are on time” Arken said while looking at his watch

“How did you know where to put the poles?” Kaz asked

“Physics and engineering are a part of.. Most of my success” Akren continued to focus on his watch, he would glance at the coal then back at his watch

“And the rest?” Kaz glanced up at Arken

“What we might call divine intervention” Akren checked the coal against

“What other might call luck” Kaz never enjoyed relying on luck in anything

“And after all, the Fold is thick with volcra, and the tracks are not complete. Coal please” Arken said, Kaz threw some coal in

“I’m sorry, did you say the tracks weren’t complete?” Jesper asked starting to feel a little bit nervous and began to move

“Ah, ah! No moving” Arken said “it seems like we are falling behind, by my calculations we are now a tad late, more coal” Kaz put some more coal into the flames, fueling the train to continue going

“Back to the real issue, we are on tracks that don’t connect to other tracks” the amount of panic in Jesper was beginning to rise

“There is a gap, but..” Arken was going to continue but Kaz cut him off

“You said you could get us through, how much of a gap?” Kaz asked

Arken sighed, continuing to watch the coal and the watch to see if they could get back to being on time. “I built slats on the car, they roll into place under the wheels and the turbine generated enough wind to push all the way to the eastern tracks. This only works if we did not shift our weight, now we are about to go past a nest, the noise may attract volcra but it is the only way across”

As they continued through the sound of growling volcra echoed “now we have a problem, but we should be fine if they haven’t attacked us by..” the flapping wings of volcra got closer

Kaz looked at how Arken reacted “if need be how do you fight them off?”

“There is no way to fight them off, I can only outrun them to give a fighting chance. Open the throttle and toss all of the coal in, if we had 20 pounds this would work” as the coal was tossed in the train was gossled, Arken looked out to see what had happened “Damn! One of them impaid itself onto a spike”

The blood from the Volcra seeped through the ceiling and into the train “we need to get it off or else the other will stand on it” Kaz said

“More coal!” Arken commanded

Kaz threw the rest of the coal in and the bag it came in “we are down on fumes!”

Everything was beginning to unfold against them, they were behind, volcra were now attacking their only means of transportation through the Fold. A true nightmare, it almost had seemed too good to be true in the beginning when everything was running smoothly. Kaz could tell that they would be cutting it close, if they could even make it through.

Arken nodded “we won’t make it with this extra weight” he continued to try and get the dead volcra off the spike

“This is how we die” Jesper said

“Jesper grab the goat” Arken looked down at his watch to see if they were any close to the other side of the Fold

“I’m not throwing out the goat!” Jesper yelled

“Damit it Jesper, grab the damn goat! It’s not bait, it is for you now I need you to calm down and hug the goat!” Arken yelled back at Jesper

The sound of metal meeting metal rattled through the train “no no.. we should have hit that mark 20 seconds ago”

This caught Kaz's attention “20 seconds? Meaning..”

“My timing is precise in order to get us through, even 20 seconds behind means the train could stop inside the Fold which means.. Death for all of us” Akren looked down at the flames keeping the train going, but his attention was pulled away by the sound of volcra “there are more coming.. You may want to make your peace..”

Kaz never hoped for anything, until now he was hoping to make it through the Fold to see Anna. He had never been afraid of death, every mission in Ketterdam was a risk. However, this was different, he could die right here and never see Anna again. Within his thoughts he realised that there was so much more to this mission. Once her name left that man's lips the night of the job, that night he knew that this would be his chance to see her again. He needed to stay alive in order to see her and that would not be possible if he died in the Fold.

Arken looked up as the contraption that had taken him across the Fold too many times to count, it was now being torn apart by a few volcra. Jesper knew what he had to do, he had the guns, with his skills in hand he approached where the volcra were tearing through the top. The monsters screamed and with collection Jesper began to fire off shots at the swarming volcra killing all of them. It was a moment of silence before another metal ping rang, the sun shone through the hole made by the dead volcra. A sigh of relief left everyone in the train, they had made it through the Fold, alive. Now they had to figure out what the next plan was in order to get them into the Little Palace and get Anna Mizeloph.

Author Note - I am so sorry this chapter came later than I had hoped! These seem to only get longer and longer XD However I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! I originally did not plan on adding this chapter, but I thought it would be good to see more of Kaz and the past he has with Anna Mizeloph. Like always feel free to pm me if you would like to or leave a comment, I love reading what everyone has to say!

Tag List- @rika90 @itsemy01 @hotleaf-juice @teatimeforusreaders @benbarnes-supremacy @graciefullygracie @aleksanderwh0r3 @klaudosh @herbatkazmilosica

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #the grisha series #grishaverse #grisha fic #ben barnes #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #freddy carter #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader

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ottomanladies · 3 years

Note

How did concubines negotiate contact with non-eunuch men in & around the harem? I assume princes could interact with their moms, sisters, and other female blood relatives. Yet Mehmed III impregnating a servant while still a prince & Kosem caring for Osman suggests they weren’t 100% isolated from non-sultan men. How was this divide between princes, their “stepmoms” & other non-blood related women in the harem managed?

Royal children and royal consorts belong to the same family even if there is not a blood relation between them. This is something we'll see later, maybe influenced by European practices, but we have princes call their fathers' consorts "first mother" "second mother" "third mother" according to the women's ranks. So, these people — consorts and children — certainly had a relationship, especially after the practice of the prince governorate lapses and princes live in the harem before being secluded in the kafes.

Before the reign of Süleyman I, princes as young as 10/11 were sent to provinces away from Istanbul to learn how to rule. It's with him that for the first time actual adult princes live in the harem: Mustafa left Istanbul for Manisa at the age of 18, Mehmed was even older— 21 years old. In any case, princes weren't barred from talking to their fathers' consorts. There's actually a letter of Hürrem's in which she asks her husband to send her hello to Mustafa:

“If you send greetings to Sultan Mustafa, send him my note too.” Apparently she had included a separate letter to Suleyman’s eldest son in the scroll cylinder that carried her own to the sultan. The future would cloud Roxelana’s relations with Mustafa and his mother Mahidevran, but in 1526 there appeared to be harmony, or at least an effort on Roxelana’s part to keep up communication. — Peirce, Empress of the East: How a European Slave Girl Became Queen of the Ottoman Empire

Specifically to the examples you've mentioned:

the slave Mehmed III impregnated was part of Nurbanu's retinue, which means that he probably met her whenever he visited his grandmother (which royal grandchildren routinely did— daily in the XIX century, supposedly it was the same in the XVI century)

Osman was Kösem's step-son. Seeing as Mehmed was only a couple of months younger and they had therefore the same tutor, they could not not have a relationship of some sort. I also imagine that the children used to play together when they were little and the only sons of Ahmed I. The Venetian ambassador's remark that she was not to converse with him or his younger brother anymore does not mean that they wouldn't see each other anymore but that they weren't supposed to spend a lot of time together. Or alone. As Osman was motherless, he was "defenceless" because he didn't have anyone to look after his own interests; if Mahfiruze had been alive at the time, Kösem wouldn't have certainly taken him out for carriage rides with her children. They would have still seen each other on a daily basis, maybe for lessons or because Kösem would visit Mahfiruze (for tea, for example) but it wouldn’t have been that dangerous (from Ahmed I’s point of view, at least) because Kösem wouldn’t have tried to lobby the young prince

Hell, I'll even include Ahmed and Kösem who, according to Valier, met each other when the prince used to visit his own mother.

These things could happen, though it wasn't certainly a habit and it was forbidden to entertain an intimate relationship with a woman belonging to the sultan's harem, it doesn't matter her rank.

In the case of step-mothers and step-children though it was perfectly normal for them to have some sort of relationship. I mean, motherless children were entrusted to other consorts by the sultans themselves. In the XIX century, princes would routinely visit their fathers’ consorts on religious festivities and consorts with no children would even have favourites among the royal children: Mahmud II’s consort Tiryâl Hanımefendi was very close to the then-prince Abdülaziz, so much so that when he became sultan, she was considered a sort of second valide sultan. It’s true we’re much later in Ottoman history but in this case, Abdülaziz had a living mother.

I think the family dynamics of the Ottoman dynasty are very interesting.

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lyranova · 3 years

Text

Children of the Future:

Chapter 10: Finding Maelie

Hi guys! Sorry i haven’t been active here lately, I’m hoping that’ll change soon and i’ll be able to post more for you guys this weekend 🥰! Here’s chapter 10 and I hope you all enjoy! Also if I forgot to tag anyone please let me know!

Taglist: @eme-eleff @crazyclownthanos @jovialnoise @talpup @simpingforthisonedeer @melissa-novachrono @thoughtfullyrainynightmare @bowandcurtsey (i couldn’t remember if you wanted to be tagged or not Aine 😅) @ckjwnnbc

Word Count: 3,216

Warnings: None

———

“ Where was the last place you saw your sister?” Gauche asked as he, Grey, Yami, and Aloys stood outside of the Castle. They had all agreed to help him look for his sister and, of course, it had to be now that he wanted to look for her. The dark haired boy frowned in thought as he tried to remember.

“ Back home. Right as we entered the Time Gate, she was right next to me, but when I woke up she was gone.” He muttered the last part softly as he looked away. Grey walked over and placed a gentle hand onto his shoulder and smiled reassuringly.

“ It’s ok, we’ll find her I promise!” She told the boy confidently, Gauche tilted his head slightly, Grey was much more confident and comfortable around Aloy’s then anyone else. Maybe because he was a little timid like her? Or was it because he was her, no, their son?

“ Ok, that gives us almost nothing to go on.” Gauche said with a sigh and the boy glared icily at him.

“ ‘Almost nothing’ is better than completely nothing, y'know.” He grumbled, Yami quickly cut between the two before Gauche could retort.

“ Look, if you two are gonna squabble and bicker I’m going to send you both home. Together. Where you have no option but to speak and spend time together, understand?” Yami threatened, the two nodded but continued to glare at each other. He turned to Aloys.

“ Where did you wake up?” He asked, the boy looked around for a moment.

“ Somewhere deep in the woods. I came through the east side of the Capitol so I’m assuming the East Woods.” He said with a shrug, he wasn’t the best at directions so he easily could have been mistaken, but it was his best guess at the moment.

“ Alright then, let’s start there.” Yami said as he stepped onto his broom. Gauche and Grey did the same and Aloys sat behind Grey on her broom. The four quickly took off into the air and headed towards the East Woods.

“ Captain,” Gauche called as he flew up next to him. “ You know it’s a long shot we’re going to find anything there right? Even if we happen to find the exact spot where the kid woke up.” Gauche pointed out, Yami looked over at him and nodded.

“ I know, but it’s the only lead we’ve got.” Yami countered. Gauche looked away, he knew the Captain was right, even though he didn’t want to admit it. He fell back a few feet and flew a little behind him. Yami shook his head and let a small sigh escape his lips.

So much for getting back home early.

——-

Charlotte looked around the house with a confused frown; where was everyone? She seemed to be the only Captain to have arrived so far, and the kids were nowhere to be seen. She looked down the halls before placing a hand on her hip, where could they be? She looked up as she saw a flash of pink outside the kitchen window. She tilted her head before walking out the side door and heading to what one would consider a backyard. She quickly dodged as a spell went flying past her head.

