tossawary

[tossawary]

I keep thinking about a SVSSS AU in which Yue Qingyuan HAD managed to come back and rescue Shen Jiu, but specifically through official channels.

Like, let's say that the previous Qiong Ding Peak Lord is a generally kind and righteous person, privileged but extremely well-meaning, such that Yue Qingyuan is prevented from taking the Xuan Su Sword due to his shizun noticing the impeding crisis and intervening somehow. Yue Qingyuan breaks down because he's desperate for a spiritual weapon that he thinks will make the final difference, his shizun presses for information, and the Qiong Ding Peak Lord is ultimately moved to help poor, worthy Shen Jiu and bring a promising young man to the sect.

Qiu Jianluo can't really do shit about this surprise visit, because Cang Qiong Mountain Sect is far wealthier and more powerful than him in every way, and he's pressured to release Shen Jiu with a gracious smile and no consequences to himself. It's underwhelming and disappointing and feels unjust.

If you want more deadly tension here, you can have it so that Shen Jiu is already acquainted with Wu Yanzi and was on the verge of snapping against the Qiu Family, and Wu Yanzi silently stalks them back to Cang Qiong because he views Shen Jiu as an exploitable weak point. There's also all of the potential tension that comes from the Qiu Family wanting to maintain and use any connection to a powerful cultivation sect.

But man, even if both Wu Yanzi and the Qiu Family are both left out of the picture, if you have it so that Shen Jiu is firmly out of their reach and safe, there's still no guarantee that Qijiu would have a good relationship. Yes, Yue Qingyuan came back for him and cares for him and that's EVERYTHING, but also... Neither Yue Qingyuan nor Shen Jiu (teenagers!) are equipped to understand their own personal traumas or each other's baggage, much less make themselves vulnerable enough to work through them in a controlled manner, still. They're the sort of people who have been swallowing poisoned water to survive for years and now don't really know the difference between water and poison when it comes to not dying of thirst.

And, because the Qiong Ding Peak Lord presumably still travels with a sufficiently impressive entourage, now Shen Jiu's wretched background will be known with certainty by the entire gossipy sect. And he will LOATHE every second of both benevolent pity and cruel condescension. If Shen Jiu was rescued through legal, official channels, he'd probably spend the rest of his life fantasizing about killing his way out of a burning Qiu Manor instead.

[tossawary]

A family member managed to score some free tickets to a theatre adaptation of Austen's "Sense and Sensibility" (by Kate Hamill) and it was a lot of fun! There was a lot to like about it, such as delightful acting performances, but here are some of the creative highlights for me personally...

Firstly: They created a "gossip chorus" of five actors, dressed as regency gentry, who delivered a lot of information by gossiping with each other (and the audience).

Austen does a lot of "telling" in her novels through witty narration; a lot of important events may actually happen "off-screen" in her work, so film and theatre adaptations often have to invent new(ish) scenes in which the summarized events are shown directly or characters deliver news in conversation. The play did show many events directly, inventing some new conversations to depict character and relationship and all that, but they also used their "gossip chorus" very effectively to quickly communicate events and ideas to the audience in a very entertaining fashion. The gossip chorus could tell the audience directly what had happened off-stage and also what this reputation-obssessed "polite" society thought about the situation.

Many scenes happened with the gossip chorus hungrily leaning over balconies or shamelessly sprawled like picnickers at the front of the stage, watching the story unfold and reacting gleefully to any juicy events. Like a peanut gallery of very nosy, very loud, very fashionable, very judgey ghosts.

Secondly: The gossip chorus often acted as the stagehands, but also as the servants announcing guests, additional party guests at a ball, dogs and horses, trees passing by on walks, and so on. They ran on and off stage as the play needed them. There were a lot of brief but hilarious interactions between them and the character actors, as they all moved about on stage together, in the way that theatre often likes to play with the "walls" of the story.

Like, the gossip chorus are obviously not always "real" people in every scene, but these ghostly characters might still speak to and physically interact with the character actors to encourage them to keep talking about something scandalous. At one point, Fanny Dashwood borrowed a teacup from an eavesdropping gossip chorus member as an example when talking about fine china. At another point, the fawning gossip chorus was rubbing John Dashwood's shoulders and feet as he talked, while the other Dashwoods sat in miserable silence, and John Dashwood comes off as deeply, hilariously self-centered and oblivious.

Thirdly: I liked the generally farcical tone. They had some very serious and sober moments, when appropriate, but otherwise, it was very much a comedy and it knew it. They had a lot of exaggeration and a lot of physical comedy, sometimes bordering on slapstick, which seems to work well when compressing and translating Austen novels for live theatre. They also set their chosen tone very, VERY quickly and effectively.

SPOILERS for the first minute of the play: In the middle of the stage is a dining table with a white tablecloth and five teacups. A man wearing an enormous hat comes out on the balcony above and starts loudly gossiping about something irrelevant, quickly followed by the other gossip chorus members popping out from all the other stage entrances, also gossiping, and their near-shouting at the audience overlaps into nonsense. The gossip chorus come together at the dining table in the center and serve each other tea, each taking a teacup and saucer, still talking loudly.

And then the dead body of Mr. Dashwood (a fairly realistic mannequin) drops from the theatre ceiling and lands heavily on the emptied dining table, already dressed and posed for a funeral.

[tossawary]

I don't think it truly hit me when I first read "Check, Please!" (many years ago now) that Jack's mom is an actress/model and Jack's dad was a superstar hockey player in the 70s, 80s, and 90s(?). Now, looking at that, I'm like, "Oh, they could have totally been doing coke off of each other's naked bodies or something in their youth. Easy."

Do I think they are/were addicts? Not really. Do I think that they brought any of that party around young Jack? No. But those industries can be very sleazy, very toxic, very abusive, and they probably had the opportunity to participate in some fairly dangerous forms of "glamorous" "fun". One or both of them might have flirted with drugs. It's one possible interpretation.

And I like the potential angst of Alicia and Bob kind of brushing that wild past off as "just what some people do when you're young and stupid and beautiful and rich", of them being settled and confident and comparatively "boring" adults now in these celebrity environments that have generally treated them very well, and this contributing to them not fully realizing just how much pressure this professional sports world that eats people alive is putting on their kid. It's just the exciting hockey juniors culture for Jack and Kent to participate in all of the underage drinking and stupid bets! Bad Bob Zimmermann can be the cool dad who looks the other way.

Until Jack overdoses on anxiety meds. And Bob is sitting in a hospital waiting room while the entire hockey world speculates about his teenage son's obvious recreational drug habits because "record and rumor has it that Bad Bob liked to party pretty hard back in the day". And it's the worst day of his life.

Also, I like the potential humor of the main characters worrying about impressing Jack's elegant and classy parents, while Alicia and Bob are 99% sure that their beloved hockey robot child was conceived on a private jet while they were VERY drunk. Bitty is worried that Jack's parents will think he's some unsophiscated southern hick who does keg stands at frat parties every weekend or something, goodness gracious, until Jack reveals that there exist photos of his father naked on his knees drinking beer from the Stanley Cup, and that those photos used to be framed in the upstairs bathroom of his childhood home.

Bitty: "...Good Lord, you weren't surprised at all to meet someone like Shitty, were you?"

Jack: "The social justice stuff was new."

[tossawary]

On one hand, I don't think that Shen Yuan's plan to "fake" his own death is actually a bad escape idea generally. He is missing additional insight into the head of a person (Luo Binghe) who now has very good reason to hate him forever and (in another life) famously likes to take gruesome revenge on anyone who has ever wronged him. Only way to get away from that kind of grudge, it seems.

On the other hand, the death that actually gets executed ends up being SO wildly dramatic and mind-bogglingly mysterious and unintentionally gut-wrenching that it's... laughable. A lot of this is not really Shen Yuan's fault, imo, as a lot of wild cards were coming up and his escape window was closely rapidly, so he seized it while he could. But the sheer MESS left behind... Incredible.

So, I'm currently imagining a scenario where Shen Yuan chooses and somehow manages to frame someone specific for his "fake" death. There needs to be some little story, right? Shen Yuan picks some truly loathsome demonic villain to blame like he's planning protagonist enrichment: Binghe can take some nice revenge on these losers for them "stealing" his original revenge from him. Neatly tied loose ends!

Airplane: "Holy shit, I don't know if I hate anyone this much to do this to them, bro. Wow. Okay. This'll be... uh, fun? Haha, what the fuck..."

Even better if Shen Yuan's scheme basically destroys Shen Qingqiu's body so that no one can do any weird necromancy shit. SUCCESS: Shen Yuan wakes up in the plant body a few years later. (Maybe the System is back; maybe it's mysteriously vanished.) He's expecting Luo Binghe to be more or less back on the path to becoming Demon Emperor of the world now that that strange Huan Hua Palace subterfuge isn't necessary... except... uh...

Well, it turns out that Luo Binghe and Cang Qiong Mountain Sect teamed up to curbstomp the poor villains that Shen Yuan threw into traffic here, and known Heavenly Demon Luo Binghe is just... hanging out on Qing Jing Peak again. There's a- ahem... obviously highly fictionalized song claiming that Luo Binghe basically had a breakdown cursing the evils of demons in front of Liu Qingge... and apparently they were both so mad at Shen Yuan's targets that they forgot to be mad at each other? And somewhere in there, the other peak lords got involved, and Wei Qingwei and Mu Qingfang did NOT like that cursed sword, and thankfully Yue Qingyuan was there to help wrestle a distraught Luo Binghe down at the end there, for Shen Qingqiu's sake.

Airplane: "Yeah, bro, I really don't fucking know. My protagonist is maybe getting something like therapy now...? Yue Qingyuan and Liu Qingge still look like they're chugging vinegar sometimes, but they're maybe trying to 'respect your memory' or some shit. Huan Hua Palace is sooo mad. Do you know how much shit we're getting from the other sects constantly for having a demon disciple? You broke them, bro. You broke my fucking story. Luo Binghe is teaching a junior painting class later and then going out on the town for drinks with his old classmates afterwards... If he's going to burn the sect down at some point, then he's being really fucking weird about it."

And Shen Yuan is, of course, horrified that he has apparently caused the protagonist to lose his groove. Were his deathbed words of wisdom too much? Luo Binghe is acting like some... normal guy trying painfully but earnestly to get over something? He has a pet dog. He's bringing snacks to weekly games night with other senior disciples. He's acting like a widower instead of collecting wives. It's incredibly "pathetic" compared to the ruthless go-getter main character of PIDW.

Shen Yuan, watching Luo Binghe try to achieve mental stability and healthy outlets: "Wow, it's worse than I thought. He's not himself at all! Should I do something to fix this?"

