#ch.1034

[akutagawa-daily]

Akutagawa daily 1034/★

[larkreadsop]

I mostly capped this because it’s the most impressive panel but Sanji beginning to realize that instead of completely turning his back on the scientific enhancements already in his body he can instead blend those with his own techniques on his own terms is probably the best ending possible for this entire situation.

[crabapplebread]

"do psb agents maybe have a little too much free time" lmao, it seems that undercover work is mostly just waiting until the rare opportunity strikes, huh?

Vol. 97, Ch. 1027

he's getting worse and worse at hiding his tranquilizations 😭

Vol. 97, Ch. 1034

[hauntedjpegcollection]

jealousy

wc: 1034 au: exorcist au ch: xavier, lark, benji, tino

“You’re being weird about it, you know.”

Xavier unfolds from his crouch and nearly bumps his head against the low hanging attic rafters. He swipes quick hands through his hair to dispel any cobwebs he might have crushed against by accident. It only makes his hair messier and more unkempt, which makes him look even more disheveled. He doesn’t have time to be self conscious about it—the duo downstairs don’t care what his hair looks like. Xavier has no idea why he lingers on it so long until he finally kicks a cardboard box petulantly.

“He just doesn’t seem like your type,” he replies, without knowing what else to say.

Lark is by the far end of the attic, headphones mostly on, a parabolic reader in his hands. He watches the device intently, brows tucked in. He looks professional and mature, even with the sloppy bleach dye job that leaves his dark roots sporadic here and there style. In all black, he should blend into the dark atmosphere. The only light is mostly from the window and the dust motes make everything look fuzzy and surreal.

His black eyes swing up from the reader to Xavier.

“You talk about Benji a lot, considering you hate him.”

“No I don’t,” Xavier huffs. He makes his way to the drop down ladder of the attic. He crouches once more and begins emptying salt into his hand to drizzle a fat line of it around the entrance. He’s read plenty about what he should be doing, or maybe how to help in the situation, and yet now that he’s here—he feels unsteady on his feet. Unsure and nervous.

There passes a moment of brief silence, and then—

“Do you think he notices?” Xavier stands slowly, brushing his hands awkwardly across his tattered jeans. Even that feels less official than Lark’s black cargo pants. The Priest is going to buy him clothes that suit the job properly—when he can find a store that sells them in tall and slender. He isn’t sure how he feels about returning to an all black wardrobe. Xavier had made the return to jeans happily. He’d felt more normal than he had in years, in plain denim. Converses. No bullet proof vests.

Lark’s turned around, focusing on an old wardrobe sat on its side. One door flat against the floor and open. It looks empty. Of anything material anyway. He shifts around a bit before he stands and looks over his shoulder to Xavier.

“Dude,” his face splits into a smile that is nostalgic and familiar. It puts dimples in his cheeks and he looks instantly younger. Like the best friend Xavier had made years ago and lost and just found again. “You’re being so obvious that I’m noticing. He’s going to think you’re my ex boyfriend and you have jealousy issues. Which you do.” Which makes both of them laugh. And then silence once more as they begin investigating opposite sides of the attic once more.

“It’s big by the way.”

“Huh?” Xavier stumbles over another cardboard box, eyes wide and arms out to keep himself steady. His heart is oddly out of rhythm, thundering disgustingly against his rib cage. There is a strange and dark heat lower than the ribcage that makes him instantly anxious. Lark is looking down at the reader, one hand to the headphones. He looks up, confused.

“The signal. It’s big.”

“Oh.”

The two friends stare at each other.

Then the salt around the attic entrance scatters and Xavier is swept up into the air by his ankle, screaming.

—

Tino’s hands sweep plaster dust from Xavier’s shoulders. He pats leather gloved hands on him creating puffs of dust and debris. Xavier tries to hold it in, but he immediately sneezes loudly and makes the priest lean back. He’s smiling, though. He has one of those kind older smiles, that have wrinkles at the corners of both his mustached mouth and his eyes. Xavier tries desperately to not feel excited to have that paternal attention, or to be on the receiving end of a little care.

“Well, that’s not how we were expectin’ that to go, right?”

“Sorry, sir,” Xavier replies, dusting his own hands off on himself. “I, uh, I think I was distracted.”

