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keicordelle · 10 months

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The Daily Inconveniences of an Au Ra: Child Rearing

"Some day I'm going to be an adventurer just like you! Will you teach me how to fight like you do?"

Keshet looked down at the small hyuran child, the delicious flood of adrenaline slowly fading from his system now that the corrupted treants that had wished to do harm to the kid had been defeated. He had the time - he wasn't due back in Gridania for another bell at least - so he supposed it couldn't hurt to show the boy something.

"Alright," he agreed, and the boy brightened. "What sort of weapon do you use, and how far are you in your training?" If he was an archer or a healer, Keshet was screwed, but even the most skilled bowman ought to know the basics of how to wield a blade, and at the end of the day, a mage was a mage, right? If he judged the boy's age right (which, he would admit, was a skill he was only slightly more adept at than curing maladies or firing arrows, at least amongst the hornless and tailless youths), he couldn't have been more than ten years old, and therefore only recently started in on the more complex techniques of his trade. There was probably still something Keshet could show him for any vocation. "What have your parents taught you so far?" (Keshet was more proud than he had any right to be for remembering that most Eorzean children were raised by “parents” and not by the communal efforts of their tribe. The practice confused him enough to have caused some, ahem, amusing miscommunications shortly after he'd landed in the West, but he was finally getting the hang of this cultural difference, at the very least, and he preened internally at the small victory.)

"Uh... I don't know how to use any weapons. Mom and Dad won't let me learn. Dad says I'm going to be a fisherman when I grow up, like him, and that I don't need to know how to fight."

Keshet frowned down at the boy, who quailed under his gaze. "Why should a fisherman not know how to fight? Does a karakul not know how to graze simply because its trough is filled?" The child blinked uncomprehendingly up at him, and Keshet suspected he'd bungled the translation somewhere. He waved a hand. "No matter. I'll show you what I can in the time I have. Here, I have a knife that I think will fit your grip somewhere..." It was a hunting knife, suited more to carving up carcasses than creating them, but it would have to do.

The kid grinned brightly as Keshet handed him the knife and walked him through the basics of how to wield it. Between his unbridled exuberance and his utter lack of training, his motions were sloppy and slow, and even the youngest Dotharli child could have bested him in a true fight, but Keshet could hardly fault the boy for it. Clearly his parents had dropped the ball on his upbringing. Poor kid.

Or perhaps not, he discovered a half bell later, when a matronly hyur smelling vaguely of fish cakes rushed up to them. The look of relief that had smoothed her features when she spotted the boy transformed into righteous indignation as she took in his fighting stance and the blade in his hand. "Theodore! What are you doing?! Drop that knife this instant!" she demanded, grabbing him by the wrist and forcibly disarming him before he even had a chance to obey. Keshet winced as his knife clattered against the ground. "And you! Who do you think you are, teaching warfare to a child! He's just a boy!"

Somehow, Keshet didn't think responding with his first thought of 'Ma'am, when I was your son's age I had already killed a half dozen men in battle' would win him any favors, and he had the good sense to keep his mouth shut. Of course, what came out instead was hardly better. "If you had done your duty to teach him, he would have been better prepared when he was attacked. His training clearly lags behind his peers."

That was, naturally, the wrong thing to say. The woman drew herself up to her full (if unimpressive) height, jabbing a finger into Keshet's sternum. "I don't know how things work in whatever barbarous land you're from, but around here, we don't train our children for war!"

"Oh." Keshet considered this for a moment, yet another difference between his people and this foreign land. "That seems... impractical," he said mildly, frowning down at the woman.

She huffed, turning her back on him and snatching her son up by the wrist. "Come along, Theodore, it's time to go home."

Keshet watched them leave, rubbing absently at the place on his chest where the woman had poked him as he bent to retrieve his knife. I don't think I'll ever understand this realm's customs.

(He did, however, feel somewhat vindicated when he later discovered that not all Eorzeans shared the beliefs of Theodore's mother, and that some Eorzean children began learning the arts of war as young as ten years old. It still seemed late to Keshet, but he was comforted in the knowledge that not every child in the West was a helpless babe - and it inspired hope that perhaps there were more similarities between Eorzea and his homeland that he simply had yet to uncover.)

Read the rest of the series on Ao3!

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#ffxiv #au ra #wol #ffxiv fanfiction #final fantasy xiv #ff14 #my writing #daily inconveniences #drabble #keshet dotharl #~K

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rubberbandballqueen · 3 years

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“when his father dies, observe a man’s purposes; when the father dies, observe his actions. if for the three years [of mourning] a man does not change from the ways of his father, he may be called filial” (t/l james r. ware 1955) okay but like confucious my dude my bro my guy this is wisdom #11 and you’ve already acknowledged in previous wise snips that there will always be some people who are dickish troublemakers, so, like, what do you do if a man’s father was an dickish troublemaker, huh. according to you, that is an uneducated man, which is ofc undesirable.

so, like, is it better to be filial (and turn out like your father the dickish troublemaker), or unfilial (and turn yourself into an educated man who obeys his duty to his ancestors and brothers) in this case?? like bro what

#to be filial is to be good right? but then what do you do when being filial in this case is to be bad to your countrymen?#confucious SAYS that being good at caring for others is more important than being good at academics #or at least learning to obey your duties to your parents and your peers should come before book learning #*rattles this old man around* which is more important then what do you do if you have a bad father #the worm speaks

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evdolohov · 4 years

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❝ Never forget who you are for surely the world will not.❞ EVANDER DOLOHOV looks a lot like that muggle, MATTHEW DADDARIO, right? Only THIRTY years old, that DURMSTRANG alumnus works as a FREELANCE CURSE BREAKER and is sided with the NEUTRALS. HE identifies as a CISMALE and is a PUREBLOOD. [ PLOT ARC 43, PROPHECY 41, THE CYNIC ]

—— the basics. ——

full name — evander victor dolohov.

nickname — evan. ev. evie ( by his sister ).

date of birth — october 13th, 1996.

blood status — pureblood.

pronouns & gender — he/him. cis male.

orientation — heterosexual.

