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honeyedmiller · 1 year ago

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The Hills | Joel Miller

pairing: actor!joel x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors do not interact.

warnings: no outbreak!joel, joel miller au, use of marijuana (reader gets high and joel takes a hit), alcohol consumption, enemies to not-so-much-enemies, joel is on his freak shit in this one, smut (fingering, ass play, cum eating, rimming, unprotected piv, spitting, m & f oral receiving, consensual choking and breath play), reader is lowkey a brat but joel is also an ass, joel’s twitchy palm™, two (2) ass slaps, reader is described to be wearing a dress and heels, mentions of usage of cocaine (non-descriptive and it’s neither reader or joel using—just had to add the warning), no use of y/n. if there’s anything that i missed, please lmk.

word count: 6.1k

synopsis: drugs. sex. fame. joel miller—the very man you despise. something about hollywood or other. it all seems to become a blurred line when you get invited to an oscars after party at a house in the hills.

a/n: shoutout to @joelsgreys for keeping eyes on this for me, for beta’ing, for letting me rant about this continuously in our texts, etc etc. ily

Hollywood: the definition of glitz and glamor, celebrities galore, and wild parties.

Right?

Sort of.

You’d been to these afterparties before—chaos, laughter, and drunk or high celebrities every which way. The afterparties that showed the real side of Hollywood’s favorite people. The afterparties where secretive sex ensues in a hidden room tucked in the back of the mansion. The afterparties where people let loose, had fun, and celebrated their wins, or the wins of their friends.

That’s exactly why you were here. This particular multi-million dollar home was chalk-full of familiar famous faces that would get absolutely trashed without the public knowing a single thing about their rendezvous, celebrating each other’s wins.

It was like an unspoken rule amongst all the attendees: what happens at the after party, stays at the after party.

Tess Servopoulos, a well-known actress, was your best friend. She always invited you to the award shows when she could, and made sure you were invited to the afterparties. In this case, it was the after party for The Oscars, where her other best friend was celebrating his wins tonight, taking home three Oscars just hours prior.

And it’s funny, because to you, the devil wasn’t down in Georgia. He was in fucking Los Angeles, California, and his name is Joel Miller.

Arrogant, conceited, and a complete asshole as far as you were concerned. You’d never had a good interaction with the man, always seeming to have targeted hatred toward you for no particular reason.

So you hated him right back.

Because, honestly, who the fuck did he think he was?

You didn’t give two shits if he was an A-lister. Good for him. His arrogance and asshole-ish nature was enough to make you roll your eyes at the mere sight of him. He was one of those people that everybody seemed to absolutely adore, thinking he was doing everyone a solid favor just by being in their presence.

And you think, the fuck does it matter anyway? Your opinion of one man in a room full of elites is about as relevant as a speck of fucking dirt on the bottom of some Louboutins.

You inwardly sighed and drank from the champagne flute that was placed in your hand once you maneuvered your way into the house. Tess dragged you along to say hello to people you’ve met before, and introduced you to those you hadn’t. Most of them were fairly nice, some remembering you from previous parties or recognizing you in god-awful candid shots that paparazzi took of you when you were with Tess.

Tabloids were always a funny thing. There were multiple times where you’d see a photo of yourself in public with Tess, plastered in some stupid celebrity magazine claiming you were her ‘mystery lover.’ Or, there were the times where they’d call you a gold digger; someone who wanted fifteen minutes of fame and all the “luxuries” that came with being acquainted with a celebrity.

You always had a good laugh with Tess about them, and she’d tell you that one day she’d share the story behind you: a college roommate who was her total opposite, but it worked. You were there from the beginning—she’d get casted in parts for commercials, then extras for TV shows, and then bigger roles like a supporting character, and eventually the lead character in many blockbuster hits.

You were her biggest supporter, there for her through her wins and losses. She was truly your platonic soulmate, and you, hers.

You always plastered a smile on your face when making your rounds at these things. Got a little star-struck here and there, but you kept your cool. Celebrities are human beings, after all.

The party was in full swing, people plastered and laughing loudly over the thumping music. Sometimes you thought these parties got a little ridiculous, but you knew this was a rare occasion where these people—faces of the public, under a watchful eye of millions of adoring fans and the scrutinizing media—got the chance to loosen up and be their real selves.

You swirled the champagne around your flute, babysitting the same glass from when you first walked into this party. You leaned against a crisp white wall adorned with what you were sure were very expensive paintings, observing the crowd before you.

The familiarity that drifted through the room was almost unsettling for you. Friends with arms slung over each other’s shoulders, casual and comfortable conversation—and then there was you, who didn’t really know anyone but Tess. She didn’t want to leave your side, but she’d gotten pulled every which way for a conversation and you didn’t want to ride her coattail all night, so you told her you’d get yourself another drink, maybe.

And you were going to, but then the room felt a little too warm. So, naturally, you ventured down another long hallway adorned with paintings and expensive side tables with vases that held fresh flowers that probably cost more than you’d ever see in your lifetime.

Your heels clicked rhythmically against the marble flooring as you made your way to two French double doors that led out to a balcony that was unoccupied.

Perfect.

You opened the doors and sucked in a huge breath of air, admiring the lights gleaming throughout the whole of Los Angeles as far as you could see.

And then you wondered, with every house and apartment and business that was illuminated with a soft yellow light, what each individual occupying these spaces stories were.

People that weren’t famous. People that had regular nine-to-five jobs. People who were desperately trying to make ends meet. People like you, you think.

You loved Tess to death. You’d do anything and everything for her, but Hollywood was secretly a massive headache.

You sighed as you tore your eyes away from the soft lights, opening your clutch to find the joint you brought. Just something to take the edge off and ease the fucking nerves that started coursing through you, unwanted and untimely.

You fished the pre-roll and lighter out of your bag, flicking the lighter on in multiple attempts, but no avail.

You groaned as you kept trying, but the realization that your lighter was done for had swept over you quickly.

“Son of a bitch.” You mutter with a heavy sigh.

“Need a light?” A deep voice asked from behind. A familiar voice. A voice with Southern twang that supposedly charmed every person that was blessed to hear it. A voice you couldn’t fucking stand.

You look over your shoulder to see Joel Miller in the flesh, clad in a crisp white button-down with the top two buttons unbuttoned, exposing his tan chest. The shirt was tucked into some black slacks, accompanied by shiny black shoes.

You hated to admit that he looked good. Real good. But you wouldn’t ever dare to admit that out loud, even with a gun to your head.

“No.” You said, turning back around. His footsteps become closer, and you roll your eyes before you have to restrain yourself from physically shuddering at the proximity between you two.

“Stop bein’ a brat and jus’ take the goddamn light.” Joel rolls his eyes, and you turn to face him. He’s next to you now, leaning against the balcony while holding up a lighter.

You eye him conspicuously, and he looks annoyed as he flicks the lighter on and off. You grit your teeth before slotting the joint between your fingers, bringing it up to your lips.

He easily flicks his lighter on once more, bringing the flame to the end of the joint. The small flame illuminates the space between your bodies, and he looks good with the soft orange glow against his tan skin, you think.

The end of the joint crackles and you inhale deeply, turning your body toward the lights of the city once more.

You blow out the smoke slowly, tilting your head to the side. “Thanks,” You mutter.

“Hm,” He hums, “Would ya look at that. Not that hard to use your manners now, ain’t it?”

“Shut up, Joel. Christ.” You rub your forehead with your thumb, eyebrows pinching together. You came out here for some peace, not to be annoyed and antagonized by the very man you couldn’t stand.

“Hey, I jus’ did ya a favor. No need for that fuckin’ attitude of yours.”

“Jesus fuck, Joel, do you not have anything better to do? Shouldn’t you be fucking one of your whores by now or snorting coke in the bathroom with another beloved A-lister?” You roll your eyes and take another hit.

Joel didn’t like that one bit. He took a step forward, broad body hard to ignore with the heat radiating off of him. Your eyes trail up his chest and to his face, which was contorted with pure anger.

“Who the fuck do you think you are talkin’ to me like that? You’re pissin’ off the wrong person, doll.” Joel’s voice is gruff, full of patience that was smaller than a piece of thread at this point.

“I don’t need to bow down to you just because you’re famous, asshole. You’re the one who’s had the problem with me from the beginning. I only reciprocate the energy I receive, so you can fuck all the way off with the superiority complex you think you have over me.”

“Why the fuck are you here anyway? Hollywood ain’t a place for naïve girls like you.” Joel quirks his harsh brow at you, like he’s challenging you.

Motherfucker.

“And who said I was naïve, cowboy? You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I know that you’re annoyin’ and don’t fuckin’ belong here. God knows what Tess sees in you as a friend n’ why she keeps invitin’ you to these things.”

Your blood ran hot as you stared at the man in front of you. His jaw was set in a hard line, clenching his teeth every so often in pure annoyance as he looked at you with utter hatred and disgust.

“I may not belong in Hollywood, Miller, but at least my fucking morals are right and I don’t pull bitch moves like abandoning my friends when they need me the most.”

You were infuriated and quite frankly so fucking sick of this man berating you when he should be the last person on this green fucking Earth to talk. It was a low blow, your last comment to him, but what kind of a friend was he to choose a woman he was so pussywhipped over instead of being there for Tess when she was going through a rough time?

It broke your heart to see her so upset that Joel chose another woman he barely knew over her, icing her out when she’d been nothing but a good friend to him. She forgave him, of course, after he’d apologized to her months later.

She had a kinder heart than you would’ve at the situation. You don’t think you could ever forgive somebody for that.

You already thought Joel was an arrogant asshole before that even happened, but that situation was the last nail in the coffin to confirm that he’s exactly the person you thought he was.

“I apologized to her. We’re good now.” Joel’s harsh stare never wavered, but the annoyance in his tone did. He almost sounded…sad.

“Yeah. Whatever.” You roll your eyes, flicking the ash off of the end of the joint before taking another hit. Your mind was already starting to become hazy, and the proximity between you and Joel was starting to make your head spin.

Your gaze flickered up to his face once more, brown eyes still locked on you. You furrow your brows, but before you can speak, Joel plucks the joint from your fingers. He puts the filter up to his lips and deeply inhales, and you frown.

“Get your own recreational drugs, asshole.” You mutter, arms crossing over your chest. Joel’s eyes trail down to your chest before moving back up to yours. A small smirk evades his lips, and he blows the smoke into your face.

“You’re such a fuckin’ brat.”

“Fuck you gonna do? Spank me for not thinking you’re all high and mighty and shit?” The frown is permanent on your face as you assess him, not realizing the impact that your words had on him.

His cock stirred in his slacks at the thought of that.

He stubs out the half-finished joint before handing it back to you. You tuck it away in your purse before looking at him again, carefully studying him.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He’s got a knowing look on his face, and you have to force yourself to feign disgust.

Because, goddammit, you probably would. You’d probably be all over him if he wasn’t such a fucking asshole. The rage you’ve targeted toward him has made you see past his rugged looks and charm, the broadness of him and the veins that protrude from his hands to his forearms and—

You’ve wondered briefly what it’d be like to succumb to it. To be like every single other person who melts for him like lava seeping into the deepest cracks of the Earth. Untouchable. Destructive. And yet, a beautiful aftermath.

“Think I’ll take that as a yes.” His laugh rumbles from deep within his sturdy chest. For a moment he looks so carefree, so light and happy while he laughs. It might’ve been at your own expense, but for the slightest second, you saw through the harsh stares and the hateful demeanor.

“Fuck you, Miller.”

His mouth snapped shut and his harsh gaze settled on you again. His nostrils flared as he glared at you, a heat behind his eyes you’ve never seen before. His palm twitches at his side and he opens his mouth to say something argumentative, but closes it after a second.

Before you know it, he wraps his hand around your forearm, dragging you behind him.

You nearly trip over your heels as you try to keep up with him, wriggling in his strong grasp. He wouldn’t let up.

“Let go of me you asshole!” You seethe, but he pushes you into a room—tucked at the back of the mansion—secluded from everyone else. Oh.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

You quickly realized you were in for it when he shut the door and locked it. Nerves buzzed in your veins and you inhaled a shaky breath.

He looked like he was some sort of predator stalking its prey with the way his eyes scanned your body as he moved around to the other side of the room.

“Real fuckin’ sick of your attitude.” He starts. You scoff at him and throw your arms up.

“Wouldn’t have to deal with it if you just left me the fuck alone in the first place.” You cross your arms over your chest once more, and Joel takes two large strides toward you before he’s standing so close that you can smell the whiskey and weed on his breath.

“N’ that’s the problem, darlin’, I can’t leave you alone. Been wanting to fuck that attitude right outta you since the first day we met.”

You swear your heart drops into your ass. “Wh-what?” Your eyes are wide as he walks forward, forcing you to move backwards until the backs of your knees hit the king-sized bed.

You didn’t even notice there was a bed in the room because the very man before you was insanely distracting.

“You heard me. You’re a brat, baby, n’ brats deserve to be punished.”

You swallow hard as a fire burns behind his eyes, mischievous and daring.

“Joel—”

“Turn around.”

You don’t even think twice before listening to his demand, turning around so you face the bed.

“Can’t hate me that much if you’re an obedient little thing for me, hm?” The amusement was oozing from his Southern drawl.

Your first instinct was to argue with him, but deep down you knew he was right. Maybe all the hatred you had for him had a little bit of desire sprinkled deep down in the depths of your core, unexplored and completely disregarded.

The thought of his hands on you excited you. You saw the way he touched women in the movies he was in. Regardless if it was just acting or not, you always ended up aroused after Tess would force you to watch any movie of his—especially the ones with erotica. She would tease you about not liking him, unknowing of the true abhorrence that stirred in your body. He was her best friend too, so you had to be cordial to him around her for her sake.

You tried to ignore him altogether, but where it got you now—pressed up against the bed as his large hands landed onto your body to tightly grip your hips—didn’t seem to pan out so well.

“Will you let me touch you?” His voice has a rough edge to it, the teasing long gone as he stares at your figure from behind.

“Yes.” You whisper.

He doesn’t say another word as his calloused hands slide around your thighs and to the front of your body. He presses himself against you, and the warmth he radiates off of his body alone makes you sigh.

He’s so sturdy and strong, just as you imagined him to be. You could feel his cock hardening against the plump of your ass, and you wiggle in the slightest to tease him.

He inhales sharply, one hand sliding underneath the hem of your dress while the other hand splayed out onto your stomach.

The skimpy panties you had on did a terrible job at keeping your arousal strictly within the confines of the lace fabric. The apex of your thighs was smeared with the neediness you refused to address, now completely on display for the man it was all for.

Joel’s hand skimmed your inner thighs, chuckling darkly as he traced the outline of your pussy with his thumb through the fabric.

You tried your hardest to hold back a moan, really. You fucking tried. As soon as the sound bubbled in your throat and glided past your lips, you could feel Joel’s smile in victory. He was always playing chess while you were playing checkers.

Well, check fucking mate for him.

“Didn’t know I got ya this excited, baby.” He grips the hem of your panties, sliding them down your legs. You step out of them and he immediately pockets them.

“You wouldn’t be the first.” You mumble, not wanting to feed into his already huge ego.

“Oh I’m sure I’m not,” He starts, breath hot on your neck. “Doesn’t mean I won’t ruin every other fuckin’ man for you. Bend over.”

You clench around nothing at his words, deciding that staying silent is better than digging yourself deeper into your own fucking grave.

You do as he says and bend over the bed, cheek resting against the soft silk sheets.

“‘M gonna fuckin’ make sure I’m all you think about after this. Fuck yourself with your fingers to flashbacks of tonight. Moanin’ my fuckin’ name all alone in your house, wishing I was there to take care of you instead. Fuckin’ brat.”

His words sound like a simultaneous threat and promise, but you just had to say something. You couldn’t let him completely have this without giving him some kind of shit.

“Oh please, I bet I’ll forget as soon as we walk out of this room. You’ve probably got a small dick anyway.”

And you know that isn’t true. He’s huge, and you know he’ll never let you forget about tonight.

A sharp sting blooms onto one of your asscheeks, the sound of him smacking your flesh reverberating off of the walls of the bedroom. You moan at the delicious pain.

“You n’ I both know that ain’t true, doll. Enough with that fuckin’ mouth of yours. Could put it to better use than talkin’ all that shit.”

His hands knead the flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart to get a good look at all of you. You almost feel embarrassed, but decide not to get into your head too much about it because all you want him to do is fucking touch you where you need him the most.

Your core was aching. You were almost ready to put your pride aside and fucking beg him to touch you. Almost.

You were about to give in when you heard him shuffle behind you, and you craned your neck to see Joel drop onto his knees behind you.

His eyes locked with yours as he gave you a smirk before leaning forward to bite your ass. You let out a small yelp, and his hand was quick to soothe the pain.

“Gonna fuckin’ set you right once n’ for all.”

And he brings a hand up to your core, sliding his middle and ring finger through your dripping folds. You whimper softly at the sensation, a small flood of relief coursing through your veins. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

Your hips start to rock involuntarily, and Joel tsks at you.

“Greedy fuckin’ whore, aren’t ya? Patience is a virtue, baby.” He chides.

“Goddamnit Joel.” Your voice sounds breathy, even to your own surprise.

Suddenly, Joel slips his two fingers into you, and your hands fly out to grip the sheets beneath you. Your eyebrows furrow together and relish in the feeling of his thick fingers scissoring in and out of your aching cunt.

“So fuckin’ wet already. ‘F I woulda known I did this to ya…” He chuckles, working his fingers in and out of you expertly.

He leans forward and licks up your folds, swirling his tongue around your clit. You can’t help the strangled moan that leaves your mouth, and you can just feel Joel’s cocky ass smirk.

He continues lapping up your arousal, more dripping out around his fingers and down to his wrist. It'd been awhile since anyone touched you like this, so you presume you were extra turned on because of that reason.

You didn’t want to give all the credit to Joel.

His tongue slid up and he removed his fingers from you, replacing them with his tongue as he prodded it into your entrance and fucked you with it.

You were already a moaning mess, like you were on cloud nine with the way he was making you feel. He gripped both of your cheeks and spread them further for his own leisure, tongue dragging upward until it met your asshole.

“Holy fuck, Joel—” You choke out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he swirls his tongue around the tight ring. Your heart is thrumming in your chest and your pussy clenches around nothing.

Joel lowly moaned around you, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine.

You don’t know how long he’s doing this for—your mind is still hazy from the high you’ve been riding, pleasure wrapped around every single inch of your body. You lose track of time and immerse yourself in how he’s making you feel.

Joel pulls himself away from you, sliding both of his fingers back into you. This time, though, he teases your other hole with the tip of his pinky.

“You ever let anyone fuck this pretty ass of yours with their fingers?”

“Please.” Was all you could squeak out, because while you didn’t want to admit you never have, you were willing to give it a go. It was obvious he knew what he was doing, and if you didn’t like the way something felt, you’d just tell him.

He spits onto your asshole before grunting, “Relax.”

And you do. He slides his pinky into your puckered hole, and fuck you feel so full with him like this. He works his three fingers in and out of you slowly at first, each move calculated and precise.

He may’ve been an asshole, but he at least wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

He picks up the pace of his fingers after he’s sure you can handle it, and the feeling of pleasure seizes your body as you shake underneath him.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. You can feel your orgasm rapidly building building building, the coil wound so tight that your stomach constricts in plea of release.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Joel I’m gonna—oh fuck!”

