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qtipcottonbuds · 2 years

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𝙔𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝘼𝙇𝙋𝙃𝘼𝘽𝙀𝙏 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙃𝘼𝙒𝙆𝙎 [PART TWO]

split into two parts, with this second part being from letters n to z (also, first time doing this so). also, credited blog here for the alphabet !!! this will be quite lengthy - and it’s more of a mini look at keigo in a darker light.

warnings ;; potential mild language, references to emotionally manipulation, potential physical harm, stalking, obsessions, also references possibly to the dark triad.

by qtipcottonbuds 2022. do not repost.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗘!𝗛𝗔𝗪𝗞𝗦 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥;

NAUGHTY ; HOW WOULD THEY PUNISH THEIR VICTIM?

I feel he’d lean more into the emotional tactics of manipulation, as a form of punishment, but that being said, he would potentially consider more physical punishments. Verbal communication might not always work in your dynamic with him, so he may have to resort to more physical to really get the point across.

OPPRESSION ; HOW MANY RIGHTS WOULD THEY TAKE AWAY FROM THEIR VICTIM?

Had to have a deep think in my noggin’ for this one; but, it’s very dependent on the circumstances. Although, I do think there would be a small exception of him withdrawing from your company completely (again, falling into a sort of narcissistic pattern of push and pull) where, maybe in the beginning stages it wouldn’t bother you as much, because of the initial shock of being abducted and therefore resenting your kidnapper entirely.

But, being forced into a situation for an uncertain amount of time where, Hawks is the only true source of socialisation you have at all (and as social creatures to some extent), you’d start to seek him out. Unknowingly or willingly, maybe the pair of them together. And, again, through Hawks doing this method of reassuring you with so much comfort and ‘love’ having that torn away so abruptly, it’s bound to cause confusion - (what did you do wrong?) - and Hawks will play on this growing fear of being alone. Being abandoned. And knowing you have no one else to rely on apart from him in the long-term; if he never returned, where would that leave you?

PATIENCE ; HOW PATIENT ARE THEY?

Very. His patience should be regarded as something of a virtue, but in this alternate turn of events, it’s a vice to say the least - how he plans out his means of involving himself into your life, your workspace, your personal space, no matter how long it will take, it will be all worth it in the long run. Committed is an understatement. I think as well too, to keep in mind, regardless of what stunts you may pull in order to push his buttons to trigger some sort of response (to get some idea of what you’re working with if you’re brave enough to), you can’t really predict what he’ll do.

For someone so indifferent most of the time, with a smile that doesn’t truly reach his eyes, whatever you chose to do to provoke him, he’d still remain patient. Sure enough, the punishments, abuse, manipulation may escalate to some extremes, but soon enough, he’ll break you down to the point where you realise that no one is coming to save you. He is all you have.

QUIT ; IF THEIR VICTIM DIES, LEAVES OR SUCCESSFULLY ESCAPES, WOULD THEY EVER BE ABLE TO MOVE ON?

A part of me would like to think Hawks would be capable of moving forward after, let’s say, their victim escaped, in this scenario. But, I genuinely don’t think he’d be able to move on, in the sense that - he’s put in so much effort, methodically planning on how to integrate himself into your friend group, understand your once schedule of a past life and so much more, the process of preparing the right time for abduction, securing a specific area where said darling would house and ultimately the breaking down and emotional abuse.

He’s prepared and thought out every scenario to possibly happen (and remember in this case, it’s a situation of the darling escaping); he wouldn’t move on, or rather, give up. Hawks would find you again. Providing the amount of social (acquaintances) connections he has due to hero networking, even if you did escape, would anyone truly believe you?

In the situation where you had died; then it would not be pretty. Sure enough, he’d maintain enough compursure to continue hero duties, manage attending events etc, but, the charismatic mask of his usual demeanour would falter at times, more often than not. More cruel. Indifferent. Impartial. And, potentially tying in with a heapload of guilt (depending if he was the one to cause your death), and self-awareness, warping into one, and possibly self-hatred too. He knows what he was doing, and what he did was wrong on several levels. And, I think, in the circumstances of handling your death (of course, no one would be aware that the said missing persons case would ever be resolved), it would be him and him alone dealing with it. He’d handle the burial, alone. And he’d yet again, attempt to pull away from the bond you had formed with him, he’d killed enough people to get used to it, right?

REGRET ; WOULD THEY EVER FEEL GUILTY ABOUT ABDUCTING THEIR VICTIM? WOULD THEY CONSIDER LETTING THEM GO?

In the beginning stages, maybe. But, because of that innate self-awareness, it would sort of fall into a situation of him rationalising his actions, given the circumstances, and then justifying them afterwards - becoming a constant cycle, but with each of his actions progressively becoming worse. As long as he can understand why he’s doing these things, then it balances it out. The ends always justify the means.

STIGMA ; WHAT BROUGHT ABOUT THIS SIDE OF THEM (CHILDHOOD, CURIOSITY, ETC?)

This is a very loaded question; (because there are several factors that come into play here, and that might’ve contributed, however!) I think the main overall contributing factor that lead Hawks to this, I guess you could say mentality, is his desire to have the attention on him. In the public eye, everyone is watching, but they aren’t seeing - to some extent, he wants to be idolised. Knowing he ultimately has the ability to save, and take away life - he is a saviour. You owe him.

Is this maybe bordering on a God-like complex of being superior to everyone else? Potentially. I think that would be more of a progression into the long-term if the public continued to feed into his ego about his placement amongst the other heroes, and maybe, Hawks playing around with the idea of choosing who to save. Possibly having a isolated victim in a attack plead for why he should save them - and if they don’t beg properly for their lives, it’s not like people will learn the truth. It’ll just be portrayed as one of the many victims who died due to the accident.

TEARS ; HOW DO THEY FEEL ABOUT SEEING THEIR VICTIMS SCREAM, CRY, AND/OR ISOLATE THEMSELVES?

Going back to the natural indifference, Hawks holds himself with, if you’d caused a situation which then resulted in you crying/screaming (in the example of punishment), then no remorse would be felt to some extent - it was all in the idea that it was for the benefit of you - making you better. Reforming you.

Although, in the circumstances of you being given a punishment for whatever reason, and him delivering said punishment, only to find out that you were innocent - then yes he’d feel guilty. Hawks prides himself on never being wrong; so, for this to happen, and you being undeserving of whatever abuse he’d inflict on you, I think his level of self-awareness would allow him to at least try and reconcile with what happened. He’d never explain that he’d make a mistake, or had made one, but, he would try to butter you up with sweet words, and almost dismiss what may have happened entirely depending on the severity of the punishment.

However, with the isolation aspect, it always would fall back to - what would he have to gain from you behaving like that? Even if you weren’t engaging in any real conversations he’d try to maintain with you after a shift at work, maybe being reduced to nothing but hums, grunts and nods of acknowledgement as a means of greeting - as long as you were giving him physical comfort and reassurance with your presence by just being near him, allowing him to bend you to his will, I don’t think he’d really care. You were doing what he needed you to do.

UNIQUE ; WOULD THEY DO ANYTHING DIFFERENT FROM THE CLASSIC YANDERE TROPE?

I don’t think he’d fall into the lines of making threats towards potential family members or friends really, I’d view him as someone who’d prey on darlings who’d naturally have no-one, or maybe a few close friends at the most as a makeshift family - the more dysfunctional and lack of contact with the victim’s family in the initial meeting phase, the better.

VICE ; WHAT WEAKNESS CAN THEIR VICTIM EXPLOIT IN ORDER TO USE TO THEIR ADVANTAGE?

His ego; but not in the way you’d think. I’m assuming this on the basis that, Hawks, being praised constantly by everyone else in the public eye - he’s more than aware that he’s the top of the top. He is above the majority, particularly in the power dynamic of authority, even in a general setting where you might not even be aware of his status.

But, in moments of sheer vulnerability where (I highly doubt though) he’d open up about past mistakes - again, emphasis on the doubt, because he views himself as someone who doesn’t make mistakes, whatsoever, if it had to be done, it had to be done - or opening up about possible trauma and you purely just lending a ear to listen to whatever he has to say? It might not give you the end goal, of having enough inconsistency on his part, to escape, but you would be given some privileges to keep you occupied whilst he’s away. Books, films; small things to indulge yourself in to pass time.

WITS END ; WOULD THEIR EVER HURT THEIR VICTIM?

He wouldn’t be opposed to it. Being brought up in a facility with almost simulated environments of the outside world (even though he did have some sort of established contact with others), that upbringing most likely interfered with his ability to form actual emotional attachments. Instead, naturally having a barrier of detachment between each connection he makes, and continues to strengthen so to speak.

And, some of these said emotional attachments, may be placed of higher value, purely because of what he has to gain from them, and whether they can bring him something of value - Machiavellianism. Though, it’s not as visible as you’d think. Hawks covers that up with a more playful nature, with open ended questions posed as closed ones, and never really knowing if there's a hidden meaning underlying his words.

Hurting his said darling? What would he exactly have to gain from it? That would be his main priority, I’d think. If conditioning you with violence as a means to bargain behaviour he’d desire, if other methods weren’t working, he wouldn't be opposed to it. As shown with his somewhat ‘friendship’ with Twice. Negative reinforcement (or positive from his viewpoint) if you will.

XOANON ; HOW MUCH WOULD THEY REVERE OR WORSHIP THEIR VICTIM? TO WHAT LENGTHS WOULD THEY GO TO?

I don’t want to say he’d immediately put you on a pedestal. Although he sets high expectations for himself, I don’t really think he’d project them onto someone else, darling or not (only with the exception of Endeavour, purely because he views him as the father figure he never had, and that overlaps with his childhood ambitions of being a superhero). In some respects, you could say Hawks is used to disappointment from his own childhood, and prepares for the worst of situations; and sure enough, you may not initially live up to his standards, but that’s not to say he wouldn’t try to reform you, shaping you into an idealistic fantasy. Again, it would be based on you reaching out to him, and adapting to his needs.

YEARN ; HOW LONG DO THEY PINE AFTER THEIR VICTIM BEFORE THEY SNAP?

I think the curiosity he had for you, depending on your first ever meeting, was always there. Viewing most people as nothing but a stepping stone to move up the corporate ladder, or on the other end of the spectrum, a statistic (if we dip into the elites mindset a little); you were most likely something to him that had a use. But, I think with Hawks, there’s always been a underlying need, a dark one, to be cared for - even if you’d shown him the bare minimum (especially out of a work setting, because that’s to be expected in a pro-hero worklife), he’d indulge in it as much as he could - it’s just a matter of whether he’d actively think it was the right timing to indulge in it, but on a much pervasive level.

Again, what would he have to gain, and what risks would be involved in isolating you from the rest of the world? I don’t think he’d ever snap, so to speak, it was something that was already there to start with. It was just a matter of time before acting on those thoughts.

ZENITH ; WOULD THEY EVER BREAK THEIR VICTIM?

Now, with this, although the majority of the yandere trope have the capability of breaking down their victims, it’s definitely the case more so with Hawks - specifically the case of emotionally breaking down said darling, and rebuilding them back up with empty words, building a very unhealthy example of codependency. You need him. Why would you look to others, knowing full well he can provide you with everything you need?