“ Be careful Josslyn you could’ve gotten someone killed if you don’t learn to watch where you’re aiming!” Hikari shouted, Charlotte frowned as she approached the two girls, were they training?

“ Geez, tone it down Hikari, it’s not like anyone got hurt. Oh hi Captain Suke-, I mean, Captain Roselei.” Josslyn said as she suddenly noticed the blonde Captain approaching them, Hikari turned around and smiled at her ‘mother’.

“ Josslyn, Hikari,” Charlotte nodded at the two before standing in front of them with her arms crossed.” What are you two doing?”

“ Training.” They answered in unison, both girls looked at each other before laughing a bit, they did have the tendency to answer at the same time. Charlotte smiled softly before nodding.

“ I saw, you’re both pretty good. But,” she turned to Josslyn. “ Hikari’s right, you have to make sure your spells are perfectly aimed and well timef, otherwise an innocent might get caught in the crossfire.” Charlotte lightly reprimanded the pink haired girl, who looked away and muttered under her breath before walking away.

“ I’m gonna train on my own for a while.” She threw over her shoulder to the mother and daughter, Hikari went to open her mouth but Josslyn cut her off. “ I’ll be right over there so you can see me, I promise I won’t run off.” She added, Hikari closed her mouth and nodded before turning to Charlotte.

“ Where are the boys?” The blonde asked, Hikari looked around for a moment before her eyes landed on them.

“ They’re over there, by the looks of it Alistar is teaching Ace about what kind of plant that is.” She chuckled and Charlotte laughed a bit as well.

“ He really loves plants doesn’t he?” She asked, she had only known him for less then a day but considering he told her about what all plants the spices in the kitchen had come from and their origins, that was the little information she was able to gather from the white haired boy. Hikari nodded.

“ He does, it’s one of his many quirks. But he doesn’t go on and on about plants all the time, only when he sees one that he feels like telling you a bit about.” She chuckled again, Charlotte tilted her head a bit.

“ He seems like a very nice young man.” She tried to sound casual, but she was digging for information on the two, but only just a little. She quickly shook her head, ‘What are you doing Charlotte?! Their love life isn’t any of your business! You’re starting to sound like one of your girls!’ She scolded herself but she saw the dark haired girl nod in agreement.

“ He is. He’s probably one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet, but there’s a little more to him than just that. He’s smart, brave, kind of quiet, and despite all the challenges life has dealt him, he always tries to smile.” She told Charlotte fondly before shrugging a bit. “ He has the second biggest fanclub in the Golden Dawn, right behind his dad, and I tried to get him to go out on a date with a couple of girls from his fan club. But he wouldn’t do it.” She added with a small sigh and shake of her head, Charlotte looked from Hikari to Alistar curiously.

“ Is there someone who has his heart already?” Hikari frowned in thought for a moment before shaking her head.

“ I don’t think so, I’m his best friend, so I would think he would tell me if there’s someone he likes already.” Hikari said, he would tell her right? I mean, after all they’ve been through and all the things they knew about each other, he was bound to tell her if he had a crush on someone? Right? Hikari shook her head quickly before changing the subject.

“ Why aren’t you and my dad together already?” She watched her ‘mother’s’ face turn a bright shade of read and she began to stammer nervously, apparently she wasn’t expecting the question.

“ B-Because,” Charlotte looked away. “ Because I’m not strong enough yet, Yami deserve’s to have a strong capable woman by his side. One that can protect him just like he protects everyone, one that can stand on her own and be his equal in every way. I’m not there yet I’m afraid. But,” she smiled softly before looking at her ‘daughter’. “ I think I’ll get there eventually, it’s just going to take some time and, as Yami put’s it, I’ll need to surpass my limits.”

Hikari smiled, she was proof her mother was right that she would eventually get there. But there was also worry in her smile. She was worried about how her, and her friends, appearance here would affect the timeline. Would her parents still get together like how they did originally? Or would she somehow influence it? She didn’t know, and that made her nervous.

———

Gauche couldn’t help but wonder why him, why did he have to get stuck with Aloys?! The boy seemed to be closer to Grey so why didn’t the Captain send him with her? He couldn’t help but glare as the Captain divided the four of them up when they had arrived at the East Woods, if he didn’t put Grey and Aloys together because they had the same magic type then why didn’t he send Grey to go looking for the girl with Gauche? There was only one logical answer:

He was being punished for earlier, he had to be.

But now that the two were alone he could actually look at the boy. He seemed to be 16, his hair was a dark brown-ish blue shade, he had a similar body type to Gauche but shorter, if Aloy’s was anything like him he’d probably hit his growth spurt soon, he also seemed to be much more quiet now then he was earlier. From what he had seen back at the Castle, Aloys seemed to be nearly identical to Gauche, but now that he had settled down, he seemed to be more like Grey.

“ Stop staring at me old man, you’re making me nervous.” Aloys muttered as he glanced at his ‘father’, Gauche rolled his eyes and looked away.

“ Stop calling me an old man! I’m only 4 years older than you!” Gauche argued, Aloys smirked.

“ Still older.” Gauche growled.

“ The Captain should’ve sent you with Grey, she’s better at dealing with you.” He told Aloys, who nodded.

“ I wish he would have too, that way I wouldn’t have to deal with you old man.” Gauche quickly whipped around to glare at his ‘son’.

“ Momma’s boy!” Aloys turned to look at his ‘dad’.

“ Sister lover!”

“ What did you just-?” Gauche growled dangerously low when Aloys suddenly gasped and took off running past him. “ Hey kid, wait!” He quickly followed after him.

“ This was it!” Aloys shouted as he stood in a small circle of trees, he looked around wildly. “ This is where I woke up! Maelie! Maelie are you here?” He shouted as he walked into the center of the circle. Gauche pulled out the communication device and quickly gave Yami their coordinates.

———

“ You’re sure this was it?” Yami asked as he looked around, they were almost dead center in the East Woods, why had he been dropped here of all places? Hell, how did the kid not get lost in these woods? He watched as the umber haired boy continued to look around the area.

“ Yeah I’m sure, because I thought it was strange that all these trees were in a circle. It’s kind of ominous.” Aloys said with a shrug, suddenly a flock of birds came flying out one of the tree’s and Grey let out a shriek before hiding behind Gauche, who sighed and shook his head.

“ It’s just bird's Grey, and will you please stop clinging to my shirt?” He asked, honestly he didn’t actually mind her clinging to him, but he wasn’t about to let anyone know that. Grey only seemed to cling tighter to his shirt.

“ I-I’m sorry Gauche, b-but this place is just so t-terrifying!” Grey stammered, her eyes shut tightly and her face as red as a tomato. She wanted to go home. This place was much too scary and she didn’t like it at all, but she was somewhat comforted by Gauche’s presence. He always seemed to make her feel safer, even braver at times. Aloys tilted his head slightly as he watched his ‘parents’ but he didn’t comment.

“ It doesn’t look like anyone else was dropped here except you,” Yami said as he crouched down at the ground. “ are you sure you two walked through this ‘time gate’ together?” Aloys snorted.

“ Of course I am, I was holding her hand the entire time.” He explained, the other three frowned, if he was holding her hand, then how did they get seperated? Yami looked at the sky for a moment; it was beginning to get dark, they either had to find the girl quickly or call it a day.

“ It’s getting dark,” Gauche said as he also looked at the sky. “ we’ll have to call it a day for now and search again tomorrow.” Aloys began to quickly shake his head at his ‘father’s’ words.

“ No, No way! We have to find her! She’s only 9 years old, in a new and unfamiliar place! She could be hungry and scared or someone could grab her and take off with her!” Aloys shouted.

“ Yeah, she could be all those things. But she could also be anywhere in this city, or even anywhere in this country! How are you going to be able to find and look for your sister if you can’t see where you’re going because it’s too dark?!” Gauche shouted back, Aloys clenched his teeth and looked away; he knew Gauche was right, they wouldn’t be able to see much of anything in the dark, but she was his little sister, he had to find her. He promised.

“ W-What if it was Marie?” Grey asked softly as she opened her eyes and looked up at the brown haired man, he turned a small shade of pink and looked away. “ If it were her that were missing, wouldn’t you keep searching all the way until morning and beyond if you had to?” She heard him make a small noise in the back of his throat, he knew she was right, if Marie were missing there would be no stopping him until he found her.

Gauche looked at Aloys and saw a familiar, determined look. One he had on his face many times, especially when it came to something, or someone, important to him. He sighed and scratched the back of his head.

“ Fine, we’ll keep looking for the girl. But if we don’t find her by morning then we’ll stop and regroup. Got it?” He asked Aloys, who smiled and nodded in agreement. Gauche looked at Yami. “ Captain, if you need to, you can head back. We can handle this.”

Yami stared at Gauche and Grey for a moment before a smirk made its way across his face. He walked past them and towards where his broom was leaning on a tree.

“ Alright, if you need me you still have the communication device I gave you. So use it if you’re in trouble.” Yami instructed before he stepped onto his broom and lifted himself into the air and flew off into the direction of the shared house.

Though, he had a feeling they wouldn’t need to call for help.

———

Yami landed outside the house with a soft ‘thud’, it was already dark out, a small piece of him hoped that they found the girl and were on their way back. But considering she could be anywhere made him doubt they would be able to find her in one day. He opened the door and, just like this morning, everyone was seated around the dining table getting ready to eat.

“ Oh, welcome back Captain Sukehiro!” Alistar greeted warmly and with a cheerful smile, Yami nodded at the white haired boy before walking towards the other. Hikari turned to face her ‘father’ and she also smiled, Yami blinked a bit, he almost forgot her smile was the exact same as Charlotte’s. He gave her a small smile before he sat next to her.

“ Rough day?” Hikari asked before putting a piece of food into her mouth, Yami looked around the table and noticed everyone was either eating or had just finished and were cleaning up the kitchen. He shrugged.

“ Not too bad I guess. I had to inform everyone about being on the lookout for other kids, and lo and behold, I was called to Julius’s office again for another kid.” He muttered as he poured himself a small glass of wine and took a sip.

“ Zora already told us that,” Charlotte said as she walked in from the kitchen. “ Who was it this time?”

“ Grey and Gauche, their son Aloys attacked the Magic Knights guarding the Castle and of course Julius had to step in. He’s a chip off the old block when he’s pissed.” Yami said with a small smirk, it was amusing that when the boy was angry he acted just like Gauche, but otherwise he was more like Grey. He silently wondered if their daughter was the same way, or if she was the opposite? Hikari quickly put down her fork and looked at him.

“ Aloys is here? Is Maelie here too?” She asked as she turned in her seat, Yami let out a small sigh before shaking his head.

“ She’s lost apparently, Gauche, Grey, and Aloys are still out searching for her.” Yami explained before she suddenly got up and headed straight for the door, with Alistar right behind her. “ Where are you going?”

“ To help them look for her! I can’t believe you left them out there to search on their own!” She said angrily, her father was never this way, he never abandoned someone who needed help!

“ Now wait a minute-.” Charlotte started but was cut off.

