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marihoneywk · 10 months

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Duty and Flames

Ser Criston Cole x targaryen original female character

Summary:

Daenys Velaryon, oldest daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and, allegedly, Ser Laenor Velaryon.

Hair white like moon, eyes bright like the sun. Many say that she’s the copy of her mother in her younger years, with an ethereal beauty and a kind but wild soul.

After six years in Dragonstone, Rhaenyra and her family have to travel back to Kings Landing to secure Lucerys position as heir to Driftmark. What happens when the chaotic members of the Targaryen family reunite again and a particular Lord Commander of the Kingsguard takes a more dark interest in the sweet Daenys?

Chapter 1 - Of memories and changes

The roads of Kings Landing were just as Daenys remembered it. Dirty, with excrements laying around as if they were flowers. The smell was so strong that she had to close the small window in the carriage.

“How is this piece of shit the kings home?” Lucerys asked not remembering very well the details of the city that saw him came into this world.

“Here is awful but in the keep its all clean and smells like freshly washed sheets. That’s what matters to the council in the end.” During the time that she lived in Red Keep, not once did Daenys witnessed the council caring about the small folk or even their living conditions. They were just numbers who only were relevant when someone forgot to pay their taxes or when the crime rates were too high and it started to get hard to put so many men in the dungeons.

The carriage lurched and Daenys had to brace Jace’s arms in order to prevent her into falling on the floor or on top of Luke, who was in front of her.

“Careful sister, you almost hit my jaw with your elbow.” Jacaerys laughed and helped his sister sit properly on her seat.

Daenys had hit her knee on the wood of the seat and made a small noise of pain thar her brothers didn’t notice. An obvious bruise in the knee would appear in a day.

“Look, we’re here! I can see the gates already!” Luke pointed and the three siblings looked together through the small gaps of the carriage and saw the red gates of the castle.

The gates opened and just after that, the two carriages that transported Daenys and her family, started to slow down and then stoped in the yard.

Rhaenyra came out of her carriage, with Daemon and Joffrey behind her, and with the nursemaids that held the babes, Aegon and Viserys, following. The door to Daenys’s carriage open and she, Jacaerys and Lucerys got up and stepped into the ground as well.

As all the family members got out, they noticed an unusual but relevant detail. The lack of a proper reception to the heir to the Iron Throne.

Daenys heard Daemon laugh, expect it wasn’t in a funny way and was more in a “been in here for one minute and already want to strangle the Hightowers” way.

The only person who was outside to greet them was Lord Caswell. “Welcome back princess. I’m sorry for the small reception but a lot is going on in the castle at moment, so we couldn’t find time to prepare.”

Rhaenyra gave a yellow smile to Lord Caswell, pretending that she believed in his words and that the humiliating welcoming to the heir to the throne was not made on purpose.

Daenys and Jace exchanged glances, communicating their feelings about this weird greeting with their eyes.

“Please follow me your grace, and the maids will show you, your lord husband and your children the way to your respective chambers.” The family followed Lord Caswell and as soon as they entered the walls of the Red Keep they notice how everything had changed.

The sigils of House Targaryen were no longer a statement in the the walls, and had been replaced with the symbol of the Seven Pointed Star. A clear change made by Alicent Hightower, a faithful women who didn’t understand the ways of the Targaryen culture.

“I would say its nice to be home but I scarcely recognize it.” Rhaenyra confessed and Daenys couldn´t agree more with her mother.

Being the eldest child, she was the one with more memories of the castle, but the current decoration of the Red Keep did hardly anything to relieve her childhood. The few minutes that she had spent inside the castle since her family’s arrival, had not brough the sweet sentiment of being home that she thought would feel.

“Children please go set yourselves in your chambers, while me and Daemon go visit the King.” Rhaenyra asked, as she also murmured to the nursemaids to bring little Viserys and Aegon with them.

Daenys nodded, obeying her mother’s request and took Joffrey’s hand in hers and began walking to their old rooms, with her other two brothers just behind her.

“Almost looks like we’re in the Sept.” Lucerys was still looking around, observing all the changes made in the castle. “If Alicent could, she would kill all the dragons and made us ride seven pointed stars.” He laughed and Jacaerys joined him.

“Shhh! Don´t say that, someone might hear you! The Hand and the Queen have ears and eyes everywhere.” Daenys could almost punch her brothers for speaking so freely about Alicent while they were still in the corridors of the castle. “We’re not in Dragonstone anymore. It´s been six years since we were here, and we don’t know the people who surround us anymore. Don’t forget that the main reason for our travel is to secure Lucerys’s position as heir to Driftmark, so please be careful brothers.” Her siblings laughs came to a stop once she started lecturing them, and the regret in Lucerys’s eyes was visible as he understood the danger of joking around in the keep.

Daenys knew how unpleasant these weeks in Kings Landing would be. Their family didn´t view them as equals, with the word “bastards” always in the point of their tongues. She also knew how difficult the relationship between Alicent and her mother was. Even if Rhaenyra had never spoken directly with her daughter about it, Daenys could read between the lines and notice the awkward stares and conversations the two women shared, since she started to understood the ways of the royalty.

The Velaryon children had finally reached their chambers, and Daenys gave Joffrey to one of his nursemaids and entered alone in her childhood bedroom.

Thankfully, the changes made by Alicent had not reached her room and everything was the same. The bed in the middle of the space with a beige dossel that went from the ceiling to the floor, the dark brown dressing table with a mirror on the left that reflected the image of her bed, and the fireplace that brought memories of her and Jacaerys reading together in front of it in the coldest days.

However, the favourite thing about her room was the window that showed a large view of Blackwater Bay and that would light the entire space from the early morning till very last second of the sunset. Daenys used to seat on a chair near the window and watched the sea move itself, observing the ships departing and arriving.

A knock on the door interrupted her small moment of nostalgia and she went to open it just to reveal Luke and Jace.

“Me and Luke and are going to training yard. Do you want to come with us?” The oldest of the boys asked.

“Are you going to train already? We only just arrived.” Daenys responded, not wanting her brothers to tired themselves so soon, knowing that they were probably sore from the ride in their dragons, even if wasn’t that long of a distance.

“No, we’re just going there to see if the mark made by Luke on the wall it’s still there, and also because we want see our old weapons. “ He stated exchanging excited glances with Lucerys. “Please come with us and don’t stay in your room all day hiding from Aegon.” Jacearys grabbed his sister’s hand and pushed her with them through the corridor.

“I’m not hiding from Aegon! In fact, his presence didn´t even crossed my mind! Not even for a second.” She argued.

Daenys and Aegon used to be very close. Practically best friends. They pulled many pranks together and were like two little nightmares always ready to create chaos in the castle. They used to stole cakes from the kitchen and throw pillows at the knights from the balconies of the keep. This lasted until the day Aegon discovered wine, and since them, his passion for playing and spending time with Daenys was replaced with more dirty hobbies, such as getting himself drunk and chasing around women. Daenys got tired of begging for his attention and learned how to have fun by herself, since she also didn’t like the games that Luke and Jace played, and Helaena was too different for her to understand. She tried befriending Aemond but he was a loner and denied pretty much all her invites to play.

“If you say so.” Jace shrug his shoulders.

Daenys tried to forget the matter, focusing only on walking to the training yard, but now that her brother had put Aegon in her thoughts, she quickly became anxious and wanted to turn around to go hide in her room like Jace had suggest.

“It looks smaller that I remember.” Luke said as soon as they arrived to the yard and Jace argued that it actually looked the exact same. Daenys didn’t really had opinion on the matter, since she rarely spent time there when they lived in keep. She appreciated reading and cross stitching with her Speta instead, being more fan of calm activities.

As soon as three siblings set foot in the training yard, Daenys could feel the looks of others in her skin, and she notice that Lucerys felt the same. Six years had passed since Rhaenyra’s children were last seen by members of the court, but those were not looks of curiosity. She could recognize some of ladies that eyed them, remembering how much they liked gossiping. In a matter of hours, their opinions about the looks of the three siblings would be completely spread through the castle, and she knew it wouldn’t be nice and kind ones.

“Everyone’s starring at us.” Luke said with sad eyes.“No one would question me being heir to Driftmark if I looked more like Ser Laenor Velaryon than Ser Harwin Strong.”

Daenys immediately turned to her younger brother and put her hands in his shoulders in a comforting way. “Please ignore their stares and their words Luke. You are the legitimate heir to Driftmark. Even if you don´t share physical similarities with Ser Laenor, you are the boy he raised and loved. No one is more suited for this than you. “She smiled at him, ruffled his hair lovingly and then planted a kiss on his forehead, trying to make the boy feel better.

Lucerys was a boy of four and ten, but he never denied his sister’s affection, like the boys of his age did. He had a very strong connection with his sister and mother, so he adored when Daenys comforted him, or randomly just hugged him. He knew the role of women in their society, so he wanted to lean into his sister’s love before it was to late and she had to move away from their family to go live with some lord.

The cheers of a crowd attracted their attention and the three of them turned to see what occurred in the training yard.

A long blonde hair was moving in the air, as the person who the hair belonged to moved effortlessly from the blows of a knight. Immediately not only Daenys, but also Lucerys and Jacaerys, recognize the men who trained. Their uncle Aemond, and Ser Criston Cole.

Aemond was very different from the child he once was, now being almost tall as Daemon and with evident muscles from all his hard training. The eye patch was also a very prominent aspect in his new form, and Daenys couldn’t stop herself from looking nervously at Luke.

Aemond was really impressive. She couldn’t remember seeing someone so young and with that much skill. The little and shy boy from her childhood was now a man who did not fear the sharpness of a sword, and fired back with smart but fast blows.

However, her eyes also stopped to look at Ser Criston’s figure. He appeared older, with some visible wrinkles near his eyes as he made some faces during the fight, but at same time, he still looked exactly like the man Daenys used to see daily around the keep six years ago. Now that she was a woman of age and had more maturity, she couldn’t deny the beauty in Ser Criston Cole, even with all that sweat. His dornish features looked more appealing than ever, especially as the sun shine directly above him.

Ser Criston was also old enough to be her father, and had too close of a relationship with Alicent, so she quickly wiped these thoughts of her head.

When Daenys turned her focus on the fight again, it had already come to an end, with Aemond winning and showing clearly to everyone in the training yard his brilliant abilities as a fighter.

“Nephews, have you come to train? Or are you going to hide under your older sister’s skirts?” Aemond’s voice interrupted the conversations in the yard and Daenys locked eyes with him as soon as he mentioned her brothers. Aemond took his time and observed his niece carefully, noticing her also evident changes. She looked more tall as well, and her blonde hair was longer and wavier, touching her lower back almost like a cloak. Her body was also curvier, with the bump of her bottom and the swell of her breasts visible, even beneath the conservative dress that Daenys wore due to being more comfortable for dragon rides.

As Aemond had focus his attention on Daenys, so had Ser Criston, even if it was in a more discreet way. Last time he saw her she was a child of one and ten, and now in front of him he had a whole woman.

Ser Criston made a sound with his throat as he took in her similarities with Rhaenyra, the woman he once had been in love, and that rejected and humiliated him.

Daenys Velaryon shared absolutely nothing with her suppose father, Ser Laenor Velaryon, stealing all the traits from her mother. The hair, the cheeks, the lips and the eyes. Ser Criston Cole swore he was seeing young Rhaenyra in front of him once again. The only clear difference between her and Rhaenyra, was her height, and without realizing Ser Criston suddenly started to imagine the longs legs that were hidden under Daenys’s black dress.

Were her legs pale and thin like her mother’s? How would her eyes look like under the light of a few candles in her chambers? Did she smelled like lemon cake just like Rhaenyra used to? Or did she preferred the scent of jasmines and other flowers?

What sounds would she make as he kissed her neck? Would she touch his back with her nails just like Rhaenyra in that one time they spent together?

Ser Criston couldn’t believe in his own thoughts. He had been a good knight in those six years, loyal to the Queen like he was her dog. He wouldn’t let Rhaenyra ruin him again. Even if it wasn’t her, it was her bloodline that stood in front of him. With a sweet little face that could made the most religious man sin. He hated her already.

Rhaenyra’s family had only just arrived but Criston couldn´t wait for their departure as the simple presence of Daenys in the training yard was making him relive some memories he didn’t want to remember, and was awaking a side of him that he only wished would stay hidden.

Next chapter

Note

I want to read all of your opinions about this chapter and if you find any grammatical mistakes please comment so I can write it correctly. English is not my first language so I’m a little nervous writing this 🥲

Tomorrow I’m going to work on the second chapter and try to publish it as soon as I can.

Also, if you read the summary that I posted almost a month ago, yes I did change the title of the story.

Mari xx

#ser criston cole #criston cole x reader #criston cole x you #criston cole x original female character #criston cole x oc #house of the dragon

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researchgate · 7 months

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Although I don't live in Israel, as a Persian Jew born and living in France I really appreciate your reblogs recently, it seems most of radblr is choosing to gaslight many Jewish users that NOBODY is attacking Jewish people and ONLY criticising Israeli government, while I and many other Jewish people I know are facing extreme antisemitism on the daily that only gets worse. I've had coworkers «joke» in various different ways basically that I should have my will written up for when Palestine reclaims their land because all «colonisers» [Israeli = Jewish as usual] deserve to be killed -- which is the mildest example. Seeing claims that no antisemitism is happening as a result of the pro-Hamas state of the internet and media is so ignorant and shows that most of these people are not Jewish nor do they know any Jewish people. Being Jewish is stressful on person and online and yet most responses are like «You people have only yourselves to blame» or calling us Zionists if we dare call out antisemitism, it's disgusting and as usual feels incredibly isolating. It makes me very relieved to have another Jewish woman on here like you who is so well-spoken! <3

Hi! Thank you so much for this, I'm so glad I could give you some relief.

I follow less than 40 blogs so I don't see most of the hate, but I surely believe this is the sentiment in general given how it is outside radblr, and what friends of mine told me happens on radblr itself. It's terrible and seeing some notes on posts is just... Despairing. It's clear none of them ever gave an actual damn about the conflict until they could celebrate the rape of Jewish women, and the slaughter of innocent Jewish civilians.

Antisemitism has always been a problem for diaspora Jews, regardless of the country, and it is undeniable it's gotten worse ever since Hamas has invaded Israel with the sole purpose of killing jews. People online are maliciously happy and proud of that, and as much as we like to call them "keyboard warriors" these are real people who not only espouse their opinions online, but live these opinions in real life too, thus posing a direct, active danger to Jews as possible offenders at worst, and at best, they'd be bystanders who film/encourage/watch silently attacks against Jews in real life.

These people never liked the idea of Jews existing, that much is clear. And when it comes to radblr, it seems they forget some important feminists were Jewish themselves. Instead they go full Judith Butler and call Hamas a liberation/resistance movement just because the latter is in their name (Harakat al muqawamah al Islamiyah — Islamic Resistance Movement), whereas they know to call out things like liberal feminism nit being feminism. It's honestly irritating at the very least.

The media and reaction to it is another interesting (and by interesting I mean very much predictable) case: when it's pto Hamas, no one bats an eye, people share al Jazeera, Middle East Eye, etc. articles without viewing them with even a little bit of critical thinking. But when a news source is clearly anti Hamas (not even pro Israel!), it's suddenly pro Israel and Zionist and the sentiment is terribly close to "Jews control the media." I'm not saying there weren't reports that were meant for just shock value (that's literally how news media work), but it was still very interesting to see people go back to antisemitic tropes. Predictable, too.