“Obviously.” Benji’s remark cuts in, his face set in that menacing sneer. Xavier’s cheeks warm painfully. His mouth opens to say something back—as they do. A constant snipping war that he feels unequipped for because Benji is undoubtedly more clever than he is. Faster with his words and harder to knock off balance. He hasn’t once made Benji blush the way he has.

Only Lark’s hand closes around his elbow and Xavier’s teeth click shut.

“Stop being an ass, Benji,” he comments, shifting around to join them by the van.

“Oh, are you goin’ t’stop me, then?”

“Aren’t you tired from a long day of not helping exorcise a spirit?”

“I helped,” Benji’s face turns from sneering to pouting so quickly, the fluid motion fascinates Xavier. His eyebrows take on a different tilt. A softer one, and his lower lip protrudes in such a way that it looks fuller. Nicer. Xavier stares for a long moment, before he looks over at Tino, who is equally staring at him. The sudden feeling of being caught makes him jump for the van.

“Well, y’all did good. Regardless. We’ll have to explain the damage to the attic,” and Tino’s voice slowly becomes a nice even sound for Xavier to listen to. He situates himself into the back seat, long legs awkwardly folded up, arms around himself as he leans his head against the window. He has a horrible bruise on his side from the spirit, but otherwise, he’d not gotten too badly hurt.

Weight shifts the van around and he rolls his head to the side, expecting Lark. Only Benji sits there instead. His hands are already fishing through the nice, black leather jacket he wears. He produces headphones and without looking at Xavier, promptly puts them in his ears and looks out the other window.

For the whole ride home, Xavier tries not to notice that their knees occasionally bump together.

[one-piecee]

#ONEPIECE1034

Back with another one piece chapter review, or as I like to say - me attempting to be articulate about my thoughts when I actually want to scream...

anyways

This chapter is called - Sanji vs. Queen

I guess we can know what to expect from it?

First of all, before jumping into the chapter, I honestly didn't even expect Oda to give us more Sanji vs. Queen since we got that in 1032, and then Zoro vs. King in 1033, but this might be that in 1033 Zoro finally gained control over Enma and is now on, what it seems to be, the final stages against King - so it makes sense to give us more Sanji vs. Queen to end it right before the climax. After that Oda can focus on ending the rest of the fights (with the exception of Luffy vs. Kaido of course) and then ending Sanji/Queen and Zoro/King simultaneously right before Luffy's fight (I'm guessing, but it can go whatever way)

I absolutely loved the start of this chapter, with Momonosuke realizing he too can grab onto the flame clouds to try and stop Onigashima from falling into the flower capital -

And now we come back to the fight between Sanji and Queen, and Queen decided let out his 'trump card' - using the techniques from the Vinsmoke brothers. "Judge's sons are the culmination of his scientific work" and because Queen and Judge seem to have this feud over their technology, mastering Judge's sons techniques is technichally matching Judge's scientific work -

1. Ichiji's Sparkling Valkyrie becomes Sparkling Queen

2. Niji's Henry Blazer becomes Henry Queen

3. Yonji's Winch Danton becomes Winch Queen

Sanji counterattacks by breaking / burning through his arm

"Did you think I'd let you dominate the fight" is what Sanji says to Queen, after his attack. After breaking the raid suit, and calling zoro to ask him to kill him after the war incase something happens, he's decided to live with the added power his body provides - he's not the same man anymore, he's accepted his fate.

Queen brings out one final trump card, the final replica, the technique of the other 'vinsmoke son' -

4. Stealth Black (which just, is him disappearing, the invisibilty)

Using the raid suit would enable Sanji to also use stealth black techniques and disappear but he broke it, and last time he disappeared people seemed to believe that "wHeN hE bRoKe tHe cAN fUmEs fRoM iT GoT iNtO hIm aNd tHaT's hOw hE dIsApPeArs" No, people, he's just moving at a speed so fast he can't be seen - "moving faster than the eye can see"

Couple that with his exoskeleton, and the "armament haki training" that he does, and enhanced strength he can also, besides mimicking stealth black movement and disappearing (if that wasn't enough) withstand "flames much hotter than before"

so if we had Diable Jamble - devil's leg - we now have

Ifrit Jambe

and ifrit, in islamic mythology, is a powerful demon who inhabits the underworld, often associated with the spirits of the dead //basically Sanji is bringing forth the flames from the underworld

and if that wasn't enough, he casually drops nine named attacks in a row, which kind of reminded me of his fight a long while ago, against Kuroobi (the fishman from Arlong Park)

Basse Côte, Parlons, Jumeau a Biftek, Tendron, Flanchet, Queue, Poire, Jarret

and ends it with

and wow, what an amazing panel. This will look amazing animated.