That isn’t to say Hawks would actively seek this out as an end goal; rather, it’s something he’d prefer to avoid at all costs, if he can. He’d prefer you willingly coming to him, seeking him out for comfort, instead of the other way round. Again, tying in with his lack of vulnerability (unless on the brink of letting out bottled emotions) he preys on your vulnerability instead, allowing you to communicate what you need. What you’ve experienced, been, suffered through. Making him unknowingly a support system. Little tidbits of information you’d mindlessly throw out mid-conversation, not considering them to be of any value; to him, it would be stored away, picked apart and something to use for later on. And, with the lack of socialisation you’d have whilst under his care, you’d leech onto it. In due time, whether you’d like it or not.

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moodymisty · 2 years

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Literally anything fluffy with death or war. Your writing for them is amazing!!!! The darksiders is such an underrated fandom. Love your work!

Author's Note: God Darksiders really is so underrated, and I will never shut up about it. (Also ty so much ❤) But I swear my simping for Death took over me like some sort of Holy Spirit and this ended up twice as long as I intended

Of course Death was busy speaking to one of the Makers, meanwhile you were just stuck kicking rocks around and waiting around.

You swore if you didn't like him so much, you'd just ditch him there and go find Karn or something.

Despair, standing beside you and pawing at the ground but making no headway in digging an actual hole, snorted ash from his nose. You heard the sound of multiple metal parts from both his halter and saddle clink together as he shook his neck, left eye locking onto you when you stepped closer. He stilled somewhat, watching you curiously.

"Want to just bail on him?" You smiled at the horse and leaned in as if plotting a scheme, only to be surprised when he seemed to respond back.

Despair threw his head back in the direction of his saddle; Once, twice, then three times. He almost smacked you in the process, but you'd managed to lean back in time. Glancing up at his back before looking back at the horse's face, you asked the horse another question, not at all realizing how odd the whole interaction really was.

"Wait, I can get on?" The undead horse whinnied. You probably would've thought about this for a bit longer, possibly about the repercussions of it, but you were far too bored and far too excited about the idea to do so. You’d only ever ridden on Despair with Death in control; You weren’t about to pass this up even if you were kind of nervous.

When you tried to put a foot in the stirrup however, you quickly remember this was a horse ridden by a nephilim, not a human. You'd need a boost. That was normally something Death would provide, but he was still preoccupied.

So you decided to use the stone half wall nearby instead, standing on it as Despair followed close behind. After hopping on it you turned and the horse was there, and with a bit of adjusting, you had a foot in the stirrup and hefted yourself fully into the saddle.

Considering the ill-advised nature of what you were doing, it all went quite well, and the split second fear of Despair suddenly throwing you off seemed unwarranted.

You walked around for a few moments, enjoying the sound of Despair's hooves on the stone path. It seemed the horse was quickly becoming bored though, and you decided to negotiate.

"Ok, just don't go too fast, alright? I can barely hold on as is." It was hard to keep balance with your feet barely able to touch the stirrups, along with his barrel being wider than a normal horse. Letting out a snort Despair quickly sped up when you gave a soft kick to his middle with your heels, sending him trotting forward.

But with his dealings involving the unnamed Maker now finished, Death suddenly heard the snorts and whinnies happening in the background; Surely from Despair. When he turned around and noticed what was happening, he would've been a liar if he'd said he wasn't a little surprised.

He was content to watch for a few moments, seeing your-in all honestly-shoddy riding skills, but granted, you were on a horse that you could barely straddle without effort. You were having the time of your life however, smiling as you rode in different little patterns; Despair sometimes pawing his feet and throwing his head also playing around.

It seemed since Death was trusting of you his steed was as well, and had much to his surprise allowed someone else to ride him.

After a few minutes had passed Death decided to get his horse back, walking up and coming within close enough distance that you realized he was finished. Your hands were shaking the chains that served as reins, them jingling and making noise as you meandered closer.

Death sighed; Though more so at distain for the horse than its current rider.

"Are you truly so pliant that someone can just up and take you?"

He glared daggers at the horse, who for all intents and purposes, was having a joyous time. You trotted circles around the horsemen, who was on one side insulted by his mount, but on the other hand somewhat impressed by you.

If Death had been human, he probably would've been a little more mindful about mounting a horse such as Despair; For fear of both the horse and its owner.

You had no such fear however, and this was apparently the next step after you got used to constantly coddling the damn thing.

Death gestured with one hand while looking up at you, not used to having to do so.

"The time for fooling around is over. Come down." You kept trotting circles, pulling your feet from where they'd been just tip toeing the stirrups and letting them dangle comfortably.

"Um, one problem." Death sighed again. "What?"

"I can't really get down." 'Then why did you get on in the first place?' he wanted to say, but bit his tongue.

"Come here, then." stopping in Death's line of sight you turned by just barely tugging on the reins, trotting up until you were close enough to Death that he pushed his hand on the bridge of the horse's nose; Stopping him when you'd failed to do it in time. It made you suddenly jerk forward, hands darting to Despair's withers to support yourself and avoid crumpling over.

"Careful. You're lucky the horse knows better than to try and run me over."

You couldn't help but laugh even as he rounded to the side and stood at your leg. Circling his finger you threw both legs to one side, siding off and Death catching you by the waist. Once you were back on solid ground, you adjusted your clothes.

"Have your fun?" Death spoke it to both of you, watching as Despair pushed you forward accidently when he went to nuzzle your shoulder. You turned and pet him, rubbing against the bone and sinew despite it not being the most, pleasant texture.

"We did, thank you." Starting to walk where Death was going, you stayed firmly in-between Death and Despair as they both walked beside you.

"Perhaps next time, you'll pick a horse more your size?" You faked contemplation, humming as you continued to try and keep pace with him.

"Maybe." He sighed, one loud enough that it shook his chest; Though he had to purse his lips quite tight under the mask to avoid letting them crook upwards.

Once you both emerged from the Tri-Stone and into the field surrounding it Death suddenly stopped moving, Despair doing the same beside him. Since there was nothing but open field ahead and not a creature in sight, he figured there wouldn't be harm in entertaining your curiosity again.

You took a few extra steps before realizing they'd stopped, turning around to look. When you asked what was wrong, he gestured to the saddle.

"Well?" It took a second to realize what he meant, before your face suddenly lit up. Quickly you rushed back and now standing beside Death gave him a quick excited kiss on the cheek, before reaching up to try and grab the saddle horn.

He only faltered for a split second, before taking your foot in both hands and easily boosting you up and onto the front of the saddle. Deaths's hands lingered for a moment, before he grabbed onto the back of the saddle and hefted himself up with significantly little effort. He filled the space behind you, even sitting still towering a good bit over you. If the sun had been to your back, you probably would've been completely covered by his shadow.

"How fast can we go?" You turned your head over your shoulder to look up at him, his hair almost tickling your cheek.

"Just don't be reckless." A cautious arm around your stomach and a hand just barely gripping the reins just in case, Death felt you kick and send the horse into a full sprit, adrenaline filled laughter quickly filling the air as Despair kicked up chunks of dirt.

Death had never thought himself that good of a teacher, but if you were so keen on this, maybe he could give it another shot.

#mywriting #fluff is when Death stands three centimeters closer to you than usual #darksiders #death x reader #reader insert #reader #so this turned out longer than I thought it would /oops #death/reader #asks

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forensicated · 3 months

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Smiffina Episodes - Episode 431

"Would you like a cup of coffee or another cup of hot bile?" Smithy asks Kezia, being stuck with her for another shift to help her sort through some paperwork. She moans continuously at Smithy about how little she's getting to do compared to two CID sergeants (seemingly forgetting she's only a trainee DC) and doesn't seem to register that when she was actually given a case she lost her temper, blew it and then charged to the man's house and tried to harass him.

Smithy suggests that she stamps her foot for a bit to try change it and Kezia insists she's the right to be annoyed and she could be working on bigger and better things. "But you're not, you're standing there and bitching at me." he points out, telling her the more that she moans and whines about it and the less she does her work, the less likely she is to find a lead and actually get something to go out and investigate like she wants to! She really is petulant and it's not endearing in the slightest!

Thanks to Smithy guiding her, Kezia winds her neck in, crosschecks registrations, finds what she's looking for, gets the CCTV, investigates it, finds proof to her suspicions and impresses her sergeants. Funny what can happen when you actually do your job!

He returns later to find the CID briefing room in complete disarray and Sgt Army visibly twitches and starts to clear up after her, disposing of her rubbish for her. She teases him by throwing her paperwork across the desk - but dislodges a half cup of tea in the process which spills all across the paperwork. Smithy literally leaps into action to clear the mess up and then bring some order to the chaos. In doing so he finds leads amongst the mess and they are able to suggest a possible reason for the crime having happened.

Later, when Smithy has ordered everything back into nice neat piles and found the related paperwork for each part, he also has found an application form for a job that is filled out by Keith Durante - the suspected rapist that Smithy saved Kezia from a charge of harassment against the other night. It turns out that the route would have brought him into contact regularly with his suspected second victim - something he's shown a pattern of wanting to do with all his victims. Smithy suggests they check the classifieds of the local paper to see if he's applied for more - he has, all within walking distance of the hospital. He then goes on to check to see if the companies themselves have any links with St Hughes. He returns to find Kezia leaving a voicemail for Beth, telling her that she could be in danger. Smithy points out they don't know the full story so she could be worrying a rape victim that her rapist may attack her again for no reason. He makes Kezia ring Beth again to try get hold of her before she hears the message. Beth doesn't answer the phone and Kezia dismisses Smithy's insistence that she shouldn't have put her in that position, claiming she's trying to protect her. She marches over to Neil and puts it to him - and won't accept she's done wrong from her DI either!

Smithy also ends up getting read the riot act by Neil for allowing it to happen - despite knowing nothing of it and not even being in the room when it happened. And after all of that he still tried to soften Neil's blow by making an 'excuse' for her!

#dale smith #alex walkinshaw #smithy #episode 483 #kezia walker #cat simmons #andrew lancel #neil manson #smiffinalong #the bill

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richmond-rex · 1 year

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1) Hi! I had a few thoughts on the titulus regius / the claim that Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville’s marriage was invalid, they’ve gotten a little long and scattered so I’m sending them in two parts. (I tried sending it once and I don't think it got delivered, but if it did, I'm sorry for getting two similar asks)

From what I’ve observed, there is a significant amount of people (Ricardians for sure, but quite a few others who have a vague interest and understanding of the period) who view the claim as a sort of … default certainty. “Richard III uncovered proof that his brother was pre-contracted to marry someone else, and therefore his marriage to Elizabeth Woodville was null” is generally how it’s put across, with no actual emphasis or investigation into the actual probability or validity of such a claim, and certainly no emphasis on the fact that it may very well (and imo almost definitely is) complete bullshit.

