#I'll never understand people thinking they have to look a certain way in order to be part of a music-based subculture

[sorrowandpride]

Anybody who's like "I'm gonna do x so I can fit in with y subculture 🥺" is a coward and a poser uwu

[joejhang]

fanon neil vs canon neil

god i am so FUCKING done with the aftg fandom mischaracterising neil i'm literally writing fucking ESSAYS about it and pacing circles muttering about it under my breath it's driving me up the goddamn wall so i am going to word vomit brain dump yap about all of it in an incoherent tumblr text post. spoilers ahead continue at ur own risk

i've said it before and i'll say it again I HATE FANON NEIL. istg this fandom LOVES to mischaracterise neil and ykw i think i know why. they take the smallest most unnoticeable parts of his personality and then exaggerate them to disproportionate and unrealistic levels in order for him to fit their idea of a conventional, stereotypical and desirable main character. they smooth out his jagged edges and prick at his "insecurities" to make him more likeable, more acceptable and more conventional of a narrator/main character and in doing so erase so fucking much of his personality and draw as a character that he loses just about all of the flavour that made me love him in canon. and also especially within the andreil dynamic this fucking fandom just loves to tweak neil's character until he's basically unrecognisable just so they can cram andreil into some preconceived socially acceptable clichéd ship dynamic. because andrew is perceived as the typical mysterious, moody and grumpy love interest therefore neil just has to be the sunshiney smiley blushing cute softboy in exchange. yeah because all gay ships have to be grumpy-sunshine and black cat-golden retriever dynamic. i raise you: andreil's dynamic doesn't work because of their differences it works because of their similarities. if u think about it andrew and neil are honestly very similar people in the way they think and process emotions and events and that's what allows them to connect and understand each other. andreil would not work if neil was super sunshiney and a blushy soft mess and andrew was the stoic, never smiling, unemotional stone of a guy the fandom loves to make them. just accept they do not fit into the conventional boxes laid out by booktok for what gay ships look like. i fucking digress.

neil is also just insanely mischaracterised on his own. people love making him very jittery and insanely oblivious and easily flustered with a generous serving of self-esteem issues. i hate to break it to you guys: neil josten is not insecure. i don't think there's a single instant in the series where neil is actually insecure about anything. as a narrator, person and character, neil is very realistic, pragmatic and logical. ruthlessly so. i'd say on this, neil is even more cerebral and unemotional than andrew is. neil is very straightforward and realistic abt himself in his narration and i'd honestly say his opinion and views about himself are one of the only things in the story that isn't affected by his narrator bias. if neil is anything, it's self-aware. i'm now going to present all my fucking evidence.

neil doesn't have a sexuality crisis. literally in the entire series never once does he even question his fucking sexuality. it's implied he's already figured out he's aspec/demisexual from the moment nicky questions him about his sexuality. neil says "i don't swing" and follows up in his narration: it wasn't quite the truth, but it was close enough. and later when he starts his relationship with andrew he doesn't ever question the nature of his feelings towards andrew or even anyone else and is pretty clear about it when andrew breaches the topic: "kissing you doesn't make me look at them any differently" so yeah neil is pretty certain and aware of his sexuality.

neil isn't insecure about his appearance. i feel like this is gonna require a bit of work to explain but hear me out. it is mentioned several times that neil has a complicated relationship with his appearance because he looks so much like his father/abuser. this is obviously understandable; you wouldn't want to look into the mirror and see the man who gave u all ur scars. that being said, neil doesn't have a lot of strong emotions regarding his appearance. most of his feelings of panic tied to when r*ko dyed back his hair is because of how it would be a lot easier for his father to discover him now that he has his original colouring back. i'm also pretty sure neil knows that he's cute. like it's never explicitly stated but i've reread aftg maybe fifty times and trust me i can read between the lines. neil explicitly says that he has a "love-hate relationship with his reflection out of necessity" and while the "hate" part of that statement is obvious: he doesn't like that he resembles his father, i've sort of just accepted that the "love" part of it is that he knows he's kinda fine. it's not brought up by him at all bc neil as a person is not one to linger on people's appearances almost at all. i think the only people to get a decent amount of lines dedicated to their appearance in the narration are allison and andrew. but yeah i genuinely don't think neil thinks he's ugly or unattractive and he's probably definitely been told how cute he is by others enough that he doesn't harbour any delusions about how he looks. regarding his scars, he never expresses any insecurity towards them and how they look, he just doesn't like them on display understandably bc of how acutely they point to his past and childhood that he's trying to hide.

neil is actually very very confident in his own and other people's abilties. this is esp regarding exy. he knows he's good at the game. like he knows. the most distinct example i can think of for this point is when kevin tells neil that he was at castle evermore to try out for the perfect court when they were younger. neil doesn't even doubt for a fucking second that he would've made it onto the perfect court. never does. he skips over the second-guessing and doubt part and just straight up starts daydreaming about the future he could've had playing with kevin and r*ko. like that really got me bc it's easy to assume neil would be super unassuming and have low self-esteem but no like neil doesn't doubt for a fucking second that he deserves to be perfect court. it's just that he doesn't believe in r*ko's delusions enough to play along with it by the time he gets the tattoo. he's also insanely confident about the foxes and their abilities and also kevin by the end of the series. at the beginning he takes a pretty realistic vantage point and says that with the way things are, the foxes will never beat the ravens. but even with that pov he still has the gall to challenge r*ko on LIVE TV and i doubt he's lying when he declares so boldly to everyone that if the foxes were united they'd be an unstoppable force (and guess what he was fucking RIGHT). and by the end, when the foxes are united, he has no more room left for doubt at all. some guy tells neil to kick the ravens' asses and neil just replies with zero hesitation "that's the plan". like he's so fucking on board with it. and he never once doubts that kevin is the best striker in the game. like literally never. at first he considers r*ko and kevin on par with each other (possibly, it's never stated outright) but by the end he literally has no doubts when he says "kevin is the best striker" like goddamn the amount of confidence neil has is so underrated.

neil is a very unemotional narrator. it actually gets me all the time how logical and ruthlessly pragmatic neil's narration and inner monologue is. some of the only strong emotions portrayed in neil's narration are anger, irritation and occasionally grief, which is only ever triggered by major trauma-inducing events (e.g. dr*ke). almost all of his inner monologue is analytical and observing others and dissecting either other people or the situation he's in. and almost all of his decisions and actions are made based on impulse and instinct. neil is a very instinctive person. this is outright stated in the way he plays exy; in theory, he can't give u a lot, but in the heat of the moment he's at his best. this applies to practically all facets of neil's life. he never plans his moves or what he's gonna say (except like that one time when he planned out what half-truth he was gonna tell andrew post-columbia). he's super quick and on the ball and literally does whatever the fuck he wants at any given moment. he's also insanely good at compartmentalising. like it's difficult to explain but while his priorities are obv hilariously skewed, they're also very clear in his mind. things he considers unimportant he simply just doesn't think about. what others look like and what they think of him don't factor into his internal monologue or his thoughts at all he literally just files them away in the back of his mind until they do end up becoming useful or important to him. he barely comments on andrew's appearance at all until andrew becomes someone worth staring at and admiring for him. the only reason he describes allison and renee in the detail that he does is because it's important in understanding how and why he reacts to them the way he does. this man was literally about to lose his goddamn mind at the fall banquet but he specifically reserved his mental breakdown for after the banquet so he could spend his time roasting the fuck out of r*ko. bro fully locked in and was like "clock riko now break down later" and i respect it.

neil doesn't actually have a martyr complex. it's funny because almost all of aftg is him being the absolute fucking opposite of a martyr. he wilfully sticks around the foxes knowing he's putting himself and them in danger. he doesn't "sacrifice" himself until he's absolutely forced to by his father's people. by then, he's already told himself he can't and won't run and he's smart enough to know he'll never get away anyway. and going to evermore wasn't about self-sacrifice or martyrdom it was about protecting andrew and those two are pretty fucking different. he knew he was coming back from evermore and he knew that he wouldn't die there, despite all the shit he went through, so i don't think that can be counted as "self-sacrifice". he was doing what he had to do to protect andrew, the same as andrew would've done for neil or aaron or kevin or anyone else he'd sworn to protect. the kidnapping in baltimore was the culmination of neil's character arc, which isn't really about learning to be selfless and self-sacrificing, it's about learning to stand his ground and stop running. those things r crucially different: neil not running in baltimore wasn't about selflessness, it was about courage. yes, part of it was obviously inspired by the foxes and motivated by not wanting them to be hurt but i truly believe it ultimately was about neil learning to stand his own ground and make his own home and have it be something he's willing to die for. call it whatever u want honestly i just don't think neil is as much of a martyr/sacrificial lamb as the fandom makes him out to be.

[deadandphilgames]

A note from Daniel (new epilogue from You Will Get Through This Night)

Thank you for reading This Night. Writing this book in 2021, while sitting locked down in a lightless basement apartment for months, had a certain self-fulfilling irony that was not lost on me.

In many ways, I wrote this book for not only my past self that I wish could have known these things when I needed them most - but for the guy sitting in an incredibly uncomfortable, hunched, t-rex-esque position typing, that needed it right then. Like many of you, I thought those particularly fun couple of years were a temporary inconvenience, that I wouldn't have to age the book by diving into. And here we are. I hope you enjoyed that new chapter about resilience and whatever the hell a 'polycrisis' is. Turns out certain global events do have an additional effect on our mental health - it's understandable that you may try to power through it and pretend it never happened, but we all deserve to take whatever time we need to honestly process how life makes us feel. I hope you're doing alright. My journey of reflecting honestly on my own life experiences and lifestyle while writing was …like spontaneously punching yourself in the stomach. "Wow. I really live like this? That is apparently not conducive to a healthy mind. Oops. Guess I'll go touch some grass." I'm happy if that made this a more entertaining read occasionally.

Even now, I find myself continually re-reading the book in those small moments of first emotional reaction to situations where I now at least think "Wait - what was I supposed to do here? Right. Not catastrophise." If this is you - that is fine. You are not expected to perfectly memorise this book or retain all knowledge you hear in life. I know I don't. If you're ever sat next to me in the emergency exit aisle of a plane, know that you may be required to physically throw me out of the door in order to inflate the slide because I was busy during the briefing, imagining how my life would have been different if I actually had the nerve to dye my hair black that time in school. I am at peace with that.

It was honestly terrifying for me to try and mine the content of my life to try and actually illustrate advice for people that may really need it …for me to honestly look at the balance between joking about my mental health, and really getting real. Hey - if your attempt at opening up via some humour comes out a bit offensive, you still get points for at least putting it on the table. That's progress.

This is not a book about me. I am here just as an example of terrible behaviour that you have permission to have an inappropriate public transport snort at, and as a writer who has repeatedly not finished traditional 'self-help' or scientific study books for being dry, unrelatable and preachy. I just hope you found this moist, identifiable and accepting of all of your beautiful flaws. So many flaws. I often worried if any of the material was maybe obvious, or something you could stumble across on the second page of Google - then I had a small moment of honesty with myself contemplating my own ignorance, commitment to procrastination, attention span …and the fact that factually just 0.63% of all people searching online, ever bother clicking to the second page of results. If you already knew some of this, good for you. Honestly. You must literally be happy with yourself. I'm just looking in the mirror and trying to do something for the 99.37% of humanity that spend their lives never successfully researching how to not lay awake at night fantasising about their doom. Look forward to the upcoming pocket size book of 'offensively self-destructive jokes' by Dan - or 700-page memoir of my yet un-girthy, mostly unremarkable life so far if that's what you're really looking for.

Perhaps the most terrifying result of releasing this book into the world, has been coming face to face with those of you that have read it. For in these moments, all of my protective self-deprecating persona comes crashing down in an instant when someone says this book made them feel better. Hearing that this book was the first time they finished anything tangentially related to self-improvement, or that just one thing they read was a new perspective on a part of their life they needed, makes me feel my mission in life is already complete. Seeing it be recommended by bookstores amongst all the other choices, hearing that people have shared it with their therapists or had it suggested to them by a professional, is an unbelievable seal of approval that I appreciate. I am so inarticulably grateful to have been given the opportunity to do anything that could make your life easier, more peaceful, more enjoyable. I've met people who annotated this book with post-its, told me they listen to audiobook exercises on their commute - and even a few people that have had illustrations tattooed onto them as a symbolic reminder of a message.

All of this puts that year of typing like some kind of infinite monkey at a typewriter into perspective. I'd do it all again. Mostly. It has been the greatest privilege of my life to be the guy whose name is printed on this book, and I just hope that reading it helped you, as much as writing it helped me.

Love and good luck.

- Dan

[ashwhowrites]

Eddie tries to make his girlfriend jealous, but it doesn't work, she gets sad instead, thinking he doesn't love her anymore

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3

Jealousy games

Eddie liked to play pranks and tricks. He enjoyed messing with people's emotions, laughing at their anger, and just having fun.

He saw it as innocent jokes, never quite realizing how much damage certain pranks could do. Never knowing when it went too far.

Y/N tried to understand Eddie's jokes for his sake. She knew many people get pissed off at him and she wanted to be there for him.