In the UK, security on Jewish schools has been strengthened in fear of violence against kids, but people would blame "Israel's treatment of the Palestinians" for that, which is full on victim blaming and antisemitism: they're jewish; Jewish = Israel; Israel = bad → jewish = bad like Israel → Israel deserves punishment → Jews deserve punishment.

The fact that the solution for Jews is to walk outside without anything that can mark them as Jewish is not too different to the idea that "she shouldn't have dressed in provocative outfit," which again, puts the blame and responsibility on the victim.

The fact that calling out any form of antisemitism is seen as Zionism is, however, not just the fault of antisemites in my opinion, because Token Jews allow themselves to ignore antisemitic notions within the movements which tokenize them, and allow people to think only Zionist (non-token) Jews care about antisemitism. It's vile, and just wrong. It's especially wring since Zionism isn't even what they think it is, they just think all Jews who protest or call out antisemitism is like that absolute scum Ben-Gvir (who is actually partially responsible for the situation right now, but I digress). It's so disheartening to see and even moreso to experience, of that I'm certain. The ""joke"" about the will for instance, is just absolutely vile and disgusting, although it accidentally acknowledges the fact Hamas wants total annihilation of Jews and not just the "Zionist Entity" as the 2017 revision of their charter suggests.

I'm sorry if I didn't address all of your points, your ask is very loaded, as is expected given the circumstances, and me being unfortunately not very well-dpoken means I probably couldn't treat it with all the due eloquence it deserves. For what it's worth, though, I did try my best.

Being Jewish, especially in the diaspora, is always stressful, but the current situation sure has made it worse ten-fold. Again, I'm glad I could offer some relief for at least the online experience. Myaskbox and DMs are always open if you want to share anything, or just need an ear for your frustrations. Given my situation, I cannot imagine yours but I can sympathize and offer my utmost patience and efforts to understand.

Thank you again for this meaningful ask, here's hoping for somewhat better, somewhat safer days to come as soon as possible. My thoughts are also with the diaspora Jews, at these truly trying times. 💙

Am Yisrael Chai, and we will outlive them.

#it's the first time i used am yisrael chai lol #because honestly yes. we are alive and we will live. theykeep trying to eradicate us but we live. and we will continue to do so #until and including the last jew.#ipc #swords of iron #anonymous #asks #love you anon 💙#nf #but also #radblr #kinda

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hopex2 · 9 months

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Barbie

Art by Uzuriartonline

General Info:

Release Date: July 21, 2023

Director: Greta Gerwig

Distributed By: Warner Bros, Mattel

Budget: $145 Million

Official Rating:

8/10

Hopeless’ Rating:

8.9/10

Hopeful’s Rating:

9.5/10

Comments:

“Pretty Empowering movie for tweens.”- Hopful

“A good sad-hearted movie”- Hopeless

“DON’T LET ANYONE UNDER 9 SEE THIS!”- Both

Description:

Barbie and Ken are having the time of their lives in the colorful and seemingly perfect world of Barbie Land. However, when they get a chance to go to the real world, they soon discover the joys and perils of living among humans.

Our Version:

Barbie and Ken are self-aware(Well, Barbie at least), They set out for the true world,setting for there true purposes. Barbie tries to find out their true purpose and finds out what it feels like to grow up as a women. Ken attempts to find their true purpose outside of Barbie, using toxic masculinity.

Why Watch:

Cheeky, Extensional, Hilarious

Why Actually:

Social Issues, Relatable, Extensional

Age Group Aim:

9-10

Actual Age Group:

12+

Overall Rating:

Script:

Hopeless: 9/10 Hopeful: 9.75/10

Costume:

Hopeless: 10/10 Hopeful: 10/10

Props:

Hopeless: 10/10 Hopeful: 10/10

Background:

Hopeless: 9.2/10 Hopeful: 9/10

Characters:

Hopeless: 9.5/10 Hopeful: 9.5/10

Comedy:

Hopeless: 8/10 Hopeful: 9.2/10

Plot:

Hopeless: 8.5/10 Hopeful: 9.7/10

Movie Plot Thoughts?

I think its a good movie to watch if your becoming of age and/or becoming a young adult. Though it’s about Barbie, the meaning behind this movie shows you the horrors of being a women and how the wrong crowd can affect young boys. Anyone under the age of 12 shouldn’t watch this.- Hopeless

So I really liked the movie, but the components can be a bit confusing at times. They talk about a lot of different things, how when things change they become scary, along with talking about women struggles and how being in the background can be lonely and sometimes you just need a little attention. People below 12 shouldn’t watch this film.- Hopeful

[Note: Please DON’T Take Our Reviews To Heart, Don’t Send Hate To Our Blogs Because You Disagree]

#review #movies #barbie movie #movie review #movie recommendation #ratings #barbie #just ken #margot robbie #ryan gosling

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conservativetradlife · 2 years

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Porn Bloggers?

Ya need Jesus.

If you want to just delete this WHOLE rant and keep the above, be my guest, but only if you subscribe to the ideas listed below... Its kind of important. Jesus accepted whores and sinners, we should to. At least thats how I feel.

MOVING ON.

I see you following me. I see all of you, and I know you are thinking about the lifestyle that I promote. A single partnership bound by love and faith, a bound close knit family and a homey lifestyle relying on God’s bounty to provide.

I have a high influx of BDSM/Porn Blogs following me, and I don’t condone that kind of blogs following me, as I don’t agree with porn on a visceral level - however, it’s surprising to me how many women, appealing to the male fantasy ‘sex kitten’, and men seeking ‘slutty’ submissive women follow me.

Like genuinely, I don’t promote anything that is agreeable to that kind of lifestyle and I have spoken at length with members of both sides of this community on the ‘why’ the Traditional Lifestyle is so appealing. I can’t say that either side has bad points to make - but when I see the kind of content shared by these blogs I really just feel sorry for you all. It’s by no means condescending for me to say that I feel sorry for you, and where you are at, to want to live the kind of lifestyle you are promoting on your blog... It might seem appealing in the short term? But when I think about it, I don’t think that these lifestyles are sustainable in any way, and its sad that the only way you feel you can get the love you need, is to degrade yourself in one way or another to suit the sexual needs of your partner.

I think there is inherent value in being alone - in feeling your feelings, both good, bad and uncomfortable. Being alone in all senses, but most importantly in your romantic life. If you don’t spend time learning who you are, what YOU want, while not being steeped in the desires and interests of another, you never learn about what makes you happy, nor find the value you have in yourself.

I am by no means a saint. I want to be clear about the fact that my life is very much a rocky story to tell, and one that I have graduated from with time. I can understand those who feel as though becoming a sex object is the only way to feel like you are getting what you deserve. A rotten, deep self loathing that reeks in the pit of your gut and poisons you from the inside out. I can see those who prey on the vulnerable, people looking for purpose who are wounded in many different ways seeking validation and love in the only way they can control.

Its the fact that despite that, I still have people following my content, which I hope is showing a different life. One that is hopeful and different - not just aesthetic to the eye, but to the soul and mind. I hope the content I share inspires you to seek validation and worth outside of your body or own primal urges. I am by no means judging you - as a Christian, someone who believes wholly in Jesus Christ himself. How could I rightfully sit there and judge someone for the way they lived. We are supposed to aspire to live how Jesus lived, right? Last time I checked, he consorted with a lot of people that others considered dregs of society, the broken and downtrodden were the ones he supported the most. If I am a Christian, truly, then I am not going to point my finger and say that you are a person unworthy of recognition nor understanding. I may not agree with your content, the values you have or the morals you stand for, but I respect the fact you are different than me, and your life experiences have lead you where you’ve landed in life - which is not identical to my own.

I just feel like the Trad Community is followed by a lot of BDSM/Porn blogs because we offer a glimpse into the hopeful? I refuse to believe it all has to do with kink and play - particularly as my blog is pretty much devoid of any content that would even hint at that kind of dynamic behind closed doors. I don’t see how a BDSM Blogger is getting anything from my reblogged post of an autumn forest than what I am - the comforting nostalgia of a liminal space.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe its all degenerate. Maybe we’re followed because we have pretty pictures that give a small moment to rehydrate after an hour long goon stream of increasingly graphic gifs. Maybe there are always people who will fetishize Traditionalism - bastardizing the principles presented to suit a sexual narrative... But sex isn’t really that long lasting - and eventually, everything that can be done, will eventually be done, and then what? You cast away your person for someone else, never mind the emotional ties now bound from what you went through in a dynamic, but also as a couple? It all just sounds so messy and unnecessary to me. You don’t have to live like that, honestly.

I’m choosing from now on, to believe that my blog is used as one for hope? It might sound a little uppity and full of myself, but who am I really to negate someone’s right from looking at the content I post? Nothing is explicit, nor worth putting behind a barrier. I’m really sick of seeing these names pop up, but at the same time as people choosing to take my sending asks on Sims blogs I like being reacted to like ‘m doing something racy and scandalous, maybe its one in the same. Maybe this blog is a dirty little secret, because its a fantasy that they desire to have, outside of the life they are projecting with their content.

Maybe it is them who are the anomaly.

Maybe we have what they want? Who really knows, its all conjecture.

Not judging... So sick of being in the community and pretending that sex doesn’t exist at all. So sick of this stigma hanging over the heads of the aspiring trads to entirely flip themselves under the guise of a narrative that is ages old and entirely new every generation. You can be trad and be unladylike, you can be trad and interested in BDSM with your partner, you can be LGBTQA+ and still be trad. We are projecting these ideals onto ourselves that don’t need to be there.

Maybe, these porn blogs are just other Trads letting their freak flags fly. Who knows? I am absolutely a different person than the one I want to be online. One who is more patient, more Godly, more agreeable... I know I have hard edges, but I don’t think they can or should be softened by the Traditional Community.

What I’m doing here, is promoting a lifestyle that integrates one partner (a monogamous pair) and leads to having children - as many as God permits. I want to promote motherhood - femininity in its purest form, I want to inspire women to promote their natural beauty and value themselves enough to wait for a partner worth having who values you as much as you deserve. I want to promote a devotion to God, one that is powerful - but personal. Shared when you wish you share and celebrated as you wish to celebrate it.

It seems a little silly to me, really, that the Trad community is so opposed to the concept of sex (even in private polite company) but are dedicated to the ideas of having large families with their spouse. Do NOT @ me about adoption or IVF. We all know the diatribe. WE KNOW. I shouldn’t have to preface it with that. For those natural families to happen, you’re gonna have sex - and being sex positive to some degree, in my opinion, is super important to the success of a marriage. Finding someone who is willing to explore, be a little crazy and keep things fresh is important, sex is a love language for a lot of people. We can’t forget that.

Ugh... This whole rant has given me a headache. Uugh. You porn blogs are too much some times, I can’t. I have to say at this point, I am a sex positive blog. I don’t agree with porn, I am not a fan of you porn bloggers and I would much rather you don’t follow me, because you’re never subtle about what you’re about and yuck guys, honestly... Yuck. But at this point, I’m done pretending that sex shocks or appalls me. If you’re not okay with that, please feel free to unfollow. I will not be reblogging anything of the sexual variety on this blog - period. But my opinions might be a bit more stand forward from now on in regards to this.

Ya’ll are seriously exhausting. Go outside and touch some grass...

#rant #trad #traditional #traditional feminine #traditional woman

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outerrangesource · 2 years

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WILD WEST — ...

Outer Range is a twisty mysterious sci-fi western in which you play eccentric backpacker Autumn. What initially drew you to the project? How did you feel when you first read the script?

I couldn't immediately understand it. When the script came in, we only had the synopsis and the first episode. Reading it through, it felt like a western and I’d always been really obsessed with that genre of literature and movies but had yet to get a chance to be in that world. At the beginning, it was such a huge leap of faith, but I trusted in it.

When you read the script, you said you weren't sure whether your character Autumn is a good or bad person. Was it that complexity that drew you to the role?

There was a lot of room to go either way with her. It was fun to lean into the fact that I didn’t know. There were days where her goals were more obvious and other times, she seems to obfuscate on purpose just to confuse people. I really enjoyed that about her. I was also aware that because of her container being a 30-something blonde actress there would be an energy that’s expected from her, and it was fun trying to subvert that.

What kind of energy would be expected from her?

That her main goal would be to be like a siren and manipulate every single person there and use her feminine wiles to get what she wants. She is a woman, and the writers deliberately made her a woman, but I was more interested in thinking about what it would be like if she wasn’t. What if she was a beast or a creature or something other. It was nice to try and lean away from cliches.

Do you try to avoid playing tropey or cliche female characters?

Yeah, of course. Obviously, no one would want to play those parts but, on the other hand, I also feel that there's a rhetoric that goes around about girlfriend parts that they only exist in order to further the story for the man, and I think that's quite harsh. There are so many incredible female performances where they haven't been the lead. Amy Ryan in Jack Goes Boating or Michelle Williams in Brokeback Mountain. There are so many women in these roles who are doing extraordinary work. I believe that every role is a real person. I think people are starting to change a little bit. You don't see those character descriptions as much in scripts anymore where it's like "she's hot, but she doesn't know it!"

How did you prepare for the role? What research did you do to get into the role of Autumn?

We were given a breakdown of books and music and movies. Autumn is a character at that age where you first come across writers that you love, and you almost lose all sense of who you are and what you actually think. You just adopt their modes of thinking. I think she’s still in that danger zone.

Autumn can be quite reckless and impulsive. Do you relate to that?

I became quite impulsive when I was playing her and I didn't realise it at the time. It doesn't normally happen to me, but I did notice by the end of the show I felt like I was pushing myself outside my comfort zone socially in terms of saying what I actually felt and thought. I think that came from an understanding that I wanted to shed a skin. What follows impulse is sometimes risk and it's unknown how that will land. I lived in comfortable discomfort for a bit. I finished the job and came back home and it felt nice to be grounded again but I actually found it quite hard at the end of the job to adapt back. I haven't had that before.

#outer range #outer range spoilers #imogen poots #autum rivers #interview

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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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roscgcld · 3 years

Text

ZEN’IN NAOYA || husband’s duty

request: omg if it is okay can i ask for a part 2 of sweet little things 🥲

note: you definitely can, love! honestly this definitely cracked my head a little since we didn’t get to explore naoya too much as a character, underneath all that complexity that makes him up as the man we saw in the manga. But I am not gonna sit here and say I do not simp for him AHAHAHA - that would be a huge lie. But we shall see, no? I feel like I made him too soft though, but I live for soft!Naoya - so do not touch me T^T

part one

warning: suggestive scene throughout, but nothing happens really. just naoya being an ass lol

pronouns: she/her

A content sigh left Naoya’s lips as he leans back into the warm water of the bath, his eyes slowly sliding shut at the warmth that surrounds him. Today has been a long day on the office - with back to back meetings and piles of paperwork on his desk, he was just ready to land into his bed face first and sleep the evening away.

“What do you want for your onigiri filling tomorrow? The farmers that produce that special rice you like sent a bag of rice to us earlier today.”

Your soft and sweet voice was what broke him out of his tranquil trance, yet he doesn’t find himself getting angry. Instead he hummed as he leans towards the direction of your voice, seeming to melt further in the steaming water when your soft hands immediately rest themselves against his broad shoulders. Fingers immediately getting to work on the knots that had started to build up since the afternoon. “Hmm...unagi filling sounds good.”

“I’ll make some for your bento tomorrow then,” You reassured him with a warm smile as you started to work through the knots on his shoulders, making sure to not accidentally dig your short but well kept nails into his skin. Whilst Naoya enjoys leaving marks of ownership all over your person, he does not appreciate having any scars left on his skin. And although he does not voice his disapproval, you know your husband well enough to know that unless he is in the mood, you should be careful about things like your nails scratching his skin.