Airplane, who's kind of pissed that his story is in ruins but also lives here now and knows the way that PIDW was supposed to end: "Uh, maybe? Wow, I guess you could, if you really want... The broken System might like that, but... Quick question: bro, do you for real hate this kid?"

[tossawary]

I have about 10k of fic that's about as far from SVSSS as I've ever written, taking greater inspiration from fics I've written before, which I've been using as writing warm-up. It's a pre-canon third transmigrator AU from the outsider's perspective of Linguang-Jun. (Linguang-Jun having a great reputation as a hunter is something that I originally came up with for the Stardust AU.)

Like SVSSS Mobei-Jun, Linguang-Jun is fun to write because he sucks pretty bad; it's a LOT of fun to try and write a setup for him that's going to explode eventually (not yet, but eventually, inevitably) and in a specific way. How many parallels can I draw? I think it's amusing to think about how the cringefail ballad of Moshang and all the rest of SVSSS is taking place in the crater where Linguang-Jun's dreams used to be. (That happened to my buddy Tianlang-Jun, too, now that I'm thinking about it, and he decided to make that everyone else's problem.) Such is the life of a mere background character!

I don't know when I'll be posting this to AO3. I don't like to post WIP there unless I can fully focus on them. If I don't continue this story, I'll post it eventually to AO3 as an open-ended one-shot or something. But for now... Enjoy!

Warning for minor character death and graphic violence (and vomiting) in the first part, and also unpleasant demonic attitudes to things. Everyone but Linguang-Jun is an OC.

Chapter One: A God's Spear

There is no greater feeling in the world than the long thrill of the hunt. 

Chasing their prey, they become the laughing winds rushing across the yellow steppes, howling at the heels of the thundering herds, even felling centuries-old pines that have bent for every natural storm but never broken before. They send corpse after corpse of scavengers squawking and flailing for their lives. 

Mobei Yang cannot wait to sink his teeth into the monster wrecking its way across the northern kingdoms. They are chasing a Giant Sea Heron... or rather: the creature that used to be one before it met a hole in the world. Did it breathe the poisonous gases too deeply? Did it feed on the vent's escapees too hungrily? Did it become mesmerized by the shimmering chaotic energy and allow itself to dream where reality itself is torn apart? 

Who knows? Who cares? Mobei Yang's lordly brother doubtlessly hadn't cared to ask the babbling messenger either, before waving the lesser demon on to younger men who can truly appreciate the unique challenges of what an unstable Abyssal gateway can create. 

Already two times the height of a large man, the creature has swelled in size to become twice as large as that. Its brown neck has thickened, its dark head has grown a sharp and lopsided crest, and its unnaturally elongated beak is now the same size as the rest of its body, perhaps, a god's spear capable of swallowing grown demons whole. The giant creature needs its folded, white wings to walk along the ground now, almost like a large monkey or a small bat, but it struts slowly along not unlike a long-necked antelope. 

All the Giant Sea Heron does now is eat: struggling to grow, struggling to sustain its growth, struggling to fill the endless hole that's crawled inside of its core. It has left a bloody, dissatisfied trail behind it. Which the breathless messenger claimed had started with its own former mate and eggs, the messy remains found abandoned in a nest on a high sea cliff. 

The giant creature looks so heavy, lumbering awkwardly around the corpse of a Black-Moon Rhinoceros - the crescent of the horn is unmistakable - to jab its long spear back into the dark guts and yank it apart. Ah, it's picking one of those parasitic snake demons out of the body. 

Its eyes have become enormous, bulbous; they have a sickly pale color and are rimmed with mucus. Abyss-touched creatures are often sick, like Abyssal creatures themselves are often blinded by sunlight. The giant creature doesn't seem to notice anything as a brown fox darts out of the tall grass and steals a piece of the kill that had been tossed aside, nor does it care anything for the circling black vultures that aren't yet nearly so brave. 

Just looking at it, one wouldn't think that the elephantine creature is still hollow-boned enough to fly! Yet when their hunting party ambushes it, the giant creature somehow vaults itself into the sky, folding hideously in on itself and then launching upwards in an ascension even more unnatural than a human's. 

Mobei Yang watches its heavy wingbeats take it high up into the heavenly clouds, beyond the easy reach of most demons. All of their hunting prowess, all of the joy they have spilled on their skill, leaves them with nothing today. But this is nothing! When his faithful followers look anxiously towards him for direction, Mobei Yang is the first to laugh at their failure, at the renewed challenge, and they soon echo him. 

"Any excuse to extend a hunt is a cause for celebration!" Mobei Yang shouts, receiving a gleeful roar in response. "If you want a meal that doesn't fight back, then go back to the Ice Palace, cowards!" 

They don't find it again that day, but the mood is still good when they make camp, freed from the dullness of the courts. At home, Mobei Yang is a prince, sought after and respected, but also one among many formidable clan members working to keep his elder brother's favor. On the hunt like this, he might as well be the Lord of the Northern Desert already. 

The wind picks up as the sun sinks. The clouds darken and writhe against a beautiful, burning sky. Shuang Tao, his right-hand, a frost wind demon, loudly and laughingly recalls some of their best kills, their most daring and reckless feats, over the years. A blur of memories now. 

Mobei Yang knows a great deal about the habits of hunted creatures, but this one is new, even before it became the only thing in the world like it. Weak-minded creatures and demons touched by the Endless Abyss tend to go uselessly mad: short memories and shorter tempers and a thin grasp on reality if any. He's hunted Emperors of the Abyss before, those malformed masses of demonic energy that die with every step they take out of their pits, and White Sea Whales, their clever and vindictive cousins that never took man-shaped forms. 

"I'm preparing myself for disappointment, really," Mobei Yang drawls, accepting a new cup of wine. "But ahhh, that skull will look beautiful in the West Wind Palace... hanging over the hall, I think." 

As they were watching the ruined creature, it must have seen them. It must have been watching them as well. In one moment, Shuang Tao is toasting the evening and tomorrow and every hunt after. In the next moment, the setting sun vanishes all at once, as the Giant Sea Heron falls on them like the wrath of the heavens. 

Its enormous beak spears through a demon before it lands with a heavy thump, before any of them know it's there, and a second demon rolls away from the continuing jab. Not fast enough to escape the sharp drawing of blood. 

The Giant Sea Heron's massive wings crash through the camp as it lands. Mobei Yang is knocked head over heels into the grass and dust. His wine spills everywhere. 

Mobei Yang rolls with the blow and recovers quickly, unharmed, of course. And he is the first to summon his weapon and strike back, hastily followed by his hunters, but the creature is well-fed, unflinching, faster than something of its size should be, lunging like a snake. 

Its spiritual energy is unleashed with its battering wings: it's foul, rotting, almost overwhelming. Ice spears and arrows don't seem to pierce its feathers at all. Hastily formed spells break easily against the burn of its spiritual strength.

Shuang Tao throws an ordinary spear, whistling with the wind behind it, and manages to draw blood from its featherless  leg. But the wound is glancing, a shallow cut in surprisingly thick skin. 

"Mire it!" Mobei Yang shouts, summoning ice around its feet. The ice is too weak, too slow, cracking open immediately. 

He dodges its long beak, its heavy wings, its beak again. It seems fixated on him more than the others - not uncommon when dealing with spiritually starving creatures, it wants the most meal - but it still gets distracted when another hunter tries to rope its wing. It pulls on the wing up sharply, pulls the unready hunter into the air, and then spears the weak demon through with its long beak. 

It's much cleverer than Mobei Yang thought that it was. Much stronger. Not clever enough to live, but still annoying, still thrilling, still enough to bare one's teeth. 

Mobei Yang dances towards Shuang Tao's fallen spear, flips it up with his foot, catches, and then launches it towards the creature's swirling eye. 

His aim is true! Of course! The Giant Sea Heron screeches and thrashes like a dying thing, but the spear clearly doesn't punch deeply enough to hit its brain. The spear falls out in the thrashing. Messily. 

The remaining ten hunters have formed a circle around the Giant Sea Heron, ready just out of easy reach, making it more difficult to kill them all quickly. One of the other hunters makes a second spear-throw for the other eye, not nearly so beautifully. The creature ducks blindness easily and screeches. Its raised feathers crackle with resentful energy. 

Mobei Yang can see it decide to flee. Maybe they're much stronger and cleverer than the creature thought they were too. 

The Giant Sea Heron goes down and tries to launch itself upwards, only to go nowhere, to stumble, to barely keep itself upright. The summoned ice they've been throwing at its feet has easily been cracked and crushed, but the water remains, and it has been skillfully manipulated by the likes of Heng Leyang and Xi Mingzhu. 

The water demons have made a mud pit and the Giant Sea Heron's thrashing has only sunk it deeper into the trap. The half-frozen mud is harder to break. 

The creature's rotten energy rises, bubbles, and then it screeches again, disorienting in its sheer loudness, its hatred and desperation rippling through the air. Most of the hunters cover their ears and it helps very little. The unnatural sound shakes through one's entire body. The first terrible screech is still rippling through the world when the next begins. 

Such venting of power can't be sustainable, but the unnatural screeching makes the battle wretched while it lasts. 

Mobei Yang becomes the black wind around the spearing beak, then twists away to attack this ruined creature, repeatedly. But shifting forms burns under the onslaught of spiritual energy. The hatefulness of it even disrupts him once, forcing him to become solid flesh again, and dodge as an ordinary demon might to avoid a raking of freed talons. 

It's hard work keeping the creature down, baiting it this way and that, keeping out of its deadly reach. They pick and they peck, but none of them are certain how to put this Giant Sea Heron down. The Endless Abyss has made a remarkable ruin here. 

Shuang Tao's young nephew, Shuang Qiang, keeps looking towards Mobei Yang with wide, expectant eyes. This is the young frost wind demon's first hunt with this royal party. Does he expect a retreat to be called here? Does he think that the spoiled, weaker, younger prince will go running back to his lordly brother now, swallowing his pride, begging for help? Mobei Yang has never surrendered in such a way and never will while he lives. 

If a creature can bleed, it can die. Through the ruined eye again might do it... 

Mobei Yang isn't certain how long it's been when a new hunting party appears, but the dying sun hasn't fully drowned yet. They must be local demons, summoned by the screeching or the spiritual rot. 

"They'll get in our way! Keep them back!" Mobei Yang snarls at Shuang Tao, who nods and turns to his nephew. 

He doesn't need assistance. Ordinarily, he might appreciate an audience, but this battle is slipping from fascinating to frustrating. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Mobei Yang tracks young Shuang Qiang's progress. The leader of the newcomers, a rock demon by the look of him, greets their messenger with an ally's gesture. Rather than charge in recklessly, they keep their distance atop the hill. 

Most of them. 