Just as Eddie always did, he went too far.

~~~

Y/N and Eddie were having a date at the beach. Y/N wasn't a fan of the water, sand, and sitting in the heat for hours, but she wouldn't pass up the opportunity to see Eddie shirtless. And she was glad she came because as she watched Eddie come out from the water, his head shaking as his curls bounced and dried. The droplets went down his chest, skipping down to his happy trail, her eyes following to where the water stopped.

"See something you like?" His voice snapped her out of her daydream, her eyes looking up to see him standing over her.

"Huh?" she asked, blinking as she snapped to reality.

"Nothing," Eddie laughed, leaning down to grab his wallet near her hip.

"Getting ice cream, want one?" He asked, Y/N gladly agreed. A smile on her face as she watched him run in the sand. She checked out his ass as he leaned over the counter to order. Her eyes skipped down to his tatted legs. She could feel the drool on her chin.

Eddie smiled at the cashier as he grabbed two ice cream cones. He turned to walk back to his girlfriend when a girl stepped in front of him. She had dark hair, tan skin, and a red swimsuit. He eyed her swimsuit, realizing she was a lifeguard.

Over her shoulder, he could see his girlfriend lying out in the sun, her eyes on them. Her heated glare gave Eddie a dangerous idea. A harmless joke, a little tease to get her teeth grinding.

Y/N squinted her eyes to see if she was seeing things. Her eyes froze in on Eddie laughing with this girl. Her hand was on his arm, fingernails moving up and down against his skin. And Eddie did nothing to stop it. He smiled and leaned his head closer. Y/N couldn't believe what she was seeing. Eddie was flirting with another girl, on their date, right in front of her.

He wasn't close enough for her to hear anything that was being said, but the way his body leaned into this girl made Y/N feel sick. His dazzling smile and dimples swooned the girl over.

When Eddie finally walked over to her, she tried to hide how hurt she was. Eddie handed her the melted ice cream cone. The snarky comment made it past her lips.

"Could have at least brought the ice cream over before that," Eddie smirked at her reaction. He figured he made her jealous, take the win, and move on. But he didn't, he wanted to see how far he could push her.

He didn't comment on her attitude, ignoring the comment, he moved on.

He relaxed next to her on his side, the girl still behind her. He looked from Y/N to behind her, to make it obvious he was looking past her. Y/N scrunched her nose but didn't say anything.

She decided to tell a random story, seeing if she could get his attention. But his eyes didn't move to her since. His eyes were still locked on the girl. She couldn't help but feel sick with herself. The comparison of that girl and her, all the ways she fell short. She could feel the tightness in her throat as the tears welled up. Surely, he didn't care about her anymore. He got bored of her, he didn't love her anymore.

Y/N rushed to stand up, gathering her shoes.

"I'll just go so you don't have to look through me to see her," Y/N said, preparing to walk away but Eddie stopped her.

"Hey, where are you going?" He asked

"Home. I don't see why I should be here." She said. Eddie stood up and stepped in front of her.

"Because I want you here. Are you just a bit jealous?" Eddie smirked, his hands on his hips.

"No." Y/N scoffed

"I think you are!" Eddie teased, pointing his fingers at her. "Someone's jealous, someone's jealous, someone's jealous."

"EDDIE STOP! Not everything is a joke. If my feelings are just a joke to you, then fuck off." She snapped, moving past him as she headed to the parking lot.

"Woah! Hey hey!" Eddie panicked, grabbing her hand to stop her. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You just thought it would be funny, I know. You got the reaction you wanted so drop it."

"Baby, I didn't want you to be upset. Just a little jealous, that's it. I'm sorry I went too far. Talk to me." His eyes were finally on her.

"Jealousy isn't a game, Eddie. It's the feeling of being insecure and not good enough. We are on a date and you eyed her more than you've ever looked at me. You were holding my ice cream and flirting with her. Even when I tried talking to you, you completely ignored me. Does that sound funny to you or that my boyfriend doesn't love me anymore?" Her eyes watered as she asked.

"It sounds like your boyfriend is a complete asshole. I love you so much and I'm sorry I made you think I don't love you. It was wrong to play with your feelings and I'll never do it again. You are the only one I want to be with, I promise. It's just you." He said softly, cradling her face. She sniffled but melted into his touch.

"Promise you love me?" She whimpered

"I promise I love you so fucking much." He promised, leaning down to place his lips on hers, kissing her softly.

"Let's go home and I'll show you just how much I love you." He smirked against her lips, his hands gripping her hips.

"You made me cry! And you think you're getting sex?" She teased, she smacked his chest. "You are making me dinner."

"Dinner it is." Eddie agreed. Walking back to grab all their things. Together they walked to the car, the lifeguard out of sight and out of mind.

Tags!

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[howlingday]

So who would rank as the best fighters in Rwby that don't have magic? So no Maidens,Salem,Brother Gods, the Tree or Opzin. Anyone else including the Curious Cat is a choice. (I'm saying the cat counts for this list because even though it's magic we at least have a clear understanding of how his powers work.)

The best fighters? Hoof... That's a tall order, especially since I'd have to look over all the candidates I can remember. But I'll narrow it down to TEN characters, in order to appease the [tumblr] gif limit.

General James Ironwood: Simply put, you don't become the headmaster of a huntsman academy by being weak or stupid, because this commanding officer is definitely neither... relatively speaking. Granted, one could argue against his battle tactics as a military general, but I think when compared to other huntsmen, there's not a lot of characters you can say that require an ambush by almost a dozen people to take down! So yeah, General Ironwood is definitely an intimidating character to start off with.

Ruby Rose: Yeah, I know, I know. Ruby's the main character, so of course she's gonna be on this list! But to be fair (to be fair), she's EARNED her place as a main character. The series starts off with her easily thrashing goons, followed by her heading off to Beacon Academy two years early for her skill against such an impressive foe. And she's only grown ever since. Given time, I can totally see Ruby being the hero who saves Remnant and looks good while doing it.

Neopolitan: Barring magic is one thing, but some characters never needed magic to be overpowered. One such character started off as a generic sidekick villain who bailed Torchwick out. Then she comes back later that same Volume to style and beat down on RWBY's heaviest hitter. Heck, Neo would've ended Yang if it wasn't for Raven showing up! And while Neo doesn't have magic, she does have an overpowered semblance that makes her a nuisance at first and a crisis by the end! Tell me, dear reader; what happens when you put a girl whose semblance called, "Overactive Imagination" inside of a FAIRY TALE?! I'll tell you what you get- YOU GET A NIGHTMARE.

Pyrrha Nikos: Ooh, boy, now this is where things get sad. Pyrrha was the best fighter in Volume 1-3 solely for the fact that she was the one fighter EVERYONE knew about. Pyrrha was getting wins BEFORE the series started and she started racking up wins afterwards against Grimm and other students, too. Sadly, this poor, young Achilles was not truly invincible, for her tender heart was what got her killed... And also an arrow to said tender heart.

Cinder Fall: And speaking of arrows to tender hearts, I should give credit where credit is due, and it's overdue for Cinder Fall. First up, let's look at Cinder WITHOUT her magic. Her semblance, Caress, increases the temperature of things she touches, burning and even melting them. Heck, she was even throwing fireballs BEFORE the Maiden powers were hers! Not to mention she was throwing down with Professor Ozpin, the headmaster of Beacon and definitely the oldest man on the planet! She managed to outwit and outpace a man with centuries of experience. She then went on to kill the best fighter of the roster at Beacon Academy and steal her powers, only becoming wounded by Ruby's silver eyes. And this was all BEFORE she became the Fall Maiden.

Tyrian Callows: I want to admit something. I have a certain bias both towards and against Tyrian. Towards him, he's one of my favorite villains simply for the sheer lengths he'll go to in order to please his goddess, regardless of who he has to kill and how many. Against him, while I will admit he has some of the best fights in the series, his best fight is also the worst in the entire series. Story-wise, that is, because for some reason the other two combatants got way stupider than they should have.

Qrow Branwen: And speaking of fighters getting dumber than they should, here comes one now! Qrow was our introduction to what a REAL huntsman was like. And he did not disappoint! ...At least, when he first showed up. When Team RWBY were struggling against Tyrian, Qrow came in and fought him to a standstill. If Ruby didn't put herself in danger trying to help, Qrow could have won the battle and even been a big help later. Then again, for as skilled as Qrow may be, he's also got some personal issues that make him more of a hinderance than a boon.

Blake Belladonna: Thinking on it, Blake might be the best fighter of Team RWBY, besides Ruby. She has probably the most versatile weapon of the group, neither limited by range nor function, and watching her fight is always entertaining because, well, she's an agile-build fighter who uses airborne attacks to both maintain distance and to build momentum for closing in with killing blows. While Weiss and Yang also have their uses as support and tank builds, Blake feels like the only other fighter who actually has experience fighting.

Jaune Arc: Big surprise, we have the big man himself, Jaune Arc on my list. To the surprise of no one. No, but seriously, Jaune is someone to be praised for his combat skill, especially since his story is about how he literally showed up with 0 skill. I've seen people meme him as "Dark Souls style" and I can't argue. Where everyone else is over the top with their combat, Jaune manages to stay relatively grounded by comparison. No jumping or magic; just pure human strength, and what strength he has! Though, I will say that his usual style is more akin to tank/wall tactics. He's strong enough to take hits from heavy hitters, protecting his allies from heavy, crippling blows, and his semblance keeps himself and others in the fight.

Now, who else do we talk about... Oh, right! Since you brought them up...

The Curious Cat: For this, let's explain how their power works. Simply put, the Curious Cat's power mostly resides in their ability to possess creatures in a weakened state. Ruby was the intended target of this possession, having been forced by the Cat to avoid ascension while becoming physically and emotionally weaker over time. In the end, however, Ruby did ascend, and the Cat was forced to change their plans to possess Neo, who had also recently become emotionally vulnerable. Tactically speaking, the Cat is dangerous simply for their ability to take over and use the powers of another which, as stated previously, is overpowered to MAXIMUM. Once Neo had outlived her use, the Cat then made themselves more powerful by changing their body into something more combative. Combative enough to push Team WBY and Jaune to their limits. It wasn't until Ruby, who found new purpose and strength within herself that she was able to overcome the "Furious Cat" with the aid of her team.

So... yeah.

[kuroshitsuji-igurisshu]

The importance of details

𖤐Hello everyone Kuronians𖤐

To day I would like to tell you about a very interesting frame that can be seen in the fourth season of Kuroshitsuji. This frame made me realise the importance of details and how much Yanuzza takes care of his work.

As we can see, Ciel is in bed with the blanket covering him a little below his shoulder. He looks relaxed and we can tell this state because of his relaxed hand.The problem, however, is that Ciel would never sleep like that. A child who has been through something as traumatic as Ciel's would certainly not feel relaxed and comfortable in a strange place and with strange people. Rather, he would unconsciously seek some sort of 'protection', something that would shield him from reality, because as stupid as it sounds, falling asleep is not easy. Closing your eyes and resting means that you are relaxing and that you feel safe in the place where you are.

Yanuzza in the manga did not draw Ciel casually. First of all, the blanket covers him up to his shoulders, or rather, up to his neck, as if to shield him, to protect him from the outside, thus giving him the right reassurance. The hand is clenched into a fist, as if to indicate a certain rigidity due to the new situation he finds himself in.

When we sleep, we do not have control over our bodies, and precisely because of this, the positions in which we sleep can tell us a lot about ourselves because our bodies can reveal needs, fears and more.

The fact that Ciel sleeps in the fetal position is no coincidence, because people who sleep in this position often have a sort of unconscious desire to regress to childhood. Could this be the case for Ciel? Yes probably, considering that he was once happy. The point is not so much this but the fact that those who sleep in this position unconsciously seek protection. I find this last point very interesting indeed because it is precisely what Ciel lacked at the time....

Besides that, in the first volumes (Luxury Line arc) when we see Sebasian's memories, we can see the first night of the human cub at the mansion. He was completely wrapped up under the blankets (including his head) and if I remember correctly, this position is called the 'sarcophagus position' or a similar name that has to do with death anyway. It is not only a comforting position, but it really becomes a den, a safe place.

In the new season they have changed the position by unintentionally giving a new character to Ciel.Surely there will be people who think like me while others will say 'but it's just a frame'.

What do I think as a graphic designer studying at the Rainbow academy? (yes, the Winx) in the other animated series (excluding Atlantic) although the character design was immature (so much so that in certain scenes the characters from a distance had coloured dots as eyes) the details seem to me to have remained the same, but if it had been the other way round I would have turned a blind eye, after all the whole reflected the dark world of Kuroshitsuji. I certainly can't say the same about the new season since they changed both the colour palette and the character design.

For the umpteenth time since this new season came out, here I am again saying 'I am sorry that Yanuzza's work has been belittled' . I think that in order to understand certain things, one has to be 'in it', for example: to make my monogram and give it a story, I spent a good three months on it! Yes, three months for a monogram. As always, I'll be honest, I don't like the fact that she works her ass off for all these details (details that undoubtedly distinguish a story from one with dicks) details that are then not mentioned in the anime (not to mention the colours and other things because otherwise we'd be here a week)

For example, see how the real Ciel. It is the exact opposite of the position of "Ciel. If the brother is insecure enough to seek protection with blankets, Ciel doesn't give a damn about blankets. That is a position of one who is not afraid of anyone, a position that suggests a certain self-confidence, something that was missing in 'Ciel's' position.

I hope you enjoyed this post that makes us reflect on the details of the manga, a work that deserves much more because of the themes it deals with and the luxurious pain it is imbued with.

If you are curious to see more of my posts, you can find me on IG as Kuroshiutsuji_itaru 😈

[atlasdoe]

no bcs i think dumbles was a trash headmaster and i would've had him stepping down from the headmaster position OR solely focusing in that bcs i feel like he was biting more than he could chew (then again the british educational system has always sucked and nobody gave a fuck about kids so can i? entirely blame him? not truly), BUT blame him for everything???? EVERYTHING???? people are sick. or too young. and need to read more.

yeah i realllg don't understand how people truly believe that Dumbledore is the root to all evil. I swear people are more mad at him for certain characters deaths more then they are at fucking Voldemort.

The thing with Dumbledore is that he's morally grey. He's not the perfect mentor that we're led to believe he is but that doesn't make him a full blown villain. He is not responsible for every bad thing that's happened in the series

and it's SO ANNOYING cause it's taking away everything that made these characters interesting. Like acting as if everyone in the Order was manipulated into joining takes away so much from them.

And as for the Death Eaters don't even get me started. Evan and Barty in particular died because of their own actions. They committed crimes, they were supposed to be arrested but they resisted and instead were killed. Dumbledore has literally no hand in that because he's not apart of the justice system and has never shown any signs of wanting to be

And as for the people who died during the Battle of Hogwarts blaming Dumbledore is just plain dumb. Dumbledore was literally already dead at this point and speaking of Remus and Tonks as if they were fully adults doing their job (as part of the Order and in Tonks case literally her job. It's her fucking job to fight bad wizards. It's what she gets paid for. She's a fucking auror) with the kids it's more McGonagalls fault if anything for letting the kids fight in the battle to begin with. But the fandom love McGonagall so they'd never admit it. Either way Dumbledore was already six feet under and played literally no part in the battle or had a say in who fought it (HE WAS LITERALLY DEAD)

Also while we're here let's talking about everyone else

James and Lily Dumbledore literally put in hiding to protect them "but he took the invisibility cloak" no. James gave him the cloak. We don't know why but considering James and Lily were in hiding and their lives were in the hands of their best friend Peter it's not hard to imagine that they deemed themselves safe enough to hand Dumbledore a cloak that wouldn't have fitted all three of them anyway

Cedric Diggory died because of three people and their names are Peter Pettigrew, Barty Crouch Jr and Voldemort. Maybe at best i'll give you that Dumbeldore wasn't looking into the odd things happening at Hogwarts (like Harry being chosen) enough but then you'll have to be prepared to blame every other teacher as well

Marlene, Dorcas, Pandora, Alice, Frank, and practically every other marauders era character had very little cannon information about their death but none of their deaths mention anything to do with Dumbledore. How tf is Dumbledore to blame for Pandora experimenting with spells???

Regulus is the same with Barty and Evan. That man went into the cave by himself because of something Kreacher told him about Voldemort. IF DUMBLEDORE KNEW THAT REGULUS WENT INTO THET CAVE AND KNEW ABOUT THE LOCKET THEN WHY THE FUCK WOULD HE TAKE THE LITERAL CHOSEN ONE WHO HAS TO BE KILLED BY VOLDEMORT INTO A DEATH CAVE TO GET A PHONY LOCKET??????????

As i've said I don't even like Dumbledore like that but this fandom is killing me with all of this frankly stupid nonsense and it's killing my braincells

[charmedreincarnation]

Doubt and how to persist

When you’re working towards manifesting your dreams, there will be times where doubt creeps in and it feels like it will never come to fruition. However, you need to stay persistent if you want to make your dreams come true. Here are some tips to help you persist even with doubt in your manifestation journey. it can be difficult to maintain faith and believe in the process. Even when you know that it's real and are dedicating time and energy to manifesting your desires, it's common to experience doubt. In this video, I'll explain why it's so normal to doubt your manifestation, and how to push past those doubts in order to successfully realize what you're wishing for.

First off, let's examine why it's so common to experience doubt when you're trying to manifest something. We live in a society that condones logical thinking and tangible evidence, so when we focus on something intangible and unseen, our minds will understandably become filled with questions and uncertainties. This is why it’s natural to have doubts - your mind may be propelling you to view the world in a more analytical way.

It's also important to understand that manifesting often requires us to have a certain level of faith and belief. When we become aware of the doubts and lack of faith that can exist within our minds, it can create further doubt as we become even more aware of our own lackluster faith. So to work around that doubt I think it’s important right First, focus on your ‘why’. Your ‘why’ is the reason you’re motivated to make your dreams come true. Remind yourself why you’re doing this and the impact it will have on your life and the lives of those around you. It will be the source of strength when doubt creeps in. Also limit your exposure to external factors. Doubt can take root more easily when you’re constantly exposed to outside opinions that may not align with yours. Block out this noise and focus on yourself and your ‘why’. The amount of time I see people question their own beliefs just because a blogger says something else is super concerning. Different perspectives and beliefs from someone else doesn’t take away from the validity of yours.

Also..Don’t forget to practice self-care during doubt-filled moments. Take a little break from your manifestation journey and do something that makes you happy. When you come back feeling refreshed, that doubt won’t be so big anymore. God or not, you’re still a person with emotions and this can be overwhelming. Taking a break says nothing about your persistence or your faith, don’t let that false notion stop you from taking care of yourself. Despite how seemingly difficult it can be, understanding how to persist with doubt is something that anyone can work through. Taking the time to practice far-reaching awareness of one’s thought patterns is key to improving internal dialogue and recognizing those pesky, discouraging thoughts. Developing self-compassion and an awareness of past traumas can help in having a more soothing, understanding approach to handling these types of thoughts. Additionally, engaging in activities like mindfulness meditation, journaling, and nature walks can help build healthy coping strategies for when these unwanted feelings arise are all things I’ll never stop advocating for.

Finally, this isn’t talked about much, but don’t be afraid to find an accountability partner or group and keep working towards your goals. Having someone support and encourage you on your journey makes it easier to push through the moments of doubt. Plus, knowing someone else is counting on you can be a huge motivator to keep going. Community and relationships not only have personally held me more accountable but my resolve is always stronger when I’m also encouraging and fighting for others.

I think it's also important to remember that we must persist if we want our desires to come true. I think this is a concept but we’ve all seen but people interpret what true persistence looks like differently.

So let's talk about the concept of persistence according to Neville Goddard. He famously said, “What you persist in imagining, you will ultimately experience.” This is a powerful statement and it's one that we should remember if we want to manifest our deepest desires. Goddard believed that it was necessary to persist in our imaginings in order to bring them into being. He taught that our subconscious mind is incredibly powerful and can help shape the world around us. We can use this power to create the life we desire if we are willing to persist in our imaginations.