“ No I won’t! Why did you leave them to look for her on their own, why didn’t you stay and help them?!” She asked Yami, he stood up and looked at her.

“ Because I trust them.” He answered simply. “ I know they’ll find her and they won’t stop until they do, I gave them a communication device in case they needed me. But I don’t think they’ll need to use it.” Hikari glared at him before turning around and grabbed the door knob.

“ Trusting them isn’t a good enough reason.” She muttered before pulling the door open and being greeted with a purple shirt, one she recognized.

“ Gauche?”

As the dark haired girl’s gaze traveled higher she noticed Gauche was carrying a small girl in his arms, one with dark blue-ish brown hair and wearing a blue and white dress.

He was holding Maelie.

“ See? I told you.” Yami smirked, even from a distance he could see Hikari’s cheeks tinted with pink. Alistar chuckled slightly before patting her on the shoulder.

“ It’s ok, everyones wrong sometimes.” He tried to comfort, but in a teasing way since it was very rare for Hikari to be wrong. She quickly muttered something under her breath as she moved to allow the Adlai family inside. Grey closed the door softly behind them before following after Gauche and Aloys.

“ Where can we put her?” He asked the Captain’s, Yami jerked his thumb to the left.

“ There’s a room where the girls are staying, she can sleep in there for now.” He said with a shrug, Josslyn sighed and stood up from the table.

“ C’mon I’ll show you.” The pink haired girl quickly led them down the hall, Aloys turned around to face everyone.

“ We’ll explain later.” He laughed, he seemed to be much more relaxed and at ease now that they had found his little sister. He turned back around and followed the others down the hall.

———

Sorry the ending isn’t the best, I couldn’t think of how to end it 😅. I might have a small scene where they find maelie in the next chapter but i’m not sure yet 😅. Anyway thanks for reading and I hope you all have a good day~!

#children of the future #black clover fanfiction #yami sukehiro #charlotte roselei #gauche adlai #black clover grey #oc; hikari #hikari is not my oc #oc; josslyn #josslyn is not my oc #oc; alistar #oc; aloys #oc; maelie #chapter 10

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dex-xe · 3 years

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Have you ever thought that when the ghosts were alive The world map would look different? Some of the ghosts might think that Australia or Canada is still part of the British Empire or captain and pat thinks that Russia is The Soviet Union.

Oh lawd,, I’m obsessed with this as an idea. I’m a history and politics student who has spent significant time looking at historical geopolitics so I’m gonna do a bit of a deep dive now into what each of them would’ve known about the world. Apologies Anon but you’ve started a rave in my brain on this subject :P

It’s very long so I’ll put a little keep reading button so I don’t annoy people in the main tag!!

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im talking: Ghosts related questions, theories or headcanons yall have, your favourite characters/scenes/episodes/friendships + why, general comments on anything Ghosts you wanna say

Link to inbox: Max’s Ghost Post

Robin - Robin’s knowledge of the world would’ve been practically non-existent. He lived during the Stone Age but we don’t really know when, but he wouldn’t have known where he was in the world or what was happening elsewhere at all. Living in (what I assume is now) Surrey, he probably wouldn’t have even known about the sea or that he was on an island.

Plague Ghosts - The Plague ghosts are interesting because their world view would’ve been so limited. They wouldn’t have known about the Americas, Asia, Africa or Australia etc. Mick going to London would mean he would probably have known slightly more, if simply knowing vaguely about France or the Holy Roman Empire. They would’ve lived in a feudal system under the control of a Lord, so not much life outside the farming life style.

Humphrey - Humphrey’s worldview would’ve been dominated by the conflict of the Church and conflict between the monarch and the Pope. He would’ve known about discoveries of food and stuff in the Americas. It’s unlikely he would’ve lived to see the Europeans arrive in Australia. So he would’ve never knew about it which is mad.

Mary - Mary would’ve been the last ghost where the HRE was at its power. King James VI was committed to peace in Europe but the 30 Years War would’ve been in her life time too. She would’ve known about the Americas probably and the existence of British production in the new world.

Kitty - Kitty probably would’ve lived at the end of the 1700s, she might’ve just about seen the French Revolution in 1789 which she (being aristocratic) would’ve known about (and her family probably would’ve feared a similar thing would happen in Britain) but obvs Kitty being Kitty probably wouldn’t have fully known about it or been taught about what was happening. Also, she would’ve seen US independence in 1776 so that would’ve been important at the time too.

Thomas - Thomas lived in the early 1800s and would’ve experienced a similar world to Kitty. French Revolution and US independence would’ve been when he was very young if not just before his birth. The big situation in his life would’ve been Napoleon’s chaos in Europe. But with Thomas’ being an aristocratic, uppity poet he would’ve known but probably not had much interest or care for the world.

Fanny - Fanny would’ve seen the scramble for Africa in full force and the Empire’s expansion. She would’ve seen the Empire at its highest with the whole “sun never sets on the British Empire” situation. This would’ve completely defined the way Fanny viewed the world.

Captain - The Captain’s worldview was wayyyyy different to ours even though he didn’t live that long ago. He was born probably around 1900 so would’ve seen the rapid changes in WW1 and everything afterwards. Colonialism and the aftermath of the scramble for Africa were HUGE in this time as have been seen with the Captain’s view of the Empire. Then obviously the Great Depression and everything happening in Germany and Europe and then WW2.

Pat - Like you said Anon, Pat would’ve lived at the time of the Soviet Union. He was born in around 1945 so saw the world from an entirely post-WW2/Cold War perspective in which East-West relations would’ve dominated his worldview. I imagine being an educator of sorts and from what we see of him in the show he was probably rather knowledgable of the world and current affairs and the like. He would’ve seen the decolonisation of Africa in the 1950s/60s but yeh,, the Cold War/Soviet Union would’ve been his big worldview.

Julian - Julian’s worldview would’ve been quite close to ours. He would’ve seen the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, the reunification of Germany in 1990, and the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991. But, the East-West divide would still have played a huge role in his perspective cause it obviously didn’t just go away straight after the end of the Cold War. The main thing that would’ve been different was Yugoslavia, in which countries began declaring their independence starting in 1991. It’s entirely possible Julian would’ve actually been in discussions regarding the future of the Balkans in Parliament or on committee etc.

So yeh,, sorry for the ranting anon but this is so fascinating to me!! You’re such a genius anon for thinking of stuff like this!!

#Max's ghost post #anon you genius i love this #bbc ghosts #this is possibly the only one going in the main tg #cause i think its interesting and not too annoying #but if you want me to take it out of maintag just let me know #wont be offended :)

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nottheleavesarecinders · 3 years

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ACOFS Prythian Map Appreciation Post

So, the fandom is in a bit of an unrest right now, so I’ve decided to offer you the best distraction I could think of: an appreciation of the Prythian map that came inside ACOSF, since it is absolutely GORGEOUS and I don’t feel like we talk about it enough!

One thing I’ve always loved about the ACOTAR maps it’s the fact that every single book there are new details included in them, either due to an stylistic choice or to portray new locations that become relevant in the book. With time, more and more things have been popping up, leaving us with the work of art that is the ACOSF map.

For those of you that may have not seen it yet, this is the map! Look how pretty it is!

I’m going to leave my fangirling after a read more because this will be very long!

So, first things first: obviously you can see Hybern, Prythian and The Continent, with the Mortal Lands and Fae Realms portrayed where they are. There are a ton of little details added to them, mostly portraying different locations, so let’s look at them more closely!

First there is Hybern. As you can see, there is a little crown and a castle drawn in it! The crown probably symbolizes the fact that Hybern is ruled by a King instead of High Lords, so it’s a way to show the influence of royalty in that land. The castle signals... yeah, the castle we went to in ACOMAF. I don´t really think its location it’s accurate, since as fas as I remember we weren’t really told were it was... but to be honest, it being near the shoreline DOES sound familiar, so probably it is a good approximation of its real location. Also, let’s take in how many mountains there are, it gives Hybern a very wild feeling that I think fits it REALLY well!

Now, let’s switch to Prythian! As you can see, The Wall is clearly signaled with a thick, black line, but my favourites are the borders between the Courts (divided by The Middle, with the Seasonal Courts below it and the Solar Courts above)- shown as thorny branches, which really portray the feeling of nature that suits the Fae so much. There is one interesting detail, though: the only missing border is the one between the Day and Night Courts. Maybe it’s because they are already divided by a mountain range? Hmmm I wonder...

So, I’ll talk first about the Mortal Lands and the Seasonal Courts, then about The Middle and Solar Courts!

The Mortal Lands don’t have a lot of detail in them, but you can see a tiny drawing of Feyre’s village under The Wall! It’s obviously not in scale, but I love the level of detail you can find in it- specially the tiny tower that seems to belong to a church! It really gives the “kinda-medieval-village” vibes Sarah seemed to want to portray in ACOTAR, and that little tower just makes it perfect!

Then you have the Seasonal Courts!

First there is the Spring Court. There is one detail I personally find REALLY interesting about it, and that’s the fact that the Manor doesn’t appear- in fact it hasn’t shown up in any of the maps we have seen so far. You would think that such an important location would be shown, at least with a little skecht like Hybern’s Castle... but no, it’s missing. I wonder why... One of it’s features that has appeared since the beginning is its eastern river, which hasn’t appeared in the books so far. I wonder if it’s going to become relevant at some point or if it’s rather an stylistic choice. It seems there is a river in the UK near the same place, so maybe it’s simply based on it.

Next up it’s the Autumn Court! My favourite! Yay! There is something I absolutely LOVE about how it appears in this map, and thats the fact that it has the most amount of forests by FAR, which I think really fits it. Another detail I find charming is how we can see the Forest House and then a drawing of some kind of big cottage or almost farm house representing it. Knowing what we know about the people in the Autumn Court, I’m pretty sure they would resent seeing their home shows as just a “simple” building. There is something else than I like, and thats the fact that, except from the mountains in the north that separates it from the Winter Court and all the forests, the rest of the terrain is flat, which makes sense knowing that they have lots of fields. I simply love this Court.

Now let’s focus on the Summer Court. This one doesn’t have tiny drawings of castles either, but you can see Adriata and one arrow showing us where it would be. As you can see, its placed next to a river’s delta, which makes a lot of sense taking into account the huge ammount of emphasys the Summer Court has in ships and sailing, it’s natural that its capital is not only in the shoreline (as we saw in ACOMAF), but also near a river they could travel in too. I also love how you can see a spatter of forests in the east and some mountains near Adriata and in the North, but the rest of the terrain is flat. I feel like it has a very summery vibe, clear but also with a little bit of everything else.

Lastly, the Winter Court. This is the Seasonal Court we know the least from, at least when dealing with geograhy. The only thing we have learned is that Viviane held a small city during Amarantha’s Reign, which sadly doesn’t appear in the map, not even with a small drawing. What we can see it’s really close to canon, tho. We know that there is a mountain range between the Winter and Autumn Courts, which it is indeed shown in the map. On its north side there is The Middle, which means mountains as well, and there are also represented here. The rest of the Court seems to be flat, which again makes sense, taking into account the short description we get from Feyre in ACOWAR, when she’s running away with Lucien from Eris and his brothers. The idea of flat, icy fields and lakes surrounded by snow capped mountains REALLY fits winter, so I really like how this map transmits it!