While trying to keep the Giant Sea Heron's feet frozen down, Mobei Yang sees a smaller figure break forward from the new hunting party. Shuang Qiang lunges to catch them and... misses? He shouldn't have missed. The figure running forward obviously isn't as fast or as nimble as Shuang Tao's nephew. 

One of the Hao brothers notices and also tries to grab the intruder, his hand should easily wrap around their spear, and yet... he also somehow fails. An illusion wind demon is fast and not easily fooled, but the Hao brother stumbles as though his hand didn't touch anything at all. 

Shuang Tao lurches to intervene and Mobei Yang whips an ice spear in front of his second's middle. "Wait," he orders, "I want to see this." 

The Giant Sea Heron fixes the approaching figure in its one eye and then spears its enormous beak forward. It should split the intruder, crush them. The enormous creature is faster than this fool. 

The intruder disappears. Mobei Yang isn't sure what happens. The figure's own shadow seemed to leap up to swallow them, or they fell down into it, and the blood-stained beak spears down on nothing. There was no noticeable burst of new spiritual energy. Nothing that could be sensed above the Giant Sea Heron's rotting wrath, at least. 

The Giant Sea Heron tilts its head in obvious confusion. It screeches its unhappiness again, much to everyone else's misery, before... the ruined creature jolts and abruptly cuts itself off. 

"How...?" Shuang Tao says. "On its back?" 

"What terrible posture," Mobei Yang remarks, too surprised to put the proper dryness into it. 

The disappearing intruder has somehow reappeared on the giant creature's back, struggling for balance. Despite their slowness, despite their obvious lack of strength, the shadowy figure somehow manages to drive their spear through the creature's long, feathered neck in a single thrust. Mobei Yang sees the spear tip come out the other side. 

The Giant Sea Heron thrashes wildly to dislodge its attacker. When it tries to screech again, the high shriek quickly dies off into a gurgle of dark blood. 

At first, the disappearing intruder clings to their spear like a tied rag, but they fall off within seconds and then vanish again. 

Where they go, Mobei Yang doesn't care. While the giant creature is distracted, he becomes the black wind again and rushes forward to take their place, to put solid hands on the embedded spear, then to push all of the wrath of a noble ice demon into this critical weak point. 

The ruined creature's neck explodes in a shower of ice, spiritual energy, blood, and no small amount of feathers. The severed head hits the ground with a heavy thump before the body finally topples over in an ungainly heap of wings. 

Mobei Yang rides the collapse down easily. Then he jumps off the body, still holding half of the broken spear in his hand, and looks the weapon over. The shaft is ordinary wood. As he felt when he pushed his spiritual energy into it, the spearhead at his foot appears to be without spell or even decoration. This spear should not have been able to pierce such a creature's throat with such singular ease. 

Some of his hunters are whooping with victory, with relief, but Mobei Yang is distracted away from their celebration of him by a stranger stepping audaciously in front of him. A... teenage boy? 

This demon is a full head shorter than Mobei Yang, which puts them at a taller than average height among most other demons, and their pale face seems young. They're plump like a seal, with large, dark eyes. They have no painted marks or tattoos. Their dark hair is cut shockingly short, close to their head, just long enough to flop over furrowed brows. 

Instead of paying the rightful attention and respect to a prince, the boy is frowning at the broken spear, and first crouches down to pick up the spearhead. Like Mobei Yang, the boy is wearing a fair amount of spilled blood. He must have been close. 

The boy stands up again and looks up with those big, seal-dark eyes. "Hurt?" 

Mobei Yang doesn't understand the word at first, so poorly pronounced, so heavily accented. The boy squints at him, looks him up and down. 

"H-help?" 

As though Mobei Yang didn't just kill the creature that this boy failed to finish. The boy's eyes are already drifting disrespectfully away to one of the dead hunters, partially crushed in the battle, a gruesome but unsurprising sight. Such is life, as they say, such is death. 

One would think so, at least, except that this boy's face turns sickly and he looks hastily away. His body jerks, a hand goes over his mouth, he jerks again, pauses, and then turns away from Mobei Yang completely to vomit on the ground. 

It's not often that Mobei Yang finds himself at a loss for words. The overwhelmed awe that he often inspires in lesser demons usually doesn't realize itself so unintelligibly or pathetically as this. 

"Please, do contain your excitement," Mobei Yang says. 

The boy squints up at him, teary-eyed, only to immediately start gagging again. He holds out a hand, apparently trying to cover up the offending sights. 

"How dare you behave so disrespectfully before a prince!" says one of the nearby hunters, Junjun, a mountain wind demon. "Don't you know who this is?!" 

The boy flinches away from this looming defense, staring warily up at Junjun without any sign of understanding. 

"I don't think he does," Mobei Yang says dryly. 

Unfortunately, Junjun takes this as introductions being in order. "This is the greatest hunter in the Demon Realm! A prince of the ancient rulers of the northern kingdoms, the Northern Desert Clan! The only living brother of the great Mobei-Jun! Linguang-Jun!" 

"Yes, yes, thank you." 

The boy looks between them, turning the spearhead over in his hands again and again, hunching his shoulders. "Sorry," he says, bowing slightly, once to Mobei Yang and twice to Junjun, all equally shallow. "Sorry. Sorry." 

And then, further proving his lack of understanding, the boy turns on his heel and runs away. It's so shamelessly cowardly that Mobei Yang laughs. 

"Stop him!" Mobei Yang calls out to the hunter ahead. "If you can." 

It's one of the Hao brothers, his expression immediately determined. Expecting slippery prey, the hunter should have little trouble; they're all used to disrupting disappearing tricks with their own spiritual energy, all of them practiced at wrestling opponents back into solid forms. 

Mobei Yang is surprised again when the flinching boy slips into his own shadow and then appears on the hunter's other side. 

The Hao brother is enraged, of course, which is at least amusing. The hunter roars and chases after the slow boy, who stumbles, looking over his shoulder with wide eyes, and then vanishes again. The boy reappears and disappears a few times on his way back up the hill. The Hao brother catches him once, only for the boy to apparently melt away in the hunter's hands, despite an obvious attempt to use spiritual energy to disrupt the escape. 

"Enough of that!" Mobei Yang decides, when the comedic pair are too close to the other hunting party. "Stop playing with your prey and come back here!" 

The Hao brother stomps back to join the other surviving hunters, gathering behind Mobei Yang. The newcomers whom Shuang Tao is escorting forward hardly seem fearsome, but appearances do matter. Mobei Yang looks best when he looks better than someone else. 

The boy skirts wide around Shuang Tao and dives back into the party of newcomers, which... doesn't seem to welcome him back with any enthusiasm. Like larger beasts dutifully making way for some tiny but venomous creature. The boy lurks behind the rock demon leader, peeking out warily, like a plump little seal sticking its snout of the ice. 

The rock demon leader is a large fellow, a little taller than Mobei Yang himself, fat and strong. Far more grim than handsome. A stone that ice could crack open without much difficulty, Mobei Yang is sure. 

"Greetings and welcome, Linguang-Jun," rumbles the rock demon. 

"This is Bocheng, the next clan leader of the Flying Mountain Clan," Shuang Tao offers. "Sworn to the Northern Desert Clan, of course, and at our service." 

Bocheng the rock demon appears less than pleased by his required obeisance, but Mobei Yang doesn't care much if some backwater warrior hates the fact that he has a king. So long as all due respect is shown to the future Mobei-Jun. 

"And who is that?" Mobei Yang gestures vaguely behind the rock demon. 

Shan Bocheng the rock demon's frown deepens. Some of the others step plainly away from their leader and the coward, so unwilling to shelter the boy from their superiors, even though demon children are supposedly all precious creatures. Sighing, the rock demon pulls the boy up beside him. His massive hand spreads across the mulish boy's back and touches those hunched shoulders with no trouble. 

"You introduced yourself to my hunting party so audaciously before," Mobei Yang observes. "You truly do have trouble finishing a job, hm?" 

The boy looks around miserably. It's like watching some pitiful sea creature try to crawl back inside its shell. 

"He wants to know your name," Bocheng says to the boy, with the slowness that one might offer to a particularly stupid baby. "Name. Naaaaame." 

Mobei Yang can see the way that the boy's eyes light up, before he bows again, deeper this time, and stays there. 

"Beida Wan," he says. "Sorry. I... sorry. Sorry." 

"That's a rather long name. So unique. Not very lucky, though," Mobei Yang says. Shuang Tao laughs, while some of the other hunters chuckle. 

"Sorry," the boy says again. "I... help." 

Bocheng the rock demon sighs again. The mauling of each word suggests another language, but none of these other clan members are stepping forward to offer their translation services. 

"Does he not speak Tongyu or Beiyu?" Mobei Yang can also follow the whispered conversation between two of the newly come wind demons, but there's no need to enlighten them of that yet. 

"No, we don't know what language he speaks," the rock demon says. "We don't know where he's from." 

"He just appeared one day and now he won't leave," complains a young water demon. "Because he saved Bocheng's life somehow, more or less, we can't just-" 

"Yubo, shut up," says the rock demon. 

"He really didn't know who he was interrupting," the young water demon insists. "Still doesn't. Stupid." 

"Let's hear this mysterious mother tongue," Mobei Yang decides. "Perhaps I or one of my faithful followers, worldly warriors that we are, will recognize a few words of it. Say something, boy." 

When everyone turns their eyes onto him again, the boy once more tries to shrink into a shell that isn't there. It takes some more prodding from the rock demon to get the confused, then annoyed boy to produce more than one word at a time. 

"Whadda fuckayou wan' fro'me?" 

Mobei Yang looks at Shuang Tao, who shrugs unhelpfully, and none of his other hunters step forward. There are many isolated languages and wretched dialects across the Demon Realm alone, but Mobei Yang doesn't even recognize the general sound of this one. It's very flat. 

"You must be a very long way from home," Mobei Yang says finally. 

The boy doesn't answer. He doesn't seem to understand the statement at all, squinting helplessly before taking shelter again behind the rock demon. 

Mobei Yang is distracted then by more conventional affairs. The locals had apparently been watching this destructive creature and had been preparing to kill it themselves, and so now must at least pretend to be grateful that their superiors arrived to defend them. Tradition and respect also demand that these lowly demons make an offer of hospitality. 

Some of his hunters are injured, two are dead, so arrangements must be made. Mobei Yang graciously accepts the hospitality outwardly, while inwardly accepting that there will be some trouble from his mother's family for even briefly associating with one of their many rivals, which is exactly what he'd wished to avoid when they set up their now-ruined camp instead of seeking shelter. Perhaps if he does his hosts sufficient damage during his stay, subtly of course, the familial moaning and groaning will be minimal. 