The idea of you making one of his favourite dishes for him, knowing that he has to deal with more paperwork and calls tomorrow has him smiling softly in response. He would not voice out how your little actions causes his usually cold heart to skip a beat; instead he just leans back a little when he heard you collecting some water from the tub with the wooden shower pale. Relishing in the feeling of the water being poured over his two-toned hair, along with your soft fingers gently running through the strands.

Many people feel bad for you, since everyone knows what kind of man Naoya is. Everyone knows that he is nothing more but a skirt chaser, a man who views women as nothing an accessory to hang off his arm. Whose purpose is to provide strong heirs, and nothing more. You knew of the man even before you met him the first time on your family estate - listening to your older sister rant about how much of a myogenetic, rude, and disgusting excuse of a man Zen’In Naoya is. You’ve heard of the whispers from the other women whenever you would join a jujutsu event where the Zen’Ins would be in attendance. You knew that the moment both your fathers shook hands after Naoya shows great interest in you, your future was sealed to be with a man who seems to be every woman’s living nightmare.

And yet, for the last 4 months of marriage life, things have been...pleasant.

Naoya knew from the moment that he spoke to you that he needed to act ‘softer’ in order to gain your trust. That he cannot be his full self around you for at least the first month of your marriage in order to make him trust you; or until his patience runs thin from acting.

However, even though he has promised himself that he will drop the act after the first month; here he is, 4 months into your new marriage. Still finding it almost natural for him to act softer and more...kinder around you. Maybe it is because he finds your personality just so soft and welcoming that it just...felt right to treat you differently. Maybe he is just trying to reason to himself that as his wife, you should be treated differently from the common folk outside of your private home; after all, as long as he keeps you happy, he can get away with pretty much anything.

And yet...he has yet to find it in him to actually act like his usual self around you. Almost as if he was afraid of scaring you, or fearing that you’re scared of him. It’s laughable - how a man who was so self centered and only cared about himself and no one else, seemed to be so worried about what his wife thinks about him. He had reasoned to him that this is normal; that any husband would want their wife to fear them.

But just...it was odd to him. How he chooses to act differently around you, and not feel like he is forced in any way.

His opened his eyes to take a peak at you when his thoughts start to wonder, scanning over your concentrated features as you carefully worked the shampoo through his hair. Somehow just seeing you so focused on making sure that he was enjoying his bath had his heart skipping a beat; something that would have scared him if it were to happen with anyone else.

Yet, instead he found himself letting a small but genuine smile tug against the corners of his lips, one that immediately catches your attention as you carefully wash the studs from his hair. “What got you so happy, my love?,” You asked him curiously as you carefully ran your fingers through his hair, making sure that all the studs were gone. Instead of answering he just reached his hand up to grab your wrist in his gently, pressing a soft kiss against the inside of your wrist.

Naoya isn’t a man to convey his emotions often. He doesn’t necessarily view emotions as weak; he just sees no reason to show others around him how he feels unless it brings him some form of advantage. Other then that, he just puts up an arrogant and unbothered front for the most part. But with you...well, you were different. You are his wife, and in order to be a good husband, he needs to show you that he is willing to show you what is underneath his mask. Or so, he thinks that is what he needs to do.

The feeling of Naoya’s lips against your skin send a set of shivers down your spine, your eyes shyly glancing away from his handsome face as you felt the tips of your ears warm up. Just seeing how bashful you were about something as small as showing you emotion had him smirking against your wrist, immediately wanting to see just how far he can push his luck.

And he knows exactly what to do. “Get in the bath with me.”

You immediately snapped your shocked eyes back at your husband in shock, immediately feeling your cheeks warm at how he was staring at you expectantly. Although you’ve seen each other naked before, with him being so obsessed of having an heir of his own - it would be a surprise if you haven’t see him naked in all his glory. It wasn’t like he was bad to look at either - from all the training puts himself through to perfect his Technique, you would be lying to say that you’ve never stared at his strong back or broad shoulders whenever you two are alone.

It was just...so sudden. And you immediately knew what his intensions were, yet you just pouted softly as you quietly pulled yourself up from the steps you were seated on. Just seeing the soft pout tugging against the corner of your lips had Naoya biting back a smile as he watches you strip from your kimono, carefully folding the expensive fabrics to the side.

Soon you carefully made your way up the wooden steps of the traditional bathtub, thanking your husband quietly as he held a hand out to help you into the tub. You awkwardly knelt down between Naoya’s knees, still a little nervous to touch him even though he was the one who invited you into the bath with him. Naoya found your fear quite amusing, and without missing a beat he grabbed your hand in his before he pulls you close; chuckling at the squeak you let out when you landed against his bare chest.

“Don’t need to be so scared, my wife,” Naoya mumbles with a smirk, hands trailing down your soft back to relish the goosebumps that appear on your skin; his eyes glancing away from your shocked face to your fists resting against his chest. “After all...if there is one person worthy enough to be by my side, it will be you,” He mumbles, hands that seem even warmer than the water surrounding you two resting on the small of your back.

A combination from his soft touches, to his overly sweet but frank words had your face burning up once more as you whine and bury your face into his neck, your actions causing Naoya to let out a soft but genuine peel of laughter come from his chest. “Did I startle you?,” Naoya asks in amusement, already knowing the answer to that question. Yet he wanted for you to answer the question yourself, since he lives for seeing you getting embarrassed over the smallest of interactions with him.

You fluttered your eyes close to try and calm you rapid heartbeat, yet you nodded your head gently to answer his question. “A-A little..,” You mumble back quietly against his skin, heart skipping a beat a little at Naoya’s soft chuckle that he breathed against the shell of your ear. Naoya did not want to admit it, but he finds this subconsciously clingy side of you quite endearing. Whilst he hates it when others touch him, even if they grazed him by accident; he does not mind it when it’s you.

Maybe he has gone a little insane after marriage.

After you’ve managed to gather your wits, you quietly pulled away from him before you reached back to grab the wash towel you had grabbed from earlier, Naoya curiously opened one of hi eyes when you shifted against his chest. Just having you pressed up against his chest, along with the warm water surrounding him had lulled him into a tranquil and sleepy state. But he didn’t stop you as you wet the wash towel before you carefully lathered his body wash into the fabric.

Quietly you started to wash his body like you would usually every night, yet this time it was a little different since now you were in the bath with him. Something that he has never really allowed before, since he views his bath time as his personal time. You would usually help him bathe before you leave the bathroom to prepare for bed and whatever wifely duties you need to fulfil for the night.

But if you were being honest, as you carefully washed your husband clean, you did not mind a change to your routine. Yet you did not voice your inner thoughts as you continue gliding your hands over Naoya’s arms, making sure to keep quiet to give him the silence he enjoys whenever he’s in the bath. However, Naoya was in the mood to talk today.

Whilst you were carefully washing his chest, Naoya’s hands started to wander along your body once more once more. “So, what did you get up today whilst your husband was out at work?”

You blinked up at your husband curiously, to which he just raised an eyebrow in response at the look you threw his way. “Can a husband not know what his wife gets up to when he slaves away at his desk?,” Naoya asks with a soft raise of his brow, his words causing you to widen your eyes as you shake your head immediately. Not wanting him to think that you’re questioning his authority. “O-Of course not! I-I just...thought...you’d like some quiet in your alone time..”

A soft sigh was your only response, to which you awkwardly looked away from your husband’s eyes to stare at his hard chest; worried that you’ve angered the man. “You know...I want to hear about your day too,” Naoya mumbles after a few tensed seconds of silence, a finger gently crocking under your chin to coax your eyes to look up at him. He did not have a smile on his serious face, yet there was a soft look shining in his usually hard eyes. “I get curious sometimes when I have time to breath...what does my beautiful wife do at home when I am away? Does she miss me? Does she take the free time she gets to pretend that she is not my wife? What could you be possibly be doing when I am away from home..?”

When you heard his words, you tilted your head softly as you scanned his face, trying to understand the meaning behind his message. He wasn’t dumb - he was more than aware of the whispers of the maids that thought he was not around, how people feel bad for you that you are married to a man like him. He honestly doesn’t care what others have to say about him - he never cared about what others have to say about him. Because he knows that when they need power or need something to get done, they will always turn to him with fake smiles and praise dripping from their tongues.

However, he was genuinely worried about you - he was worried that the whispers of his past will start to scare you away. Make you think that you are an idiot for marrying a man like him, and slowly but surely take you away from him. For once he was worried that you are going to leave him, because for once in his life, he finally understand what it truly means to be home. The very thought of you leaving him shakes him down to his very core, and he will do everything in his power to prevent that from becoming his reality.

“I don’t...think like that, you know.”

Your soft voice snapped his train of thought as he glances back into your eyes, blinking when your soft hands rest against his cheeks gently with a soft smile gracing your features. “I knew the type of man you were before you came to my family estate that day, and I have heard of all the rumours of your attitude even whilst you were courting me. But that didn’t change my decision because I genuinely enjoyed having you around.”

Your words had Naoya widening his eyes as his mind went blank at your confession. And seeing your usually stoic and arrogant husband looking stunned had you giggling as your thumbs started to stroke at his high cheekbones. “Yes, you may be a little colder and stricter then I am used to, but you are still a good man. You’ve been nothing but a good husband to me, and far from the rumours paint you to be. So don’t worry too much about my thoughts on our marriage, because I am nothing but happy to be your wife.”

Quietly you gently tugged his face close, resting his forehead against yours with a smile. “I know that you grew up in a different world from I did, and that you were brought up with different morals from mine. But I also know you’re trying for me, and that is more than enough for me at the end of the day.” You mumble softly, revealing to him that you were more observant than you let on. Yet you faked ignorance for his sake because you genuinely cared for him as a person. “Because at the end of the day, a wife is knows all of her husband’s sides the best.”

For once Naoya was completely stunned into silence, having never expected for you to be so candid about your feelings. Your response to his stunned silence was a quiet giggle as you lean forward to press a soft kiss against the tip of his nose. The feeling of your warm and soft lips snapped him back into reality, and upon realising how close you were, his pale cheeks flushed up from embarrassment. Immediately one of his hands pulled itself away from where they were resting against your bare hips to cover his cheeks with the back of his hand, eyes darting away as he leans away from you immediately.

“I-I want to get out of the bath now...”

You let out a giggle at the sight of your husband so out of character, yet you made no other comment as you nodded with a smile. “Lets get ready for bed then, my love,” You hummed out as you carefully got out to grab the towels for the both of you, biting back your smile at how cute you find him to be as you dried yourself before you did the same for him.

It was only later into the night, long after you’ve fallen asleep when Naoya really calmed down. You had long fallen asleep, face tucked away underneath his chin whilst your arms wrapped around him loosely. He knows he needed to sleep in order to function properly tomorrow, but his mind has been racing the moment you two got out of the bath to prepare for bed together.

He still cannot wrap his head around the idea that you willingly stay, even knowing that there is a chance you might see a less ideal version of himself. You choose to stay knowing all of the rumours about him and his, admittedly, horrendous behaviour and morals. And whilst he does not know what was it that he did that had you landing in his life, he is 100% sure he will never let you go.

Quietly he presses a soft kiss against the top of your head, a soft but content sigh leaving his lips as he closes his eyes to try and get some sleep before his alarm would go off later. Signaling to a start of another long and boring day away from you once more.

“You’re the best thing that has happened to me,” He mumbles softly into the quiet bedroom, a soft admission to you whilst you’re far away in dreamland, dreaming of things unknown to him. But the least he can pray for is that he wouldn’t become the enemy in your nightmares.

Because at the end of the day, it’s a husband’s duty to protect the happiness of their wife from the evils of the world. Even if the biggest evil in their lives is themselves. As long as he is your husband, you will have nothing to fear.

He will make sure of it.

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samwisethewitch · 4 years

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Witchcraft and Activism

The word “witch” is a politically charged label. If we look at how the word was used historically, it referred to someone who existed outside of the normal social order. The people accused of witchcraft in the European and American witch trials were mostly — experts say between 75% and 80% — women. They were also overwhelmingly poor, single, or members of a minority ethnicity and/or religion. In other words, they were people who did not follow their society’s accepted model of womanhood (or, in the case of accused men, manhood).

If you choose to identify with the witch label, you are choosing to identify with subversion of gender norms, resistance to the dominant social order, and “outsider” status. If that makes you uncomfortable or uneasy, then you may want to use another label for your magical practice. Witchcraft always has been and always will be inherently political.

In her book Witches, Sluts, Feminists, Kristen J. Sollee argues that the “slut” label is in many ways a modern equivalent to the “witch” label. In both cases, the label is used to devalue people, most often women, and to enforce a patriarchal and misogynist social order.

Superstitions around witchcraft are connected to the modern stigma around abortion (and, to a lesser extent, contraception). Midwifery and abortion were directly linked to witchcraft in the European witch hunts. Today, women who seek abortions are condemned as sluts, whores, and murderers. The fight for reproductive freedom remains inextricably linked with the witch label.

During the women’s liberation movement of the 1960s, the socialist feminist group Women’s International Terrorist Conspiracy from Hell (W.I.T.C.H.) used the image of the witch to campaign for women’s rights and other social issues. They were some of the first advocates for intersectional feminism (feminist activism that addresses other social issues that overlap with gendered issues). They performed acts such as hexing Wall Street capitalists and wearing black veils to protest bridal fairs. The W.I.T.C.H. Manifesto calls witches the “original guerrillas and resistance fighters against oppression.”

In her book Revolutionary Witchcraft, Sarah Lyons points out that both witchcraft and politics are about raising and directing power in the world. In a postmodern society, most of our reality is socially constructed — it works because we collectively believe it does. Money only has value because we believe it does. Politicians only have power because we believe they do. Our laws are only just because we believe they are. Like in magic, everything in society is a product of belief and a whole lot of willpower — and that makes witches the ideal social activists.

Lyons argues that witchcraft is inseparable from politics, because witches have always opposed dominant political power. She makes a connection between the witch trials and the rise of capitalism and classism. She connects the basic concepts of magic to historic activist groups like the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT UP), who used ritual as an act of protest.

Not every witch is a hardcore activist, but every witch should have a basic awareness of political and social issues and be willing to do what they can to make a difference.

Ways to Combine Witchcraft and Activism

Perform a ritual to feel connected to the earth and her people. Activism should come from a place of love, not a place of hate. Make sure you’re fighting for the right reasons by frequently taking time to reconnect with the planet and the people who live here. This can be as simple as laying down on the ground outside and meditating on all the ways you are connected to other people, as well as to the ecosystem, animals, and the earth herself. If getting up close and personal with the grass and dirt isn’t your thing, try to find a beautiful place in nature where you can sit and journal about the interconnected nature of all things.

Unlearn your social programming. This is the most difficult and most important part of any activism. Before you can change the world outside yourself, you have to change your own psyche. Think about how you have been socialized to contribute to (or at least turn a blind eye to) the issues you want to fight against. For example, if you want to fight for racial justice, you need to understand how you have contributed to a racist system. You can do this in a variety of ways: through meditation, journaling, or divination, to name a few. Note that whatever method you choose, this will probably take weeks or months of repeated work. Rewriting your thought and behavior patterns is hard, and it can’t be done in a single day. Also note that if you are a victim of systemic oppression or prejudice, this work may bring up a lot of emotional baggage — you may want to involve a professional therapist or counselor.

Go to protests. Sending energy and doing healing rituals is great, but someone has to get out there and visibly fight for change. If you are able to do so, start going to protests and rallies for causes you care about. Don’t just show up, but be an active participant — make signs, yell and chant, and stand your ground if cops show up. Be safe and responsible, but be loud and assertive, too. If you want to go all out, you can don the black robes, pointed hats, and veils of W.I.T.C.H.es past, which has the added bonus of concealing your identity.