Practicalities aside (almost 20 years of marriage that was accepted by the church, with Warwick and others not able to find a way to end it, only for evidence conveniently appearing after both parties are dead that would conveniently result in richard iii being the only suitable candidate for the throne), from what I’ve observed, this belief is often based on conceptions of the personalities involved rather than actual historic analysis, which is doubly frustrating. There is, for instance a deep-held belief that the claim HAS to be true, because Richard III believed/claimed it, generally citing his supposed honor, justice and impartiality as evidence. There’s also the age-old nonsense that Elizabeth Woodville was a scheming seductress who paid the price for her too-high ambitions.

With regards to Edward IV (sorry, this got really long), there is a common assumption that the supposed pre-contract follows his “typical pattern” of behavior which confuses the hell out of me because … what pattern? Edward IV acknowledged only one wedding, and only woman as his wife and queen in his life, and that was Elizabeth Woodville. A pattern only exists if one chooses to construct it, and that is only possible if one chooses to believe the contrary claim. Edward IV’s womanizing is also brought into focus … which I personally find extremely strange for several reasons. There’s no doubt about Edward IV’s infidelity, what I find curious but also rather overlooked when talking about him is that the actual intensity/importance of those affairs during his lifetime seems to have been greatly exaggerated and overstated. None of his mistresses ever had official (or from what I understand, unofficial) court positions, and none of them were specifically singled out by contemporary sources (or by Edward IV himself) during his lifetime. We don’t even explicitly know who the mothers of his illegitimate children were (although we can guess). All this, imo, very clearly suggests that while he was known for his womanizing and didn’t seem to have a problem with it, his actual affairs appear to have been very low-key and/or very brief in practice, the latter of which the Croyland Chronicle explicitly states. Jane Shore in particular is interesting, because I absolutely adore her as a historical figure, but I find it very frustrating how lots of rather obscure details about her life are viewed as outright, default facts. While I don’t doubt that there was some truth to what Thomas More wrote about her, the fact remains that he was 5 years old when Edward IV died and published his piece more than 30 years later, which would hardly make him a reliable contemporary source for the details and assumptions included in his work (the entire nature of her relationship with Edward IV for one, and Elizabeth Woodville singularly hating her for another). (I also personally find his piece rather idealized/romanticized in a very gendered manner, but that’s not relevant). So, while his writing was what made Jane intriguing to me in the first place, and like I mentioned, I’m sure there’s some truth to it, I find it rather puzzling that they’re often taken as automatic certainties. A lot of this is also due to the fact that from what I understand, Jane does not seem to have been particularly well-known as Edward IV’s mistress during his actual life? The Croyland Chronicle didn’t single her out or make any specific mention of her (or her name) across the years, and nor did any contemporary ambassador. And, as mentioned, she didn’t hold any official (or, as far as I know, unofficial) position at court, nor did she have any noteworthy far-reaching influence. (She and Edward didn’t have any known children together either, which is interesting but not very relevant). Her fame or infamy, from what I’ve understood, largely originated *after* Edward’s death, particularly after her walk of shame. More’s semi-biographical writing on her also suggests that her life wasn’t singularly known before that time. A lot of her renown also seems to have stemmed from 16th century theatre’s interest in royal mistresses, or “mistresses with hearts of gold” archetype that seems to have been famous during that time, which certainly contributed to her repute. (I can’t remember its name, but that play on her and Elizabeth Woodville is a clear example of how a lot of very clear inaccuracies served to solidify a lot of assumptions of her. Rosamond Clifford was another mistress whose death gained lots of fascination during that time).

Anon's part II under the cut:

2) and the fact remains that from I understand, while infidelity was not expected by 15th century English monarchs, there was hardly a lack of precedent. Several famous English kings (Henry I, Henry II, Edward II, Edward III, Edward the Black Prince as the heir) were infamous for their affairs, and we have far more explicit information on their mistresses and the nature of their relationships than we do with Edward’s, despite ruling long before he did, and imo, I feel like that should be considered when talking about him. I guess what I’m saying is: Edward IV was certainly a womanizer, but his affairs really don’t seem to have impacted his relationship to Elizabeth Woodville, at least not outwardly, considering the kids they had and the trust he placed in her; and it certainly did not impact her politically, considering she was the unquestioned queen who he very clearly and openly trusted with official and unofficial authority, and was not outranked or rivalled by any other woman during her time.

I think the belief in the invalidity of their marriage is also a symptom of a sort of … dismissal of Elizabeth Woodville as a person, if that makes sense? Her historiography has been largely negative until a few recent years, and a negative perception of her makes it very easy to perpetuate the belief that *of course* she was just one of the many women Edward IV courted and married, and *of course* he tired of her eventually, which not only illogically links the likelihood of a pre-contract to Elizabeth’s personal relationship with Edward over the years (never mind the fact that they were married for almost 20 years, she was regularly pregnant, and every glimpse we get into their private lives hints at a rather domestic couple), but also, imo, trivializes the notion of queenship by solely linking a queen’s worth and authority based on her relationship with the king. And while the Titulus Regius was certainly unique as far as invalidating royal marriages went, the fact remains that there had been several queens before with complex reputations and complex husbands, and it’s extremely rare to see them so cavalierly dismissed as queens in our current times the way Elizabeth Woodville has been. I don’t know if it’s linked to status or Richard III worship, but I think the whole thing is very strange, lmao.

Sorry for the length! I think this was more of a rant than anything, yikes, and solely based on what i've understood, but you’ve cited such interesting pieces regarding the claim, so I wondered what you’d think

Hello! There are so many things to address in your ask, let me see where I can begin. Most academic historians nowadays dismiss the allegations contained in the Titulus Regius as fabrications. Even if Edward IV had been pre-contracted before, his de facto marriage with Elizabeth Woodville, her recognition as queen in the presentation ceremony at Reading and her crowning at Westminster, not to mention the ceremony that recognised their son Edward as Edward IV's heir, where people made public vows before religious authorities to defend the child; all of that added to the marriage's legitimacy—all those ceremonies were legitimised before the presence of innumerable authorities of the Church.

In the same sense, Richard III never called an ecclesiastical court to judge his brother's marriage to Elizabeth Woodville, which really makes one wonder why, since it was at that time the jurisdiction of the Church. There were several ways Richard could have legitimised his brother's offspring in case Edward really had been irregularly married if Richard was so minded, but the truth is that 'Richard III did not want Edward V to be legitimate because he did not want him to be king.'

The only people I see who still believe in the Titulus Regius are ricardians and Gregory-esque fans of the Wars of the Roses (the intersection is big though). But you're right about the dismissal of Elizabeth Woodville, which is unjust in my opinion. On one hand, there are the ricardian and/or classist narratives that depict her as a grasping, greedy and cruel woman, on the other hand, she's dismissed in favour of Edward IV's relationship with Jane/Elizabeth Shore, a relationship greatly augmented by a posthumous (and mainly Elizabethan) romanticisation of Jane Shore. Derek Neal also pointed it out:

The better-known writers seem to have felt compelled to comment on Edward's "fleshlye wantonnesse", treating it indulgently, with careful disapproval. But no one contrasted this with the queen's behaviour. In fact, the kind of praise we might expect a queen to receive was instead assigned to the king's most famous mistress [...] At any rate, it is hard to resist the feeling that there is something wrong here. Illicit mistresses are not supposed to get better press than faithful wives [his words], especially when the wife in question has borne heirs to the throne and is the grandmother of the monarch employing the author of the text. Even More's most generous comments on Elizabeth Woodville do not compensate for this disparity. One wonders whether Gairdner's unsupported statement, that the queen was "scarcely regarded with more respect by the nobility than the courtesans by whom she was dishonoured", might contain some truth.

I don't know if Neal is passing a moral judgement on their situation or commenting on what was commonly seen (a wife usually getting more praised than a mistress)—perhaps he's doing both—but the fact is that there were factors that went beyond Elizabeth Woodville, regarding Jane Shore's character, that made Jane the more popular of the two. She was a 'city wife', a citizen and daughter of London, who had been subjected to a forced marriage before capturing the heart of a king, and who had become friendless later in life (themes that inspired great pity in Elizabethan audiences). Thanks to Richard III's treatment, she was also an excellent subject to discuss state cruelty and the suffering the common people were subjected to thanks to the excesses of justice.

It is interesting that although Elizabeth Woodville was historically dismissed because of her low origins, she was not so much 'low' as to inspire the same sympathy that Jane/Elizabeth Shore was able to inspire in popular ballads and writings. It's as though Elizabeth Woodville occupies a weird limbo, and also in regards to her suffering. Although Richard III made her suffer, she wasn't subjected to the same personal cruelty that Shore was (especially as her penitent walk was variously described as some sort of eroticised vulnerability and proper feminity). Additionally, she didn't end up her days as friendless as More claimed Jane to be at the end of her life, for Elizabeth Woodville had been at last vindicated by Richard III's defeat via her own friends and by the ascension of Elizabeth's daughter.

In the end, I think Elizabeth's dismissal is linked to those factors: historical intersection of classism and misogyny, Richard III's cult-like popularity, and even Jane Shore's own brief popularity in the 16th century too, though not so much nowadays.

#ask #anon #elizabeth woodville #jane shore

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phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 11 months

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super confusing dream

somehow we were people from modern times but in this like little wood log type 'town' that was all in apadock in the middle of nowhere by a road we never saw vehicles on

Frequently, tornados would happen

there was also a threat that occasionally someone woud get possessed by evil and start killing people, often with weapons

you still had to go about shopping and daily stuff and just avoid them

most stores were a mix of big box stores on the inside despite that made no sense form the exterior, or like a junkyard wtyle

so here's the weird part, I was horrifially stressed to learn I was in charge of a bunch of cats and small animals (got them sorted no probs), but also a giant fishtank with too many fish???

a lot of my dreams come back to trying and failing to care for fish, never had them irl lmao

so they were okay but I was trying to get them better accommodation, went to a big box place that happened to have fish tanks

that didnt work, they started to bloat and float in the new tank

I was also dodging people who were possessed (you could tell bc for some reason a deep purple almost digital looking smear would circle their head and shoulders in random patterns, there was always two people at the same time

one of these, of all people, was Fuse from Apex LEgends, and also Bloodhound from the same game. They had guns.

then, when I sorted my fish, I came across someone's bedroom half full of water and hidden fish, and also a doen snakes

was able to hose the little fuckers out and scare them off and started finding fish throughout the room and putting them in jars of water to protect them

the owner of the room was hstile when I came across her like why are you here? and Im just explaining, your fish need help. Stay here and hide from the Infecte, I'm going to Big W log place to get an actual tank for them...

AND THEN of all things, a tornado starts, its HUGE and then someone yells another one is starting, and then a third. The third looked like it was full of red dust, and they all combined but not fully. It was like they joined halfway down, but the three top parts remained separate and the sky was growling with thunder

so there was a LOT going on in this dream

the tornado did not damage the town, it was like in the paddock across the road

what the fuck was this about?

I had another half remembered dream where t started with me saving an animal that was being harmed and then I and my team had to evade scifi level buildings that were intent on killing us, and time kept skipping back and forth and we died but returned, and also sometimes ended up in the buildings and were seeing different futuristic apartments and robots and were used as security but they wanted my (animal like a bird? then hamster? and eventually became an infant????)

so confusing

#dream #animals

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raymond-reddington-ruminations · 11 months

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okay, reviewing two episodes in one night. Not easy!