While Shuang Tao negotiates with the locals regarding the Giant Sea Heron's curse, Mobei Yang studies the intruder again. The Beida boy is staring at the sky, occasionally swallowing retching. He's been staying close to the rock demon like a little fly. How does someone with such obviously poor cultivation have such remarkable abilities? 

In his mysterious language, the boy mumbles to no one: "Didwe jus' killa fuckin' pterosaur...?" Utterly unintelligible. 

Beida Wan is cultivated enough that he eventually notices Mobei Yang watching him. He stares back, at first, his brow furrowed, and then shuffles to hide behind their shared host again. 

Chapter Two: The Wind Demoness 

That night, under the silver moonlight, Mobei Yang has his heart suddenly and ruthlessly stolen from him. 

The Flying Mountain Clan's fortress is built on and into a tall hill, the foundational stonework not unimpressive, presumably the work of several generations of rock demons. Of the many villagers still awake to greet them, Mobei Yang takes note of the mixture of rock and wind, with some noticeable brides of ice or water, some less distinguishable types, and some here and there of the animal kinds. It's all very rustic and quaint. Very homely. 

Mobei Yang is being led to the crown of the fortress in the hill, where rests the clan leader's home and his temporary accommodations. Most of his other hunters will be scattered around the other better residences in this place. 

"Oh, when we heard that monstrous screeching, I didn't dare to dream that your hunting would bring back such a handsome trophy. You are most welcome to our humble home, Linguang-Jun!" 

Mobei Yang looks away from a weathered stone carving of rampaging Red River Horses and up to the speaker standing on a stone ledge. His breath abandons him, as though plucked out of his lungs by fine and clever fingers, as though beaten from his chest in a single, mighty blow, and his unguarded heart is carried out along with it. Looking down upon him, veiled in moonlight, is perhaps the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Peerless. 

He is not, let it be said clearly, a stranger to beautiful women. This demoness is tall, broad-shouldered, and her pale skin glows like untouched snow under the moonlight. Her finely beaded dress glitters faintly as she moves and bares most of her stunningly long legs, which have all the hardness and thickness of a powerful runner, the pride of any wind demon. She's wearing long, complicated braids in richly black hair. With a smile of such pretty fangs, she should be wearing pearls and jewels, instead of merely metal bells and ivory. Her pale gray eyes glow nearly as bright as the moon behind her. 

"We have not had a noble demon lord grace us with his presence in too long! If only I had been given time to prepare for you, Linguang-Jun... Days! A month! A year! We can only hope to meet some of your princely expectations..." 

"All of my expectations when it comes to enjoying my stay have already been effortlessly succeeded," Mobei Yang promises.  

This demoness's indulgent laugh is like the sweetest of songs. He desperately wishes that he wasn't covered in both dust and dried blood for such a fortuitous meeting. Fate can be so cruel. 

"My only disappointment is that we haven't met before," Mobei Yang continues. "Oh calamity, have you been busy battling the heavens for daring to outshine them?" 

"No, for they must be arguing over who among them has to face you in battle, Linguang-Jun, for such a wicked tongue," the laughing demoness answers, her smile wolfish in its wideness. "But the little human gods are welcome to come when they are ready." 

"What handsome trophies that hunt would make," Mobei Yang agrees. "Far more worthy of such a wonderful hostess... whose generosity may also, I hope, extend to her name...?" 

"Xiang Ningyue, the only child of Clan Leader Xiang Peng." 

Before Mobei Yang can remark that her mother must have been the moon itself, that grim-faced rock demon steps forward, pulling that strange, stumbling boy ahead of him again. It's understandable that the local demons wouldn't enjoy seeing their greatest beauty be so appreciated, but the interruption is nevertheless annoying. 

"Wife," says Shan Bocheng the rock demon. "Beida Wan needs to be washed. I'll see you it that our honored guests are given baths as well." 

Mobei Yang closes his mouth. 

Wife? Wife?! 

Xiang Ningyue, the most beautiful woman in the world, lets out a soft moan when she sees the boy covered in blood. "Oh, what did you do to yourself now?" 

Beida Wan frowns up at her and predictably says nothing, still trying to fold himself away into the protective shell that he doesn't have. When Xiang Ningyue sighs and gestures for him to come closer, he shuffles forward without any apparent appreciation for the privilege. 

"You're not coming back into our home looking like this! How am I supposed to-? Oh, fine! Fine!" 

Xiang Ningyue apologizes sweetly to them for this, before throwing out an impressive array of orders towards her husband, their servants, her clansmen, and her clansmen's own servants, as confident and as impatient as a whirlwind. Mobei Yang is still mildly stunned and nauseated when she drags the strange boy off. 

"...If I had such a wife, I wouldn't dare introduce her to any higher demon," Mobei Yang murmurs to Shuang Tao, who snorts in agreement. 

"She seems very willing to be stolen." 

"Mmm, clearly this pile of rocks is a little more interesting than previously known." 

A cold bath is most refreshing, even if the following meals are hasty and unbefitting of their stations: some lamb and vegetable stew, which is at least well-spiced. The accompanying wine is tolerable. 

While eating, Mobei Yang and his attending hunters suffer through a long and dull conversation with the elderly wind demon clan leader, the beautiful Xiang Ningyue's father, and Shan Bocheng, who is apparently the clan leader's most fortunate son-in-law. Mobei Yang wants the Giant Sea Heron's head for himself, that marvelously misshapen skull with its god's spear of a beak will look good mounted somewhere, but he doesn't much care what the locals do with the rest of the monster's awkward corpse. 

Xiang Ningyue rejoins them at this point, with the Beida boy slinking in behind her. The Beida boy's new clothes are less plain than before, but still oversized, now obviously borrowed, beaded and embroidered with the vibrant greens, yellows, and blues that this clan seems to favor. Very modest. The short, wet hair ruins any chance of dignity, sticking out at odd angles like an overgrown tuft of grass, partially covering the boy's eyes. 

Beida Wan is sat in the corner of the room with a bowl of stew, which he eats silently and slowly. Mobei Yang has relatives who have been poisoned who regard their meals with less disgruntled suspicion, and he says as much to the beautiful Xiang Ningyue, who laughs in her delightful manner once more. 

Xiang Ningyue's rock demon husband's glaring misery is quite delightful too, while his guests strive to make his beautiful wife cackle and preen, and so Mobei Yang doesn't call for the strange boy to be brought over to sit with them. He forgets Beida Wan almost entirely, until the boy becomes relevant in his retelling of their Giant Sea Heron hunt. 

"Trying to steal a kill from Linguang-Jun!" Xiang Ningyue laughs. "If I didn't already know that our dear guest Beida Wan is stupid, that would make it clear! How insulting! To think that you would need any help from someone like them..." 

"I can generously forgive our glorious battle being cut short if it brought me to such wonderful company all the sooner," Mobei Yang promises. 

When he looks over one or Xiang Ningyue's fine, broad shoulders, he sees that the strange demon in question is watching everyone very intently. Perhaps Beida Wan heard his name, obviously listening, head tilted shamelessly. 

"Perhaps a little more strength behind that killing blow next time, hm?!" Mobei Yang calls across the room. 

Beside him, Shuang Tao cackles drunkenly, and his other present hunters laugh and toast the stupidity and audacity of youth. The present locals join in. Except for Bocheng the rock demon, of course, though he doesn't move to defend the little fly that was clinging to him earlier. 

Beida Wan looks around at all of them, black-faced, even though there is an embarassing red flush crawling up his face. When he finally comes back to meet Mobei Yang's gaze, he bobs his head, neither quite a nod or a bow, and then stares determinedly at the floor, picking clawlessly at the beads of his trousers.

Xiang Ningyue sighs dramatically. "We've been trying to teach Beida to speak some Tongyu these past few weeks, but it's hard work! The only thing that's flatter and more useless than this demon's ears is their tongue..."  

"Does anyone in your clan have a map that this stranger can at least point at?" Shuang Tao leans forward to ask. "Or does he not know his homeland's geography?" 

Xiang Ningyue sighs even more dramatically. "He just stares at it for far, far too long and says, 'No.' Sometimes, he even shrugs!" 

"Does he perhaps... not want to go home, do you think?" Mobei Yang asks. "A remarkably slow runaway? A rather unfortunate fortune-seeker?" 

"Can he read Tongyu?" Shuang Tao asks. 

"I don't know why Beida would have run away from home, because this demon was clearly spoiled!" Xiang Ningyue complains. "No, they can't read any Tongyu either. They just scribble ugly nonsense characters into the dirt. They claim to be twenty-five years old, if you can believe it! But they're even more useless than a child when it comes to most things!" 

"Claims to be twenty-five?" Shuang Tao presses. "Does he know numbers or is he just counting tallies in the dirt?" 

"Beida can count up to ten using real numbers now," Xiang Ningyue explains, with a nod towards the latter option. "But laundry? Spinning, weaving, building, carving, braiding, cooking... They're such a picky eater, you wouldn't believe it! All useless! So useless! " 

Mobei Yang doesn't do many of those things either, but he can at least feed himself. "You're as generous as you are lovely to have taken such a useless demon into your household," he promises. 

"I know!" 

"Truly magnanimous." 

"At least they're an obedient learner," Xiang Ningyue says, finishing her second cup of wine. "Beida can count on their fingers and make stupid gestures in a way that's almost clever... but it's hard to believe that they're supposed to be older than I am! This demon really should be dead!" 

"Wife," her husband says reproachfully. 

"Where did you find him?" Shuang Tao asks, ignoring the rock demon. 

Xiang Ningyue either can't keep a secret or there isn't one to be kept. "We think that they fell out of the Endless Abyss." 

"Beida can't explain anything yet," says Shan Bocheng the rock demon, as if trying to remind his loose-lipped wife of something. "We don't know anything." 

"The Endless Abyss," Mobei Yang repeats, rubbing his chin. "Well, he's not like any Emperor of the Abyss that I've ever seen spawned in those depths before. He's much too small." 

Xiang Ningyue cackles again, as does Shuang Tao, and Mobei Yang smiles and studies the stranger again. 

A powerful warrior might go into the Endless Abyss to test their own strength, to prove themselves, but Beida Wan is much too cowardly to be an adventurer. 

Weaker demons will seek out the more stable gates into that hellish realm, the openings the least likely to tear them apart, and seek treasure or rare ingredients. One does have to be clever and slippery to survive such expeditions. 

Abyssal openings, natural or summoned, often take victims who stray too close. Some are taken when the hole in the world reacts somehow to the spiritual energy of a living creature. Others get snagged and dragged through by lurking creatures, which often can't live long outside of the Endless Abyss, but are eager for easy prey. The Giant Sea Heron killed today is the least of what the Endless Abyss can do to the things that it swallows. 