Now, this is probably my favourite detail about the Courts: all of them have symbols drawn in them that symbolize their nature! In the case of the Seasonal Courts, they are flowers! They used to appear in random spots inside their territories, but this map has moved them so they frame the Court’s names! Please, feel free to correct me if I mess up with any of the flowers, but in this map I think they are: lavender for Spring, oak leaves and acorns for Autumn, magnolias for Summer and Holly for Winter!

Let’s go North now. The Middle and the Solar Courts: Dawn, Day and Night.

In The Middle you can see Under the Mountain and the Weaver’s Cottage (I just noticed I cut the name out Oooops). The Mountain is suitably big- there is no way you can mistake it for a normal mountain. I also love how much sharper it seems compared to the others near it. The Weaver’s Cottage is... a cottage. I would have liked to see the forest surrounding it and the Bog of Oorid, though. Maybe they’ll show up in the next book?

The Dawn Court. We get another tiny drawing: a castle (signaled by its own arrow) which looks suspicioulsly medieval-looking (it even has a tiny flag on top, which is unbelievably cute). I wich it were a little more stilized though, since it doesn’t fit at all the image I had of the Dawn Court Palace in my mind. I mean, Feyre was almost jelaous of the decoration, there is some fancy stuff in there. Appart from that, there are a bit of trees and several mountains. It’s likely that the entire territory is mountanous, but we cannot see that because they need a blank space so we can see the court’s name, same thing with the Day and Night Courts. Mountains everywhere seems to be a theme in the Solar Courts. It looks very similar to the Day Court, which i guess makes sense, taking into account that they are sibling courts. The Night Court does look different but... I mean, we already knew that.

The Day Court! Again, no drawings and no cities and no nothing, which makes sense because that’s the exact ammount we know about this Court, since it’s the only one none of the POV characters have been in. I cannot wait to travel there in a future book, Helion is the best and it’s pretty sad there are no noteworthy features in its map. If in the next book there isn’t at least a tiny pegasus drawn somewhere I’ll riot.

Then the Night Court. Of course, since it is the court version of the Main Character, it is the one with the biggest ammount of stuff in it... except for Ramiel, or a mountain in The Prison. I’m still salty about this, I would have LOVED to see Ramiel portrayed as a huge mountain, with a slender monolith on top and three starts crowning it. This would represent the Night Court perfectly as well, and I’m sure it would have looked GORGEOUS. And I’m noy going to lie, I would have also enjoyed having the three sacred mountains protrayed at the same time, mainly to draw lines between them and feel like a investigator. Anyways, what we DO have is the Court of Nightmares, Velaris and The Prison. I think there are no drawings of castles or houses here because they wouldn’t really fit, but I do appreciate that you can see that Velaris is near the sea- and quite away from the Court of Nigthmares. It would have been lovely to see the Sidra and the location of the Cabin as well, but I guess there are just so many locations in the Night Court that it’s impossible to fit all of them.

This Courts also have their own symbols next to their names! A sun peaking out for Dawn, a full sun for Day and a bunch of stars for Night!

Nooow to finish off the locations, let’s go to the Continent! Compared with all the info we know about Prythian, they show very little. We can see Scythia in the Mortal Lands, the home of Vassa. Then, in the Fae Realms the territories of Montesere and Vallahan are clearly marked (with simple lines, not thorns like the Courts in Prythian. I approve, since there is no denying Montesere and Vallahan cannot compete with our beloved Courts in seer amount of DramaTM, so it’s a fitting choice). Then Rask is also shown offmap with an arrow. To recap (I had to look this up because my knowledge of this territories is shaky at best): Montesere is one of the territories that allied themselves with Hybern with the goal to defeat Phythian. There is nothing else noteworthy about it for now. Vallahan was also part of this alliance, and it’s the place where Ianthe was born and run away from. This is also the country Mor spends a huge ammount of time in during ACOSF. Rask also allied itself with Hybern... and I think we know nothing else about it.

What IS interesting about this map is that it shows what I think it would be fair to agree it’s Koschei’s Castle. There is a huge lake in the middle of that mountainous-and-forestal formation (which I think looks eerily like South America, which I’m sure you cannot unsee now), and on top of that the drawing of a tall, narrow castle. How cool is this??? I think it was featured in the ACOWAR map as well, which I LOVED. This only seems to further confirm the importance of this place in future books, and I honestly cannot wait to see more of Koschei and this continent.

I also need a map with all the Mortal Queens’ territories asap, I would LOVE to see their borders!

Now, to put an end to this Map Appreciation post, I want to point out some details that I think really complete it, are very fitting and also absolutely gorgeous.

The first one it that over Hybern you can see a very simple compass Rose (it shows only the north), but in this map it is The Cauldron! It’s tilted and pouring water, so at first it looks like something melting inside a circle, but when you pay attention to it it’s clear that it represents the Cauldron, maybe in a moment of creation! I LOVED this detail, it’s so perfect!

Also, now that I,ve brought your attention to this image: on the left there is a column, and on it you can see symbols of the Summer and Spring Courts, represented with a wave and a rose and shining oh so bright. In fact, every single Court appears in the map like this! I also love how they are surrounded by roses, it’s SO beautiful!

This is the other side of the map, where you can see the Autumn (acorns) and winter (snowflake) courts. Again, with the roses running up the column and the light rays around it. UGH SO GOOD.

But my favourites are the Solar Courts, which appear in the center of the map and let me tell you, I almost feel like using this as a screensaver because it’s sooo beautiful.

You have the Sun (Day court) shining bright in the middle, with its rays influencing the entire map, another Sun rising from clouds (dawn court) at the bottom, and it looks just so soft and ethereal, and lastly the Moon (night court) at the top, surrounded by stars, which you can see at the top of the entire map. I seriously love how this combination looks, it’s just so beautifu!

So, that’s all I have to say about this map! I hope you discovered details you may have not seen before, and if you have noticed something that I haven’t ttalked about PLEASE let me know, I would absolutely love to hear about it! I hope you enjoyed the Post!

#acosf #acosf spoilers #acotar #autumn court #night court #summer court #winter court #map #rhysand

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femme-malewife · 3 years

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LipxLip Romeo Novel Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: This is just a rough translation, so...yeah you know the drill, but I gotta put something here before the read more thing

Masterlist here

The next day, Aizou and Yujiro came into Manager Uchida’s office where she was waiting. Once the two of them sit down on the couch, she begins to talk.

“I’ve been making some late adjustments and...the debut song has been decided. We have it written and we’ve made a schedule too.”

After they received the paper with a schedule written on it, they both exclaimed in surprised voices simultaneously.

“What?”

“Debut song?”

Aizou had been wondering when they would get their debut song during their lessons earlier that day. It was something he’d been looking forward to. And now it was decided.

“It’s written and produced by Honeyworks. The title is...”

Manager Uchida took out another piece of paper with lyrics that was sandwiched in between files. She smiled confidently and showed it to them.

“Romeo.”

The two left the office and headed straight to the musical instrument store. They ran up the stairs and was about to enter but then the door opened and Morita-san comes out.

“Are you two together today? Is something wrong? You’re both in a hurry.”

“We’re going to practice now!” Aizou smiled and slipped inside.

Yujiro bowed with a “sorry to bother you” before following him.

“That’s fine, but try not to fight!” Morita-san laughed and went back inside.

Aizou and Yujiro head to the back room. Aizou took out the lyrics and sheet music from the folder and moved to the side of the piano. Yujiro sat in a chair and opened the piano lid, setting the score down.

After tuning it a little, he looked back.

“It’s tuned...”

“It seems Morita-san has been taking good care of it since you came in.”

That was probably why he came out earlier. “Oh, that’s right...” Yujiro said.

“Okay, so you start first.”

Aizou hummed his part while looking at the score. It had already been divided into parts.

“Okay so for the time being, do you want to play it from the beginning?”

Aizou nodded in response, standing next to the piano. “Yes, that’s fine.”

Yujiro put his foot on the pedal, corrected his posture, and put his fingers on the keyboard.

It was their first song. Aizou felt beyond excited. Yujiro probably felt the same.

When Yujiro started playing, Aizou unconsciously took the rhythm to his feet while looking at the score in his hand. The light melody from the piano felt comfortable.

He always wondered what their debut song would be like. The song that had been handed over with the lyrics had been unexpected.

Romeo...

An ideal prince longing for many people.

It was...the exact opposite of their true selves. It was a challenge. But they would aim to be their own “Romeo”.

They could debut it.

When Yujiro finished playing, he gently lifted his fingers from the keyboard, the sound lingering in the room.

“This is...I wonder...”

After listening to it again, Aizou felt anxious.

He’s never spoken in a sweet and gentle way like a prince in these lyrics. He’s never had such an attitude.

A bullish smile spilled over Yujiro’s mouth as he stared at the score. “Isn’t this the only way to do it?”

“That’s right...”

Aizou saw Yujiro’s eyes sparkling happily and laughed.

“Can you do it?”

After passing the audition, they will make their debut as “LIPxLIP”. The unit name had already been decided.

But what kind of idols would they be? What self would they create?

It was too vague.

Suddenly, Aizou felt like he could clearly see themselves in the future. This song was their song that imagined two people who created their own future.

“In that case, let’s be the best prince in the world!”

They said it at the same time, and both laughed.

“This looks good...”

“Right.”

After a brief discussion, Aizou looked at the score again. “How should I sing this?”

“I don’t know? Sing it coolly? You’re a prince now.” Yujiro tilted his head to the side.

A prince from the west and a prince from the east who come to pick up a princess from a certain kingdom. It was a song with such a story.

Yujiro played the part as prince of the west, while Aizou played the prince of the east country.

“Would you like to sing though, for the time being?”

“Yeah, but it might not be good at first...” Aizou’s gaze quickly escaped to the side.

Yujiro laughed and put his fingers on the piano’s keyboard.

“Then, from the beginning.”

👑

Aizou sang his part with Yujiro’s accompaniment. It had almost been an hour since they started.

“Why is this such a cool song?”

“Because we’re like princes now.” Yujiro sang lightly.

But Aizou’s singing style wasn’t very stable and it sounded unnatural.

“But you’re singing with a frown...” Yujiro stopped playing the piano and started laughing.

(He usually has an unfriendly face...)

“Here, it sounds like this. Try singing lighter.” Yujiro changed the tune and rhythm of the song and started playing. Aizou tried to match it.

“What country is the prince from? The image is completely different!”

“Then do you want to try it with a more profound feeling next time?”

Aizou sang with more strength in his stomach while Yujiro played the arrangement.

“Why does it sound so opera-like?!” Yujiro dropped his hands and his shoulders shook with laughter.

“Oi!” Aizou gently smacked his head. “Don’t be mean. I’ve been the one singing all the time since a while ago!”

“Isn’t it better to try singing in various styles first?”

“Maybe, it’s just so crazy.”

“Then, next let’s try a rock style.”

“Don’t be unreasonable!”

More than three hours had passed since they started practicing.

Aizou and Yujiro ran down the stairs as if they were competing.