Thoughts on 10.15, no spoilers.

Lol, what an episode!

I think this might be my favorite episode of this.. I don't know what to call it. A 'lull' period? Whatever we're to call the period between Wujing dying and the catalyst for the end.

It kept me guessing. And it was one of the few rare occurrences where I'm guessing right along with the task force, instead of just watching what they're doing and being a little bit ahead of them because we get Reddington's side as well, giving us insight. This time whenever the task force voiced a question about the nature of their work, it was only seconds after I started asking the question myself.

The core question I had was if this was a throwback to what Blacklist episodes were like prior to Elizabeth's death, with multi-part puzzles that would connect together eventually, or was this more like the current run of episodes.

And it turned out to be a hybrid of some sort, which certainly made for a weird and interesting viewing experience.

There is still some forward thrust on an overall plot line but that's very subtle. There's that whole Senator situation, but maybe the more continuing plot is truly a character plot. I've been saying from the very beginning of the season, Red is in a very weird headspace. This episode put just a little bit of extremely direct focus on that, in several different ways.

And Glory hallelujah, one of those ways was with a conversation with Dembe.

Thank god. That is such a balm to my soul. I have been needing and wanting and pleading for Dembe to try to connect with Red all season. In my opinion it was a starting conversation, not a progressive or a finalizing one. They just finally got into approaching real conversation, and the real topic. I'm Hoping there will be much more of this to come. It's desperately needed. I believe he lied to Dembe at the end of that conversation. He lied to himself.

As to what I think is going on with Red, here goes.

He never healed from Elizabeth's death. And nor should he. He doesn't know what to make of his life without her. And nor should he. It seems to me that Red has shown a pattern throughout this series, of not being able to understand his own soul. When it's torn up, he'll deny it. He'll hide it. And then when he can't hide it he runs away. In the past it always resolved itself. Elizabeth wasn't really dead, and then Kaplan wasn't really dead either, so he got to let himself off the hook somewhat.

This time he can't. He couldn't hide from his pain when Elizabeth died in his arms, so he ran away and distracted himself with the sisters. Then he came back and had the distraction of finding out what really happened. Now there's no urgent task for him, and the sisters are gone. Or at least one of them is, he's hoping to get the other one back. Because of course he is, he needs distraction. I don't think it will work, the opening scene of this episode gives me hope that it will not work at all.

I'm profoundly hoping I'm reading the situation right, and I'm profoundly hoping that Weecha herself can also read this situation. And that's why she stayed away. She isn't his path forward, he has to find that for himself.

#the blacklist #raymond reddington #10.15

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fannish-karmiya · 3 years

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Wei Wuxian’s Position in the Jiang Household

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

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

A Companion to Upper Class Children

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 24, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

[...]

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

[...]

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

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

[...]

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

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

(Chapter 71, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 71, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 13, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

(Chapter 16, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

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

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

[...]

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

[...]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[...]

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

(Chapter 90, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

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

Jiang Cheng instantly stood up.

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

[...]

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

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

(Chapter 18, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 14, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

(Chapter 52, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 59, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 56, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

[...]

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

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

[...]

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

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

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

(Chapter 58, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

A Lower Status Family Member

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 86, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(MDZS Donghua, Episode 3, Guodong Subs)

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

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

(Chapter 13, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

(Chapter 14, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

And so, Wei WuXian was punished again.

(Chapter 14, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

(Chapter 18, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

[...]

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

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

[...]

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that his back is heavily scarred from it:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 87, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

[...]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 49, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 49, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 69, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

[...]

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

[...]

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

[...]

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

(Chapters 69-70, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

(Chapter 70, Exiled Rebels translation)

Never a Brother

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 70, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

[...]

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

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

(Chapter 70, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

Wei WuXian remembered. So it was this time!

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

[...]

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

[...]

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

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

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

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

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

[...]

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

He then began to converse with Jin ZiXuan.

(Chapter 49, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

Not our nephew, mine.

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

[...]

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

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

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

Cast Aside

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[...]

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

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

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

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

[...]

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

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

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

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

[...]

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

All was silent within Glamor Hall.

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

[...]

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

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

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

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

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

[...]

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

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

[...]

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

Lan WangJi spoke coldly, “Was he wrong?”

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

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

(Chapter 72, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

[...]

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

[...]

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

[...]

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

[...]

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

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

[...]

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

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

[...]

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

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

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

(Chapter 73, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

(Chapter 73, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

In Conclusion

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

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

#mdzs #mdzs meta #modao zushi

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chainofclovers · 3 years

Text

Ted Lasso 2x10 thoughts

GOOD GOD.

“No Weddings and a Funeral” is like being hungover but also coming out of a hangover. Having a terrible cold but also feeling better and appreciating every breath that comes through your nose. Embarking on an organizational project and accidentally falling into a photo album and crying about the pictures and organizing almost nothing tangible but making a few things more clear in your brain.

So much of this episode is about the AWFUL POINTLESSNESS OF DECORUM. How loud is too loud when you’re drinking stolen wine and shrieking about sex in a church right before your father’s funeral? How should you feel--thirty years later, as an accommodating, anger-averse person--about having been too angry to attend the funeral for your father who killed himself? What expression should you make when you show up really late to a different funeral? Why must you wear uncomfortable shoes just because someone died? What happens in your mind between standing up to give a eulogy for a man you’re still angry with and choosing to Rick Roll your mom and everyone else as an act of complicated love, humiliatingly incomplete until someone else starts to sing? Should you worry about your therapist seeing your normally tidy flat in a full-on state of depression mess? Is it okay to be offended that your boyfriend is so uncomfortable about death that he can’t stop making morbid jokes? Should you care about other people caring that you’re crunching an apple in church or squealing with joy to be reunited with a friend you’ve not seen in awhile? Are you obligated to explain your behavior if your kid doesn’t understand how you could stay with someone unfaithful? How far behind the counter should you sink when your [undefined relationship person]’s mother has just let you know she can see your dick through your underwear? Is a funeral reception an okay place to find a hookup? Is a funeral reception a decent spot for a break-up? Is a funeral reception a good time for a love confession when you know the person you’re confessing to is happy with someone else? And who do you make eye contact with when you can’t look directly at the person asking you if you’re okay when there’s so, so much about you she doesn’t know yet? Even if--for this tiny little moment within a vast swath of many okay and not-okay moments--you’re honest when you tell her that you are?

I fucking adored this episode because it answers all these questions very simply: Show up. Show up for yourself. Show up for your friends. Try not to harm yourself. Try not to harm your friends.

I love that this episode is about the messiness of adulthood and the things we bring with us from childhood and that it takes place partially in Rebecca’s childhood bedroom, and in Ted’s childhood memories. Dwelling in those places (whether physically or mentally) isn’t an automatic recipe for regression, but it does get everyone closer to the things that made them who they are, to the unresolved and half-buried parts of them that still make them tick today.

Forever obsessed with every single detail about Rebecca’s childhood bedroom.

Forever obsessed with Deborah’s decision to Rick Roll herself every single morning of her life.

Forever obsessed with Rebecca’s decision to Rick Roll her father’s funeral as a way to not have to make up a single word about her father and to do something very vulnerable and kind for herself and her mother and everyone.

Forever obsessed with Ted’s decision to Rick Roll Rebecca Rick Rolling her father’s funeral.

Forever obsessed with an entire found family backing it up.

I love that it is Isaac’s leadership that ensures every single member of the team attends the service for Paul.

I am very, very interested in Jamie’s love confession to Keeley because I do think it will spark some reflection in Keeley but I do not think it’ll go the cliched love triangle route.

Each scene with Rebecca and Sam struck (for me, a human being sharing a subjective perspective on the internet) the tender-awkward-beautiful-stressful chord I was hoping it would. I think it’s wonderful that Sam is honest with Rebecca about how difficult it is to keep their relationship a secret, and I love that Rebecca has a million mostly-unarticulated reasons for why she’d much prefer the secret to continue. I like that Sassy, Keeley, and Nora respond to the revelation as friends; they might be tempering their judgments in part because they’ve all gathered to bury Rebecca’s dad, but I don’t think their reactions would’ve been that different even on a happier occasion.

While there are a million and one different reasons why a continued relationship between Rebecca and Sam could cause serious ethical problems, I really love that when people share big news on this show, the people who care about them generally react by trying to see why the person is doing what they’re doing. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t also hold each other accountable, but in my book it’s OK that Keeley’s first reaction was to feel happy that her friend is having some fun.

Also everyone has been making weird judgment calls this season, and this episode felt like a moment of real breakthroughs in terms of people telling the truth about things that happened to them and leaving themselves open to honest responses from others.

September 13, 1991. It’s so tenderly, beautifully, overwhelmingly meaningful that there’s still so much Ted and Rebecca don’t know about the things they have in common in these parallel lives they’re leading. The scene between Sarah Niles and Jason Sudeikis is so beautifully acted, and so is the scene between Hannah Waddingham and Harriet Walter. The way they intertwine to communicate that Ted and Rebecca basically lost the ability to trust their fathers simultaneously, from an ocean away? In the hands of lesser storytellers, it would feel too perfect a mirroring, but here it feels heartbreakingly imperfect. All the things they still don’t know. All the questions they try to ask each other. All the things they don’t dare ask yet. And then the storytellers are holding a candle up to all of it and letting the audience bask in the glow of this connection even if Ted and Rebecca can’t fully understand it yet.

I am so proud that Rebecca and Deborah were able to embark on the beginnings of a conversation about the ways Deborah and Paul’s relationship might have resembled or not resembled Rebecca and Rupert’s. It feels possible that they could get to a point where Rebecca truly internalizes her mother’s pride that she broke a cycle by leaving Rupert, and could maybe even understand why her mother made the choices she made. I love that in the final scene, they’re still relying on their old mother-daughter conversational patterns—the frustrations, the snippy shorthand, the passive-aggression. Mothers and daughters!

I am also proud that Ted—albeit via a joke about Sharon charging him for the house call—indicates that he understands the value of Sharon’s work. He’s changed a lot, all in realistic ways for someone who loves learning and really does want to meet people where they are and appreciate them. I’m very moved that instead of putting himself in a real harmful situation by showing up to the funeral on time at any cost, he did what he needed to do to take care of himself and accept care from someone else. And then Sharon’s suggestion that he think about things he loved about his father? And the way he’s able to share a positive memory of Rebecca’s own father at a time when she really needed it? Gosh.

Awkward, undecorous transition from 1991 to present-day incoming...but SASSY! She’s just, like, a whirling dervish of loyal friendship and not giving a fuck and penis size discussions and being casually, delightfully cruel to Rupert, who so deserves it. Rebecca was going on a real face journey when Sassy goes off with Ted at the end, and I’m sort of *eyes emoji* about all of that, but I continue to feel like Sassy is the most imperfectly wonderful friend-from-the-past kind of person and I love everything she and Nora get to do in this episode.

Keeley saying “That baby is whack” might be my favorite line in the episode? Maybe the whole show? Not really but really.

FUCK YOU, RUPERT. Bex and Diane, y’all are fine. And I truly feel for Nate...whatever scheme he’s getting suckered into. Whatever insecurity Rupert is preying on. I want Nate to go to therapy, too.