PS. We also find out (or confirm, for most of us) that Sanji did not hit that woman, it was actually Queen using his disappearing technique. That's why the woman thought Sanji did it, since she couldn't actually see Queen, and Sanji was the only one there...

PPS. Break next week.

PPPS. Does this seem like a final move to you? I could see it, but I'm also not entirely sure.

[sashi-ya]

Just a random thought about a simple rat on Ch. 1034

I was writing day 6 with Ace but suddenly remember the little mouse on ch. 1034... THE RAT IS CALLED CHUJI. I know CHU it's not a japanese number, but I think it's the sound mice make, like "chuu chuu"

Reiju, Ichiji, Niji, Sanji, Yonji and... CHUJI!

Besides that little cutie reminds me of Sanji's past he also has a similar name.

Oda...

[ninhaoma-ya]

Chapter 1034 — Sanji vs. Queen

Things just keep moving forward, don’t they?

Also - found my very first Pandaman! My joys is infinite and my pleasure wast as the ocean.

Yes, you are Momo. Although I wager that he will have to learn how to conjure clouds of his own when Kaido is defeated and his powers stop working.

I’m just really enjoying the very graphic difference in might and power. Last week we saw King tower over Zoro; now it’s tiny blob-Sanji standing against huge blob-Queen.

Is Sanji’s speed approaching that of Kizaru? If Sparking Insert-Attack-Here is some sort of loser modification, he jumped out of the way quicker than the speed of light. That’s some oomph.

I also love Queen’s attack naming strategy. Wonder what the official translation will say, but it’s just so… him to just tack “Queen” on to every attack of his.

And this makes me want to learn more about MADS and Judge and Vegapunk! Why are the attacks called Sparking and Henry and Winch? Is it the first names of the involved scientists — how come they both use the same names for the techniques?

Just look at this beautiful panel.

Sanji’s motion continues around Queen, the broken wall behind the dinosaur lining up with his current trajectory. Queen is just standing there, unmoved (and unmoving) and enjoying the carnage with a little smile on his face. Reminds me of the scene in Udon where he deflected Luffy’s hit:

So self-assured.

But then, Straw Hats V: The Cook Strikes Back!

The limbs really are a-flying in this arc, aren’t they?

Flabbergasted Sanji is so cute.

And Queen’s malicious grin… <insert evil laugh here>

Few do Shocked Pikachu Face better than Queen.

However, here we again see Oda’s masterful storytelling.

Both adversaries are now hidden and probably keeping as silent as possible, so as not to alert the other to their position. A treacherous calm descends on the scene as they weigh their options.

An unwary passerby could even be fooled into thinking the corridor is deserted.

And of course it’s the geisha from earlier.

This is one of the drawbacks of the breakneck pace mangaka have to deliver at. With a little more attention to detail earlier on (or a more fully formed plan), her presence and the Did Sanji Hit A Woman???-question introduced in chapter 1031 wouldn’t feel so shoehorned in. Hopefully the anime can expand on this and make us care for her —and question Sanji’s humanity— a bit more.

Some more thought-text-blocks, following last week’s Zoro-contemplations.

I’ll have to start my re-read of the manga at some point, but I don’t recall many earlier info-dumps through thought-bubbles, which has been one of the strengths of One Piece. Oda has always been great at showing rather than telling and that has made earlier upgrades feel more natural. When we don’t see things happening, the power-up feels like… a power-up, not natural progression and development. He tried ‘showing’ with Zoro and Conqueror’s haki, hinting at it in the beginning of the raid, but maybe that’s what still irks me about it; there were a few “could have been haki, could have been the castle falling on top of you” and so the introduction last chapter felt a bit forced. Sanji’s upgrade is a bit more natural, more showing than telling: we have seen his exoskeleton take hits for quite some time now (but why did Black Maria’s hits hurt him so bad then?) and how he can combine his newfound abilities with his existing ones is more an internal revelation which would be difficult to show externally, so the internal monologue is more justified in this case.

Still a bit iffy about it, though. It ties back into the discussion on if “freedom” or “destiny” is a bigger theme — so far, One Piece has been more about “freedom” (‘yes you can become the pirate king if you are determined to work hard for it”) but we’re veering more and more into “destiny” (‘a prophecy about a saviour has been made and there is a Chosen Joyboy who will Do Something Big’) and I really don’t like it.