Turn your donations into a spell for change. When you donate to a cause you care about, charge your donation with a spell for positive change. You can do this by holding your cash, check, or debit card in both hands and focusing on your desire for change. Feel this desire flowing into the money, filling it with your determination. From here, make your donation, knowing that you’ll be sending an energy boost along with it.

Organize an activist coven. Do you have a handful of friends who are interested in witchcraft, passionate about activism, or both? Start a coven! Go to protests together, hold monthly rituals to raise energy for change, and collect money for donations. Being part of a group also means having a support system, which can help prevent burnout. Make a plan to check on each other regularly. You may even choose to do monthly group rituals for self care, which may be actual magic rituals or might be as simple as ordering takeout and watching a movie. Activism can be intensely draining work, so it’s important to take breaks when you need them!

Hold public rituals with an activist slant. Nothing gets people’s attention like a bunch of folks standing in a circle and chanting. Holding public rituals is one of the best ways to raise awareness for a cause. You might hold a vigil for victims of police brutality, a healing circle for the environment, or some other ritual that is relevant to the issue at hand. These rituals serve a double purpose, as they both bring people’s attention to the issue and give them an opportunity to work for change on a spiritual level. Use prayers, chants, and symbolism that is appropriate to the theme, and ask participants to make a small donation to a charity related to your cause.

Begin your public rituals with a territory acknowledgement. If you live in the United States, chances are you live on land that was taken from the native people by force. If you seek to have a relationship with the land, you need to first acknowledge the original inhabitants and the suffering they endured so you can be there. Use a website like native-land.ca to find out what your land was originally called and what indigenous groups originally lived there. Publicly acknowledge this legacy at your ritual, and publicly state your intention to support indigenous peoples. (Revolutionary Witchcraft has an excellent territory acknowledgement that you can customize for your area.)

Make an altar to your activist ancestors. If activism or membership in a marginalized group is a big part of your life, you may want to create a space for it in your home. Like an ancestor altar, this is a space to remember influential members of the community who have died. Choose a flat surface like a tabletop or shelf and decorate it with photos of your “ancestors,” as well as other appropriate items like flags, pins, stickers, etc. As a queer person, my altar to my LGBTQ+ ancestors might include images of figures like Sappho, Marsha P. Johnson, and Freddie Mercury, as well as items like a pink triangle patch, a small rainbow pride flag, and dried violets and green carnations. You may also choose to include a candle, an incense burner, and/or a small dish for offerings. Just remember to never place images of living people on an altar honoring the dead!

Do your research. Staying educated is an important part of activism — not only do your actions need to be informed, but you need to be able to speak intelligently about your issues. Read the news (on actual news websites, not just social media). Read lots of books; some I personally recommend are Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson, Love and Rage by Lama Rod Owens, and (as previously mentioned) Revolutionary Witchcraft by Sarah Lyons. If you can get access to them, read scholarly articles about theories that are influential among activists, like the Gaia Hypothesis or Deep Ecology. Read everything you can get your hands on.

VOTE! And I don’t just mean voting for the presidential candidate you like (or, as is often the case, voting against the one you don’t like). Vote for your representatives. Vote for city council. Vote for the county sheriff. Voting gives you a chance to make sure the people in office will be susceptible to your activism. Yes, your side might lose or your electoral college representative might choose to go against the popular vote. Even so, voting is a way to clearly communicate the will of the people, and it puts a lot of pressure on the people in charge. It’s important — don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.

In my experience, combining activism with my witchcraft is a deeply fulfilling spiritual experience. It strengthens my connection to the world around me, with helps grow both empathy and magical power. I truly can’t imagine my practice without the activist element.

Resources:

Witches, Sluts, Feminists by Kristen J. Sollee

Revolutionary Witchcraft by Sarah Lyons

The Study of Witchcraft by Deborah Lipp

The Way of Fire and Ice by Ryan Smith

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

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Analyzing Kars' Character

Hello everyone! FYI I am not ignoring your requests. I have tried for a week to get them finished and I keep losing motivation. Then I had the brilliant idea of writing something else about an interesting topic and then I’ll be able to finish a few requests! Today’s post is another character analysis. This is still a multi-fandom blog; you will see content related to other shows besides Voltron. Today’s character analysis is on Kars, the 10,000-year-old vampire. That’s funny. He, Allura, and Coran are the same age!

Overview

I watched JoJo’s Bizarre Adventures about a month ago when I became frustrated that there were only 4 seasons of Hunter x Hunter on Netflix. Remember the scene in the election arc when the citizens were casting their votes for chairperson and Hisoka walked up with his arms forming an “S”? Many people were posing the question of it being a “JoJo’s” reference and for the life of me, I never understood what they were talking about. Finally, I watched the show for the first time and by season 2 I could understand what they were saying.

I have to admit that by the second episode I was bored because the nature of season one took place in the 1800s England and nothing exciting happened. Though I worked my way through a few more episodes. I noticed a creepy stone mask on the way and how it never fell unless blood was splattered on it. I concluded the mask was going to play the role of an antagonist or help the antagonist succeed. Although this post is about Kars, I would like to take a moment and say that Jonathan’s death was very heart wrenching and it made me angry. Jonathan was unnecessarily nice to Dio and living in a privileged bubble lead to his demise. Jonathan was stronger than Dio and he should have kicked his ass once and for all. Have you noticed that after Joseph’s father, all JoJo’s (at least until season 5) could beat the antagonist in the show?

Anyway, the mask is a key tool in the bizarre adventures that each protagonist experiences.

Kars is a 10,000-year-old vampire that designed the Stone Mask and is essentially responsible for the horrific events that have happened throughout history. Dio being turned into a merciless vampire and his minions resulted from the Stone Mask. After discovering that he and his people could not be out in the sun, he concluded he needed the Red Stone of Aja to complete his transformation. Lisa-Lisa, a 50-year-old human woman, has possession of the stone given by her foster father Straizo. Kars, along with the 3 remaining Pilar Men (Wamuu, Esidsi, and Santana, can only survive in the sun if they two wear the mask with the Red Stone of Aja. After awakening, it is quite clear that Kars is on a mission to retrieve the stone and will destroy anything in his way. He was the only one wanting to live a life outside of the darkness. This was the driving force of creating so many Stone Masks and later discovering the need for the Red Stone of Aja. Kars understood the mask would only work on him partially because of his larger skull size, aka body manipulation. This created an increase in hunger. The Pillar Men did not like this at all and sought to eliminate him so he could not ruin the flow of nature. Kars retaliated; he murdered 99% of his people only leaving his friend Esidsi, and two children known as Santana and Wamuu.

Kars’ character is very interesting. A dog was about to have its life ended because of drunk drivers. I don’t know if this struck a nerve in his soul, but Kars nearly cut off the driver’s head, causing them to crash their car and the puppy was saved. After being defeated by Joseph the first time, he landed at the end of a snowy cliff, making sure he did not land on a few daisies. Given these unique interactions with nature and secondary species, Kars has some vendetta against humans. What did they do to him or his people for him to care only about flowers and animals but want to wipe out Harmon users? He insists that Lisa-Lisa drink poison instead of fighting her. Fighting women is something he and Wamuu don’t take pleasure in doing. When I heard this for the first time, I didn’t know if that was something to be proud of or if he was being misogynistic (you know the stereotypical view society has about women). Even if he genuinely did not want to lay a finger on Lisa-Lisa or any woman, his intentions are very questionable. He mimics politeness. If Kars offered to pay for dinner or a drink, run. Just run because if you don’t, you’ll probably be turned into a vampire or be eaten alive.

This is off topic but I wanted to pose this scenario. After watching Battle Tendency for the 10th time, I always like to bring out the “soft” side in villains. Being a sucker for Fluff isn’t helpful. I know that’s defeating the purpose of villains and antagonists, but I can’t help and wonder how it would show in Kars. As I’ve previously stated, Kars seems to care for animals and plants more than humans...so there’s a soft spot somewhere in there. I had a rather amusing and odd thought involving Kars and Lisa-Lisa. Since Lisa-Lisa is the leader over Caesar and Joseph and Kars is the leader over the remain few Pillar Men, I can’t help but wonder how they’d react to each other. When Lisa-Lisa is ordered by Kars to stay at their hideout while Joseph retrieved the Stone, I know she didn’t stand there like a statue for nearly 12 hours. I imagine Kars offering a drink, water, or juice just to get her talking. I mean, she has to warm up to him or it’s going to be a horrible 12 hours. Then he’ll try to engage in conversation and will only try to flirt with her to see how she responds. He may make a comment about how clear her skin is, how perfect her makeup stays intact, or how her legs look better than his (well, duh, you’re 9,950 years older than her!). This way, he can exploit anything he deems as a weakness, but she is a smart woman. She would reveal nothing about her that could be used against her. As OOC as this seems, it could be something he’d do. Remember, he mimics politeness; he has a trick up his sleeve. Although that may be true, at the back of his mind, he really admires how young and enchanting she looks.

Although Esidsi, Wamuu, and Santana are Pillar Men, they are ancient humanoid superhuman beings who lived on the American continent. They have supernatural abilities that leave them invincible while the sun is down. They look similar to humans, but they are much bigger and muscular. Among the 3 remaining Pillar Men, I seem to gravitate to Kars than the others. Before you judge me, I’ll explain. Kars, like many male characters in this anime and others, has a unique character design. Contrary to popular belief, I like Kars better in his head wrap or while he is wearing his hat and cape. That outfit reminds me of a ghost/monster from the remastered Scooby-Doo series in the 70s. The one thing in particular that stood out to me was his eye shadow and mascara. The earrings didn’t surprise me as every time I draw my male characters, they automatically get a pair of earrings. While being physically fit, he can make ANYTHING look excellent!

Just like any villain, Kars and Joseph are equally arrogant and can exploit their opponent’s weaknesses against them. Making jokes about Lisa-Lisa while she is unconscious nearly sets him over the edge and while Kars thinks he has defeated Joseph, he is launched into space.

Last but not least, I noticed how the first two protagonists form an unusual bond with their enemies. As many of you have seen, Dio calls Jonathan JoJo but does not acknowledge Joseph or Jotaro in the same way. He does twice towards Jotaro but not after that. Kars refers to Joseph as JoJo and I have to believe that even if he knew his real name, he’d still refer to him as JoJo. Wamuu stated that fighting Jospeh was worth his time as he did not waste it and fight fairly. Throughout their battles, they somehow remind me of childish games with the name-calling and all. I wish Kars was not a “onetime” villain. I wish he could roll over to the next season. This is a preference, as I hate seasonal villains, like Chrollo Lucilfer or anyone similar.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading!

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whatifxwereyou · 3 years

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The Oncoming Storm Part 17: Blackout

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Oh no, you made things complicated. Lol. I'm having more fun writing Kung Lao than should be allowed. Hopefully you guys enjoy! And yes, I know this is tropey but I also don't care LOL, it's a fun trope.

Part 16 Part 18 Chapter Index

The hotel was surprisingly crowded. You weren’t sure what you’d expected but you hadn’t expected it to be bustling with tourists. There was a festival happening, you should have expected this. A bit outdated, the hotel was still clean and inviting. A welcome reprieve from the stone walls of Raiden’s Temple. You’d arrived early and still had to wait in line. Raiden had ‘transported’ you there which had been a wild experience in and of itself. You’d walked into a bolt of lightning and had come out in a quiet alley unseen.

It had been so long since you’d walked amongst the average civilian that it felt straight up bizarre to be walking along the streets of the modest city, especially in your hanfu. It was all you’d had, after all. No one looked at you twice other than to greet you politely. Most of the other folks staying at the hotel for the festival were couples on a romantic getaway which had made it instantly weird to be waiting in line with Kung Lao to check into your respective rooms.

Thankfully, the line moved quickly and once you’d checked in, you dropped off the few belongings you’d brought with you. The room was tiny with a single bed, a desk taking up nearly the rest of the room. Atop the desk was a television and beneath that was an old, ancient mini fridge. It would do well enough. This was the most technology you’d seen in weeks. Afterwards, you’d found Kung Lao and told him that you would meet him in an hour. You’d made note of a clothing store down the road and wanted to see if there was anything worth buying.

He, of course, decided to join you. No one trusted you alone anymore. He didn’t say it like that, but you knew that Raiden had told both him and Liu to keep an eye on you. You felt like a ticking time bomb.

Once at the shop you were disappointed to find that it sold mostly yukatas and kimonos. You supposed it was better than the flowy hanfu. At least you could pick out something that would be your own rather than something that had been handed to you.

Boy, you missed the internet.

You picked out a few pieces that you could work with a bit easier. Most of the hanfu were dresses or long flowy robes. Here you’d been able to find a few women’s kimonos that had hakama pants as an option. You had never been so excited to see pants in your life. You didn’t need the whole kimono, just the pants. Some constricted around the ankles while others were left open. You grabbed both and were extremely pleased.

“Sometimes, you’re a very simple woman.” Kung Lao had patted you on the back when you’d showed him the pants in excitement. You had to agree. In that moment you were very simple. Pants had brought you joy. You’d wandered away from him after that to find a few tops, belts, and jackets. Thankfully, you’d had your wallet on you when this had all begun so you had some money on you. In Raiden’s Temple, money hadn’t been necessary, so you were happy to spend it on the few things you did need.

They weren’t jeans and a t-shirt or even cute dresses, but it felt like a step in the right direction toward feeling like yourself again. You hadn’t realized how much it had bothered you until then.

Kung Lao had purchased just enough for the day in flattering red and black. That seemed to be his aesthetic though you could picture him in blues too for some reason. Then you made your way back to the hotel and to your rooms on the top floor. You had gotten rooms next to each other. You went to get changed and were happy with what you saw even in the half mirror on the desk. You stood on the bed to get a better look. Black hakama pants and a grayish-lavender and black top with a white sash tied around your middle. You then pulled your hair back in a ponytail and admired yourself in the mirror. Even though your hair was a mess you looked much more like yourself.

Your white roots had grown out a couple of inches now. It didn’t look bad, but it definitely didn’t look like it was on purpose either.

Oh well! You jumped off the bed and then left the room to find Kung Lao waiting for you, leaned against the wall next to your door. He had one foot propped against the wall, arms folded across his chest, hat obscuring his face as it often did. The clothing he’d bought wasn’t too terribly different from what he usually wore with the notable exception that he had sleeves which was truly a shame. He tilted his head up just enough to greet you before stepping away from the wall. You hadn’t left him waiting that long and yet he acted as though he’d been there for ages.

You noticed the jade ring from his usual outfit was woven into his outfit with the sash around his waist laced through it. It was kind of sweet that he always seemed to have it on him.

“Is that significant in some way? Special?” You asked, gesturing to the ring. He looked down at the ring in surprise and then nodded down the hall. You walked slowly through the hotel toward the stairwell.

“It’s a relic from my ancestor, the Great Kung Lao.”

“Oh, wow. About that, though… I’ve heard people mention him, but I had never heard the name before you. I know that he’s of some importance which has made you important…”

“I am incredibly important, thank you.”

“Yes, very. Keep talking.”

“He was the first champion of Mortal Kombat who had come from the Shaolin Order of Light. He defeated Shang Tsung and won the tournament.” Kung Lao seemed as though he had told this story a hundred times but was still proud to tell it. It was oddly sweet. “He was champion of Earthrealm for fifty years before the tournament was corrupted and he was killed. Even so, he is held in great reverence. He was a remarkable warrior.”

“Is that why you have a dragon mark?”