Some who are taken by the Endless Abyss manage to break free again. But most weaker demons don't survive such places physically or mentally whole. Especially not picky eaters. 

Even Mobei Yang doesn't hunt often in the Endless Abyss. His expeditions there last no longer than a few days, typically, and only through the most stable guards, better armed and armored than he is now. The lack of sunlight may be reminiscent of northern winters, but the sheer heat of some areas can be atrocious. 

"I think that Beida used to be-" 

"Wife," the rock demon says again. 

"I think," Xiang Ningyue repeats louder than before, "that little Beida used to be human." 

"Human!" shouts Shuang Qiang, the nephew of Shuang Tao, now looking at Beida Wan as though the demon might be diseased. "That's a human?!" 

"Well, not anymore, clearly," Shuang Tao says dryly. His nephew looks alarmed by the prospect of transformation. 

"Calm down, it's not catching," Mobei Yang reminds the other demons. "I hope." He sets his drink down, as the flavor seems to have gone off. "...That thing isn't one of those dream demon puppets is it? One of those artificial demons?" 

"Wife," the rock demon groans. 

"Dream demons tend to sign their work," Shuang Tao muses. 

"Well, yes, they're all narcissistic, everyone knows that," Mobei Yang agrees. "The boy is covering quite a lot of skin..." 

"But what would be the point of pretending not to speak Tongyu? Any grandmother knows how to check for possession! At least most types of possession..." 

"Beida is not possessed," says the rock demon. "We checked. We don't know that Beida was ever human." 

"I do," Xiang Ningyue says loftily. "You just don't like that a human saved your life! She saved my husband, so I spend more time with Beida than anyone, and I'm telling you: no killing instinct! None!" 

"That seems against their efforts to interrupt our hunt," Mobei Yang says mildly. 

"Oh, Beida will kill if you make them, just like they'll help with the butchering, but they're not any good at it," Xiang Ningyue says, nodding. "They'll run in to help, but they don't fight." 

"What does that mean?" young Shuang Qiang asks. 

"Won't scratch at anyone!" Xiang Ningyue says, listing offenses off on her claws. "Won't even snarl! Won't hit! Won't even willingly take a hit!  Not for fun, not for position, not for pride. Beida will run away from any fight, every time, and it makes all the boys and girls so badly behaved." 

"I've never known any demon youth to be able to resist a soft target," Mobei Yang agrees. "Our storytelling hostess, do indulge us, how exactly did your clan find this strange demon?" 

Xiang Ningyue lights up. The story isn't complicated, but it is enthusiastically told by the wind demoness: their hunting party was attacked by an Abyss-touched Sword-Toothed Tiger and her husband was injured in the ambush. Their hunting party had been, for nearly a full day by that point, followed by a stranger who had eluded all attempts to catch them, Beida Wan. Shan Bocheng insists that this distraction was the only reason that the Sword-Toothed Tiger managed to surprise him. 

To everyone's surprise, the cowardly stranger had rushed in at the last moment to assist Shan Bocheng. "Beida somehow put a stick up through the creature's jaw and into its brain," Xiang Ningyue says with an illustrative jab. 

"Without injury?" Mobei Yang asks. Sword-Toothed Tigers generally didn't simply let one approach. 

"Without injury! Owing such a debt, we of course had to take in this poor thing in, especially because Beida followed us home anyway." Xiang Ningyue sighs and says begrudgingly, "Beida does try. A real servant's heart, this demon has." 

As the wind demoness describes nursing her husband back to full strength, her vivaciousness does... falter. Briefly. Her lip wobbles as she mentions how worried she was. She and the rock demon are, according to her, childhood sweethearts, born in the same month only twenty years ago, and there may be genuine fondness between the young couple. 

How annoying. Sunk in a comfortably pool of drunkenness, Mobei Yang falls asleep that night wondering how one might lure such a beautiful demoness away from her marriage and her clan. 

One cannot simply kidnap a woman on a whim. One has to plan these things. 

He's more powerful than some backwater rock demon, of course, far more handsome, and far richer. His lordly brother even gifted him the Northern Desert's magnificent West Wind Palace as soon as he came of age! He can cover Xiang Ningyue in as many real jewels and rare bones as she likes! And when his childless, elderly brother finally passes, Mobei Yang will inevitably inherit all of his ancestral strength and become Mobei-Jun himself, and his lucky wife will have all of the Northern Desert at her whims. 

He certainly wouldn't make his peerless queen share her home with some strange, lost creature who can't speak and won't even fight for themself, neither a servant nor a second spouse... Though, what else does one do when a life debt is owed to such a wretched demon? Too publically to honorably ignore? Mobei Yang falls asleep still wondering. 

Chapter Three: A Clever Trick

The land upon which the Flying Mountain Clan lives belongs to the Northern Desert Clan by conquest, so upon them, Mobei Yang and his hunters cannot impose. Mobei Yang takes advantage of this obligatory hospitality by declaring that they will linger in this fortress for several days, until all injuries are mended and all corpses are tended to. 

"We'll have a real feast tonight!" Xiang Ningyue declares, swirling in excitement, looking out over her little queendom. "With singing and playing for the great hunters! And dancing! There are no more beautiful dancers in all the world than wind demons!" 

"Oh? You know, I've seen many wind demon dances before," Mobei Yang replies. 

The blood of the Northern Desert Clan dominates, but his mother was from the Black Wind Clan and they play on that connecting string often, trying to get Mobei Yang to dance for them where they can. 

"It seems like every dancer of skill has been summoned to the Ice Palace over the years," Mobei Yang continues. His elder brother is very, very fond of dancers. "I think I've seen everything by now." 

Xiang Ningyue smiles with all of her teeth. "You haven't yet seen me," she promises shamelessly. 

Mobei Yang laughs. "I haven't seen anyone like you before," he agrees. "You're a calamity." 

Before he can decide whether or not to get closer, to risk being scratched, a familiar figure plants itself beside them. 

"Mistress Ningyue," Beida Wan says. 

Mobei Yang sighs. "I thought you said that this demon didn't enjoy tasks such as butchering prey? He makes such a mess of your lovely name." 

Xiang Ningyue cackles, her initial annoyance melting away. "I did say that Beida was bad at everything!" 

Beida Wan looks back and forth between them warily. Away from their hosts, Shuang Tao has suggested that the strange boy may be some kind of ridiculous spy, but even Mobei Yang's second can't seem to believe his own suggestion. 

With great effort, the boy says, "Cook... say... help. Mistress Ningyue help?" 

Mobei Yang wonders if the rock demon sent the boy as interference, given that the boy clearly doesn't know better than to get between his betters and their prey. 

"That nasty old cook did not say, 'Help,'" Xiang Ningyue says, but she seems amused. 

"Help," Beida Wan repeats firmly. "Help! Help!" The boy waves his hands back and forth slightly, a mockery of flailing panic. "Help, Mistress Ningyue, help!" 

Xiang Ningyue laughs again and Beida Wan understandably looks pleased with himself for provoking it. Mobei Yang feels surprised that the strange boy is capable of humor despite his handful of Tongyu words. His smile reveals slightly crooked front teeth and small canines. 

The smile fades as Beida Wan looks at Mobei Yang again. "Ahhh..." 

"Ah, something to say to me as well?" 

"Master Bocheng say..." 

"Even repeating things is apparently too difficult," Xiang Ningyue complains. "So useless! A parrot would be a better messenger. And prettier."  

"Tr-trainer-ing," Beida Wan slurs out eventually. "Training. Lingu-Linguang-Jun." 

Mobei Yang bemusedly watches as the strange boy raises his fists, circling them slightly, in a poor fighting stance. It's vaguely reminiscent of a small child play-acting. Then Beida Wan shrugs, with those round cheeks flushed red again, and points down the hill. 

Mobei Yang follows the gesture to see a wide, dirt ring, where some of the local warriors are enthusiastically doing drills and eagerly beckoning some of his watching hunters forward. Such challenges to visitors are extremely common. And likely the only entertainment that Mobei Yang will be offered here until the promised feasting begins later. 

"Oh, we would be honored!" Xiang Ningyue exclaims, more elegantly. "Nothing interesting ever happens here! Some of our youths could stand to be made a little more worldly, Linguang-Jun, if your men would be willing to show us their strength." 

"I am your most gracious guest." 

If nothing else, Mobei Yang can show off for this peerless wind demoness, and perhaps even directly against her inadequate young husband. 

His hostess must excuse herself to the feast preparations, so Mobei Yang is escorted to the training ring by Beida Wan. Or so he assumes that is the strange demon's intention, as the boy steps back and makes a presumptuous beckoning gesture, repeating it often along the stairs and sloping roads downwards. 

It is the closest Mobei Yang has been to this stranger since the bloody death of that ruined creature. He cannot quite resist the urge to reach out and grab an arm. 

Beida Wan startles wildly, but as weakly as a child, before the boy then slips out between the fingers easily. Even with Mobei Yang making a mild spiritual effort to hold onto his prey. The boy simply dissolved like an illusion, with a faint shimmer in the air, before reforming a few skittering steps away. 

There is spiritual energy being used here, Mobei Yang confirms now that he can focus upon it. It's... slippery. Subtle. An insect landing in water: one would perhaps only notice it in a small, still pool. 

Beida Wan is looking at him with wide eyes and no teeth. "No," he says, flatly. 

Then the boy turns and runs ahead to the training ring, as though a wind demoness's son couldn't easily, immediately, close the short distance between them, if he so chose. Where does this Beida Wan come from that that wouldn't be taken as an invitation to chase? 

Mobei Yang follows sedately, ignoring the whispers and curious looks from the local villagers, and also from Shuang Tao, who has come to greet him. His hosts have set up a modestly comfortable and shaded lounging area for him and his hunters to observe the training and challenges, waited upon with drinks and cool cloths by some of the clan leader's servants again. 

Shan Bocheng the rock demon is acting as their master of ceremonies for this impromptu tournament, with Beida Wan lurking behind the young future clan leader again like a little fly that doesn't even bite. 

Predictably, there are several scowling warriors who evidently won't believe in their own inferiority without a demonstration. Just as predictably, there are several eager youths, at least half of whom are likely hoping that they might impress enough to be taken away from this place. 

"I do have some empty space in my hunting party at the moment," Mobei Yang remarks casually to Shuang Tao, just to fan the flames. 

The locals are determined to mark their territory. Some of the older warriors, canny and cultivated, even manage to put Mobei Yang's hunters on their backs several times, albeit inconsistently. Many of the villagers gather eagerly to watch. A group of younger children are squealing and shouting from a rooftop. 

Shan Bocheng is highly skilled for his young age, but not significantly powerful, and he intelligently doesn't dare to challenge Mobei Yang directly. While Mobei Yang is contemplating proposing a "friendly spar" between them, he is challenged directly by a young water demon, with more awe than arrogance, an appetite sharper than his cute teeth. 