[1989nihil]

so ooooooookay idk why but i think Wakasa is not Rum. yeah she was there when Heneda Koji died, but i am guessing she was in fact the bodyguard of Amandac Hughes staying at the same hotel. and Rumi may have had a fling with Haneda and now is out and about to look for who tf is responsible for both Henda’s and Hughes deaths (spoiler, it wasn’t Envy), being secret service and all, yeah, she’s defo on the trail of the B.O. and is now looking (in an albeit creepy af) way into Conan and see if he can be of help... I mean if she was Rum, wouldn’t she have, after some time of pretending to be the nice teacher just up and offed Haibara by now?

and while i am at ti... someone please tell me to gtfo here and hit the hayit’s quater past shit AM

[mangaritsu]

[larkreadsop]

This gets clarified later in an SBS but Sanji’s always been unnaturally fast so utilizing his own innate speed to essentially be able to move faster than the eye can see is a pretty useful alternative to needing to use the Raid Suit. It’s not exactly the same but in battle it can accomplish the same thing.

[chhoso]

OP CH 1034...... sanji my beloved

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

Good morning Everyone!!!

So, to show that I have not only been buffooning around in the past few weeks (although, between my IRL work and trying to sleep, I do have a way less time than I wish I had -but drowining myself in coffee absolutely helps me to be more productive!), allow me to share a few WIP of the five ficlets I have been working on.

ASSASSIN’S CREED SYNDICATE

“In the Heat of the Moment- Ch.2 - Secret Little Lies” (Current Word Count: 3512)

“In the Heat of the Moment- Ch.3 - Homeward Bound” (Current Word Count: 1504)

”Solstice Dance” (Current Word Count: 1383)

”Moonlight Kissed” (Current Word Count: 3489)

ASSASSIN’S CREED II

Rondò Veneziano (Current Word Count: 1034)

So, you see. I have been writing. It's just that between IRL and my own ADHD brain I am slower than a snail.

But I am working as much as I can on all of these!💗😊

Well, I will see myself out for the night.

Time to go to sleep for me!

-Nemo

[hazelsheartsworn]

THE KIDS AREN’T ALRIGHT

THE KIDS AREN’T ALRIGHT | CH 1: “Army of One”

Summary: A series of memories from both Cardan's and Jude's POV about Cardan's descent/ascent to that mean feral Prince and then King of Elfame.  This is mostly to add more background to his traumatic childhood and to highlight more of Cardan's cruelty that Jude mentions in the book.   Basically, Cardan is yes, soft for Jude, but neither he nor Jude are good people. This will mostly switch between Jude and Cardan POV, but the memories will go roughly chronologically to show Cardan's growing cruelty.

Rating: Maybe I’ll go there, Maybe I won’t

AO3    |    Masterlist

Chapter 1:“Army of One”

WC: 1034

[CARDAN POV - during Jude’s exile]

Reclined across a settee, legs draped off one arm, Cardan sighed, biding his time while his valet, Delwyn, deliberated between two ascots for the High King’s wardrobe.  While perfectly capable of dressing himself, Cardan was often more concerned with sleeping off the previous night’s revel than prolonging his opportunity to preen. He used to plan out every detail of an outfit just to witness the fluster in his former seneschal, now wife, whenever she first saw him each day.  With her exiled, well, the effort and attention to detail didn’t thrill him quite as much.  He was loath to admit it, even to himself, that Jude’s opinion and attention means more to him than anyone else’s. 

How odd, he thinks, that he is no longer bothered by the attention of the Gentry, of the court.  It was not long ago that Balekin brought Cardan, barely 11 and wearing dirty rags and disheveled hair, to Hollow Hall. He had a valet then, too, one which Balekin assigned to him. Then too, Cardan was sent to school with Gentry. This, he recalls, this is when he first began to transform from crude and feral into a refined ferocity. As Cardan spies the small valet sifting through shirts, he leans his head back against the settee arm and closes his eyes, fully visualizing the painful memory.  

On that first day, his behavior and movement were erratic, like a skittish animal. Everything was new and unknown, from the clothes to the organized group and expectations.  His clothes were finely tailored and appropriate, though he fidgeted and picked at them, anything but threadbare rags were foreign to him.  