—— familial. ——

father — antonin dolohov.

mother — agatha dolohov.

siblings — twin sister and one older, paternal brother.

children — elliott james dolohov. 13. gryffindor.

marital status — single af.

—— education & employment. ——

former school #1 — hogwarts. years one to six.

hogwarts house — gryffindor.

former school #2 — durmstrang. years six and seven.

best subject(s) — charms, transfiguration.

worst subject(s) — history of magic ( ironically ).

functions held — keeper for the durmstrang quidditch team.

current job — freelance curse-breaker.

—— the story. ——

After the dust hat set over the ruins of the Second Wizarding War, the British Ministry of Magic set out to uncover each and every last follower of the Dark Lord and bring them to justice. Upon arriving at the old Dolohov manor they were surprised to find it lifeless, only a mess of belongings left behind to mark the existence of the previous owners. Among those fleeing for their lives was two-year-old Evander, the youngest child of Antonin Dolohov, who had absolutely no idea why he was running or from whom.

The Dolohov family reputation had suffered considerably due to their actions during both wars and they recognized the fact that they would no longer be welcomed into the British Wizarding World. They lost their status as elite along with most of their fortune and were forced into a cone of obscurity. It was a sudden and difficult change but they endured since they couldn’t really fight the Ministry’s decision. They had sided with the losers in the War after all.

The British branch of the Dolohovs spent the next two years travelling aimlessly through Europe and Russia, jumping from one acquaintance or relative to the other until they could find a place to call home again. In her husband’s absence, Agatha Dolohov worked tirelessly to restore a semblance of normality in the family. She set aside her pride and pleaded to the authorities for the pardon of her two children stating that they were innocent of any crimes she and their father had committed and they should not be declined the opportunity of attending Hogwarts and

Eventually, her pleas were heard and the family was allowed to return to English soil. The Ministry even agreed to give them back one of the five homes the Dolohovs had previously owned so they wouldn’t have to struggle too much. Agatha was still under the watchful eye of the Ministry and she was only allowed to leave the house under special circumstances. Even then she had a tracking spell placed on her. The children were not as unlucky.

Despite the Dark Lord’s defeat and her apparent capitulation to the Ministry of Magic, Agatha never stopped believing in the sanctity of blood purity and everything that came with it. Behind closed doors, she constantly reminded her children of their duties as purebloods and of how disposable they were if they failed to meet the standards. When the Dark Lord would rise again they needed to be worthy of joining his ranks so their family could once again take their place in the elites where they belonged.

Agatha made sure to never spoil her children. They were to learn their worth as purebloods and how to act according to it, but never become overbearing. Along with positive traits such as confidence, poise and charm the youngest Dolohovs were taught about bitterness, cruelty and, most important, vengeance. The violence in their small house by the lake was kept a secret from everyone, even from other purist families. No need to wash dirty laundry in public, their mother said.

Ever since he was very little Evan has been the odd one out. He always questioned authority, disobeyed his mother, associated with people he had no business being around and, most importantly, questioned the purist way of life. Needless to say, his behaviour got him punished more times than any child should be, leaving some very deep physical and emotional scars. But it never managed to fully crush Evan’s spirit.

Agatha hoped that the boy’s attitude would adjust itself as he grew and became more aware of the world surrounding him but her hopes were all in vain. The differences between Evan and his family became more and more apparent with every passing year and his disdain for their way of life grew stronger and stronger. The only person in the house to escape his hatred was his twin sister.

Evan was the only one of the Dolohov children to not be sorted into Slytherin. Instead, the Sorting Hat decided his place was in the house of lions. Needless to say, the news came as a huge shock and disappointment to his mother who believed she had failed as a parent. His supposed failure was not left unpunished when he returned home for Christmas break that year.

Students at Hogwarts were still wary of the Dolohovs and often avoided interacting with them unless it was absolutely necessary. This was rather difficult for little Evan who had never had many people to call friends and was very eager to make some in school. He tried, to the best of his abilities, to prove he was nothing like his father and other students had no reason to fear or hate him. Whoever wanted to take the time to get to know him was more than welcome.

During his Hogwarts education, Evan tried to restore at least a shred of dignity to the name Dolohov. Instead of cowering in the shadows, ashamed of his background, the young wizard worked harder than his peers to prove he was more than just the son of a dark witch and a murderer. Even though he hasn’t always kept his head held high when walking down the school corridors, Evan tried his best not to pay any attention to idle gossip or hurtful comments directed at him.

Most of the time, Evan ended up in the company of other children coming from families of former Death Eaters. It wasn’t out of loyalty to some dead cause or nostalgia, or the need to be approved by his mother, they just understood what it meant to pay for someone else’s mistake and be looked at with suspicion just because of something your parents or grandparents were a part of.

Sometime during his fifth year of school, Evan was accused of a very heinous crime. Allegedly, someone had seen him cast an unforgivable curse on a muggle student and later on that student ended up dead. Evan denied the accusations and tried to defend himself but the damage had already been done. Everyone had painted him a murderer and they were demanding he be punished for his actions. Lacking enough evidence to have him sent to Azkaban, the Ministry committee assigned to the case advised for his expulsion instead. Headmistress McGonagall had no choice but to obey the order.