I feel like it was an unpopular opinion at the time, but I loved Rebecca’s 2x1 revelation about vulnerability and fear of getting hurt and needing to let someone love her. Sassy doesn’t always word things in the most nuanced way, but I think there’s a real possibility that she did ask Rebecca to really consider what it means to feel either safe or unsafe with a person but to know that in either circumstance, that person could end up causing her pain. Standing in that closet with Sam, managing to make it clear that she’s not asking for a break because she knows he will hurt her but because she has to figure out how to be with a wonderful person who could cause her pain...the growth, man. Makes me emotional.

I emerged from this episode feeling, of course, stunned by all the amazing parallels and revelations and beautiful acting and Rick Rolls and just, everything. I also emerged feeling sad/raw/tender because messiness and decorum and growth and coping mechanisms and death and dramatic irony and not knowing things about people and not knowing what you don’t know...it’s a sad, raw, tender place to be.

To quote a guy who got a whole sitcom (lol) named after him, life is real hard.

#ted lasso #ted lasso s2 spoilers #meta by me #ted lasso 2x10 #a lesbian watches ted lasso #lotta feelings in here y'all #cw suicide

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burhouse · 2 years

Text

Rest Easy

Warnings: None

When a prying question upsets Bec, Ishmael is there for him.

----

“I’m not just a kid, I’m no different from you lot, I’m not sure what fucking changed all of a sudden but you can’t just treat me like a child, I’m not a child!”

Tears pricked at his eyes, an ocean of frustration leaking from his face.

Becquerel swiped his sleeve against his eyes quickly and promptly turned on his heel without another word, the slam of a door echoing behind him.

The air hung heavy and quiet as a small group looked amongst one another, struggling for what to say, to do.

The air was sour on Wilbur’s tongue.

“That was… it could’ve gone better.”

It could’ve gone better was an understatement.

It was hard to be gentle about such an awkward question. Are you as old as you say you are? It was even harder when those in that room were awkward in social situations to begin with. How old are you really?

Ishmael tapped his fingers gently against his arm, this didn’t pool right for him. Like brine in the ocean it churned in his gut and something made him feel sick.

This was in part his own fault. There was an unspoken sort of understanding between the two- himself and Becquerel. They connected in ways others didn’t.

Even so, he couldn’t let suspicions lie dormant. He knew that among the others, he was one of the oldest. They were all the same, deep down and somewhere. Many shared similar names, backgrounds and beginnings, friends and foes. Others were wildly different but it was the looks in their eyes, their voice, their passions that were their tells.

They were all very similar, and yet, different enough that they were practically their own people. From different places, times...most of them had arrived at around the same time, same era. Blue had said he was 24 when he’d first died, meaning those from his world were about the same.

Ishmael had been older, he knew that. He’d practically raised a kid on his own, from when he was a young teen to being able to be on his own. His dear friend- brother, Gunk.

Becquerel had been assumed to be like the others, he’d had the story to tell and scars like all the rest.

But something was different… off, and Ishmael had been worried he was far younger than the front he put on, which, at least in his mind, was an important detail the others should know of, or be on the lookout for.

He hadn’t expected Becquerel to practically be cornered.

It was his fault, the songbird had been cornered and it flew off, what else would’ve happened?

“I’ll check on him, alright? Try to- try to talk to him. Let’s not do this again, like this, aye?”

Ishmael shuffled from his spot, glancing back to meet the other eyes on him, before twisting the knob of the door and quietly following after where Becquerel had gone.

The air of the cool night washed over him, sending Ishmael back to his days where he’d follow the ocean’s current under the moonlight. The only thing missing was the salty sea breeze.

The back deck was small- he’d come to learn you couldn’t expect much from an apartment of this size, at least that’s what he’d seen, but the night was all but silent.

Crickets chirped quietly, and the soft sounds of metal rattling against metal drew Ishmael’s gaze to the edge of the wooden deck.

Becquerel sat quietly, a ring of fine stretched leather and metal rings tapped quietly against the palm of his hand. The jingles followed the thud of his tambourine, joining the songs of the crickets. Ishmael found that the songs of land were something he’d never grow tired of.

No words were spoken as Ishmael found a seat just beside Becquerel, leaving a space between the two- the gentle thuds of the instrument hadn’t faltered, nor had the other looked up.

Silence was allowed to breathe and steep for a few moments as Ishmael looked to the sky. The stars twinkled between clouds and the ocean sailor noted they weren’t quite the same to what he was used to seeing.

Far more dim, some followed different patterns, but stars were stars and everyone was connected beneath them.

“You...you have a brother right, you’ve mentioned him, with the dome. Tommy right?”

Gentle thuds paused for a moment, and picked up again, and the sailor had taken that as confirmation.

“I have a brother too. Gunk. Silly name- but we all had silly names, really. Named ourselves. We... I was much younger… he was hardly older than a tot, but he had already had the drive and love for the sea flowing through him, and it was when he was no more than a baker’s dozen worth of moons that we decided to set sail on our own.”

Ishmael glanced over at Becquerel for only a moment. It was hard not to see his brother then.

“I taught him everything, though I learned plenty from him. It was...not long ago, that we’d finally parted ways. We’d sailed together for years. He’d never gotten to be a boy, I hadn’t really either. It’s how things were. You learned to sail the endless oceans, learned to live either at sea or in the crowded towns, what was left of land. I tried though, tried to let him have what moments he could to fool about, be a kid. I had to protect him. As strong as he was, as independent as he was...he couldn’t always be that way. Sometimes...he just needed someone to be there.”

A new sound joined the gentle thud and the metal chimes, the soft tapping of fingers against wood as Ishmael joined in the music of the night, the calming sounds, continuing after another moment.

“Me...you, Gunk, Tommy... children didn’t get to exist, for any of us, aye? No time to fool about, to be boys, kids... it’s not the case that you’re not one though, are you? It’s the case of not being able to be one. Never having the chance.”

Becquerel looked up at the sky, letting the leather tap the palm of his hand, letting a tear trail down his cheek, not daring to disturb the time he kept with the tambourine. Tommy… he’d tried so hard to let him…

“He’s 14. Tommy is 14.”

“That’s….Gunk was 13. He’s well older now...and you?”

The soft drums of the tambourine slowed and trickled to a gentle stop, Becquerel bringing a shaking hand to his face, gently wiping the tears from his cheeks.

“I’m 17, I’m no kid, Ishmael.”

“Gunk was hardly older than you really, when we parted. You...remind me of him. Never really got to be a boy, independent, strong willed.”

Ishmael turned to face Becquerel, holding his hand out to the other as he crossed a leg over the other.

“You’re right, you’re not a kid, never got to be one. You shouldn’t be treated as one, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need another person around, and I’ll be here, aye? Like you are for Tommy, like I was for my Gunk.”

Tears fell freely down Becquerel’s face, and in one gentle swoop the gap was closed as Ishmael pulled Becquerel to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around the other, his chin resting atop a mop of ashy brown hair.

Soft hiccups were muffled by Ishmael’s shirt as Becquerel softly cried into him.

“My song bird, little finch, you’re not alone and you’re strong, but I’ll be right here, right here for you.”

“P… promise?”

“I swear, a sailors swear, can’t break it, little finch.”

Becquerel was no kid, no child. He never could’ve been, never had the chance to, he was practically grown.

But he could be, in some sense, if only it was to only open up for a moment. If only for a moment, he could be scared and sad and cry and break. He’d let himself be a kid, if only for a moment.

Ishmael held him tight, he swore he would as he did Gunk. He swore Becquerel wouldn’t be alone, his finch.

Gunk had been right once, he hadn’t the heart to retire, to give up.

Becquerel wasn’t just a kid. He had the scars and stories to tell otherwise.

He was his brother, a son. He’d let his songbird rest his wings.

#wilbur soot #raftbur #rustbur #bursonas #burhouse

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alottanothing · 3 years

Text

Kismet

Summary: Evie prepares a meal for the stranger who helped her and finds herself more than a little smitten.

Previous Part: Hope

Word Count: 5707

Warnings: Language

Tag List: @ramilicious, @txmel, @edteche2, @gloriousdarkangelsworld, @diasimar, @xmxisxforxmaybe (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: Okay, I almost didn't get this up today because I was up most of the night sewing kilts for Highland Weekend at the Ohio Renfiare. BUT I stayed awake and did my final read-through, so this should be mostly okay. I skipped a couple steps in my editing to get this up on time but I think, for the most part, it's okay. If you see a grammatical booboo, just ignore it, I'll get in here sometime this week with my other two editing steps and find it, then repost this. Capisce? Okay, cool...now. I hope you enjoy it, I also hope my trying to phonetically write Mer's accent doesn't get too annoying. I know you really shouldn't write accents, but I think it helps add to the characters. And I do try to keep it to a minimum so it doesn't get annoying. Thanks for the love the first part received last month! I know waiting so long between updates is a bit sad after weekly updates with LtR. But life is busy right now and once a month is all can guarantee.

Jonny did not know how to keep a house.

In fact, Jonny did not know how to do much more than drink, argue, and get into fights. He was nothing but a thorn in Evie's side—never mind how much she needed him for a place to lay her head. A necessary thorn was still a thorn. Given the opportunity, she would rip it out as soon as she could and dress the wound promptly so she was finally able to heal better. She stayed only because she had no other choice. And every time Jonny raised his voice or stumbled in reeking of alcohol and red-faced, Evie could hear her best friend's warning in her head. Cynthia had begged her not to go with him, but she hadn't listened.

Oh, how she wished she had.

Luckily, Jonny wasn't the kind of man who liked to stay home which eased the ache of the ever-present thorn in her side. Whatever money he did have, he spent out on the town—the town being New Orleans. Like Evie, Jonny had been born and raised in the Big Apple, the noise and the chaos was part of him. As such, he hadn't taken to the quiet suburban life Bridge City offered as well as Evie. She liked the quiet, easy flow of the sleepy town. Her housemate loathed his new home. He thrived in disarray, thus, he found a group of like-minded young men to run amok with in the neighboring metropolis every chance he got.

If Jonny had been any sort of amicable company, the notion of him leaving most every night to wreak havoc several miles away would have been upsetting. Thankfully, his penchant for city life meant a good portion of Evie's days were spent out from under Jonny's tyranny. The hours he was gone were blissful and calm, and she relished in them. Whether she was creating art or tending to chores around the old house, Evie didn't care as long as Jonny wasn't there—never mind how lonely the routine often was.

Evie had never gotten the chance to meet Jonny's maternal grandmother, though she suspected she would have liked to. Unlike her grandson, she seemed like any other sweet elderly woman judging by the furnishings she'd left behind. There were dozens of lace doilies, and table cloths with soft patterns, decretive china even, but it was the plethora of photos the old woman kept that told Evie she'd carried a kindly heart. All of them were kept in pristine albums or intricate frames; they were the only barbles that seemed to have been cleaned or dusted with any regularity which spoke of how much she must have treasured them. Evie loved those tiny trinkets and black and white memories. It didn't matter that they were not her legacy of family heirlooms to keep, she adored them anyway.