The class was outside for lecture, everyone sitting semi-circle around the instructor. All the other children watched Cardan with mingled curiosity and knowing glances.  Some obviously recognized him and smirked to see him so clean, fully-dressed, and unsure.  Cardan already knew children were cruel, but this new scrutiny, which he now had to endure to keep room at Hollow Hall, was unwelcome.  He willed his tail to still, rather than reveal his acute discomfort. 

Worse yet, when the teacher invited him to sit, Cardan gingerly sat down, his bottom too sore from the previous night’s lashes to sit comfortably on the ground.  A small mewl escaped him as he shot back to his feet, students gasped and snickered, and the teacher balked.  Despite the instructions otherwise, Cardan remained standing at the back of the group, his first of many acts of defiance at school.  He already knew the foul feel of scorn on his skin.  He let their judgement settle over him like a layer of varnish.  Mortals used it to protect carved wood since they didn’t have magic to do so.  Cardan would do the same, letting the derision harden into another layer of armor.  Rather than be a source of mockery, Cardan would draw their attention with his contempt, hiding his pain and developing himself as a terror.

He remained there behind everyone else for the remainder of class and the rest of the day.  At one point his tail twitched, eliciting an involuntary flinch. One of the mortal twins  caught the movement and glanced toward him, eyebrows drawn together.  Cardan couldn’t tell whether she meant to convey confusion or pity, or both.  It didn’t matter.  Seeing as it was a mortal who caused the welts on his body, albeit a glamoured mortal, Cardan felt the same anger and shame as the night before.  Before the heat of his embarrassment could reach his face, Cardan tilted his head and slowly revealed all his teeth, then let loose a guttural hiss infused with malice.  Young Jude, as Cardan now clearly discerns, narrowed her eyes, knitting her eyebrows closer together, before returning her attention to the lesson.  

The twitching of his tail shakes him from the recollection.  Delwyn had spoken to him. Cardan blinked slowly, reluctant to dismiss his wife’s hard-set stare from his mind.  He applied the same sluggishness to his body.  Let him appear languid, indifferent to the valet’s inquiry.  It took several beats before he turned his head, still resting on the settee arm, toward the small pixie.  With a lazy turn of his wrist, Delwyn reiterated.

“Your Majesty, would you rather the cravat or ascot?” He eagerly extends his arms showing off his final selections. 

He grimaces, “Delwyn, remind me the reason for your attachment to mortal clothing.” 

The pixie turns his hands inward to glance at the neckwear, “Oh, Your Majesty, I suppose it’s nostalgia at the heart of it.  Nostalgia for when I helped a young farmer and wife with the planting. I stayed on the whole season. He and the missus were so pleased she made me my own three piece suit as a gift! I left the next day, long before the farmer realized I helped harvest the bounty from his bed as well as his fields!”  His lips twist up in a lascivious smirk. “It’s fascinating, you know, all the ways you can sow and unravel mortal things.” 

Cardan allows one corner of his mouth to slash upward in response, familiar with the tale.  In fact, it was why the High King selected the pixie as his valet, shortly after he overheard Delwyn loudly regale a crowd of revelers with this same story, using hand motions to make explicit his play on words--for his bawdiness and his refined taste in tailoring, and, secretly, his attachment to the mortal world.  Delwyn often brought mortal fashion magazines with him to the High King’s chambers which Cardan would leaf through, feigning disinterest, while he thought what might impress Jude when she returned.    

His tail flinches again with the thought of his wife.  Somewhere, deep in his chest, he feels a pang of longing and his hand drifts to his chest to knead it away.  Yes, Delwyn is always impeccably dressed, and ergo, so is Cardan. But perhaps he should not wear anything today which would draw his mind to anything mortal, to her.  Too quickly, his mind darted through questions in quick succession. When was Jude going to return to Elfhame?  What was she doing now? Does she even think of him from the human realm?

END NOTES/Planning Thoughts: In HTKOELTHS by Holly Black, Cardan is 9+ “not so many years” when he moves into Hollow Hall; then starts official school in Faerie. So, I assumed that at first, he’s not used to acting with decorum (remember that Balekin indicates when he takes Cardan in that his hospitality includes a new wardrobe, training in etiquette, Faerie school, and punishment by glamoured mortals)

Thank you, @coffee-and-corsets for beta-reading and supporting feral Cardan!

[dcmkscreenshots]

Best friend dynamic!!! They’re so good and supportive for each other!!! 