Despite how hard he tried Evan never really felt like he fit in at Hogwarts, not with all the weight that hung on his last name and all the wrongfully placed hatred that he had been getting even before the unfortunate incident. So he considers getting expelled as probably one of the best things that had ever happened to him, even with the reason attached to it.

Even though she publicly scolded her son for the accusations, Agatha was proud of the fact that her son had supposedly come to her senses and understood that muggles were not something a respectable wizard should associate himself with. Hard as he tried, Evan couldn’t convince her that he wasn’t responsible for the crime.

It was one of Evan’s maternal uncles who called in a favour at Durmstang so that his nephew could have a place to finish his studies. Even though nothing really qualified the former Gryffindor to attend the Institute, he was accepted and was shipped off to the Scandinavian school immediately after Christmas break. The rest of his siblings remained in England. Evan was allowed to return home for the summer breaks but he would be placed under supervision by the Ministry.

The young wizard thrived during his years at Durmstrang. He wasn’t the most sociable of creatures but he did manage to make some friends with whom he spent most of his time. A good number of those friends had some kind of connection to Death Eaters: either their families had been members of the organization and were now in the same position as the Dolohovs or they had been sympathizers of the cause. The best part was that at his new school nobody judged him for what his family had done during the wars, not openly at least.

At Durmstrang Evan finally had the courage to try out for a position on the Quidditch team. He was accepted as Chaser and maintained the position until the end of his stay at the Institute.

The summer after his sixth year was the time when Evan was finally disowned by his mother. He met a muggle girl and the two were immediately drawn to one another. Evan jumped into a relationship without much regard for the consequences. At first, he tried to keep it a secret, mostly to avoid any unwanted nagging from his mother, but very quickly he stopped caring and openly admitted the relationship to his family. What he never mentioned to anyone was that he had told her about the magical world.

In an attempt to try and persuade her son to give up such foolish behaviour, Agatha sent in Evan’s twin sister. When she came back unsuccessful, Madam Dolohov was enraged, to say the least. For days she filled her son’s head with threats and insults in the hope that he would get discouraged and abandon the muggle. Her words fell on deaf ears.

The day he was set to leave for Durmstrang Evan received two pieces of news that would change his life. The first was that enraged, his mother had decided to disown him. He was cut off from what little money she sent him every month and was no longer allowed to contact any of his siblings, especially his sister. He had to take all his belonging with him when he left for school and never set foot into the house again. The second was that his girlfriend had become pregnant.

Being disowned wasn’t much of a shock, he half expected that to happen, judging by how furious his mother had been. But the second piece of news left him speechless. The pair decided that they would keep in contact as often as possible and they would sort things once he returned from school the next summer. Luckily Amelia’s parents were more understanding than his.

Little did Evan know that September 1st would be the last day he actually saw his girlfriend. Amelia died due to complications at birth. The news was absolutely devastating. What’s worse is that her parents were no longer willing to honour the deal they had made and they were not willing to let Evan see his son either. His sister somehow managed to sneak him a picture, something he was very grateful for. She also promised to look after little Elliott as well, make sure no harm came to him from their mother.

After graduation, Evan had absolutely no idea what he was going to do with his life. Since he was no longer a student at Durmstrang the school had no obligation to host him over the summer. Evan suddenly found himself all alone in a foreign country, no roof over his head and nobody to turn to for help. Whatever great plans he had made when he was younger all seemed like distant, unachievable dreams.

He spent some time sleeping on the couches of the few friends he had managed to make while at Durmstrang but he knew it wasn’t going to be a permanent solution. He also needed to get back to England, back to his kid. The first step towards achieving this goal would be to earn some much-needed money. One of his friends’ father managed to get him a part-time job at the metal charming facility where he worked, nothing fancy but it got him enough money for a trip back to England.

At age eighteen Evan was living and working at the Hog’s Head Inn in Hogsmeade. In his free time, he kept an eye on his sister and checked in on his son who lived in Scotland with his grandparents. Even from that young age, it was clear that Elliott had inherited magical abilities from his father. It was only a matter of time until they manifested. Evan waited rather impatiently for that day to come.

While making a deposit at Gringotts, the former Gryffindor’s attention was caught by a recruitment pamphlet for Curse-Breakers. Since he met most of the requirements and was in desperate need for a job, Evan decided that it was worth giving it a shot. Within a few days of applying his presence was requested at the Ministry of Magic to discuss further training for the position.

Evan went in with as much confidence and determination as he could muster. He wasn’t there to make friends, he was there to learn and become the best. The training was every bit as rough as he had expected and there were days when he got back to the Inn exhausted, bruised and with his will almost broken. But the following day he was back at it, even more driven. Once training came to an end the male was selected to become a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts. On occasions, he also collaborates with the Ministry, when they are in need of someone with his skill set.

Three years after his return to England he was contacted by his former girlfriend’s parents. They were complaining about strange behaviour with Elliott and they had decided they could no longer take care of him as he had become dangerous. Evan knew there was nothing really dangerous about the five-year-old, he just needed someone to teach him how to control his magic. So he happily agreed to take custody of the boy.

Now he’s a part-time Curse-Breaker and a full-time dad. He’s also got some help with childcare from a great aunt who was also disowned by the family for taking a muggle’s side in an argument.

Evan currently resides in muggle London with Elliott, who is in his third year at Hogwarts, and his great aunt. They all live in a small apartment and it gets kind of stuffy and insane sometimes but he loves it either way. Evan is trying his best to keep his son as far away from the upcoming war as possible. He’s advised Eli against joining any kind of organizations at school, no matter how much pressure he feels from his peers.