When we imagine something vividly, we are actually bringing it into being in our minds. The more we do this, the more powerful it becomes and the easier it is to manifest it into reality. This is why Goddard emphasized the importance of persistence. remember that our desires will inevitably come true, no matter how many times we imagine them. However, this does not mean that we should not persist in our imaginings. We must be consistent in order for our imagined realities to take physical form. This is how we create the life of our dreams. That’s it. Simply having the desire and constantly longing it for it in the imagination is all it is and it’s what we all do.

Persistence is key when it comes to manifestation. When we persist in our imaginings, we are planting the seeds of our desires deep within the subconscious and they will eventually take physical form. But it will only happen if we persist in visualizing and believing in our desired reality.

At the core of Neville Goddard's teachings is the belief that by believing and feeling something is true, it will eventually come true. He believed that each of us has the power to create our own reality by using our thoughts, feelings, and in some cases, physical actions. This means that we have the power to shape our lives as we see fit and that it is up to us to take the actions necessary to make that happen.

So then why does it take so long for a 3D manifestation to conform to a 4D vision?

Well, Neville Goddard himself said that it takes time for the spiritual vision to become physical. That is because, in order for a manifestation to become real, it has to go through several steps, including developing an emotional connection to the desired outcome, defining what that outcome looks and feels like in detail, and committing to the daily practice of visualization and affirmation in order to bring the vision into reality. Another reason why it may take some time for a 3D manifestation to conform to a 4D vision is because the spiritual process requires us to surrender our attachment to the outcome. When we let go of our expectations and surrender our attachment and need for control, we open up space for the divine to work its magic. as Neville Goddard stated, “Energy follows thought” – so if you invest more energy into something, it will eventually come to you. This means that if you are focused on your vision and put in all the effort needed to bring it into reality, not only will you remain patient until its completion but you will also see faster results.

[butterflydm]

wot reread: a memory of light (chapters 32-36)

spoilers for a memory of light, the final book.

Ah. It's a Mat PoV. I never really know what to expect out of Mat PoV these days, I have to admit. Early-to-middle Mat is always an enjoyable read, but I learned to despise reading Mat PoV during CoT & KoD, the two books that made me dislike Mat. The Sanderson Mat PoV chapters have varied wildly between "ugh I hate this"; "huh, that's intriguing"; and "Mat! <3". So, yeah, never know what I'm about to get when I start a Mat PoV these days.

2. Mat considers going out onto the battlefield again but changes his mind when Tuon glares at him from her ten-foot tall throne (...someone is overcompensating; that thing is twice as tall as she is). We get another of those bizarre thoughts from Mat where he praises Tuon for things that he dislikes from anyone else (Min did the same thing in her recent PoV too -- she's all "I don't respect any titles... except yours, Empress! I'll kiss the ground you walk on, Empress! I'll tell you anything you want, Empress!" ...I am mildly paraphrasing). I mentioned this earlier, how Mat starts having super-weird "I was born a native Seanchan" thoughts at a certain point, and this really feels like one of them.

In this instance, he claims that Tuon's ~way of giving orders~ "gives him a thrill", which... I'm torn between two things:

A. it just sends me right back to slave-conditioning (go back to Bethamin's Rules of Slave-Breaking back in Winter's Heart! It is downright eerie how much Tuon followed the rules there in how she interacted with Mat in CoT & KoD; it reminds me of how the most heartbreaking damane moments are when the channelers stop fighting and start desperately wanting to please their mistresses).

but

B. his actions don't really seem to back up that he enjoys getting ordered around by Tuon? Or enjoys watching her order other people around? It might be a thing, I guess, where his body has been conditioned into getting a thrill out of her being a slave-owner but emotionally and intellectually he's turned off by it?

3. Hmm, so Tuon gets incredibly jealous about Mat being in the same room as other women (who aren't slaves), but she doesn't want him looking at her with lust either. Interesting data point.

This is also a place where we really dive into the toxic ways that Mat is using the phrase 'Aes Sedai', where it basically is twisted to mean 'woman with power that I'm scared of' -- Tuon is an Aes Sedai in Mat's thoughts here, despite never actually channeling or having gone through the training to become an Aes Sedai. She's 'one of them' because she is a woman who is capable of having a power that Mat doesn't understand. If Mat had gone to Merrilor and learned what damage his fear and mistrust of Aes Sedai had caused in Caemlyn, he might have learned a healthier way to think about Aes Sedai.

4. Ah, @markantonys, here's that line: "You're doing a fine job of persuading Tuon not to use damane" (Mat sarcastically thinks to himself).

?????

It really is a fascinating/horrifying/mind-boggling contrast between what Mat's intentions apparently are and what he's actually done when he interacts with Tuon. Now, this is not the first allusion to the idea that Mat wants Tuon to stop using damane -- he told Min a few chapters back that "Rand" would want her to selectively use her viewings to try to encourage Tuon to think more favorably about Aes Sedai (Min proceeded to completely ignore him and just spilled literally everything to Tuon that she wanted to know) -- but it's the first time that Mat has actively tried to claim that he has been attempting to persuade Tuon on the matter of the damane.

So, in theory, Mat wants to persuade Tuon to stop using damane.

But in practice, Mat has always been silent and complicit when it comes to Tuon's use and abuse of damane, just as he is in this scene here. It kinda seems like the only way Mat is willing to risk himself for the damane around Tuon is by trying to place other people in her path who will argue on their behalf.

Mat is "unnerved" by how quickly the new Sharan damane has taken to her captivity. I mean, I could say the same of you, Mat.

5. Hmm, Mat is charming Galgan now. Maybe I spoke too soon on thinking that Galgan would no longer try to murder Tuon now that Mat is next in line for the throne, displacing Galgan's claim. If he ends up liking Mat more than he likes Tuon, then Mat might 'accidentally' become the (first?) Emperor of the Seanchan.

Ugh, now Mat is using "marath'damane" instead of "channelers". ...and, by contrast, Galgan is using "Aes Sedai" on Mat's orders. Hmm.

I guess we're supposed to be wondering who will 'win' in the corruption game between Mat and Tuon -- does Tuon manage to break him into being a proper husband-slave or does Mat manage to reach whatever tiny shreds of empathy might still lurk inside Tuon's heart?

6. idk why Mat keeps thinking that Tuon's behavior is mysterious and a puzzle to figure out. It's the omens. She's told you this. He wants to think that she's deeper than she really is, I guess. I suppose if I were trapped in a similar situation, I'd be doing my best to make the best of it too (but that runs into my other big problem of: Jordan's fatalism infecting all the characters even when it's contrary to their past behavior).

7. Tuon is currently interrogating Min on all the omens that she sees for every member of the Blood that's around. And Min just, you know, obeys. For whatever reason.

"He had an inkling of what Tuon might be capable of, if she grew displeased with Min."

Hmm.

"He loved her-- Light, he was pretty sure that he did. But he also let himself be a little afraid of her. He'd have to keep watch so that Tuon didn't decide to 'educate' Min."

Hmm.

Much like Mat himself, Min is in an 'honored' position... but Mat is very aware that this will not actually protect her from getting 'educated' if she displeases his wife-owner. And, once again, Mat gives us nothing he loves about her. Yet when it comes to why he's "a little afraid" of her, Mat does have reasons -- what he's alluding to here is that he's worried that she might hurt his friend's girlfriend (because he's seen Tuon hurt other innocent people in the past).

And we know the kinds of lessons that sul'dam teach. To quote from The Great Hunt again:

Renna took the chair, frowning at Egwene. "I must punish you severely for this. We will both be called to the Court of the nine Moons -- you for what you can do; I as your sul'dam and trainer -- and I will not allow you to disgrace me in the eyes of the Empress. I will stop when you tell me how much you love being damane and how obedient you will be after this. And, Tuli. Make me believe every word."

8. As a result of Min's reading of the 'omens' around one of the Blood, Tuon (through Selucia) announces that the woman will be executed, making both Mat and Min startle severely. Wow, maybe it's a bad idea to hand that kind of surveillance 'technology' over to an unhinged dictator, Min? Who could have guessed?

Anyway, Min is completely shocked by this (completely predictable) reaction from Tuon at an 'omen' that hints at potential betrayal.

Mat's thoughts about Tuon, the woman that he "loves":

Mat shivered. He didn't like it when Tuon got like this. That stare of hers... it seemed like the stare of another person. A person without compassion. A statue had more life to it.

That's literally just Tuon being Tuon, bro. Not sure what to tell you. This is the way she behaves the majority of the time. If you dislike this about her, then you're going to be unhappy for most of your marriage.

9. Min 'wins' this round pretty much the same way that Mat 'won' Tuon telling him that he was more than a toy to her -- she says that she won't tell any more omens to Tuon if Tuon continues to behave this way. If Tuon executes people based solely on Min's 'omens', then Min will stop giving her any omens.

I will say... this has been pretty consistent in the narrative so far -- Tuon only really responds to the threat of her toys being taken away from her. Anything less that that and she will continue to push the boundaries of making someone uncomfortable. Only the threat of losing her toys entirely really makes it through to her brain.

Mat worries here that Min's "lack of respect" towards Tuon is going to get her executed, but for the moment, Tuon agrees that she will not kill anyone based on what Min says they 'might' do.

...given how 'well' Tuon has kept her word so far, I'm pretty sure that she'll have trumped up an excuse to kill this member of the Blood in the next couple of days. But she'll be able to convincingly lie to Min that it wasn't because of her viewing.

I do think it's weird/fascinating how Min seems to view her 'job' with Fortuona as an all-or-nothing affair -- Mat suggested that she pick and choose what she tells Fortuona in an attempt to influence her, but Min seems to feel like she can either tell Fortuona everything or nothing at all. But we don't get any reason why that's the case. Especially since Tuon is a lot more interested in hearing Min's viewings about other people than the ones about herself, which was something that Min claimed she did for Rand as a ~special exception~ to her normal policy of respecting people's privacy. Again, why is Min going out of her way for the Seanchan? Tuon wouldn't actually know if Min lied to her about this.

10. Awww, Egwene is speaking in code to Mat about his medallion so as not to give his secret away to the enemy Seanchan. It's too late, Egwene. Setalle Anan betrayed Mat's secrets long ago, but it's very sweet of you to care.

Okay, so Elayne joins the, uh, conference call at this point ("thick with child". Um, exactly how far along do you think she is, Sanderson?) and so I am going to try to figure out what, if anything, she knows about the Mat situation. Thom told her a heroic story about Mat freeing slaves. Perrin told her Mat was doing "something" with the Seanchan. She's been pretty busy since then, so I wonder if Egwene has had time to update her on anything.

Mat wants to merge all the forces together. Mat's thoughts on Elayne: "She maintained the posture of a queen, but her disheveled hair and clothing burned in several places indicated what she'd been through." Meanwhile, ~Fortuona~ sits in pristine silks and lets Mat do her talking for her. I suppose she views him as acting as her Voice-husband-slave right now.

11. Elayne and Mat are the two people talking over the tactics at this meeting, btw (so consider that another spit in the eye to Perrin for trying to diss Elayne's tactical knowledge). Mat laying out the plan and Elayne questioning the details and reasoning.

Elayne doesn't acknowledge Tuon's existence at all during this entire section. She is absolutely and 100% only talking to Mat, and there's never even a mention of her looking over and noticing Tuon. She also doesn't seem to be treating Mat any differently than she had before.

I am so curious about Elayne's thoughts on this situation! Did Thom tell her about Mat's marriage being an accident when he came to Merrilor? Does she even know that Mat is married to the Seanchan Empress? She knows he's married to someone, because of his letter, but does she know who?

...also, she doesn't mention the Horn of Valere and Mat needing to blow it. That's maybe the one thing here that does indicate that she is aware of Tuon & the Seanchan even if she doesn't acknowledge them, not wanting to give away the Horn's believed ties to Mat. Which implies that she's ignoring ~Fortuona~ as a deliberate snub (good for her).

If the "Two Rivers coat" that Mat has been wearing was sourced by the person that Elayne found for Mat (by his request), then he is also wearing clothes that were supplied by Elayne during this entire meeting. Seanchan breeches and an Andoran coat.

Also, Elayne telling Mat, "I hope you know what you're doing," triggers the dice in his head. Is that... is that about more than the battle, Elayne? Are you speaking in code, Elayne? Are you talking about Tuon, Elayne?

Side note: Elayne doesn't get the whole "ugh no, she's a Dreaded Aes Sedai" treatment from Mat here even though she literally is one and Tuon is, in fact, not. I'm guessing because Mat isn't scared of Elayne?

12. Elayne then "passionately" explains and defends Mat's plan to Tam and, idk, some other leaders in the armies on her side.

lol so much at Galad's thoughts about how Perrin is so ~reasonable~ compared to other leaders like Elayne and how maybe the Whitecloaks should settle in the Two Rivers after the Last Battle. Perrin doesn't. He doesn't actually like you, Galad.

It is interesting that Galad is thinking of them as "Whitecloaks" though. When did that start?

Haha, just I was noting that, Galad also notices that he just did that and is puzzled at himself for it.

Elayne does not mention the Seanchan at all here, only "Mat" this and "Mat" that. Nothing about the Seanchan.

13. When Perrin asks Slayer if he thinks he'll be rewarded by the Dark One, Slayer tells Perrin "The Dark One does not discard useful tools" (citing the Forsaken as evidence) and I'm reminded of the many many commonalities that the Seanchan and the Shadow share all over again, because that is just about as true about TDO as it is about the Seanchan -- which is to say, sure, as long as you're still useful, you won't be discarded.

The Seanchan Empire is going to be the Great Evil of the Fourth Age, one way or another. I don't think there's any way for anyone to stop that. The poison is too baked into their culture as it currently stands, and the poison drips through to the people ("the poison drips through" is apparently a quote from Succession, which I've never seen, but that's a fantastic line).

14. Faile is hanging out with the Redarms, who are worrying about "Lord Mat" and wishing that they could be with him to protect him from the Seanchan. So that's now two sets of groups that care deeply about Mat and want to save him from the Seanchan that he's gotten himself tangled up with: Egwene & the Band of the Red Hand's Redarms. So it is 'known' among the general army that Mat is hanging out with the Seanchan (though not that he's married to ~the Empress~), so Elayne definitely knew last chapter when she was completely ignoring Tuon and only talking to Mat. And Faile is here to deliver the Horn to Mat (presumably without tipping it off to the Seanchan with him what they're doing?). To everyone except Faile herself, though, the delivery is "tabac from the Two Rivers" for Mat to enjoy during the battle, as a treat from The Amrylin.

Setalle Anan is also part of this group, it seems, and so is Olver, who is not dead (no thanks to Mat).

A bubble of evil sets their planned Gateway awry and they end up in the Blight instead of Merrilor.

15. ...Melaine is apparently "near to term" and just about ready to give birth. Which would mean that it's been less than nine months since Min first arrived in Caemlyn back in Lord of Chaos (and yet six of those months have apparently happened after Winter's Heart?).

It has been "many days" since Rand went up into the mountain of Shayol Ghul.

Aviendha catches Graendal in the act of attempting to influence the new commander who was put in place after Ituralde was taken out of command, and has an encounter with the red-veiled Aiel, realizing that they are the men who were sent into the Blight to die with honor upon realizing they could channel and that they have been Turned by TDO's channelers.

side note: this does remind me that one group that ends up not having a single Darkfriend in it are the Aiel Wise Ones. Not all of them are great people -- some of them are pretty awful -- but even the worst of the Shaido Wise Ones are not Darkfriends, I'm pretty sure? And no Aiel clan chiefs are Darkfriends either. No one who has been to Rhuidean and lived, essentially. Were the glass columns filtering out Darkfriends in addition to filtering out people who couldn't handle the truth about the Aiel's past?

16. Ah, I think this is our first real introduction to The Dark One as Entropy & the End of All Things. TDO 'wants' (or is driven by its nature) to consume the Pattern and leave nothing behind. I think, out of all the Darkfriends in the book series, that only Ishamael/Moridin actually understands TDO's goal. All the others are scrambling for temporal power and think they're actually going to rule the world after TDO 'wins' but there isn't going to be a world to rule. Only Ishamael/Moridin understands that the endgame is the ending of existence itself.

In the show, they've already tied us into this concept -- Dana, who gets dreams (presumably from Ishamael), talked to Rand about how TDO wants to end 'suffering' by 'breaking the Wheel'. So the show already set us up for the endgame battle which is great because it means (as long as Rafe & co know in advance that they're writing the final season), the show can always pivot to our endgame because they've already planted the seeds.

I'm curious about how much they'll tie Dana's argument into the Seanchan invasion. Because TDO is an existential calamity for everyone, but the Seanchan are an existential calamity for channelers in particular (though we do also have da'covale and I definitely hope that the show doesn't forget about them the way that it kinda feels like the books forgot about them). Once the Seanchan are on the scene, the question of "is it better to suffer in agony and humiliation for hundreds of years with no hope of escape or it is better to just end that suffering?" becomes an active question for the majority of the main cast (Moiraine, Egwene, Nynaeve, Elayne, and Rand too when/if the male a'dam comes into play -- and especially Egwene, who goes through that suffering personally).

17. Poor Faile actually has to worry about travel logistics -- they're stuck in the Blight and it would take 'months' to walk to Merrilor. Shame she doesn't have Mat's magical non-channeling teleportation skills.

However, they do see that they're not too far off from the peak of Shayol Ghul itself and decide to head in that direction, since some of Rand's troops should be there. But Faile worries that there's a Darkfriend in their caravan and worries even more that someone on the side of the Shadow knows that she has the Horn of Valere.

Somewhat nearby, as she is also in the Blasted Lands, after a lengthy battle with the red-veiled Aiel, Aviendha's group gets battered by Graendal, with one of the Aes Sedai getting compelled and two others getting killed.

18. Olver still hates the Shaido (and all Aiel by extension) for killing his parents and yet had zero lasting negative reaction to the Seanchan invading a city where he was living, causing destruction and death all around him and deeply injuring someone he cared about a lot (the wall falling on Mat). The contrast between Olver's trauma from the Shaido invasion and his lack of trauma from the Seanchan invasion really does remain so baffling. The Seanchan invasion should have brought back so many horrible memories for him, but he was basically the same in WH as he was in ACoS -- all he cared about was snuggling into a grown woman's breasts.

So Olver knows that Noal is dead, "filtered through what the Lady Moiraine had shared about what had happened at the Tower of Ghenjei" (haha so she did get around to saying more than "the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills" eventually). He also knows that Mat has "run off to join the Seanchan" (parental figure abandonment -- and Mat has not even spared a single thought for Olver this entire time, btw. Olver is worrying that Mat might die and Mat hasn't even had a passing thought about Olver's wellbeing; though I focus on the loss of Mat & Rand's friendship because of how... shallow... their reunion was, Mat's relationship to Olver also got shredded by Mat's off-the-page choice to desert his people).

Anyway, poor kid. He actually feels like a kid here, too, instead of a walking advertisement letting us know that Mat Cauthon Leers At Women And Teaches Kids To Do It Too, which is basically all he was for most of ACoS-KoD. He worries that he's going to end up all alone (again) as his companions die or abandon him. He has signs of trauma from Mat abandoning him here, too -- he thinks if he's able to train up and prove to Mat that he's useful, maybe Mat won't abandon him (again).

19. It sounds like the 'essence' of the Dark One in Shayol Ghul is basically acting like a miniature black hole -- it's trying to suck them into it. It's already eaten Nynaeve's shawl.

For Nynaeve and Moiraine, about an hour has passed. Rand's foot touched the darkness when he went to meet Moridin sword-to-sword and now the two of them appear frozen in time & locked in place. The wind pulls and tears at Nynaeve and Moiraine's clothing but Rand and Moridin are untouched by it.

20. Carefully moving around the chamber, clinging from rock to rock to keep herself from being pulled into the black hole, Nynaeve finds Alanna behind one of the rocks in the chamber. She's chained to the wall and has a bleeding wound in her side (matching Rand's, perhaps?).

Nynaeve realizes that the reason that Alanna here is to die at some point during Moridin's encounter with Rand, hopefully leaving him vulnerable due to the broken bond and making him easier prey for Moridin (and/or TDO? Though Nynaeve thinks here in terms of making Rand more physically vulnerable, making him more emotionally susceptible to TDO's arguments also seems like a likely motive to me?).

She wonders why Rand didn't notice Alanna's presence -- is he just so used to reflexively ignoring her? Nynaeve is feeling frustrated that she is unable to heal Alanna with the Power, because all her Power is in the link with Rand.

...oh, hey! I bet that's what Rand was feeling earlier! He could feel that someone he was bonded to had gotten hurt but the feeling was weird and he couldn't trace it. I bet that was about Alanna getting stabbed and it was wonky because it happened in the Weird Time Dilation Room.

21. Hmm, Mat is having memory issues. He blames his dice here on when "Egwene gave him control of the armies" but it was Elayne's words to him that triggered this set of rolling dice. We know because we were in his PoV when it happened.

Mat sees an old Andoran man that almost triggers an old memory for him, one of the ones that the dagger stole (it would have been when Rand was taking care of him on the trip to Caemlyn -- another one of the shoes that never quite fell for Mat, characterization-wise, is him getting back his foggy memories. We've seen a time or two that they are still in there, not just in this moment, but also back in Ebou Dar, when he saw the Darkfriend who attacked him and Rand in the stables). Mat actually remembering that everything Rand did to help him during the time he was sick with the dagger seems like one of those things that will inevitably happen post-canon, because the memories are still there, just hiding.