(Ch. 1032-1034: Edible Wild Plants Collecting Case)

[gusu-emilu]

Cantatio: Chapter Four

Ship: Lan Zhan / Wei Ying (POV Lan Zhan)

Summary: Wei Ying and Nie Huaisang cause trouble in Lan Qiren’s class. Lan Zhan isn’t amused.

Cloud Recesses Academy AU, Rated T (technically this is a series but this chapter can stand alone too) - read on AO3

< Ch. 3 | Ch. 5 > |  chapter list

Lan Wangji had expected the first day of classes to be long.

But not this long.

The expression ‘time flies when you’re having fun’ had never held much truth for the young cultivator, who believed that a better phrasing would be ‘time proceeds at a pace directly proportional to one’s concentration.’

Being trained in Daoist meditation techniques since his first sign of infantile self-awareness had granted Lan Wangji the ability to bend his perception of time with his focus. When he rose long before dawn and sat in Lotus Position to meditate, the silent depths of stillness enabled him to traverse hours in what felt like the blink of an eye, yet the insights he obtained remained undistorted by the time skip.

Unless he was disrupted by the loud crash of Wei Wuxian falling out of bed on the other side of the room.

But that was beside the point.

The more Lan Wangji focused, the faster the world moved. His studies were one of the pursuits that he paid the most careful attention to. He listened to professors with unwavering interest, picking up on the slightest inflections of their voices, and he ruminated on intriguing sentences for hours after a lesson finished. Therefore it made sense that although the school day would be long, its duration would be reasonable, for his mind would be well-occupied.

Yet Lan Qiren was still lecturing about Ancient Texts, and it was only the first class of the day!

The problem was not a lack of interest. Ancient Texts had always been a special aptitude of Lan Wangji. The problem was that he wasn’t fully focused on the lecture, and therefore it dragged on. As Lan Qiren’s stentorian voice intoned perfectly pronounced phrases of poetry, his mind kept ping-ponging between thoughts of what he would say to Wen Qing about last night, what Wei Wuxian looked like while sleeping—no, that never crossed his mind—and what could be inside the strange closet that sat smugly in his dorm room. He imagined that the closet was fully aware of the mess it had caused and was snickering at the shameful memory of Lan Wangji being thrown around a girls’ dormitory by a giant beetle.

Rule #1034: Learning comes first.

Lan Wangji needed to recenter his focus.

He picked up his brush and pressed the end of its handle into his palm. It was highly improper to mistreat a calligraphy tool like this, but Lan Wangji was getting desperate.

The pressure from the blunt wood roused him back into the moment.

Lan Qiren was pacing alongside the disciples’ desks, his mustache whiskers quivering as he spoke with a stern yet aloof tone.

“The poem I just recited was translated from an ancient predecessor to our language. Of course, translations never capture the full nuance of a passage. Therefore, now that you have heard but a cloudy reflection of this magnus opus, we will begin analyzing the poem in its original language, Trans-Himalayan,” Lan Qiren said.

The entire classroom groaned. Nie Huaisang rested his chin in his palm, looking the most bored out of everyone.

“What’s the point?” Wei Wuxian muttered. “When are we ever going to need to know Trans-Himalayan?”

“Shut up. You’ll need to know Trans-Himalayan if you want to pass the class. That should be enough,” hissed Jiang Cheng.

A few moments later, Nie Huaisang leaned over. “…Who are Tran, Sim, and Leia? They sound like the type to have a threesome.”

“…”

Every disciple in the room sucked in a collective breath of shocked amusement, their twisted smiles on the verge of bursting.

Nie Huaisang opened his silk fan and covered his own smirk in a hurry, looking at the ceiling with light eyes that concealed a calculated satisfaction beneath their innocence. A single wheeze escaped from Wei Wuxian’s mouth before he could stop it, like air escaping from a balloon.

Lan Qiren did not seem to notice. He criticized the Jin Clan disciple who was stumbling over foreign words as she recited the ancient poem for the class.

Of course, once you let go of the mouth of a balloon that’s full of air, it’s inevitable that it will fly around the room in a sputtering chaos.

“Aiya, Huaisang, that’s not how you say it,” Wei Wuxian murmured. “You’ve got the wrong people in the bed. It’s supposed to be pronounced, ‘Tran, Sim, and Lan Qiren.’”