She couldn't count the number of times she'd replaced a broken frame that had fallen victim to Jonny's drunken belligerence or scrubbed tirelessly at a stain he'd left on the patterned tablecloths. It proved to be a hefty undertaking, but dwelling in the fantasies of someone else's history let her forget the grief of her own. She was willing to sacrifice a little elbow grease if it allowed her mind to roam away from the shadow that never really seemed to vanish.

For all the effort Evie put in on the interior, the cottage held little in the way of curb appeal. The porch was sunken in the middle, the paint was peeling off in chunks, and the yard was mostly weeds. Worst, however, was the screen door which squeaked so loudly, every dog in the neighborhood howled in protest every time someone crossed the threshold. The outside needed love that Evie simply didn't have the energy to lend. Despite the grit, however, the foundations were sturdy enough that she didn't worry. The cottage proved to be stronger than she looked—a feat Evie felt she had in common with the old house. And while it was a swell enough place to rest her head, it never truly felt like home. Home was somewhere safe, and as long as Jonny lived under that roof she wasn't safe. Not really.

Fortunately, Jonny wasn't home when Evie returned after her run-in with Mr. Shelton—Mer, she corrected herself with a hint of a giddy smile. Without her housemate there, her evening promised to be hopeful instead of lonely, and she wasted no time in figuring out what to make for dinner.

With her red pumps replaced by her worn-in slippers and her blue checkered apron secured around her waist, she set a pot of water to boil and dialed the phone conveniently located in the kitchen. Every evening she called her sister-in-law to pass the time and keep up on unimportant gossip back home; this time, however, Evie was excited to finally have some good news to share.

"You got the job, didn't you?" Cynthia Clarke asked on the other end, sounding hopeful. "I knew you would."

Evie grinned, still amazed how the sound of Cyn's voice always seemed to settle some of the ever-present anxieties buzzing in her head. She missed her friend so much.

"I didn't even say yes."

"Did you or did you not get the job?" Cynthia pressed.

"I did," Evie confirmed and her smile grew hearing her friend cheer on the other end of the phone.

"See! I knew it." Cynthia said. "My gut feeling is always right."

Evie rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly.

"I think I'm gonna like working there too, so that's good." she mused as she stood at the stove, eyeing the pot of water she’d set to boil.

"That's so great, Ev. I'm so proud of you." Cynthia paused before continuing. "So, what are you up to tonight? Avoiding Jonny?"

"Sorta," Evie nodded even though she knew her friend wouldn't see.

As she continued to watch her cooking pot of water she told Cynthia all about her trouble with Jonny's car and the man who'd been so kind to help her.

"Wait. You invited the stranger over who fixed the car?" Concern was heavy in Cyn's voice, and Evie half expected a lecture to follow.

Despite knowing each other since childhood, Cynthia had taken on the role of her protector since Evie's family was no longer in the picture. The war had claimed Evie's father, and brother—although they'd never found her brother, Jimmy after he disappeared behind enemy lines. Evie never lost hope that Jimmy would one day be found, Cynthia though, was certain her husband was never coming home. After Cyn’s brother, Charlie, died at Normandy Cynthia had difficulty believing anyone was going to make it home. As for Evie's mother, losing a child and her husband to the war was too much for her tender heart and she passed not long after. Ever since, Cynthia was overcome with the need to act as Evie's guardian.

"He wouldn't let me pay him," Evie explained. "So I'm making him dinner—it seemed like the least I could do."

"I suppose…." Cynthia didn't sound convinced, if anything she sounded slightly irritated there was no quick way for her to argue the logic. "Just be careful, Evie. You don't know this guy—he could be another Jonny Doyle. Or worse."

"He's not," Evie said quickly. She wanted nothing more than to tell her friend all about how benevolent Mer was, but she decided against it. Cynthia would only argue that point somehow.

A long pause followed, and Evie wedged the receiver between her ear and shoulder so her hands were free to work on the meal.

"So, what are you cooking?" This time, there was a hint of jest in her friend's tone when she spoke.

The art of cooking was one creative outlet that Evie struggled with, second only to music. In her youth, her mother did all the cooking—it was a passion of her mother's—thus Evie had done little more than watch in wonder as her mother whipped up meal after meal effortlessly. Breakfast she the meal she was probably best at, apple pies too, but anything beyond that Evie required a step by step guide to prepare. And even then she lacked confidence. Thankfully, when she'd fled south, she remembered to grab her mother's cookbook. It was a cumbersome tome with yellowed pages and notes scribbled into the margins: a piece of art itself cultivated over years of collecting recipe after recipe starting the moment her mother stepped off the boat that brought her from Ireland. And like a witch and her spellbook, Evie depended on it.

"Spaghetti with garlic bread," Evie admitted feeling as though the meal lacked a certain something.

Pasta was something she knew held a low degree of difficulty when it came to preparing. Surely she couldn't mess up pasta.

“Mmm, I can almost smell it,” Cynthia said.

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously,” Cyn replied. “You’re mom’s spaghetti recipe was always my favorite.”

A doleful smile pulled at the corners of her lips, thinking back to her mother happily cooking in the kitchen as she sang a Celtic tune. It seemed strange that those moments would never again play out, instead they’d become bittersweet memories Evie could only relive in her mind.

“Mine too,” she murmured, suddenly missing her family.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and Evie’s mind roamed the dregs of her grief before blinking back into reality and the hope of something happy to come.

“I need to go, Cyn,” Evie told her friend with a sigh. “I don’t want to burn the garlic bread.”

Cynthia chuckled and said her goodbye, only after making Evie promise to call her in the morning to let her know how everything went.

With her second hand restored after hanging up, Evelyn reached for her mother’s cookbook to give the steps another look over to ensure she had done everything and added every herb and ingredient she was supposed to. She’d followed everything perfectly, even factoring in the little notes scribbled into the margins left there by her mother—those she smiled at fondly and traced the fading ink with her fingers. Everything was as it should be. Even so, without a taste, Evie knew the sauce she had prepared would never be as savory as what her mother made so effortlessly.

“You were the artist in the kitchen, Ma,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll stick to paper and canvas.”

For the smallest of a moment Evie thought she would hear the warmth of her mother’s laugh, and when it never came she sighed again, trying not to dwell on the shadows behind her. What mattered was the light ahead.

Despite her lack of confidence, the meal came together without any severe hiccups. The noodles were not overcooked, the sauce was a complementing mix of savory and sweet (though, as she had guessed after a tiny taste, was not nearly as good as her mother's) and the garlic bread was nicely golden. A small tingle of pride manifested in the form of a surprised, but satisfied, smile as she surveyed the dinner before her.

“Not bad, Ev,” she told herself, knowing her mother would have been delighted.

With the cooking done, Evie threw a glance over her shoulder to the clock mounted on the wall, triggering a surge of anxiety to bubble in her gut. Stranger, perhaps, was the amount of excitement coursing through her veins. It was as though all of her happiness was riding on whether or not she would see Merriell again. None of it made sense; the man was little more than a stranger. The coupling of nerves and delight was not a feeling that put her ill at ease, however. She trusted it. And it was that peculiar sensation that seemed to fuel her movements.

With a few minutes to spare, Evie wandered into the small bathroom to freshen up. She made sure her hair was still pinned the way she liked—up and pretty. Her make-up was holding up nicely despite the heat; all she needed was a fresh layer of lipstick to complete the illusion of a put-together young lady. It wasn't often she wore a dress with heels and a face of cosmetics—she liked to when the opportunity arose, but she was just as comfortable in a pair of old overalls and smudges of charcoal on her face.

Just as she wiggled back into her red pumps—discarding her worn-in house slippers with a couple of calculated kicks—a knock on the door signaled Merriells arrival. Immediately a grin curled onto Evie's lips and her heart began to pound an anxious-excited rhythm. A blush threatened to color her cheeks to give away the torrid muscle beating in her chest—her ever yearning heart already making leaps and bounds for a man she had known for mere hours.

Don't be ridiculous—she warned herself taking in a deep breath to curb the eagerness coursing in her veins. Untying her apron, she tossed it along with her discarded slippers and went to answer the door, taking one last deep breath to steady the fervor in her heart.

Merriell had changed and showered. The sweet bouquet of his shampoo coupled invitingly with the musk of the aftershave he'd chosen, making it difficult for Evie to keep from soaking in the scent he carried. His curls were still somewhat damp—too much moisture in the air to keep the heat from drying them on his way over—though they fought to spring back into their previous fluff. The grease-covered, jeans he'd been wearing had been replaced by a nice pair of tan slacks, and the buttoned shirt he wore was a soft shade of green that made his eyes glitter a deeper emerald as he stood under the glow of the porch light. All Evie could do was stare—utterly beguiled—every rational thought in her head lost to her.

Mer smirked, amused by her ogling. "Hiya."

Evie blinked, coming back to reality, suddenly feeling foolish, and uttered a nervous "hi" before swinging her arm to invite him inside.

"Come in."

Merriell's smile grew as he crossed the threshold, inhaling deeply. "Mm, smells tasty in here."

He gently forced a bottle into her hands as he passed on his way to investigate the savory smells in the kitchen.

"I wasn' sho what ya was makin', but I figured wine usually goes with anythin'."

"Oh, thank you." Evie glanced at the label, unable to read the French words printed there. "You didn't have to bring anything."

"I know," Mer shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets. "I just wanted to make a good impression."

There was something almost boyish when he smiled then—cheeks coloring pink ever-so-slightly—that made him even more of a mystery. One Evie was eager to solve.

"Well," she said placing the bottle on the kitchen table. "It should go perfectly with dinner."

His expression lost a hint of its boyish charm as it grew into a look of delight.

"Make yourself at home," Evie gestured vaguely between the table and the sofa in the living room as she ventured to the cabinet where the stemware was kept.

She placed two crystal glasses on the table along with the wine and retraced her steps to fetch some of the nicer china Jonny's grandmother had kept. Mer watched her, his gaze, gentle and attentive, and a little bit yearning as she methodically sat the table.

"Need help with anythin'?" he asked finally.

"Nope," She replied with a smile. "Everything is almost ready."

The hearty red sauce on the stove was beginning to boil again which told her it was hot enough to serve, and Evie eyed the pot with scrutiny, praying silently her attempt at cooking would go over well.

"I'll pour us a glass then," Mer announced.

"Great, lemme…" Evie spun to fish for the corkscrew in the drawer of misfit utensils, finding it, only to turn to see Merriell holding his lighter against the neck of the dark bottle just below the cork.

Before she could ask, a loud pop sounded, causing her to jump as the cork went flying.

"Oh my goodness!" she laughed, a little surprised, a little impressed. "Where did you learn to do that?"

Mer shrugged, a sly expression on his features, and left her question unanswered.

"How much ya want?" He held the open bottle over the top of her glass, waiting patiently.

"Enough," she said, tossing him a coy smirk without really meaning to.

He bit his lower lip as he smiled, chuckling under his breath when he poured a generous glass of red wine for each of them. She thanked him as he took his seat and grabbed his plate to dish out their dinner.

"How much pasta would you like?"

Mer's face lit with charm and mischief as he turned to face her.

"Enough," he grinned.