22. When Mat sees "his" Deathwatch guard among the working people here, he compares them to "wolves among the sheep". Mat does see it as a bonus that he was able to pull the armies together and pick his own battlefield but he's still pretty worried about the battle ahead.

Tuon gave Mat a new eyepatch to wear -- bright red. To remind people of the wound underneath? We know that she likes the active reminder to everyone that Mat has been bloodied in battle. Or we do get a reminder that the Deathwatch guards (all slaves) also wear a distinctive shade of red, so it's probably also another badge of her ownership over Mat.

23. When Mat tries to avoid the Deathwatch guard that are coming to "collect" him to be brought to Tuon's tent (the narrative keeps bringing up things that are so reminiscent of Tylin's behavior towards Mat), he runs right into Egwene and a group of Aes Sedai. Also... it's interesting that he thinks of it as "Tuon's tent" and not a tent that they share together.

When he mentions that he's running away from the Deathwatch guard, Egwene tells him that she's glad he's defecting back to the Westlands but the middle of the Last Battle is maybe not the best time. He walks back with Egwene (& Gawyn and Leilwin née Egeanin) back over to the Aes Sedai area of the camp as they talk.

24. Mat says that the reason he's running from the guard is not because he's defecting back to the Westlands but because Tuon wants him to sit in judgement over potential criminals (...in the middle of the Last Battle?). "Anytime a soldier is seeking the Empress's mercy for a crime, I'm supposed to sit in judgement!"

Mat thinks here that he's not going to 'order men to be executed' and, yeah, I keep going back to what Renna said to Egwene, all those books ago. Perhaps you believe that because you are valuable now, you will be allowed license. Or I think back to Mat's worries that Min's "lack of respect" towards Tuon will get her killed.

Because it kinda sounds like it's been made clear to him that "sit in judgement" means "condemn people to death" and that Mat would risk personal punishment if he rules against what Tuon would want him to rule. Is Mat worrying about how hard he can push Tuon without it painfully snapping back on him?

25. He obliquely asks Egwene if they've found 'it' (the Horn of Valere) yet. Hey, Mat, if you were so worried about that, maybe you shouldn't have defected to the Seanchan at the beginning of this book? Just a thought.

Yeah, we get a reminder of how easily Mat rewrites his own memory here when he talks about how he did all the hard work of finding the Horn and the dagger was barely a consideration for him. So for anyone wondering why I keep poking at Mat's professed reasons for doing things and doubting the surface level of what he says -- page 611 of the hardback copy of AMoL:

"It seems nobody can remember straight but me. I hunted down that bloody Horn like a madman. And, I'll mention, it was me blowing the thing that let you all escape Falme*."

"Is that how you remember it?" Egwene asked.

"Sure," Mat said. "I mean, I have some holes in there, but I've pieced it mostly together."

"And the dagger?"

"That trinket? Hardly worth anyone's time." He caught himself reaching to his side, to where he had once carried it.

(* side note: yeah, his mention of this here makes me feel even more sure that he deliberately didn't tell Tuon about Egwene being captured in Falme because he didn't think it was her business. He tells Tuon things on a need-to-know basis only, from what I can see, which feels like it's reflected in the advice that he gave to Min)

26. Egwene Travels them to the top of another location (to further move away from the Deathwatch guard) and Mat takes a moment to notice the grove of trees that Rand grew on the Fields of Merrilor.

[Mat] could feel something pulling on him, tugging him northward. Rand would need him soon.

27. Mat tells Egwene that this will have to be their last stand -- they don't have the supplies for a protracted battle. She says that they just need to hold out long enough for Rand to beat TDO.

But Mat points out that if they are unable to break the Shadow's advance, then they do still lose in some pretty important ways, because the Shadowspawn will flood the lands and kill all the non-combatants. "We can't just survive... we have to win."

We get another moment of Rand tugging on Mat from Shayol Ghul while the dice tumble in his head.

Mat turned northward again. A cool, somehow familiar wind blew across him, rippling his long coat, brushing at his hat. He narrowed his eye. Rand was tugging on him.

Ugh, I feel so cheated by this. Why set this up only to give us such a disappointing conclusion to this thread, Sanderson?

Anyway, the battle starts anew. And Mat successfully avoided being dragged back to Tuon's tent, so congrats to him on that.

Okay, the next chapter is the monster (nearly 200 pages all on its own), so that will be a separate post.

[ultzwoozi]

“One Step Closer”

currently playing: you broke me first by tate mcrae

pairings: doyoung x reader (but this chapter is mainly/only haechan x reader!) genre: angst/fluff (this chapter is angsty) warning(s): haechan being an ass, using someone as a rebound, haechan gaslighting and gatekeeping but not girlbossing. word count: 2.7k authors note: hii this is my first series! its gonna be small but i hope you guys like it! its gonna be doyoung x reader BUT we gotta look at the past to understand the present! i hope you like the rest :)

summary: the last one hurt you bad, so you swore off dating. what happens when you meet someone who had the same story?

“Tomorrows your big day. How do you feel?” Sitting on your couch with your best friend, drinking and eating whatever snacks were in your cabinet, You sat and took it all in. “It feels unreal woo, like i'm graduating. That's wild. Kinda sad my parents couldn’t make it but at least you and Hyuk will be there.” Wooyoung sighed and turned to face you completely. “I still don’t get why you’re dating him. He barely passed college. He uses everyone hes around, y/n. He didn’t have the best reputation in college or highschool. I also heard that he and his ex didn’t end too well..”

You playfully punch wooyoung and shake your head. “Hey, he's nice. And so far nothing has been wrong. He cares, he’s gonna get a better job after i graduate so the two of us can live comfortably. He promised. He’s been nothing but sweet to me. Maybe he changed. I think I actually love him.. He's so much better than the others, woo. Can you trust me?” Wooyoung shrugged and nodded, he went along with what you said, Hoping it's for the best. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, I'll be back.”

Once Wooyoung was up and out of the way, you pulled out your phone and called the contact labeled “Hyuk 💕” it took a couple rings but he eventually picked up.

“Hey sorry to bother, I hope you're not busy but you’re still coming to my graduation tomorrow, right?” there was silence on the other end for a little while before he spoke up “Yeah of course, i wouldn’t miss it for the world. What time is it?” Wooyoung peeked his head out of the bathroom and figured he’d stay in there for a bit longer so you could talk to your boyfriend.

“Y/n! Oh my god you did it– I'm so proud of you!” That's all you heard all day from everyone. Graduating from medical school is a big achievement. Hearing people be so proud of you at your graduation was something you always wanted to hear. Wooyoung wrapped you in a big hug. “Y/n, I've never been prouder.”

“Thanks woo. Have you seen Hyuck?” Wooyoung gave the biggest face of disgust at you when you asked where your current boyfriend was. He released you from his embrace and pointed to the relatively tall man. He was staring off at the other graduates. He graduated last year, you started dating about 9 months ago. You wondered what he was staring at, but you didn't put much thought into it.

“I’m going to go to him, coming with?” You turn to wooyoung, he shakes his head and points to his best friend, San, who's also graduating this year. “No it's okay, I’m gonna go hang out with San. Let me know if you’re leaving with Donghyuck or me to the restaurant, okay?” You gave Wooyoung a nod and proceeded towards your boyfriend.

He didn’t seem to notice your presence at all until you hugged him from behind, holding the flowers Wooyoung gave you earlier. “Hi! What are you staring at?” Startled, your boyfriend turns to look at you poking out under his arm. “Hm, hi babe. Congratulations!” He hands you a bouquet of flowers similar to Wooyoungs, but instead it's filled with different flowers that aren’t your favorite. Arranged in a certain order, as if it was meant for someone else. Nonetheless, it was a gift from your boyfriend and you gladly accepted it.

“Thanks hyuk. Who were you staring at earlier?” You asked, his face seemed to get sadder before he answered. “No one important, just someone I used to be close to.” You open your mouth to say something when you get cut off by someone calling your name. “Y/n!” you look over and see a man with hair cut nicely, dressed in a button up and black slacks. Next to him was a man around the same height with a pointer nose, dressed similarly. “Jen! I didn’t think you’d make it.” You back away from Donghyuk and hug your cousin, Jeno.

“I wouldn’t miss something like this. Never. I hope you don’t mind, I brought a friend. This is Seokmin, Seokmin, this is my cousin, Y/n.” Seokmin smiled, his smile was bright and warm. He shook your hand and congratulated you. You smiled back and accepted his congrats.

You turn back to your boyfriend, and yet again you see him staring. But this time, you make out who he's staring at. Your friend, Yoonah. Did they know each other? “Yoonah!” You call out to her, she's quick to notice you. It doesn’t take too long for her to notice Donghyuk behind Jeno and Seokmin. The moment she begins to walk closer, Donghyuk excuses himself. He gave you a kiss on your forehead and told you he was going to go collect the others so they could all head out to eat. He left without looking back at Yoonah and went to find the people who came to support you. Jeno and Seokmin followed him.

“Donghyuk? He’s a nice guy.” Yoonah speaks up once he’s out of the way. She’s holding a small card in her hand. “Oh yeah, we’ve been dating for a couple months. He’s nice, do you know him?” Yoonah goes to answer but instead decides to shake her head. “My friends were friends with him, but they had a falling out.” “Ah– I see.” you come to the conclusion that the two were a part of the same friend group.

Yoonah looks down at your hands and notices Donghyuk’s bouquet of flowers. “I didn't know you liked hydrangeas too! They’re my favorite flowers, they're very peaceful. Theyre in the perfect arrangement, you know? the pinks match perfectly with the oranges and yellows.” You nod in agreement, but those aren’t your favorite flower, nor your favorite colors. Wooyoung walks up to you and tells you everyone's waiting. You say your farewells to Yoonah and leave with Donghyuk to the restaurant, Wooyoung and the others following behind.

Dinner went well, everyone had fun. You held hands with Donghyuk under the table. You notice him using his phone more than normal. You’d ask him about it later and just enjoy the presence of everyone for the rest of the day. In the end, You went home with Donghyuk. Wooyoung went back to your shared apartment. When you got home, the two of you immediately crashed in each other's arms. You both were very tired from the day.

It didn’t take long for you to be woken up by the many messages Donghyuk kept getting on his phone. Eventually you decided to grab the phone and look to see what was happening and for what reasons. You didn’t think you’d see him talking about Yoonah to his friends. Nor did you think you’d see that she was his ex. Nor that he had given her that card at graduation. Nor that he had been using you as a rebound this entire time to get over her. Which he hadn’t, he’s still in love with her.

You felt your world crumble. Like nothing more was left. The man sleeping next to you, had been leading you on and using you for a sense of closure. The man who promised to get a better job and live with you, and promised you a life you always wanted, lied. He lied to make things better for himself. At the same time, you can’t help but feel stupid. You believed it, your past relationships were the same way. You were too naive.

You knew there wasn't much you could do now. You can’t control his feelings. The best option was to take evidence of the conversation and leave. So that's exactly what you did. You screenshotted the messages and sent them to yourself. You checked around for more evidence of anything else. You found that he was texting Yoonah some days, saying he missed her. How you were not her.

You didn’t bother to wake him up. You grabbed your stuff and snuck out. It was around 1 am. You just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. You called Jeno to come get you, knowing he’d be awake. “Come on please pick up..” Your cheeks were stained with tears. The moment your heard Jeno’s quiet hello on the other line, the tears came back. “Can you come get me? I’m at Donghyuks apartment, I need to get out of here, please..'' There was silence but the sound of movement being heard on the other line. “Stay on the phone with me, I’ll be right there.”

You went back home to your apartment, Jeno stayed with you. Wooyoung heard the door open and went to the front, not expecting to see you. Once you saw your best friend, You completely broke in his arms. Babbling about what happened and what you saw. “It's not fair, why am I always the second choice? The rebound.” You cried in his arms. Wooyoung just kept telling you to let it out. Jeno stepped out to go get some snacks at the local convenience store, knowing it was going to be a long night.

“I loved him, woo. I thought he loved me too..” all the tears you were holding back with Jeno just all came out. You broke down completely. You never loved anyone as much as you loved Donghyuk. But he played you, and it hurt harder than ever. Wooyoung became silent as he held you.

When Jeno stepped back into the apartment, you were sitting with Wooyoung on the couch. Telling what you saw. “Are you sure?” Jeno came to you with your favorite snack, you took it out of his hands and pulled out your phone. A conversation between Donghyuk and his best friend, Seungkwan, displayed on the screen. “Yes, I’m sure. Even the flowers he bought me were connected to her.” “Did you confront him?” Wooyoung was silent the entire time, he just kept reading the messages. “No, I called you right away. I needed to just get out of there. I just don’t know what I'm gonna do, jen.” Wooyoung stopped reading and looked up at you and Jeno. “Break up with him, I told you from the start he was bad news.”

You hated to admit it, but Wooyoung was right. When you first met, he did give you off vibes but you thought that was just his demeanor. You sat in silence as Wooyoung got up and walked to your rooms to grab blankets. It was silent for a while until someone's phone started ringing. It was Jenos. He picked it up, it was Seokmin. “Doyoung caught what?” Jeno sighed. He turned to you with a sorrowful face. You could tell something happened. “Y/n I'm so sorry but my friend just got cheated–” “No no, that's far worse than mine. Please go comfort him, I have woo. I’ll be okay.” You stood up and hugged Jeno. The strong embrace of your cousin soothed your mind a bit. He grabbed his keys and took his leave.

“I think you should rest for the night. We’ll deal with Donghyuk tomorrow. Together. Okay? Power off your phone, I’ll put on a show or something and we’ll keep your mind off this.” Wooyoung kissed your head and walked over to the kitchen to grab something to drink. You sat on the couch. You stared at your phone, the background being you and Donghyuk smiling and giggling under the cherry blossom trees when they bloomed last spring. You shut your phone off.

When you woke up, Wooyoung was already gone for work. He works at a daycare nearby. Wooyoung was always so good with kids. He was destined to work with kids. It was 9:56 am. You took a deep breath and powered your phone back on. Immediately, You were hit with multiple messages.

Hyuk 💕: Hey babe you left without telling me

Hyuk 💕: where did you go?

Hyuk 💕: are you coming back?

Hyuk 💕: why did you leave?

Woo 🦊💛 : HEYY i left for work but when i come back we’re getting drinks. SO GET DRESSED.

Jen 🐶💙 : I’m so sorry i had to leave last night, i’ll come by later tonight to check on you

Jen 🐶💙 : Don’t worry, i didnt tell your mom :)

Jen 🐶💙 : things will get better, trust

The best option was to answer the most important one first. Donghyuk. You took a deep breath and swallowed back any tears that wanted to leave. It took you a while but you finally thought of something to say.

You : Please don’t contact me again. I know you were only using me as a rebound. You don’t have to keep pretending. You were only using me to get closure from Yoonah. I wish you would've just told me you didn't want anything serious with me beforehand.

Hyuk 💕: I’m coming over, I think it's better we talk about this in person.

You : No, I made up my mind. I think it's better for us to split.

With that you blocked his number. You had the rest of the day by yourself until wooyoung came back home around 6. You figured you could do something productive and go grocery shopping to take your mind off everything. You hopped in the shower and dressed in something comfortable, grabbing your keys and stepping out the house. Trying to calm your mind.

You left the house around 11, you spent the day out. Trying to be productive, there's no need to be hung over on a guy who obviously didn't have the same feelings. You bought things for the house, things for yourself, anything you could afford and felt like buying. When you finally got up and decided its time to go home, it was around 4:30. When you got back home, you saw a shadow standing outside your door. Banging on the door, You heard them call your name. “Y/n, come on, open the door.”

You approached the door and the man. It was Donghyuk. You had no words to say to him. You open the door and let him in. “What do you want, Donghyuk? We’re over, I told you that.” “I want to explain myself, it's not what it seems i promise.” You took a deep breath and decided to hear him out. “You have 10 minutes, I have to get ready for the night.”

“Get ready? For what? Are you seriously going out immediately after breaking up with me?” Donghyuk gave you this look of disgust, similar to the one Wooyoung gave you when you asked where he was at your graduation. “Does it matter? We aren’t together anymor–” “We’re not together anymore because you wanted this to be over. That's why you can’t keep a man because you don’t listen and hear them out.”

You stared at the man who just yesterday felt like the most lovable person. Now today he feels like a stranger. “Are you serious?” you stared at him dumbfounded. Things started to get more heated. “No shit im serious, without even hearing my end you're leaving me and going to– god knows where– tonight to find someone new.”

“Let's get one thing straight, I LOVED you. I told you that. I’ve never told anyone that. And repeatedly you told your friends that I am not Yoonah. That Yoonah was better.” The tears you were once choking back yesterday started to run down your cheeks. “And now you're trying to say it's my fault? Are you serious?”

“That's because it is. You weren’t her, and I was reminded every day about it. Maybe if you tried harder. That's why people cheat on you y/n, that's why people leave you.”

you bit your tongue and kept listening to him go off about how it was your fault. It was all your fault. it got to the point you started to question it yourself, was it your fault?

“You know what, I'm so glad we’re over. Maybe now you’ll realize why you can’t keep a man. I only kept you for so long because I needed someone to replace h–" "I think it's time you go.” Jeno stood in the doorway, staring daggers into Donghyuk.

“Yeah, okay.” Donghyuk stared at you one last time, almost proud of himself for making you cry. He shrugged past Jeno and took his leave. As soon as the door closed, you broke down. Jeno wrapped his arms around you and held you close to him.

You swore off dating since then, that was 2 years ago.

[goddevouringserpent]

WOTR Companions First and Final Impressions

taking the open tag @the-raging-tempest left over at Discord cause I really really wanted to do this hehehehe :3 it was very very fun, even if time-consuming, so I am open tagging anyone who wants to do it! (& please do feel free to tag me in it because I very much want to see 👀)

the first impressions match the first actual interaction my KCs had with the companions, for which I am using the first real dialogue they ever had; so, for example, although they both technically met Camellia at the Kenabres festival, I am counting the first meeting as being in the caves under Kenabres.

First impressions

Seelah

Irenni: "A spot of hope in the middle of so much destruction! You lighten my heart with your presence, lady knight."

Kaija: "Paladin of Iomedae, huh? Well, you don't seem as stuck-up as the rest of your kin, at least. Mind your own business, I'll mind mine, and we should get along fine."

Camellia

Irenni: "So poised and elegant... I'm surprised by how nonplussed you seem, but in all fairness, you look high-born, and I suppose nobles are taught to conceal their emotions."

Kaija: "Ugh. Do we really have to babysit this spoiled brat? Hope you actually know how to use that rapier of yours, pretty girl, 'cause I'm not sticking my neck out for you."

Lann

Irenni: "A valiant warrior with a noble heart, I can tell. 'Tis a pity you downplay your own worth with such ferocity."

Kaija: "I know your type. You hate who you are, don't you, underground crusader? Tale as old as time. Shed those chains already—they'll never see you like you want them to see you. We're all just horned freaks to the respectable folks."

Wenduag

Irenni: "You are so angry... We mean no harm to you or yours. Let us help, please. We can only save each other if we stick together!"

Kaija: "There's a shrewdness in you, isn't there? You're a clever one. A survivor. Dangerous. It's fine, I can work with that. You're nothing new to me, huntress."

Woljif

Irenni: "I hope I'm not making a mistake by helping you. You seem harmless enough, but that shadow... There's something wrong about it. Do you even know the nature of the magic you wield?"

Kaija: "A kindred spirit. You're the only one here who understands. I see it in your eyes. We have the same look, you and I, the same kind of dirt under our fingernails, the same bloodied teeth. I've got your back, for as long as this arrangement lasts—way things are, turning my back on you would be like turning my back on myself."

Ember

Irenni: "Oh, you sweet soul... 'tis fortunate Andoletta watches over you, but still—you should be somewhere safe, enjoying your childhood, not bearing witness to the horrors of war."

Kaija: "I can tell there's some sort of strength in you, but you've gotta toughen up, kid, or the world will chew you up and spit you out."

Daeran

Irenni: "You behave as though you knew exactly what to say in order to vex me, Count Arendae. I ought to chastise you for being so irresponsible and inconsiderate, but you would not care at all. And... truth be told, you are fascinating, in your own way. A weakness in me, perhaps. We shall see. In the meantime—make yourself useful."

Kaija: "Hello there, yet-another-noble-prick in the endless assortment of Mendevian noble pricks! At least you're fun to be around, I'll give you that. Maybe someday I'll crash one of your parties. You might even thank me for it."

Nenio

Irenni: "A fellow scholar! Oh, this is so exciting. I cannot even blame you for your... peculiarities; truly, all of us who share an interest for the academic can sympathize, to one degree or another. I do so look forward to trading theories with you."

Kaija: "Heard about people like you, here and there. Strange stories. Sad, often. Leave it to a genius to lose her mind—there's a certain irony in it. But I think we'll work well together, long as you follow my lead."

Galfrey

Irenni: "Everlight, I feel so inadequate. The Queen of Mendev! Here! Sitting at my table! It is a pleasure and an honour, Your Majesty, although I wish the circumstances were different... and I wish I were a bit more put-together for the occasion..."

Kaija: "Bah. Mendev's golden figurehead. Must feel good, to come marching in and have everyone prostrate themselves at your feet, even though you did absolutely jack shit. Don't expect any special treatment from me, Your Majesty. Far as I'm concerned, you're just some freeloader at our table."