Even though the Hogwarts case against him has been set aside due to lack of evidence, Evan still feels the weight of those false accusations even to this day. While some people believe his side of the story and consider him innocent, there are others who want his head on a platter even after all these years.

—— plot arc. ——

Hard as he’s trying to remain neutral in the upcoming war, for Elliott’s sake, Evan realized he can’t remain that way forever. His sister has joined the Wraiths, either by her own decision or pressure from their mother, he doesn’t know, and it looks like she is in over her head. Now feels like he’s got a duty to both his sister and his son to keep them alive no matter what comes their way.

Being neutral isn’t of much help, especially since he’s done all that he could to not be involved in the affairs of either good or bad and he has no contacts on either side. If he is to be of any use he needs to be as informed as possible and as ready as possible. To make sure he can achieve that it seems like he needs to finally choose a faction to put his faith in. The logical choice would be the Order but there’s no guaranty they will spare his sister if it comes to it. And neither will the Wraiths if the war turns sour and they win.

#rev intros #here's my garbage papa bear #abt

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the-under-archon · 5 years

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.:Pinnacle:. (AU2)

Characters: Torioi Mitsue (cultivator, AU...Mitsue), Koremune Satoru (cultivator, AU Sohza’a), Torioi Hideo & Kiyo (clan heads, AU variants), Torioi Shinya (AU Sari)

Warning(s): Vague sexy times, some violence.

Origin Date: 19 April 2019

The cultivators of Katsuragi Peak were the examples of what discipline should be in an ever-changing world. Steadfast as the mountain they called home, unrelenting as ice in the face of their morals. The heir to this bloodline finds himself tested sorely in the face of a visiting disciple. And it would be his downfall.

(Part of the AU2 arc with @ninetales-carbuncle which was inspired by Mo Dao Zu Shi concepts and practices. Which I admit I borrowed a lot from Gusu Lan Sect.)

----♦•♦----

Mitsue wasn’t quite sure when he started watching the Koremune heir. It was the usual turn of the year that saw the Katsuragi Peak open for trainees of other clans. Summer on the high mountain still held a bit of a chill but it was negligible, especially to those that spend their entire lives in the seclusion the blessed grounds bestowed upon them.

This day he’d been oddly free of his duties, assigned to attend the latest class of cultivators as a senior disciple. It also helped for the future heir to observe and learn the methods and mannerisms of the minor sects that made up Japan’s cultivation base. All were aware that the old ways were slowly dying in this modern world. People were so caught up in their cell phones, televisions, fashion, love affairs…they had no cares, or even awareness, of the things that lurked about them.

Thus education was even more important than it had ever been in history, or so the Katsuragi held firmly to that belief. Being one of the eldest sects with one of the oldest bloodlines that rivaled the Akiyama and the Hanahara, it wasn’t uncommon to foster students just as the others did. Each clan had their specialties and particular disciplines.

Here, there was no leniency. A strict code of conduct, a need for respect and decorum, and obedience to your seniors and the old ways reined atop this peak. Already Mitsue could tell /that/ man would have a difficult time with them. Most of the students chattered away as they strolled about the stone paths that curled about the varying layers of elevation that made up this place. They were new, they’d learn.

So many colors from so many clans. It was nearly blinding. The Katsuragi wore white and grey as befitting their worship of the snow, ice, wind, and water. It was a constant devotion to the power of this mountain and its sisters. When the turn of the seasons came and the pilgrimages began, it was more like spring than summer with all the colors.

Oddly enough, the loudest of the group wore dark green and brown. Rather muted but strong colors. He was a magnetic personality among his peers in the same garb. A good leader he would be having the hearts of his clan already. But would he have the discipline and patience needed to head a family in a world where such things were rapidly dissolving?

Mitsue frowned, his arms in the long sleeves of his pure white robes. Pale of flesh, hair as white as snow, eyes grey as mountain stone, he was the epitome of the Torioi bloodline and perfectly bred. With a sharp intelligence and steadfast devotion he’d taken well to the cultivation arts and would be the quintessential example of a firstborn son.

But of all the visitors, Koremune Satoru kept his attention.

----♦•♦----

Mitsue may have been a stubborn and unmovable force of discipline and study, but he wasn’t naïve. He noticed how his gaze lingered on Satoru’s hands as he wrote, how the scent of pine trees seemed to follow the energetic man, how his dark hair shone under the sun when he spun on his foot to harass one of his friends.

There was affection there. And what did Mitsue do? Stomp it down. Relationships were forbidden as a disciple within the Katsuragi. The focus should be study, not romance. Devotion, not intimacy. Once he was recognized as fully-fledged cultivator perhaps one day he would be able to wear his hair down from its hightail, the sign that he was bound to another.

But not now as a teenager in the throes of study. And that irritated him. So much so that whenever he heard that chirp of his voice, his grip tightened enough about his inkbrush that it snapped. There was a small pile of poor broken things accumulating on his desk much to the concern of the instructor. Likely that would be reported to his parents later.

----♦•♦----

“Torioi-san, eh?”

Mitsue blinked and looked up from his book. He’d taken to reading outside this afternoon, the sun high and warm and the blossoms of summer in full decadence. Fingers tightened about the spine of the old text. He should correct the lack of proper address to an heir in his home but that didn’t fly to his tongue as it normally would. “Yes? Koremune-san, correct?” Of course he knew who this was, fortunately his neutral expression didn’t give away that small wiggle of panic.

Satoru just grinned and plopped down, looking over the pages of Mitsue’s book. The close presence made the Torioi tense further. That scent of deep forests, evergreens, it filled his senses. It would be easy to lower his head, to take that scent in close in that dark hair.