The expression on his face was playful, his smirk devious and amused by his own response and his cheekiness settled warmly in Evie's stomach. Not only did she revel in it, but she also played into his whimsy and scooped as much spaghetti into his plate as she could before coupling it with the savory sauce and a slice of bread.

Despite being only strangers, the atmosphere that bloomed that evening was not marked by any hint of bashfulness, instead, it was relaxed and amiable. Warmth that Evie had longed to dwell in again—that unrefutable kindness she'd lost with the passing of her family—flowed uninhibited from the man sitting adjacent to her. His conversation was cautious but still jovial and genuine. It was the first time since running south Evie could recall what life felt like without grief and fear weighing upon her. Merriell was a stranger, but she felt safe with him. Jonny had never made her feel that way.

"So," Evie spoke as she twirled the last bit of pasta with her fork. "What is it you do, Mr. Shelton?"

Mer cast her a look of disapproval—no doubt in retaliation to being addressed so formally—before his features softened back into a neutral, yet somehow still amused side smirk.

"Nothin' too excitin'," he stated vaguely. "The odd jobs are what I like ta do the most—like fixin' ya car this aftah noon."

Without really meaning to, Evie leaned forward, resting her elbow and chin on the table, utterly enchanted by the beautiful stranger at her table.

"You like to get your hands dirty, huh? Fixing things?" she was entirely too intrigued with the thought of what he could do with his hands.

He shrugged, suddenly modest after a foray of playfully arrogant smirks and glances. It made him abruptly twice as charming.

"I've always had a knack for it, I guess." Merriell finished the food on his plate with the help of his remaining garlic bread to mop up the sauce still left on his dish.

"What about you?" he asked after chewing. "Ya workin' anywhere?"

All at once, a proud smile lit up Evie's face. After all the excitement of seeing Merriell again, she'd almost forgotten about her good news.

"Actually, I just got a job today—the general store downtown, Southern Comfort."

Mer's face lit up too, "Birdie's place?"

"Yeah, you know it?" Of course, he knows it! She thought, Bridge City's population was slightly less than the number of people who lived in a single district back home in New York. Everyone knew everyone else.

"Sho do—I was practically raised there…ole Birdie's like a second mothah to me."

"Really?" Evie found a great deal of comfort in that notion. In fact the more she thought on it, the more she realized how similar the old woman and Mer were; they radiated the same magnetism and sincerity.

"Mmhm," he nodded, his eyes focusing elsewhere as the veil of memories danced across the contours of his features. "My mama used ta work there…once upon a time…"

"Does she still work there?"

Merriell's face lost a hit of its levity and he swallowed as though to fight off the onslaught of sudden emotion threatening to cast a shadow onto his expression.

"No…" he said softly. "She—uh—she died, about a year ago."

Shit!

Abruptly, sick knots twisted into Evie's stomach, feeling callous, but understanding of the quiet misery he hid under layers of charm and arrogance.

"Merriell, I'm…I'm sorry—I didn't mean…"

He met her eyes and cast her a quick smile—doleful, but enough to ease the awful feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"It's okay," he reassured her, reaching for his glass of wine and taking a good gulp before changing the subject. "Birdie's great—you'll enjoy workin' for her."

"I hope so…" Evie said softly, still too embarrassed to meet Mer's glance longer than a second or two.

For the first time all night the atmosphere they shared felt cumbersome—perhaps more melancholy—than she'd wanted it to get. Evie sat, worrying her bottom lip, her fingers toying with a loose thread in the table cloth as she stole quick glances through her lashes in Mer's direction.

He was nursing the alcohol in his glass with the same sadness she'd caught plaguing him as he sat at the bar hours ago. And while Evie was eager to know if his grief stemmed only from the loss of his mother, or perhaps more, Merriell was still too much of a stranger to warrant such questions. It didn't matter how easy it was to be near him, she had not earned the right to know his narrative.

A soft sigh broke past her lips as she fought to find a way to properly allay the gloom that was quickly ruining an otherwise wonderful evening. It wasn't until her eyes found their desert sitting on the counter, waiting to save the day, that she perked up.

"Got any room for apple pie?" Evie asked with a hesitant smile. She hoped he wanted to stay long enough to have a slice, though she would not have blamed him for wanting to leave.

Immediately Mer perked up too, the shadows on his features retreating with the promise of something sweet.

"I was countin' on it—seems as how you promised a slice earlier," he said with a boyish grin.

When she stood, he did too, helping clear away their dinner plates, and letting them soak in the sink to be washed later. Evie cut them each a slice of apple pie and the delight on Mer’s face made her smile too seeing him lick his lips as his grin continued to grow. Catching that flash of his tongue was like a bolt of hot lightning striking her without warning; a blush rose so quickly on her cheeks Evie had to look away to keep the blunder a secret. Thankfully, the pie was more than enough to hold Merriell’s attention away from her.

“Mmmm… Almost looks too good to eat,” he said ogling the desert in front of him.

When Evie chanced a look his way, the expression on his face caused her to chuckle, “‘oughta be, I made one for my pa every year for his birthday since I was nine. It’s probably the only thing I have any confidence in making in the kitchen.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Mer quipped as he loaded his fork with as much pie as he could.

The moment he took a bite, his brows creased, and eyes closed as he chewed painfully slow. Those few seconds were like agony. Evie’s heart was pounding in her chest with so much anticipation she feared she might faint as she watched him sample the only thing she could actually make that was worth a damn.

“Fuck me, if that ain’t the best apple pie I’ve evah had the pleasure of tasting.”

A somewhat nervous, but relieved chuckle sounded in the back of Evelyn’s throat as she watched Merriell shovel a larger bite of pie into his mouth.

“Mmm… Yep. God damn delightful.”

“Stop,” Evie said sheepishly, suddenly afraid he was overselling his reaction to keep from hurting her feelings.

“No,” he wiped his mouth and leaned across the table to meet her gaze with a sincere expression that stole away all the doubt writhing in her stomach.

“I mean it. If I wasn’t so full of pasta, I’d eat that whole damn pie right now.”

“Well,” Evie grinned softly, trying not to let her blush color her cheeks too obviously. “Thank you. And you’re welcome to take the rest of it when you go.”

Excitement took form on his face with a smirk that was sweet but roguish all at once—a sort of debonair charm that amplified his magnetism—as if his bright eyes dark curls and razor-sharp jaw did not make him alluring enough already. Again she had to look away knowing the pink in her cheeks would be too strong to combat.

“Imma have ta take ya up on that offah. An’ I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout you every time I cut me a slice.”

That blush was unstoppable; her heart was suddenly so smitten, it felt as though butterflies were fluttering merrily in her stomach. She felt weightless with warmth and hope swelling in her bosom, fearing any slight breeze would carry her off. It was ridiculous how at ease Evie felt sitting there eating pie with a complete stranger. The conversation had been easy all night; even when it had delved into less savory topics he still made her feel comfortable. Evelyn had forgotten what it was like to be in the company of a man who wasn’t easy to anger, who was genuine and kind and wanted only to live in the moment.

For a time the whimsy of the atmosphere faded as the warmth in her heart ached, suddenly missing her brother James and Cynthia's brother Charlie. Both of them were good men, kind and genuine—like Merriell—but they had been swallowed by the rages of war. Brave young men were lost forever, while a man like Jonny Doyle was still alive How was that fair?

No matter how pleasant her thoughts could be, they always fell back to the grief that plagued her. She sighed, deeply, pushing those intrusive memories back into the depths of her mind so she could find joy once more in the moment with a kind stranger.

When Merrill finished his plate he made a beeline for the sink full of soaking dishes.

“Oh, no,” she said jumping to her feet. “I can do those.”

Merriell, however, shook his head. “Uh-uh, you did the cookin’, I can do the cleanin’.”

When Evie tried to argue, Mer simply shook his head, his grin amused but determined as he kept scrubbing the dirty dishes.

“Let me help at least,” she suggested. “I’ll dry and put them away.”

Before he could protest, she snatched the freshly rinsed dish from his hand and began wiping away the droplets of water clinging to the porcelain surface, throwing him a smug smirk that made him chuckle.

“Alright,“ he smirked.

She watched him for a moment not really paying attention to her task as he scrubbed the old plates clean, overcome with a blissful vision of peaceful domesticity. It made her stomach fill to the brim with whimsy and her heart was fluttering again; had this stranger bewitched her already? Or did what she feel bubbling lightly in her gut like a seltzer stem from an end to her loneliness—even if it was only for a few hours? Evelyn didn’t know. Nevertheless, she was intrigued with a profound feeling and she wanted to dwell in it for as long as she could.

Occasionally as he would hand a freshly washed dish her way, his calloused fingertips would brush against her skin, igniting a spark she didn’t know how to react to. It was more than an amicable tingle racing from the tips of her fingers right to her heart. And each time they touched, Merriell would cast her a gentle smile that held nothing more than his inherent charm and magnetism. She wondered if he felt it too, or if her need for companionship was playing a dirty trick on her.

When the dishes were all back in their usual places—the night drawing to a close—Evelyn realized she was not ready to say farewell to her Beautiful Stranger. She longed to stay up all night just chatting with him, she did not care about what, Evelyn only wanted to stay encompassed a while longer in the blissful warmth he brought into her life. Once he was gone, all she would be able to do was stay up and ponder the significance of those little touches and the sparks they brought.

Thankfully, Merriell lingered on the old rickety porch, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his plate of leftover pie, seeming to stall their inevitable departure.

“Well,” he said with a grin. “Thank you for invitin’ a stranger ovah for dinna.” He paused, glancing at the leftover pie in his hand. “Can’t recall ever having a better plate of pasta, an’ nothin’ evah gonna beat this pie.”

Evie quickly looked at her feet to hide another blush.

“It was the least I could do,” she told him before looking back to meet his eyes. “You have no idea how much of a savior you were this afternoon…”

A glint of concern flashed in his eye, his brows beginning to crease as his unspoken question lingered between them.

She thought about telling him—telling him how Jonny was nothing more than a throne in her side, and how much she cherished Merriells company—but Mer was still a stranger. It wasn’t right to unload so much onto someone she’d only known for a few hours.

Before Mer could offer any reply, the sound of screeching tires stole all their focus as an old wagon pulled along the curb—narrowly missing a collision with the mailbox. The rowdy passengers were laughing and shouting loud enough even before the door opened to let Jonny stumble out. He staggered on drunk feet and screamed a handful of profanities to his buddies in the car which made them all roar with laughter.

It was only after the wagon full of hooligans pulled away that Jonny began to stagger towards the house, and it was exactly then that Evie’s fluttering heart became consumed with panic.

She and Mer watched him cross the yard, unseen, both frozen: Evie in fear and Merriell in confusion. Jonny’s intoxication level inhibited him from taking notice of them until he was at the base of the steps leading onto the porch. Immediately, his eyes narrowed and he frowned.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Jonny, this is Mr. Merriell Shelton,” Evie said quickly, willing her voice not to shake.

The Doyle’s were not known for their hospitality, nor were they known to trust most people. Especially strangers.

“He helped me this afternoon with a bit of trouble I was having,” she explained vaguely, hoping to thwart any more suspicion. “I made him dinner to say thank you—he’s just about to leave.”