“Yes, that is why I have the mark. It’s also why I was sent away so young. I’d already been training long before I’d met you. When I left it was because it was time for me to go live at the temple.”

You stopped walking before the stairs and he stopped just in front of you and turned to face you. “Then why were you so bad when we would pretend to fight?”

“I held back. I wanted you to have fun too. Besides, it felt nice to be normal back then.” He laughed and you caught up to him and started down the stairs. “I was thinking that we should come up with a story as to why we’re here.”

“Should we?”

“Obviously. We need a reason to be here.”

“Other than the reason we actually have?”

“And when a bunch of strangers ask you why we’re here, are you going to tell them the real reason we’re here?”

“Point taken.”

“We need a cover.”

“Do we really though? I don’t remember ever having to justify my actions that intensely to strangers before. We can just be visiting.” You jumped down the last two stairs to the landing between flights. Pants felt great. Kung Lao seemed to either be overthinking your trip or grasping at straws to get to some end point. Or he was going to cause trouble. You would never forget the look that both Raiden and Liu had given him on their way out.

“I’ve been asked three times what brings me to Mount Osore during the festival. I came up with a lie on the spot but I’m no terribly proud of it or anything.”

“And what is this lie you came up with?”

“I said I was here on a date. Everyone else seems to be here on a date, so it was the first thing that jumped to mind.”

You rolled your eyes at him and he laughed in surprise, waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. You caught up to him. “Really, Kung Lao?”

“What? It’s the first thing I could think of! The people asking me were on a date and so I stuttered that I was too.”

“Kung Lao, no.”

“Come on, Y/N.”

“Can’t we just say we’re visiting and that it’s no one’s business?” You walked into the lobby and he hurried in front of you and took your hands, clasping them between his. You sighed. “Would you…” The lobby was very crowded.

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Would you,” he continued, talking over you, “do me the honor of going on a cute little pretend date with me so that we can sneak into an ancient Buddhist Temple built within the caldera of a volcano so that we can uncover an ancient and possibly cursed artifact together?” You stared at him in disbelief, but it was taking every ounce of your energy not to burst into laughter. He was such a dork. “I will get down on my knees and ask you again if you don’t answer me.” He got down on his knees and you broke. Laughing, you pulled your hands free, grabbed his arms and tugged.

“Oh my god, get up, Kung Lao.”

“It’s a great cover, Y/N.”

“It is an exactly okay cover. But fine. I haven’t done something terribly embarrassing in a while, so I guess I’m overdue for this.” You agreed at least. He was right. It was a good cover considering this whole place was filled with couples. Besides, if it got Kung Lao to drop the subject then you would be happy to agree. The whole display had made your cheeks burn.

“Embarrassing, huh? Come on, Y/N. It’s not such a bad thing, is it? Could be worse looking guys to end up with, right?” He walked at your side again, making a teasing kissy face and leaning close to you. You leaned away with an awkward and nervous laugh.

“If you keep doing things like that then you are going to get smacked.”

“Worth it.” He held the door open for you and together you left the hotel. Outside a bus waited to take tourists to the shrine for the festival. People were already loading onto it. Kung Lao offered you his hand and you looked to him skeptically. He grabbed your hand anyway and then you walked onto the bus. “You’re going to have to get better at pretending.” You found seats near the back of the bus and even as you sat, he didn’t let go of your hand. You felt incredibly silly. Yet, it also made your heart flutter. As much as you had given him a hard time, you also happened to think it was an incredibly sweet and kind of wholesome idea.

Funny enough, you had thought of this moment before but in a much different context. Maybe in a life where your childhood together hadn’t ended so traumatically. Where you’d stayed close friends and he’d have asked you out when you were old enough. In a way, you felt like a silly schoolgirl, something you hadn’t felt in years.

If he hadn’t died then this was exactly where you would have wound up. Somehow that made you feel much less silly and you finally relaxed. Kung Lao pointed out several interesting things on the side of the road through the window and you listened to him chatter on until the bus was pulling up to the shrine. You waited for the others to get off the bus and then you walked ahead of Kung Lao and stepped off it.

The shrine was huge and it took your breath away.

So much so that it made you dizzy.

A river flowed before you then beneath a red bridge. To the left of the bridge there was a white beach lining the bluest and most artificial-looking water that you had ever seen in your life. Rocks were piled alongside the shore in strange formations. Beyond the bridge there was a stone path that led to the shrine in the distance, and it was lined with old lanterns. You walked to the edge of the stone path where the bus had dropped you off to try and get a better look at the water.

That was a teal color you had never seen before in nature. In your mind’s eye, you recalled your vision and it made your stomach drop. You took a step further and were suddenly grasped around the waist and pulled away from the edge of the stone. Then Kung Lao looped his arm in yours. “You looking to take a dip?”

You hadn’t realized that you had almost walked right into the river. You hadn’t been thinking. The water had bewitched you, it seemed. You needed to get a closer look at it but now that you’d been turned away from it, the feeling had gone. From there you could smell the acidity in the humid air. That was likely why it was so blue. “Pay more attention, okay?”

You weren’t sure what to say to him. It was surreal being there. This place was exactly the same as it had been in your vision but also years, possibly centuries had passed since then. The shrine buildings themselves were much larger than they had been then. They were even a different color. Your head was spinning as you tried to take in everything at once. It was an overload. You grabbed Kung Lao’s arm to try and ground yourself. You felt as though you were floating and the wind would take you away.

Kung Lao led you onto the bridge and at its apex you sat and watched the water trickle beneath it. He helped you lean your elbows against the railing and then placed a supportive hand on your back.

“It’s okay. Take a second.” He seemed to realize that you were having a difficult time. How could you explain that you were struggling to wrap your mind around being in a place where you’d had such a vivid and violent vision? You were grateful for him. Your heart was racing and you watched the water flowing beneath the bridge, over the rocks. Your stomach had dropped. It felt as though you were intimately familiar with this place, as though you had spent years there, but you had never once seen it before. At the same time, everything felt completely new. Your brain was waging war with itself. “You okay?”

“Yeah, this is just… surreal.” You were finally able to collect your thoughts enough to talk.

“You went a bit gray. Figured you needed a minute.”

“I appreciate it.”

“So, where do we go?”

“There’s a well inside one of those buildings.” You nodded to your right where the shrine was at the end of the stone path.

“Vague, but okay.” He peered to the right and then pointed. “It’s off limits.” From there you could see a series of ropes that blocked off the building from visitors. “Great.”

“It’s crowded enough here. I’m sure we can sneak in just fine.”

“Of course.” He leaned next to you on his forearms, hands clasped together. “This place is a little spooky.”

“It is. I read a brochure from the hotel lobby. The monks here believe that it’s the gateway to hell. The river beneath us is supposed to represent the Sanzu.” You pointed below you. It was a little spooky, you supposed, but it was also incredibly beautiful.

“I read about that. I also read that there are holy water bathhouses and volcanic cauldrons with crazy colored water.”

“Yeah, and a lake of blood.”

“I hate that, Y/N.” He stuck his tongue out at the idea. You laughed. He was too funny. He had this way of making you feel at least even about the big and often uncomfortable things sometimes. Other times he drove your anxiety through the roof. Thankfully, this wasn’t one of those moments. “What do you say that we get to sneaking in and find this thing so that we can have a bit of fun for the rest of the day, huh?”

“That sounds nice.”

He took your hand once again and you walked over the bridge and along the stone path. The lanterns were decorated for the festival along with the rest of the shrine. Monks walked about, greeting visitors and answering questions while explaining various attractions. Most visitors, and there were many, were straying from the temple in favor of the white sands or the volcanic cauldrons. You and Kung Lao walked until you reached the ropes before the shrine. You stood there for a time in the shade, waiting for your moment to sneak in unseen.

“Coast is clear,” you whispered and turned to keep watch while Kung Lao snuck into the shrine. Once inside, you waited for your opportunity and followed him. Inside, the building was ancient but to you it seemed oddly brand new. It wasn’t the same shrine that you remembered from your vision. Much had changed since that wicked man had been there.

No one was waiting for you inside the small entryway or in the room beyond. That seemed like the central room, with space for prayer and a dip in the center for dining. The floor was lined with tatami mats and the ceiling was high, windows on the second floor spattering sunlight throughout the room. Halls branched off in each direction and you suddenly felt overwhelmed with choice. It had seemed so much simpler in your vision.

“Lead the way but be cautious. We’re not alone.” Kung Lao spoke in a hushed tone, staying close to you but alert.

“Yeah.” You started through the room and down the closest hallway, checking to see if it was empty first. Kung Lao took your hand and you urged him along with you. Your stomach was in knots and his hand there continued to keep you grounded. Several times you encountered monks going about their business and you had to duck into other rooms or sneak back around corners. You somehow managed to remain unseen, having to huddle together in strange spaces and hide in enclosed areas. It would have been fun had it not been so damn frustrating.

None of it made sense! As you turned down another hall, you sighed in frustration. You’d wound up there twice already. Your gut kept sending you there and back to the central room but there was no indication that it was the same place that the vision had taken place in. Kung Lao suddenly pulled you back into the side room and held you against the wall near the door. There were footsteps in the hall, and you held your breath until they had passed. You made to go back into the hall, but Kung Lao pinned you in place.

“You’re leading us in circles.”

“I know. It’s hard to explain. It’s like someone’s moving everything around while we’re walking. It doesn’t make any sense. I think I’m going one way and then we’re back to where we started.” It was making you sick to your stomach, as a matter of fact.

“You can do this. Just focus.”

“Kung Lao, you have no idea what’s going on in my head right now. I am focusing.”

“You’re right I don’t. So, tell me.”

“I’m not sure that I have the words to explain that the room we’re looking for should be right around the corner but then it isn’t.” It really was disorienting to expect to be in one place and end up in another. “It shouldn’t have been this far back but also this place is ten times bigger than it had been in my vision.”

“I need you to try still.”

You were mixed up. It was like someone was moving rooms in your head and before you knew it, you had once again led him back into the central room which made both you and Kung Lao groan in annoyance.

“Oh good. We’re back. I was worried.”

“It should be right here, but everything looks so different!”

“It’s okay, Y/N. We’ll figure it out.”

“It’s not okay, Kung Lao. It should be right here. I wish I could just show you.” The frustration was radiating off you, you were sure. “I can’t-”

“Is someone there?” A voice from somewhere down the hall called and footsteps approached from a distance.

“Fu…” Kung Lao whispered and then grabbed you and searched for somewhere to hide. The closest hall was too far. You were caught. “Don’t panic.” He urged you to the wall with surprising care and you made a sound of surprise. What did he mean don’t panic? You were instantly panicking. Don’t panic? What was wrong with him? He leaned against you and tilted your chin up and his head toward you like he was going to kiss you, obscuring you both with his hat. “Act natural, Y/N.” His lips brushed against your cheek, just next to your lips. “I swear, you’re terrible at this.” You were stiff as a board, so he had every right to scold you, but also he was pretending to kiss you so what the hell were you supposed to do with that? What was natural in this case?

You gave him a swift but soft punch in the gut and he laughed against your cheek in return. That made you feel a bit better. He lifted his head just enough and you peered toward the door nearby, waiting for the monk that would inevitably kick you out. You could have had time to hide at this rate. Kung Lao’s lips were pressed against your cheek and they were soft even if it was just in a mock kiss close enough to your lips to look like you were sneaking a private moment.

You peered around the corner, thinking maybe you were in the clear. Kung Lao did the same and when you turned back to tell him that maybe the monk had decided to turn away, you found him extremely close to you. Intimately so. His dark eyes were serious and that always scared you for whatever reason. He tilted your chin toward him and all other thoughts slipped out of your brain.

What were you doing there? Where were you anyway? And why? Did it matter?

Not right now it didn’t.

His hand was on your chin, thumb brushing just below your lip, urging your lips to part just enough. You dared not breathe to break the tension of the moment. The sneaking and searching were gone completely from your thoughts. All that was left was the boy that you’d so admired in your youth grown into a handsome man with his hand against the wall at your side, the other inextricably lost below your lower lip.

His eyes were searching you, but you dared not look back into them for fear of what you might find, for fear of what it might reveal to you. His breath warmed your lips before they were on yours, parting them like a blossom in a soft and singular tender movement. A far superior kiss than the one he’d pretended to give you for the sake of saving your skin.

His lips were sweet. Not like sugar or candy, but sweet like the lingering taste of honey at the bottom of a cup of tea. It was a feeling of sweetness rather than a flavor. The moment was still and soft, his lips treasuring yours as though they were something sacred and special. They pulled back just enough from yours that you could feel your lips resisting to part as if they had minds of their own. His eyes were searching you still for answers and in wonder, but you didn’t dare meet them. Yet, you could feel his gaze and beneath your fingertips, that had betrayed you and now rested on his chest, you could feel his heart beating almost as hard as yours.

His breath graced your lips again, but you dared not breathe. You wanted to say something, even just a whisper of his name, but no words would come and you sat there, lips parted in waiting, avoiding his eyes, hand clutching the cloth at his chest, unsure of where you even were or why. This was Kung Lao.

Your Kung Lao.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as they were on yours again, but the softness was gone, though there was something about them that was still sweet even so. The force of his kiss pressed you against the wall, leaving you no escape- not that you wanted to escape. This was a moment that the ten-year-old inside your head had both longed for and not understood. You would have been a fool not to return his kiss, to taste and experience his lips the way that he was with yours and so you did. You kissed him and it was like a storm inside you beyond your control, building with electricity with every moment that passed.

There was a tender moment of acceptance where it felt as though time stood still. The soft moment faded quickly to frenzied desperation. There was no space left between you. Kung Lao was pressed against you, body warm and strong, hat nearly pushed back off of his head as he favored kisses over his possessions. Your hands moved up his chest, to the sides of his neck, fingertips then tangling in the short, messy tendrils of his hair at the base of his hairline. Your heart was doing flips, brain completely turned off to anything that had happened before this, even if somewhere in the distant reaches of your mind you could hear your instincts telling you that you had to stop. Whatever muting effect had been triggered in your brain had seemed to impact Kung Lao as well.

In one swift motion, fluid and strong, his hands were at your thighs and he had lifted you and pressed you against the wall, urging your legs to wrap around him. Your arms slipped naturally around his shoulders, pulling him closer between hot and increasingly sloppy kisses.

“Excuse me?”

Ah, yes. The monk. That was right.

You stopped kissing him.

Kung Lao’s lips finally pulled from yours and you could feel that your own were left slightly swollen from the desperation and passion of those precious few moments. When had you gotten so tangled up in each other? His chest was rising and falling against yours quickly and even though he’d pulled back his lips lingered close to yours as if to consider defying the monk further.

“My apologies.” The monk sounded embarrassed and bowed multiple times. “This area is closed to the public for the festival.”

You finally managed to regain your thoughts and untangled yourself from Kung Lao. You placed your feet on the ground and cleared your throat though your face was likely as red as his robes. He released you from his grip though he made no effort to step away. You swallowed the lump in the back of your throat and forced your brain to work.

“Is it?” You sounded surprised and were grateful that you had. You hadn’t expected to be a very good actor after all that, but you had been surprised to be interrupted and also confused as to where your mind had gone. It was more feigning innocence than lying. The monk nodded and looked as though he sincerely felt bad for interrupting you. “I’m sorry. We had no idea.”

“It’s no worries. I will happily escort you back to the festivities. Follow me.”

“Sorry about that.” Kung Lao, who you had never seen at a loss for words, seemed to finally regain himself. Just like that, he was back to the goof he’d been when you’d first arrived. “We were just sneaking off to have a private moment. Didn’t realize it was off limits.”