And you’re literally gushing around his fingers. He prolongs your orgasm as long as he can. You think he’s saying things like there you go, that’s it, but you can hardly pay attention over the loud ringing in your ears as you try and come down from your Earth-shattering orgasm.

He slips his fingers out of you slowly, watching your body convulse sporadically from the aftermath of it all.

He grabs your body and flips you around so you’re laying at the edge of the bed. The fluorescent lights are blinding as you try and look at his face. You blink rapidly, chest heaving up and down as you try your damndest to find your bearings once more.

He’s unfastening the button on his slacks, and all you can hear is the rustle of the fabric and the thumping music outside of the locked door.

You wondered briefly if anyone—Tess, specifically—was looking for the two of you. You’d be mortified if she found you like this, but Joel was smart enough to lock the doors.

You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t even noticed he was pulling down his underwear, so when you looked back at him you gasped when you saw his stiff, aching length. Your hunch was correct—he was huge. His tip was red, smeared with precome and just begging to be taken care of.

If there was any time in your life to impress Joel Miller, now was your chance. You sit up on your knees and lower your head, looking up at him through your lashes, your mouth inches away from his tip.

The muscle in his jaw ticked furiously, brown eyes watching you meticulously. You gave him a small, cocky smirk before you leaned forward and wrapped your lips around his tip, eyes fluttering shut at the salty taste. You use one hand to steady yourself onto the bed, and the other to wrap around his length as you start to pump him slowly.

He inhales sharply, holding back a groan as you undoubtedly start to please him.

You set a steady rhythm between your hand and mouth. The wet sounds are obscene and nearly pornographic. A part of you wishes this was being recorded so you’d have something to watch back when you needed to get yourself off.

Greed is a tragedy, and tragic you were in this moment.

Joel’s hand flies to the back of your head, cradling it as you remove your hand and slide your lips as far down his shaft as your mouth would allow. The head of his cock hit the back of your throat, and as much as you were salivating, you swallowed around him.

The tip of your nose barely made contact with the wiry hairs at the base of his cock, and Joel let out the most guttural groan you’d ever heard.

“Filthy fuckin’ mouth, baby. Goddamn. Knew it could be put to better use than you—ngh—spewin’ that fuckin’ attitude.”

You hum around him, bobbing your head up and down his length. His pants were getting more rapid and he was becoming more vocal, grunting fuck and filthy, filthy girl.

“Shit, yeah, just like that doll. Just. Like. That.” Joel’s voice is hoarse behind his clenched teeth. If you didn’t know any better, he’d probably shatter his teeth with how hard he was clenching them.

And you don’t let up. Not even after a string of curses spills past his lips, and definitely not after he groans so loudly that it vibrates through his whole body as ropes of his come spill down your throat.

You’re in overstimulation territory, and he’s falling apart at the seams.

He pulls your head off of his length as he tries to catch his breath, sweat beading at his temples.

“Fuckin’ christ.” He breathes, squeezing his eyes shut before looking at you again.

“Didn’t know I would be so good at that now, did you?” You tease, and the corner of his mouth twitches into a snarl.

“Shut the fuck up.” He says, and you laugh. He grabs your hips suddenly, flipping you around once more so you’re on all fours for him again.

“‘M’keepin’ my promise. Gonna fuck that attitude straight outta your goddamn brain.” His tone is serious, and you’re beginning to think he really isn’t fucking around.

You hear him pump himself a few times and you think about the dangerous threshold you’re about to cross with him. Would you regret it after? Would he?

It was like you were both taking a bite of forbidden fruit, specially picked from the Garden of Eden.

Fuck it. There’s worse things you can do.

“You on any birth control?” He asks, and you nod.

“IUD.”

“Good.” He says before sliding the head of his cock through your folds. Your body jerks when it catches your clit, still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

Without another word, Joel pushes into you and you stretch around him deliciously. It’s like your body was begging for him to be inside you at this point.

“Fuuuck.” Joel groans, gripping your hips so tightly they’d probably be bruised by tomorrow.

You bite your lip to keep from screaming, because he’s the biggest you’ve ever had and the sting won’t go away.

“Move, Joel.” You plead, and he smacks your ass once again, making you flutter around his cock.

“Fuck did I say about patience? Christ, woman.”

You shut your eyes as you feel him become fully erect inside you, and you’re seriously going to cry if he doesn’t move soon.

Almost as if he’d read your mind, he started to thrust his hips slowly. It didn’t take long for him to set a pace, though, and he was brutally pistoning in and out of you.

“Fucking…. hate… you.” You spit pathetically, holding onto the sheets for dear life. He laughs dryly behind you, mumbling a sure before going even harder.

Your moans were getting louder and louder, and you truthfully couldn’t give two fucks who heard you at this point.

Fucking let them hear.

“Better hush up now, whole house could probably hear you with how loud you’re bein’.” He scolded, and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t give a fuck,” You squeaked out, “Let them.”

“Attagirl,” His laugh was mischievous, pounding into you even faster than before. “Little fuckin’ whore loves takin’ this cock, hm?”

One of his hands moved up your body, causing chills down your spine and goosebumps to raise onto your skin.

His hand wrapped around your throat, and you moaned at the idea of getting choked out while he fucked you from behind.

One of your hands flew up to his, and he was half expecting you to yank it away. He was pleasantly surprised when you clamped your fingers down around his, silently urging him to squeeze.

And he did. You felt like you were fucking floating.

Joel didn’t let up, even when you felt the burning hot coil wind up in your core once again.

“Feel so fucking good– s–o so fucking— fuck.” You’re a blubbering mess. He pulls your body up so your back is facing his front, never letting his pace waver.

“Fucking you dumb on my cock, aren’t I? Listen to you, baby. Pathetic.” He laughs at you once again, but you don’t have any willpower to fight back. You just let it happen, because each thrust of his cock into you has your body turning into complete fucking mush.

“Close.” Is what you whisper, and Joel can feel your walls tightening around him. He chokes on a moan at the sensation, fingers tightening around your throat even more.

You can barely breathe, but you fucking love it. You love seeing stars cloud your vision like this. The heightened sensation of your orgasm comes crashing down over you, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you silently scream out.

Your body convulses continuously as you try to ride out your orgasm, but Joel’s hand leaves your throat and moves down to your clit to rub at it furiously.

You cry out his name, your hands frantic to find purchase to anything as you try and brace yourself.

It’s no use, though. Your body is limp and your soul fucking escaped from you long ago.

“Where do you want me?” The urgency in his voice is evident, but you’re in such a daze that you barely clock it.

“Inside me.” You manage, and he groans loudly before he lets go, filling you up with everything he has. His body slumps over yours, both of you trying so hard to pull yourselves back to reality.

He slides out of you and you both groan at the loss of being one.

You turn over on your back, once again blinded by the lights. Your eyes flutter close as you assess everything that partook the last—thirty? fourty? you don’t fucking know—minutes of your life.

Your body slowly floats back down to reality, and you peel your eyes open when you hear shuffling. Joel is on his knees again, spreading your legs to look at his handiwork. He looks up at you with that same devilish smirk, licking up his spend from your cunt before hovering over you.

He uses his thumb to coax your jaw open, spitting his spend into your mouth.

“Swallow.” He demands, and you do as he says. You open your mouth to show him you did, and a satisfied look washes over his features.

“Hope you feel me leakin’ out of you all goddamn night, sweetheart.”

You look at him incredulously, reality crashing down with the unwavering truth: you and Joel really fucked.

He was inches away from your face, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered what it would be like if he kissed you. His lips looked so soft.

But that would make it too complicated. It would turn into a thing you didn’t need it to be, and you knew kissing him would make the probability of hating him into a fucking zero.

Get a grip.

But, you catch him. You catch his eyes flicker down to your lips, the same thing probably reeling in his mind, too.

Maybe one wouldn’t hurt.

No. You wouldn’t allow it for yourself. He can take his Southern charm and shove it up his ass.

You cleared your throat and moved to stand up. Your legs were shaky at first, but you found your grounding as you walked over to the mirror on the other side of the room.

You straightened out your appearance, making sure you didn’t have “I just got fucked” plastered across your forehead. Once you were satisfied, you turned around to see Joel sitting on the bed.

You nod at him once, “Joel,” and you’re unlocking the door to be rejoined by the thumping music and loud laughter, leaving him to stare at you as you walked away.

You made your way into the backyard, needing a breath of fresh air after everything that ensued.

“There you are! I was looking all over for you.” Tess pulls you into her side, giving your arm a playful squeeze as she holds you close.

“Yeah, I uh, went to smoke a J.” Which, yes, was of course partially true—but you’d probably never admit to her that you just got done getting your brains fucked out by Joel Miller.

She probably wouldn’t even believe you if you told her, anyway.

It didn’t need to become a thing, even if it was the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

Sex you’d probably be having flashbacks about years down the line, just as Joel promised.

You groan inwardly, eyes drifting upward to casually scan the backyard. You caught a familiar pair already staring at you from across the way, and your whole body bloomed with aching heat once more.

Those brown eyes were accompanied with a sickening smirk, and two seconds later, a wink.

You knew no matter how hard you tried, and as much as you fucking despised him, it wouldn’t be easy to get him out of your head.

You were so fucked, you think.

The idea of admitting that you maybe didn’t hate him was unwarranted, but you knew deep down it was your reality. You really didn’t hate him.

And maybe, just maybe, these parties weren’t so bad after all.

tags: @ilovepedro @nostalxgic @punkshort @endlessthxxghts

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagines #joel miller imagine #joel miller au #actor!joel #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x afab!reader #fic: the hills

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sgiandubh · 24 days ago

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A clarification

As @bat-cat-reader already posted and according to C herself, McGill wasn't there and that should be enough for us. She said it loud, on BBC Four's Woman's Hour - you can listen to it here: https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m0029hlm.

Nuala McGovern, the show's host, specifically mentions the premiere event at the Leicester Square Odeon Luxe cinema in London. The segment that interests us is roughly running between 11:08-13:30 and it could not be clearer. If he was there, why not mention him, but mention her sister, her sister's husband and some friends? I mean, how odd is that, anyways?

Listen for yourself. For obvious reasons related to size, I could not post the entire audio file, so I made a clip out of the relevant part and, as always, transcripted it:

Nuala McGovern (N): 'But I have another guest, who has just made her way into the studio. She won a BAFTA for her performance in Kenneth Branagh's film Belfast, she's known to many fans of time-travel drama Outlander as Claire, but the Irish actress Caitriona Balfe is joining me to talk about her latest role, this is playing a Russian spy in the new film The Amateur, starring Rami Malek. Welcome to Woman's Hour!'

Caitriona Balfe (C): 'Hi, Nuala, thank you for having me, just to say it, I didn't win the BAFTA, I would love to have, but I was nominated [laughs].'

'N: ' We just elevate it a bit, maybe we're sending all of that to the Universe, have it happen next time [? unclear, both laugh], but I went to see you last night, I went to the premiere. I mean, I think this is the first premiere I've ever gone to.'

C: 'Oh, well, I am very glad you've made it! I hope you had fun!'

'N:' I really did! It's such a glitzy, glamorous event, I was wondering what must it be like to be in the eye of the storm and for anybody who hasn't been, like I haven't before, apart from seeing it on TV, you know, you have these pens of journalists and fans, and you walk down a white carpet, not a red carpet last night, and people are just roaring at you and looking for attention, what does that feel like?'

C: 'Ahem, I mean it's kind of fun, I don't know. I mean, I don't think I ever had a premiere there before...'

N: ' It was Leicester Square, just to let people know, in London, on a kind of a warm evening....'

C: ' It was gorgeous, I mean, sunshine and blue skies and all of that... ahem, you know, it's kind of overwhelming, but it's also, I think, once in a while, to be able to kind of get dressed up and celebrate, you know, the hard work of a lot of people, especially when our business is sort of struggling at the moment, it feels really good.

N: 'So, ahem, and also, the crowd that was there last night, they were a very vocal crowd, I don't know, do you watch the film, or do you come out at the beginning...?

C:' No, I sat at the beginning, I watched it, my sister was there with her husband and some friends, so we all sat together, uhm... and it's fun, I mean people were laughing, people were...'

N: ' Hollering! Whooping...'

C:' ...so, it's good, that's always a good sign when the film gets people engaged, like that.'

Nothing left to comment, even if some would still like to cling to the absurd premise he was still somehow there and not mentioned at all, perhaps on purpose. Now why would that be? For all it's worth, she always mentioned McGill as a convenient prop of sorts every single time questions were probably hitting way too close to home than she thought suitable or comfortable. Mentioning her sister's husband and not 'her own'? Wow. Really wow, here.

I am very glad to be able to give more substance to these positive news, which were, I think, much needed in here.

And that's all I will comment about it. I absolutely own my varying position on the matter of McGill's presence at the event. Despite what some might want to think, I sometimes also work with the data and information some of you are kindly sending me. While I may have tips, that was not the case yesterday - just a blogger who thought she saw McGill there and felt the need to tell me and others. I now think she was honest, but very probably wrong, given what C just publicly declared on a major public media outlet.

As we know, there are no coincidences. What happened today starts to sketch a very interesting story, keeping in mind that McGill's entrance was operated in pretty much the same way, with allusions inserted in interviews, and so on.

#fandom #shitshow #The Amateur London premiere event March 2025 #verbatim

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mci-writing · 1 year ago

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Hi I saw that your requests are open. Can I request a senku x female reader where he has a crush on an older tattooed foreigner who was on vacation in Japan when the world was petrified

I've had this sitting for a minute tbh, but mostly bc I didn't want there to be too many spoilers for anime-onlys 😭😭 mostly for how tattoos work,,, Don’t be surprised if there’s a heavy focus on language plot wise, I’ve been working on a lot of linguistics homework 😞

Anyways, hope you enjoy

Science Makes Age Complicated (Ishigami Senku x Reader):

Warnings: technically an age gap but also not (reader was once 2 years older than Senkuu, but now they're the same age due to time shenanigans), fem!reader, some language use (a few swears here and there), reader is American (RIP but it’s plot relevant), reader is implied to know an insane amount of languages (bc this is Dr Stone and it’s relevant to world-building)

"Think you can scrounge something up for her, Yuzuriha?" Senku parts the lush shrubbery for his friend, unresponsive to her obvious surprise at the sight before her. He figured it would go that way, considering how kept away the whole area is, but he'd rather start the spectacle with her big reactions instead of the loud and boisterous version involving the rest of their crew, "I'm more than sure you'll manage to make her something she's 1 billion percent comfortable in."

He'd considered this statue his secret weapon for the next part of their excursion. Well, that would be his explanation as to why he'd waited so long to unveil her and finally free her from her encasement. Really, he could never find the proper time to finally revive her, especially when every time it would feel right to, something else would arise that would require them to use the revival fluid for someone else.

When talks of traveling to the Americas came up, he knew it'd be the perfect time to properly reveal her and, hopefully, ease her into their current predicament. While Gen is a great diplomat, thew mentalist isn't exactly fluent in as many languages as the girl in the statue before them. Even more, if they are to run into more people (which they very likely are), it's better to have at least two representatives to talk things over. That's going to be his reasoning, anyway.

Deep down, he's a little nervous to finally see her again, especially now that he's technically older than her by a few months at least. The last time they'd seen each other had been the day before the petrification light, the two decided to spend time with each other before he went back to school. She was visiting Japan for a bit, a trip she'd planned to make at least once a year since the two had officially met in person while he had been in America. Back then, she'd been 17 to his 15, owning an American driver's license and a tattoo sleeve that left many of the older members of society scandalized.

"I don't think she's going to take being younger than us well," Yuzuriha mentions as she finishes up sewing the outfit she'd made for (Y/n). She worked fast, wiping the sweat that had accumulated on her forehead once she finished. She takes a step back once she's finished, watching as Senku steps forward, "Especially when she finds out how long it took for you to bring her back."

"She'll be fine. I'm 1 billion percent sure she's going to be grateful for it," He responds, popping the top off the tiny vial between his fingers. He doesn't stop the grin from spreading across his face as he lets the contents of the vial drip from the top of her head. The two watch expectedly as it eases its way down her body, stone cracking and parting in its wake, “She’s going to get to visit home, after all.”

The stone falls from her body, the life slowly coming back into her (e/c) orbs as more of her skin is revealed. Her tattooed sleeve remains, now accompanied by the petrification markings on her face and other parts of her body. A wave of confusion hits her as she takes in the unfamiliar surroundings, but her shoulders relax a little as she takes in the two familiar figures next to her, "Senku...? Yuzuriha...?" "Hey, (Y/n)," He immediately greets in response, an excited light coming to his eyes as ruby meets (e/c), "Looks like we're the same age now."

Yuzuriha flinches at his greeting, sighing with a shake of her head as she takes a small step closer to their friend. A nervous smile forms on her lips as she takes (Y/n) hands into her own, leading her out of the hidden away area into the light of the new world. She feels the grip tighten as (e/c) eyes dart around the surrounding forestry in an attempt to better understand the circumstances and environment, "We have a lot to catch you up on, but I'm sure if we ease you in slowly it won't cause you too much whiplash-"

"We don't have time for that, Yuzuriha. We still have to load the ship back up and travel to America," Senku waves the notion off, walking past the two of them and leading them back into the village. Neither of the girls miss the smirk on his face as he continues, unmoving as they gape at him like fish, "(Y/n) will catch up along the way."

He's bluffing, which they realize a little later when Ryusui recounts the plan to spend the next few days loading the ship and replacing the items they used on their last voyage. (Y/n) is assimilated faster into their new society than she can process, the rest of their group taking the basic information they're fed and working with it. Yuzuriha is eventually forced to leave her to fend for her own after a bit to attend to her own assignments and Taiju only stops to catch up for a bit (which is mostly him speed talking and making assumptions about how much she's been made aware of) before continuing to move along.

Senku doubts he'll ever admit it out loud, but he is grateful that they're the same age, even if he's technically older by a few months now. Standing next to (Y/n), who hadn't aged a day past the last time he'd seen her, was the reassurance he secretly needed about his own development. While his growth spurt, a result of the final pushes of puberty during the Stone Wars and roughing it during the New Stone Age, was the only difference he could notice next to her, (Y/n) had been hit with the whiplash of every other development.

To her, it felt like both a lifetime and a long night since she had seen Senku, yet he looked almost completely different and exactly the same. The remainder of his baby fat had rounded out of his cheeks, his face maturing nicely into that of a young adult, and he'd sprung up quite a bit in height. He was still lithe in comparison to Taiju, till thin and very much not built for too much physical labor, but he'd gotten a bit of meat on his bones to fill his arms out a little more. Despite that, he still looked like him, like the jerky boy she'd met by chance in middle school who would be the first person she'd show her newest tattoos to when she was 16 to get some kind of rise out of him.

Taiju and Yuzuriha were a further reminder of the weird passage of time, the two more developed in their own rights. He was beefier, still ever-muscular in a more defined way. His hands seemed rougher, but she didn't know if that had been due to the rougher circumstances or if they were always meant to get so rough with all the handy work Senku would put him up to. Yuzuriha had filled out a little, a few scars littering her hands from what (Y/n) could only assume was from her thread work she'd seem to consistently be working on since they'd gotten back to their stronghold. Her silky brown hair, which had once reached her waist and made a few of the girls from their school envious of its length, now barely reached past her shoulders in its bobbed shape.