Now at least five disciples were snickering. Nie Huaisang was silently buried in his fan, but his scrunched eyes and heaving shoulders said more than enough. Even Jiang Cheng, who was clearly counting how many hours of detention he’d get if he slammed Wei Wuxian’s face into the desk, could not prevent his lips from curling.

Ridiculous, Lan Wangji thought. He was sorry he had tuned his mind back in to the classroom.

The Jin Clan disciple was still fumbling through her recitation. All eyes were on Lan Qiren, but not for the reason the old professor would have hoped.

“Remember that really poetic line? ‘Balance to both ends of the world,’” Wei Wuxian parroted in sing-song. “Well, that’s the part where Tran and Sim each grab one side of Lan Qiren’s mustache.”

Jiang Cheng was the first to break. His high-pitched giggle—unhinged and childlike—pierced through the air like a siren. However, that surprising turn of events was quickly forgotten as the entire room erupted into feverish laughter.

The balloon had popped.

“What is the meaning of this?! Settle down! Everyone, quiet!” Lan Qiren huffed. He held his arms stiffly out to his sides with the sleeves of his robes draping in two giant hoops, as if he wanted to suck all the laughter into his sleeves to snuff it out.

Lan Wangji glared at Wei Wuxian, but the insolent clown was so overcome with giggling that he did not notice.

Apparently, Lan Qiren had followed his nephew’s line of sight to find the culprit, and soon accosted him.

“Wei Wuxian! What have you done? Confess to your actions!”

This only increased the volume of the laughter that ricocheted off the classroom ceiling into Lan Qiren’s offended ears, which seemed to spew out hot steam in protest. Lan Wangji felt a bit guilty for unintentionally ratting out Wei Wuxian to be the recipient of his uncle’s wrath.

Wei Wuxian finally reigned in his mirth and looked up at Lan Qiren with precariously composed sincerity. “I was only saying that I want to write a poem about mustache whiskers. I call it The Ballad of Catfish.”

Actually, no, Lan Wangji did not feel bad at all.

“Wei Wuxian! What is this disrespect? My classroom is no place for jokes! You should be focusing on the poem in Trans-Himalayan!”

The disciples bit their lips at the mention of the word that had started the whole fiasco, but the balloon of laughter had finally deflated.

“Wei Wuxian!”

“Yes, Shifu?”

“Do you know how to read this poem?”

“Not yet, Shifu.”

“Then why have you been chatting instead?”

“…Because I do not know how to read the poem, Shifu.”

Lan Qiren’s blood was boiling. “Wei Wuxian, since you are so illiterate, you will continue reading the poem to the class!” he barked, apparently not caring about the contradiction he just created.

“Yes, Shifu.”

Wei Wuxian blinked at his textbook.

“Where did we leave off?”

Lan Qiren sighed and shook his head with weary disapproval.

Wei Wuxian was actually able to perfectly read the last line the Jin Clan disciple had said, to Lan Qiren’s obvious displeasure. However, he was already stumped by elementary words in the next line. He must have been reciting from memory and had already reached the end of his mind’s fishing reel.

“Uh…um…” He looked up at the professor like a child asking for a piggyback ride.

“Wangji, please assist Young Master Wei.”

Lan Wangji was used to being called on to help other students. After all, it was rare that he did not know the answer.

“Swan.” Lan Wangji said the word in both languages for clarity.

Wei Wuxian nodded and continued. He was stuck again three syllables later.

“Wangji,” Lan Qiren called.

Lan Wangji looked down at the complex inky scribbles in the poetry book on his desk. He realized that he did not understand the line either.

“Lan Zhan? Some help?” Wei Wuxian said.

Lan Wangji paused, then flattened the page in front of him as he spoke.

“I do not know.”

Wei Wuxian eyes widened in disbelief. He looked at Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng scoffed and turned his head away, but his pupils soon snuck into the corners of his eyes to observe Lan Wangji with chilled interest.

“Well, huh, then…” Lan Qiren frowned. “I suppose this text is rather difficult. But that is no excuse for misbehavior! The line reads, ‘Horrified, the warrior realized that, like a swan crushing her eggs as she shielded them from a snake, it was his hand that plunged the knife into the Emperor’s heart.’ It is a pivotal turning point in the poem’s narrative and is frequently quoted by other authors. It is critical that you grasp every literary metaphor related to this line!”