“It happens all the time. You’d be surprised.” The monk led you back through the central room and into the entryway. You elbowed Kung Lao as you followed the monk and he laughed beneath his breath. Once outside the monk bowed to you and then left you alone. You leaned your head back and stared into the sunny blue sky with a sigh. You needed a new plan. That one had gone off the rails in a way you hadn’t expected.

#kung lao #mk kung lao #kung lao x reader #liu kang x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #kiss #romance #fluff #mortal kombat 2021 #mortal kombat movie #kung lao x you #kung lao/reader #kung lao/you #max huang #ludi lin #angst

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aurathian · 3 years

Text

Life in a Dead World

My submission for @zelinkweek2021 day 5, prompt Domesticity: Family.

read it here on AO3!

When she gazes at the castle for the first time in one hundred years, when she takes her first good look at it in forever, she sees nothing but despair. Loss. She sees nothing but memories she once held dear, long dead and buried under the rubble. She sees nothing.

He is her guiding hand through this new, foreign world in which she is blind. The way he takes her hand ever so gently and leads her across the stepping stones of the future is comforting, but her steps are uneasy still.

“Zel,” someone calls. “Wake up.” A gentle shake rumbles her shoulder and she turns over to face the voice.

“I’m up,” she manages to say, though hoarsely, and wrenches her eyes open to meet Link’s face. He swipes a finger across her forehead, brushing back stray strands of her sunshine hair. Taking his time studying her face, his blue eyes dart around before settling on her lips. He places a chaste kiss upon them.

Most mornings spent in their house in Hateno Village were like this. She’d be woken up by him saying her name softly, like it’s a prayer, and he’d kiss her before rolling out of bed. He’d make them breakfast, something simple like eggs and rice, and then he would head out to the fields for work. She’d stay curled up inside, reading books on their bed and tinkering with whatever ancient scraps Link found on his adventures.

Zelda doesn’t really like the mornings. The sun rises and casts its bright rays on everything ugly in the world and the daytime forces her to face it. She remembers her last sunrise before the Calamity, though the memory is blurry and faded now. It was a quiet morning when she was sent on her way to the Spring of Wisdom to offer her final prayer to the Goddess Hylia, full of apprehension and fear—fears she fulfilled.

On this day, however, he makes pancakes topped with berries he had picked after work the day before. He serves her orange juice in one of the fancy glasses they reserve for company—though they never get visitors anyway—and sets the table nice, with placemats and flowers in the center.

“What’s the occasion?” she asks, finally lured downstairs by the sweet smells and clattering utensils. Sliding into the chair across from him, she takes up her fork and digs in.

“Nothing special,” he replies nonchalantly with a raise of his brows, but she can feel his gaze on her as he takes a sip of his own juice. Zelda is able to indulge in a few more bites of soft, buttery pancake before he speaks again.

“Will you come into town with me today?” he requests, his hand drifting across the table to gingerly grasp hers.

“That’s what the occasion is, then,” she mumbles bitterly. Her appetite is lost and she sets the fork down. “You know I can’t.”

The few times she stepped foot into Hateno Village, the few times she saw the faces of the men and women and children walking through town and living, she turned around and went back to their house on the edge of the village. Link would follow suit some time later and find her gripping the photo of them and the Champions, staining its glass cover with tears.

The village is bright and lively. He tries to make her see the good, but she is blinded by memories.

“Why not?” he prods, taking a step into where he’d never dared to go before, opening the door to her heart just a little more.

“You know why.” Her voice is shaky now. “When I look at them—when I see their faces, they… they remind me of the people I killed all those years ago.”

“You didn’t kill anyone.” His tone is the opposite of hers; certain and sure, and his foot is planted steady in the doorway now. Though his memories are few, they are vivid with color and life and they feel real each time he relives them, whether in his dreams or by traveling to the places he uncovered them in the first place.

“Killing isn’t just about who you strike with your blade, Link,” she scolds. “It’s about what you fail to do that causes their deaths.” Her hands rest now in her lap, leaving his empty and open atop the table. “In my case, I failed to awaken my power in time.”

“But they’re not the people you killed.”

“They look like ordinary citizens. People, innocent people, going about their lives. The very people affected by my incompetence.”

“But—”

“There is no reason for me to go into the village anyway.”

Link sits back in his chair. “Why?” he breathes. The door is closing and he’s fighting to keep it open now.

“Hyrule is dead,” Zelda says plainly. “It died long ago, with all those people. When I looked upon the castle, when we were traveling back here through ruin after ruin, I saw no life.”

“There’s life right outside our house,” he counters.

“We have experienced two different kingdoms, Link.” She stands from her chair and wanders to the stairs, fingers lingering over the banister. “You do not remember my Hyrule. In comparison, this land is dead.” The conversation is over. She walks up the stairs without a word and he can hear her shuffle into bed. Then, it’s silent.

—

He tries again the next morning. This time, he coaxes her outside with the promise of a morning spent picking the flowers growing in their yard. It’s peaceful and they can’t hear the sounds of Hateno Village from their quaint house across the bridge, and he watches her face as she plucks the white flowers from the ground. Her eyes are lidded and mouth curved into a small smile.

He wishes he could show those grass green eyes the beauty of the Hyrule he knows, from its snowy mountaintops to its humid jungles; wishes she could meet the people who helped him along his journey, the people he considers Champions of this new age.

When he’s accrued plenty of flowers in his basket, he calls out to her, “Hey Zel, come here!”

She crawls over, bringing her own basket alongside her. “What?”

“What do you want to do with all these flowers?”

She hums, then says, “I don’t know.” Pulling one out of her basket, she twirls it around by the stem.

“I was thinking we could go into the village and give them to the children,” he offers, standing up and holding out his hand.

“Is that what this was all about?”

“Well…”

She scowls, taking her basket and marching toward the house. He winces as the front door slams shut behind her.

Link, however, is persistent, and if he has anything, it’s the audacity. Every day he tries something new to get her to go into the village with him—getting water from the river, buying a new dress, even visiting Purah at the lab—but each attempt is turned down by her.

“I can do my own research right here from my bed,” she argues when he suggests visiting Purah. Never in his lifetime did he think he would witness Princess Zelda of Hyrule, ancient Sheikah tech extraordinaire and science nerd, turn down an opportunity to go study at a laboratory.

Then, one day, something strange happens. He leaves the house to go work in the fields like usual, bringing along a pitchfork and his lunch. He lets Zelda stay in the house to eat her breakfast and read her books. As he’s walking down the trail from his house, over the bridge and into the new developments that continue to creep ever closer to them, a hand grabs his sleeve.

“Zelda?” he asks when he sees her. “But I thought…”

“I don’t appreciate how often you tried to trick me,” she interjects, “but I did some thinking, and I want to try.”

He’s looking at her like she’s crazy, one eyebrow up and his mouth popped open.

“Please?” she begs.

Taking her hand into his, he nods, and together they walk into the village.

—

Zelda finds a comfortable spot on the edge of the well, legs dangling off the side and face shielded from the bright sun. She sits there, watching the children of the village run around and play, swinging at each other with sticks and throwing pebbles, while Link is off working in one of the farm fields. There are women behind the well gossiping a little loudly for her liking, but after a few hours she manages to tune them out.

One of the children approaches her grinning, missing teeth and all. Zelda’s world stops for a moment, forced to recall the faces of the children she aided in killing. She remembers running through Kakariko Village, drenched and dirty, and seeing the agonizing faces of the village youth while she desperately searched for Impa. She remembers the bodies—Goddesses, the bodies—both young and old, strewn across the cobblestone streets of Castle Town. Of all the memories she can visualize the best, it has to be that one.

“Hello, miss,” the child greets with a slight lisp.

Her world unpauses and she swallows hard, forcing herself to look into the child’s eyes. “Hello,” she replies.

“What’s your name? I’ve never seen you before.” There’s a booger under the child’s nose and a leaf in his hair.

“My name is Zelda.”

She’s staring at this child she’s never met before, with his big round eyes and missing teeth, and she pays special attention to the sound of his breath and the rise and fall of his chest. This child is alive, she knows, yet she can’t help but think of all the children whose blood stains her hands.

“Woah!” His eyes widen and his mouth drops open in shock. “Like the princess?”

“I suppose,” she sighs. In reality, she hates the title. It stings like a thorn even when it’s just an echo inside her head. Hearing the word forces her to recall the countless tales and rumors spread about her through the castle halls one hundred years ago, of her failures and incompetence.

“My mom has told me all sorts of stories about the princess! Like how pretty and nice she was.” Scowling, he crosses his arms. “Though my mom wasn’t alive then, so I don’t know how she knows that.”

“What are some other stories she’s told you?” Zelda raises a brow and leans in curiously. Does her memory survive on a different breath in this new Hyrule? For all intents and purposes, she doesn’t recognize herself from one hundred years ago as truly her. When people speak of the princess, they speak of a woman long dead.

“I don’t remember all of them, but she’s behind the well you’re sitting on. You could ask her.”

She glances back and winces. “Um, I think I’d rather have you tell me.” Zelda hops off the edge of the well and kneels down in front of the child. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Nebb,” he says. “Say, I don’t remember much about the princess, but I can tell you about this one guy I know.”

“Sure,” she replies, sitting on the ground next to Nebb.

“There was this traveler who came by our village a lot,” he begins, “and I asked him to show me a ton of weapons! I don’t know how he was able to find all of them, though. I think he lives in the old house outside of town.”

Zelda hums, resting her head in her hands. She thinks of Link, of the various weapons on display in their house, and there’s no doubt in her mind that she knows exactly who Nebb is talking about.

“I might know him,” she says.

“Really?” Nebb shouts. “He’s so cool, isn’t he? I’ve seen him totally demolish the Bokoblins that come too close to the village before.”

“He’s very cool,” she agrees, trailing off as a little girl approaches them. “And who is this?”

“I’m Narah!” says the little girl. “This is my brother.” She gestures to Nebb and he groans before running away to go play.

“Well, Narah, I’m Zelda.”

“I like to talk,” Narah states. “Ask me some questions!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one asking them.”

Zelda can’t help but laugh. It’s a bright and healthy laugh, one that enraptures Link as he approaches her, sweaty from a day in the field.

“Someone’s enjoying herself,” he chuckles, helping Zelda stand from the ground. Narah gets bored with the attention no longer on her and chases after her brother.

“The children are very sweet,” Zelda admits. “Apparently people share stories about me.”

“They do,” he says. “They’re nothing like the stories you heard all those years ago.”

“What do you mean?”

Her steps as they walk back to the house are more confident, and her grip on his hand is sure.

“I know how people talked about you back then, Zelda. I figured it out through my memories.” He pushes the door open for her, setting his pitchfork against the outside wall before stepping inside. “But these people… they look up to you. You’re a beacon of light to them.”

“But I didn’t do the one thing I was supposed to,” she argues. “They don’t look up to me. They look up to the princess of a century ago.”

“They know you as that princess—that princess who valiantly sacrificed herself to the Calamity to prevent it from reaching their homes. You are what kept Hyrule alive all this time.”

“I’m not a princess anymore,” she mumbles, climbing up the stairs. “It’s just Zelda now. Besides, they don’t even know I’m her. We are two different people now, Link.”

He says nothing, only steps up to the kitchen counter and rummages through the cupboard.

“What do you want for dinner?”

—

She ventures into Hateno Village with him every day now, sitting at her usual spot along the edge of the well and talking to the village children. They are healing, she finds, with their wide smiles and innocent, naive eyes. After some days, she starts playing with them, chasing them around the village and tossing balls back and forth.

She would give anything to go back in time and have the childhoods they have. To frolic in the outdoors, to have both parents, to play and wish and dream and be a child. If Zelda wasn’t so wary of the statues of the Goddess Hylia, she would pray at them once more, pray for a real childhood.

One day, she finally talks to the mothers behind the well. Or, rather, they talk to her.

“Miss,” one of them prods, “why do you come watch our children everyday?”

“Oh, um.” Zelda fiddles with her fingers. “They’re very sweet.”

The women exchange strange glances. “You’re not trying to snatch up my little boy, are you?”

“No! Of course not, no,” Zelda hastily replies. “Nebb introduced himself to me. I enjoy playing with the children.”

The women still aren’t satisfied, and she can tell, so she asks, “What’s it like to be a mother?”

“Oh, it’s something, alright,” the woman with her brown hair tied up groans. “Every day is a struggle. Wake up, get ready, yes, you do have to finish all your veggies!”

Zelda smiles a little but wonders if it is really so much of a struggle to gossip behind the well every day.

“But there are times where I relish it,” the other one pipes up. “My children gave me a purpose when I had none.” A dreamy look casts itself upon her eyes. “They are my pride and joy, as difficult as they can be. My guiding lights, so to speak.”

And something clicks inside Zelda’s mind.

Link picks her up again at the well, sweaty and hot and tired as he normally is after a long day of moving hay and harvesting crops, and as they walk over the bridge to their house she stops him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looks over to her, frowning with concern.

“Link, I want a child,” she states, and his jaw drops.

Normally, he would try to keep her out of bed for as long as possible. That night, however, he wastes no time in helping her into it.

And so their life continues on exactly like that—days spent working or playing with the village children, rubbing her belly in the hopes she may have one too, nights spent panting in bed, kissing, hot and sweaty and intimate. They’re not strangers to making love, but they are new to doing so with a purpose.

Zelda is suspicious when she misses her period, but what solidifies her hypothesis is when she wakes up one morning with a sick feeling in her stomach before leaping out of bed and rushing outside to dispose of last night’s dinner all over the grass. Link awakens only moments later, finding her outside hunched over and gripping one of the house’s posts. He holds her hair back while she retches some more.

“Zelda…?”

She can only look back at him and smile, nearly laughing with joy, before jumping up to hug him.

“I still don’t get it,” he says while she peppers kisses all over his face.

“Link, I missed my period a while ago,” she explains, finding her footing on the grass. “And feeling sick in the morning, throwing up… do you not know what it means?”

His face contorts in thought, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched. His blue eyes drift off to something in the distance as he racks his brain for a possible conclusion.

Zelda whispers into the ear of her lover, “I’m pregnant.”

She can’t see his face light up because he hugs her so tight she’s struggling to breathe, but she lets it happen. Her wish, her one prayer she had ever bothered to offer to the Goddess after the defeat of the Calamity, comes true.

—

The nine months go by like a breeze, her bump growing week by week, having to stay home and rest more often because of it, but she’s happy. She spends her evenings in the rocking chair Link constructed for her, singing to her belly as she rubs it with her soft hands. Her cravings get weirder, too. One week, she’s asking for delicious fruitcake, and the next, she’s asking for soup but instead of meat, it’s monster parts.

Still, Link obliges, going out and picking (or slaying) whatever he needs to to satisfy her. Eventually, the doctor they visit in the village has to start coming to them when it becomes too backbreaking for Zelda to walk, and by some will of the Goddess, the doctor is present when she goes into labor on a rainy autumn morning.

Even as she’s pushing and screaming and grunting, Zelda thinks Hylia must be apologizing, because according to the doctor, it was one of the easiest deliveries he’s ever assisted with. He hands Zelda her baby, wailing and wriggling, small and pale, with a head of soft, thin hair, colored like Link’s. The doctor leaves them alone, lingering downstairs in case anything else needs to be done.

Link kneels by the bedside, watching as Zelda coos at the baby and pokes at her tiny hands. “What will we name her?” she asks him.

“Do you have any ideas?”

She hums, but her eyes never leave the baby. “I would like to name her Impa,” she says.

“I think that’s a great name.” His voice is a whisper now, quiet and hushed as he marvels at the sight of Zelda and their child, and for the first time in a long while, his beloved’s green eyes shine once more.