“Oh, that’s the homework that’s not due for a month, right? And you’re doing it already?” A curious tilt of his head, an almost cat-like motion.

He resisted nibbling his lip in his nerves. A habit his mother had pointed out…and made a point to correct him on every time he was caught in the motion. “Yes.” A simple answer, he could do this. But on a passing thought, he raised an eyebrow. “How do you know the readings so far in advance?”

“Oh, I did it already.” That bright grin again and Mitsue watched as the other disciple pulled away to flop on the grass, arms behind his head. There he lay to bask like some feline in the sun. “What did you think about the concepts of application to the wrathful spirit in the Mo HaoChen example? Seems like they did it all wrong, don’t you think?”

A surprised blink. Did…this lackadaisical goof already get that far? Truly? Or was this some bluff? The book rested on his lap. “They followed the proper order. They couldn’t predict that a demonic cultivator had been the orchestrator of events in that village. It was approached as a singular event, not as the spark that would set the region in the middle of a five year-long battle of sects.”

“Ha, so you can say more than five words!” One of those violet eyes peeked open, a grin on those lips. “We were taking bets. Honestly I thought you were mute at first until Taira-sensei called on you. Even heirs aren’t exempt from answering questions in class, huh? Didn’t expect that here.”

There was an inkling of irritation as he looked down to that amused expression. Did they all think he was privileged because of his future position? That he would be exempt from the same examinations and rigors that everyone else was? No. If anything they were harsher! He opened his mouth to retort before a finger was held up in his face.

“And you get angry! You sit back there like some statue all of the time. Though I know you get pissed off. Your right eye twitches a bit when you think someone’s doing something stupid. Look, it’s doing it right now!” Satoru cackled.

With a ‘hmph’ Mitsue closed his book and went to stand much to the puzzled expression of the other teenager. “You’re annoying,” he mumbled before walking off.

The victorious laughter that followed his departure down the path did indeed make that eye twitch.

----♦•♦----

It was against the rules.

It would be easy to place all the blame on Satoru but as Mitsue enjoyed the sounds the smaller man made beneath him…well, it was hard to say he /wasn’t/ involved. Their trysts were quiet, secret, and secluded. Fortunately growing up on this mountain gave knowledge of many places to hide. It was against all of the discipline that the Torioi had obeyed all his life but yet he’d given in to temptation. It didn’t help that the other was /always/ around, always at his side, always trying to poke him. But time revealed that Satoru was /incredibly/ intelligent despite his personality.

In fact it had been an evening study session in the library that had led to Mitsue finally giving in and landing a chaste kiss on that olive-toned cheek. Mortified by his own actions, it had been assuaged when he’d received that surprised look, a grin, and a reciprocation on the lips. It had taken time to progress to something more physical but continued study sessions had evolved to…well study of a different kind for the two teenagers.

The first time Mitsue had returned to his room mortified, as if his mother’s fury would come crashing down and he would be made to do handstands on their family pond that never melted from freezing ice. His current record was two days and he didn’t want to extend that. Kami help him, it would be at least a /month/ if he’d been found out. Punishment never came as the secret remained just that…secret. Fear was replaced with a warmth in his chest that Mitsue wasn’t used to.

He was aware of what love was, the sect wasn’t /that/ harsh. And he loved his parents with all he had. He loved this place. And one day he would marry and love whoever was chosen for him. But this was different. It sent his heart racing whenever he sat near Satoru in class. It made him ache as they had to pretend to just be two disciples in study in that large classroom full of so many differently colored robes. And it made him lose all control when they were finally alone and those violet eyes danced in mirth and want when Satoru reached for his hand.

But the year was almost at a close. The snow was melting, spring in full bloom. Summer would be upon the Peak soon. Grey eyes almost glared at the flowers dancing in the wind outside until a hand on his side pulled him from his musing. They’d taken to one of the caves hidden near the main river that wound down the mountain where little foot traffic passed.

“You’re going to set that poor tree alight if you keep looking at it like that,” the dark-haired man purred.

With a sigh, Mitsue lay down again. The two lay bare on a blanket, curled against each other. The chill didn’t bother the Torioi but Satoru had never really learned to love the cold of the mountain. He had a tendency to burrow as closely into the taller broader man as he could. The Koremune son was of slight build, made for agility, for sneaking into places he shouldn’t be. Meanwhile his lover was growing into a broad frame, a body trained from the strict discipline of his sect. They were opposites in every way, perhaps it’s why they’d ended up like this.

“Summer’s here,” Mitsue muttered, an arm under his head as he lay on his side to allow his lover to soak up his body heat again.

Which Satoru gladly did, pressed firmly against that pale skin. “Not yet. We have a month. And we have to make it worth it.” A small sigh. Jovial he may seem, a sense of duty did hang over him. “Otou-san says the fighting’s getting worse back home. Something has the undead stirred up. Add that to the damned Ninmyo poking about. You know I’ll have to head back right away.”

Mitsue elected not to answer in the moment. The struggle of smaller clans was something he knew of but would likely never experience. As the cultivation world grew smaller and smaller and inherent talent dwindled, skirmishes weren’t uncommon between the minor clans to swell their numbers. Usually it was attempted politically at first through marriages and alliances. But the Koremune and Ninmyo had never gotten along with their close proximity. It wouldn’t be surprising if they were purposely luring undead towards the other village.

“You could stay here,” he finally mumbled. Even as the words left his lips, Mitsue knew they were fruitless.