The rest of Ancient Texts passed peacefully. Lan Wangji enjoyed the challenge of dissecting the poem in its original language. It was a tragic story about a warrior who, upon learning that he had been manipulated by the enemy in an assassination plot to kill the emperor he served, abandoned his beautiful homeland to hide in repentant shame for eternity.

Although the stories were different, it reminded Lan Wangji of his father.

He quickly shoved that thought away.

After class ended, the disciples entered the courtyard outside. Lan Wangji hung back. He had to tell his uncle about last night’s incident. Someone needed to be alerted if a portal really did exist in a Cloud Recesses dormitory, and who better to inform than the overseer of the Cloud Recesses himself, Clan Leader Lan Qiren?

However, his uncle already had a lot of tasks on his plate, especially now that he and the clan leaders had to track down wherever the monster spirit that possessed the beetle had come from. Furthermore, it would be embarrassing for Lan Wangji to convey the full details of his story, and he still did not have an adequate explanation for what had transpired. And he definitely was not secretly worried that if he exposed the truth of the closet door, he and Wei Wuxian would be relocated and would no longer be roommates. That was not a factor.

Yet the rules tugged at his feet and at his tongue.

Shoulder the weight of morality. Be strict with yourself. Be loyal and filial.

If he did not tell his uncle…perhaps his brother would be an acceptable confidante?

But first, Wen Qing. He stepped out into the sunny courtyard.

“Wei-xiong, that was hilarious! I’ve never had such a good time in a class!” Nie Huaisang said as he bounded over to his dark-robed friend.

“Ahaha, why give me all the credit, though? You’re a funny little devil as well.”

Nie Huaisang shook his hands wildly in front of him, as if this suggestion were too much for him to hold.

“No, no, no, I wasn’t trying to be funny! I really didn’t know how to say it!”

“Hahaha! That’s even funnier, then!”

Jiang Cheng elbowed Wei Wuxian in the ribs. “Neither of you are funny.” He grabbed his brother by the arm and started dragging him across the courtyard. “Move your ass. If I’m late to the daozhang’s class because of you, I’m going to punch your head in.”

“What are you fussing about, Jiang Cheng? You were laughing louder than anyone!”

“Was not!”

Lan Wangji swooped in front of their path. “Causing disruptions in class is prohibited.”

Jiang Cheng scowled. Nie Huaisang covered his face with his fan and hid the rest of his body behind Wei Wuxian, who stood smirking with his hands on his hips.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan! You better be careful! If you say those rules so much, you’ll turn into the scroll they’re written on!”

Lan Wangji furrowed his brow. “Boring.”

“Yeah, exactly! Okay, step aside, Lan Zhan, you’re going to make us late for class. Unless you want to be the reason we break another rule? Haha! Come on, let’s go,” he said as he tugged Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang away.

“Get your fat hands off me,” Jiang Cheng said with a shove.

Nie Huaisang turned his head over his shoulder and waved. “Bye, Second Young Master Lan!”

Lan Wangji eyed Nie Huaisang suspiciously as he scurried after the bickering siblings and disappeared around a temple at the far side of the courtyard. In the time Lan Wangji had spent accompanying Lan Xichen on trips to Qinghe, he had learned a few things about the small, skittish young cultivator.

Nie Huaisang was crafty. When he wanted entertainment, all he needed to do is throw a match into the firepit—nothing profound, just a provocative little comment that could provide some kindling—and then he would sit back and watch as everyone burned down the world around him. Most assumed he carried his signature fans for decoration. Lan Wangji theorized that he carried them to exercise his talent for fanning the flames of discord.

Of course, if confronted, Nie Huaisang would insist that he knew three times less about the world than anyone else.

On his own, the boy was manageable. Endearing, even.

But next to Wei Wuxian?

It was a partnership forged in Hell.

After the troublesome trio disappeared, Lan Wangji searched for Wen Qing, hoping to apologize for intruding in her room and discuss the teleportation closet with her, but she had disappeared after Ancient Texts.

He caught sight of her again right as Song Lan’s Beings & Creatures class was beginning. To his disappointment, he would have to wait until its completion to speak to her.

It was a long wait. Song Lan’s class did not pass peacefully.

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by liking, reblogging, and visiting me on AO3! New chapters posted every Monday on AO3 and Tuesday on Tumblr.

Ch. 5 > | chapter list

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Last seen: Vol. 8 ch. 31 (released around 4th September 2015 in Japan) or Second season, episode 9 (released 30th November 2016 in Japan)

It has been 1034 days.