She feels so out of place...

~~~~

The rush of information coming to people’s senses is always amusing to watch, but (Y/n) is taking a little more time to process than usual. Even now, a few days into her now being free from the stone prison, she still has more questions. They aren’t particularly scientific, more so just random observations that she really wants the answers to. She’s also hyper-analyzed the villagers' speech patterns, having them repeat their newer slang and pronounce random words in Japanese, English, and German (something they did not realize they were fluent in until she came around). In return, they ask her questions about the past (mostly Senku, Yuzuriha, and Taiju), the sleeve on her arm, and why the hell she knows so many languages already.

Senku can’t really be mad about it slowly down progress, he’s sure he’d slack off a little too if they didn’t have so little time to prepare for their trip across the sea. Neither of them miss the way their eyes longingly stare at one another, meeting a few times before either is dragged away by the others they’re surrounded by. It’s even worse that (Y/n) feels she hasn’t been able to get any time alone with him since they made it to the village. She’d been made aware of their plans once her confusion died down a little, even taking the time to freshen up on the main languages she’d be focused on for their trip and doing what she can to pitch in. Unfortunately, their different preparations would barely, if ever, cross over. Lowkey, it had been killing both of them inside, but they kept up appearances for the sake of getting things done.

She’d learned from Gen, who gave her brain a break by speaking in English with her, that Senku had kept her relatively well hidden. He’d visit her often, but no one had put together that’s what he’d been doing until now. Yuzuriha made it clear she’d only learned of (Y/n)’s whereabouts a little before they’d revived her. However, the brown-haired girl did mention that a few passing statements he’d made in the past were starting to make sense.

It took the last night before the Kingdom of Science would set sail again for (Y/n) to find time away from the others. Despite the various discussions scratching her brain in the best way possible in a new world, the dark blue of the night accompanied by the low noises of crickets and crashing waves gives her the solace she needs. While everything has mostly settled, or settled as much as it can, it's still moving so fast. To her, everything was normal yesterday and then dark for longer than she thinks possible to comprehend, "Maybe this is how Sleeping Beauty felt..."

"I doubt that," A familiar voice speaks up from behind her, the heels of his shoes clopping along the ground as he approaches. The gravel scrunches as he shifts to sit next to her, deep zircon-colored eyes staring out towards the ocean's expanse. He scoots a little closer to her, his head tilting as his pinky reflexively reaches to dig out of his ear, "Considering she typically is depicted to have been a young preteen when she first fell asleep and an older teenager when she wakes, I doubt there were many technological changes to throw her for such a loop, especially if the story takes place in a fictional version of the middle ages."

His eyes shift to peak at her instead, his typical grin filing onto his face. Somehow, they're one of his few features to remain the same despite his growing age. He's one of the reasons she's out here tonight, gathering her thoughts privately one last time so she can tuck them away to focus her attention more on to returning civilization.

Of course, she always thought he was good-looking, most people did. However, where they were turned off by his passion for science and technical engineering, she found it to be all the more endearing for his character. He had his pesty moments, but so did everyone else in some way. It added to his charm, "Didn't see you as the fables type, Senku."

"Had a friend who was super into literature. She read it in different languages to challenge herself," He teases in response, his gaze turning back to the sight before them, "Wonder where she is now..."

(Y/n) tugs her knees up to her chest, the irony of the comparison not lost on her, though made completely on accident. She pulls them closer, resting her cheek on them as she takes in the boy next to her, "Maybe she's trapped somewhere in a stone prison back in the woods."

She watches his chest rumble with his chuckle, a soft breeze picking up and spreading the smell of salt water. He's closer now, the smaller changes staring her in the face and taunting her. She'd wanted him this close to her again, just for the reassurance, but now... She kind of regrets it.

"I would've found her by now," He mumbles, the sound just barely reaching her ears. A fond smile slowly eases across his mouth as he returns his gaze to her, "Would've taken me a while to finally see her like this again, but I think it'd finally be worth seeing her again. Even with the circumstances."

"I'm sure she'd be grateful to see you again too, even with the circumstances."

#ishigami senku #ishigami senku x reader #ishigami senkuu #ishigami senkuu x reader #senku ishigami x reader #dr stone x reader #senkuu ishigami x reader #did not think it would get so sentimental in the end I'm so sorry #I tussled with how to write this for a year and still feel there's further ways I could've taken it but it already feels pretty long so #I may revisit this again later but I won't hold my breath either 🤧#also had this idea that reader was Senku's interpreter in America but I didn't want to get into too much spoiler territory with that idea #she totally teaches him some silly phrases in the different languages she speaks and does mix languages up to mess with people #he doesn't realize he's into her until she goes back home one year and they fight on her way out #I imagine her tattoos are different phrases that she really enjoys and maybe a few doodles here and there #also wanted to wait until Matsukaze was introduced so ppl knew how tattoos work post petrification bc I kinda didn't wanna spoil it

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xxgoldie · 3 months ago

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seth lowell x gn!reader, reader smokes and it's plot relevant, mentions of alcohol, tipsy flirting, seth is a flustered mess, i can only pray for the confidence i gave reader in this wc: 796

thinking about seth, who gets dragged to a nightclub after he failed to say no to several escalations of the usual thursday post-work drinks, definitely tipsy and trying to flirt with you. the key word being 'trying', because he's really not very good at it, but his earnest efforts and the cute way he flushes and his ears perk up whenever you reciprocate might just be winning you over.

he'd spotted you while he was taking a breather in the smoking area, almost transfixed as he watched you leaning against the brick wall of the club's exterior and swapping between people-watching and observing the swirls of cigarette smoke that left your mouth. he hadn't even realised he was staring until you caught him doing it, an airy chuckle leaving you as he whipped his head away when you made eye contact.

"you can say hi, kitty, I don't bite."

he couldn't really remember what he'd replied or how exactly you'd gotten him talking, but before he knew it seth was next to you, side leaning against that same brick wall, heart hammering the entire time he chatted with you. he'd learned several details about you, but other than your name, a few stuck in his mind;

you were unbelievably cool. you were much more at home in nightclubs than he was. and you were undeniably and crazily out of his league.

yet, for all his fumbled compliments and awkward laughter, you were still there. steadily shifting closer to him. hand brushing against his arm. giggling at his attempts at jokes. eyes locked on his flustered face even as he struggled to maintain eye contact. and he swore that in one of the brief moments he managed to hold your gaze, he saw your eyes flicker to his lips.

seth doesn't smoke, but you do, and the smoking area was much better for chatting anyway. as much as every other word that came out of his mouth made him cringe, whatever he was doing was definitely working better than he'd ever fare on the dance floor - questionable dance skills aside, god knows he'd probably combust with your body pressed against his in the packed space. so the two of you remain outside, and seth watches you smoke and desperately tries to find his footing in the conversation as your every word and move backs his racing heart into a corner it doesn't particularly mind being in.

"d'you want to try it?"

your question comes almost out of nowhere, prompted only by the way seth watched you take a long inhale from the cigarette. he manages out a quick "sure, why not?" despite his rationale telling him no; somewhere between the drinks and your eyes he'd found a greedy instinct to take anything you're willing to give him, even though he knows damn well he's going to splutter on the smoke and embarrass himself as soon as he takes a drag.

but you don't hold it out to him, instead bringing it back up to your own lips. then suddenly, you're standing much closer to him and your hand is gripping his jaw in a way that opens his mouth just enough. you watch him through lidded gaze as you blow the smoke into his mouth, and he freezes, ears perked and tail bristled. you're so close, lips barely a centimetre from his, but your firm grip on his face would stop him from closing the distance even if his short-circuiting mind would let him. he doesn't get a second to process what's happened before he's choking, smoke hitting the back of his throat before he can attempt to inhale it, eyes watering as he attempts to suppress his coughs.

"aww, poor thing," you coo with an amused smile that seth finds scarily attractive. your hand isn't on his face anymore, but you haven't backed away far, still tauntingly close to him. there's nowhere to hide his blush, he can tell you're enjoying the front row view of his flustered face as he coughs again. his gaze is slightly panicked, but overwhelmingly yearning, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky even while he has no idea what to say, or whether his tongue would move even if he did.

but he doesn't have to, because you're looking at something behind him, frowning slightly then sighing.

"looks like my friends need me," you say, voice laced with disappointment as you put out the cigarette. you pat his bicep as you move to walk past him, touch lingering with a slight, indulgent squeeze. "i'll be around. come find me later, kay, pretty boy?"

and then you saunter back inside, leaving seth flushed, needy, and wondering what the earliest time that would count as 'later' would be.

ughhhh i love seth sm, i wanna tease that silly little catboy so bad

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lost-in-the-land-of-stories · 29 days ago

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Elisabeth de Musical 2025 Review (DeLaMar, 22-03-25 Previews)

Hello friends, been a while since I did serious Elisabeth posting, but GUESS WHO WENT TO SEE THE NEW DUTCH SHOW DURING PREVIEWS >:3

I figured it might be nice to have a bit of a report/review for if you’re considering going to see this version of the show, especially if you have to come from abroad to do so. I will do a spoiler-free section first, and then hide my spoiler thoughts under the cut (just a heads-up, I wrote 2000 words of just rambling thoughts immediately after coming home last weekend so this post is LongTM).

Spoiler Free Review

I was really excited to watch a fresh take on Elisabeth from within the area that just takes over the German-language staging, and I was not disappointed. This take on Elisabeth makes some big swings and changes and while there are a few I have complicated thoughts on, overall I really liked it.

The cast is incredibly talented, and the creative direction was fresh and interesting and thoughtful. The choices made feel deliberate and interesting, the new sets are both beautiful and combine having to be moved because the show is touring with not looking lazy/confined by the fact they’re for a tour (in case you’re wondering, yes that’s shade on the non-existent sets and boring screens they used in the previous German-language tour and the endless concerts). It still is a little pared-down, don’t expect 04-05 Vienna opulence, but the choices made feel more like they were made for creative reasons than simply so the show is moveable. There are screens, yes, but they are used in interesting fashion, and the sets that are used call back to older stagings in interesting ways as well as bringing a fresh new approach. I would love a bit more opulence, but I won’t deny that watching the Toho and Takarazuka productions a lot specifically primes you to look for that.

The costumes I am a bit more in the middle about; there are fewer and they are more simple at times than I would like, but there are also a number of really beautiful costumes and I once again do understand why they did what they did; it’s a deliberate choice, and I respect that. The one thing I’ll say here and not in spoilers because I have the picture up anyway; I fucking LOVE that they gave de Dood back his red coat. Original Dutch Death Stanley Burleson had a red coat and devilish motif, and I utterly love that they brought that back for Milan. It feels a little bit uniquely Dutch, I don’t recall any other recurring productions that use it a lot, and that makes me immensely fond of it.

The cast is absolutely incredible and I have essentially nothing but good things to say. Danique Dusée is amazing as Young Sisi, she has a really incredible way of bringing both a real boisterous youthful energy while also pulling of incredible vulnerability, without coming across as helpless. It was impressive to see, and I really enjoyed her Sisi. I also really like her singing, though I miss the very high soprano type Sisi vocals, her voice is beautiful and I enjoyed it immensely. I also really loved getting to see Pia Douwes actually performing Elisabeth, instead of just singing. I’ve seen her in concert a bunch of times now but this hit so different. While you can tell that she is getting on in years and her voice is perhaps not quite what it once was, I super just do not care. Her acting is truly amazing and you can just feel how much she’s lived and embodied this part. I really appreciated that they used a switch-cast, it created a very interesting change in dynamic with Death, and it was overall very well done (minor spoiler, I suppose, but it’s relevant to know that this isn’t like the concert versions and the switch takes place at the end of act 1, during the reprise of Ich Gehör nur Mir).

I loved Milan van Waardenburg as de Dood, he’s super bitchy and sassy and FUN, and as I already said the red coat just, chef’s kiss. His voice is beautiful, he hits both beautiful low notes and insanely high ones, and his chemistry with both Pia and Danique was amazing.

As for the rest of the cast, I really liked William Spaaij as Lucheni, he’s very fun but also gets very dark at times. My one complaint is that his Italian pronunciation isn’t that great, and it would have been nice to see an actual Italian as Lucheni for ONCE, but that’s not his fault. Guido Gottenbos’ Franz-Joseph is incredibly sympathetic (if terribly foolish) and his voice is really warm and beautiful. I don’t usually have a lot of sympathy for Franz, but he really sold it. And he somehow worked with both young and older Sisi, which I’ve certainly seem happen differently. AND ANN VAN DEN BROECK AS SOPHIE!!!!! Holy hells she was perfect and I adore her and it’s no surprise that my favourite European Sisi would also be my favourite European Sophie, I suppose. She sells the humanity of Sophie so well, and while she is terribly cruel you can see that she doesn’t mean badly. Chef’s kiss. No notes. Please, I want to see her play Old Sisi someday as well. Ronald Jorritsma was a very endearing Rudolf, even though his role was significantly cut down (not in time on stage, but in relevance, further elaboration in the spoiler section). The ensemble was also very good, with some incredibly beautiful and powerful voices and a lot of really cool energy. Noah Bellaart, the Young Rudolf I saw, was also very talented!

Overall, I can just say that this was a really really solid new addition. The cast was excellent, and the sets and costumes (though I missed some small aspects there) were really good. I have some critical points, but I will elaborate those below, because they’re all super spoilery and honestly? I would recommend going into this almost blind. It was really fun to discover the new things they did and the changes they made in the theatre in my seat. So if you’re going to see it? Don’t read this next part, come back once you have. If you just want to live vicariously through my endless rambling; read on:

Spoiler Review

Right. So. SPOILERS TIME. This is going to be not chronological and kind of thematic, so uh, strap in.

Let me start with the big things; this show takes a more abstract approach to some things than the older staging does, filled with different and new metaphors that are really fascinating to me. It is very Dutch in that some things feel a little more toned down, but in ways that I found to be very very interesting. The first big thing is that Lucheni is not questioned by a judge, he is questioned by the Ensemble. They each ask him questions in turn as Sisi is already on stage, lying prone at the centre of a turning section of the stage. As the prologue winds down she is essentially resurrected in front of our eyes and the black mourning clothes are torn off her by the ensemble, before she is tumbled back into her own story. For the entire rest of the show, the Ensemble (when not in specific courtly roles) show up in painters outfits and carrying easels, and paint whatever scene is taking place in front of them. They are, because of this, almost constantly on stage. This fits in really well with the projections/screens they do use, because they are nearly all paintings or drawings of Sisi or the other major characters. Similarly, Sisi, Death and Lucheni also barely ever leave the stage. Like I said, we start with Danique already right there, but she barely ever leaves at all. Because of this painter theme, there is also a large blue ‘person’ puppet that Franz is posing with at some point which was hilarious, especially because Sisi rearranges it comfortably onto a chair later.

This does also lead to one of the things I like less, that is that she has way fewer costumes than is ‘usual’ and runs around in her white ‘nightgown’ for a very large part of Act 1. While I understand the choice (both as a practical one and a symbolic one, it makes her stand out against all the historical costumes around her), I do miss some of her other costumes and I did think it odd she was going to Hungary in her nightgown. It does contrast beautifully with Pia’s black nightgown in Act 2, though.

So, the biggest interesting change for me is probably Elisabeth smokes now. I know she historically did so anyway, but it’s never been in the musical before. If you had told me before I went to see, I would have been very sceptical about it, because it feels like that’s just the thing in all the movies about her right now and I would have worried it was gonna be tacky. It is very much not. Oh, about that, Death also smokes. He has one of those old fashioned stick things that you stick a cigarette into and it is. So much. It really suits him and the smoke creates an excellent effect. And the way they integrated it was just really really cool. So basically he offers her a smoke, a bunch of times, and whether or not she takes it is very intimately related to the state of her mental health. There is the moment after she gives Franz the letter, when he shows up and they sit down on a ledge together and Sisi offers Death a smoke, and something about that image crawled right into my brain and gave me the brainworms. It’s like he’s a personification of all of her bad habits, her bad thoughts; almost less like Death and more a manifestation of self-destruction. It’s really cool and the energy it brings is somehow both way more toned down than some of the big choreographies they’ve had in the past, but also incredibly raw and emotional in a way that gets what they mean across just so, so well.

Danique, as stated, is incredibly capable of showing both Sisi’s strength and her vulnerability. She is very powerful during Ich Gehör nur Mir, and then after baby Sophie’s death there is a sadness and misery to her that I don’t think I’ve seen in that moment in quite that way before. The kind of drag out the moment a tad longer, in more silence than it is in a lot of productions, which means there is a moment where Franz walks in to comfort her and she basically cowers away from him against Sophie’s coffin, raising both her arms and hiding, and it utterly destroyed me.

Pia’s acting is just utterly incredible. Because they get to switch halfway, the power differential between Death and Sisi changes, and that is really something I don’t think I’ve ever experienced quite this starkly. She somehow speaks to Death both as an old friend and an annoying ex, with deep familiarity born of history together. She’s so regal and powerful and there’s something so very sad about her, while also tapping into some of the callousness and dejection really well. She really leaned into the emotion. One of the things I’m not super fond of in Act 2 is that the smoking escalates to her injecting herself with coke, which, again does make sense historically but it was a bit much and I’m not sure that we needed it, and also she does it at the end of Wenn Ich Tanzen Will which is supposed to be her moment of triumph and that felt like it really undercut that.

I fucking loved Nichts, Nichts, but then I always do, because I am just like that. The entire scene in the madhouse was really heartbreaking, and her dress was incredible. She gets a purple dress with black gulls along the skirt, which just was absolutely gorgeous.

Like I said above, Milan as Death was something else. I felt like he really fit in well with the Dutch Death’s tradition; he’s cold and calculating and mean. I didn’t really get a romantic vibe from him with Sisi at all, even though he states lyrically that he loves her. It feels more like wanting to possess her, and honestly he really did feel like more of a manifestation of the depression and the bad habits than anything else. Like that mean voice in your head, the devil on your shoulder. I adore it. He was really fun and bitchy and super fun with Lucheni as well. Also, if smoking is bad for you why does it look so cool (on stage, in real life I actually do think it's disgusting). I also found the choices with his choreography very interesting. He moves around less than a lot of previous Death’s, but in standing imperiously in corners and watching he is somehow incredibly menacing. It was really cool.

As is regular now, Schwarze Prinz is replaced by Kein Kommen Ohne Gehen, and for the first time in ever that didn’t make me want to throw things. Danique and Milan sold it pretty well, even though I do still prefer the other version.

The change from having a judge to having the ensemble question Lucheni also changed his entire relationship with them, which was very interesting. Lucheni seems very ambivalent to Sisi, and the change from him claiming she wanted to die at the beginning of the piece to him admitting that she just Was There at the end is somehow much more prominent like this. William plays him very dark, at times also kind of miserable himself, and while he and Death interact I feel like a little bit less, Lucheni is ALWAYS paying attention to him.