"Yubo!" Shan Bocheng snaps. 

"Can't I have ambitions?" complains young Xiang Yubo, a cousin of Xiang Ningyue apparently, only seventeen years old. "Is it so bad to dream of losing a battle to the great Linguang-Jun?" 

Mobei Yang laughs. "I'll consider it," he tells the water demon. 

"I want to fight the boy who tried to take the killing blow from us!" declare one of the Hao brothers. "From the great hunter, Linguang-Jun!" 

Sitting behind Shan Bocheng, Beida Wan is drawing in the dirt with a stick. Unsurprisingly, he seems to be completely unaware that he's been challenged. 

"No," Shan Bocheng says. "Beida can't fight." 

At his name, the boy looks up and then around, squinting for some understanding. He scoots back, a little more behind the rock demon, like a small child. 

"He nearly killed an Abyss-touched Giant Sea Heron," says Xi Mingzhu, another of Mobei Yang's hunters. 

"That's... different." 

"How so?" Mobei Yang calls. 

The rock demon looks amusingly disgruntled, struggling to explain it. "Beida doesn't know how to fight like this." 

"Beida can stab things badly with a spear until they're dead and that's it," says young Xiang Yubo, the water demon. "And that's only if running away doesn't work!" 

"Yubo!" 

"What? It's true!" 

"Just for that... come fight Beida for us." 

"In front of-?! I'm not doing that!" 

Shan Bocheng the rock drmon ignores the whining and looks down at Beida Wan, who is still squinting at everyone. The rock demon picks the boy up by the back of his clothes and puts him on his feet. 

"Go train with Xiang Yubo," Bocheng orders. "Practice fight." 

Beida Wan's face twists up. "No," he says. He looks around at her waiting audience, then back at Shan Bocheng. "No." 

"Yes," Shan Bocheng insists. 

"No." 

"Yes." 

"No! No, no, no!" 

The rock demon has to physically push Beida Wan into the training ring and hand the boy a... staff? It nearly gets dropped. Shan Bocheng throws another staff at Xiang Yubo, who catches it easily and executes a skillful series of twirls, familiarizing himself with the weapon. 

"No... hurt?" Beida Wan says. 

"No hurt," the rock demon confirms. "No kill. Training. Practice. Go." 

Even before the young water demon can lunge forward, Beida vanishes. There one moment, gone the next, in a flicker of shadow and twisting air. He reappears on the other side of the ring without any attempt at counterattack. 

It's clearly frustrating for the young water demon, but it gives Mobei Yang the opportunity to study such remarkable abilities. Most elemental creatures can still be caught, can be followed, can be disrupted, can be forced between forms, unfortunately including Mobei Yang himself. It happened often when he used to spar against his lordly brother and all the overwhelming power of their ancestors. 

Beida Wan is... unrecognizable. Even when watching closely, there's often no clear thread of spiritual energy to follow from one point to the next. A broken trail. 

Shuang Tao is snickering at Beida Wan's clumsy form, the childish slowness, the obvious uncertainty, the unwillingness to strike back. It's distracting. It's understandable. Such remarkable abilities from such pathetic overall cultivation! 

But Mobei Yang wants to know how the boy is slipping away from a superior opponent, another warrior who is clearly experienced in fighting elemental creatures. He focuses on those subtle twists of demonic energy. 

And he finds himself thinking of... the iridescent shimmer in the air above a hungry Abyssal vent. 

Of the twisting flash of an otherworldly spiritual weapon being summoned to a waiting hand. 

Of the whisper when opening a small pouch hiding a deep stomach. 

Of a dream demon's illusions, spun by a creature hidden in another realm entirely. 

Of a monstrous creature disguised as something small, suddenly unfolding itself, ripping a giant's body out of a spiritual web to reveal its spider's trap. 

Of the way the air shakes when a Black Moon Rhinoceros Python screams. 

"...Ah," Mobei Yang says. 

Shuang Tao and the Hao brothers look at him with interest, but Mobei Yang ignores them to lean farther forward. If they can't figure it out, he's not telling them. 

The fight ends when the young water demon manages to trip Beida Wan, not for the first time, and Beida Wan is too dazed to get up before Xiang Yubo swings the tip of the staff up against his throat. The water demon taps for emphasis. 

Mobei Yang can see the boy's nervous swallow, but also the way that Beida Wan is watching the crowd more than his opponent. It's the boy's choice to release his weapon and indicate surrender. The only thing preventing his escape here should be spiritual exhaustion.  

"Well done," Mobei Yang calls out to the young water demon, who was persistent, if ineffective. 

Xiang Yubo pulls the staff back and demonstrates relieved gratitude, after such a frustrating duel. It must have been like trying to pin down a ghostly butterfly. 

Beida Wan rolls himself up and limps back to hide behind Bocheng again, sitting against the wall in a tired heap. 

"Strike back more," the rock demon says to his little fly. 

Beida Wan raises his hand sharply, an inward fist with the middle finger pointed upwards, though he drops it quickly. 

Mobei Yang wonders what that's supposed to mean. A salute? An agreement? An apology? Hard to say when Beida Wan's sweaty, red face is between his knees. 

He understands better now why this young water demon said that Beida Wan only knows how to run and kill. The boy doesn't have the strength or the speed to strike back ordinarily, to wrestle an opponent to the ground, to spar in a skillful way. All Beida Wan can do is sneak close and put a spear through an opponent's critical weak points, using an apparently natural ability to warp space itself around him. 

No wind demon, no matter how quick or powerful, can reach something that has slipped away into another realm entirely. 

Mobei Yang fights the young water demon, because it makes him look generous more than out of any personal interest. He wants to show Shan Bocheng the difference between them, especially with the beautiful Xiang Ningyue now watching from an overlook with some other local wind demonesses, their colorful scarves and skirts flowing like flags in the breeze.

And he wants to see Beida Wan's face seeing a true demon warrior demonstrate some of his strength. The boy alternates freely between very wide eyes and a frowning squint, apparently. 

Mobei Yang indulges a few challengers after that, out of boredom more than curiosity, and likely embarrasses some of them more than originally intended. The Ice Palace attracts countless challengers, fighting for countless reasons, and his lordly brother has become less and less willing to indulge any of them as the years go by; it's a responsibility on top of the countless cousins whose ambitions need to be treated like summer greenery: killed off before they become overgrown. 

The cheering and compliments are appreciated. The naked envy even moreso. "I did apparently have to prove to this clan that I have no need of help during any of my hunts," Mobei Yang says dryly, provoking laughter again. 

The rush of battle, however inglorious, makes impulses more difficult to resist. While lesser demons debate who has to follow such a performance, Mobei Yang looks towards the elusive little fly. 

"Beida Wan!" he calls. 

The boy's head snaps up. Several strings of surrounding conversation are cut off, but Mobei Yang isn't afraid of an audience. He echoes that condescending little beckoning gesture. By the way that Beida Wan's reddened nose wrinkles, Mobei Yang's demand is immediately understood. 

Shan Bocheng hauls the boy up by his collar again and Beida Wan begrudgingly slinks over to stand in front of Mobei Yang. His expression is wary. He remembers to bow in greeting quite belatedly. 

Mobei Yang doesn't give any warning before grabbing the boy's arm again. Again, Beida Wan is too slow to dodge, startling without dignity. 

"Whadda fuck?!" 

It would have been trivial to break this limb, to do far worse, but Mobei Yang waits patiently. He can feel the shift of the boy's elusive spiritual energy even better this way; he can shift his own weighty spiritual energy to counter the forces hastily moving to work here. 

He owes thanks to the depths his ancestors have given him. Perhaps also to the clan priestess who first taught him how to fortify himself against unstable Abyssal gates, so that his body and mind wouldn't be torn to pieces. And to those others who passed down onto him the ancestral knowledge of stabilizing such gates... of destroying them. Though Mobei Yang doesn't think one can discount his own impressive experience, learning how to disrupt summoned weapons and untie folded spaces and all those annoying tricks with just... a little... push. 

Beida Wan grunts, flinches, as the shadows twist and writhe and fail to whisk him away into whatever halfway realm he's been using. He pulls uselessly. He keeps trying, again and again, a panicking animal with a paw stuck fast. 

Mobei Yang keeps denying the boy an escape. It takes continuous effort, a fair amount of spiritual energy, and really, the boy should be grateful that Mobei Yang hasn't accidentally broken this arm. 

"No," Mobei Yang says dryly. 

Beida Wan stops struggling and stares up at him. Really, it reminds Mobei Yang so much of snagging a surfacing seal as a bored youth, all big eyes and flopping rage. 

Whatever this boy was before, human or not, he's just a weak demon now with a single clever trick. Remarkable abilities left raw and uncultivated. Mobei Yang laughs as he releases his unique prey, at yet another successful hunt, however short and simple it turned out to be. 

"You caught Beida," the young water demon, Xiang Yubo, says. "And he actually stayed caught!" 

"Oh, you just have to find the trick of it," Mobei Yang says airily. "Shan Bocheng, tell your clan leader that I've found some new demons for my hunting party!" 

It's like kicking over a wasp nest, with the buzzing that goes through the watching crowd. The rock demon remains grim. 

"Who?" Shan Bocheng says. 

"Such an honor!" Xiang Ningyue calls from her makeshift pavilion of ladies, far more civilized, all of her beauty on display as she leans forward. "The Flying Mountain Clan is honored to run with Linguang-Jun! But which of us are you stealing?" 

"Your young cousin, generous hostess," Mobei Yang falls back. "Xiang Yubo may have the potential to impress!" 

More importantly, the young water demon will give an excuse to return to the Flying Mountain Clan and speak with his relatives. Mobei Yang will simply have to tell his late mother's family, the Black Wind Clan, that he has a complicated plot to destabilize the leadership of their rival clan. 

"It's- Thank you! Thank you, Linguang-Jun! I won't disappoint you- I won't- I'll prove myself worthy-" Xiang Yubo stammers. 

Mobei Yang nods vaguely at the appropriate gratitude. "And I'll have this thing," he adds, pointing. "If you can bear to let this guest leave your hands." 

Xiang Ningyue cackles, as does Shuang Tao. The other laughter around them is more nervous. Beida Wan looks at Mobei Yang's finger like he doesn't know why it's pointing at him; presumably, he doesn't. He shuffles backwards... into the rock demon. 

"I... owe Beida," Shan Bocheng says. 

"And what better reward could you give than a placement with a superior clan?" Mobei Yang says, even though he really doesn't need to ask anyone's permission here. "If there's anything worthwhile to be learned from Beida Wan, the Northern Desert Clan will uncover it." 