Sosiel

Irenni: "A servant of the Eternal Rose is always welcome! I see a sincere kindness in your eyes that puts me at ease... and Sarenrae knows that is exactly what I need right now."

Kaija: "Nice to have another artist nearby. Not many of us here. And there's a steel in you, a fire. It burns low, more a simmer than anything else, but I can tell. I've been there. No wonder, after the losses you've experienced. You'll do fine. Channel that fire."

Regill

Irenni: "Hellknight, is it? Hmph. I guarantee you will disagree with my methods, Paralictor; I hope, for both our sakes, that you are still willing to obey my orders."

Kaija: "Credit where it's due, you're one hell of a fighter. Don't really mind the stick up your ass if we can use it in our favour. 'Sides, a little spot of pragmatism might do us some good in the long run. Tired of all the crusaders with their heads in the clouds."

Arueshalae

Irenni: "My heart reaches out to you, as yours does to mine. I am aware it is ill-advised to trust a succubus, but, as servants of good, ought we not embrace any demons who choose to leave behind the stain of evil and embark upon a different path? Is it not our duty to aid them in this difficult journey? I open my arms for you, Arueshalae, even if it means the death of me."

Kaija: "I should be suspicious, and yet... I heard you. I saw you. In the temple of Desna, and in the shrine. That... that can't just be a demonic trick, right? There are some things the Abyss can't touch. But an ascending succubus... Demons aren't capable of redemption. It isn't in their nature. It's what everyone says, isn't it? But... but maybe... Maybe there's a chance... Maybe, if you..."

Greybor

Irenni: "Why in the world would you refuse to address the demon invasion going on, but take on an assassination contract? I am astounded by the greed and selfishness involved in your thought process, but, most of all, I am baffled by your short-sightedness. There will be no gold to reclaim should the armies of the Abyss prevail, good sir."

Kaija: "'Go and get reinforcements from the Defender's Heart,' heh... You don't know who you're talking to, master assassin. Don't need help to kill these demons. Go ahead and take care of your mark—just don't get in my way. Wouldn't want ya to have your limbs cleaved off."

Parting thoughts

Seelah

Irenni: "What a joy, to have shared this fight with you. You have kept me steady, grounded in hope, and I am so glad to have done the same for you. Do not let anyone extinguish your spark. It is people like you that give our struggles meaning."

Kaija: "You've proven me wrong, time and time again. Never thought I'd be happy about that, but I guess there's always a first time for everything. It's been an honour fighting at your side, Seelah... And an even bigger honour drinking at your side!"

Camellia

Irenni: "I... I tried, Camellia. I really did. I would have helped you, if only you had been truthful. But in the end, I... I did what I had to do. I am not proud of it, but you forced my hand."

Kaija: "I keep telling myself it was for the best, and maybe one day I'll believe it. We would've ruined each other, beloved, you know that as well as I do. Better to stop when... when we still could. But that doesn't mean I've stopped loving you. I never will. You'll always have a part of me. Wherever you go, whatever you do... be safe. Think of me, from time to time. I'll think of you."

Lann

Irenni: "It is so good to see you happy, at long last. You deserve it—you always have. You have performed all your duties admirably, Lann, both towards the crusade and towards your people. Find comfort, now. Live the life you want. May your aim be ever true and steady, my friend."

Kaija: "You've got to let go, at some point. Move on. Bury it or it'll bury you."

Wenduag

Irenni: "I bear you no ill will. You were deeply wounded, I can tell that now, and my only regret is being unable to heal you. May you find peace in the afterlife."

Kaija: "Hasn't always been easy, because I'll be fucked if you don't like to make everything as hard as possible, but... Here we are. Looking at us from where we stand at the end, I can say I'm glad to have met you. Glad to know you. You've found your own power, your own strength, and—I respect you, for that. See myself in you a little bit. Who would've thought, huh?"*

Woljif

Irenni: "I am so, so proud of you, and deeply ashamed I ever doubted you. So many would have fallen prey to the temptation of demonic power, but you... I know it was what you had wanted all your life, and yet you found strength enough in yourself to refuse it! I am humbled by you, Woljif."

Kaija: "The light of my life. That's what you are. Can't say I believe in soulmates or none of that, but I do believe in choosing someone over and over, with your whole heart, every day of your life, and... Well, I'll keep choosing you, over and over, for as long as I draw breath. You've changed me, deep to my core, and once upon a time I would've fought against that—you would've had me kicking and screaming to get out, heh—but now I wouldn't have it any other way. Wouldn't have you any other way. I'm with you, dearest, 'til the end, through thick and thin. It's you and me."

Ember

Irenni: "Your kindness is brilliant, Ember. Blinding. I hardly understand it myself, and I have felt the touch of Heaven! I know you do not believe in divine intervention, but... I cannot, in good faith, claim our meeting to be a coincidence. Both of us, devoted to mercy and redemption and salvation... We are the company we keep, I suppose, but we are altogether too similar in ideals for it to not mean something. I shall be pleased to accompany you further, should our paths meet again."

Kaija: "First time in my life I've ever been so thankful for someone getting their thoughts in order. You were heading down a bad road, kid. Putting yourself in danger. And—d'you think I could've lived with myself if I'd let you and you'd gotten killed because of it? I know it feels bad to have to temper your expectations, but you'll thank me later."

Daeran

Irenni: "Ah, my love, what I wouldn't do for you. We have not had an easy time of it, have we? A rocky beginning, a middle fraught with difficulties and obstacles... We have been our own worst enemies, in truth. But there is not a single thing that I would change. I am honoured to love you and to have you love me; to know you and to have you know me. I am so fortunate that you have chosen to trust me with your life, your heart, your freedom, even. I will keep you safe, no matter what it takes. You can rest lightly in my hands—I promise. You will never regret letting me love you."

Kaija: "Not too proud to admit I misjudged you. I mean, in a sense I had your measure as soon as I met you, knew exactly what kinda person I was dealing with, but in another sense, you've surprised me. Never thought I'd find a real friend in you. My best friend, even. Life's full of little jokes and twists, isn't it? I think we can both drink to that, and not just because we'll take any excuse to drink. So—here's to your health, Count."

Nenio

Irenni: "I... I don't understand. Why would you ever want... What led you to... to make the choices you made? You are worth more than that, Nenio. I pray it is not too late for you."

Kaija: "Somehow what's going on with you is less outlandish than what I thought was going on with you. It's fine. Seems like a lot, but you'll pull through, if you really want to. I believe you can."

Galfrey

Irenni: "You carry your burdens, and I carry mine. I neither envy nor resent you. Let us part in peace. I wish you well, Galfrey of Mendev."

Kaija: "Fool. If you keep holding your chin up, your neck'll snap. We're not on even footing anymore—I've long since surpassed ya, and you know it. Write a letter to your goddess if you're so mad about it."

Sosiel

Irenni: "It is good to see you have healed. You were teetering on the edge of something so grim, far from the light of Shelyn, and although I had faith in your ability to remain steadfast, I worried for you, Sosiel. Yet you have so gracefully recovered from the blows life dealt you. A soul as gentle and good as yours deserves nothing but that, my friend."

Kaija: "I know it wasn't what you expected, but did good. Kept your spine straight when it counted. Didn't back down. Opened your eyes. So that closure you got, Sosiel, those answers—that was all you, in the end. It was your actions that saved both of you. Take pride in that."

Regill

Irenni: "We have not always seen eye to eye... quite the opposite, in fact... but in the end, I am glad to have fought alongside you, Regill Derenge. I think, in better times, we could have been friends, but war can make strangers of us all."

Kaija: "Surprised at how well we work together. Or maybe not. It's all in the fighting mettle, after all—we're warriors through and through, and I guess even through our differences we could recognise that in each other. Steel calls to steel. I respect you, Regill, and I'm pretty sure the feeling's mutual. Wouldn't be where you are now if it weren't, yeah?"

Arueshalae

Irenni: "There are too many things I should have told you, too many things I should tell you... but now is not the time. Later, once we are free. Then I will... Everlight's mercy, I just need you to know how deeply I care for you, how much I treasure and cherish and admire you, how badly I want to—augh, later, Irenni, later!"**

Kaija: "You say that I saved you, that you owe me so much, but c'mon, Arue, don't sell yourself short: you saved me every bit as much as I saved you. A mutual thing, yeah? Pulled each other outta the Abyss. I'm so proud of you, sister, and so grateful for everything you've done."

Greybor

Irenni: "Truthfully, I was not expecting you to take my advice to heart, and I am pleasantly surprised you have chosen to do so. I wish you an uneventful life, Greybor. Enjoy every moment."

Kaija: "A professional, through and through. We did some good work together. You've a... productive future ahead of you, I'm sure—who knows, maybe I'll require your services sometime, hah."

*Kaija's parting answer for Wenduag is largely a placeholder because this is my first time recruiting Wendu (I'd wanted to before, but I couldn't rationalise how/why Kai would, until now) & I am still figuring out their dynamic. however, I feel there might be... Something there. as in, the inklings of a very interesting ship dynamic. and I can never say no to toxic yuri, it's my kryptonite, soooo I am just kinda leaving that reply there for now lol

**Irenni romances Arueshalae, but only after the game ends. during the events of the game itself she's too busy dealing with her feelings towards Daeran to even try and address her feelings towards Arue. they are very much present, Irenni just... sets them aside, for the time being, because she already has enough on her plate emotions-wise as-is LOL but after everything is done, they become an item :3

[the-raging-tempest]

pragma + 2, agape + 5, & eros + 3 for the 'seven forms of love' ask game, pls ! 👀

Sam! Sorry it took me forever. The sickness and also these ended up as ones I really had to chew on. Really good questions for Lariel. She's also a character that's more internal rather than external. So I hope I answered these and explained them okay haha. 💕💕

What is the biggest challenge that your OC has had to overcome in a long-term relationship or friendship? What helped them get through this?

I totally misunderstood this question. So know I had paragraphs typed only to realize half way through I read this completely wrong LMAO

I had to think about this one for a long time. This one had me a bit stumped. Because really I’m not certain she has ‘overcome’ the challenges in the way I think other people can understand easily.

A lot of the challenges Lariel faces in her relationships (until she escapes her family) really have to do with others not listening nor respecting her autonomy, feelings, or boundaries. And the problem with the people she’s dealing with in particular is that, they don’t want to change. They don’t want a relationship that is equal or respectful. 

So her overcoming the challenge is not her forcing others to respect her. It’s realizing they won’t. And that she HAS to escape and leave them behind. That there is no way to make them understand her. Because they don’t want to. That includes her family and her fiancé. 

And not in the moment but in retrospect her relationship to Venan made her more cautious and aware of others using her. It doesn’t stop her from being kind or caring. She just knows that there’s always a risk that someone will use her sincerity and naivety against her. So she tries to balance her eagerness with caution. Often why she kind of acts like an outsider. Offers kindness at a distance. A watcher. She’s wanting to see what people are like before she offers up her heart.

Does your OC find it easy to empathize with their enemies? Or do they see it as important to dehumanize them in order to combat them with sufficient determination?

Lariel does find it easy to empathize with her enemies, but this is also another brain scratcher. I'll do my best to articulate. She is hyper aware that her own experience is limited. At times she's down right embarrassed and self-conscious of it. There's an understanding that while she has had a very lonely life, that she was not treated with love or kindness, that she struggled, there are other's who never had the luxuries she did. She's lost control of her own magic before. She understands what it's like to not have autonomy. She's been at the mercy of others. She emphasizes that not everyone has the privilege of choice.

Fundamentally she does want to understand why people act the way they do, or how they rationalize their actions. That doesn't mean it changes what she ends up doing. Her quiet kind of being stubborn. She may believe she's not much, but she knows only she can look out for herself. No one else will. Because that's been true her whole life. Not that she won't look out for others. Quite the opposite. She does, just often she doesn't want them to know. She doesn't want them to feel any debt towards her kindness.

She holds guilt, for acting in her own interests, her own joy. Because it always seems to come at such a great cost. But it's all she can do to survive in her own way.

How do they feel about public displays of romantic affection? Does it make them uncomfortable?How do they feel if a romantic partner kisses them in public?

This one is so cute. I know I joke about it a lot, Lariel is the kind of person to go bright red. And she might SEEM uncomfortable. But she does love displays of affection. Yes, even public ones. She's shy and doesn't like to draw attention to herself, but that is easily overridden by being shown genuine affection or love. As embarrassed or uncomfortable she is with attention it doesn't mean she'd stop someone's show of true reciprocated feelings. I'm of the mindset that you can be made uncomfortable by something new, but that doesn't mean that's bad! It's just new for her! But she'd love it. Covering her face and stuttering but love it 💕💕

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

The Man From Y.I.L.I.N.G.

Chapter 3: "A Rough Day All Around"

There's some research for this chapter as well that I'll post about in about half an hour after this like the last. Remember, if you want to see the footnotes integrated into the fic directly, that's how it's structured over on AO3 😌 (I worked very hard on formatting those and I'm very proud, can you tell?)

--//--

LANE CRAWFORD LUXURY DEPARTMENT STORE — HONG KONG

“I don’t understand.”

Jin Guangyao keeps a sigh tucked in his chest, but only because Lan Xichen has been nothing but extremely nice to him, even when he’d been under extreme stress and they’d both thought they’d never see each other again anyway. But this is also at least the fifth time he’s said he doesn’t understand just this afternoon alone, and Jin Guangyao’s patience for people (even very nice, extremely handsome people) is not as infinite as it seems.

“Which part?”

Lan Xichen looks up at him from where he’s been staring down at himself, dressed in new suit (without a single cardigan in sight, thank you very much) and standing on a little round platform in front of a three-paneled mirror to see himself from several angles. Around them a few shopgirls bustle to and fro finding ever-more pieces to bring for Lan Xichen to try on at Jin Guangyao’s direction, and for the past few hours he’s been trying not to feel any sort of particular way about the fact that Lan Xichen always thanks them softly with kind smiles (even though he also clearly wishes they would stop bringing him clothing he doesn’t seem to like).

“Ah…I realize I have been repeating myself, I apologize,” he demurs. Jin Guangyao raises an eyebrow (people never apologize, and certainly not to him). “It’s just that…the Jin have really decided to ally with the Wen? Openly?”

“For now, at least. Yes.”

“Mm.” Lan Xichen turns back to the mirror; in the left-hand reflection Jin Guangyao can see he looks…conflicted.

“It just doesn’t seem very likely, you must understand. And I must say I still don’t see exactly how I fit into all of this; my family has been involved in very little save rebuilding our home since just after the war.”

Jin Guangyao, who has definitely explained Lan Xichen’s role in all of this at least twice since he retrieved the man from Mo Xuanyu at the harbor this morning, leans back into his chair and crosses one leg over the other, the movement masking the little sigh he can no longer care about keeping contained.

“I know it seems unlikely, and I admit I was as surprised as you. However, that is what’s happened, which should give you an indication of just how important it is that we find your brother and stop the Yiling Laozu’s plans. As for how you fit into it — you say you haven’t seen him in years, but Lan Wangji is still your brother, and you’re our best hope of getting to him quickly, especially if he’s in danger. You’re also our best hope of speaking to your uncle, who is notoriously difficult to reach but has been seen in contact with the Jiang, who we think may have been secretly helping the Yiling Laozu in much more than just the capture of your brother. You’ll be able to help us find out for certain, and in doing so find your brother, get him to safety, and prevent the nuclear death of the planet. Everybody wins.”

Lan Xichen blinks at him a few times in the mirror, perhaps ever so slightly overwhelmed. To be fair, he supposes it’s not every day a former scholar turned music teacher is asked to commit espionage amongst his own family in order to prevent an all-out international nuclear war. It must be quite a bit to take in.

Lan Xichen blinks furiously as he tugs too hard at the lapels of the suit jacket Jin Guangyao had chosen for him as if he can’t get it to settle correctly on his (surprisingly) broad shoulders. “And when this is over?” he asks as he fusses. “Am I to hide again? I made a decent life for myself out of necessity in Yunping, but I have no interest in going back behind that Wall, not even for my own safety. Will you show me my family after so long only to force me away from them again after I’ve served your father’s purposes?”

For a moment, Jin Guangyao marvels at how similar he would have been to Lan Xichen if they’d only met a few years earlier. How much he would once have given (has given, is giving) in order to not have to be parted from his family, no matter the circumstances. He isn’t sure how happy it makes him any longer, but he’s in too deep now to be comfortable with thinking about that too hard.

“You’re the lynchpin in this whole plan,” Jin Guangyao says to cover his momentary (and throughly unwelcome) introspection. His eyes flicker over to Nie Mingjue just stepping into the luxurious private consultation area they’re currently occupying and he spares a thought to acknowledge, with a sense of foreboding, that this is most likely about to go downhill quicker than he can prevent it, but ultimately keeps his focus on the conversation at hand. “Without you, our hands would be tied. When this is over, you won’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to. I promise.”

“My man would never wear that.”

Jin Guangyao lets out another sigh, perfectly audible this time, and covers his eyes to allow himself a moment or two to lament his…partner’s (ugh) shattering lack of tact when Lan Xichen is clearly two seconds away from bolting right out the door to begin with.

“Your man?” Lan Xichen repeats, affronted. “A-Yao, what is he doing here?”

“As we were just discussing — we are working with the Wens.” Jin Guangyao dares to open his eyes to find Nie Mingjue standing too close to Lan Xichen (read: looming over him), eyes burning in that eerily intense way he seems to look at anybody and anything in his way. “More specifically Wen Ruohan’s pet giant, the Red Blade himself.”

Nie Mingjue ignores him in favor of looking Lan Xichen up and down in a way that makes the man’s ears turn bright red even as his expression twists up into deeper offense at being so clearly found wanting by the time Nie Mingjue’s gaze is once again on his face.

“And why did he call me his man?”

“Because I am now your fiancé.”

Jin Guangyao has a warning smile on his face that many marks have seen in their final moments on this earth, but Nie Mingjue just raises an eyebrow back at him in a silent challenge he obviously knows Jin Guangyao is in no position to rise to. Lan Xichen glances between the two of them sharply before he laughs a hollow sort of disbelieving thing and takes a step back, hands raised to shoulder height in surrender, or perhaps refusal.

“No. Absolutely not. No, no-no,” he says, still laughing, still smiling but seeming more…hysterical than any flavor of amused. He shrugs off the suit jacket Jin Guangyao had put him in and takes the (incredibly expensive) watch off his wrist with enough vigor that Jin Guangyao nearly winces for the sake of the leather wristband. He lets both of them drop unceremoniously to the floor, whips his tie off with a yank and the whisper-soft slither of silk against starched cotton to drop it on the unoccupied loveseat in the seating area Jin Guangyao has been lounging in — and heads straight for the door.

“Oh well done,” Jin Guangyao drawls as he stands from his velvet armchair and buttons his jacket on his way across the consultation area. “Stay here, I’ll bring him back.” He swats Nie Mingjue’s chest on his way past him to follow Lan Xichen’s path out to the street.

Lan Xichen mercifully hasn’t gone far on those long legs of his, just down to the curb to stand with his hands on his hips as he stares down at his feet and takes a few deep, too-fast breaths. Jin Guangyao feels a slight pang of pity. He’s aware that this isn’t an easy task they’ve set for him, but he’s maybe grown a bit too used to doing what needs to be done, no matter the personal cost to himself. Lan Xichen’s perfectly understandable reactions are a decent reminder that what they do every day is…stressful, to say the least.

“Huan-ge,” he calls, hoping the use of the too-familiar nickname will help startle his companion out of his frustration. “I can explain.”

Lan Xichen looks up from his study of the pavement (or perhaps the designer shoes Jin Guangyao had selected for him) to stare him down instead, his gaze a desperate challenge, as if whatever Jin Guangyao says to soothe him will be the only thing that he can stand to hear.

“The engagement is just your cover. He’s an architect who’s been commissioned to design a new resort for Wen Ruohan’s favorites back in Qishan. Wen Ruohan has a fondness for old-world grandeur and would like to send your man in there to study the remaining traditional structures in Yiling for the project. Mingjue has also secured permission to bring along his fiancé —” Jin Guangyao gestures at Lan Xichen in a way that also encompasses the very nice suit Jin Guangyao is attempting to get him to accept “— and of course while everyone conveniently happens to be in the same area you would want to introduce him to your Uncle Qiren, who you haven’t seen in such a long time.”

Lan Xichen’s gaze doesn’t waver but it does…soften ever so slightly, though it’s clear he’s still not thrilled about any of this. Not that Jin Guangyao would expect him to be, either. It’s not like he’d be jumping at the chance to call Nie Mingjue his fiancé if their positions were reversed, no matter what it would net him in the end.

“And your cover? You’re coming as well, are you not?”

“Ah of course —— Meng Yao, arts and antiquities dealer,” Jin Guangyao replies with a sweeping gesture at himself and a pasted-on smile, though a tiny part of him is genuinely pleased that Lan Xichen sort of seems like he’s hoping Jin Guangyao will be tagging along. “The Jiang siblings have managed to establish one of the best collections in China in the years they’ve been busy rebuilding their fortune, and I’d like to take a look at it. They’re currently in Yiling paying a visit to some of their waterfront shipping and storage facilities, so I’ll be looking to get in contact with them there when they’re not so busy as they are in Yunmeng.”