One of the other major changes is Schatten. This one is going to be controversial, I already know that. During the song, both Sisi and Lucheni are on stage in the background. Sisi has just done drugs, and Lucheni is cutting his own chest with a piece of a broken mirror he hurled at Sisi earlier. This, as it is as you can guess, INTENSE, is kind of really distracting from Rudolf. This is what I meant when I said Rudolf’s role is smaller; he’s very much less the focus of the story. Death really doesn’t seem to give a single fuck about him, he’s really just using him for his own gain, and because his big duet with Death is very busy now I found myself unable to focus quite so well on him. He’s still really good, especially in Spiegel, but he’s just drawing a lot less focus. The contrast to this is that Rudolf does just stay on stage for a very long time, in the background of other scenes, before his death. He is lying on the floor on stage when Sisi returns at the beginning of Spiegel. There also isn’t a kiss between him and Death, instead he aims in his mouth as Death just watches on impassively, uncaring as the ensemble lifts and carries him offstage and one of them returns with a candle. Similarly, when Sisi begs him to take her too, he doesn’t even consider it; he just straight up tells her ‘no’ with a cold smile on his face, which is quite a lot less conflicted and angry than he often is in that scene. Basically the entire energy is different, and while I’ve found that I do in fact like it, if Rudolf is your boy then I imagine this entire thing will be disappointing. Usually I’m more up in arms if Death and Rudolf don’t even kiss, but somehow it makes a lot of sense for this version where the ‘romantic’ appeal of Death to the characters seems a lot more absent anyway.

Hass is as disconcerting as always, which was to be expected, but I think they’ve gotten better at integrating it with the story. I have some complicated feelings about Rudolf being the character trying to warn others of n*zis, effectively casting him in a very heroic light, what with the rest of his messy history, but at the same time I think it was important in the current climate to extra emphasise that n*zi’s are BAD (because apparently people don’t just always know that anymore), and having one of the major characters specifically point that out makes the scene read less ambiguously as I know some people have taken it in the past. I don’t like the scene, but I can still acknowledge that it’s important to have in the show.

Am Deck was really well done. Lucheni shows up with fake skulls and starts talking to and about them, and I (because archaeologists are a little weird) found this both incredible funny and a really good addition. The face-off between Death and Franz is really well done, and I really enjoyed it.

The ending felt ominous, not happy, to me, which I really really like. It felt very reminiscent of the 1999 production, which I really enjoy.

Overall the script was largely based on 1999, but I could tell that they have updated it in a variety of ways and I also recognised some of the 2009 Antwerp texts. There are some lyrics that I wish they’d changed but haven’t (we still have to deal with ‘ik houd niet van huichelarij’ which I just think is a silly line), but overall I thought this was a very good translation that’s been updated to the times very well. They also changed ‘muisje’ (mouse) to ‘kikker’ (frog), when Rudolf tells Death what he killed that day, which SURE HELPS WITH NOT HAVING ME MISHEAR IT AS ‘meisje’ (girl). So Thank You to whomever changed that. They also changed something in the lyrics to Letzte Tanz which I really enjoyed. They updated it overall but they did something very fun where the second line went from:

“de laatste dans, de laatste dans, dans ik alleen met jou”

“de laatste dans, de laatste, dans ik alleen met jou”

Which is really fun wordplay if you ask me and Milan pulled it off really well.

Overall, I just have to give this show an absolutely 10/10. Sure there are some choices that I may have made differently, but I am just super excited that they made new choices at all. Absolutely tipping my hat to the entire creative team, the people updating the lyrics, the set design and the cast itself. Thank you for the wonderful experience. I am 100% gonna go see this again.

Oh, and if you want me to ramble on more just ask me questions. I fully must have forgotten some of it already.

#elisabeth das musical #elisabeth de musical #pia douwes #danique dusee #milan van waardenburg #sisi

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so-so-woso · 1 year ago

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i wanna be the one | part 1

Edit: Changed title. Thanks to Dru for the suggestion. From the song "Things We Never Say" by the Bad Bad Hats. Great song, potentially relevant maybe who knows.

Summary: Reader is an English-American GK who joins the Arsenal squad and ends up in an interesting back and forth with Leah Williamson. This chapter is mainly set-up for the future. The vibes will probably be very different going forward lol

Warnings: Angst, swallowing self-doubt, and mentions of parental death in the first section.

Word Count: 3,284

London felt just like Seattle. You were expecting it to feel different, more European (whatever that meant), but when you stepped out of the airport and that familiar January rain hit your skin, it was a welcome feeling. It wasn’t quite Home – you hadn’t had one of those in a long time – but it was definitely welcoming, and nice enough that you didn’t bother with an umbrella. It would’ve been hard enough trying to carry one along with all your bags anyway, although by the look on your driver’s face he really wished you had at least tried. It was nice that the team had sent a car to meet you, especially since you didn’t really know anyone here that well, but you supposed they would do that for any new signing. The driver helped you get your bags into the car and then you were off to the club to dot some Is and cross some Ts to make everything truly official.

Wistful thoughts crept into the back of your mind as you were chauffeured through the streets of London, and you decided for the first time in a long time not to fight them. Not here, anyway – not now. Not after everything it took to get you here. Get you here again, technically. You were born in London after all, and raised in Sheffield where your mother had grown up. Your father was an American, from Dallas, who came to England for graduate school and stayed for the woman he fell in love with. He often teased her about “real (American) football” but she converted him to Sheffield United fan, though he would never admit it – at least not until you were born. Match days became a family event as soon as you could stand up on your own, even though you were still too young to really remember anything at that point, but by the time you could run you wanted nothing more than to play. You were always bigger than the other kids so they made you play with the boys, but you knew a lot of the women’s national team players had played on boys’ teams growing up, so you didn’t mind it. You were never upset about that, but you were upset when they made you move to the goalkeeper position when you were eight. It was the boring position and you never got to do anything, but you were the only kid on the team who didn’t seem scared of the ball when it came flying at you, so the job fell to you. Many years later, it would prove to be the right choice, but for a while you thought it felt like a punishment from the universe. Then you found out what that kind of punishment actually felt like.

You were only eleven when your parents died. It was a car accident; your mom was driving. She took the brunt of it and was gone by the time the ambulance arrived. Your dad was in the hospital for two days, but he never woke up. You had been in the back seat. Heavy bruising, a busted ribs, broken collarbone, and a big gash across the side of the head was it for you. You were in the hospital too, for a while. Your paternal grandmother came all the way from Austin to pick you up and take you to live with her. Your mom’s parents had been gone for a while now, and GiGi – what you had called your father’s mother – was all you had left. You had only met her a few times before, but you didn’t really have another option, so across the pond you went.

It would be a massive understatement to say that Texas was different from Sheffield. It was truly a whole different world, but kids are resilient enough. You were famous for a while, because of your accent, and then you were weird for a while, because of your accent, and then eventually you became just one of the kids. Your GiGi was supportive as well, more than you had expected her to be. You didn’t know much of the specifics as a kid, but you knew she and your father had had some sort of falling out and weren’t as close as they had been when he was younger. You always thought it had to do with him choosing to stay in England rather than come home to America. When you got older it seemed like maybe there was more to it than that, but GiGi wouldn’t talk about it. She did help you get into therapy, so that you could learn how to process what had happened and all the big changes that came with it. You didn’t like it at the time, but in hindsight it was probably the best thing she could’ve done. She even started trying to learn about football – soccer – too, because she knew you liked it, and she made sure to sign you up for the local league. You think maybe that time doesn’t heal wounds, but it sort of scabs them over enough that they only hurt when you pick at them, so eventually you learn to stop picking at them, and after that life became kind of normal.

You eventually played soccer in high school – goalkeeper, naturally – and were good enough to get recruited to the University of Texas. From there, the NWSL draft sent you to Seattle for the OL Reign. You spent a season as the third-string goalkeeper, then a season as the second-string, and then were presented with an opportunity you couldn’t dare turn down. It had been Kim Little’s idea, apparently. She had only played with you in Seattle for a month or so, and you never really hung out, but she knew you had grown up in England and that you had really wanted the chance to play football in Europe. She would tell you later that she was impressed with your resilience, something you had heard often growing up, and that you had a “dead brilliant reaction speed” which you guessed sounded good. So when Arsenal’s back-up goalkeeper transferred out and they were weighing their options, she suggested they give you a look. She had said it offhandedly, like it wasn’t a big deal, but you would wager she fought harder for you than she let on. You had only played a handful of games in two seasons, and while you were admittedly good, the offer from the English club still came as a massive surprise. They were up front and adamant about your status as a pure back-up to Zinsberger, and while you would’ve had a decent chance to win the starting spot in Seattle, you just couldn’t say no to European football, to England, to the Arsenal.

That’s how you ended up in the back of a dark car being driven through the streets of north London in the pouring rain. Your fingers fiddled absently at the chain around your neck and the two golden bands that hung from it while you considered everything that led you here, hoping that you made the right choice. Only time would tell, you thought, as the car squealed to a slow stop. You hesitated for a long moment before tucking the necklace under your shirt and moving to exit the vehicle. The driver met you at the car door, an umbrella extended overhead. You were taller than him, so you had to awkwardly bend your neck as he moved to close the door behind you.

“This shouldn’t take long,” he said, “Then we’ll get you home.” You thanked him and stuffed your fists in the pockets of your coat as you followed him up to the club, your stomach slowly rising higher and higher into your throat as the series of decisions you had recently made began to congeal rather quickly into a hard reality. It was some grotesque mix of nerves and excitement and fear that just fully slapped you in the face when you stepped inside the building. You hadn’t felt like this in Seattle, or on the plane, or in the car, but now that you were here, physically, it’s like everything else was physical too. It wasn’t some amorphous Choice floating in the metaphorical ether of your life; it was a foreboding Presence leering down at you, clawing at your shoulders from behind, and whispering ‘you don’t deserve this’ into your psyche. Nausea began to swell up, to the point you were just starting to feel dizzy. Out of instinct you reached forward and put your hand on the driver’s shoulder, who stopped walking to turn and see what you needed. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but was interrupted by a distinctly Scottish, “Oh ‘ey, Tex!” behind you.

You both turned to see Kim Little striding down the hallway, followed closely by Jonas and one of the other coaches. You swallowed hard, all the torturous feelings slowly fading away as you saw a familiar face. “Hey, Little Kim, “ you retorted. She scoffed and faked a jab towards your ribs before she reached up to hug you.

“Welcome to the party,” she said, stepping back to introduce the coaches, who shook your hands. They welcomed you as well and explained that the evening would be brief, they were sure you’d be tired from the flight, but just needed to finalize some things on the business side and then Kim would give a tour of the facilities. You thanked them, probably too many times, and went with them all to finish your paperwork and pick up your official training gear. Your kit wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow since they’d have to put your name on and weren’t sure what number you wanted (you picked 18 because it was available and made sense for a goalkeeper). Kim showed you around, asked about the flight, and made you feel as welcome as she thought she could. It was nice to talk to someone for a while. You weren’t exactly an extrovert, but you were Southern enough you enjoyed being around people, and being able to talk to Kim, even if it was more or less small talk, made you feel better, and by the time the tour was done all of the earlier feelings were forgotten. You started to think that maybe this whole thing was a good idea after all.

“So no rest for the weary – first training tomorrow, yeah? Text me your address and I’ll pick you up. Since you won’t have a car, Uber’s always an option, but until you get sorted, you can get rides with me,” Kim said.

“Sounds good. Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m picking you up extra early tomorrow – the girls’ll want to meet you before kickin’ balls at your head.”

“Well, I guess that’s only polite.”

You both laughed and hugged goodbye before heading your separate ways, you pulling out your phone to look up your new address to send it to Kim. This was a good decision, you thought, this was a good decision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your apartment – or flat? – was nicer than you expected it to be. You had done a Zoom tour while you were still in Seattle and it looked fine, but you had tempered your expectations to be safe. Turns out, you didn’t need to. It was a two-bedroom and furnished with the basics, so there was plenty of space for you and plenty room to decorate as you saw fit. You had what was sometimes described as an eclectic taste by your friends, mainly because you liked to decorate with things that made you happy. That seems like an obvious thing to decorate with, but you were kind of – literally – a giant dork, which meant you had a lot of “nerd shit” as your friends would tease. You expected the Arsenal girls would do the same if they ever started coming over, but all of that would be a long time coming. Tonight, all you wanted to do was collapse into bed, which is exactly what you did.

Kim wasn’t lying when she said she’d pick you up early. At least she had the decency to bring you coffee, but she was completely taken aback when you admitted you didn’t really drink coffee and actually preferred tea. “Guess there is some English in you after all,” she had joked as she drove. She asked about your night and how you slept, and pointed out all the important-to-know shops and stops between your apartment and the training center. When you finally arrived, you asked her if she accepted tips for her tour knowledge – to which she responded with “only big bills”. You laughed as you retrieved your bag from the back of her car, and the two of you headed in.

The next few days were an absolute blur. You were introduced to everyone, and they all seemed pretty nice. McCabe kept talking about how tall you were, but from how everyone else acted that was normal. Manu was happy to have another goalkeeper in the squad despite the fact you would both technically be competing for the starting spot, even though you were explicitly hired as a back-up. At least it didn’t seem like there would be any weird hurt feelings or anything there, so you were glad for that. All your other time was spent trying to discern personality types and team dynamics, and also actually training. The coaches had told you they wouldn’t expect you to go full on for the first few days to give you time to acclimate to everything. You thanked them, of course, but that didn’t stop you from diving in head first.

By the time your official day three was over, you wished you had taken it a little easier. It felt like jet lag hit you late, on top of the normal physical tiredness of training. But that evening as the team as the team filtered out of the locker room, Katie McCabe slapped you on the back and said, “Drinks on you tonight, mate!” You turned to look at her, but before you could ask, Kim interrupted with a sharp “Katie–“

“Hold on, hold on! I don’t mean a big to-do, but we gotta welcome the newbie right, right?”

A couple of the other players voiced their agreement and Kim rolled her eyes. “Two drink maximum.”

“Four.”

“Two.”

“Three?”

“Two, McCabe.”

“Two and shots?”

“…”

“Two…and shots?”

“…one shot.”

“Fuck yes, best captain ever! You’re riding with us, Y/N!”

A mix of confusion and amusement spread across your face as you looked between the two of them, and Kim just shook her head and waved at you to go with Katie, so you let yourself be pulled away into whatever the night would bring.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite telling you that you were paying for drinks, Katie was nice enough to only make you buy the shots, and despite Kim’s hesitance at you all going out mid-week, it was a surprisingly calm evening. You ended up sitting at a table with just a handful of your new teammates. Most of them were joking around with each other, teasing and taunting. You sat quietly, unsure of how inserting yourself into the dynamic would come off. You thought of a few quips throughout the conversations, but made sure to hold your tongue, choosing to sip on your beer instead.

“You always this quiet?”

You glanced over in the direction of the voice, inadvertently locking eyes with Leah Williamson. You knew who she was, obviously – won the Euros and all. What you hadn’t known was that she was even more attractive in person. You didn’t even know that was possible, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise.

“Not usually,” you responded, drawing in a breath. “Just can’t get a word in edgewise with this one goin’ off.”

You gestured towards Katie, who didn’t even register the comment. It did get a chuckle out of Steph and Foord, though, which made you relax a bit. Looking back at Leah, she was still looking at you, but didn’t seem to react otherwise. You paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek, before deciding to just go for it.

“So in the summer do you ever get a weird tan on your forehead from frowning so much?”

That did draw Katie’s attention; you could tell from the way she practically guffawed.

“Oy, she’s got you dead to fuckin’ rights!” she said, leaning over to elbow at Leah. The Aussies had laughed as well, as did Kim. Leah didn’t look impressed at the remark, but from the twitch of her lips you would swear she was biting back a smile. She had nice lips. Were you staring at her lips? Your eyes flashed back up to hers and she was still looking at you. She would’ve been able to tell where you were staring. That’s…embarrassing. You swallowed hard, and quickly looked away, taking a long swig of your drink. If anyone else at the table noticed the interaction, they didn’t react. Katie started in on you immediately, dragging you into whatever she had been talking about before, and from there you spent the rest of the evening integrating yourself into the team.

The bar was really only starting to fill up when Kim decided it was time for you all to get a move on. There was some light-hearted grumbling, but everyone was professional enough to know how to behave. You had popped into the toilet before leaving, and when you came out of the stall, Leah was washing her hands. You hesitated for a brief moment before moving up to the sink next to her to wash your own hands, the little bit of alcohol you consumed tonight just enough to embolden you.

“Man, Williamson, what kind of a world is this where you’ve got those legs and no rhythm,” you teased, quickly busying yourself with the most thorough hand-wash you’ve ever done so you didn’t have to look over at her and see how poorly she took the remark.

“You spend a lot of time thinking about my legs?”

You froze. It would seem she didn’t take it too poorly at all. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you turned off the sink and turned to look at her. She was staring at you again. Seemed like maybe she did that a lot.

“Yeah, maybe,” you finally said. She hmmed a bit and cocked her head to the side. The glint in her eye was the only thing that kept you from worrying you were being too forward, and you silently prayed it wasn’t a trick of the fluorescent lighting overhead.

“You think you’re being all charming, with your little jokes?”

“No, not really,” you shrugged. “I think I have the personality of a 14-year-old boy and it’s the only way I know how to flirt with you.”

Leah changed at that. Her posture shifted. Her shoulders dropped slightly. The glint in her eye was gone. You fucked up, you thought. You’ve been here for four days and you already fucked up.

You moved to apologize at the same time Leah moved to respond, but both of you were interrupted by the door to the bathroom slamming open and a group of girls rushing in. You turned around and pushed yourself up against the edge of the sink to get out of the way, but Leah dipped her head down and shoved out past them, taking the opportunity to escape without you being able to stop her.

Yep. You fucked up.

#woso #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #woso fanfics #woso x reader #arsenal x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson

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redflagshipwriter · 9 months ago

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Nest Swap 9

masterpost

Having a mission changed everything.

Tim took full advantage of his new knowledge of the holy manuals. The first rule that he took to heart was that he was meant to be armed. Of course! It made sense.