"Yes, take them!" Xiang Ningyue calls. "If anyone can make a hunter of Beida, it's you, Linguang-Jun!" 

It's more likely that such a useless warrior will die sooner than later, but Mobei Yang doubts that the Flying Mountain Clan will truly cry over the loss. Perhaps something will be made of these remarkable abilities before that, but perhaps not. 

Shan Bocheng's shoulders sag slightly. The rock demon won't fight over this. 

Mobei Yang smiles down at Beida Wan, who remains wary and confused at first, and then hesitantly smiles back. Weakly. Not threateningly. Obviously false. Quite odd. The humanness is hard to unsee after Xiang Ningyue suggested it. 

"What an opportunity to bring our two clans closer together," Mobei Yang remarks, almost entirely to see Shan Bocheng struggle to remain polite again. "Let's look forward to the new future, hm?" 

[tossawary]

Anime North time! Friday and Saturday for sure, omw there now. Sunday, probably not, probably going to be snoozin' off the con... Maybe I'll see some SVSSS fans there again!

[tossawary]

If Mobei-Jun's mom used to be Linguang-Jun's wife, then I think it's fun to play with the idea in fic that Linguang-Jun could be Mobei-Jun's biological father. With conception occurring either pre-bridenapping (or pre- willingly leaving LGJ for his brother, it's unclear to my memory and very juicy either way) or due to an ongoing affair that picked up where Linguang-Jun's marriage disastrously ended, whatever is most suitably dramatic for the story at hand, it's easily possible! It's so messy!

However, if I played with this idea, I think it would be important to me personally that the characters never really find out for sure, because... like... does it matter? Does it fucking matter at this point? Linguang-Jun did something unforgivable and then he ultimately doubled down. It doesn't actually matter whether he did it to his nephew or his son. Fuck that guy.

[tossawary]

Thinking about third transmigrator fic ideas again and I remain intrigued by the concept of a person being shoved into the role of Mobei-Jun's mom. Stuck in a love angle between Linguang-Jun and Mobei-Jun's father, whatever the fuck went down there, sounds like a nightmare.

But I'm also intrigued by it from a character work perspective, because whatever potential fix-its or break-its that I might be tempted to apply, I'd still want this situation to produce a Mobei-Jun who is still believable and recognizable as himself: fucked-up and non-human. What do you even call this childhood experience? Being a "second-gen transmigrator"? Not fun.

Also, I want to create a setup solely for this comedic jump-scare situation:

Airplane, cursing under his breath in English (he's not fluent by any means) because f-bombs are great and no one knows what he's saying this way: "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Mobei-Jun, suddenly, in fluent English: "What the FUCK did you just say?"

[tossawary]

On the subject of companies confusing me: Sony has an upcoming animated movie for Netflix called "K-Pop Demon Hunters" about a girl group of k-pop stars who are also demon hunters. Now, I'm not big into pop, but this is more or less right up my alley. I like animation. I like musicals. I like fantasy. I like action. I like looking at sparkly pop outfits. Even if this movie's plot turns out to be terrible, just awful, I am basically guaranteed to find some part of it enjoyable anyway.

It's by Sony, which is, you know, the "Spider-Verse" and "Hotel Transylvania" studio, which has admittedly made smaller animated movies for Netflix quite recently, but is still not a small or unknown company. There are some k-pop stars attached to this and writing for it. Movie marketing budgets have, in my opinion, gotten out of hand, so maybe they've scaled it back for this one? But I would think there's plenty of material here to try and build some buzz for the movie? To at least let the target audiences know? Is that happening and I'm just really good at avoiding ads these days?

It's coming out in June 2025. It's coming out in a little more than a month and they don't have a full trailer for it that I've been able to easily find, just VERY short teasers and stills. If you are the perfect target audience for an animated movie about k-pop idols fighting demons and this is the first you're hearing about this movie even existing, then...??? What are they doing??? I know internet attention spans are allegedly shorter than ever and maybe they're about to drop the month-long marketing campaign of the century here, but I doubt it??? What's going on over there???

[tossawary]

When I was a tweenager, I really liked the Percy Jackson series and I would have lost my mind over getting a Camp Half-blood t-shirt, but they weren't... available? That wasn't a thing you could buy, at least not locally and/or officially, and it was whatever. Book series getting merch was - okay, this may just be recency bias - but it was, as far as I personally remember, understandably mainly the realm of the mega-popular and linked to their film adaptations. Your average author did not - and still does not - have the audience, the money, and the time to get cool and easily available merch going. It's work. It's a risk.

Okay, so, THEN about 10+ years after that (several years ago now), I had a younger family member who is, perhaps, even MORE obsessed with Percy Jackson than I ever was. "Oh, I could get them a Camp Half-blood t-shirt for their birthday, they'd love that," I said, thinking that it has become easier than ever to buy stuff off the internet, both officially licensed and not. And if nothing else, I could probably draw the damn logo myself and get a local place to make something, right? But we were, at this point, SEVERAL best-selling mythology series in (SERIES of best-selling books for children), so I kind of thought to myself, "There MUST be a way to buy this officially by now. Easily. This is, due to the shitty way that the world works, one of the easiest items to have a company make for you: a t-shirt with a logo on it. You can partner with one of the many, MANY t-shirt companies to have them handle all of the printing and shipping for you." I still couldn't find official shirts.

And I'm still confused about what exactly happened there. Like, you can buy official shirts NOW due to the new television show (hilariously not in my country, last I checked, but hopefully that's changed), but were the rights to print these shirts previously locked up with the studio that made those terrible movies? (I could believe that. That seems like the extremely likely sort of asshole move any studio would pull in a contract.) Was there not one t-shirt company willing to take up the mantle and say, "I will do it. I will put black ink on hideously orange shirts for geeky 10-year-olds," because a best-selling book series was too risky a property and the movies flopped? Did both the author and publisher just not... think of that as a potential revenue stream? Like, you could have made themed Camp Half-blood shirts for each individual cabin (plus the other gods initially without cabins) and put them in bookstores or on the author's website and 10-year-old me would have wanted ALL OF THEM.

I'm not trying to undermine the amount of work that goes into creating anything here, I know how slim the margins can be in any business especially if you are trying to be ethical about it, but Percy Jackson was not and still isn't your "average" book series in terms of popularity and success. Why did it take like 20 years for me to see officially licensed Camp Half-blood t-shirts? Just... what's up with that? What happened there?

[tossawary]

The more I think about it, the more the fall of Tianlang-Jun (pre-Binghe) stands out as an outrageous event in the PIDW/SVSSS world. Several great sects, some of the most powerful entities in the human world (that we know about), manage to cooperate long enough to ambush and DEFEAT the (absentee) ruler of the demon world, a famously OP heavenly demon.

The political ripples from this event this would be incredible. The demon world has to be losing their MINDS. Did anyone know the humans could do that? Are we going to let them get away with doing that?!?! Are they going to do it again?! Which demon VIP is going to be next?!?!? Should we try to ally and attack them first?! Who's getting all of Tianlang-Jun's stuff?! He doesn't have an heir! (Unless you count that weird snake creature. Most people do not count the weird snake creature, which has disappeared anyway.) Maybe I personally should get his stuff???

And the state of the human cultivation world has to be similarly unstable. What now? What next? Are they going into the demon realm to do this again? Did they get any treasure out of it? Can they use this as leverage? Are the clearly powerful and clever great sects going to remain allied? Is one of the great sects going to make some kind of bid for power, more territory or authority, out of this? Cang Qiong is getting new peak lords very soon! Even over a decade later, everyone must still be dealing with lingering reactionary ripples from the shocking defeat of a heavenly demon emperor.

And all of this is just... not really on Shen Yuan's radar as a very real, very scary event that everyone in PIDW-world is still recovering from... and as the later plot of SVSSS shows us, is not at all actually finished. Tianlang-Jun is just a name in Luo Binghe's secret backstory!

I also enjoy thinking about how Shang Qinghua reacted to it, because he may have been like, "Oh, damn, I guess the plot is happening soon! Main character incoming in a little more than ten years! Cool!" while I maintain the headcanon that Mobei-Jun must have been FREAKING THE FUCK OUT. Hi??? Hello??? His cowardly human servant's sect was directly involved in the underhanded ambush and apparent murder of a heavenly demon emperor who became too tangled with humans???

Airplane Bro as soon as he realizes that he's going to have to personally warn Mobei-Jun about what is not just "backstory" but actually going to be a major political event: "Oh, FUCK."

[tossawary]

Watched an online presentation today about recent book trends, both in retail sales and library borrowing. Romance gets a big section of course, being (I think) THE most popular genre, with several heavy-hitting subcategories including romantasy and supernatural and historical and contemporary and on and on.

I wasn't surprised to hear the presenters bring up the uptick in sports romance as a subcategory, particularly hockey, because yeah, I've seen that. Unavoidable lately if you have... uhhh... entered bookstores + logged onto library websites + actually follow NHL hockey on any social media platform. Still unsurprising, even if you have done none of those other things, if you have any passing awareness of the behemoth that is Sports Real Person Fiction in general and Men's Hockey RPF in particular on AO3. (As of me going to check just now: nearly 200,000 fics and nearly 40,000 fics respectively. Damn. HRPF is nearly 25% of the parent tag there. People are having fun over there.)

I WAS taken aback, however, when the presenter brought up a few titles to watch in the coming year, noting a potential rising type of sports romance: motorracing sports romances. Now, this is not actually SURPRISING if you have any passing awareness (which I again did) of the other behemoth that is Formula 1 RPF on AO3 (nearly 49,000 fics on AO3, more than HRPF), but I simply hadn't actually thought about the industry potential before now. It did make me think to myself, "How many book industry analyst people are taking cues from AO3 now? I mean, it seems very reasonable to pay fanfic some attention for a bunch of different reasons (it does indicate a potential ready market, I presume there are simply plenty of fanfic pleasure readers in the publishing industry, etc.), but wow... time flies and culture changes. I mean, people are publishing original omegaverse stories, for example, and have been for a while now. Wild."

And also: "Huh. Can we play the game of predicting future popular book genres, specifically niche romance subcategories, 5-10 years from now based on what's popular on AO3 right now?" Now, I don't actually keep up enough with broader fandom trends to do this well or accurately, but it's still fun to look at various fandom trends and imagine their future professional publishing counterparts that I will simply Not Understand because it's Not My Thing. If they actually figure out how to file the serial numbers off of Minecraft Gamer RPF or something someday and it becomes the next big thing, no one tell me, because I want to get blindsided, just absolutely bodied by bafflement, when I walk into a bookstore. It'll be fun.