Lan Xichen takes a deep breath in and looks away, glancing across the street to watch the rest of the world pass them by for a long moment before he meets Jin Guangyao’s eyes again.

“You are asking quite a lot of me,” he says quietly, achingly earnest. Jin Guangyao can count the number of people capable of softening his heart on one hand; he’s not entirely sure how he feels about Lan Xichen adding himself to the list so easily.

“It’ll be alright,” he reassures with a softness he hasn’t heard from himself in…quite some time. “You’ll do fine, I know it.”

Lan Xichen takes another deep breath in, flicks another quick glance at the rest of the street, and then he nods and gestures for Jin Guangyao to return inside ahead of him so he can hold the door. Jin Guangyao feels completely and utterly normal about even that small glimpse of chivalry being aimed at him, of all people.

The soft feeling lasts approximately forty-two seconds by his estimation, right until they make it back to the little private alcove to find Nie Mingjue surrounded by all three shopgirls assigned to help them, each of them holding out various pieces so clearly out of Lan Xichen’s comfort zone that Jin Guangyao wonders who the hell Nie Mingjue thinks he’s shopping for.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jin Guangyao demands. No one looks intimidated by the ice in his voice, and normally that just wouldn’t do. Unfortunately, this is not exactly the sort of situation where he can justify pulling out a knife for an extra bit of intimidation, so he just bites the inside of his cheek and keeps his most dangerous smile in place with military precision.

Nie Mingjue doesn’t look up from the fitted qipao-inspired blouse he’s studying as he remarks, casually as you please, “Your taste is terrible, I’ll take over from here.”

“My taste is fine,” Jin Guangyao argues, ignoring the fact that if he has to argue it out loud that would typically imply the opposite. Nie Mingjue is just trying to irritate him, and damn him it’s working. “Who will ever believe that  a Lan has decided to experiment with pushing the boundaries of acceptable fashion? Especially Xichen, whose wardrobe consists entirely of standard issue trousers and cardigans?”

Nie Mingjue lays the shirt back down across one girl’s arms and turns to the next in line to pick up the matching trousers she’s holding, soft flowing things in pastel blue with a structured, fitted waist, strong front pleats that disappear into the soft fall of extra fabric just above the knee, and fashionably modern, geometric blocks of white over the deep hip pockets. It’s a jarring mix of old and new, and Jin Guangyao turns to gauge Lan Xichen’s reaction only to be dismayed to find him looking intrigued — a far cry from how uncomfortable he’d looked in Jin Guangyao’s choices.

Fucking bastard. (Nie Mingjue, not Lan Xichen.) (He’s already unfortunately endeared enough to Lan Xichen that he doesn’t actually want to think unkind things about him, which means it’s already far too late and Lan Xichen has no choice but to be added to the extremely short list of people Jin Guangyao would genuinely protect with his life.)

(Nie Mingjue is not on the list and is therefore free game to be the subject of whatever vitriol Jin Guangyao pleases.)

Nie Mingjue collects both the trousers and blouse to push them into Lan Xichen’s unresisting arms, his assessing gaze intense enough that Lan Xichen takes what looks like an automatic step back for a bit of space.

“Go put these on and come back, I’ll have accessories for you.”

Lan Xichen looks only mildly less put-out than before, but he does as he’s instructed and disappears into the curtained changing room without further complaint.

“What are you doing? I had everything handled,” Jin Guangyao grouses the moment they’re alone, snagging a string of pearls off a tray from the last girl’s arms to go over them with a critical eye, though he replaces the strand when he spots an imperfection in one just to the left of the center.

“You’re dressing him like an American.”

“And what’s so bad about that?” Jin Guangyao pins a smile in place and fixes Nie Mingjue with a look that he can only hope feels like he’s burning a hole through the man’s ridiculously thick skull.

Nie Mingjue looks down his nose at him like he’s a piece of gum on the sole of his Italian leather wingtips. “We are not American.”

“And that for some reason precludes a well-to-do, well-traveled ‘couple’ such as yourselves from dressing in the latest American fashions? Theirs is inspired by ours anyway!”

Nie Mingjue glares at him outright this time in the way his face always sort of looks, though Jin Guangyao will reluctantly acknowledge that he can read a hint of disdain in his general air of pissiness as well. How unfortunate, that he’s already reached the point of being able to translate the brute’s stupid face. Horrible, all of this is just the worst thing to happen to him — and he’s including the war and Italian prison in that list!

“The Americans copy the Europeans first and foremost, and not particularly well. Xichen should be dressed in the latest fashions here if he’s on my arm, I’ve never sold myself to the West and my partner should dress to reflect that. Besides — I can afford the best for my fiancé, he won’t need to be confined to your boring cheap suits with a disgustingly expensive watch to signal your ‘wealth’. Go do something else useless, I’ll dress him myself or else no one would ever believe we are engaged.”

Jin Guangyao, naturally, bristles at such a rude dismissal and soundly refuses to obey it. Nie Mingjue shoots him another dirty look, but then he’s too busy looking through the next round of accessories the shop attendants have brought them to make too much noise about Jin Guangyao sticking annoyingly close to his side to pass comment on whatever he damn well pleases, thank you very much.

“That doesn’t match,” he points out when Nie Mingjue has a leather belt stretched across his palms, examining the finish of it and the style of the buckle. (It’s at least an appropriately pale shade of tan, but he will not be acknowledging his lukewarm approval out loud, thank you very much.) Jin Guangyao sees a muscle in Nie Mingjue’s jaw jump and smirks to himself, adding a tally to his own column on the mental scoreboard he’s running.

“It does not have to match. It’s a complementary accessory and will match the others, not the entire outfit. Your dull monochromes look ridiculous and unimaginative, a wealthy creative’s fiancé would never be so…pedestrian.”

“Oh good lord,” Lan Xichen sighs. Jin Guangyao turns sharply to take a look at him and he will not admit that the qipao-inspired set is actually…lovely. Really lovely. How unfair. “You two are ridiculous, it’s a belt!”

“Clothes make or break a disguise, particularly where we’re going. It matters,” Nie Mingjue dismisses his protest with a wave of one enormous hand. He selects the belt, a set of leather suspenders, a watch, a necklace (not the flawed pearls), and a set of (admittedly tasteful) clip earrings from the tray held out to him by the shopgirl before he turns to put it all on Lan Xichen with brusque efficiency. If he sees the way Lan Xichen’s ears turn pink to be manhandled so casually he makes no acknowledgment of it (a good thing, considering how easily spooked Lan Xichen still seems to be).

“Where are we going, exactly? I know Yiling, but…where?” Lan Xichen asks as he fiddles with the unfamiliar weight of one of the earrings, very pointedly looking up and away from where Nie Mingjue has a hand half-in his trousers to button the suspenders to the inner lining of the waistband. Jin Guangyao wonders if it’s weird for him to be fighting a bitter battle against the urge to bite Nie Mingjue’s fingers clean off. Preferably while they’re still offending the sanctity of Lan Xichen’s narrow waist.

To distract himself from the uncomfortably vivid thought, he replies, “There is an extremely exclusive boating event being hosted by the Jiang siblings on the stretch of river between Yunmeng and Yiling, high society invitees only. Your uncle will have no choice but to attend considering his presence in Yiling isn’t a secret, so we must also go. We expect there will be no reason your uncle won’t invite you and your new fiancé as well once he’s made aware that you’re in the city.”

“My uncle has never been a man for social engagement no matter the pressures of others, particularly not those engagements that are a blatant excuse to get drunk in the middle of the day. What makes you so certain that he will break his decades-long habits to attend?”

“The little snake has good informants,” Nie Mingjue replies (it’s the first halfway-positive thing he’s said about the Jins, so of course it had to also be half-insult) and leans back to look Lan Xichen over again, now that he seems to be finished barreling right through any concept of boundaries or personal space. Jin Guangyao hates that Lan Xichen looks stunning, his already-slender waist made even trimmer by the deeply flared cut of his trousers, his broad shoulders somehow both softened and accentuated by the purely-decorative suspenders (there’s no way those trousers are sliding down when they’re that snug around his hips).

Nie Mingjue turns to look back at Jin Guangyao over his shoulder after a moment with an eyebrow raised as if to say, See? I fucking told you so. What he actually says is, “He looks better like this, even someone as tasteless as you must see it. I don’t think we’ll be needing you at all,” which is really just the same thing in a different flavor, the bastard.

Jin Guangyao fights back another urge to bite him and smiles instead.

“I’ll leave you to it, then. See you both in Yiling,” he says in parting with a half-bow and a step back towards the door. Lan Xichen looks briefly like he wants to say something, but Jin Guangyao turns on his heel to get out of there before he can. He’s got a flight to catch in his father’s private jet, and because Mo Xuanyu loves him, when Jin Guangyao arrives at the tarmac just off the harbor he’s greeted with a little bottle of the most expensive rice wine Jin Guangshan’s bottomless coffers can buy first, and a verbal greeting second.

“You look tired, Yao-ge,” Mo Xuanyu says as he gets settled in up in the cockpit and Jin Guangyao sinks gratefully into the buttery soft leather seat nearest the galley so they can chat over the ‘com.

“You always say that,” he reminds his brother. Jin Guangyao promptly decides to forgo propriety in favor of drinking a few sips of his wine straight from the bottle; it’s not as if Mo Xuanyu cares about propriety anyway, and they’re the only ones here.

“It’s true every time, too. Seatbelt, ge.”

Jin Guangyao does as he’s asked with a heavy sigh and another swig of his wine, barely registering the sound of Mo Xuanyu rattling off their call sign to air traffic control and requesting clearance for their chosen route back to the Mainland. He closes his eyes as Mo Xuanyu begins taxiing down the runway, the high roar of the engines a comforting background noise that lulls him to sleep before they’ve even taken off.

-... .-. . .- -.-

Nie Mingjue runs a critical eye over Lan Xichen one more time before he steps in closer to turn him in a slow circle with guiding hands around his waist, which the man submits to with a hint of reluctance. Nie Mingjue generously decides not to comment on the fact that he still looks a little..warm around the tips of his ears.

“Much better,” he says, and he means it. Jin Guangyao seems to have a typical Jin’s horrendous taste (the ‘it doesn’t matter what something looks like so long as it’s expensive’ kind of taste – Nie Mingjue strongly disagrees), but he was easy enough to get rid of, so at least Lan Xichen won’t look like a complete travesty. “Yes, I like this,” he adds once Lan Xichen is facing him again, clearly more comfortable in this outfit than the first, though he seems to be trying very hard to act like he’s not. “But it’s missing…” Nie Mingjue digs into his pocket for the diamond ring he’d picked up from a high-end jeweler down the street before he’d joined the others. He drops it into Lan Xichen’s palm, his fingers curled around the fine bones of his wrist easily overlapping each other, and he catches a flinch of defiance on Lan Xichen’s handsome face before he resigns himself to the inevitable.

“Now we are engaged,” he says for good measure, and he doesn’t miss the way Lan Xichen’s gaze flickers to the door for a split second before he looks up at him again, apparently at least willing to play along for now.

“Congratulations,” one of the shopgirls offers from where she’s waiting beside the dais in the middle of the paneled mirrors to see if they need anything else. Nie Mingjue is startled into smiling ever so slightly at her boldness as he turns to glance down at her, nearly two full heads shorter than him.

“Thank you,” he smirks as out of the corner of his eye he sees Lan Xichen slip the ring onto the third finger of his left hand.

... -.-. . -. . / -... .-. . .- -.-

监理处 LUXURY RESORT — YILING

There is, in Yiling, precisely one area where a Wen agent can reasonably be assured that they’re safe enough from attracting unwanted attention.

Or at least that was the case in the years before the Yiling Laozu decided to claim the city for his own.

The old Wen Supervisory Office — now turned luxury hotel and frequented mostly by Wens in name or allegiance — sits just beyond the fringes of the oldest district that has become the Yiling Laozu’s main stomping ground, though the entire city is naturally under his purview. No matter how many times Nie Mingjue tells Wen Ruohan that his last ‘stronghold’ in Yiling is no longer much of a haven, though, his boss never knows how to listen. These days Nie Mingjue tends to keep the reminder that he knows more than a thing or two about defense and battle lines behind his teeth in favor of avoiding punishment as he goes along with whatever stupid outdated scheme Wen Ruohan cooks up, considering he can fight his way out of any trouble easily enough anyway.

But being able to fight his own way out of trouble doesn’t help him feel any less protective of Lan Xichen at his side as they stride into the lobby of the resort, a porter carting their bags in behind them. All it takes is one sharp glance from a couple of hard-looking men (lounging like the apex predators they are in a plush seating area to the left of the doors) for him to loop an arm around Lan Xichen’s silk-clad waist to keep him close and make it clear to anyone watching that he’s not the easy target he may seem to be.

“Mingjue?” Lan Xichen asks, and at least he’s sensible enough to keep his voice down as they don’t break their stride across the lavishly decorated lobby. (Nie Mingjue remains convinced that it’s only thanks to the strength of both Wen Ruohan’s and the Yiling Laozu’s violent reputations that the place hasn’t been burnt to the ground by an angry mob yet in the name of Revolution.)

“Not here.”

Lan Xichen’s tendency to dig his heels in has apparently been left with his old clothes in the department store back in Hong Kong; he simply tucks himself closer with a stealthy glance around the lobby and lets himself be shepherded up to the check-in counter without a fuss.

The clerk they approach in the last spot at the end is one that Nie Mingjue knows from previous assignments, though he hadn’t heard that she’d been moved to Yiling. He supposes he’s not the only piece on Wen Ruohan’s chessboard, so he simply offers her a nod that she returns with a perfectly bland smile and, wisely, no use of his name while he begins checking them in, not with so many curious ears around.

“Welcome to the Supervisory Hotel, sir. You and your fiancé—” great, so everyone’s been briefed then. Nie Mingjue wishes he could roll his eyes without risking their cover “—have been put in suite 191 for your stay. Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“Our bags to our room and a breakfast order placed for the morning, early as you can: one of everything on the menu and a few pots of tea — jasmine, green, and black.”

“Yes sir. Enjoy your evening.”

Nie Mingjue offers another nod and Lan Xichen murmurs a smiling, “Thank you, guniang,” at his side, unfailingly polite in a way that sort of makes Nie Mingjue’s skin crawl, though he’s learning quickly that he’s just genuinely like that. He hadn’t known that people could be so purposefully polite without any ulterior motive, but here they are.

He hands Lan Xichen one room key and pockets his own while the porter sorts out their bags and steers Lan Xichen around to head back down the length of the lobby — and mere yards from the doors they pass Jin Guangyao just arriving, his gaze flicking to them briefly as they approach. Nie Mingjue, naturally, gives him no more attention that he would anyone else in this lobby, but he feels Lan Xichen perk up where he’s still tucked up against his side. 

It’s the only warning he gets before Lan Xichen says (thankfully quietly), “A-Yao?”

Jin Guangyao, for all that Nie Mingjue really wants nothing to do with him, is…alright fine, he’s good at what he does. He doesn’t even spare them a second glance as he saunters right past them into the lion’s den between the atrium and the check-in desk with his head held high, but Lan Xichen actually turns in his arms to watch him until Nie Mingjue jostles him a little more abruptly than necessary to get his attention back where it belongs.

Lan Xichen thankfully faces forward again and doesn’t say anything else, though he radiates displeasure at his side. His hope that the one-sided exchange was too quick to catch unwanted attention is quickly dashed; just as they reach the entryway Nie Mingjue feels more than sees the men who’d watched them enter stand up, and as he pushes through the glass-and-gold doors out into the evening air he resigns himself to the fact that Lan Xichen is apparently someone who’s going to make his job harder than it needs to be, that’s just all there is to it.

He ignores the tingle at the back of his neck from their new hangers-on in favor of leading Lan Xichen down the front steps of the resort and across the street into the bustling warren of the city; hopefully the crowds will buy them some breathing room.

Yiling is a thriving city, in its own right. It lacks the polish and grandeur of Lanling or Qishan, the (former) steady industrial thrum of centuries of mining and smithcraft in Qinghe, or the hustle and bustle of the waterway trade in Yunmeng, but there’s still an undeniable spark to it, a life that hurries on around them in rhythms they don’t quite fit into as the outsiders that they are. Nie Mingjue releases Lan Xichen’s waist in favor of taking him by the hand to better navigate the narrow, crowded alleyways and streets bustling with evening activity on the way to their destination, and though Lan Xichen follows along willingly it only takes a few turns before he gives Nie Mingjue’s hand a curious little tug.

“Mingjue wait — where are we going?”

Nie Mingjue glances back at him just in time to tug him close to keep him from getting run over by a cyclist carting a massive basket overflowing with some crop he can’t identify in the low light. Lan Xichen stumbles ever so slightly and catches himself with both hands on Nie Mingjue’s chest as the cyclist passes them by with the low whizz of his narrow tires. When Nie Mingjue glances down at his hands with a pointed raise of one eyebrow Lan Xichen looks slightly abashed…but he doesn’t seem in a hurry to remove them, either. That’s fair enough, he supposes, considering he’d had his hands stuck under the waist of Lan Xichen’s trousers just a few hours ago. Turnabout’s fair play and all that.

Considering Lan Xichen seems content to stay where he is, Nie Mingjue does his level best to not be distracted by the way Lan Xichen is only a few inches shorter than him (a comfortable height for kissing, his traitorous mind notes) as he finally answers the man’s question. “We’re going where any architect visiting Yiling would go: to see the sights.” 

“Mn.” Lan Xichen glances around at the thoroughly unimpressive alleyway they’re standing in and gives Nie Mingjue a look that somehow manages to convey how little he thinks of these particular ‘sights’, but there’s a tiny hint of a smile hovering at the corner of his lips that Nie Mingjue has to put genuine effort into not returning. That’s..new.

“Not these sights. Other ones. Better ones.”

Lan Xichen hums again, definitely amused this time, and slides his hands ever so slightly up Nie Mingjue’s chest towards his shoulders. He can’t help but notice that Lan Xichen is actually smiling now, a gentle thing that somehow lights up his whole face.

Nie Mingjue reminds himself very forcefully that he doesn’t actually care if they have a nice time tonight; it’s not a date, it’s reconnaissance. Because they are on a mission and mere days ago Lan Xichen was his mark, not his..accomplice. For lack of a better word. (Lan Xichen’s hands [and his face and his waist and his general everything] are too distracting for him to think of anything better.)

“Mingjue?”

“Hm?”

“I believe if we wish to see anything worthwhile before it grows too late we may actually need to…keep walking.”

Nie Mingjue does not flush, his neck just suddenly gets a little warm under the high collar of his sweater. He steps back out of Lan Xichen’s too-close proximity and straightens out his ubiquitous leather jacket as if the other man’s light touch on his shoulders could be enough to ruck it up out of line. Lan Xichen’s hand is warm in his as he continues the way they’d been going, heading for the blaze of lights at the opposite end of the alley. His hand is unfairly pleasant to hold, and Nie Mingjue lets himself indulge in focusing mostly on that sensation of it for the length of time it takes them to get to the next street, where he actually has to pay attention in order to take a route that he hopes will buy them some extra time before their pursuers catch up to them.

The route takes them to a public garden just inside the gates of the oldest district of the city, tucked neatly between the main thoroughfare full of cyclists and a few honking cars and a tea house at the other end closing down for the evening. Lit with strand after strand of red-papered lanterns, the park is arranged pleasantly around a large pond in the center, large enough for an arched bridge to curve over it and reflect off the still water in a perfect mirror. The water is broken up in places by patches of nodding lotus flowers just beginning to sink back into the water for the night, their petals closed tightly.

“Ahh I see,” Lan Xichen hums as they come to a stop at the fence that borders the pedestrian path. At Nie Mingjue’s questioning glance he gestures towards the glinting reflections of warm lamplight and wooden beams in the water as he clarifies, with a smile, “The sights. This is lovely.”

Nie Mingjue’s criteria are more about finding safe public spaces where they can’t be easily cornered while they get some of the lay of the land of the Yiling Laozu’s territory, but that doesn’t sound like the sort of thing that will keep Lan Xichen happy enough to keep playing his part as well as he has been while they’ve been walking, so he just nods and looks back out at the water.

“Well, Mr Architect…” Lan Xichen begins with a sharp hint of teasing in his voice, well-hidden but dangerous all the same. “You seem like a..thorough man, I’m sure you’ve done your homework. Is there anything you can tell me about this place?”

Nie Mingjue, who knows fuck-all about architecture and has very little interest in learning, naturally replies, “Of course there is.” Lan Xichen looks up at him with bemused challenge in his eyes.

“Oh?” He releases Nie Mingjue’s hand to turn his back on the pond and lean elegantly against the fence, open and expectant. He gestures with both hands spread on either side of his hips and a tilt of his head. “Go on, then.”

Nie Mingjue breathes through a sudden memory of similar sensations of any potential story being wiped suddenly clean from his mind anytime A-Sang would plead for one at bedtime as a child. The association is unexpected, and extremely unwelcome in his current circumstances.

“The bridge was constructed in…1723.” Lan Xichen raises his eyebrows and smiles like he can tell Nie Mingjue is 100% pulling this out of his ass, but that’s not nearly enough to make him stop. “Credited to two Qishan Wen architects..actually built by a Qinghe Nie.” 