“I haven’t heard the piano at all, so why not remove it?”

“I don’t know, it’s just a weird way of playing!”

“I’m just trying to be cool, so sing normally!”

“I was singing like this!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that kind of singing during vocal prodigy lessons. Are you trying?”

“You sing like a narcissist!”

“Why are you talking about yourself?”

Morita-san, who was at the counter, opened his eyes when they entered the musical instrument store.

“Again? Why are you fighting this time?”

“You can do it yourself!”

The two boys glared at each other before turning to the side.

“...I bought yakisoba. Do either of you want some?” Morita-san took out a pack from a takeout bag.

Aizou looked back.

“Eat up!” Morita-san laughed.

During math class, Aizou snuck a look at the music score and tapped his mechanical pencil to the rhythm. The students around him were focused on class, even if they did look bored.

Their work was done, so it was natural to be restless.

(Is it okay to have strong feelings for this?)

During voice training lessons the other day, he was praised with “his sound has become more stable”.

(I’m getting into shape...)

Besides the lessons, he practiced with Yujiro in the musical instrument store room almost everyday.

He had a good idea for the song.

Recording was fast approaching next week. This was going to be the first time he records in a studio.

(Our LIPxLIP debut song...”Romeo”)

Aizou moved his gaze to the window. A year ago, the world around him was so terribly constricted and boring.

He always wondered how he could escape such a world.

He didn’t know what he wanted to do for so long.

“Shibasaki...Shibasaki, are you listening?”

Aizou noticed he was being called and turned to face the front in surprise. His teacher was giving him a look as if asking “what are you doing?”

“Oh! I’m sorry!”

Aizou picked up his textbook and stood up.

“Did you need me to solve this problem?”

The teacher pointed to the problem written on the blackboard with the tip of the chalk. As laughter spread throughout the room, Aizou touched his forehead muttering. “I’m done...”

On the way home from school, he crossed the bridge while singing his song. He stopped on the way, seeing the river shining and reflecting the setting sun.

He looked up at the amber colored sky.

(The song has been decided...so will there be a CD?)

Would they be able to do their own live one day? Seeing themselves on stage, being watched by an audience.

The image made Aizou smile.

He had things he wanted to do. Things he wanted to achieve in so little time.

Aizou wanted to start running with all his strength.

“We’ll do it!!!” Aizou screamed out, raising his head, then heard a laughing voice. He turned.

It was Yujiro, walking over with his hand over his mouth.

“Why are you here?”

“Because I’m back from school. What are you screaming for? That’s so embarrassing.” Yujiro grinned.

Aizou turned red and looked to the side. “It’s all good...”

“Hmm. Well, it’s fine. It’s not like this is new!”

“Hey!”

That’s when Aizou noticed Yujiro wasn’t going to his house. His house was a different direction.

Aizou took this road because he was going to the musical instrument store.

“Let’s practice and then go home!”

Aizou ran to catch up to Yujiro and smacked his back with a grin.

“That hurt!” Yujiro glared at him.

“It’s fine, but...I’ll do that as many as the number of sounds I miss!”

“That’s a rule that just goes against me!”

While arguing, the two raced each other.

#shibasaki aizou #someya yuujirou #lipxlip #honeyworks #lisians translations

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kendrixtermina · 4 years

Text

Something which I think should be appreciated more that Melkor’s schemes didn’t just cause a rift between Feanor and everyone else; There would have been a lot of internal drama in each of the branches, too

We know Anaire dumped Fingolfin for his role in the kinslaying; Of course she might’ve blamed him for being a bad influence on the kids, but they were grown adults, with Turgon having a kid of his own, and we know Turgon and Fingon explicitly got their swoods bloody (and nothing we know about Argon’s and Aredhel’s personalities suggests that they didn’t) so it’s actually quite likely that their mother disowned them - remember a key point of the situation after the darkening is that everyone was acting on impulse & frazzled emotions, doing drastic things they might not have done if they’d had time to think it through.

I mean, Galadriel flat out turned against the faction that her brothers & cousins were a part of (one could interpret “withstood him fiercely” to mean that she got into an actual swordfight with Feanor himself; And he might be the most powerful elf ever but Galadriel is explicitly number two. Since both lived, it was probably a draw; Maybe she had the sense to withdraw when he started winning; This is before she apprenticed with Melian so she probably hadnt reached her full potential yet) - one can totally justify why she’d take the side of her mother’s people since the Noldor clearly started it, but her brothers & cousins probably had opinions about that. Finrod was probably not present having lagged behind with Finarfin; Galadriel would’ve rushed ahead of them (& hence gotten there in time to witness the kinslaying) specifically because she was eager to leave - and then in Beleriand she gave up the whole battle for unwinnable (she was not incorrect about this...) and camped out in Doriath. (Part of this is probably that she had to be retroactively fit into an established plot structure so she doesnt get much to do apart from a few key moments (still a lot more than, say, Celebrimbor and Gil-Galad, especially if you go with the HC that she & Celeborn were the ones who absconded with Elwing), but it still has implications especially since she’s among the most powerful)

Contrast Finrod who didn’t expect Nargothrond to last & acted accordingly, but felt he had to fight to protect the world from Morgoth; He probably saw it as a good thing that Galadriel would go to set up contacts/ future strategic positions further east, but there was certainly a disagreement between her & her brothers.

Add to this that she & her brothers were described as having been “as close as brothers” with Fingon & co, with Angrod and Aegnor being tight with Fingon in particular before all went to hell.

Angrod in particular probably had no peace at his dinner table; He wanted to go, but Orodreth and Finarfin didn’t; (At least we’re told that Finarfin’s kids did not criticise him to his face & retained some basic civility) Who knows what faction Eldalote’s family went with. And once he got to Beleriand, he got both Caranthir and Thingol accusing him of being in cahoots with the other faction; Plus the implication that Fingolfin sent him without informing the Feanorians which suggests at least some moderate political calculation on Fingolfin’s part; No wonder he eventually snapped & spilled everything.

And if you go with the reading that he was friends with C & C once, they definitely werent friends anymore by that time; though Caranthir clearly never liked em to begin with.

Likewise, Turgon thought it all to be a very bad idea why all his siblings were like “Go! Adventure!”; Fingolfin himself was somewhere in between in that he didn’t want to go but felt it was his duty to look after the people & take revenge.

Heck, though his motives were probably among the noblest, Finrod wanted to go while his BFF Turgon didn’t - and then Turgon lost his wife; It’s also implied that Turgon was pretty homesick at least early on seeing as he had Gondolin built to be like Tirion 2.0 while Finrod was initially super stoked to be exploring the unknown lands & meet & learn from the locals.

Consider alsopoor, poor Finarfin, who probably parted on bad terms with all his siblings, was left without his children, no longer welcome where he ostensibly preferred living, left to mop up the resulting mess all alone, including diplomatic relations.

We think of him as the one who knew better and noped out, but that would actually be Findis, who wanted nothing to do with the rebellion in the first place and appeared to have been so disgusted with Tirion & its inhabitants that she left & probably renounced the crown; She probably told her siblings that they were all terrible

Finarfin is the one who almost went and turned back last second - which requires a whole lot of self-awareness and humility, to admit that you were wrong; Maybe he’s less upright than his oldest sister but he was more responsible in the end in that someone had to be responsible for the remnants of Tirion and he decided it should be him, even though he was probably not prepared at all cause he was like, 25th in line after his older siblings & all their descendants. It means that he had to explain to everyone why he’s leaving (including Findis, and his wife whose hometown was just turned into a war zone by his brothers), & then go back and explain to everyone why he stayed after all.

I don’t imagine the parting between Fingolfin and Finarfin to have been too pretty, either, especially since we’re told that Finarfin markedly refused to pick any sides. They would’ve been frustrated with each other at this point, seeing as they both had reasons to do what they did.

At least Fingolfin’s got Lalwen, Findis is with their mom, Feanor & Finwe were probably soon reunited in Mandos, but Finarfin’s got no one;

And we can assume that what happened with the royals also played out among the general populace of Tirion as families & friend groups were divided among the various factions.

Initially the Feanorians would probably have been more unified (they would’ve been a tightly knit group, considering that their father is a standoffish loner who pretty much raised them in the wilderness) - though at the cost of an unreasonable loyalty that eventually proved their undoing, and must have strained what friendships they had with everyone else - though one can imagine that there was some friction between Maedhros as the official leader and Curufin looking to direct things from behind the scenes, with both having somewhat different priorities and principles, but it seems that rather than directly openly challenge/disagree with his older brothers, Curufin tended to try & influence them, or just do whatever he wanted without checking with Maedhros (Cue the Nargothrond debacle...)

Likewise Maedhros would scold or defuse them & learned eventually not to bring Caranthir to diplomatic meetings, but he didnt efficiently curttail them either; loyalty to ppl you know to be questionable is not unambiguous; I personally got the sense that he was always trying to keep both his vow and his honor and then ended in a rather fatalistic, regretful, pelagian villain sort of place after the sack of Doriath - there he was, running through the forest, looking for both the innocent child casualties and the silmaril, and finding neither. In that sense Curufin was perhaps more pragmatic, but also very factional in his thinking & somewhat amoral.

#silmarillion #house of finwe

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tosikoarts · 4 years

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SFW Alphabet | Sugimoto Saichi

You can check tosikowrites tag for more. Hood guy is next in line. Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

The more cruelty you encounter in life, the more efforts you put into bringing something to oppose it and establish the balance. Perhaps, this is why Sugimoto is so caring in relation to his partner. He treats them with warm affection as he does with Asirpa or Shiraishi. They are his friend and one of his second family, not by blood but by spirit.

At the very beginning, Sugimoto is terribly awkward: to hide the blush, he has to pull his favorite cap directly over his eyes and turn away. If he does something and the person he is interested in is watching, everything will surely fall apart. It does not matter how good Sugimoto is in his work, he is cursed to disgrace himself in front of them. But, on the other hand, he is so happy to see their broad smile and hear them burst into laughter. That’s why he loves to sneak up and mercilessly tickle them until their eyes fill up with tears.

Sugimoto rarely uses words to show his affection, at least not in a classical way. “I care about you”, “I like you”? No. First of all, if he ever tried to say that, Asirpa or Shiraishi or (worse) Ogata would pop out of nowhere and ruin the moment. Second of all, why be so trivial, when you can veil the same meanings behind the intimate conversations about life and death, war and peace, friends and enemies? Sometimes he inserts phrases with implications that make sense only to Sugimoto himself or someone close to him. You know, that would be nice to share dried persimmons after gold hunt ends…

Oh, the other special way of showing his love is being dumb together! It's always nice to mess around, prank someone (try not to get shot tho), simply grimace and stick tongue out to show cruel world that you don’t care.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Time spent with Sugimoto is divided in three equal parts: in first part you need to get him out of trouble, in second part he has to bail you out, and in third you both stuck in the weird situation in which role of savior is passed to someone else. Pleasant bonus: everything ends well with no people harmed. Usually.

A type of friend that will follow you through the thick and thin. Even in questionable situation, Sugimoto will stay by your side. It is important for him that person remained true to their promises as well and stuck by him no matter what happens.