[tossawary]

I'm still stuck on Part 2, but what finally pushed me a while back to read some of and to at least learn to recognize the major characters of "Jojo's Bizarre Adventure" was 1) I wanted to be able to recognize JJBA cosplays so that I could ask the cosplayers for pics to show my Jojo friends, and 2) I kept getting bamboozled by the JJBA fanart occasionally showing up on my dashboard. An embarrassing cycle of "Who are these beautiful and stylish lesbians??? Oh, wait, fuck, it's some guy from Jojo again. Damn it."

[tossawary]

Another Canon Divergence AU idea for "The Princess Bride" is that Westley ISN'T following Buttercup when she gets kidnapped. If he's not doing that, presumably intending on kidnapping and confronting her himself, then he really has no way of finding out about the kidnapping besides, again, spying on Humperdinck and Rugen (which is very difficult to do). And if he's not there to follow the kidnappers almost immediately, then he has no way to intervene in time.

So, Westley has been through a LOT of unpleasant shit to get back and has just found out that his true love has moved on to become engaged to their local prince. He's confused. He's really pissed off. He misses whatever opportunity allowed him to follow Buttercup on her daily ride (didn't see her ride out, didn't hear about it, whatever), because he's following another opportunity into the castle to investigate Humperdinck. Or else he sees Humperdinck and Rugen riding off towards the Pit of Despair together and decides to follow them instead. Either way, Westley overhears the two men very casually discussing Humperdinck's beautiful but forcibly gained fiancée and the kidnapping plot currently underway, and Westley realizes that Buttercup is about to DIE and he's very likely not going to be able to reach his true love in time. He still runs off, desperate and ready to die trying to save her.

And Westley is really much to late to cross the water and climb the Cliffs of Insanity and all that, because Buttercup and her kidnappers are already at the border with Guilder. It's fine though, because when Fezzik and Inigo are confronted with the murder part of the job, they object, and Fezzik ultimately decides that he's really not cool with it. Fezzik thumps Vizzini over the head while Vizzini is berating Inigo. Fezzik apologizes to Buttercup. Inigo looks at the unconscious (possibly dead, heavily concussed at least) Vizzini, shrugs, and then helps Fezzik untie Buttercup and apologizes as well.

It's more than a little awkward, because none of them really know what to do besides wander vaguely back towards Florin. Buttercup admits that she doesn't really want to marry the prince, and he'll find her if she goes back to the farm, which leads into her telling the story of her dead true love, which Inigo and Fezzik find very romantic. Which leads into Fezzik and Inigo both sharing their own tragic backstories in turn. Buttercup is personally very intrigued by Inigo's mention of being in the revenge business.

And then Buttercup goes, "Wait a moment, I know a nobleman like that. Count Rugen is Prince Humperdinck's closest friend and confidant, and he has six fingers on his right hand. I once had to sit next to them at a dinner table while they spent over an hour discussing all the troubles of finding a good glovemaker and skincare for their hands." (Rugen and his wife also once visited Buttercup and Westley's farm when they were younger, but Buttercup would more recently know Rugen from just... around the castle. Rugen is presumably going to be Humperdinck's best man.)

So, Westley is like, "Where the HELL is the love of my life???" presumably harrassing Vizzini about it if Vizzini is still alive. And Humperdinck has his theatric rescue party together to find Buttercup's body on the border, unknowingly following behind a rushing and frantic Westley, trying to keep his lies straight while he's internally like, "What the HELL happened to my kidnapping and murder plot to incite a war??? Rugen, I thought you hired the best??? It's so hard to find good help these days!"

Meanwhile, Buttercup, Fezzik, and Inigo are on a new friendship quest back to Count Rugen's house. Buttercup is the future princess, and so is presumably already acquainted with Rugen's young and beautiful wife, who has to let her in and be a good hostess. The Countess is warily like, "Buttercup... Who are these unkempt and intimidating men...?"

And Buttercup says, "Oh, they saved me from being kidnapped and killed! 😄 I'm sure that my fiancé will want to thank and reward them in person! 😄 This was the closest safe place I could think of! Thank you so much for your hospitality. By the way, when do you think your husband might be home? 😄"

[tossawary]

I keep getting stuck on the logistical timelines of "The Princess Bride" because it's so fun to think about these things. I need to reread the book properly again and will probably do that soon to pick out what few comments are made about these background operational elements of the story.

Westley somehow managed to be JUST behind Buttercup and her kidnappers, so he probably witnessed SOME part of the kidnapping, perhaps an unconscious Buttercup being loaded onto the boat, but was too late to stop it. Or perhaps Westley came across the kidnapping even earlier, but felt unable to intervene when facing at the same time both a formidable giant AND a swordsman who has an expert look to him, as well as a third fellow who is clearly the boss and the schemer and may not hesitate to draw a knife on the hostage.

Westley is both very clever but also extremely reckless when it comes to Buttercup. If he had any time to confront the kidnappers, rather than seeing them just as they sailed off, I think he would have needed to spy on them enough to at least personally ascertain that it was just a kidnapping and not an immediate murder, giving him time to follow and ambush them later. Personally, I think Westley is mad as hell (unreasonably) at Buttercup at this point in time because he (has been through hell trying to get back and) doesn't yet understand why she's apparently moved on and is marrying their dickhead prince now, but he's also still madly in love with her and I think that he would act immediately (improvising like hell) if he thought her life was in imminent danger and had any opportunity to act.

I think that Westley has to have witnessed some part of the kidnapping because there's not really any other way to find out about it, except from spying on someone like Humperdinck or Rugen, but I don't get the vibe that Westley knew then that Humperdinck was the main threat to Buttercup's life and Movie!Westley clearly meets Rugen for the first time after fighting Inigo. (I don't think Fezzik or Inigo knew who had hired Vizzini either. They're clearly surprised by the murder part of the job. I can't remember how much Vizzini knew about Humperdinck's involvement either.) I think Westley would have probably made some bitchy comment about Humperdinck being a murderer to Buttercup when they were arguing.

So, Westley was probably not far behind Buttercup when she was kidnapped, perhaps planning to kidnap her himself for a dramatic confrontation and reunion when he happened across someone ELSE kidnapping the love of his life. Inconvenient! Infuriating!

And for THAT to happen, Westley was probably in the area beforehand, trying to figure out why Buttercup had apparently left the farm. Both Westley and Buttercup's kidnappers might have BEEN THERE in the crowd when Buttercup was presented as Humperdinck's future bride (going by the general series of events as depicted by the movie, rather than the book timeline with all of its princess lessons cut for time). Which is fun and heartbreaking to think about. In the crowd, a confused and furious Westley might have accidentally brushed up against a bored and daydrinking Inigo, and neither one of them would have made anything of it then.

Anyway, it would be funny if Westley managed to kidnap Buttercup first. Vizzini is very angry about his employer hiring a second team and not telling him about it - the professional disrespect! The prize being snatched from underneath HIS highly intellectual nose! Inconceivable! Humperdinck is probably also angry because HE wanted GUILDER framed for the murder, not for Buttercup to just vanish completely. He can just lie about everything, of course, but it's sooo inconvenient. Or else Humperdinck is angry because what do you MEAN the Dread Pirate Roberts is apparently involved and the Revenge has been seen nearby? That wasn't the plan! He has PLANS! And if Vizzini tries to meet up with and talk to his displeased employer about this at all, probably a secretive meeting without too many witnesses, it may quickly get VERY messy if Inigo Montoya and Count Rugen (either with Humperdinck for backup or sent on Humperdinck's behalf perhaps) end up in the same room at any point. Fezzik, who must know his friend's backstory by now, will presumably ultimately side with Inigo in a confrontation.

(This does raise the intriguing question of who exactly hired Vizzini. If Humperdinck didn't do it himself, and he may not have because he's a prince and a busy man as a warmonger, then it may have been Rugen. Or another trusted underling, but Rugen is the only underling we really know of in on the kidnapping and murder plot here. And if it WAS Rugen, then we can headcanon that Vizzini, who must also be very familiar with the revenge quest by now, presumably noticed the six fingers and simply decided NOT to tell Inigo because he's an asshole and didn't want to lose his personal expert swordsman. And in a Canon Divergence AU, it's all blowing up in his face!)

And meanwhile Westley and Buttercup are probably heatedly making out on a scenic isolated hillside somewhere.

[tossawary]

Cang Qiong Mountain Sect and its peaks are obviously pretty famous within the world of PIDW/SVSSS. They've all got reputations. However, there is considerable bias to this, not just due to the Shen Yuan POV (or Airplane POV or so on), but also because almost all of the story has the characters operating within CQMS itself, on its business, or within the directly connected cultivation world just beyond it.

It is not really possible to get an accurate reading of what the average outsider would actually know about CQMS and its individual peaks from SVSSS. Characters like Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge and Yue Qingyuan are clearly outliers when it comes to fame, becoming the features of an extremely popular scandal and series of political incidents. By the time that Shen Yuan is talking to anyone far outside of the cultivation world, his life is some of the juiciest gossip out there.

Thinking about this because I was mulling over some dialogue phrasing. For example, I think that many people outside of CQMS might look at Head Disciple Yue Qingyuan and casually call him "the head disciple of Cang Qiong", but Yue Qingyuan himself and the other future peak lords would probably always more specifically call him "the head disciple of Qiong Ding Peak", which is more relevant within CQMS and which any CQMS disciple will understand means that YQY is also the future sect leader.

Obviously, there's the formal titles aspect of things; people will refer to each other differently within different contexts, depending on what features of that person are relevant. Most other sect cultivators will also simply know what Qiong Ding Peak is and may choose to specify that. There may also be a social balance element where the other CQMS head disciples want to emphasize their own authority and get a little miffed if YQY is too frequently framed as the sect's only real leader. Other sect cultivators may privately tell each other, "Don't just call them a cultivator from Cang Qiong, it offends those people if you don't get their special subsect right," or else, "If you want to piss off a Cang Qiong cultivator, act like their peaks don't exist and they're all part of one big sect with no inner differences, they hate that shit."

Anyway, all this made me think that there has to be some funny occasional interactions with random peasants far from the sect or junior minor sect disciples who know fuck all about the CQMS peaks, people who have to straight-up tell some Wan Jian Peak disciple: "I don't know what that is. Oh, third peak of Cang Qiong-? CANG QIONG! I know what THAT is! Why didn't you just SAY that?!"

Blood Orange Meme: "'Qing Jing Peak?' She's so pretentious. Shut up, it's fucking Cang Qiong. 'Qing Jing Peak.'"

[tossawary]

Attending various community and council meetings can be really funny in an unfunny way, because too frequently the "How do we get people to come to our events? How do we get people to visit local businesses?" problem really boils down to "Are you holding your community events and opening your businesses solely during typical work/school hours during the work week? Because a lot of people are busy then."