Lan Xichen’s smile turns openly indulgent, but Nie Mingjue is in too deep now to let him win. Lan Xichen pushes off the fence to start walking towards the bridge in question and Nie Mingjue follows a few paces behind as he continues. “Yes, a Qinghe Nie architect named…” Nie Mingjue scrambles to think of a name, but he’s never been good at this game and so he forces himself not to wince around the ache of his father’s memory as his clumsy tongue offers up, “Fengyi.”

At least there’s no hint of recognition in the relaxed slope of Lan Xichen’s shoulders as he wanders onto the bridge, long strides eating up the distance between the first few planks embedded in the footpath and the high center arch of it easily. Nie Mingjue stays at the bank of the pond, leaning against the first post of the bridge’s railing as he watches Lan Xichen reach the peak and begin to lean over further than Nie Mingjue is strictly comfortable with to look down into the water. He scrambles to think of the next thing to say; maybe if the story is interesting enough Lan Xichen will stop doing things that make his adrenaline spike. 

“And of course Fengyi had…a son…uh..Huaisang. A-Sang loved art and architecture so much he inspired his father to build beautiful things.” Fuck why is he thinking about A-Sang now?! It’s all Jin Guangyao’s fault for bringing him up as his trump card the other day in the cafe, he decides, and thus channels his anger and hurt in the appropriate direction. Lan Xichen turns his head to look over at him, his face expectant, from where he’s bent over and leaning out so far over the railing his heels have popped up off the surface of the bridge.

“Unfortunately he had to..send his son away in the middle of construction as Yiling wasn’t a safe place for someone like his son to be. After that, Nie Fengyi decided to build everything in the park exactly how his son would like, in his honor, so that Huaisang could visit and see everything that had been built just for him once Yiling was safe.”

“That’s quite a large project. The construction must have taken a long time,” Lan Xichen muses.

“Well, naturally Nie Fengyi was a talented architect, he could handle taking on so much work. Why do you say so?”

“Because there’s a plaque up here that says the bridge was finished in 1938.”

Ah.

Nie Mingjue is very glad of the distance between them and that the hazy glow of lantern light is the only thing illuminating him — his face is definitely red, but Lan Xichen doesn’t need to know that. He’s already gloating enough as it is considering his smirk is visible even from here.

“Well. As I said. Yiling was dangerous at the time, and there would have been…Fires. Yes. A fire that destroyed the original bridge a century after it was constructed, so it had to be rebuilt.”

“And the re-construction took another…hundred odd years or so?”

Nie Mingjue wracks his brain for another plausible explanation as he stalls with a short, “No–” that is promptly interrupted by the quiet evening shattering around the spitting rumble of a motorbike that pulls into the park.

“Evening, Big Red. Huan-ge,” Jin Guangyao greets when he’s ground to a stop mere inches from Nie Mingjue’s foot. Nie Mingjue glances sharply around at the park’s few other patrons to make sure none of them are paying them any undue amount of attention.

“You are not supposed to acknowledge us in public,” he snaps, eyes still scanning though he sees Jin Guangyao shrug and smirk at him in his peripherals.

“And you are already being followed.”

Nie Mingjue notes the way Lan Xichen’s head snaps towards them again, his posture straightening (thank god) and his expression slipping towards concern as he looks between them.

“I know. The two men from the lobby, both early-30’s, one in a leather jacket and one in a black suit. Which is why you should leave.”

Lan Xichen comes down from the bridge again to drift close enough to hear them properly, arms crossed over his chest as he glances surreptitiously at their immediate surroundings.

“They went the long way around to the other side of the park when you came in. I imagine they’ll be waiting for you when you leave,” Jin Guangyao tells them, still arrogant as all Jins are as he leans on his motorbike and acts like he isn’t actively making the situation worse simply by being here.

Nie Mingjue stops his scanning to glare at Jin Guangyao instead, his jaw tensing with a click as his fingers start to twinge, the precursor to the shaking that will start any moment.

“I’ll handle them.”

“‘Handle’,” Jin Guangyao muses, sounding bored. A moment later he turns a saccharine smile on Nie Mingjue, tight enough that those damn dimples of his pop deep shadows in his cheeks. “By ‘handle’ I’m assuming you mean in the ‘I’m a completely normal architect showing his fiancé around town, please god don’t hurt me’ way. Because that’s what you are, and naturally you’ll be scared, and it’s in your best interests to act like it?”

“‘Scared’?” Nie Mingjue nearly spits back. A man from Qinghe is not scared of a couple of goons who think they can pull one over on him. Especially not when that man has been Wen Ruohan’s unwilling right hand for almost half his life, with every ounce of violence the honor entails.

Lan Xichen’s mellow voice is enough to snap him back from the lapping edge of his rage when he steps a touch closer and asks, “What exactly is going on?”

Jin Guangyao’s haughty expression smooths out into something noticeably softer even in the low lantern-light when his eyes flicker over to Lan Xichen. Nie Mingjue breathes through the familiar anger coursing through him that clouds his ability to think as clearly as he needs to while Jin Guangyao explains. “You’re being tested. Someone” — his tone and raised eyebrow implies they all know who — “wants to make sure your fiancé here is really an architect, and not a highly trained secret agent. A trained secret agent like Wen Ruohan’s precious Red Blade, for instance.”

Nie Mingjue gnashes his teeth around the blatant disregard for discretion and takes a step away from Lan Xichen’s side to better loom over Jin Guangyao on his stupid fucking motorbike, sitting there calm and collected like he isn’t actively putting everything they’re working on in jeopardy.

“I said I’ll handle it!”

“I think you should do as he says, Mingjue,” Lan Xichen murmurs as he lays a lightly restraining hand on his arm.

Jin Guangyao gives Nie Mingjue a scathing up-and-down glance, lingering a moment too long on his trembling fist at his side, before he shrugs and starts the bike up again with a splutter of the engine that settles into a rumbling purr.

“Alright then, off you go. Just remember — try to take it like a good boy,” he smirks with a fucking wink. Nie Mingjue is going to throttle him, no alliance with the Jin is worth this indignity, nuclear death of everyone on the planet be damned.

“This is not the Nie way,” he snaps for good measure, but all he gets for it is Lan Xichen’s hand slipping into his to squeeze it tightly in silent reproach and Jin Guangyao offering another dimpled smile before he zips away into the night, out of the park and onto the street to disappear quickly in the bustling evening traffic. Nie Mingjue watches him go for a long moment before he turns and stalks off towards the other side of the park, his ‘fiancé’ in tow. Lan Xichen wisely stays silent as they continue on their way, all hints of teasing gone.

He stays close to Nie Mingjue’s side as they cross through the park and exit on the other side, deeper now in the oldest part of the city and surrounded on all sides by tall, narrow buildings casting deep shadows, everything seeming to have been designed specifically to lean in over the street to better block out the sallow glow of the only nearby street lamps…all the way at the next junction some two blocks away.

Nie Mingjue slows his steps and reaches down to slide Lan Xichen’s hand up from where it’s tangled with his to tuck it in the crook of his elbow instead so that he’s free to ball that hand up into a fist against his sternum, making sure they look like any regular couple out for a stroll. It’s not ideal, but his body can’t help but prepare for the fight he knows he could win upon spotting a couple shadowed figures waiting for them tucked just inside an alley between two shops, dark and closed up for the night. Lan Xichen’s grip hardens on his arm, but Nie Mingjue has no intention of letting him get hurt, even should he have no choice but to let things escalate.

Adrenaline courses through him at the idea of getting to bash a couple heads in after the last few days he’s had as he leads Lan Xichen down the street, his gaze trained straight ahead like he can’t tell they’ve just passed right by their tail.

“Hey, nice shoes,” one of them calls out, oily slick from the shadows and punctuated with a little giggle that raises the hair on the back of his neck. 

Nie Mingjue doesn’t break stride as he replies with a brusque, “Thank you,” and gives Lan Xichen’s hand on his elbow a reassuring squeeze.

They’ve just made it past the porch the second man is lounging on when he adds, gruffer than his companion, “Maybe you should give those to me, ah?”

Nie Mingjue — ignoring the way Lan Xichen’s restraining grip on his arm is now tight enough that his hand is starting to tingle from the lack of blood flow to it — slows to a stop to lean back far enough around Lan Xichen to look down his nose at the second man’s dangling legs. He slaps a smirk on his lips and makes sure the innuendo is crystal clear when he replies, “I think your feet are..a little too small.”

He lets Lan Xichen coax him a few steps forward again with surreptitious tugs on his arm, but they’ve only gone that far before the first man speaks up again, closer behind them than he’d been before.

“Give me some cash for dinner, then? Looks like you’ve got plenty of it to spare.”

Nie Mingjue breaks Lan Xichen’s grip and they turn in unison to face him. He clenches his newly freed hand down by his hip, but Lan Xichen is already there, grabbing his arm again and putting the hand not crushing his elbow on his chest to get his attention.

“Darling.” Something about that low, tense murmur snaps Nie Mingjue’s full attention to him, where he finds Lan Xichen far too close and looking up at him with clear censure in his eyes. Do what we discussed, his gaze seems to warn as he adds, “Give him enough for dinner, hm?”

Nie Mingjue could lay these two idiots out flat in less time than it takes to pull his wallet out, but for Lan Xichen’s sake (and Lan Xichen’s sake alone, he doesn’t care what Jin Guangyao thinks he should do) he does the latter. He fishes his wallet from his pocket to pull a handful of notes free, the paper crinkling in his grasp (the smiles of the workers on the front of the bills feel like they’re mocking him) as he passes them to the oily one in the leather jacket. The man takes the cash with a grin wide enough it looks near manic — and reaches across Lan Xichen to slip Nie Mingjue’s entire wallet free from his hand as well.

Lan Xichen’s hand on his chest is the only thing that keeps him from snapping a fist across the space between them to knock the guy out cold for daring to push his luck like this.

“Enjoy your dinner,” he says instead with a tight, threatening smile. Lan Xichen gives his chest a little pat before they turn back around to continue on their way —

But the one in the suit is blocking their path with an ugly smirk on his lips, and Nie Mingjue’s senses shift abruptly into high alert before he’s even consciously noted the clean metal ssnik of a well-oiled blade flicking open behind them. He wraps his arm around Lan Xichen’s waist to shield his more vulnerable organs, his grip steady as they look over their shoulders in sync to gauge the threat.

“Nice watch,” Leather Jacket smirks, twirling his long glinting knife between clever fingers.

No.

No no no! This is fucking insane, Nie Mingjue is not giving his father’s watch to a miserable little cretin he could snap in half like a toothpick! Any Nie (or Wen) knows how to fight, he isn’t special or even unusual; it wouldn’t be noteworthy at all if he landed these two in the hospital for accosting him and his fiancé after dark!

“Ge,” Lan Xichen breathes, another warning, more urgent this time (though he’s pretty sure it’ll sound like fear to their attackers). This is getting more ridiculous by the second — they could already be on their way without the need for any tension at all if Jin Guangyao had just agreed to let Nie Mingjue handle this. “Give him the watch.”

“The ring, too.”

“I beg your pardon?” Lan Xichen asks, sounding so affronted all the sudden that Nie Mingjue wonders if he might end up throwing a punch instead.

Leather Jacket shrugs and uses the knife to point at Lan Xichen’s left hand resting over Nie Mingjue’s curled around his waist. “It’s a nice rock. I want it.”

“Hm.” Lan Xichen releases him long enough to work the diamond off his finger with an indignant huff, and Nie Mingjue doesn’t miss the way Leather Jacket’s hand wraps far too familiarly around Lan Xichen’s graceful fingers when he takes the ring from him, the leer on his face distinctly predatory. Assessing. 

“The watch,” Black Suit reminds him, as if Nie Mingjue could have forgotten in the last thirty seconds.

“The watch!” Leather Jacket snaps — and slaps him across the face.

There is a ringing in his ears, loud enough to drown out everything else in the world. He blinks against it and tries to center himself with a desperation born entirely out of needing to remain present for Lan Xichen’s sake, but the ringing has absolutely nothing to do with the force of the slap and everything to do with the memories rising to the front of his mind too sharp, too loud.

A moment after he’s dragged his thoughts back to the present, Black Suit reaches out to strike him across the other cheek, snapping his head back towards Leather Jacket. His vision dims with the force of his heartbeat thundering in his ears, fury doing its best to work its way past his self-control.

“Mingjue.” Lan Xichen’s sharp call cuts through the ringing in his head. “Give him the watch.”

It takes a few tries to get his shaking fingers to close around the tongue of the wristband threaded through itself, but he eventually manages it and holds his one and only sentimental possession out to Leather Jacket, who snatches it away with another toothy grin before he hawks up a quick glob of spit that lands right where Nie Mingjue’s cheek is still smarting from the first blow.

Nie Mingjue punches him in the throat, his hand a blur as he closes the distance between them with virtually no sense of satisfaction.

“Mingjue!!” Lan Xichen yelps as he hurries to step in front of him, both hands on his chest again as Black Suit hurries around them to tug his buddy up off the ground and away from where Nie Mingjue is seething, the edges of his vision turning a hazy red with the strength of it. “Calm down! That’s enough.”

He can’t take his eyes off his father’s watch in Leather Jacket’s half-gloved hand as the pair make their escape back down the alley and disappear from sight. His stomach twists with the piece of himself that he just allowed to be torn away. His hands are too hard, too bruising on Lan Xichen’s hips as he just barely manages not to shove the man out of his way to give chase. It takes a few long moments, he’s not exactly sure how long, before he becomes aware of another set of footsteps approaching them at a leisurely pace from an alleyway between two buildings.

“You’re not very good at this whole ‘subtlety’ thing, are you?” Jin Guangyao drawls from the shadows.

“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen cautions but Nie Mingjue is already rounding on his new target, eyes flashing as he stalks forward.

“That man just stole my father’s watch.” It’s not enough, it doesn’t even begin to cover the cavern yawning suddenly in his chest, but Nie Mingjue isn’t the most eloquent man even at the best of times, which this is certainly not.

“Yes, I saw. And aren’t you supposed to be an architect?”

“Yes, and a Wen architect would fight back! A Wen agent would kill them! But do I need to remind you that I am neither?!”

“Yes yes, you’re a Nie, I know, we’ve been over this already,” Jin Guangyao waves his anger away with a flick of his wrist, though as keyed up as he is Nie Mingjue can’t help but notice with a hunter’s eye that he drifts a few steps out of his range in Lan Xichen’s direction, where the man has stepped away to sit on the steps of the nearest shop to put his head down on his knees and breathe. “You’re still not exactly known for your even temper, whether you’re Wen or Nie or whatever. Forgive me for being surprised that you seem to have actually thought this through.”

Nie Mingjue wouldn’t be surprised if the pop in his jaw is actually cracking enamel with the force of how hard he’s clenching his teeth to keep his voice down as he spits, “Let’s finish what we started —”

“Don’t!” Lan Xichen’s aggravated bark catches both of their attentions; Nie Mingjue darts another glance his way to find he’s sat up and is now glaring at both of them; it sits strangely on his face. He stands after a moment to stomp closer, clearly at his limit for the second time today. “I was under the impression that you two are supposed to be protecting me, so why am I the one who has to get in the middle and play mediator?”

This close Nie Mingjue can see something else lurking under his irritation but he’s not exactly in a position to suss out what it may be, nor do they have the time for him to try. Instead, he takes a deep breath to try to force his anger back down where it can’t hurt anything. As satisfying as it would likely be, laying Jin Guangyao out flat with a few solid punches won’t help anything now, and he doesn’t want to hurt Lan Xichen, which leaves him without a target to take it out on anyway. Better to let it simmer instead until he can unleash it at just the right moment.

“If you both cannot begin acting like you know what you’re meant to be doing here, I’m leaving. You said it yourself this morning that this plan won’t work without me — act like it.”

Nie Mingjue is left blinking in the wake of his scolding, nonplussed, and when he glances down at Jin Guangyao he finds the other man looks equally as gobsmacked.

“Is it weird that I like him angry?” Jin Guangyao mutters out of the corner of his mouth. Lan Xichen visibly collects himself with a tug on the leather suspenders Nie Mingjue had put on him and a hitch of his trousers to re-settle them after his little breathing exercise on the stoop.

“Don’t talk to me,” Nie Mingjue mutters back before he stalks forward to snag Lan Xichen’s hand and lead him back to the hotel. They’ve had a long day and, as he’d expected, Lan Xichen allows himself to be towed along without complaint.

If Jin Guangyao knows what’s good for him, he’ll take a different route back to his own room and leave them alone for the rest of the night, at the very least.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

I think we have brush that subject once when rwrb came out. From my casual film watching i came to understand that when a book is adapted into a movie that the director actually purchased the right from the author(i might be completely wrong). Every single time a movie is made from a book it bring the question how true does the director have to stay from the book? Do they just get the overall topic of the book and go from there? How do they choose what to cut Nd keep from the book? Films are such a complex topics to me

I think with the baldoni/lively things also comes from the fact that he wants to shine the light on DV while she wants to makes it look like a woman empowerment movement which people are saying can take away from the real issues discussed in the book.

Thanks @5813 for giving me the opportunity to talk about adaptation. I remember some of the talks that took place about this when RWRB came out and I think my position was that we should be able to look at the film as a work of its own, hence my criticism of it shouldn't automatically offend the fans of the book that it had been adapted from.

I'll try to keep this brief and not turn it into a lesson. My knowledge is only slightly refreshed anyway as I've briefly looked through the notes I had on adaption from many years ago. They're mostly a summary of the major theories regarding the topic.

But first of all, let's establish what is an adaption? It's the transfer of a work of art into another medium, different from the one in which it was originally created: from literature to film, literature to music, theater plays to film, a painting into a film/theater play, etc. Adaption is not only a product, but also a process. I find the latter a more interesting frame to analyze and understand a work, beyond judgement of values of whether it is a good adaption or not.

Adaption also has an original text as a source which often is seen as having authority over the end result of the adaption. This leads to the principle of fidelity and one that is still considered as the most relevant and important to this day in certain circles, despite the huge amount of scholarly research that has brought forth the numerous ways in which what can be determined as a good adaption doesn't need to be only the one that fully respects the original source.

Going back to the principle of fidelity, you'll find its definition familiar, because it is the main discourse. In this case, an adaptation has to not only capture the artistic and ideological features, but also to reproduce the contents and the structure of the story. A lot of the times, the more an adapted work is as close as possible to the original text, the better it is considered to be (Think of the BBC adaptions of the works of Jane Austen). That is because from that perspective, the original text (often time coming from literature) is considered superior while the second medium will never be able to fully capture the complexity of the book. Hence, for those who use this argument, the cinema and the process of adaptation it engages with is not seen as its own separate art form, with its own grammar through which the transformation of a story can take a new life and create a separate work of art that can stand on its own and be just as valuable.

In contrast, I want to offer some other examples of type of adaptation just so you can get an idea.

Homage adaption – a re-adaption of a former adaption. For example, Gus van Sant's Psycho is an homage to Hitchcock's Psycho which in turn was a story adapted from a book.

There's the adaptation that focuses on romanticizing a past, without investigating it, the focus is on nostalgia – The Great Gatsby from 1974.

An adaptation can be compressed (a 500 page book needs to become a 2-hour movie, there will definitely be cuts) or extended (a short story like John Cheever's The Swimmer had to be extended with other scenes added to it in order to turn it into into a 1h30min film. (extension also applies to films based on music albums)

A favorite of mine is the process through which a text is transformed in order to reflect the ideology of the present, hence also showing its thematic universality. A famous example of this is 10 Things I Hate About You which is an adaption of Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew. The action takes place in the present, all the stylistical elements are contemporary, the dialogue is changed as well, but the essence and the skeleton of the story remains the same.

There's more to this and also grouped based on various schools of thought, but for the purpose of your ask, I think I've answered your question a little bit.

[cazzyf1]

Thessa von Trips (Wolfgang Von Trip's mother) diary entry about Wolfgang, the preface to a biography about Wolfgang.

(Translated from German using google translate so parts don't 100% make sense)

Warning: you might cry

Started on some gray November day...

This book is for you!

This book should record a part of our lives. We both wanted it that way then - today, it is different. The pages are no longer complete. I took them out!

It would be unbearable to know that I would only have to open the pages two or three times to read your poem, to see your writing! When you left, I couldn't understand it, and to this day I still can't believe that you're no longer there! I dream of you, and when I run to the mailbox in the morning to find a greeting from you from somewhere, I am unspeakably sad and awake at the same time.

You often looked at me with astonished eyes when we talked about religion. I told you that I only believe in nature, and your objection was that nature was created by God, so it must be there. You believed in him, but why, why did he destroy everything? Because he loved you? That would be too cheap a consolidation for me. Why? Will there ever be an answer?

I think you were too good for this world. Perhaps if you had your eyes open to all the intrigue and evil around you, you would have saved from becoming evil.