With a wild and unpredictable life, Sugimoto needs friendships that do not require constant contact. One day he disappears to knock on your door months later but established ties have to stay there. Every reunion ends up in huge celebration with consequences of The Hangover.

How would the friendship start? There is a plenty of options but the most possible ones are: a) Sugimoto’s group stays in the new city and person happens to be one to host them; b) Sugimoto manages to lost all of his belongings including clothes and money and person happens to pass by. Second one is more likely

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

“I can't protect you without holding a sword. I can't embrace you while holding a sword.” This proverb works well with gun and riffle too. Sugimoto prefers to cuddle only in complete safety when there’s no chance for uninvited blood-thirsty guests to interrupt them. Prefers sitting positions in which he can rest his chin on the top of their head and, also, pet their back. He is such a sucker for good cuddle session that he can’t stop smiling all the way through.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Yes, sure! Small cozy house surrounded by fruit trees overlooking the river is his little secret dream. All Sugimoto wants is sitting on the sun-warmed porch with loved one, holding hands, fingers intertwined, no poisonous thoughts on the mind. He is mediocre cook, knows some recipes but like any soldier cooking they lack finesse. There are few favorite dishes he rotates like miso soups, udon, fried fish, and onigiri. He doesn’t care about cleaning so you can expect bare minimum in sweeping and washing dishes.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He doesn’t seem like a person who takes it easy so ending relationship is something he is afraid to do. Hell, running under the rain of bullets and blood wasn’t that hard. No matter what words he chooses result will be the same: they will be hurt, they will hate him, they won’t want to see him ever again, and conscience will gnaw Sugimoto for his harshness. He just takes one deep breath and spills everything in under the minute, ending monologue with a deep bow and “I am so extremely sorry” in a loud desperate voice.

After years, Sugimoto keeps their dimming photo as a reminder of all they had. If their passes cross again, he won’t be able say a word because of a lump in the throat. He may fall for them one more time.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

After six months of relationship, Sugimoto is ready to slip some questions about the marriage in the dialogue and ask them about the vision of future together. If they are positive, he would propose on the first anniversary. If not, that’s okay too, he can wait until they are ready for a next step. When the day comes, everybody knows about proposal. They whisper and giggle behind Sugimoto’s back because he looks like a mess, happy grinning mess, walking from side to side with the most expensive pawnshop ring clenched in his fist.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Hurting someone he loves is Sugimoto’s worst nightmare. His whole being was dragged through hell and back and sometimes hidden pain can splash out on loved ones. You can physically feel weird aggressive aura coming from him in those rare vulnerable moments. That’s when Sugimoto surpasses emotional baggage and presses them tightly against his chest. No soldier can be soft baby, not after what they’ve seen, but Sugimoto does his best to be gentle with them in every way.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Sugimoto uses hugs as greeting, as comforting, as apology. Wherever possible, he will pull his loved one in hug. They are very warm and tight, accompanied by stroking on the back and pressing his cheek to the other person’s cheek. Truly, in the beginning you can feel how he trembles with joyful excitement and holds himself off in order not to come off too needy. After a long time apart Sugimoto may just knock them down in bear hug, completely forgetting about hectic world around.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Around the same time he is ready to propose so half of the year. However, Sugimoto never says the coveted three words aloud, replacing them with simpler ones “Well, yes, I like them very much... I really like them. Well, you know” when talking with others. At some point Asirpa will surely begin to actively push him towards confession, as well as Shiraishi. It all turns into the game in which they both keep an eye on Sugimoto and his loved one: Asirpa keeps swearing in ainuic because Sugimoto is such stupid indecisive sisam, and Shiraishi gives him thumbs up like. Bro. Just do it already.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

You don’t want to make that man jealous. If he notices anyone hitting on his loved one, he’ll by their side in an instant, frowning, with small dark wrinkle between the eyebrows that does not bode well. Sugimoto immediately strikes a confident pose between possible rival and significant other, jokes passively-aggressively, and if this poor soul insists, he will take them out to have Mano-a-Mano moment. On the other side if it’s loved one who acts flirtatious Sugimoto will act childishly. Almost petty. Oh you a want a kiss? Go ask that man you talked to type of petty. He doesn’t really mean it but he definitely expects both explanation and apology.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Sugimoto’s kisses vary from slow and passionate to fast and shy depending on the situation. Through the day trying to avoid unwanted attention he may give them peck on the nose or cheek. In more intimate atmosphere Sugimoto doesn’t care where to kiss. He just does. From head to toes and all that jazz. Taking into account how many scars there are on Sugimoto’s body and how sensitive they can be (nerve damage is a bitch) he loves to be kissed along these darkened lines. Gently and with cautious.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Initially, when encountering child, Sugimoto is overwhelmed with enthusiasm. It slowly dies down when he realizes how capricious kids can be and how loud they can scream. He tries his best with babies (fails) but has more luck with older children, like Asirpa’s age because, thankfully to acquired experience, there is already a rough understanding of their psyche. Anyway, Sugimoto still needs someone to reminder him that not everybody is so independent, and smart, and self-sufficient. And, yes, it’s one of his dreams to become father, and not just father, but amazing, proud, cool dad. He will 100% cry when his kid makes first steps, says first dada, and smiles at him too.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Even after Sugimoto decided to settle down, his heart desires adventure. No matter how lazy the morning is, which, incidentally, is not often, he will find a moment to offer to go somewhere. Incredibly beautiful sandy coasts and crystal clear water beckon to the south, Kanazawa looms with magnificent castles and temples in the west, the capital of Tokyo beats with life in the east. North is always calling, north is much more than a direction. In the mornings, Sugimoto likes to talk about the future, about plans, while breakfast is getting cold in the pot. He never leaves home without a morning kiss goodbye.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Usually Sugimoto comes home tired so he needs time alone, but after this, he is ready to start household chores while talking about his day. He likes to embellish events to make his loved one have a good laugh. Otherwise, evenings with Sugimoto are spend on the fresh air: he is one of those people who jump into the yet cold river to open the swimming season, or go look for mushrooms in cool weather to enjoy the forest view.

When one of the acquaintances pops up on the horizon, he always goes with them and his loved one to a diner for a strong drink and latest news. Sometimes such nights last longer than expected. Tipsy merry Sugimoto stops right on the doorstep of the house, turns around, crushes on the ground, and invites them to do the same. Does he remember the names of the constellations? No. Will he show off and introduce them to a loved one? Absolutely.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Pretty open about his past from the beginning because he never had a dark mysterious background at the first place. Any questions you ask Sugimoto will answer with straight truth. Well, maybe, he’ll hold back some facts that may put person in danger or distress like extreme violent incidents from the army days. In addition, Sugimoto doesn’t need special moments of revelation to open up, he is just consistently outspoken.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

In everyday life, Sugimoto appears laid-back, you need to try hard to piss him off. Little troubles don't bother him much, he quickly cools down if unforeseen situation occurs. However, once someone starts to bully his loved ones, his hair spikes up and the formidable Sugimoto the Immortal shows up. Trust me, he is not averse to shouting and kicking some ass.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Either way he is inattentive or his memory is that bad but Sugimoto manages to forget almost everything about his loved one. It is not on purpose, you can see him listening very carefully to your words, but it happens. After conversation ends, his brain goes in “no thoughts, head empty” mode, and, no matter how long he stands in front of grandma’s flower stand, Sugimoto can’t remember your favorite flowers. Don’t start me on dates. Reminders the day before are essential if you don’t want to hear “Wait, what do you mean what day is it today?” on your anniversary.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

First meeting. He giggles nervously when talking about it since not only Sugimoto got to show off in the buff but also brought menace in the form of 7th division on their place. Who knows what was more shameful? While apologizing for unfortunate inconveniences, Sugimoto felt a spark between them, subtle chemistry, that was growing stronger the longer he watched their lips moving. On the day of departure he pulled a cap lower and promised to see them again but this time he was going to bring something more pleasant than Tsurumi’s hellhounds.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Sugimoto is as protective as a personal guardian. He is sensitive to a change in general atmosphere and can easily sense evil intentions even if person hides behind a mask of geniality. In that case, Sugimoto warns his loved one about his misgivings and refuses to leave their side. For example, he’ll be extra wary around Ogata and you can tell he is almost waiting for a mistake to stab him between the ribs. Sugimoto doesn’t expect to be protected by anyone but if they do shield him, he’ll have one more reason to be proud and give thanks to heaven for such amazing partner.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

With his hectic lifestyle, Sugimoto has no other option than to make every meeting special. There is not much he can do to surprise them with expensive gifts, like jewelry or clothes, but he can pick a modest bouquet for them or save unique things from endless journeys. Even if it’s just outdoor recreation or evening spent in each other's arms Sugimoto tries to make it unforgettable. If he remembers about anniversary (see Quizzes), he will involve other people in order to do something exceptional. As an absolute sweetheart, Sugimoto puts a lot of effort to make his partner happy, happier tomorrow that today, every day.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Do troubles follow Sugimoto wherever he goes or does he choose the path with the highest number of adventures? It doesn’t matter because either way his life is a mess consisting of dangerous ventures and questionable acquaintances. It may be fun in the beginning but if you are not ready for continuous strength tests and psychological thrillers, relationship with Sugimoto will become a pure torment.

In addition to this Sugimoto never makes plans for the future. He has assumptions about where he will be tomorrow and, possibly, the day after tomorrow but nothing more.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Sugimoto doesn’t give his looks a lot of thought. He tries to keep clothes in wearable condition and wash them from time to time, especially beloved scarf and cap, but if there are some spots on the outwear, Sugimoto won’t give that much attention. If we talk about overall appearance, uncountable scars do not bother him either. One more, one less, at some point you stop noticing their present, even on the face. Complement Sugimoto on how scars adorn a man and you’ll get a smug smirk in response.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

So heartbroken and dejected that Sugimoto can’t contain himself and seeks confrontation with everybody around. No matter if they had to leave him or they were deceased, he seems to be on the edge all the time. Irritated. Overthinking. He looks for a time alone, subjects himself to extreme challenges to get all negative emotions out. Sugimoto gets attached easily, no wonder he feels so torn. Takes about three months to cool down and year more to stop thinking about them. If anyone dared to take significant other from Sugimoto the Immortal, he will find this person and make them pay. Sugimoto is merciless in his revenge.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Sugimoto has a clear understanding of his own mortality. Screaming lungs out doesn’t cancel it, layered wounds do not give him resistance as cumulative effect. So one of his wish is in case of his death during the skin-hunt, he doesn’t want anyone to bring this message to his loved one. It may seem cruel from one’s perspective, but he wants to support an established name of a warrior whom death itself could not defeat.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Unreasonable blind violence, both to people and animals, disgusts Sugimoto to the core. Protecting yourself from the attacking soldier, bandit, bear is one thing, justified and valid, but taking anger out on innocent stranger or scared animal that did nothing to deserve such suffering is too much. If person is also proud of it, they will receive unbelievable amount of backlash.