As if Satoru could sense that, he didn’t tease. Just a small chuckle, warm breath against the body he was almost desperately burrowed against.

It wouldn’t be that easy. And they both knew it.

----♦•♦----

The cold had never bothered Mitsue. But there was some chill in the air that got to him nowadays in the wake of the summer’s students leaving. They were still disciples but much more learned than they’d arrived. He could still remember that day they left. Knowing that he’d likely be unable to keep that neutral expression in place, the Torioi had watched the class depart from a high ledge. He hoped Satoru wouldn’t mind. Likely not...he was a smart man and would know exactly why that white-clad figure wasn’t in the group at the end of that last day.

It had been five years since then. Correspondence had been regular, intimate words hidden between pages of official reporting and boring dribble. Things were constant and unchanging atop Katsuragi Peak. It wasn’t so below the mountain’s shadow. The letters that would arrive once a week dwindled to two weeks. Then a month. And now it had been half a year since Mitsue had seen the familiar sloppy scrawl of his lover. The Koremune clan was a week away by flying sword, a few weeks by boat down the river.

So why had things stopped? Mitsue found himself clinging to news during the daily meals with his parents who were much more engaged in the going-ons of the other cultivation bases. They traveled frequently as representatives and still participated in night hunts. How he found out disaster had come was from eavesdropping on some of the newest disciples.

Angry spirits had multiplied significantly in Koremune territory, finally overwhelming the clan. It was as if some power had come into the Ninmyo’s hands to turn the years of deadlock. Mitsue was gone into the night he’d heard the news.

What an influence Satoru had been on the ‘good heir.’ First those summer days and now stealing away from his home the farthest he’d ever been on a rumor. Rennai was swift beneath his feet, the silvery blade his constant companion over the years. The dark landscape flew by. Places he’d never seen and still didn’t spare a glance to. All that mattered was getting to that village. All his focus put into the sword to urge it as fast he could. A week was nothing, he wouldn’t pause

----♦•♦----

The Koremune territory was a farming community at heart to adjust to the changing times. Nestled in hills, rice paddies had been perfectly tiered and tediously tended to under the protective gaze of the head family. That was all gone now. The terraces had been torn apart, water lay murky black, and the bodies lay about everywhere.

Mitsue looked down at the carnage, gasping for breath. He’d flew for as long as his body would let him, only resting in brief stops. What had he expected here...? Something better than this? What a fool he’d been. He leaned heavily on Rennai, the sword’s sheath resting as a support on the ground. The pristine appearance of the Torioi heir was haphazard, hair fallen from his hightail, robes uneven, and dirt on his face.

There was no movement below in the growing evening that overshadowed the village. What had been done here had been done days ago, a week ago, maybe more. There were no embers or cinders, no last pockets of resistance. It was all still, ash and debris and bodies and death. The aura of resentful energy could still be felt and the studious eye of Mitsue, even in his grief, could tell some of those many bodies had at one time risen in attack.

The Ninmyo had a demonic cultivator. Or more than one with the number of corpses about. Had they been so desperate to turn to that foul forbidden practice? Had it been truly worth it to fall so far from the righteous path to gain control of a neighbor in a world where all of their bonds were so frail already?

What sense did this make? /None./

There were tears on his face that he wasn’t aware had even fallen leaving marks on the dust that marred his pale skin. Hands shook on Rennai and it was difficult to breathe.

He had to find Satoru. Somehow. If he...if he’d fallen among this mess, Mitsue would make sure his soul would find rest. Maybe he could even lay to rest this entire battlefield. It was all he could do.

----♦•♦----

They’d lingered.

Filthy plunderers, greedy men that looted the small amount of magical artifacts that the Koremune had. The clan wasn’t a hugely rich one but it was comfortable enough to survive to the modern age, supplemented with its agricultural base.

How could those damn Ninmyo /justify/ rooting about the dead, taking anything of value, not even just cultivator tools?! Jewelry, clothes, heirlooms. Mitsue didn’t even know he was moving. He wasn’t even aware of Rennai’s pure blade drawing human blood, easily parting flesh of a screaming man. A blade that had been blessed to exorcise evil now turned on mortal life.

Mitsue didn’t care. These men were evil. How could the desecrate a place like this? HOW COULD THEY BE SO GREEDY AND FOUL?! He was well-trained and strong. His movements were quicker than any normal human, the white of his robes bright in the gloom. There was no chance for retaliation. Some didn’t even get a chance to scream, to draw their own weapon in self-defense.

He cut then down.

Every.

Single.

One.

And he wasn’t even breathless from the effort as he stood in the square of the destroyed village. His grip was tight on Rennai, the jade-enlaid hilt slick with blood. Human blood. Some part of him could feel the blade’s distaste, flickering internally of its fraying bond with its cultivator. It was screaming for him to stop. But he didn’t.

Those grey eyes were like ice as he spotted movement. More looters. And so he attacked again, a herald of destruction come from its mountain to lay these corrupt souls to rest.

When all stilled, he turned west. The village of the Ninmyo clan was that way. Also agricultural, his well-trained mind recalled the facts.

Rennai wouldn’t rise to his call to carry him there. Fine, he’d walk. Nothing would stop him from cleansing this FILTH that took his loved one away.

----♦•♦----

So many fell by his sword that his arm began to fail from even his expert and effortless strikes. First it was just their cultivators. But he didn’t stop there. He was numb.

Even the enchantments of those Katsuragi robes had begun to fail, the cloth’s pristine glow stained with red at its edges, random splatter darkening the grey of its lining. The cries of his victims, innocent ones but he didn’t care, didn’t still his hand.