You would probably have hard can be, but never insincere, let alone selfish. You believed that the people around you meant what they were saying, and you seemed content. How hard it hit you when you once did that. You had to experience the opposite; only I know. We were both suffering. You because you just couldn't understand it, I because I didn't know any consolation that could help you. Because whatever I said you didn't want to understand it. You never wanted thanks - just understanding. And what did you harvest? You were taken advantage of and certain people used your back as a jumping platform. According to the motto: “Everyone is their own neighbour!”

I don't want to and can't think about it anymore. My heart hurts! Please forgive me, I know you are sad when I have thoughts like that. I want to try to listen to you. When I think of you, I am happy. Only then. You took the word “happiness” with you. It's no longer there. It lives in me together with the thought of you. You probably know how often my thoughts are with you. I hold on tightly to it so that life doesn't become unbearable. Sometimes everything is just so damn difficult. Everything reminds me of you: cities, countries, music,

Maybe later, much later, I'll go wherever we would be happy. Then I'll run after a time that will never exist again because it stood still when you left.

Do you know that the idea that I already knew back then, the connection. Is it a gift to you that I might give back at some point or make me very, very happy? I wish that all the women in the world could be as happy as I once was for just a few minutes. It's enough for a lifetime! I thank you!

I often think about your words. They still ring in my ears today. Words whose meaning I didn't understand at the time. I couldn't do it either. You pointed the meaning of your thoughts and feelings then. And I hear the shrill ringing of the phone in the night and then your voice. How many times have I experienced this, a hundred times I have tormented myself with it.

I was afraid I wouldn't be able to help you. The word in general - no, the concept of fear - how different it appears. How many fears have I endured for you? I think you have to be afraid in order to be able to love. When you “have yourself again,” you know what a gift you have. Fear and love - two completely different words. And yet they belong together. I think of your words:

"The most important thing in life is living and sometimes I think we are already dead and we just don’t know it yet!”

That was four years ago in Milan.

I didn't want to understand your words, I couldn't understand how you - just now so unspeakably satisfied - came to this outburst. All I knew was that the fear that was almost squeezing my throat at that moment would never leave again.

And then everything came at once.

It was at this time that I learned to value minutes. I know how much you still have in seconds and that two or three words can be the greatest treasure in the world. Because they can take away the fear and tension and give happiness and satisfaction.

Just a few words... and yet they are the most important thing in life.

Why am I writing to you? Maybe to relieve myself. Maybe also to free myself from the pressure that rests on me. It feels so good to say everything and say everything you would never say!

My thoughts are with you more than ever and it is so difficult to always be composed and maintain my composure. How often do I ask myself: “What’s all this for?"

It has become so pointless and everything is so empty. Tears are the only salvation. They help, as grotesque as that may sound.

How many times have I read your letters. I'll know them by heart soon. It's the few moments when I'm happy, as always, when my thoughts are with you.

I will never forget any of your words. Your gestures are familiar to me and your fear is also clear to me.

I could paint your face with my eyelids closed - if I had the talent.

I thank you for everything! I will always think of our melody: "Love is here to stay for ever - love is imperishable!"

It will be so!

Please, teach me to live on.

Good night

My love

My love forever

[alavestineneas]

Silence

pairing: Clove Kentwell x fem!reader

summary: There has to be more to life than this endless cycle of violence and death. Otherwise, what's the point? 

warnings: out of character,  violence, mentions of death and torture

word count: 3k

author’s note: It’s completely my take on Clove’s future if she won the Games years before Katniss and lived long enough to see the Second Rebellion. In my head, she would grow to hate the Capitol as much as most victors do.  As for the fic, I wrote a more certain ending for this one but was not sure whether it fits here. If you are interested in reading a so-called part 2, let me know. Enjoy!

Silence. The thing that has followed Clove the most since her victory. It was everywhere—exhausting, haunting, and almost inevitable. Her mother calls it peace, but she doesn't seem to understand much of Clove's life. There has to be more to life than this endless cycle of violence and death. Otherwise, what's the point? 

 Silence is yet again her only companion in an empty office. She has been there countless times but never received a punishment. It is almost interesting; to see how things work from the other side, although her body aches in alarming waiting.

The office feels lifeless, and Clove thinks it has something to do with the lack of decor. It's as if the space is designed to be temporary, as if no one is meant to stay here for long. Clove wonders if this is intentional or simply a byproduct of the job's demands. Either way, it adds to the sense of isolation that she feels. She tries to push these thoughts aside, but her mind keeps drifting back to the emptiness around her. She wonders how long she can keep up this charade of normalcy before it all becomes too much to bear. 

The door finally opens, and the man in his usual white uniform enters the room. Clove doesn't stand up, although the protocol says she should. What's the point of formalities? 

The man recognizes her. While District 2 has a lot more victors than others, they can still be counted on ten fingers. The soldier's face twists, his mouth curving in a slight O-shape. 

''Kentwell?'' he barks.

Clove nods, almost curious about his following actions. Undoubtedly, the whip doesn't discriminate between the golden stars of Panem and commoners. However, they live in separate areas, earn more money, and wear different clothes for a reason. The Capitol's goal is to divide the district from within, diverting their attention from the real threat. She knows that now. 

''I'll make a call.'' 

The man leaves as rapidly as he came, - the door closes behind him with a loud thud. The walls here are paper-thin. Does the Capitol not trust its guard dogs? Although it has its perks, she must admit - Clove can hear the call better than her heartbeat.

''Report.''

''Ma'am, I have case fifty-eight.''

Clove knew exactly what that meant. She braced herself for the inevitable order that would follow.

''And do I need to remind you what to do in such cases?''

''No, ma'am. But I thought it was better to report: we have a victor.''

There was a moment of silence before the female voice spoke again.  

''Lessen the whipping.''

''But ma'am, the protocol states that...''

''Roundtree, execute.''

''Yes, ma'am.''

Clove hears the man take hurried steps back to the office but doesn't pay him much attention. Her sentence, while not as harsh as it should be, remains. Clove's stomach turns in dread; this time, she gets what she deserves for not being careful enough. 

 -

The party is at its peak when Clove shows up. Her movements are slower than usual; while the wounds are not bleeding anymore, they still ached. The dress stylists gave her barely covered white bandages—if you looked long enough, you could put two plus two together.

The mayor's house is crowded with important people from the district's elite. Those people look idiotic in a pitiful attempt to mimic Capitol's people. It's almost funny how they think they are closer to them than their people here. The real power lies with those who control the resources and manipulate the masses for their own gain. Clove can't help but feel a sense of disgust at how easily these people are fooled into thinking that they are part of something greater, when in reality they are just being used for someone else's benefit.

''Miss Kentwell!''

The mayor's face is a little red, likely from the heat or the amount of alcohol he consumed. The man is near sixty, although Clove is not entirely sure; they say work like this ages people quicker. His face, framed by odd round glasses, expresses nothing but delight. If Clove had to guess, she would assume he doesn't know about her small rebellion yet or doesn't bother remembering it.

''I believe you haven't met Miss Y/L/N before; she isn't a big fan of our smallish dinners. A woman of work, you see.'' The man throws up his hands as if it were a ridiculous idea. ''But what can be better than this, am I right?''

Clove agrees, chuckling into her glass. The mayor seems not to notice her obvious sarcasm, happy to prove his point. The woman beside him, however, doesn't miss it; her piercing eyes are riveted to Clove, examining her.

''What do you say if I get you, ladies, something to drink?'' 

The mayor breaks the silence settled between them, and Clove opens her mouth to disagree—her glass is half full anyway, but the woman is quicker.

 ''Sounds wonderful, Fellord.''

If she wasn't curious about the woman before, she definitely is now. Not a lot of people consider themselves good friends with the mayor, and, for sure, not people her age—the woman looks a few years older than Clove. 

''I would ask you to dance, Miss Kentwell, but, unfortunately, I am the proud owner of two left feet.''

The woman smiles, and Clove thinks she has heard this voice before. Perhaps she works at the mayor's office.

"Well, that makes two of us, Miss Y/L/N.''

''Oh, call me Y/N. I can't have such a beautiful woman think I am a prune, can I?'''

''That would be a catastrophe indeed.''

Clove likes the woman. She doesn't look as posh as most people here; her dress is much simpler, and her neck doesn't bear the burden of a hundred pearls. She is quite captivating, too. Something about her stance and confidence make Clove's brain a little cloudy.

''Here come the drinks.'' The mayor is yet again near them, holding two stemwares with bubbling liquid. ''Miss Y/L/N, I am afraid I have to steal you; there is a line of people I absolutely need to introduce you to. Miss Kentwell.'' he nods, passing her a glass. 

The woman left, leaving nothing but a fling of curiosity in Clove's mind and a pleasant warmth in her body. While taking a woman as a lover wasn't unusual in the Capitol, here it would raise some eyebrows. 

Clove's eyes fell on the glass left behind by the woman. It was half-full, the condensation on its surface glistening in the dim light of the room. She couldn't help but wonder who this woman was and what her story might be. Yet Clove has more important things on her mind now. She needed to focus on her mission, gather information, and make connections that would help the rebellion. 

  -

 It's 4 in the morning when Clove makes her way into the kitchen; nightmares keep her sleepless most nights. The day is already breaking, slowly painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. The district is long awake; workers are just now returning from the night shift in the Nut. Clove sees their small, dark figures coming down a broad path. It is too far to make out the faces, although it's not hard to predict how tired and dirty they look.

The Capitol doesn't pay half what their labour is worth—not enough money to feed a grown man, let alone a family. Clove hears the talks in pubs—people are angry, and rightly so. The discontent is growing, but not as quickly as she would like it to. 

But Plutarch believes that the time for revolution has come, and Clove can't help but feel a glimmer of hope. She knows that the 75th Games are fast approaching, and with them, the potential for change. Though she also knows that change won't come easily. The Capitol will fight tooth and nail to maintain their power, and it won't be long before they realize what Plutarch is planning. 

Clove can only wish that he's right about the people being ready to rise. As she watches the sun set over District 2, she can't help but wonder what the future holds. Will they succeed in overthrowing the Capitol? Only time will tell, but one thing is certain: Clove is ready to fight.

Maybe it's the reason for her sentiments now—she had never felt this way before. Clove had dated in middle school, but it was nothing serious. And since then, she had only had a few hookups—nothing that made her heart race like this. It was almost embarrassing to admit to herself that she was blushing at the thought of someone she barely knew. 

Clove sighs, gathering her thoughts. It is time she got going; the revolution won't plan itself.

 -

A few gunshots are heard somewhere nearby. Clove is running for her life through the narrow streets of the slums. She feels her legs burning with heat and a sharp pain aches in her calves. Was disobeying Lime's orders and attending the worker's gathering stupidheat,? Sure. She wishes she had never done it, but it's too late for regrets now. 

Clove has run far enough to be out of peacekeepers' reach for now. The fire in her lungs is almost unbearable, and her heart is high on adrenalin. The shouts of the less fortunate are loud and clear; if she closes her eyes, it's like she is back at the arena.

She had escaped death once again, and it was starting to feel like a blessing and a curse all at once. Fate seemed to be playing a cruel game with her. As Clove caught her breath, she knew that she needed to move quickly before anyone came searching for her. The home was the safest place for her right now, and she needed to make it there without being seen.

She straightens up, lifting her eyes off the dusty ground.

Looking right at her are two pairs of eyes.

Peacekeepers.

Caught.

Clove feels the air leave her lungs. Her mind races with regret and fear as she realizes that this is the end. She had always known that being a rebel was a death sentence, but she never thought it would end like this. Clove had been so careful, but now it seemed that all her efforts had been in vain. The peacekeepers stood before her, their eyes cold and unfeeling as they trained their weapons on her. 

The gunshot fires faster than she has time to react. The foul ground colours are red with blood, contrasting with a white uniform on the still warm, dead body. 

The pair of unfazed, cold eyes sent shivers down her spine. Clove finally recognizes her saviour. Y/N. She is also in a white uniform, slightly tinted with blood. She speaks into her radio calmly: ''Soldier 237 is eliminated. The subject is armed. The perimeter is clear. End of report.'' before turning on her feet and leaving in the opposite direction.

Clove takes a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She looks down at her hands, still shaking from the intense encounter. She is alive.

As Clove starts to wander away, she can't help but feel grateful for her saviour. Why did Y/N shoot her partner and not her? Was it because of one conversation a few months ago? Ridiculous. Her mind races with questions, but Clove knows that she may never get the answers.

 -

They didn't come for her. Clove waited for interrogation or a gun to her head at night—nothing. Lyme was furious with her, of course, but Clove still managed to grab a few pieces of information vital to the planning.

Clove has looked at death's face many times, but she hasn't been so shaken in forever. Perhaps she is getting older, or the impact of betrayal was big enough to darken her mood.

It wasn't even a betrayal to begin with; she has to remind herself that Y/N promised her nothing. Hell, they spoke once or twice, and she was already head over heels. Clove is losing her grip, or maybe she is just tired of not allowing herself to feel anything, but it still hurts more than she would like to admit.

Y/N was an enemy—a serious one. Clove's heart surely knows whom to go for. It would be easier for her to convince herself to hate the woman if she let her partner shoot her. But no, Y/N saved her not once but twice already—she was the voice on the phone. Then she is not just an ordinary soldier; she is someone of higher rank. Someone who can have her dead in a matter of seconds and, for some reason, doesn't.

Clove feels as if her head is ready to explode; the Games have already started. It's only a matter of time before the rebellion begins. Before then, they have to plan a lot. Lyme had gotten the message from District 13: they are ready. Clove isn't sure if she is, but there is no turning back now. The rebellion was coming, and it was only a matter of time before everything exploded into chaos.

 -

The dim light above cast eerie shadows on the blueprints. The silence in the room was suffocating. Their recent mission failed; the rebels lost a lot of their people and weapons. The revolution raged in all parts of Panem; however, the power of authority in District 2 remained strong.

Clove was low. Besides a few wounds gained on their last mission, she lost a few good soldiers. Those past months were nothing but agony; the constant lack of food and medical care destroyed the rebellious spirit better than any propaganda. Clove doesn't want to admit it, but she is scared. Lyme is too, and that kills Clove from within. The only person who seemed to know something is lost too.

Now, at the meeting of commanders, no one speaks a word. They know that they cannot afford to make any mistakes or take unnecessary risks. The faint knock disturbs the silence. The soldiers look at one another at a loss; their team is already here. The knock grows louder, and the commanders exchange wary glances. They know that they must proceed with caution.

Clove stands up from her seat, grabbing the nearest gun. The door creaks open, and while the lighting isn't helping to make out the face, Clove still does—it's Y/N. Years of training kick in. Her fingers wrap tightly around the trigger of the loaded gun, and she feels a rush of adrenaline as she raises it to point directly between the woman's eyes.

''Drop the gun,'' Lyme commands.

Clove isn't sure if she heard the woman right. It's their enemy she is holding at gunpoint—the reason for their losses.

''Lyme, she is a -'' Clove starts.

''I know who she is. She is on our side. Lower the gun.''

Clove hesitates for a moment, unsure of whether to trust Lyme's words or not. But as she looks into Y/N's eyes, she sees a glimmer of distress that she can relate to. With a deep breath, Clove lowers her gun and steps aside to let Y/N in. 

The woman rolls her eyes. ''Finally. I don't have all the time in the world.'' She takes a few first-aid kits out of her bag. ''All I could sneak out without drawing too much attention.'' 

Lyme nods. ''Commanders, this is Y/N Y/L/N. She was recommended by Plutarch as a valuable soldier.'' 

Y/N looks around. ''Shall we start?'' 

The meeting lasted for almost four hours and only ended because of Y/N's departure; they couldn't afford to blow up her cover that foolishly. The woman brought many new points to the plan; having someone who knows the system from within made an enormous difference.

And while a lot became clear after the gathering, Clove found herself even more confused. So as the last person left the room, Clove approached Lyme with a furrowed brow. 

"You don't trust her," Lyme stated. 

 ''Clearly. The thing is, why do you trust her?'' 

 Lyme looked at her calmly. ''I don't. When the rebellion was in planning, Plutarch introduced me to her. We've worked together since.'' 

 ''How do we know she doesn't betray us at any given chance?'' 

 ''She didn't before.'' Lyme shrugged. ''Or did you forget the time she saved your ass?''

 As Clove sat there, staring at her friend, she couldn't help but feel the weight of her guilt bearing down on her. She knew it was wrong to hide such a vital piece of information, but she was too ashamed to admit her mistakes. It wasn't just the fear of being judged that held her back; it was the fear of losing everything she had worked so hard for. 

 ''Look, I know it's hard, and frankly, that Plutarch man is slimy, to say the least. But it's all we've got.''

 Clove nods. Lyme had always been honest with her, and she had no reason to doubt her now. ''Okay. But I'll keep an eye on her.'' 

 -

 The attack was successful, finally. Clove loosens up a little; a light of hope sparkles in the rebels' eyes once again. More people have joined the resistance since Y/N's addition to the commanders' board. The woman is bright, Clove must admit—she is a trained officer after all. 

 Lyme has them work together most of the time. Y/N renders an account of the peacekeepers' tactic and plans one to counter. It's hard work—if she makes it too easy, she will be under suspicion; if she doesn't, rebels lose people. Clove is there to report recourses and check for mistakes; after hours of work, it's easy to make one. 

 ''That's it,'' Y/N announces, ''Those are the exists, the ones marked with red—the weakest points.''

 Clove nods, taking a seat next to her on a tiny piece of wood—an improvised chair and desk. She feels Y/N tiredly stretch next to her. The handwriting is small and uneven, but understandable enough. ''Good,'' she mutters under her breath.

 ''The Nut won't be easy to take; you have to know that. I have fifteen people making the decisions there; I can't go against their commands.'' 

 ''I know.'' Clove feels the ache in her chest growing. Why can't things be easy for once? When Y/N steps out of this forgotten factory, she is a peacekeeper. And if she had the order to kill her, she would. 

 ''The sun is almost up. I have to go.'' Y/N stands up, and Clove feels the cold touch her skin. She wants to say something to make her turn and listen, but she knows deep down that it wouldn't have made a difference. Clove watches the woman look around before disappearing in the morning fog. If only they had more time.

 -

 The Nut was invincible, just like Y/N had predicted. They've already tried four times. Nothing. A crushing defeat each time. Their miserable position even earned them guests—the Mockingjay and her famous squad.

 Clove listens to their discretions, not too attentively—what do these people know about her home? Was a seventeen-year-old speech supposed to make workers turn their backs on the system they had been under for 75 years?

 She shares a look with Y/N; she is also not impressed. As the conversation progresses, Clove finds the situation they are in dreadful—after executing the plan, most of the workers will be dead. She knows her people well; they won't surrender to someone who just bombed them. It's common sense.

 ''I'll check the weapons for tomorrow.'' Y/N stands up. She is angry.

 ''Alone? How do we know you won't purposefully ruin them?'' one of the newcomers asks.

 Y/N opens her mouth to say something, but Clove is quicker. ''I'll make sure of that.''

 -

The walk to the armoury is silent; Y/N is fuming. She goes over the guns and bullets, the weapons in her hands changing faster than Clove blinks.

''I'll try to save as much as I can," she finally says.

''What?'' 

''The people. I'll command them to surrender.''

Y/N's words hang in the air, and for a moment, there is silence. 

Clove feels a lump form in her throat as she realizes the gravity of what Y/N has just said. 

''But they will kill you then.''

''Earlier than you can say cheese," Y/N chuckles. ''But I'm dead anyway.''

''I'm afraid we both are.''

They look at each other for a moment. 

''Fuck it then.''

Y/N shortens the distance between them in a few quick steps, her body pressing Clove against the cold wall. The closeness of their bodies sends shivers down Clove's spine. The kiss is hungry, almost heated. Clove feels her cheeks burn, and blood rushes through her veins. It's hard to focus on anything Y/N is doing to her; it feels too good.

''Fuck me.'' Clove's voice is hoarse with desire, and she doesn't immediately realize that the words have left her mouth until she hears a familiar chuckle.

''Right here?'' Y/N raises her eyebrow, her lips a hot, soft, rosy mess. 

Clove nods almost too quickly, but she is far from caring; she wants those lips on her body again.

"You don't have to ask twice."

Their lips met again in a passionate embrace. Clove moans softly as Y/N's hands roam over her body, exploring every inch of her skin. The intensity of their desire is almost overwhelming, but she doesn't want it to end. Tomorrow, the world will burn; they have a few hours before then.

 -

Y/N left at dawn, as she had all those times before. Except for this one, Clove couldn't hold her tears for long; small, almost invisible droplets ran down her cheeks when she returned to her troop. Lyme threw her a meaningful glance, and Clove shook her head. She is fine. For the first time, Clove felt at peace with the silence around her.