Egocentrism and mind-games. First one comes from the bitter experience. You can't expect the universe to revolve around you, there are millions of people, thousands of fates, and they all depend on each other, they work just because another one exist. Show him a person that acts like a center of the world and Sugimoto will run run run. Second one is tightly connected to egocentrism since to force world build around yourself, you have to force it. Often it’s done by manipulation. If person tries to have him wrapped around their finger, Sugimoto will confront them once. There won’t be a second time.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Military orders are so ingrained in Sugimoto’s brains that his organism automatically shuts down at the same time every day. He wakes up at dawn, fresh and full of strength, and there’s not a chance he will fall asleep again.

Never remembers dreams and is thankful for this. He has no dreams but gloomy nightmares, filled with people who are no longer alive, sounds of firing canons and harrowing screams, bombed-out trenches and blackened bunkers. They force Sugimoto to jump up in bed in the middle of the night, covered in cold sweat, breathing like a cornered animal. At such moments, he checks for loved one by his side and watches their chest going up and down with each breath. It calms him down a little but not enough to put him back to sleep.

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy headcanon #golden kamuy imagine #saichi sugimoto #sugimoto saichi #tosikowrites

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needtherapy · 3 years

Text

soaring, carried aloft on the wind...continued 21

An arranged-marriage story for Xichen and Mingjue, in another time and another place.

The Beifeng, the mighty empire of the north, invaded more than a year ago, moving inexorably south and east.

In order to buy peace, the chief of the Lan clan has given the Beifeng warlord a gift, his second oldest son in marriage. However, when Xichen finds out he makes a plan.

He, too, can give a gift to the Beifeng warlord, and he will not regret it.

Part 1: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 Part 2: 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 … HOME

It’s complete on AO3 here.

Notes: Check the tags if you’re concerned about the pairings ;) This chapter is rated E for Explicit

For translations of the entirely fictitious Beifeng language, you’ll have to scroll to notes. I’m only going to translate something that’s not clear in the text. Sadly, there’s just not any other good way to do it on Tumblr!

Chapter 21 Earlier

It didn’t take long for Xichen to find Huaisang leaning on a hitching post, watching a herd of horses gallop through the valley on the north side of the encampment. If Xichen hadn’t fully appreciated it when he had first arrived, by now, he understood how seriously the Ikarahu took their horses.

There were four herds, divided for safety and for grazing, and during this winter armistice, the hostlers moved them in a circle between the camp and across the plains to find new pastures in the mornings and afternoons. Between the fields, they ran the horses to preserve their strength, to discourage infighting, and, Xichen heartily believed, because it was so spectacularly beautiful to watch.

He stood silently with Huaisang for a while, the horses a patchwork of color in the distance.

“I never really wanted to come on this campaign,” Huaisang said as the herd thundered in a circle toward them.

If Xichen had not seen them do this before, he would have been terrified to be standing in their path. As they always did, though, the riders driving this river of horseflesh turned the group with shouts and flashing whips. The horses banked, slowing as they swept past Huaisang and Xichen so closely, Xichen could almost have reached out and grazed his hand along their silky flanks. It was only the appearance of danger, and the riders were always in control, guiding the horses whether they realized it or not. The herd slowed as they approached the corrals on the western edge of the camp. Xichen knew they would be walked now, and each would be groomed and brushed and cared for as diligently as though they were people.

“Why did you?” Xichen asked, pressing Huaisang about his mood more than he usually would.

Huaisang sidestepped, dodging what Xichen was truly asking. “I couldn’t say no. I will finish what we started but...I’m ready for something else.”

He sounded unusually discouraged, and Xichen patted his hand. He couldn’t think of calming words for Huaisang when his own thoughts were filled with clanging anxiety, spinning eddies of ice and snow. He was afraid he didn’t have the option of something else, or, if there was something else, Xichen was afraid he wouldn’t like it. Two months ago, he had thought he knew where his life was headed, but now...now he wasn’t entirely sure what Mingjue’s plan was for him. And after seeing such clear evidence that Guangyao’s interests were not merely political, Xichen was worried that some other arrangement might be determined for him. He wished he had someone to talk to. He wished he could talk to Wangji.

“If I wrote to my brother, would you find someone to deliver the letters?” he asked, swallowing the shame of asking a question he should have voiced months ago.

Huaisang tipped his head like his hawk, eyebrows snapping together. “Of course, Xichen. You...we would never keep you from your family.”

Xichen nodded, already planning the words to write. He had taken too long, and he couldn’t even remember what he was waiting for. No, he did know. He hadn’t wanted to face the consequences of leaving and then, later, the difficulty of explaining why he didn’t want to return. He would send letters tomorrow. He didn’t know if his brother would forgive him for leaving or forgive him for his silence, but it was time to find out. He couldn’t spend his life running only in a circle.

A smile flitted across Huaisang’s face, but it couldn’t quite disguise the sadness in his voice. “I miss my family too, Xichen. I miss my home. I know you lived on a mountain, but you have not seen datik like ours. They will take your breath away. Do you know what the sunrise looks like from the top of a mountain?”

For once, Xichen didn’t allow the change of subject to distract him. He pushed back, one act of bravery spurring another. “Why did you leave the tent?”

This time Huaisang’s quirked smile seemed authentic. “I could ask you the same.” He shrugged. “I thought Guangyao would be an opportunity, but I might have been wrong. He is unpredictable and chaotic.”

Unpredictable and chaotic were not words Xichen would have used. He had always thought of Guangyao as cautious and purposeful, if not always fully honest, and he wondered what Huaisang had seen that he hadn’t.

“Qingyang says he has reasons of his own for being here,” Xichen offered, and Huaisang snorted.

“Of course he does. But his actions don’t make any sense.” Huaisang paused and chewed thoughtfully on his lip. “Not as far as I can tell. If he is a spy…well, if I was a spy, I would do things differently. And if I was a prisoner, I would also do things differently.”

“Was your mission with the bridge a success?” Xichen asked, wondering if that was what Huaisang was referring to. He also found it strange that Guangyao would help the Ikarahu.

“Yes, it was,” Huaisang answered with a frown. “I am certain it was.”

He pulled his kitingi fan from his belt and snapped it open, spinning it in circles, flipping it between his hands, obviously pondering something. Xichen watched and waited, but with a sigh and a frown, Huaisang eventually put the fan away. His most glib smile settled on his lips, a smile meant to hide his true thoughts, and Xichen knew the conversation was over.

“Shall we make anakau suffer a little longer? We don’t get many sunny days, and I feel like a ride.”

Xichen’s lips twitched. He would not have worded it quite that way, and yet...

“What a remarkable idea, anati. I haven’t ridden in days,” he agreed and together, they trailed along behind the horses all the way back to camp. Xichen audaciously borrowed Mingjue’s black mare and followed Huaisang in a pounding gallop across the hard-packed plains.

By now, he was a skilled rider; not as confident as any of the Ikarahu, but enough that he could let muscle memory keep him on the horse’s back while the pace and the cold cleared his mind and settled his doubts. He thought about his future. He thought about what he needed and what he was willing to give up. And he thought about whether he was a coward who would walk away or a man who would fight for what he wanted.

By the time Xichen returned to his tent, he was tired and sated in a way he had not felt in some time, and he was able to shove aside the flood of anxiety that tried to whirl back when he saw Mingjue waiting for him. He was barefoot, braids loose around his shoulders, wearing only pants. Xichen was absolutely certain he intended to look as irresistible as possible. He did not miscalculate. Xichen wanted him immediately, wanted to claim every part of him.

Well, why should he not?

Throwing his belt and coat on the floor, he reached Mingjue in three long strides and pushed him back onto the bed, straddling his hips and kissing him with teeth and fangs. He gripped the flesh of Mingjue’s shoulder with one hand, fingers agile from playing the guqin. The other hand, strong from wielding a sword, wrapped around Mingjue’s thigh and Xichen ground down on him, hard enough that Mingjue hissed, cupping his hands around Xichen’s buttocks and arching under him.

Xichen’s heart sang as Mingjue matched his force and ardor without question. He only tried to roll Xichen over once, his voice already halfway to pleading, but Xichen didn’t relent. If he belonged to Mingjue, then Mingjue would also belong to him.

When Mingjue was desperate, bucking wildly underneath him, Xichen kicked off his pants without bothering to fully undress and crawled forward.

“Open your mouth, ahoraho,” he said, relishing how eagerly Mingjue obeyed.

Xichen caressed his face, the straight slope of his nose, the lines around his eyes, the creases in his cheeks that hid the dimples he loved so much as he fucked Mingjue’s willing mouth. Mingjue’s hands on Xichen’s hips urged Xichen to thrust harder, and Xichen did, wanting to mark every piece of Mingjue as his, his, his.

Before the gnawing ache of climax could overtake him, Xichen grabbed a handful of Mingjue’s braids and yanked, angling his head back and wresting a moan from Mingjue that vibrated around his cock and through his gut. Mingjue’s fingers dug into Xichen’s back as he sucked him further into his mouth, forcing his cock against the back of his throat, sending sparks shooting through Xichen’s entire body. With a satisfied groan, Mingjue swallowed, once, twice, the tension nearly keeling Xichen over. The third time Mingjue swallowed, the tightly bruising band around his heart released its grip, and Xichen saw stars dancing in his eyes as the world dissolved in white cloud of pleasure.

He was dimly aware of falling to the side, closing his eyes to bathe in the fading warmth that still pulsed through him. Mingjue curled tightly around Xichen whispering endearments, stroking his hair, nuzzling his neck. He used the other hand to unfasten Xichen’s robes and rubbed his stomach when he finally got them undone. Xichen almost laughed at how much of him Mingjue was trying to touch at once.

“Ah, Xichen, I am sorry. I know I should not tease,” Mingjue murmured, soft breath tickling Xichen’s ear. “But I love when you are fierce.”

“You meant for me to be jealous so I would…ravish you?” Xichen asked. He couldn’t decide if he was annoyed or not. Maybe a little annoyed.

Mingjue snuggled closer to Xichen, and despite his pique, Xichen turned toward the scent of earth and cedar.

“I did not mean it, but I did not dislike it. You shine like the sun when you are defending what is yours, my bright heart.” Mingjue’s hand reached the arch of Xichen’s hip bone and traced the line lower.

“Do you want him as a lover?” Xichen asked, trying to sound as though it didn’t matter, but it did matter. In that moment, it was the only thing that mattered.

Mingjue leaned up on one elbow to regard him, his perceptive expression reminding Xichen that for all his gentle ways, he was not a fool.

“No. If he had come to me before you, I might have...considered it,” he answered cautiously. “But he did not, and so it is no matter. There is only you now.”

Mingjue’s expression shifted, as if he wanted to say more. Xichen wondered if he would ask the same question.

“If you wish him, or wish us both, I will not argue, aitapaho,” he said finally, his fingers skimming circles on Xichen’s chest.

Xichen intended to deny it immediately, but something about Mingjue’s expression gave him pause. It was unusually guarded and neutral, and Xichen felt he owed him honest consideration.

It was true that Guangyao was attractive, intelligent, cultured—all the things Xichen would have looked for in a partner or second spouse when he was heir to the Cloud Recesses, difficulties with inheritance and politics aside. Perhaps if he was a better man, Xichen thought, he would be generous enough to share Mingjue with someone he liked well enough. But he was certain he didn’t have that kind of unselfishness in him.