He was tired. Were they all gone now? Rennai was dead in his hand, just a piece of metal. It had sealed itself off from the corruption of its master to protect itself. Fine. All he needed was an edge.

A grip to his arm and he shook it off, the dripping blade raised to retaliate. But the hold returned, strong. Another gifted.

“Mitsue! STOP!”

Eyes focused to see the brilliant white before him. White cloth, loose snowy hair, pale skin, wide afraid blue eyes. One of the few men taller than him. And everything just came crashing down. There should be a fear of retribution. Of what he’d done. But the ever-dutiful son couldn’t cling to that. Instead fingers clenched into his father’s robes just so he could stay on his feet. Words struggled to leave; apologies, demands, curses. But they couldn’t escape his lips.

Torioi Hideo’s hand traveled down Mitsue’s sword arm, long fingers threading through the other’s to make him loosen his hold on that sealed blade. It fell to the dirt with a hollow sound. Arms hugged the blood-covered figure close, his other hand resting on the back of his son’s head. As if hiding his face could make this all go away.

The clan leader looked to the mess. The sorrow, the blood. Were there any survivors? Kami help them. The repercussions of this would be... Fingers tightened in the crimson-tinged strands of the crying man.

Where Lady Torioi Kiyo was a cold fire that burned fiercely, Hideo was the soothing water that flowed dutifully along its path without pause. Both were steadfast and traditional despite their duality and were a perfect union because of such things.

“Let’s go home, Mitsue. You need rest.” An understatement to what would happen. But for now, this was needed. The aftermath would come swiftly enough. And it would be fierce.

There was no fight from the young man, he had nothing left to give, nothing left to fight.

----♦•♦----

There had been no survivors reported from the Katsuragi that surveyed the area in the days past. They hadn’t been told of how the massacre occurred, just told to reconnoiter the area. However the trained eyes could tell something had happened that wasn’t the cause of restless or vengeful spirits. The disciplined cultivators laid the spirits to rest the best they could without protest and then departed, leaving no sign to what had exterminated an entire minor clan.

Rumors floated among the younger disciples unfortunately. It couldn’t be helped. They were human, they were from the more modern world where gossip was common and quick to spread. It didn’t help that Torioi Mitsue suddenly disappeared from the public eye.

Five years of seclusion. It had been an order but he’d taken it without protest. That along with fifty lashes by his father’s hand and all the privileges of his station temporarily suspended. Rennai had been taken to be purified. The blade was a remnant of the ancient Chinese cultivation sects, it was too precious to be discarded. Hopefully it could be awakened again.

The man that had emerged from seclusion was soulless, wandering about the family household as if a ghost. Then he’d met Shinya. The boy had been taken in during his years of seclusion. Still in his single digits, the dark-haired child clung to Kiyo as if she were his birth mother. And that fearsome warrior of a woman treated him as she did her own flesh and blood, gentle but firm, loving but guiding. Watching such a thing finally brought a bit of life back to the eldest son.

Shinya was so small, so skittish. Peering up at Mitsue’s tall form with that one bright blue gaze, half his face hidden under a medicated cloth. He’d been told that the child had been found in the Ghost Markets to be picked apart for his spiritual energy, bit by bit. The eyes were an amazing reservoir of spiritual energy and one had been plucked out already by some evil being. Fortunately Kiyo had found him before anything else could happen.

This he would protect. His sins couldn’t be erased even if his parents had done their best to keep the rumors in control. He’d always know what he’d done. But when Mitsue walked about the Peak with the young boy in his arms, he could forget for a bit.

This boy with hair as dark as ink, just like another man he knew with laughing violet eyes.

This he would protect.

#short story #au #au2 #ok not so short a story #this got out of hand

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buyherepayhereusa · 7 years

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Teenager Driving Tips for National Teen Driver Safety Week

Teenagers can’t wait to get their driver’s license. For teens, driving is new, fun, and liberating—a near-obligatory rite of passage. And parents will enjoy the extra time away from personal chauffeur duties, even if they dislike the higher insurance premiums.

Unfortunately, teens and cars are a dangerous combination. Car crashes are still the leading cause of teen deaths.

In honor of National Teen Driver Safety Week, established by Congress in 2007, we are sharing some important information on the teen driving problem and what you can do about it.

The Teen Driver Problem

Car crashes are the #1 cause of death among teens. In 2015, 2,715 teenagers died in the U.S. from crash injuries. An additional 221,313 teenagers were treated in emergency departments in 2014.

The crash rate for teen drivers is 3-4x the crash rate for adults. This discrepancy increases at night and when other teens are in the vehicle.

The crash rate is worst during the first few months of licensure. The risk is highest at age 16.

Source: Insurance Institute for Highway Safety

Furthermore, research shows that the presence of passengers increases the crash risk among teenage drivers but decreases the risk among drivers 30 years and older. One study showed that the presence of peers increased risk taking among adolescents (but not adults) in a simulated driving game. Adolescent decision making is directly influenced by the mere presence of peers as shown in numerous studies of reckless driving, substance abuse, crime, and more.

In addition to being more susceptible to peer pressure than adults, young drivers also have the tendency to overestimate their own driving abilities. Peer pressure combined with poor risk assessment and inexperience makes it difficult for teenagers to drive safely.

Unfortunately, telling teenagers about the risks of the road (“scaring them straight”) may not have an impact. Research has shown that feedback about bad news makes little to no impact on teenagers’ estimates of risk assessment. While adults will alter their estimates of some event occurring based on new information, adolescents have been shown to update their estimates if there is good news, but bad news doesn’t make much of an impact.