Jonny eyed Merriell, seizing him up as best he could through drunken lenses. Mer stood his ground, eyeing him back with a subtle intensity that never so much as cracked under Jonny’s scrutiny.

Finally, being the better man, Mer held out his hand in a friendly manner, “nice ta meet ya.”

Jonny cast a prolonged glare at Merriell's open hand, his brows furrowed and part of his lip hiked up in a sort of snarl. Instead of returning the kind gesture, Jonny made a show of spitting at his feet before tossing his heavy leer at Evelyn.

"Evie, do not invite any more strangers into my house. I don't care if they are dying." He shoved past them both, purposely bumping Mer's shoulder (most likely in hopes to start something) muttering as he went: "I don't trust any of these filthy southerners."

Shock sent Evie's jaw slack; this time the redness in her cheeks was a symptom of embarrassment instead of infatuation. She should have known Jonny would say something rude and uncouth. Without another thought, she grabbed Mer by his sleeve and pulled him across the lawn until they stood next to his truck parked along the curb.

"I am so sorry about him," she said, crossing her arms and glaring at Jonny's house, ashamed and angry.

Mer shrugged as he placed his partially eaten pie in the passenger seat through the open window before fixing his hands in his front pockets.

"Ya boyfriend's a bit of an asshole."

"He is not my boyfriend," Evie corrected vehemently. "I don't think he knows that though. I'm just staying here until I can figure some things out."

Merriell was quiet a moment, nodding silently. It seemed as though he was taking his time processing the whole situation. There was compassion on his face and behind his eyes, but it was guarded somehow. Evie caught it though and she was grateful when he didn't ask the questions plainly forming in his mind.

"Well," he said finally, his tone light as one corner of his mouth quirked into a grin. "Since he ain't ya othah half, I feel more inclined ta leave ya with this…"

Gently, Merriell caressed her upper arm as he leaned forward to plant a tender kiss on her cheek. He let his lips linger slightly longer than was common for such an act, that all at once wove a new hopefulness into her heart.

"Dinna was swell," he added as he pulled away, his smile somehow more charming than it had been all night. "Hope I see ya again, Evie."

"Me too," she murmured.

Evie watched as he got in his truck to leave, her hand held to the cheek he'd graced with his kiss. And when he drove away, it took everything inside of her to keep from running after him.

#Beautiful Stranger Series #Merriell Shelton x Original Character #Merriell Shelton #Snafu Shelton #HBO War #The Pacific #The Pacific Fanfiction #Rami Malek Fanfiction

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honoredbastard · 3 years

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I COME BACK WITH THOUGHTS/THEORIES ON ITADORI AND HIS RELATIONS- I THINK.

anyways, so i'll just point this out: i'm not good at speaking my thoughts in an organized manner. i absolutely suck at it, i speak on how my brain brings up the thoughts so i might ramble, get over my head in a thought, etc. i can't control it so i apologize in advance for the jumpiness of the texts. i will spell a lot of things wrong and not everything will be correct, as i read translations and on a manga site. don't worry it's not illegal, i believe.

MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD.

i apologize for my absence! last week or two weeks ago the tower to my computer completely broke and will not turn on. i tried to repair it and follow my fathers instructions but nothing worked. even cleaned off the fan and went through countless nights readjusting things. it's not my cords either so to help me out my father is working extra shifts to get me a new pc. so in the meantime i'll do small posts like these but not full writing/head canons until i have a computer tower lol. a family member was kind enough to allow me to have their phone while we work throughout this issue.

now onto the actual topic:

kenjaku and itadori's relationship. ( family wise ).

for context in the most recent chapter, 160 "colony" kamo shows up in sasaki's home and talks to her about the culling game and a barrier. but that's not the point, the point is as he's guiding her to the barrier inside her "dream" at the end he says "oh right. i almost forgot to tell you. thank you for getting along with my son." and then she is awakened inside the barrier, in her pajamas beside iguchi. when sasaki and iguchi look at the barrier and gather themselves they bring up kamo.

sasaki asked iguchi if he mentioned his son and he says no. this leaves sasaki in a state of confusion when itadori flashes in her mind. she says his name aloud like she finally connected the dots. now. why am i bringing up this whole kenjaku thanking sasaki for being his "son"'s friend. it throws me off because why didn't he thank iguchi?

did he not think iguchi meant their friendship? because sasaki was the one uninjured and still counted itadori as a friend? does iguchi not consider itadori as a friend anymore?

because we haven't seen these two at all since the incident. that raised many questions in me. as well "how can itadori be related to kamo?" and itadori is related to choso.

because kamo's technique is explained ( vaguely. we are aware he can create barriers, take over bodies, and has incredible cursed tools. chapter 134. this is also where choso makes his connection ( i believe. ) to itadori yuji as his brother. but because we saw this with todo many thought itadori just had another unconsious technique that allows the person who is hit create false memories and believe of a completely made up relationship with itadori without his knowledge. but alas, i was wrong. ) and we're given more hints shown than told ( imo ) i tried my best to make sense out of the situation and what he said. i think my conclusions are pretty solid, so continuing on.

we're given very little history on itadori, his past, and family. at the start of the manga we know that itadori's only family he knows is his grandfather and that he is ill in the hospital. at the very very beginning we learn that itadori is your average cute, fluffy, laid back but strong and goofy protagonist. in smaller words: itadori is kirby but even cuter and dumber.

my first impressions of him is a pineapple. if you're confused to this saying: it's calling a person prickly on the outside but sweet on the inside. and this is true, itadori's grandfather seems prickly and cold on the outside but he genuinely cares for itadori.

he raised itadori for all we know and did that with his all in assumption. but this ends up backfiring onto itadori, because he cares so much for his grandson - he ends up leaving a " curse " on yuji.

help people. save them.

itadori takes this to heart as his grandfathers speech is his last one. when he looks over to his grandfather the man is dead and now yuji is left alone. then the following events occur.

at this point in time i assumed itadori was an orphan ( he technically is if we're connecting the dots. his parents has not been shown, he doesn't speak of them, they aren't in the picture. we can conclude either they disowned itadori or died before he could make complete memories of them. )

but when we are shown in chapter 143 itadori's parents we see this "woman" jin ( yuji's father ) and his grandfather talking about has the same scar pattern. this scar pattern is either stitching ( assuming that is how kamo keeps the top of the opened skull from coming off. this is also how kamo revealed his cursed technique / body of sorts ( the brain, assuming that is kenjaku in his cursed technique and not the body / puppet he is controlling " getou suguru " ) to gojou. )

this is the only way i find kamo being able to assign itadori as his son. why is that you might be asking this dumbass here.

we do not have the full story, exact date, location, and full context of the memory/dream itadori is having. this cannot be fake either because kamo would than have no reason to call itadori his son. or is there? anyways.

take a leap of faith with me. imagine that before itadori is born ( he seems no more than a few weeks or days old in this memory. hence why i am thinking my conclusion is pretty solid in theory. but yknow gege, there might be something different. ) anywhooo.

TW. D3ATH/IMPLYING ANTI LIFE ATTEMPT

kamo had to have taken over yuji's mothers body after an accident OR after she gave birth to yuji. his grandfather is interrupted by her before he can finish his sentence but it seems to be leading to the conclusion that either kaori ( yuji's mother ) died while giving birth to yuji or kaori could not conceive and tried to take her own life or cause an accident that would take her life. ( i read a fan translation for this part but im pretty sure i also read the official translation today too and it added up to the same. )

i believe in the first idea, but since kamo's cursed technique wasn't explained in detail i don't know the conditions of his body technique. does the original host of the body have to be dead? can he regenerate body limbs ( i highly doubt. getou lost an arm during his fight with yuta. overconfident dick. reminding me of an ex ANTWAYS. i forgive him for being overconfident smooch. he learned. OFF TOPIC but continuing on i promise.

this is being continued from the cut off point. i'm so upset so it'll just be summarized. i can't believe this shit lol i took three hours just to finish it for it to literally cut off the bottom half.

continuing on in a sadge mood. kamo must not have the complete ability to take over a body. after all getou took his only arm he had as he was dying and choked his own body to his full ability. getou was willing to die ( possibly, you never know he could be alive if he killed his own body. moving on. ) just to have the chance to save his friend from being swallowed by a damn box.

so there has to be a chance that kamo cannot fully take over the previous persons complete consious and memory of their body. if getou still had his other arm after losing the fight to yuta, he could've choked kamo with both arms. in theory kamo wouldn't be able to control the right arm and die to the previous host choking him to death.

so why wouldn't the other hosts do it? after all, kamo did say it was his first time experiencing such a thing. assuming kamo has lived throughout many bodies in his 150+ lifespan none of the previous hosts could take control of their body.

i believe getou was completely influenced by gojou and his six eyes. there is no way gojou would even try to speak out to his friend unless he had an inkling or saw getou still in there. helpless and without the ability to save himself from the cage he's in.

being used and puppeteered in his own body by an external force. laughing in the world he could not. putting getou into a constant misery and defeat that he couldn't escape his hell. the one he tried so hard to fight and get out of. even if it was the wrong path.

gojou was the last person to witness getou dying. he had to watch getou bleed out after their conversation because he couldn't bring himself to kill his friend. the one he spent his whole jujutsu student life with. so for gojou to say such a thing to getou despite all that he did had to break getou out of his misery and give him that small sliver of hope that he could do something. of course he failed, but i doubt that's going to be the end of that.

the only way i see kamo being related to yuji is if he took over kaori's body before the pregnancy. assuming that when kamo takes over a body he becomes one with said body and is that person for however long he lives in said body. my only thing is, can he take over a persons body whilst they are alive? i would go more in depth like i did the last time but i am extremely upset about my work being erased so that's the end of this part.

thank you for reading! i have one more thing for you though.

the last time we see sukuna in a manga page after the shibuya incident is where he is on his throne and in his domain. this is after yuji is stabbed by yuta and is presumed "dead" at the time. he seems to be interested in yuta and i can think of 2-3 things. I would love to hear your theories too so don't be afraid to barge into my dms like the koolaid man.

A - sukuna is interested in Yuta because of his ability to use the reverse healing technique ( only a few sorcerers know this. sukuna being the first. shoko being the second one to be told that she has this power and then gojou. ) because of this he sees potential in yuta as well or has added this boy into his plans. after all, there is very few that can make sukuna make an expression that isn't an RBF. aka megumi and possibly gojou. I was looking at the page of him stabbing yuji and noticed we only see the entry point of where the blade enters. it's smaller because some got chunked off so its a possibility yuta used this to his advantage when "killing" yuji and instead hit an artery that could kill him but quickly healed him afterwards. or just his heart. the ideas.

B. Rika, Yuta is able to completely control Rika as shown. Even though he claims he is on the weak side, these two combined seem like an unstoppable force. He may be interested in Rika as she is a curse that has been put on someone that can fully control it. Not many people is shown to be able to control their curse. As we haven't met many.

this was enti and that's the last of my post! thank you for reading and it was a fun one. even though i had to restore this shit. anyways, i'd love you to add or fix up my ideas and tell me your thoughts and opinions! Thanks a bunch!

^ this is for pure humor

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