Unfortunately, he was also not meant to take any weapon onto the field that he hadn’t trained with. Tim thought hard for a while whether or not a suburban house counted as ‘in the field’, but it seemed like he should pay lip service to Batman’s rule. So he got some sharp things that seemed interesting and spent some time throwing them at a target. They kind of looked like Batarangs, but… different.

“I don’t think bats change shape in the next ten years or so,” Tim muttered. He gave another half hearted throw. The thing dinged off the wall below his target. “So this isn’t meant to be a bat shape. Did Batman rebrand to the Birdman and no one fixed his wiki page yet? Is this a parallel universe and not my actual future?”

It occurred to him that it might be a bird because of Robin. But come on, Robins didn’t use sharp things. Robin was a child. It was irresponsible for children to use blades.

Tim sent another thingy into the wall. It hit with the pointy end first this time and sank an inch into the wall to the right of the target. He held his breath as it wiggled for a moment. Then it went still without falling.

“Yes!” He punched the air. Thank gosh! He was getting bored with that. It was good to be done with training. It was kind of dull.

Steps one and two were finished. He had a weapon and he had trained with it. Tim went back to his list. The next technical skill set was lock picking. That was super easy and fun! Tim enjoyed the clear diagrams and explanations. There wasn’t anything to practice with, but he thought that he had the concept down handily. He grabbed a set of lockpicks for his khaki pockets.

He needed to do a little more to understand the patterns of the target, as well as their background. Tim considered asking Jason for any information, but he probably didn’t have any. Maybe he wasn’t very good at googling. So he just did it. The Sausage Guy was more commonly known as Benedict Orange, a name that Tim really liked and mentally stored away to use as an alias when he was a superhero.

Anyway. Tim figured out how old the guy was, where he’d gone to school, and a bunch of other stuff like the record of his marriage ten years ago.

“Huh,” Tim said, brows furrowed. “I didn’t find a divorce record. But he’s single now?” Mr. Orange had accounts on a lot of dating sites. He was using his engagement photo for the profile photo, with his wife cut out.

That was weird. He tried to find the wife, but there wasn’t anything more recent than 8 years ago, when she’d announced that she was quitting her job on social media.

…Tim had kind of a bad feeling about that.

He put a pin in it for now, but he had a small theory at the back of his mind that started with ‘I think this guy killed his wife.’

Maybe that was how the human sausage thing started. Maybe he’d killed her on impulse and then needed a way to get rid of the body. And then maybe he’d gotten a taste for it.

Tim shuddered. Okay, okay, he was for real done thinking about this! Big yucky.

Benny Orange was an office worker with a title that Tim didn’t really understand. It seemed vague to the point of uselessness, but then again, that was office work. The relevant thing was that he got home around 6 pm, and he left at 8 am.

It was 10 in the morning. Tim could get over there and toss Benny’s home before the end of the workweek if he hurried. The manual said that you should never spend more than an hour investigating an unsecured location. It also said that you should file a report or directly inform someone of where you’d be.

That part made Tim pause for a moment before he remembered that he’d told Jason. Jason would probably check on him when he woke up, or whatever.

Tim found an equipment belt that he could wrap around his waist twice to buckle on. He put his sharp things in it. Then he untucked his shirt, because he had tucked it in out of habit and that would make it harder to access his weapons. He frowned as he did it. It just felt wrong.

He put on his shoes and got out the door. He didn’t have a lot of time to waste if he wanted to be able to take his time, so Tim hailed a taxi to cross most of the distance this time. He was grateful that Mrs. Henderson was gone and there was no chance of seeing her. Last time had been a little bit of a disaster. Needing civilian help to get into the building was not a winning move.

He had bat-approved lockpicks this time. He went to the front door and did his best.

It turned out that maybe he should have practiced? Tim started to sweat out in the open. It felt like someone was staring at his back. He looked at the houses around. No one was at their windows or walking outside. He started jumping whenever the tall herbs in Mr. Orange's garden swayed in the breeze. He had a lot of plants.

His hands were shaking. The sweat made his shirt stick to his back. He was going to get caught and in so much trouble.

When the door finally opened, Tim offered up a thanks to Bast, because he assumed the cat goddess was more likely to be pro-breaking and entering than other gods. That logic was just based off of what he knew about Catwoman, honestly.

The first glimpse into Benedict Orange's home was disappointingly normal. He had vinyl flooring (easy to clean!), leather furniture, and a big flat TV high up on the wall. He didn’t have enough knickknacks and there was no art. There was a wood and glass case that was full of identical, unlabeled bottles with something red in it. Hot sauce? Was he a hot sauce guy?

Tim mentally reclassified Mr. Orange further down the list of ‘people I could talk to at a cocktail party.’

The place had the same layout as Mrs. Henderson’s place, just in reverse. Tim beelined to the kitchen because.. Well.

He just did.

The counter space where Mrs. Henderson had a hot water kettle, a big stand mixer, and a toaster was mostly clear here. Mr. Orange only had one piece of cooking machinery. Tim didn’t know it. He squinted at it. It was a big shiny stainless steel thing. It had a metal tray, a wheel, and like… a nozzle. When he climbed on a chair to look down, he could see there was a little tunnel tube thing where you could put stuff inside the body of the machine.

Weird. Moving on!

He checked inside the fridge. He stared for a moment of aghast silence. There was a stack of takeout containers, a bunch of seasonings in the door, and a stack of tupperware with something red in them.

Cautiously, Tim dug one out and opened it.

“That’s raw meat,” he said, voice high. He put the box back in and then hesitated. Maybe he should be like, taking it? Or taking a sample? To see what animal it came from?

“I’ll think about it.” Tim shut the fridge a little harder than he needed to and beat feet out of the kitchen. He started checking the other rooms. He found the master bedroom. His nose wrinkled. “I don’t think he’s restyled this since Brenda died,” Tim complained. He looked at the curtains with extreme judgment. They were so outdated it wasn’t even funny, but they also weren’t retro yet!

Oh. Wait. Belatedly, Tim remembered that it was ten years into his future. So, maybe they were retro now. Anyways, Brenda had liked the trend for chickens and roosters. There were chickens and roosters everywhere in the decor, including a cute print of what was obviously intended to be a husband and wife pair snuggling on a sofa.

His heart hurt a little. He looked at it a little too long.

Tim took a deep breath. Then he went back to looking for evidence. There wasn’t much in the bedroom, so clearly Mr. Orange had a personal office elsewhere. There were two more rooms in the apartment.

Tim opened the next door. The room was mostly a guest bedroom, with the notable exception of a huge chest freezer and a weird long wooden bar across the room.

Tim shut the door.

The last room was the office. There was a desk, a file cabinet, and a lockbox full of women’s drivers licenses.

“Yeah, okay,” Tim said under his breath. “He’s a serial killer.” He took photos and sent them to Jason immediately with the subject line “Yeah he’s a killer!!!”

Then he got down to sorting through the papers to see if there was anything else. Jason was a Robin, Tim supposed, so he’d need the evidence to show the police. It would be helpful if he just went and sorted it out now. He found warranties for the TV, the new freezer, and he presumed that ‘Meat Grinder’ meant the thing in the kitchen.

“I appreciate that he’s so organized, actually,” Tim muttered. He was hunched over digging through the bottom drawer now.

A key went into a door.

Tim froze stock still. He slowly, silently shut the drawer. He stared at the closed door to the living room. On the other side of it, Mr. Orange unlocked and opened the front door. Tim slowly looked up, saw 12:14 on the clock, and vaguely registered that sometimes people come home on their lunch breaks.

The front door shut. There was a quiet metal sound that Tim thought was probably the chain lock. The chain lock that was too high for him to move without a chair to stand on.

Okay. Uh. He looked around for a place to hide. The best option was under the desk. Tim crawled through the legs of the chair, heart beating furiously.

He weighed his options. Wait it out and hope Mr. Orange didn’t come in?

…Seemed risky. But there was no way he was going to run out past the guy to the front door. At least, the odds that he’d get grabbed were just not good, not when he didn’t know where Mr. Orange was.

Alright. Tim knew reality. He might not be able to get out of this on his own. At the very least, he should let Jason know what was going on so that they could add his murder to the list of charges. And maybe Jason was close by to help? Wayne Manor was awfully far away, so probably not. But it didn’t hurt to try.

He got his phone back out and was silently very glad that he had it. Jason had responded to his message. Tim didn’t take the time to read it, instead typing up a blank email with the subject line “um might need help asap :( he here”. He sent it. Then he huddled down to wait.

Noises came from the kitchen- the suction as the fridge opened. The beep of the microwave. A man’s voice saying, “What the fuck? Did I leave this here?”

His blood turned ice cold.

‘What did I do?’ Tim desperately tried to remember what he’d touched in the kitchen. Had he really moved something around? He didn’t remember anything! His heart rate went up like crazy.

The door opened. Tim flinched. His whole body started shaking uncontrollably.

Oh. No. It wasn’t this door yet. It was the door to the next room, the spare bedroom. He heard the weird squelch of the chest freezer opening. Then the closet door squeaked open. Something heavy moved around.

“Well, it wasn’t you,” said Mr. Orange. There was a mean satisfaction in his tone. The heavy thing moved again.

Tim’s brain went a bit blank.

Who was he talking to? Was there someone in the apartment? Hidden behind something heavy?

He opened up another email. Jason hadn’t responded, so there was no way to know if he’d seen. Tim hastily typed up, “I think there’s a living hostage in the house” and sent it as the door to the office opened.

He hugged his arms around his knees and squeezed his eyes shut. Oh gosh. Oh heck. Oh no, oh no. He bit his lower lip and broke skin.

‘No. I can’t be a baby about this.’

It was really hard with how stiff his fingers felt. But Tim put the phone in his pocket and wrestled the sharp bird weapon out. He held it clumsily. And he watched Mr. Orange’s feet move around the room. They walked around the room. He saw the curtains move as Mr. Orange pulled them to check no one was hiding there. Then he knew that Mr. Orange was coming to his hiding spot.

Tim swallowed. He waited until Mr. Orange’s feet were in sight. He stabbed his sharp thing down through the top of Mr. Orange’s sock.

Mr. Orange bellowed and fell back against his filing cabinet.

Tim scrambled out and ran.

He went towards the front door on automatic and nearly got there before he looked up and saw that yes, the chain lock was on. He couldn’t reach it.

“You little shit!” Mr. Orange bellowed. He lunged at Tim. Tim barely dodged. He jabbed at him again without looking and barreled towards the door to Mrs. Henderson’s apartment. It only had a doorknob lock. He unlatched it, praying that she had not changed her ideas about the open door policy. The door handle turned.

He threw himself into the room and slammed the door shut. He clicked the little button lock.

Mr. Orange hit the door, hard. It shook. He wasn’t saying anything anymore. There was something about that which struck Tim as absolutely terrifying. Didn’t people bellow and yell when they were mad?

He looked towards Mrs. Henderson’s door. The door shook again as Mr. Orange hit it.

Wood splintered.

If he went out Mrs. Henderson’s front door he could sprint for it. What were the odds he could outrun a grown man? If he did, wouldn’t Mr. Orange just get in his car? Potential witnesses had made Mr. Orange back off before, but he was more invested now in silencing Tim. And there was no one around. Tim had checked.

The door splintered again. He could see Mr. Orange’s shoulder. Then a socked foot.

‘I don’t think I stabbed his foot well enough,’ some distant part of Tim’s brain catalogued. ‘He’s still moving on it. If I live past this, I’m going to commit to the next stabbing with more enthusiasm.’

He bolted for the stand where Mrs. Henderson kept her mace. He was just out of sight from Mr. Orange’s hole in the door. His heart thudded so loud. His shaking had stopped. The mace didn’t feel heavy.

‘If I was taller, i’d aim for the face. I can’t pull that off. I’ll aim for center mass. He may block with an arm, but theoretically his arm will be hurt enough that I’ll be able to pull back and make another swing.’

There was a catastrophic smash from inside Mr. Orange’s apartment.

Then a “What the fuck-” that got cut off a little early. Mr. Orange sounded mad and confused.

A thud. Two smaller thuds. A clicking. Tim wanted so badly to know what was going on.

A hand reached through the hole in the door and unlatched the lock.

Tim swallowed. He readied a swing.

The door opened.

Tim took a step forward and swung Mrs. Henderson’s antique mace with maximum strength directly into the armored center mass of a guy who was NOT Mr. Orange.

“Oh my gosh,” Tim said, horrified, at the instant he connected. The guy was looking forward. He looked down too late, just as the mace hit.

There was sort of a bounce. The mace bounced back off the tummy armor without digging in or drawing blood. Half of Tim was relieved, and half was terrified that his plan had failed.

The guy doubled over and made a sound that was a lot like GURK. He clutched at his torso with one arm and pointed a gun at Tim with the other.

Tim put his hands up.

The guy looked at Tim. Presumably. It was hard to tell through his ugly red motorcycle helmet.

“I really should have known.”

His mechanical voice was scary.

Bad guy!

Tim took his chances and another swing before the guy could shoot him. He expected to hear a shot as he smashed his mace again. The guy yelped and jerked backwards to avoid getting hit. Then there was a thud.

Tim peered through the door cautiously. The guy had tripped over Mr. Orange. Mr. Orange was laying on the floor facedown, arms zip tied behind his back.

“Oh, sorry,” Tim apologized. He took a couple steps over to put the mace back away. He gave Mr. Orange a wide berth.

“I never would have guessed that the Red Hood used kids like this,” Mr. Orange said meanly. He narrowed his eyes at Tim. “Small, even for bait.”

The Red Hood guy pointed his gun at Mr. Orange’s head. Tim shrieked.

The Red guy stopped. He seemed to look at Tim again. He had some really bad words. “Alright.” He got back up to his feet and put the gun away.

Right. He’d probably just been joking or something. Tim belatedly registered the control it must have taken to not accidentally shoot while being attacked and falling over.

Oh. Wait. It was a huge coincidence that a hero came right now, unless-

‘Is this Jason?’ Tim felt his eyebrows go all the way up. He wanted to ask a million questions. His mouth was firmly glued shut, though. Partly it was infosec. But it was also embarrassment.

#red nest swap

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faislittlewhiteraven · 7 months ago

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Fais fanfic rambles: Introduction to my 'Selkies by Starlight' ISaT AU

Note: Not to be confused with @looped-140-and-counting / Soren_793's wonderful Selkie AU oneshot series 'The Northern Islanders are Selkies' which was hugely inspiring for this if potentially VERY different in vibe (we got very into talking about cloaks! XD)

Basic premise/summary:

In an alternate version of the precanon adventure, the party lead by Mirabelle to stop the King freezing Vaugarde in time, recruit Siffrin as per usual.

Thing is, Siffrin is a Selkie.

A very skittish selkie without a cloak of their own, who openly wears the cloak of another, and due to Reasons is under the impression that the party know all both of those things and the Implications about them, and for whatever reason have decided to welcome him into their group anyway.

Which er, he's completely wrong about as the party know absolutely nothing.

Mira and Isa like most Vaugardian humans think 'shifters' are just fairytales, Odile knows shapeshifters are real but is only really familiar with how foxes like her father work, and Bonnie is actually able to sense some pretty major things but is a preteen dealing with a lot and hasn't even joined the party yet, so this pretty major misunderstanding is sustained for quite a while...

Cue the AUs' main focus being on the resulting party dynamic shifts as more and more canon divergence due to Sif's 'selkie stuff' (both cute and serious) comes into play, the party slowly realising something is up, and all of it hitting an eruption point right around the time of the 4th Orb/the loss of Siffrin's eye...

Some key world building notes: (Note: very summarised from my docs. I have like 20k+ words on this stuff XD)

The Island - Probably the most drastically different thing from canon here, the Island was not forgotten or erased here. Rather it is hidden away and permanently shrouded in Wish Craft generated fog from 'those without cloaks'. Side note: Sif is still unable to return home and continues to have some very plot critical memory problems but those are due to unrelated issues, which means yay I get to have Sif talk 'home culture' with the others in this =D Also idk why the King is freezing Vaugarde still. I've got a few ideas I'm not sure about and he's not in focus enough for it to even matter really, but random suggestions -especially those with possible selkie motivations- would be very much appreciated.

Selkie powers in my setting - Went into something of a deep dive regarding selkie folklore for this and did you know they have an absolute ton of seer/oracle based stuff going on?

From selkie being summoned by their human lovers shedding seven tears into the ocean, to a selkie man telling a former lover that he and their child will die at the hands by her genuinely good and loving future husband, to a selkie woman forseeing her fisherman husband about to die out in a storm just in time for her to swim over there and rescue him, etc.

So... Yeah. This AU has a lot of plot relevant sensory/seer stuff going on as well as the standard seal shapeshifter stuff (Islander selkie traditionally believe it to be the Universe talking with them, in the same way Wish Craft is talking to the Universe), and going off all the stuff I read decided it'd be most fitting if the general rule for how it all works is: - Selkie always passively have a bit of it going on (aka Sif's canon 'you sense someone nearby' stuff) which like most things can be enhanced with Craft use a bit. - Near perfect understanding of all 'connected' bodies of water (aka they know EXACTLY where the tasty fish are/will be and can probably get a general sense of location for most people on a boat) - Potentially get strong 'visions of the future' and/or instincts on what they need to do to avert an outcome when it comes to loved ones being in danger/distress.

They also maybe get to pull very fast, high power Wish Craft 'curses'/miracles' at idk, the cost of something major like their cloak or lives (mostly based off of the The Legend of Kópakonan where the whole island of Kalsoy was cursed with death by a selkie in retaliation for her husband and children being murdered) but not super attached to this idea past it being in 'seal shifter' stories in-setting.

Other non humans in setting and regional differences in shifters - Pretty much only selkie and selkie issues are in focus here, but just as a general thing, all non humans in setting are shapeshifters and originated from human ancestors who went crazy with the the Body Craft and/or used Wish Craft in some way.

Ka Bue in particular has a ton of them since yokai, with their origins being various sects/clans back in the warring eras going so nuts with trying to weaponize Body Craft (super soldiers, enhanced life spans, infiltration, exploiting attraction to furries, etc), that after some particularly high profile incidents (for an idea plz see: Kiyohime, Tamamo no Mae, Kachi-kachi Yama) and 'Body Craft misuse leading to shut down of the brain/vital organs' being the most common cause of death for 10+ years once peace time was established, eventually Ka Bue's authorities set their foot down and banned Body Craft altogether.

Currently the shifter population in Ka Bue is around 30% of the population, shifters are required to have ID regarding their forms (or potential forms if they're merely 'half'), and it's considered distasteful for a shifter to be in non human form outside of private settings/necessity and even ruder to ask a shifter about their non human forms if they haven't brought the topic up yet first (kinda like seeing/asking about someone's underwear or something XD).

In contrast the Vaugarde, Mwudu and Porteria region is extremely shifter sparce, with most of its original shifter population being the result of various Universe worshipping peoples (mostly small groups, like greek mystery cults) deciding to use a big Wish Craft ritual as some sort of religious rite and becoming shifters as a side effect of their primary Wish (usually stuff like 'we wish for us and our descendants to be one with You and the sea/air' or 'may we Change with the phases of the holy moon' etc) which granted them some pretty neat skills but also tended to come with some 'potentially nasty' drawbacks attached (see: selkie and swan maidens with their cloaks, werewolves Changing in both body and mind etc) Which er, lead to some issues born of lack of knowledge about this stuff, later some very nasty anti shifter sentiment in the region, and then around... IDK 200 to 300 years ago or so ended up exploding into violence and other very nasty things, with most shifters able to do so fleeing the region, and those that couldn't either enduring horrible conditions until they could escape/died or went deep into hiding, with the Island's Country being founded by the two later groups who used Wish Craft to hide their new home, erase awareness of their existence from their enemies (a short term, fully intentionally 'forgetting' blast centered specifically around shifters), and developed a LOT of culture and traditions regarding when, who and what can be told to 'outsiders' about themselves, Wish Craft, etc in order to keep their people safe.