She smiles down at her baby, because even in a Hyrule she thought long dead, new life still prospers.

#zelink week 2021 #zelink #botw #zelda #link #breath of the wild

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theladyismyshepard · 3 years

Text

Mother Miranda

#7 prompt fill — Betrayal (Myra)

(Anonymous with a dream, you’re next)

The sun was at its highest peak in the sky, and unleashed its powerful rays upon every inch of the earth. It warmed your skin from the usual chill that lingered throughout the castle, making it feel like winter year round. The Dimitrescu family might be comfortable, but you needed the occasional reprieve that only straight sunlight could provide.

So there you were, sprawled along the grass of the courtyard, your fingers interlocked behind your head as support. Your eyes stared up at the clouds that idly floated away, but after a moment, they went unseen as your focus blurred and shifted to the way your morning had went so far.

A smile slowly twisted the edges of your lips upward, and you didn't fight it. You awoke to red hair in your line of vision, and became acutely aware of the lips peppering the column of your throat with kisses. You had to swallow the dryness from your mouth, and as you did, you felt her smile against your skin before she gently bit down, not even hard enough to bruise.

"Someone's in a good mood," you mumbled, still shaking off the layer of sleep that had you in a haze.

"That is every morning with you." said Myra easily, as if she were speaking of the weather.

You felt your heart pumping wildly in response, and as you briefly wondered if she could hear it, she answered in kind by grazing her fingertips across your chest before sprawling them out and lying her palm flat to your heart.

"Well then tell me what I can do to help keep up this good mood. What do you want to do today?" you asked kindly, nudging against her until she got the hint and rolled over to allow you to hover over her.

"Actually," started Myra, her face already morphing into apologetic. "Mother wants to speak with my sisters and I today. I must be going soon, but I couldn't resist."

You puffed out a small "oh", a little disappointed, but you quickly recovered, giving Myra a reassuring smile before surging forward and connecting your lips in a searing kiss, soothing the line forming between her eyebrows.

"I think I might get me some sunlight today then." you decided, nodding once for emphasis.

"Come find me after," she demanded, pulling you close by the front of your shirt to give one last kiss.

She rolled you off of her, and donned her hooded robe before taking her leave to undoubtedly collect her sisters for the meeting with Lady Dimitrescu. That was how you found yourself sunbathing in the courtyard. The warmth that tingled the top layer of your skin was easing you into alertness, warding off the sleep that left traces throughout your body. Although a thundering crash gave you an extra jolt.

You bolted upright, neck already craned in the direction of the disturbance. A crease formed between your brow when you recognized that the sound had come from Lady Dimitrescu’s office. Dread had you rooted to the spot as you eyed the window, expecting the worst.

You had been given free reign of the castle, but you do have the common sense to know that it is disrespectful to eavesdrop, and Lady Dimitrescu prides herself of her poise and respect. The occupants of the castle were expected to hold the same morals (though Daniela struggles). You knew you should wait and let someone explain when the meeting was done, but the crash was too violent to not respond to out of mere reflex.

You kept your footing light despite knowing they are aware of your presence by your scent and heartbeat alone, and crept along the courtyard until you found yourself ducked beneath the window sill outside of the office. You were uncertain if you had already been caught, but the conversation at hand must have been more dire than originally thought because after a moment, you remained undetected.

“To hell with the ceremony!”

It was so shrill that your brows couldn’t help but to disappear into your hairline. There was venom lacing every syllable of the shriek, and while you were no stranger to fury echoing down the corridors, you hardly heard such harshness come from Myra’s mouth. The silence of the room led you to believe that the other occupants were as stunned as you were.

“Myra-”

“No!”

You had to swallow down the gasp that bubbled in your throat, your hand thrown over your mouth as an added precaution. It was one thing for Myra to lash out, but to outright talk back to Lady Dimitrescu was something that seemed forbidden. If the two sharp intakes of breath that immediately followed were anything to go by, the sisters knew so as well.

“I am well aware that emotion is clouding your perception right now, but you do not ever raise your voice to me.” warned Alcina, her tone clipped.

There was a pause, and you could practically see Myra’s calculating nature taking over in your mind’s eye. The brief silence allowed for her mother to continue.

“As you are well aware, we cannot afford to cross Mother Miranda, especially when your fool uncle already has her on edge with his own mistakes... The ceremony must happen."

You had heard about a man named Ethan Winters evading Heisenberg, and while you didn’t understand the exact severity of it, you knew it was stirring trouble within the castle. It brought enough hesitancy to even have Alcina tentative to call Mother Miranda. What you were wracking your brain over was the ceremony that had prompted this argument. What had Myra so heated?

"Is there really no one else that will do?"

When people speak, you have always listened to the tones more so than the actual words, so you didn't miss the underlining desperation when Andromeda whispered.

What the hell's going on?

"No... I truly am sorry, Myra, it might not seem like I care, but it pains me greatly to have to take away your pet. Mother Miranda chose your human specifically."

You had long since gotten over being referred to as "pet" in the third-person by the Lady, but is she really to just discard of you as such? Your face went slack as it couldn't comprehend which emotion to show first. There was hurt, there was anger, there was fear, and it was coursing through your veins, pumping into your heart. Please don't hear me.

"Yes, mother,"

Betrayal.

There was no emotion in Myra's voice. It was a solid deadpan, and somehow you were able to hear everything she wasn't conveying to Alcina. You know Myra doesn't want to let you go, you know she isn’t allowed to have you lingering around... but you’re still going to be taken away for this ritual for Mother Miranda.

You thought you were something special to these women after your loyalty and adoration for Myra had you squeezing into the family. You thought you had solidified something... but you didn’t, and you wouldn’t mean anything after time had eased you from their memories, something to be forgotten.

This is what I get for eavesdropping, I suppose.

You began to lose your inhibitions as nothing really mattered to you in that moment — Remaining unseen, going unheard, you had no care, not when it appeared as though you were on borrowed time as it was. You gazed back up at the clouds idly floating by and realized that although your world felt as though it was at a standstill, reality would continue on with or without you.

All thoughts of sunbathing had drifted from your mind as you wandered towards the gate at the edge of the property. The exit was just within your sight, and you could run before they thought to chase after you...

Myra.

You turned back to Castle Dimitrescu, a war raging inside of you. You had nowhere else to turn to, and honestly... where could you run? Who could possibly hide you when Mother Miranda had her eyes set on you? It all felt unfair, but you suppose it was bound to happen when you fell in love with a woman whose family’s basement had enough standing blood that it submerged to the calf.

You always wondered when it would be your turn to hang from the ceiling down below, and it came a lot sooner than you had prepared for. You sighed so heavily that it had you closing your eyes. What were you supposed to do now? You could only stand there aimlessly, no real purpose driving you forward.

But you suppose you should start walking back, but suddenly it took everything in you to slowly inch forward, step by step. You had never appreciated walking before... breathing in fresh air... living.

The castle door swung open to reveal none other than the woman who occupied your entire mind. Her back was stiff and she couldn’t keep her hands still. As you approached, you stilled them. Her eyes locked onto yours and there was so much screaming inside of them that she didn’t even need to open her mouth.

“Where to now, hun?”

Her lips set into a hard line, but you know by now that that was her tell when she was about to cry; Her chin always wobbled when she couldn’t contain it anymore.

“We... we are throwing a party.” whispered Myra.

“Oh?” you acted surprised. “When is it?”

She stared down at her feet as she said, “Tonight.”

Your breath was stolen from you, almost like she punched you square in the gut. How could they? That quick? As if you never meant anything at all... You gulped.

“That short notice, eh?” The tremble was getting harder to hide. “What are we waiting for? Can’t keep everyone waiting — speaking of! Who’ll be coming?”

“Only the most important people,” deadpanned Myra, showing no enthusiasm. “Let’s ... get this over with.”

The smile you plastered on was all wrong, it didn’t feel right on your face; completely uncomfortable. The curves were too forced to slip into genuine and natural. Just get it over with... like a bandaid.

You wanted her to fight, wanted her to be angry, wanted her to feel as lost as you, but the emotionless mask she was wearing had you feeling betrayed. She accepted this so easily... she could find a replacement for you before the ceremony was even over.

“Let’s get it over with.”

***

All traces of sunlight were erased from the sky as the moon blanketed darkness across the land. The hours had flown by before you could really blink even, and you were left wondering where the time went.

You and Myra had met up with Daniela and Andromeda inside the castle, and you found that they didn’t have much to say either. However, all three stared you down the entire day. You could feel their eyes boring into you throughout preparing you for the ceremony... no one else had a dress code it seemed. Your white robe contrasted against their black ones, making you stand out as you stood among them.

Myra had offered to bring you a tray full of food, any kind you wanted, but the knots in your stomach couldn’t uncurl enough to allow you to eat a single bite. Your heart dropped even further when you saw her face fall when you denied.

She’s the one doing this to you. To us.

You hardened, pressing on through the day, and before you knew it, you found yourself sitting with the sisters in Myra’s bedroom, just waiting as your time was dwindling. Soon, you could hear Lady Dimitrescu’s heels clacking down the staircase and to the door when there was a sharp rap. One glance out the window and you see that night had fallen.

Myra had become hyper aware of that fact as well, and the nervous energy she held just below the surface was oozing out in waves. Daniela and Andromeda hovered, obviously on edge themselves, but the eldest sister was shooing them away once she noticed you had started trembling.

“My love,” Myra whispered, reaching for your hand. You flinched. “You shouldn’t eavesdrop.”

Your eyes connect, and it was the softest you had ever really seen them. Your vision blurred, and you didn’t even try to stop the tears as they clung to your lashes before you blinked and they spilled down your cheeks, leaving tracks. You gave her a smile that wobbled.

“What’re you gonna do? Kill me?”

The soft smile you’ve come to love waking up to was gone too quick for your liking, and you briefly wondered if that was the last time you’d get to see it. You were seated on the foot of your shared bed, Myra standing before you. You accepted the hands that cupped the back of your neck and the side of your throat, reeling you in.

“I have to do this, please.” The first tear broke free, and you reached up to brush it away with your thumb.

“I know,”

Teeth embedded themselves into your neck, and you couldn’t help the yelp of pain as you felt your flesh tear away. A hiss escaped you as you felt suction, and while you could kind of get into it when the moment is heated, this felt different, wrong.

You felt lightheaded from your blood rushing, but you also burned from the inside out. You’d tear into your own skin if Myra wasn’t holding onto you with a death grip. Your throat stung as well and only then did you realize that your hiss had turned into a scream.

You felt sick to your stomach, but you could tell it was your organs failing you. You could barely keep your eyes open, too weak to fight against the heaviness of your eyelids. You weren’t even aware that she was leaning you back against the bed. You weren’t aware of your blood adding color to your white robe and spilling out into your bedsheets. You weren’t aware of the tears adding wetness to your neck. You merely closed your eyes and accepted the darkness creeping into the edges of your vision.

...

Until you bolted upright in bed, sending Myra toppling back onto the floor. There was a burning sensation in your throat that left you with a haze settled around your brain, unable to focus on anything else.

Not the oxygen that you didn’t require, not the change of your iris color, not even your heightened sense of smell.

A hand cupped your chin, forcing you to look up, and you met worried eyes. She had never looked more beautiful, and you told her as much, relishing in that megawatt smile that you thought you had lost.

“I will never let anyone take you away from me.” Myra vowed, leaving you floored.

Oh how easily you had doubted her love for you before. You felt so foolish for second guessing her now that you stood there, completely reformed for her, by her. You had felt so weighed down by being betrayed that your body completely bounced back and had you feeling ten times lighter.

“Not even Mother Miranda?” You pushed, though you couldn’t rid yourself of your grin.

“Did I not just prove to you that not even Mother Miranda can take my pet away?” she asked, attempting to sound oh so innocently.

“You’re a little brat.”

Before she could get a word in, you pulled her closer to you, capturing her lips into a searing kiss. Nothing seemed impossible or scary in that moment. Not even the notorious Mother Miranda waiting downstairs could stir fear into you. You had eternity to face her after all.

“I love you, you know?”

Myra smiled softly before pulling you into a hug, tucking her face into your neck. A gentle kiss was placed upon the bite mark that turned you.

“You have forever to tell me, now.”

#resident evil 8 #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu's daughters headcanons #lady dimitrescu's daughters #lady dimitrescu’s daughters x reader #Myra #prompt fill #daniela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #mother miranda #lady alcina dimitrescu

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emma-nation · 3 years

Text

The Devil In I - Bela x OC (Resident Evil Village AU)

“Step inside, see the Devil in I”

Summary: Aleena Novak is a 19 years old orphan who desired more than living in a village in the middle of nowhere. A talented artist with a big future ahead, she gets the scholarship of her dreams in United States. But everything changes when her twin brother, Auryk, steals an important artifact from Castle Dimitrescu.

In this adventure, Aleena will find way more than she expected.

“You’ll realize I’m not your Devil anymore”

Pairing: Bela Dimitrescu x OC

Genre: Between T and M (Trigger warning for violence, blood, abuse and eventual smut)

Tag List: @nydeiri

Notes: This is my first RES fic, so I'm sorry if I mess it up a bit. English is also not my main language, so a mistake or two may happen. I hope you enjoy it :)

Trigger Warning: Language, abuse, blood and violence.

Eastern Europe - July, 2009

"If he could learn to love another and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?"

Mother closed the book, placing it on the bedside table between Auryk's bed and mine. Then, she lowered herself and kissed my forehead like she did every night. Her long, blonde hair tickled my face and left a trace of her sweet lavender fragrance in the air. I giggled.

"Good night, sweetheart," she spoke.

"Good night, momma."

"Cherish your last night as a six years old. Tomorrow you will become a..."

"Princess?!"

"A seven years old girl. The prettiest girl in the village."

"Pffft," Auryk let out a displeased grunt from his bed, covering his head with the pillow to avoid listening another word from the conversation.

"And you too," mother sat by his side on the bed and repeated her nightly ritual of kissing his forehead to wish him a good night too. "You'll become the most handsome and brave warrior in this village. Do you understand?"

"I hope so. Good night, mom."

"Good night, buddy."

Mother left the room, leaving us both in the dark. However, we couldn't sleep. Not because we were thrilled about our incoming birthday party as any regular child, but because we knew our lives were about to change. Seven years old was the age every child from our village was introduced to the truth and started being trained to fight the evil that haunted our lands. Auryk and I spent minutes, or maybe hours, in silence, staring at the ceiling.

"Leena?" He was the first one to speak. "Do you believe a spell can broken? I mean, like a curse?"

"I don't know, Ryk," I answered, feeling my thoughts starting to drift away. "Maybe we're doomed after all. Or... we could learn how to love the beasts."

The birthday parties always happened during the daytime, rules of the village. We could no longer be outside after 6 PM. Mother got help from the other women to prepare the treats and organize the decorations. Auryk was disguised as a pirate and I... I was Belle, from the Beauty and the Beast.

"So, what do you think you will be getting this year?" My best friend Elena asked while we were playing with our dolls. She was about two years older than us.

"I don't know," I shrugged. Being a merchant, my father always returned home with the most unusual gifts: a magical music box, a voodoo doll that had a life on its own or a fragrance that chased away the monsters - and everybody else too. "A new book. I'm hoping for a new book."

It was only by the end of the party Adrian Novak made his entrance. That was the mystery about him. Nobody knew when he would show up, or if he would show up at all. He still had that same annoying smirk on his face. The corner of his mouth holding a cigarette. The months away made his beard grow longer, as well as his dark hair. In the sunlight, the scar above his eye was even more visible.

"Auryk," he shouted, "come here, son. I've got something for ya."