Xichen knew the unpredictability of war, even if he preferred not to think of it. He knew the Ikarahu would return to the mountains someday. He knew eventually, things would change between him and Mingjue. Whatever time they had together, Xichen wanted to keep it for himself.

And then, of course, there was Huaisang. Xichen still wasn’t certain what the extent or truth of Huaisang’s interest was, but he did not wish to cause any impediment if it was real.

“I do not. He is not you, ahoraho,” Xichen said, taking Mingjue’s hand and kissing the knuckles, touching the tiny nicks and scars from years of carrying a sword and pulling a bow. “No one is you.”

Mingjue threw his leg over Xichen and rubbed against him, hard still or hard again, his fingers trembling in Xichen’s hair. “I want to see you ride me tonight, Huan. Every night. You, and no one else.” He should be past blushing at Mingjue’s shameless words, but Xichen knew his cheeks had reddened, and he was chagrined to realize that he was as insatiable as Mingjue. He retrieved the bottle of oil and climbed on top of Mingjue’s solid form, to let him be a bulwark against all of Xichen’s uncertainty. He wanted to trust this love, at least.

Leisurely, meticulously, he pulled his robes off, basking in the light of Mingjue’s heated gaze. With a slow smile of his own, he poured oil onto his hand, slicking his fingers.

“I will,” he agreed. “But first, I want to taste you, ahoraho.” He kissed Mingjue’s throat, raking teeth across his collarbone, licking the salt from his skin and trailing his lips in a path down his broad chest.

“And touch you.” Xichen slid back to straddle the hard muscle of Mingjue’s thighs, rubbing his thumb across Mingjue’s lips, pushing between them when they parted. Mingjue closed his eyes with a muted whimper, biting down, the hard tip of his tongue asking Xichen for more.

“And hear you,” Xichen said, before he agreed to more, closing his hand around the hot velvet of Mingjue’s cock with a rough, decisive stroke. He did, indeed, love the sounds Mingjue made, the faltering exhale of Xichen’s name, a rumbling moan, the quickening of his breath.

This is what I never knew I always wanted, Xichen thought, lips and hands stoking the smoldering fire in Mingjue’s eyes. To be yours and no one else’s, he thought, settling back and joining their bodies slowly, agonizingly, sublimely slowly. As you are mine, and no one else’s, he thought, smiling with love, exulting in the satisfaction of their union.

#soaring au #the untamed #cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #nie mingjue #lan xichen #nielan #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #sangyao #mdzs au #cql au #Kristina writes tiny stories #complete on ao3

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lastsonlost · 4 years

Text

BECAUSE THE CORONAVIRUS IS JUST HURTING FEMINIST AND ONLY FEMINISTS AND ABSOLUTELY NO ONE ELSE...

..........

Enough already. When people try to be cheerful about social distancing and working from home, noting that William Shakespeare and Isaac Newton did some of their best work while England was ravaged by the plague, there is an obvious response: Neither of them had child-care responsibilities.

Shakespeare spent most of his career in London, where the theaters were, while his family lived in Stratford-upon-Avon. During the plague of 1606, the playwright was lucky to be spared from the epidemic—his landlady died at the height of the outbreak—and his wife and two adult daughters stayed safely in the Warwickshire countryside. Newton, meanwhile, never married or had children. He saw out the Great Plague of 1665–6 on his family’s estate in the east of England, and spent most of his adult life as a fellow at Cambridge University, where his meals and housekeeping were provided by the college.

For those with caring responsibilities, an infectious-disease outbreak is unlikely to give them time to write King Lear or develop a theory of optics. A pandemic magnifies all existing inequalities (even as politicians insist this is not the time to talk about anything other than the immediate crisis). Working from home in a white-collar job is easier; employees with salaries and benefits will be better protected; self-isolation is less taxing in a spacious house than a cramped apartment. But one of the most striking effects of the coronavirus will be to send many couples back to the 1950s.

Across the world, women’s independence will be a silent victim of the pandemic.

Purely as a physical illness, the coronavirus appears to affect women less severely. But in the past few days, the conversation about the pandemic has broadened: We are not just living through a public-health crisis, but an economic one. As much of normal life is suspended for three months or more, job losses are inevitable. At the same time, school closures and household isolation are moving the work of caring for children from the paid economy—nurseries, schools, babysitters—to the unpaid one. The coronavirus smashes up the bargain that so many dual-earner couples have made in the developed world: We can both work, because someone else is looking after our children. Instead, couples will have to decide which one of them takes the hit.

Many stories of arrogance are related to this pandemic. Among the most exasperating is the West’s failure to learn from history: the Ebola crisis in three African countries in 2014; Zika in 2015–6; and recent outbreaks of SARS, swine flu, and bird flu. Academics who studied these episodes found that they had deep, long-lasting effects on gender equality. “Everybody’s income was affected by the Ebola outbreak in West Africa,” Julia Smith, a health-policy researcher at Simon Fraser University, told The New York Times this month, but “men’s income returned to what they had made pre-outbreak faster than women’s income.” The distorting effects of an epidemic can last for years, Clare Wenham, an assistant professor of global-health policy at the London School of Economics, told me. “We also saw declining rates of childhood vaccination [during Ebola].” Later, when these children contracted preventable diseases, their mothers had to take time off work.

At an individual level, the choices of many couples over the next few months will make perfect economic sense. What do pandemic patients need? Looking after. What do self-isolating older people need? Looking after. What do children kept home from school need? Looking after. All this looking after—this unpaid caring labor—will fall more heavily on women, because of the existing structure of the workforce. “It’s not just about social norms of women performing care roles; it’s also about practicalities,” Wenham added. “Who is paid less? Who has the flexibility?”

According to the British government’s figures, 40 percent of employed women work part-time, compared with only 13 percent of men. In heterosexual relationships, women are more likely to be the lower earners, meaning their jobs are considered a lower priority when disruptions come along. And this particular disruption could last months, rather than weeks. Some women’s lifetime earnings will never recover. With the schools closed, many fathers will undoubtedly step up, but that won’t be universal.

Despite the mass entry of women into the workforce during the 20th century, the phenomenon of the “second shift” still exists. Across the world, women—including those with jobs—do more housework and have less leisure time than their male partners. Even memes about panic-buying acknowledge that household tasks such as food shopping are primarily shouldered by women. “I’m not afraid of COVID-19 but what is scary, is the lack of common sense people have,” reads one of the most popular tweets about the coronavirus crisis. “I’m scared for people who actually need to go to the store & feed their fams but Susan and Karen stocked up for 30 years.” The joke only works because “Susan” and “Karen”—stand-in names for suburban moms—are understood to be responsible for household management, rather than, say, Mike and Steve.

Look around and you can see couples already making tough decisions on how to divide up this extra unpaid labor. When I called Wenham, she was self-isolating with two small children; she and her husband were alternating between two-hour shifts of child care and paid work. That is one solution; for others, the division will run along older lines. Dual-income couples might suddenly find themselves living like their grandparents, one homemaker and one breadwinner. “My spouse is a physician in the emergency dept, and is actively treating #coronavirus patients. We just made the difficult decision for him to isolate & move into our garage apartment for the foreseeable future as he continues to treat patients,” wrote the Emory University epidemiologist Rachel Patzer, who has a three-week-old baby and two young children. “As I attempt to home school my kids (alone) with a new baby who screams if she isn’t held, I am worried about the health of my spouse and my family.”

Single parents face even harder decisions: While schools are closed, how do they juggle earning and caring? No one should be nostalgic for the “1950s ideal” of Dad returning to a freshly baked dinner and freshly washed children, when so many families were excluded from it, even then. And in Britain today, a quarter of families are headed by a single parent, more than 90 percent of whom are women. Closed schools make their life even harder.

Other lessons from the Ebola epidemic were just as stark—and similar, if perhaps smaller, effects will be seen during this crisis in the developed world. School closures affected girls’ life chances, because many dropped out of education. (A rise in teenage-pregnancy rates exacerbated this trend.) Domestic and sexual violence rose. And more women died in childbirth because resources were diverted elsewhere. “There’s a distortion of health systems, everything goes towards the outbreak,” said Wenham, who traveled to west Africa as a researcher during the Ebola crisis. “Things that aren’t priorities get canceled. That can have an effect on maternal mortality, or access to contraception.” The United States already has appalling statistics in this area compared with other rich countries, and black women there are twice as likely to die in childbirth as white women.

For Wenham, the most striking statistic from Sierra Leone, one of the countries worst affected by Ebola, was that from 2013 to 2016, during the outbreak, more women died of obstetric complications than the infectious disease itself. But these deaths, like the unnoticed caring labor on which the modern economy runs, attract less attention than the immediate problems generated by an epidemic. These deaths are taken for granted. In her book Invisible Women, Caroline Criado Perez notes that 29 million papers were published in more than 15,000 peer-reviewed titles around the time of the Zika and Ebola epidemics, but less than 1 percent explored the gendered impact of the outbreaks. Wenham has found no gender analysis of the coronavirus outbreak so far; she and two co-authors have stepped into the gap to research the issue.

The evidence we do have from the Ebola and Zika outbreaks should inform the current response. In both rich and poor countries, campaigners expect domestic-violence rates to rise during lockdown periods. Stress, alcohol consumption, and financial difficulties are all considered triggers for violence in the home, and the quarantine measures being imposed around the world will increase all three. The British charity Women’s Aid said in a statement that it was “concerned that social distancing and self-isolation will be used as a tool of coercive and controlling behaviour by perpetrators, and will shut down routes to safety and support.”

Researchers, including those I spoke with, are frustrated that findings like this have not made it through to policy makers, who still adopt a gender-neutral approach to pandemics. They also worry that opportunities to collect high-quality data which will be useful for the future are being missed. For example, we have little information on how viruses similar to the coronavirus affect pregnant women—hence the conflicting advice during the current crisis—or, according to Susannah Hares, a senior policy fellow at the Center for Global Development, sufficient data to build a model for when schools should reopen.

We shouldn’t make that mistake again. Grim as it is to imagine now, further epidemics are inevitable, and the temptation to argue that gender is a side issue, a distraction from the real crisis, must be resisted. What we do now will affect the lives of millions of women and girls in future outbreaks.

The coronavirus crisis will be global and long-lasting, economic as well as medical. However, it also offers an opportunity. This could be the first outbreak where gender and sex differences are recorded, and taken into account by researchers and policy makers. For too long, politicians have assumed that child care and elderly care can be “soaked up” by private citizens—mostly women—effectively providing a huge subsidy to the paid economy. This pandemic should remind us of the true scale of that distortion.

Wenham supports emergency child-care provision, economic security for small-business owners, and a financial stimulus paid directly to families. But she isn’t hopeful, because her experience suggests that governments are too short-termist and reactive. “Everything that's happened has been predicted, right?” she told me. “As a collective academic group, we knew there would be an outbreak that came out of China, that shows you how globalization spreads disease, that’s going to paralyze financial systems, and there was no pot of money ready to go, no governance plan … We knew all this, and they didn't listen. So why would they listen to something about women?”

Remember this article the next time a politician brings up the draft again...

because I remember the last reaction.

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