There are shifters living in present in Vaugarde of course (anti shifter sentiment died back a LOT after most people stopped thinking they were real, and most modern day Change Believers are more likely to view these 'totally fictional/allegorical' beings as children/messengers of the Change God rather than 'evil demons who stole power by tearing apart the Change God's cloak for themselves and thus have to be hunted down and made to repent' propaganda take that was everywhere back then) but numbers actually living outside the Island as opposed to merely visiting remain low, since either the shifters know their history and stick firmly to their 'stay secret' traditions or quickly pick up on how oddly unknown shifters are around these parts and decide to err on the side of caution... Also 'trust worthy' humans who do learn about them (usually northern coastal folk, gee wonder why) tend to help cover them up so... Yeah =D

---

And... Yeah!

This is hella long as is, so will stop here and ramble about the actual 'how this all affects our beloved Sif and Co plot and culture wise' stuff that is the actual meat of the AU in another post later, but hope this made for an interesting/idea provoking read, know that I have no issue with anyone using any of this for their own works (just please, don't use the 'Selkies under starlight' same story name unless it's actually a fanfic/fanart of my 'hopefully soon has a chapter/one shot up' fic/Ao3 series of the same name so people don't get confused), and I would love to chatter with you about any thoughts/questions you might have so...

Wishing you a good day =D

(sighes in relief finally getting this post finished after literal months. Pheeeeww~)

#fais fanfic rambles #isat fanfic #in stars and time #isat spoilers #isat #selkie #selkie au #shapeshifter au #isat siffrin #selkie!siffrin #worldbuilding notes #seriously though plz read soren's selkie!Sif au as its great #also um didn't go into it here but as can probably be guessed #by all the focus on actual selkie folklore and plotting out of a 'Vaugarde had anti shifter' history for the setting #this AU eventually explores some pretty 'classically uncomfortable' selkie folklore stuffs #(which I'm not tagging specifics here because it'll be in the character stuff if I have the guts to go into depth outside the actual fic)#but yeah #its mainly tragic backstory and part of the Island cultural stuff Sif runs afowl of with rather than directly in focus #while the actual fic itself is about miscommunication connecting despite that and the ISaT fam tripping into being a family precanon #with a little xenofiction/exploration of 'what kind of culture would selkie develop to be the way they are in myths' flare on the side #but felt the need to warn about it anyway for those who'd rather just nick all the other stuff and avoid that part like the plague #aaaand I'm just rambling in posting anxiety now so gonna hit post now and hope this is of literally any interest to anyone but me XD

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shapelytimber · 1 year ago

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Wdym it's been 5 months ? Anyway, here is the end of my little comic serie about this niche Skyrim mod

*Insert me 100%ing the 4th arc of the hit mod 'vigilant' for the elder scrolls V Skyrim with little difficulty having a grand ol' time*

I messed up my files so Teldryn divorced me while I was away ckgkckkc And you know what good for him, he got a cottage and a kid out of it

[PART 1] - [PART 2] - [PART 3]

[COMMISSIONS]

If you're interested in my thoughts about this mod, you can read that below (it's fucking long so I'm sparing you all just here for the art to have to scroll through all that) vvv

A fantastic mod for sure ! I had so much fun, the voice acting was (for the most part) quite impressive, the music !!!!!!!!! Excuse me who gave this mod permission to have this fucking banger of an ost ???? Loved the new environnements, and there was so much of them !! Especially in act 4, I felt that all the locations had a unique and gorgeous aesthetic (frankly it was the most fun I had doing dungeons in skyrim... the bar is on the floor tho- if I ever see another nordic tomb or draugr I'll not be responsible for my actions), and fucking impressive mise en scene.

And the fights were so fun ??? In skyrim ?? Incredible.

But I still have some problems with it- first let's get the elephant out of the room : act 1 and 2... Boy oh boy were they not so great- I get that the begining is a slow burn to 1) get to know the vigilants of stendar, and 2) drive home the fact that the vigilants are quite incompetent and stendar hates them. Ok this is cool ! And they definetly were some highlights, like with the story of the three kajiits (I'm not good with remembering names (forshadowing for later-)), the ending of act 1, and uuuuuuuhhhh underground windhelm looked sick in act 2 !

But the quests in general were not very fun, at least not fun enough to distract me from the parts of the scenario I understood- which were kind of sexist and not that interesting (the sexism doesn't get better with act 3 and 4 but at least I'm having fun)- like I don't expect great women characters, this is still a tes mod, and it definitly doesn't get to "the man writting this is a fucking creep and I'm not playing this any longer" territory... But all the women we interact with are either : prostitutes, mothers/wives, or abuse(it's nearly always rape) victims- like I don't really mind that the first quest is to track down a vampire prostitute who propose to show me her sweetrolls, but it gets pretty tiresome after a while (and kinda ridiculous, like do all the big musley men I'm fighting in act 4 have to angst about their wives ? Can't a big musley woman angst about her partner too...). The worst one is Lamae Bal. From the charadesign, to the dialogues with her, to her story- hated that.

And also we don't have much dialogue choices and ways to influence the story in these 2 (3) first acts. Which I understand like this is a lot of work for fan content, but it's such a stark contrast to act 4 it's a bit jaring.

But speaking of the story... I get this is a very thoughtful and well researched story. A lot of work reading the tes wiki as been done by the author... But I, on the other hand, did not read the entire extended lore wiki- and I admit I was not understanding any of it during Act 4. Like I got a general idea, and the epic, dramatic and emotional moments were still impactful ! But I really don't think the author did a great job getting the story accross, and the more the mod progress, the more this problem becomes relevant. The recuring problem of tes games is that they have really deep interesting lore that we rarely get to see in the games ; the problem of this mod is that we get presented with this lore as if we already knew it.

And after watching an explaination of the story, it's such a shame because it's really good !! And well written ! But I don't think I should need a youtube video to understand it...

Also omfg I am not good with names mod please- everything has like 2-3 different weird fantasy names (but it's never explained it's the same thing, and what the thing is is never explained-), there is a billion men characters with weird ass long names, and the mod expects me to remember them all 5-6 hours after they got killed ??? I don't remember them 5 seconds after I'm done talking to them-

But I had fun playing it, and that's what matters <3 and I'll never get other twink molag bal <3

Also, my mage dragonborn is even more op now omg I can summon an army of 8ft musle men + molag bal + Jyggalag ??? The only fight I had a bit of trouble with was Pelinal's, the rest got obliterated easily (by Pelinal) kgkgkfjfifb

I'll probably need to nerf Elaris at some point in the future-

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thatlittleviolin · 6 months ago

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//A little ramblig about eddie dear bc i cant stop thinking about him

Im not joking when i say this whole post was inspired after seen @//purple-raspberries “the mailman” drawing because O MY STARS WHAT IS THAT DRAWINgGGGGGG /pos

Okay so anyway, whats up with Eddie Dear? As, like, an active character of Welcome Home?

Something rubs me in the wrong way when it comes to him as a whole, not that I dislike him, pretty… much the opposite (thats why I'm making this post) actually, but I feel he is more relevant to the lore than what ppl give him credit for.

Even way before the past-year (2023) Halloween and Homewarming updates, I felt that he must simply be more than what is presented to us about him:

- He is the only character who sees all the rest of the neighbours every day due to his work

- He is one of the few if not the only one who is confirmed to be from outside of Home

- He brings one of the TWO functional clocks in all of Home (which could well be due to the nature of his work, but it doesn't take away from the fact that it's curious)

And I know, ik, this is not a lot. In fact, I believe this is not crucial info, but I want to mention it because it gives, in some way, a certain statement: Eddie Dear is not like everyone else. It differentiates him from the others.

There's simply something intriguing about him; and I constantly think about how, again, he's the resident who interacts most with his neighbors, the most helpful and willing to do anything, and despite that, he's the one who gets the most hits?

Hes always in a rush because he likes helping others, he's clumsy and yet he does his job in a stellar way and yet he goes the more underappreciated by his neighbors and its the first one to get to have his own personal breakdown during the Homewarming

Keep in mind, I don't mean that the other characters are bad or smth, we all know that inside they care for each other and are a pretty nice neighborhood-

But yea, starting with the most obvious, Howdy and Sally are downright condescending, bordering on rude to him. Howdy ignores him or pays half attention when he goes to deliver merchandise to the Bugdega and tries to start a conversation, and despite this, we can see that Howdy asks him for help to deliver things to someone else.

More specifically, during a hidden audio, we can hear that he uses Eddie to deliver an order of bowling balls to Julie DESPITE Howdy having a home delivery system and probably being able to better handle the weight of the merchandise, being at least two heads taller than Eddie, right when Eddie had just told him he had a very tiring day (of course he didn't hear that)

Sally, on her side, is condescending to him to the degree that when we hear them interacting, at least until now, it's mostly her giving him orders. Heck, Sally has a "long name" for every resident EXCEPT Eddie, whom she usually just calls "Mailman" for everything.

Julie and Frank tend to be more passive about it, but it doesn't take away from the fact that they also end up... taking advantage a bit? Or leaving him a bit aside. I know, I know, we all ship FranklyDear here, but it still bothers me how during "Eddie's big lift" (+ another hidden audio) we're shown how Julie tends to involve him in her games without much consideration as to whether Eddie even understands them to begin with, and Frank, despite acknowledging that he works hard and often overworks for everyone, leaves him lying on the ground. They don't even wait for him to get up to say goodbye properly, they just leave him there and go home. It's a bit sad to hear how Eddie talks to himself while getting up and dusting himself off.

And finally, one that I understand is a joke but serves as a transition to my next point: Barnaby and his constant gag of chasing Eddie around the neighborhood as soon as he sees him making his deliveries, or insisting that Eddie lifts him up because “he's just a puppy”. I won't delve into this (not now) because I know that overall that's Barnaby's way of joking; Eddie is not his only victim, but when you mix it with everything said above, it gives off some weird vibes.

It's as if Eddie was the typical "punching bag" character of the show's creators; you know, the one created so that the fun we get from him is at his expense, and sadly, somehow that fact makes sense to me as to why he's the first to have a "breakdown" during Homewarming and said breakdown has to do with, what else? his isolation and probable sadness.

During Sally's history and Poppy's confinement in her own house, there were two predominant themes: what happens when we're in the dark, what lurks in the shadows and whatnot, and isolation: Sally talks about this but Poppy experiences it first hand; shes alone and in the dark, house bricked to the top. However, Eddie gets overwhelmed despite being surrounded by everyone and, clearly, in a lit environment.

My opinion? Said loneliness and darkness don't necessarily need to be tangible, and in Eddie's case, they come from a mental place. My dear doesn't seem to have too much appreciation for himself, constantly letting people get the help they want (need, of course) from him at the cost of his own well-being. Eddie Dear is not happy, in fact, I feel he puts himself down a bit, which equates to darkness, and when he can distract himself from this fact again, Home reminds him; and his loneliness comes in a literal-but-not way. Eddie is never alone, that's evident, but again, in the Homewarming video we're not only emphasized that he's upset and confused because no one has asked him for help, but because he DOESN'T KNOW how to handle his own activities outside of work. Anything that doesn't have to do with the post office but is more personal overwhelms him because he's not used to thinking outside of how he should help others because that's his "only" way of interacting with them. Eddie needs to be needed in order to be closer to others, and when that's not the case, it frustrates him so much that it even seems like anger.

Heck, it's even sad how Sally mentions that nobody bothered him with the usual tasks they would require him for to give him a day off, and then downright nobody interacted with him. Not even Julie called him to play. When Sally finds him under Home's tree, she asks him to escort her to Home for the Homewarming and it's narrated that they're the last to arrive, but if Eddie hadn't left his house then... what? Would he have stayed there? (Lowkey I theorize that he wouldn't have, because of the fact that Sally and Frank seem to have more awareness than the others, I feel like she was actually waiting for him)

Personally, I consider that when it comes to a case like Eddie's, it's even worse, because you don't need to be actively in a closed and dark place, isolated (in what voluntary situation would someone have to be like that?) for your head to go completely to shit. Think about it, you make Home angry and he doesn't need the rest of the neighbors to build a wall around you. It does what you already do well: it locks you up with your thoughts and leaves you there.

So,,, uh, yeah, I don't know how to end this.

I just wanted to talk about my fav man.

somebody help him PLAEASSE

#welcome home update #welcome home #welcome home speculation #welcome home spoilers #welcome home eddie #this may be a bit of a strech #but idk it kinda makes sense in my head #This considering the theory that Home is responsible/makes the characters have these crises as a kind of revenge or way to control them.#Also the theory that Sally and Frank know what's going on or have a better understanding #im gonna smooch the mailman #𓆩 OffRol

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bedtimegiraffe · 18 days ago

Text

The Disney movie most likely to make each Blades LI Cry

Welcome to what has basically been my idle thought for the last few weeks. Note that this is not necessarily what I think would be their favorite (Mal's being Tangled is as close to canon as can be without a copyright issue), but the one most likely to make them cry.

I'm extremely open to comments and suggestions!

In reverse alphabetical order this time because I feel bad that Valax is always the last one if I go alphabetically or in order of party entry.

Valax- Moana

"You know who you are. You know what you have to do."

So much of this movie is about discovering yourself and the value of following your heart above all else, which is so much of Valax's journey. This is one where I have a very particular moment in mind. At the end of the movie, we realize that volcano villain Te Kā is really compassionate creator Te Fiti. The idea of finding your true self, and that true self being so good for the world would resonate with Valax for personal and mother-related reasons.

Tyril- Toy Story 2

"Somewhere in that pad of stuffing is a toy who taught me that life’s only worth living if you’re being loved"

Buzz is a duty-bound, cocky addition to the group who had to take on the painful journey of learning that the world is not what he thought it was. But he finds a new family and purpose along the way. Then in Toy Story 2, he has to face those demons again with Ultra Buzz and try to save his kidnapped friend, bringing up memories of MC being taken. You also have the fact that Andy will inevitably grow up while the toys stay the same age, which must hit hard for very long-lived Tyril. There's a lot here for him to pretend not to be tearing up about.

Nia- Frozen

"I never knew that winter could be so beautiful."

We know how much Nia struggles with the idea that there is Shadow in her, that it's dangerous and wrong. So I think Elsa's journey- hiding the magic, losing control and hurting people, being desperately loved regardless- would get Nia. (And I see her as a movie crier anyway.)

Mal- Encanto

"You’re exactly what this family needs. You just need to see it."

Mirabel, like Mal, sees herself as the one without anything special to offer, on the margins of her amazing family despite wanting so desperately to help. And the theme of not clinging so tightly to the past, the fear of loss and the people who aren't here anymore, would definitely get Mal (whether he ends up leaving his mom or his kids at the end of Book 3).

Imtura- Mulan

"The greatest gift and honor is having you for a daughter."

Hell yeah, strong warrior woman who is not doing what her society wants her to is very Imtura. But specifically the moment Mulan has at the end with her father, where she lays out all her accomplishments and all he cares about is that she's home safe. And given her difficult relationship with her mother and lack of closure, I think this would get her choking up.

Aerin- Beauty and the Beast

"As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?"

Lots of relevant themes in this one. Strong idiot hunter who's very popular, but really the villain. Book-obsessed protagonist everyone avoids because they don't get her. Prince who was physically transformed into a monster by his own greed and selfishness. I think Aerin would really resonate with aspects of Belle and Beast, and be more emotional than he would admit when they find a way to be happy and accepted.

#Sometimes you gotta follow your silly little heart and post nonsense #My knowledge is Disney movies is extensive but by no means encyclopedic. I did my best!#Yes a lot of these are reflections of moment that stuck with me because they made me emotional #I'm not a fan of Disney corporate but damn Disney creative does good work #Disney #choices bolas #blades of light and shadow #blades of light and shadow 2 #blades of light and shadow 3 #mal volari #tyril starfury #nia ellarious #imtura tal kaelen #valax #princess valax #aerin valleros

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lsunstreakerl · 2 months ago

Note

for the kink prompt: maybe some catboy max? im such a sucker for subby max asking for (read: silently demanding) attention

don't ask me any worldbuilding questions or the color of anything. (especially don't ask me how it ended up being 1.5k words. I swear I was watching the word count.) this is pretty much complete smut. you weren't very specific with what kind of catboy, so I went with whatever. this is... probably not what you were thinking of. here you go anyways :)

HI this is. very clearly a kink prompt fill. terribly explicit content ahead I'm afraid. not violent just horny.

pairings: lewis hamilton/nico rosberg, lewis hamilton/max verstappen, implied lewis hamilton/max verstappen/nico rosberg

relevant heads up: return of the the maxussy, people/animal hybrids as pets, heats.

Nobody told Nico how much work having a catboy was going to be. Max likes to cause problems- he'll curl up all sweet on their laps before randomly deciding to bite, he has a personal vendetta with Lewis's monstera in the dining room, and he's outscored them both on every single competitive video game they have.

The shelter said he was still young, and had warned them his personality was still developing- and like a pair of complete idiots both Nico and Lewis had thought that was cute.

Now they have a menace.

Jenson had practically cried laughing at them the first time Nico called to ask for advice, before informing him that Sebastian was equally as terrible until they got him Charles.

Nico isn't sure adding another cat to the mix is going to fix anything- and Max is actually being cute now, sprawled across Lewis on the couch purring. His tail flicks occasionally, soft swishes against the side of the couch, and sometimes his ears will twitch at a noise, but he's being behaved.

Probably because Lewis has just gotten back from looping them both around Monte-Carlo a few times, trying to get some of the excess energy out.

It's worked, thankfully.

Nico wanders over, leaning down to kiss Lewis as one hand reaches into Max's hair, scratching between his ears.

The purring ratchets up a notch, and Max's eyes blink open slowly, nestling his face further into Lewis's chest.

"Did Lew finally wear you out, you little beast?"

Max simply stretches out his legs, whole body arching with a soft noise before he's curling back up. He's watching Nico lazily, and Lewis's hand is running down his back in long, smooth strokes.

"I guess we need to add more running into the routine. He liked watching the harbor- we should see if he's interested in swimming sometime."

Nico raises an eyebrow.

"Lewis, he's a cat."

Lewis shrugs, scratching down Max's spine.

"So? He's a weird cat."

Nico can't exactly argue that.

------

Lewis is trying to get some paperwork handled for Toto, but Max is being suspicious. Suspicious as in he's being behaved.

He's curled up tight in the armchair, watching out the balcony window. His ears are alert and forward, and Lewis isn't sure he's actually moved a whole lot in the last hour. The very tip of his tail twitches occasionally, and his hands are neatly folded in his lap.

On the one hand- Lewis should probably go check that out. On the other hand- Max is not currently trying to bite at Lewis, or his plants, or putting holes in the curtains, so he's inclined to let it slide, at least until he gets a few more emails done.

It's only when he's hitting send that he realizes. Max doesn't usually spend time in the home office with him, because it's boring unless he's actively being a brat, but sometimes, when the weather is nice enough-

Lewis sighs, rolling his eyes as he stands and makes his way over to the chair, trying to see what Max is seeing.

Yup. Carlos is throwing a frisbee for Daniel down by the harbor, both of them tanned and shirtless. Lewis has no idea how either of them have that much energy, but- he supposes that's why Carlos got an Aussie. They're excitable like that.

Unlike Lewis and Nico, who have ended up with a bratty Dutchie. Max is technically also Belgian, but not enough to be on his pedigree, so his papers read standard Amsterdam.

"Stop ogling the neighbors dog, please."