As summarized by Robert Sapolsky in his new book, Behave (p. 161):

Researcher: “How likely are you to have a car accident if you’re driving while drunk?” Adolescent: “One chance in a gazillion.”

Researcher: “Actually, the risk is about 50 percent; what do you think your own chances are now?”

Adolescent: “Hey, we’re talking about me; one chance in a gazillion.”

Compared to adults, teenagers are at higher risk of violence, substance abuse, crime, unsafe sex, poor health habits, and automobile crashes and fatalities. These risky behaviors are the greatest threat to teenagers in industrialized societies.

For reasons that have a lot to do with neurobiology and environment, teenagers take a lot more risks and are bad at risk assessment.

What is being done about risky teenage driving?

Teenagers—the odds are against them. Luckily, some changes have been made to help reduce the risk of automobile accidents, such as graduated licensing programs.

These programs have greatly reduced the number of teenage driver crash involvements. While graduated licensing programs vary in strength from state to state, most jurisdictions have some combination of the following restrictions on young drivers:

Supervised learner’s period

Learner’s permits and intermediate licenses

Limitations on high-risk driving (nighttime driving or with teen passengers)

Higher age limits

In most states, the minimum age for getting a driver’s age is 16, although it can be as low as 14 years or as high as 17 years. In Tennessee and Georgia, the minimum age is 16, with restrictions on nighttime driving and passengers. View the graduated licensing requirements and restrictions for every state.

Graduated driving programs have been proven to quite effective, especially strong nighttime driving and teenage passenger restrictions. In addition to better graduated licensing programs, what can be done to reduce the number of teenage automobile accidents and fatalities?

Ways to Increase Teen Driver Safety

Regardless of state law, it’s a good idea to follow these best practices:

Wait until your teen is 17 years old to get a license (risk is highest at age 16).

Enforce all graduated driver licensing (GDL) laws and set stricter standards, such as at least 70 hours of supervised practice driving with an experienced adult driver.

During first 12 months of driving, enforce nighttime driving restrictions starting at 8 p.m. and a ban on all non-adult passengers.

Consider in-vehicle monitoring devices which can give feedback parents on speeding, seatbelt use, and more.

Be a good role model (no phone use, no speeding, etc.) and ride with them frequently.

Teach your teen driver to stay at least 2 seconds (3-4 seconds in unsafe conditions) behind the vehicle in front. Mark a fixed point on the road, and after the car ahead passes it, it should take you at least 2 seconds to reach that same point.

Obey traffic signs, wear your seatbelt, eyes on the road, and hands on the wheel. All the time.

Use safer cars (electronic stability control, key safety features, and bigger, heavier, and newer vehicles).

Even though every state has a minimum alcohol purchasing age of 21, teach your teenage drivers the importance of never getting into a car with a driver who has had even one drink. It is illegal to drink under the age of 21, so the BAC level should always be .00.

Texting, calling, and other phone-related distractions present the greatest increase in crash risk for teen drivers.

Ensure your teen driver(s) get the proper sleep they need to drive safely.

Set written guidelines for your teenage driver and make them sign it. No alcohol, no passengers, no nighttime driving, no speeding, no phone use, and always buckle up. There should be clear penalties for each violation of the terms. There should also be clear rewards, such as a 6-month incident-free period. For every 6-months of safe driving, you may want to increase some driving privileges. Make sure you discuss and enforce the consequences of noncompliance.

Be a good example!

Teens learn how to drive from their parents. They will quickly learn to ignore the rules if you ignore them yourself. In today’s world, the most important rule you should always follow, especially in front of your kids is to never use your phone while in transit.

Never use your phone while driving! Pull over if you need to text, call, use social media, or interact with your phone in any way, such as typing in new directions, make sure you pull over or come to a complete stop first.

Ironically, studies have shown that driver education programs may not be effective, at least in the short term. Studies have shown that advanced driver training may actually increase the risk of automobile accidents, especially among young males. Driver education programs may lead to overconfidence and the taking of unnecessary risks.

What are the safest vehicles for teenagers?

Understandably, teenagers tend to drive older-model vehicles that are already in the family. A study by the Institute of Highway Safety found that 43% of teenagers surveyed were driving vehicles that were purchased when they began driving and that 83% of the vehicles that were purchased were used.

While it makes sense not to spend a small fortune on your first car, it also makes sense to choose the safest vehicle in your budget. A separate Institute study showed that the risk of collisions and fatalities increases when teenagers are driving sports cars or small vehicles.

In order to choose the safest vehicle for your teenager(s), keep in mind the following purchasing guidelines:

Stay away from sports cars and high-horsepower vehicles, which encourages teens to speed and show off in the presence of peers.

Choose bigger, heavier vehicles with more safety features. No small cars or minicars are recommended for teenage drivers.

Look for seatbelt reminder systems for every seat in the car.

Electronic stability control (ESC), also known as electronic stability program (ESP) or dynamic stability control (DSC) is an absolute must for detecting and reducing skidding and the loss of traction.

Look up crash test, rollover assistance, and other car safety ratings on Consumer Reports and other resources to choose the best safety ratings that you can.

Make sure the vehicle has working airbags. Look for head-protecting side airbags.

Search NHTSA’s 5-Star Safety Ratings to make sure your vehicle has a minimum 4-star rating.

If you can afford a newer model car, look for forward-collision warning (FCW), automatic emergency braking (AEB), blind-spot warning (BSW), and rearview cameras.

Visit CDC.gov for more information on teen driving statistics, risk factors, and prevention.

Take the time during National Teen Driver Safety Week to decrease the chances of your teen turning into a statistic. In addition to being a good example behind the wheel, write up a contract with rewards and punishments. You have a lot more influence than you think.