My twin brother, who had been climbing trees with his friends stop frozen in spot for a second. I couldn't tell if he hated or feared that man. Maybe both. He slowly followed father's command, approaching him cautiously.

"Hi, dad."

"Happy birthday, son," father ruffled his dark straight hair with his strong and calloused hand. "It's about time you grow up."

He handed my brother a large package. From our experience, we knew exactly what it was, a shotgun.

"T-Thank you, dad."

"I'll be spending some time at home. Tomorrow we'll start practicing."

Auryk consented. He shot me a quick glance. From our twin bond I could tell my brother was far from happy. When he blew his candles that afternoon, he didn't wish for a weapon. We wished to be a normal child.

"What did you get, Leena?" He asked once we were locked in the safety of our bedroom.

"Pencils and a drawing book. Dad thinks I'm talented."

Not really. Adrian Novak would never allow his daughter to hold a shotgun. That was, according to him, 'a man thing'.

"Good, at least one of us got what they wanted. Happy birthday, sister."

"Happy birthday, brother."

4 Years Later - October, 2013

It wasn't easy to be the weakest of the twins. Although he was born first, Auryk was the tinniest. The one who was always getting sick or getting injured. The one who couldn't hit a single fucking target when he had the alcoholic breath of his father on his neck.

He aimed for a crow, sitting still on a fence. How hard could it be? Even the eldest man from the village could do any better than that.

BANG! He shot again. And missed.

"Again?!" Adrian angered, shoving him hard on the shoulder. "What the hell is your problem, kid?"

"I don't know, okay? This gun... it's heavy!"

"Heavy? And why do you think we've been exercising for all these years, huh?! We do not live in Disneyland, Auryk. We need to fight monsters, abominations. Someday I won't be home and you need to be prepared to protect our people. Do you understand?"

Tears started forming in the corners of the boy's blue eyes. He couldn't cry. Not in front of him. Crying was a sign of weakness and he couldn't be weak. Not right now. Auryk started to think about all the things he could be doing. He thought about the ocean, as he had seen on TV and books. He could feel the warmness of the sun on his skin. The sand between his toes. His mom and sister were also there, of course - they'd carry them with him everywhere. And he would study Math and Physics. There would be no guns, no monsters, no blood, only numbers, only formulas, only theories. He smiled. He no longer felt like crying.

"I'm sorry, dad," kindness was always the answer, his mother said. "But this isn't for me, you know? I don't like it. I... Remember that boarding school my teacher mentioned? I thought maybe I..."

His words were interrupted by a hard slap on his face. Auryk could taste a small amount of blood coming out from his lower lip.

"So that's what you want? To become one of those little fancy fags? Maybe you're not my son after all."

Adrian started walking away, leaving his son alone, sitting on the floor.

"I AM!" Auryk yelled, enraged. "I am your son."

"Then prove it."

"You shouldn't take so hard on him," Savannah poured her husband a cup of tea. "He's just a boy."

"He's eleven years old, for god's sake," the husband punched the table strong enough to make it shake. "He needs to man up a bit. You should stop spoiling him."

As I left my bedroom I found my brother sitting on the stairs. He didn't have to be so close to listen to the conversation between our parents, father's voice was loud enough to echo through every wall of our small and cozy home.

I sat down by his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Maybe you should do it, Leena. You'd do it better, I know."

"I'm not so sure. Remember when I tried to shoot a scarecrow and almost shot that old witch?"

"Come on, you aimed on purpose! I know."

Auryk finally let out a small laugh at the memory.

"You're good at everything, Leena," he spoke fondly. "You're an extrovert, you're everybody's friend, you can cook, you can draw and paint... you're a true artist. I'm a mistake."

"You're not a mistake, Ryk," I pulled my brother closer, resting my cheek against the side of his face. "We're only at the wrong place and you know it."

Going back to our bedroom, we pulled from the drawers the postcards our grandma Louise sent us from San Diego. Mom had been born in California and lived there her entire life, until she met father during one of his trips. God knows what made her fall in love with that man. Adventure? Danger? I expected better from myself when I turned eighteen. Otherwise, I'd never want to fall in love. Love could be my ruin, just like my mom's.

"Leena..." Auryk held the postcard tightly, "do you think... if he died... do you think mom would take us to nana's home?"

"I don't know, Ryk," I didn't want to think of my father's possible death. But I also dreamed of a better life. "Maybe."

"What the hell?" Father's voice in the kitchen made me jump in fear. I knew that tone. I grew up used to that. Something was wrong in the village. We had to hide.

"To the basement, now!" He emerged at the bedroom, holding a rifle. "Lycans were seen surrounding the area."

We barely had any time to react, mom came and dragged us both to the basement. Father left, carrying his arsenal of weapons as usual. There were other hunters in the village but we always knew how badly it could end. Somebody could always get seriously hurt. Or worse.

The basement had been carefully prepared for that kind of situation years before. It had a big bed, two armchairs, a heating source, some stored food and a shelf. Mom sighed and forced a smile.

"So," she walked to the shelf, "what is it going to be today?"

"Frankenstein," Auryk suggested. My brother loved mystery and horror. As if his life hadn't enough of it.

"Romeo and Juliet," I spoke. There was something about forbidden romance that always caught my interest.

"Okay. I... I'm gonna say a prayer and you two can read the books you picked by yourselves. What do you think?"

"Great!"

Mom kneeled down by the bed's side, holding a crucifix. I could join her if I wanted to, but I'd rather watch in silence. I grabbed my book, sitting on one of the armchairs and pretending to pay attention, while I tried to distract myself from the fact my father could be the Lycans' next prey. Or all of us, if they managed to break into our house.

"Leena?" I woke up hours later with my mom shaking me. "Leena?! Where's Auryk? Where's your brother, Leena?"

I had no idea. I had fallen asleep and apparently, so did mom. She checked for the basement's door, it had been locked from outside.

"No..." she tried to force it open. "No! I can't be..."

All Auryk had to do was to successfully kill and take a Lycan's carcass as a trophy to his father, right? That was what that old douchebag wanted him to do, to prove his courage, his manhood. We had his shotgun, a binoculars and a knife, that should be enough, but first, he needed a good plan.

Looking down to his hands, he had the most perfect idea. Without thinking twice, he sliced a cut through his palm, letting some blood pour on the ground. Then, he found a tall tree. He climbed it and observed. The smell of blood his trail left behind should be enough to attract a creature.

"Come on... come on..."

From a distance, Auryk could hear the sound of destruction and death. There was a battle going on somewhere nearby. Once again Lycans should have found a family or a group of hunters.

And then, he could hear it. The heavy footsteps, the screeching sounds, the sniffing. The mutant creature was only a few meters away from the tree. He aimed, but it was still too distant. He needed to move to a closer branch.

It all happened in one second. He was almost there, reaching for the spot he had picked, but his weight was too much for the tree's branch. In a blink of an eye, he was lying on the ground. His vision was blurred. His head hurt intensely, as well as his arm. It was broken for sure. He possibly had a concussion too. He tried to stand up and run but his legs wouldn't follow his commands. The Lycan was coming straight at him.

"AURYK!" His mother screamed behind him. "NO!"

Time seemed to freeze in that fraction of second. How did she manage to escape the basement? How could she have found him?

But without hesitation, Savannah threw herself on top of her son, protecting him from the jaws and claws of the monster. Auryk couldn't see much, but he could smell it. He could feel it. Blood. There was blood everywhere. He couldn't tell who it belonged to, he or his mom's.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A fast sequence of shots suggested the hunters had found them. The creature stopped moving, stopped howling. It was finally dead.

"M-Mom... it's dead. We... We're safe."

She didn't answer. Instead, he heard another familiar voice.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!" It was from his father. "Savannah! Savannah!"

"D-Dad..." Auryk tried to speak, but the words got lost along the way. "I... I..."

Adrian lifted him by his jacket, holding him inches above the ground.

"YOU KILLED HER! YOU KILLED YOUR MOM, YOUR STUPID BASTARD!"

"I..." tears streamed down the boy's face, his injured brain trying to process what had just happened. "I'm sorry.'

After he was thrown back to the ground, he was hit with a hard kick on his stomach. He turned his head around to notice a small figure hiding behind a tree, watching the whole scene in pure horror.

"L-Leena..." he muttered.

"This is all your fault, Auryk. You're a disgrace to this family."

And then, he passed out. Rumors said he was unconscious for days or maybe weeks. When he woke up, he wished everything had been a nightmare.

Present Days - July, 2021

Nobody mourned Adrian Novak when he died. Not his children. Not his village mates. No human being would ever feel any sympathy for a man who abused and blamed his eleven years old son for his mother's death. It had been two years since Adrian left this world and I couldn't feel any more free.

"Hey," I left another message on my brother's voicemail, "in case you've forgotten it's our birthday today. I'd like to have my twin home, you know? Call me when you get this message."

It was useless, I knew. Auryk would only pick up his phone when he wanted to. Or when he was too drunk. God knew where that guy would be at that time, probably waking up at some girl's bed or getting some rest from... working.

After grabbing myself a cup of coffee, I checked the door's mat. Bills, bills, newspaper and... California Institute Of Arts? I remember having an argument with Auryk about this matter at some point. He wanted me to fill the application and send them my portfolio. I insisted we had no money, not even to pay for the tuition. I won - I always win every argument by the way.

"Your damn son of a..." I placed the envelope on the kitchen's table. I was a coward, I confess. However, I didn't know which pain was worse - to be sure I wasn't good enough or to be sure I was, indeed, but I'd never have money to leave that hellhole. Anyways, I decided to leave it alone. I had more important things to do.

My morning routine: to go to the middle of the woods and do some training. My father used to say fighting wasn't a girl thing, but I was no regular girl. And never in this life I'd allow someone to tell me what to do.

After running, climbing and doing a set of push-ups, it was time for combat training. Travelers from abroad taught me some different set of moves, I'd like to think I created my own fighting style. I was also very good with knifes, daggers or any kinds of short blades, they were useful during a close distance combat. My shooting was a work in progress, once or twice I'd miss the center of my handmade targets.

Then, like everyday, I'd go back home, shower and follow to my shift at the village's pub.

"Hiya, Leena," Gustav greeted me when I arrived. "I heard today is a special day... the day a little girl..."

"NO!" I stopped him. Gustav was my best friend. We had known each other since we were children and somehow, he liked to make my birthday a special - and embarrassing - event.

He placed a handmade fairytale-like book on the table. There were some edited pictures, mixed with some messed up drawings about my birth and childhood. He called it 'The Princess Who Carried The Light'.

"God, you're soooo stupid..." I rolled my eyes and moaned, before wrapping him into a very tight hug. "I love you, you know that?"

"I know. You'd probably marry me, if you weren't into girls."

We laughed together, as Olga, our boss emerged from the kitchen, bringing a cake with nineteen candles.

"Here's to another year," the older woman opened a wrinkled smile, "make a wish, my darling."

I fell pensive for a moment, besides having my twin brother back home, safe and sound, what else could I wish for? California, that scholarship, a new life... that's for sure.

"I wish for... a new life, a new adventure," I pronounced aloud while blowing the candles.

"Careful," a male voice spoke behind me, "words have power, little sister. You may get what you want."

"Ryk!"

I jumped straight to my brother's arms. I could swear that in only a few weeks he had gotten a little bit taller, and stronger too.

"I wouldn't miss my own birthday, right?" He smirked. "So, where's the cake? Please, chocolate... tell me it's chocolate."

"Your silly boy," Olga spread some icing on his nose. "Of course it's chocolate, as you love. And with cherries too."

Auryk responded with a satisfied smile. Olga and her husband, Kristoff, were those responsible for taking care of him after the Lycan attack, years ago. They sort of adopted him like one of their biological children.

"Oh!" The woman exclaimed taking a closer look at Ryk's forearm. He had gotten a tattoo. I hadn't been informed of those news either. Apparently, my brother had more secrets than I could even start to imagine. "This is... new. It seems like my kids are really growing up."

"And only now you noticed that, Olga?" Gustav joked.

Olga shook her head, grinning at herself and returned to the kitchen. The customers were starting to fill the pub. I stared at Ryk again, wondering what other secrets my brother could be keeping.

"So, what does that mean?" I pointed to his newly gotten tattoo, a strange and ancient symbol it seemed.

"Protection from the evil. This is what we need the most in our lives, especially in a place like this. What reminds me -" we turned around, taking a small box from the pocket of his jacket. "Your gift."

I took the black velvet box from his hands, it contained a golden necklace with a magenta gemstone as pendant. My blue eyes drowned themselves in the stone. It had a mysterious glow. Something hypnotizing. Something magical.

"Whoa..." was everything my mouth could pronounce. "And I bought you an Astronomy book."

Auryk stood up from his chair and went behind me, taking the necklace from my hands to wear it around my neck himself.

"This is supposed to protect you from any supernatural and inhumane beings. I won't lose you to them, Aleena. Not like I lost mom."

"Ryk, I... I can't even thank you enough."

"You don't have to. Just... stay alive."

First, I was overflowing with happiness. It either had to do with the fact my brother was home, alcohol, or both. Also, Olga should thank me. Most of the costumers of the day only stopped by the bar because of me. They absolutely loved me and knowing it was my birthday, they had to come and see me. A few of them even gave me some extra tips or a small gift, which was even greater.

"Okay, party girl..." Auryk helped me to get inside of the house as I tripped over the door mat. "Time to go to bed now. Don't you think?"

"Come on, Ryk! Have some spirit! You're home, Olga gave me the day off tomorrow, I earned some money..."

"You told Mrs. Hansen you secretly had a crush on her daughter during Middle School, you danced on top of a table, you're gonna get a hangover..."

"Party pooper!"

I threw myself at the couch. Auryk stood in front of me with arms crossed, looking like a father about to give his child a lecture.

"What?!" I yelled. "It's not like you've never been drunk before. Remember when you stole Adrian's..." I started to laugh, remembering the episode.

"When you were going to tell me about this, Leena?" He showed me the envelope. The Art Institute envelope. The one I had been struggling to open.

"Oh! I forgot. My bad, I didn't open it myself yet. I probably didn't get in anyways."

"You did."

I did?

"It's not like we have money to pay for my tuition. Also, how are we supposed to move to California, Ryk? I work at a pub and you..."

"I've gotten more than enough for that. You know that getting out of this place has always been the plan, since we were children. Leena, I've done some big jobs those last few months. I have the money to grant us a comfortable life in California."

"Smuggling, Ryk!" I raised my voice, saying aloud the information that was supposed to be a secret or not. "You've been stealing to grant us this life."

My brother stared at me in silence. I couldn't tell if he felt offended or embarrassed about my words.

"I'm getting out of here, whatever it takes," he ran a hand through his dark hair. "And you are coming with me. In two weeks, we move to United States for your enrollment."

"But..."

What I was trying to protest against? Leaving the village and starting a new life with my brother was everything I always dreamed.

"Look, I promise you," Auryk placed both of his firm hands on my shoulders, "once we settle down, no more smuggling."

"Okay," I sighed. "We leave in two weeks then."

There was a loud knock on the door. Being drunk as I was, I figured out I should have forgotten my purse at the pub. Or it could be a neighbor with some very stupid emergency.

Auryk opened the door and there was a strange looking man standing there. We wore sunglasses and a hat, behind his back he was carrying a giant hammer. According to the rumors and stories I heard from my parents, that was one of the Lords of The Four Houses, Karl Heisenberg.

"Auryk Novak?" He asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Come with me, kid. You've gotten yourself in big trouble."

#resident evil village #resident evil 8 #bela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #bela x oc #resident evil fanfiction #the devil in i

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