Max makes a small noise in the back of his throat, looking back up at Lewis. His eyes are larger than normal, and when Lewis gently rubs at his ears, he's running a bit hotter than usual as well.

Shit.

"Oh, oh no. Are you seriously in heat?"

Max just blinks, pushing his head further into Lewis's palm. Lewis sighs, leaning down and wrapping an arm under his thighs before lifting. Max snuggles into him and starts purring.

It's sweeter than Lewis would like to admit. Max's tail brushes against his thigh as he walks them into the bedroom, dropping Max down onto the bed.

If blatantly staring at the neighbors hadn't given it away, the way Max drops his legs open and arches his back is a clear sign of heat.

"I know, I'm on it sweetheart, one second."

Lewis shoots off a text to Nico before digging into one of the drawers. They'd known it was a possibility- one of the perks of having catboys is the high sex drive, and Dutchies are particularly known for it- something about the Amsterdam line just makes them needy.

The shelter had informed them that Max hadn't had a heat since he was rescued, but that they might return on a regular schedule in a stable environment. Apparently, Lewis and Nico have finally provided that, six months after bringing Max home.

Nico is going to be so jealous he's not present for the start of Max's.

Max whines from the bed, and Lewis snags a few of the toys before coming back over. Poor Max is already a mess- a clear wetness soaking into the sweatpants they keep him in, tail flicking. His ears are slightly pinned back, and he's kneading at the duvet.

Lewis swings a leg over the bed, straddling Max's thighs as he brings his hands to his chest, already puffy and soft under his palms.

Max keens, arching up into him, and Lewis knows he's going to have his hands full until Nico gets home.

"I've got you, don't worry."

Lewis lifts up for a moment, sliding the sweatpants off and tossing them somewhere across the room. Max's thighs are shiny with slick, and Nico's going to kill him for doing this without him, but there's no way Lewis is going to resist- brings his head down and licks a stripe across Max's core, hot and wet.

Max's thighs clamp around his head, and Lewis grins, brings his hands up, gripping one of Max's thighs with his right, holding him down by the waist with his left.

Max bucks into his mouth, already making cute little noises above him.

Lewis brings his head back down, traces out patterns into Max with his tongue as he progressively falls further apart, before he licks a bit higher, latches his mouth around Max's clit and sucks.

Max wails, shuddering under Lewis's hands as he comes, and he's definitely making a mess, slick dripping out of him. Lewis doesn't mind- they'll change the sheets later.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, crawling up Max's stomach to toy with his chest again, even as Max squirms underneath him, panting.

"Be good, sweetheart. Nico will be home soon."

Max's eyes are big and wet as he looks at him, and Lewis really can't help it, not when he's being cute.

Nico won't know if he sneaks two before he gets home.

He runs his hand between Max's legs, collecting slick before pressing it to Max's mouth, feels his rough tongue lapping at Lewis's fingers.

Lewis takes back every comment he's made about Max being badly behaved- if he's this sweet his entire heat, every time, Lewis will pretend not to notice the missing leaves on his plants.

Max is sucking at his fingers like it's what he was born to do, even though he must feel needy and empty, and Lewis half wonders if the solution to his behavioral problems is just keeping him horny.

He'll run it by Nico later.

Lewis leans down to suck at Max's chest, leaves little bite marks across his skin before catching a nipple in his teeth and nipping, listening to the breathy noise Max makes.

He keeps at it, letting it slowly build, because if he can also teach some patience here it'll be a miracle. Max is getting red underneath him, splotches across his neck and down his chest, and he can't stay still under Lewis's wandering hands.

Lewis can tell he's getting close when Max starts frantically clawing at his back and biceps as he keeps teasing him, before Lewis finally gives in and shoves a thigh between his legs, right up against his wet heat.

Max immediately grinds up, desperate and needy, chasing pleasure against the muscle of Lewis's leg. It's a bit of a power rush, knowing he could move it back, leave Max hanging until Nico gets here. He doesn't, because he's not feeling that mean, and Max has been good today.

It doesn't take very long before Max comes again, riding the orgasm with weak little shivers, still keeping Lewis's thigh clamped between his own.

Lewis can heart the clatter of keys into the bowl in the living room, and then their door is swinging open, Nico's eyes immediately dropping to the bed.

"You got started without me!"

Lewis grins, deliberately grinds his thigh down where Max is still oversensitive just to hear him whine, watch him twitch away from it below him.

"I wouldn't be too worried about missing anything."

Nico's already pulling off his jacket and shirt, making his way to the bed. His eyes are dark, focused on Lewis and Max like something he wants to eat.

Lewis is sure his own expression isn't much better.

#ficlet #kink prompt #catboy max verstappen #I can't tell if this is the filthiest thing I've written or not #but it's definitely something #this is me learning because I would not have written this without a prompt #hybrid verse

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yatagarasuhonyaku · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter of the White Lilies: Winter's Young Tiger

Disclaimer: This is a fan-translation japanese-english of the original novel. This is a short story originally written for a japanese magazine and later compiled in one of the Ravens' Hundred Flowers books.

Blog version

For other translations, you can find them HERE

Timeline: At the start of The Raven Doesn't Choose its Master

Characters (in order of relevance): Ichiryuu, Yukiya, Yukima

Synopsis: Ichiryuu, the third son of the Shimaki Township Lord, wastes his days away picking fights and fooling around, unable to decide on the future, until a certain fateful encounter...

⊛　　　　　⊛　　　　　 ⊛

Winter's Young Tiger

War cries resounded under the clear winter sky.

The air was so cold his breath came out in white puffs, yet his entire body was boiling. Boys under 15 stood on two opposite sides, facing each other in an abandoned field close to the town plaza. It was four against ten. The enemy side had the advantage.

——Fine with him.

The weak were prone to gather together anyway. There was no way he was going to lose.

A boy came straight for him, his voice raised in a cry—the other side’s ringleader, who had picked a fight with him the other day.

“Ichiryuu! I’ve had enough of your bossy ass, today is the day I’m taking you down a notch!”

Despite their similar ages, the boy was noticeably bigger and thicker than him. For Ichiryuu, however, who trained against adults all the time, that wasn’t much of a problem. He gracefully dodged the club aimed at him and snorted as he screamed back.

“And you got some real cheek there! Go home and look at yourself in the mirror, you ugly ass!”

“Huuuh!? Look who's talking, have you looked at yourself?”

“Wanna fight, you piece of shit!?”

Ichiryuu sneered at his opponent. The boy screamed as he raised his weapon once more, but Ichiryuu closed the gap between them in a flash. The other boy’s eyes opened wide in astonishment—he couldn’t react at all.

“Idiot,” Ichiryuu muttered.

He raised his fist keenly, hitting the boy right on his saggy chin.

“Yocchan!” a boy on the other side shouted.

His opponent, who had been bragging until just a moment ago, swayed for a bit as his eyes went white. He fell to the ground, knocked out.

“Yocchan! Pull yourself together, Yocchan!”

“Dammit, we won’t forget this!”

Ichiryuu watched as they picked their leader up from the ground and ran away, tails between their legs. He gave an exasperated sigh as they left.

“Truly, what a bunch of idiots...” he said just as his own underlings surrounded him in between shouts of joy.

“Classic Ichiryuu!”

“And you did it in one hit! Again!”

“And with those numbers! I was scared for a second there, and still!”

“Wait,” Ichiryuu frowned, “you were scared of those small fries? Are you for real?”

“I mean, there were twice as many of them!”

“That’s not a situation you can normally win!”

“Well, Ichiryuu is just that strong!”

“He may well be, like, the strongest in the North?”

“Cut it out. It just means they were that weak…” Ichiryuu laughed, basking in the pure admiration in their eyes. “Although, well, yeah, the title of the Strongest in the North may actually be on point!”

⊛　　　　　⊛　　　　　 ⊛

“Ain’tcha getting a bit carried away, huh, Ichiryuu!?” a man said, slapping him with such force that Ichiryuu was sent flying. His body pierced the nearby shoji screen, pulling out even the frame, before finally landing on the floor.

“That hurts! What the hell, bro!?”

A teary-eyed Ichiryuu lay on the floor, his hand covering his bruised cheek. In front of him, stood three very angry men.

“Isn’t it about damn time you stop wasting your life away, huh!?”

“What were you even thinking!? Picking fights with kids from other territories!”

“Do you even realize who you are!? The son of the Township Lord!”

In order, the men yelling at him were none other than his father, the family’s eldest brother, and the middle brother. His father held the position of the Lord in Shimaki Township of the North. His rank was high enough to face high-ranking nobles from the Center, yet the man stood out mostly because of his big, strong physique. He was built like a boulder and kids cried when they saw him smile.

The Northern Region was the land of sake brewers and warriors. Farmlands were scarce. Its sake business, however, used the local water, which was remarkably pristine, and thrived beyond belief.

On top of that, every village, no matter how small, had at least one dojo. Even its farmers, who usually focused on tilling the land, could just as easily become soldiers in times of need. The majority of the population were part-time soldiers, such was the nature of the land. This was why a man like his father, who looked more like an actual walking rock than a member of the nobility and terrified others no matter how friendly he tried to look, was actually highly welcome as a leader.

Ichiryuu’s brothers greatly resembled their father and had the people’s wholehearted trust as well. In fact, the eldest was already hard at work as the Township’s future Lord and the middle brother was a graduate from the Unbending Reed Monastery and a high-ranking military officer. He was part of the personal guard for the Imperial Family in the Center.

For the North, raising the talents within the territory was of the utmost priority. As long as you had the gift for it, the door was open for anyone to become a warrior instead of a soldier. And, for the most talented even among such warriors, the Unbending Reed Monastery was the place to go.

In comparison to his accomplished brothers, Ichiryuu was just a problem child. He was the youngest, whose fate was still undetermined, and he spent his days fooling around in a gang with the other local kids his age.

“You’re getting close to your coming of age and having to think about your future. How about you take your own life seriously for a change?” his father admonished him with a grumble.

Offended by that, Ichiryuu pouted. “Leave me alone! I’m actually giving it a lot of thought, you know.”

There were two main possibilities for someone like Ichiryuu: to become a Township officer and help out his father and eldest brother, or to become a high-ranking military officer like his middle brother. And yet, he couldn't make himself choose. While he had absolutely no intention of working a desk job, he felt absolutely no joy either at the idea of following his brother's steps and going to the Monastery.

“You arrogant little shit, how dare you to speak like that in front of your father! If you have plans, go ahead and say so. We're waiting, and you better not try your luck with any excuses,” the middle brother threatened him.

He was the one who had sent him flying a moment ago.

Said middle brother had just come home for a visit after quite the lengthy absence. Which was good and all, but the news of Ichiryuu's pointless squabbling seemed to have only made him immediately see red.

The mere idea of following the same path as him, the most boorish of the three brothers, vexed Ichiryuu very much. He just couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn’t help but wish his brother would realize his behavior was the actual reason for Ichiryuu's indecisiveness for the future.

“Erhm, I’m not becoming a Township officer, for starters.”

“Yeah, I could guess that much. You don't have the brains required,” his eldest brother earnestly agreed with him. It pissed Ichiryuu off, but, as he couldn't come up with a good counter-argument, he chose to let it be.

“Then what do you plan to do? Go to the Monastery like I did?” The middle brother glared at him.

Ichiryuu shook his head once more. “No. It's not like I’m obligated to go to the Monastery just because I have the skill for it, right?”

“Then what are you planning to do?”

“Well, become a wandering bodyguard, perhaps?”

That way he could still protect his homeland, turn into a guardian of sorts. Ah yes, Ichiryuu, the Guardian Deity of Shimaki. It had a good ring to it. He had said it without thinking, in the heat of the moment, but it truly was an inspired idea.

“You…”

“You're truly an awe-inspiring idiot…….”

His brothers gave him looks of pity, and Ichiryuu frowned. What was their problem?

“You may not know it, but I'm actually quite feared out there. They even call me the ‘Tiger of Shimaki’!”

“What? That’s fucking lame!”

“Now, let me warn you. You'll deeply, deeply regret what you said right now in ten years. I'm willing to bet on it. It's a guarantee,” his eldest brother said with conviction.

However, his father, who was now standing at the back, seemed to be impressed unlike his brothers. “Oh, now that explains everything! That's why your haori had this thing on the back!”

Ichiryuu had no idea when he had gotten his hands on it, but it turned out his father was holding Ichiryuu’s long haori—the same one he had dropped off in a hurry the moment he arrived home—and was giving it a good, hard look. Its black fabric was decorated with golden embroidery. It depicted an imposing leaping tiger and a swaying willow tree.

The middle brother backed away at first, letting out a scandalized gasp, before ever so slowly coming closer to examine it. “Where did you even get this foul, gaudy thing……?”

“He sewed it himself, apparently. He even bought the fabric and thread with his allowance. Isn't he good?” his father explained.

The color in both brothers’ faces faded.

“Are you serious? I didn't know that.”

“Why even go that far! Are you a tailor now?”

“Shut up! Why is that a problem? I just didn't want to bother anyone with it.” Ichiryuu stood up and forcefully took the haori from his father's hands.

At that moment, another voice interrupted the scene.

“Shutting up? Who!?” It was the angriest, loudest yell of the day so far. “I could hear you all from the front of the house. How about you shut those dirty traps of yours right now, you bunch of idiots!?”

The three brothers balked in horror upon seeing the tiny figure running towards them.

“Mum!” Ichiryuu screamed.

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s ‘mother’ to you.”

From the looks of it, she had come all the way from the kitchen. Immediately after her arrival, she proceeded to hit Ichiryuu on the side of the head with a rice paddle. “I truly cannot believe you! Why are you so damn hopeless? How about learning a thing or two from the Taruhi kids, huh!?”

Something in Ichiryuu, who was busy rubbing his head in pain, snapped when he heard her yell.

Taruhi Township were their neighbors and, by some chance, its Lord also had three sons. To make matters worse, the eldest and the middle brother were born barely a year apart, which meant they were both around Ichiryuu's age. Given their similar ages and circumstances, the three of them were constantly compared to each other.

“Now that I can't ignore! ‘Kids’, what's up with that plural? I'll take Yukima, fine, but I'm so much better than Yukiya.”

Yukima was the future Lord in Taruhi and one of those brilliant people who had it all: he was intelligent, good looking, and had a frankly pleasing personality. On top of that, he had been getting fairly decent results at the Northern Region’s tournaments, held twice a year. Ichiryuu wasn’t going to deny that Yukima had promise.

Yukiya, his slightly younger brother, on the other hand...

He was the complete opposite of Yukima: dumb as a rock, not what you would call good looking, and a complete coward. In other words, a walking failure. At tournament matches, he would start sobbing the very instant it started and then immediately throw the bamboo sword away. Battling him was considered a completely free win among the Northern kids.

Meanwhile, Ichiryuu wasn't the best when it came to studying, that much he was willing to admit, but his looks were most certainly not bad at all and he was courageous. On top of that, he had full confidence that his skills in arms were the best regardless of status.

Being considered inferior to Yukiya of all people was something he couldn't stand.

“He even caused trouble just the other day, didn't he? No matter how you put it, we aren't even in the same category.”

It happened during the New Year’s Greetings at the Northern Lord's Main Residence. According to the rumors, he fought with some guy and lost in quite the dramatic way, much to the Northern Lord's exasperation.

“Well, you may say that, but Taruhi's middle son was chosen to serve at the Court right after that,” his eldest brother said.

Ichiryuu let out a half-maddened scream. “Huh, why!? What's up with that? Court Service of all things?”

“I’ve heard that, from this spring onwards, he'll be working as one of His Highness Wakamiya's attendants.”

“His Highness Wakamiya's attendant…” Ichiryuu repeated, dumbfounded.

Wakamiya. The Crown Prince, in other words. The man that would one day rule all of Yamauchi. He had been studying abroad in the ‘Outside’, but he had returned a short while ago. The Rite of Ascension, the event to select his legal wife out of the Four Houses, was also supposed to start soon.

If he became the attendant of such a noble personage, Yukiya's future was all but secured. For Ichiryuu, who had until then been fully convinced Yukiya would spend his entire life shamelessly leeching off Taruhi, the news came out of nowhere.

“Whatever the excuses, he's doing just fine. Compared to that, you…” His mother clicked her tongue.

“Wait!” Ichiryuu screamed. “It makes no sense! Why Yukiya? And all of a sudden!”

“Probably because, despite appearances, he's actually giving his situation proper thought,” the middle brother added with a laugh.

“Impossible!” Ichiryuu yelled again. “Don't go assuming stupid things like that. As if he could give anything ‘proper thought’! I'm stronger and, most likely, also way smarter.”

“The biggest question here is where exactly you get that self-confidence from. It's admirable, somehow,” interjected his very exasperated middle brother.

The eldest, meanwhile, gave him a forced smile. “Taruhi's middle son has a different mother. He probably got a recommendation because of something related to that.”

This was the first time he had heard of that. Ichiryuu's eyes widened. “Really?”

“I don't know the finer details, but it was a whole deal. She's dead, but from what I’ve heard his mother’s status was much higher than the current legal wife’s.”

“In short, that's all it took to decide his future.”

——Yukiya, someone so clearly inferior to him, getting such a nice deal? Just like that? Only because of his blood?

“That's unfair!” Ichiryuu winced.

“Ryuu.” His father, who had been silent until then, called out to him with a gentle look on his face. “Before talking about others, you should first give some thought to what being a Township Lord's son truly entails. How can you even consider going to the Court when you don’t know how to behave as an aristocrat?”

“Since when are we ‘aristocracy’? Dad, do you know what our people call the Lord's Residence?”

Inspired by the castle’s atmosphere up in the mountains, they had given it the affectionate name of the ‘Bandits’ Den’. His father's rough, stone-like face blushed as he heard that, and he turned to his wife.

“Oh, my dear……. Shinobu, it must be because you're such a beauty, there’s no doubt about it! You must look like a princess kidnapped by bandits to them.”

“Oh, dear. Don't say things like that in front of the kids.”

“It's just the truth, my dear.”

Faced by their blushing, bashful parents, the brothers immediately felt a chill. ‘There they are, at it again.’ ‘I can't stand this.’ ‘What are they doing at their age?’ The brothers’ thoughts stood united, yet their father couldn't care less: their only option was to wait until their parents were done flirting.

Shinobu, their mother, wasn't a noblewoman by birth. On the contrary, she was a female warrior who won her position as the Lord's legal wife by sheer power. She trounced every single rival at a martial arts tournament. Even now, years later, it only took her one hand to manhandle her huge sons, and she prided herself as the strongest in the Shimaki Lord’s Residence.

Their mother was tiny, had a mean look in her eyes, and an utterly foul mouth on top of that. In other words, even from the perspective of a very loving relative, her appearance was at most utterly average and, rather than a princess, she had the aura of a legitimate bandit. Yet, for some reason, she was the most beautiful princess in the entire world in their father's eyes.

After quite some time spent flirting, their father finally noticed his sons’ looks. He coughed as if to get their attention.

“Anyway! You told us you wanted to become a wandering bodyguard, didn't you? If you're serious about that, I’m not against it. I'll give you my full support, even. However.” His father looked like the very picture of authority, the polar opposite of how he had acted just a moment ago with his mother. “Right now, I can tell you aren’t actually serious about it. If you keep saying whatever first comes to mind, I'll use all my power to beat that hesitation out of you.”

Ichiryuu had no way to fool his way out. His father meant every word.

“If you are going to go to the Monastery, it's about time to start preparations in earnest; you better give it some hard, proper thought. Are we good?” his father emphasized.

At his side stood his mother, who glared at him with her arms crossed, with his brothers, who were looking at him menacingly, in the other. Ichiryuu sat square on the cold dirt floor, clearly unhappy with the entire situation.

Finally, he answered with the only option he had been given.

“Yes.”

⊛　　　　　⊛　　　　　 ⊛

In the North, a huge martial arts tournament took place twice every year at the biggest temple. It was a prelude of sorts to the Good Crops and Rice Harvest Festivals(1), and skilled underage boys from all corners of the region gathered there to participate. Its purpose was to choose who would take part in the dedicatory match as an offering on the day of the festival itself.

For any commoner boy who had his sights set on the Monastery, it was the perfect chance to prove himself in front of people influential enough to give them a recommendation. In fact, there were also Monastery instructors in attendance every year. And, for the boys born in the North’s many warrior families, it was the best chance to show off the hardwon results of their training.

The sky was clear, with no clouds in sight, and the curtains hanging from the temple’s eaves flapped magnificently in the wind. It was the very last day of winter, at least according to the calendar, and yet the day was just as cold as usual. White puffs came out from people's mouths and a good warmup was a hard requisite to even hope to move properly.

Ichiryuu was very much used to fighting outside in the cold, however, so this was just more of the same to him. Just like that, he took yet another impressive and graceful victory in front of the shivering spectators.

“White, one point!”

As the crowd cheered, Ichiryuu turned towards them, lifting his bamboo sword up high. He had just won his third round, and his opponent had been none other than Yukima of Taruhi, the same boy Ichiryuu's family was so intent on wanting him to be like.

“You're just as strong as always, Ichiryuu.” A cheerful Yukima was the one to approach him first, once they were done with the customary bows.

His cheeks were flushed and his hair was messy, but he sported an easy-going expression that spoke of the quality of his upbringing. This, combined with his good looks, meant that a group of fawning girls had gathered close by. Ichiryuu couldn't be happier to have taken that victory against him in front of them.

“Well, of course. I'm the ‘Tiger of Shimaki’, after all.”

“Ah, I really don't hate that side of you,” he laughed, “but don’t expect me to follow you on that.”

Unsure about what Yukima meant, Ichiryuu was about to ask him. However, Yukima waved his hand in farewell before he got the chance. “My brother's match is next so I have to go. See you later!”

Even his back as he ran away was graceful.

“How can he look so cool even though he lost.”

“That's a future Township Lord for you……”

He hadn’t realized it until now, but his friends were already standing behind him. Two of them had joined the tournament as well, but they had lost almost immediately so they had decided to stay around to cheer Ichiryuu on instead. His parents and eldest brother were expected to be in attendance by the Northern Lord's seat, which meant that his friends were the only ones with Ichiryuu on the field.

“I won, though,” he spouted, his tone flatter than he himself expected.

“But, of course! You were the coolest, Ichiryuu!”

“There's no need to sulk!”

“I'm not sulking.”

Yet all that euphoria from before had vanished entirely. Ichiryuu silently followed his friends, who were still frantically trying to comfort him, as they walked in the same direction as Yukima. They arrived at a venue in the corner of the precincts, delimited by a white square and completely surrounded by people. They had arrived just in time. That guy was just exchanging bows with his opponent.

The guy’s face was the very picture of insecurity. He was none other than Yukiya, the failure of a second son of Taruhi. His hair was fluffy and unruly, and he had a red headband on his head. He was small and poorly built for his age and, unlike Yukima, his features could hardly be defined as attractive.

“You can do it, Yukiya!” A small child raised his voice from the side of the venue. Taruhi's third son, most likely. Beside him stood Ichiryuu’s last opponent, Yukima, who could only watch over his brother with worry painted all over his face.

“Start!” the judge yelled.

Yukiya’s opponent, who was wearing a white headband, raised his voice the moment the match started, going for an attack. Yukiya visibly trembled at the sight, the tip of his sword unreliably shaking up and down.

Ah, truly a lost cause.

In the time it took Ichiryuu to think that, Yukiya’s opponent closed the distance between the two of them and, of all things to do, Yukiya chose to close his eyes. And just as Ichiryuu had expected, the match was over in barely an instant.

“...... To think a guy like that is going to be His Highness Wakamiya's attendant. The world may as well be ending.”

Pointless as it all was in the end, Ichiryuu's irritation only grew as he watched Yukiya’s brothers comfort him. Mere thoughtless whining out of jealousy, and yet his friends immediately took the bait. It wasn't exactly subtle.

“I know! You would do so much better than him, Ichiryuu.”

“His older brother could manage just fine, yes, but that guy? He's probably going to embarrass us all here in the North.”

“Exactly!” Ichiryuu wholeheartedly agreed.

Ever since they had arrived, Yukiya's future attendant work at the Center had turned out to be a popular conversation topic. From what he had learned from the many rumors circulating, there was another different nobleman who was originally supposed to do it. However, he mistook Yukiya for a commoner and fought with him. In the end, he actually hurt Yukiya. Giving up the honor to his victim had been his punishment.

Of course, to hurt someone just because he's a commoner was in no way acceptable behavior. Ichiryuu genuinely thought the punishment was necessary and fitting. That said, he could see how someone could mistake Yukiya for someone of lower birth, and he couldn't stand knowing that, ultimately, Yukiya's entire future was decided only on the grounds of his superior lineage. It made him sick.

“But what if he started that fight knowing what would happen? The cunning of it!”

“No way, don't say scary things like that!”

“I mean, using his brains instead of his non-existent strength. It sounds like something a noble would do, don’t you think?”

Ichiryuu snorted at his friend's words. “As if Yukiya is smart enough to do that. He probably just got lucky.”

It seemed his friends had quite unrealistic expectations about rural nobility. His argument didn't seem to convince them, however, as they just muttered on.

“Maybe you're right, yes.”

“But there's still a chance he did it knowingly, ain't there?”

Ichiryuu followed Yukiya with his eyes as he left the venue, drinking some water from a bamboo bottle. “I’ve heard his mother is from a good family. Don’t you think that, if he truly were the kind to pull off something like that, he could just depose Yukima and take over as the next Township Lord instead? Not like he can actually do that, mind you,” Ichiryuu spitefully spat out. “If lineage were truly all you needed to triumph, there wouldn't be any point to working as hard as we do.”

⊛　　　　　⊛　　　　　 ⊛

In the end, Ichiryuu took third place at the tournament. There were Monastery trainees-to-be taking part in the tournament this particular year, so it was safe to say those were some excellent results. As much as it was a shame he couldn't get first place, at least it meant he didn't need to take part in the dedicatory match the next day. In that particular sense, one could even say that third was the ideal placement.

Now that his matches were over, the only thing left to do was to enjoy himself at the festival, taking place at the North's biggest city, before coming back home. The Good Crops Festival was also the first chance to drink the sake that had matured during wintertime. That was the following day, however. That night, last fall's sake was everywhere instead, and the path to the temple was filled with plenty of food stalls as well.

Ichiryuu had barely gotten the chance to take a peek or two in-between matches, but he still got to enjoy the strong aroma of grilling soy drifting from the massive pots, filled with boiling salty-sweet konjak balls, and to see some skewers of miso-marinated chicken dripping with golden oil.

Ichiryuu, happy thinking about everything he was going to eat, was about to take off his training uniform when a voice interrupted him. “Excuse me… Ichiryuu?”

He turned around and his expression hardened. Brown, unruly hair stood right under his line of sight: a short boy was looking up at him. Yukiya of Taruhi, of all people.

Their relationship went as far as playing together from time to time when they were kids, whenever there was a reunion at the Northern Lord's Main Residence. He wasn't someone he wanted to be close to now that they were older, however. He had no idea of what Yukiya could want from him, but he fully intended to appease him just enough to get him out of the way and go play as soon as possible.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine what Yukiya’s request was about.

“Teach you some basics? Me?”

“Yes. I've, well, lost all my matches today too…” Yukiya said, shriveled up like a leaf in autumn. “It'll be really bad if I keep going like this, so I wanted to get some advice from you, Ichiryuu.”

“Now, my question is, why does it have to be me? You’re going to the Center very soon too, right? There’ll surely be some busybodies in Taruhi willing to teach you.” His answer turned out way more sarcastic than he had originally intended, but Yukiya didn't seem to notice it.

“Still!” He answered energetically, “I really want you, Ichiryuu, to teach me. Every mentor in Taruhi is already getting up in years……. So, I thought that surely I could learn something useful if I train with someone strong and closer to my age. And you were so, so cool today, Ichiryuu.”

“R-Really?”

Ah, it truly wasn't such a bad feeling. To be looked up to with wholehearted admiration like that.

“Please! Even if it's just for a moment, I really don't mind!”

Well, to be completely fair, it wasn't like Yukiya himself had done anything wrong. He may have been a bit too harsh with all the jealous talk. Besides, there was something cute about how he had come all the way to ask him for help like that. Commendable, even.

Ichiryuu glanced at the window. He could see the red sky through the lattice, and his friends had told him they would go ahead to watch the kagura(2) songs and dances. There was still some time before the meetup.

“Well, if you insist that much… I'll give you a lesson or two.”

“Really? Actually, I already got a dojo for it,” Yukiya said innocently.

He brought Ichiryuu to a small building. It had been used as a waiting room for the tournaments’ participants during the day, but everyone seemed to have left a long while ago. It had been so lively just a few hours ago, and yet now you couldn't see a soul around.

“They told me they don't use it for big matches like the ones today, but it's actually a training dojo. When I explained to them that I wanted to practice on my own, they said I could use it as much as I wanted.”

Yukiya explained as he went and lit up candles in the corners. Then, once that was done, he returned to the entrance and used both hands to carefully close the door. It was well-waxed and moved with ease, sliding into position with a soft tap.

“Now……” Yukiya turned back to him, his face illuminated from the side by soft candle light. There was a carefree, toothy smile on his lips. “Thank you for your guidance.”

“No worries,” Ichiryuu said cheerfully.

He went to the side of the dojo, where they kept the bamboo swords, and picked up one in as good a state as possible. They had no one to act as the judge, but it should be just fine. He could just point out anything he noticed as they trained, much like his own instructor did with him. Ichiryuu stood at the starting line and bowed.

“Thank you for having me,” they said to each other and Ichiryuu readied his position, bamboo sword in hand.

——It didn’t take him too long to realize something was wrong.

For the first few matches, everything was fine. Ichiryuu would just correct Yukiya: ‘Your pose is off.’ ‘Work on that leg coordination.’ It was only later that he started to notice the wrongness of it all.

Yukiya held his sword as he pitifully shrunk into a ball, making his body as small as possible. His grip didn’t seem strong at all to him. He looked outright defenseless, to put it plainly, yet Ichiryuu’s blows didn't land as they should. Every time he tried to attack, Yukiya would let out some kind of pathetic scream and then, somehow, flawlessly stop or deflect the hit.

Disconcerted, Ichiryuu backed down for a second. He studied Yukiya for a while, but the boy simply looked back at him with dread.

“...... What's up? Aren't you going to attack?” Ichiryuu challenged him.

With anxiety all over his face, Yukiya finally went on the offensive. It was a weak attempt. Ichiryuu had no problems whatsoever countering it, and immediately closed in for a blow of his own. Yet, somehow, Yukiya warded him off. His sword slashed the air.

For a moment, Ichiryuu simply couldn't believe it. He had put some actual effort into that one.

Meanwhile, Yukiya was still giving him the same old pitiful look. He even went and tilted his head, as if wondering what was wrong. And yet, Ichiryuu couldn't help but feel something off lurking in his eyes.

Indignant, Ichiryuu sighed and finally gave a loud shout as he went on the offensive again. This time around, he wasn’t going to underestimate his opponent, not one bit. Whether it was because he had noticed Ichiryuu's change in attitude or not, Yukiya's stance quickly shifted as well. His entire body relaxed and he fixed his center of gravity. Just like that, his previously deplorable footwork became buttery smooth.

Most importantly, however, were his eyes: there was no fear whatsoever in them anymore.

Seeing red, Ichiryuu cursed to himself. He put his everything into his next attacks. He tried to strike, to stab, time and time again, and yet it was to no avail. Every hit found itself rebuffed, deflected, or otherwise warded off. Despite actually trying his hardest to get a point, nothing would work on Yukiya. Most infuriatingly, the boy didn't try to counterattack even once, no matter how many openings there were.

Gradually, Ichiryuu's breath picked up. His arms felt heavier by the moment and he could taste blood in his mouth. His sight blurred, and he realized his own dripping sweat was the cause.

He slashed down with all his strength, and Yukiya finally managed to completely block him. For a moment, neither side moved.

“Is that all?” Despite the clashing swords, Yukiya’s voice and expression didn’t betray a sign of actual effort. “You're supposed to teach me the basics, right? So what's next? Please, teach me more.”

Ichiryuu's arms trembled: he was being pushed back. He couldn't tell when, but Yukiya’s gaze had, at some point, turned into that of an entirely different person. It was cold, terrifyingly so.

“Come on…… I’m telling you. Do it. Now!”

That instant, Yukiya vanished from his sight.

Before Ichiryuu even got a chance to tell what was happening, he felt something hit his legs. With a tumble, he plunged to the ground. He somehow managed to break off the fall safely, but it was already too late. He looked up. There was Yukiya, sporting a vicious smile from ear to ear and raising his sword as high as he could.

Ichiryuu didn't even have time to cover his face with his arms. Before he knew it, he was being assaulted by the sharp agonizing pain of a neverending flurry of blows. It felt like hail crashing all over his body.

“Huh? What's wrong, Ichiryuu? Is this truly all you can do?”

Ichiryuu let out a pained shriek and made an attempt to escape. It was pointless. The moment he tried to move away, Yukiya kicked him with all his strength.

“You sure are all bark and no bite, huh?” Yukiya laughed as he kept ruthlessly hitting the fallen Ichiryuu over and over again.

Bang. Bang. Bangbang.

The blows were so fast, he could swear the sounds they made were overlapping into one single cacophony. Ichiryuu pleaded, ‘stop, please, I'm begging you’, countless times. Finally, Yukiya's arm stopped.

“I-I'm sorry I made fun of you. That's why you're so angry, right? I'll apologize!” Ichiryuu said in between barely suppressed sobs.

“Oh,” Yukiya’s eyes opened wide, “so you were making fun of me. Didn’t know.”

And, just like that, he had made his situation exponentially worse.

Ichiryuu could feel his consciousness threatening to leave him as a sneering Yukiya picked him up by the collar. “Well, I can more or less make an educated guess. Not like I actually give a shit about how you feel about me, mind you—but that said, you really, really should think long and hard about your own position before opening that big trap of yours again.”

“My position…?”

“Today, at the tournament venue, you said that I could probably take over the position of Taruhi's Township Lord in the future, didn't you? Because I come from a better family than my brother. And you better not tell me you've forgotten,” Yukiya threatened him.

Ichiryuu audibly gulped. “Nonono! Wait! I did say it, yes, but it was under the assumption that you couldn't actually do it, you know!”

“Shut up! And listen for once in your life!” Yukiya shouted as he punched him in the face. “It doesn't matter what you were thinking. Right now, rumors about it are all over the damn place. Those two lackeys of yours sure like gossiping, huh!?”

“No! Did those two also go through this?” Ichiryuu said, startled.

“Don't look down on me,” Yukiya spat out, “those two actually understood things once I explained it to them all nicely. I'm not angry with them, I'm angry with you.”

“Then, why?”

“So you truly don't realize who you are. Incredible,” Yukiya sighed with heartfelt exasperation as he threw Ichiryuu back onto the floor. “The third son of the Shimaki Township’s Lord, Ichiryuu—an aristocrat. Low or not, it doesn’t matter.”

Yukiya picked his bamboo sword back up. He had thrown it away when he first caught Ichiryuu by the neck. “You may have meant it as some simple jealous banter, but those are still the words of a Lord's son. People will take them at face value. If someone from the Township is saying it, it must be true after all! Stupid as it may be, it gives rumors some credibility. Before you even know it, they spread like wildfire.”

——Before talking about others, you should first give some thought to what being a Township Lord's son truly entails. His father's kind words came back to Ichiryuu in a flash.

“I’m the first one to agree it's stupid for everything to be determined by one's birth, but the fact remains that we benefit from it. And at least I can say with full confidence that I have some idea of what nobility is all about.”

Yukiya slammed the sword against the palm of his own hand. He was looking down on Ichiryuu as if he were the scum of the earth. “You see, the benefits and responsibilities of a noble are equal. The only reason you haven’t had to work until now and got enough training to become third best in the North is because you’re a rural noble. How daring of you, to ignore that and go around acting all jealous of my bloodline. Imagine the disgust that those who heard you spout that crap must have felt.”

Ichiryuu found himself with no way to argue back.

“Now, listen well, Ichiryuu. I have no intention whatsoever of taking my brother's position. I don't have plans to go to the Monastery or the Center, either. I plan to spend my entire life working for my brother's sake under his command. Do you even have the slightest idea of what I've had to go through because of inconsiderate, groundless suspicions such as yours?” As he spoke, Yukiya's face twisted as if in pain.

“I propped up my brother and publicly declared I had no such ambitions. Finally, finally, everything had settled down…… And then, just when the situation had taken yet another turn for the worse because of my work at the Center, you go and open your stupid mouth. All my work gone in a single day, just like that.”

“I-I'm sorry…”

“I don't really need your apologies. Now, stand up, Ichiryuu. Weren't you going to help me train?”

Yukiya slashed the air with his sword. Still on the ground, Ichiryuu dodged the hit and crawled away in another attempt to escape. Yukiya cackled and ever so slowly started to walk after him.

“You aren't a worm. Stop crawling and stand up—if you can, that is,” Yukiya shouted at him. He was clearly enjoying himself.

Then, just at that moment—

“Stop, Yukiya!”

The dojo’s tightly closed door opened in unison with a heartrending cry. Yukima, white as a sheet, appeared at the other side. Yukiya's raised sword stopped in mid-air as his body visibly tensed.

“Brother.”

“Don’t you think that's enough? It's not like Ichiryuu truly meant us any ill.”

Yukima must have been in a hurry to find this place. Sweat dripped down his forehead and he was clearly struggling to breathe. Faced by his older brother, Yukiya looked around, as if he was just thinking about something, and finally lowered his sword.

“Is that an order?”

“What?”

“If you give me the order, I’ll follow it.”

The two brothers intently looked at each other for a while and, in the meantime, Ichiryuu could only pray as he watched them. Finally, a very saddened Yukima broke the silence.

“As the next Township Lord, I order you: stop right now.”

“Understood.”

Yukiya dropped the bamboo sword. Once again, he turned towards Ichiryuu. There was a clear, easy-going smile on his lips. “I don't think it will ever happen, but just in case: better be careful to not ever show any kind of ill will towards Taruhi. If you do, I'll be coming after you with everything I have.”

“I'm sorry, Ichiryuu. He has been going through a lot lately,” Yukima whispered before leaving the place as well. “That said, you should be careful too. We aren't only our own people, you know.”

That second part left a strong impression on Ichiryuu. “So, ‘don't be selfish’, huh… Ouch!”

Using the remaining ointment from the tournament, Ichiryuu took care of his wounds by the dojo’s veranda. Every single one of his wounds could be easily hidden away under his clothes, which was just as surprising as clearly intentional. Yukiya was obviously used to this kind of thing, albeit in a whole different sense than Ichiryuu.

There was a part of him which was shaking in fear and frustrated by what had just happened. Another, however, just felt some form of pity. He couldn't escape a feeling that he had just taken a peek behind the curtain, to the kind of life the Taruhi brothers had lived through.

From the entrance of the temple, he could hear the lively music and people's laughter.

A realization had come to him as well. If Yukiya had actually tried at the tournament, his results would have been completely different. He could feel his mood dampening by the moment. He didn't feel like going out to play, not anymore.

“Aaah, dammit!” Ichiryuu yelled, sprawling on the floor.

His family was the kind to ruthlessly hit each other during fights and throw insults all the time, and they were more like bandits than nobles. Yet, after all this time, he had finally come to notice something: they were truly fortunate, blessed even.

May as well go to the Monastery.

It would make his family happy. Plus, that way he should also be capable of fulfilling that so-called ‘responsibility’ Yukiya had talked about.

——Besides, he did say he wasn't ever going to go there.

Anyway, for the time being, better put the ‘Tiger of Shimaki’ to rest.

——————————————————

1: The festivals usually known as Kinensai (祈年祭), which is indeed to pray for good crops, and Niinamesai (新嘗祭), in which newly harvested rice is offered to the gods by the Emperor. Though they’re only tangentially mentioned, the specific timing of both of them matters, so I found it better to localize them.

2: Kagura (神楽) refers to ritual dances and songs considered sacred by Shintoism and usually performed at shrines.

#yatagarasu #yatagarasu series #the raven does not choose its master #karasu wa aruji wo erabanai #Translation: Chapter of the White Lilies

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