#I'm never going to be good enough

[uwuthomasuwu]

.

[ozymandien]

chef with a silver earring

[sysig]

Skelekinz (Patreon)

[skullfragments]

soooo i've been real busy this past month and change working on this monster of a painting! it was originally for the GO Ref library study club but clearly took much longer than i anticipated😅

for those of you who don't recognize it, this is based on one of my favorite historical paintings, Judith Beheading Holofernes (1620) by Artemisia Gentileschi. i love the Baroque period and this painting (as well as her other works) makes me insane. here it is Good Omens style so maybe all of you can be insane with me <3

"Aziraphale (and Crowley) Beheading the Metatron"

(non-bloody and non-glowy versions under the cut)

[lilianade-comics]

desperately trying not to crash out and deactivate my Tumblr before the DP fantasy zine drops

[demaparbat-hp]

Almost

[storytellering]

"I didn't get these scars falling over in church."

[meanderingstream]

Eliot at peace with being Damned

One of the things that makes Eliot hard to write for in-character (but also such an interesting character to explore) is that he believes he is damned to Hell and he is at peace with that. He has a lot of guilt, oceans of guilt, but it's not so much the tortured, anguished catholic guilt à la Nate or like, Daredevil. 

He has done monstrous, unforgivable things. But, on his own, he came to a realization of what he had done, and pulled away from that world. On his own, he left the worst person he ever worked for, and stopped using guns, and stopped killing. On his own, he switched from wetwork to retrievals. This all occurs before we ever meet him, so while there are many hints and inferences, the specifics of how that happened, how he came to those decisions, are left up to the audience’s imagination. 

Eliot wants to make the world a better place, and he works everyday with the team to help people, and he genuinely enjoys helping people and the work he does on the job. But he does not believe that he can be redeemed. (Not my own personal belief about him, but it is what he thinks). When he dies, he will go to Hell for his sins, and there is nothing that can possibly be done to change that. He doesn't need to angst over it, because it’s just a fact. It is what it is. There is no point agonizing over whether his soul can be saved, because he knows it cannot. This is both a keystone of his character, and also something he doesn't spend a lot of time thinking about day-to-day, because it’s a settled matter. 

And as much as we love Eliot the character, he has a point that lives are not tradable for equivalent exchange. If he killed a specific family 25 years ago, that was snuffing out the light and potential and future of those particular parents and children. The surviving extended family lost those particular relatives. Saving a family now does not balance that ledger, because each person is a unique life and not interchangeable for another. While I may have different beliefs about Hell and redemption than Eliot, I still want to acknowledge that he has a point. That changing now doesn't necessarily help the people he hurt in the past, and unlike Harry, he can’t work down a list of making amends, because almost all of his victims are dead. There is no atonement to the dead. 

Eliot’s redemption is in seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, and helping others get to it. Particularly the team, and particularly the pair he’s going to protect until his dying day. He will stay down there in the dark forever (he believes), but getting the others out is his redemption. 

I do not believe that Eliot will actually go to Hell when he dies, but his belief that he is damned is fundamental to who he is as a character, and he is going to believe that for the rest of his life. It can be really challenging to balance that when writing his POV, particularly when delving into events that dredge this stuff up for him (which we writers love to do because it’s so delicious). Eliot doesn’t exactly have a low self-esteem. He knows he has many skills and is exceptional at them (cooking, fighting, grifting, guitar, sports, etc). He pretty much knows his teammates love him, and care about him, and want him to stay alive for them, and spend the rest of his life with them. He has professional pride, and he will argue when he wants something. He is certainly not a doormat. However, he also believes he is fundamentally and irrevocably a bad person. Balancing between him not being too self-deprecating in normal situations / about his usefulness to the team, with his inherent belief in his own moral depravity can be a thin blade to walk without falling to one side or another. But it is also one of the biggest aspects of his psyche that makes him such a fascinating and complex character to explore.

[taliesin-the-bored]

Tag game: tag nine people you’d like to know better.

Tagged by: @oneshoulderangel (Thank you for tagging me!)

Last song: At the moment, I have "Losing Your Memory" by Alan Star stuck in my head, which I suppose makes it my current song, not my last song. Hm. I get songs stuck in my head very easily, but the last one I had there for a significant amount of time was a mashup of different language versions of "Les Rois du Monde" for about a week. "Lehetsz Király", the Magyar version, is probably my favorite of them. It's worth a listen.

Currently watching: Normally, the answer would be "random mostly terrible old movies/shows" or "nothing much", but I currently have a hyperfixation on the musical Roméo et Juliette and have been watching it in multiple languages. (Thus, the song).

Three ships: This is hard. Maybe as a result of being on the ace and aro spectrums, I'm more likely to care about which characters are interacting than whether it's romantic or platonic. Here goes:

Kedivere/Bedikay. It can be romantic, platonic, or queerplatonic, but whichever way, I'm here for it. I probably spend too much time thinking about how in Cullwch and Olwen, when Cai gets mad at Arthur and marches out, Bedwyr stays behind, keeps acting like nothing's happened, and isn't the one to avenge Cai's death. The feeling of betrayal on both sides has a lot of unexplored potential. And the version where Bedivere dies and Kay fights to bring his body back safely while mortally wounded himself... And the version where Bedivere survives Camlann and Kay isn't said to fight in it, so they might be left together after their world has fallen apart...

Platonically or queerplatonically, Galahad and the Grail Heroine. I really like the tragic Grail Quest friendships, but I like theirs most, maybe because there's something weird and otherworldly about them both. I like it when characters are strange and endearing and doomed by the narrative.

Ever since reading John Matthews' retelling, which I read before the original, I've had a soft spot for Caradoc and Guinier. The Story of Caradoc is very disturbing, and I have some major qualms with Caradoc over a detail Matthews cut out, but all the same, there's a reason these two have the best track record with magical fidelity tests. Each of them would go to the ends of the earth for the other, and together, they're stronger than any curse.

Favorite Color: Blue, particularly royal blue and some teals.

Currently consuming: Black licorice with chocolate.

First ship: This is a hard one, since through elementary and most of middle school, I tended to go along with whatever I thought the author's intentions were and was more likely to unship something. The first non-endgame ship I got invested in was Sonya/Nikolai in War and Peace. I didn't like Nikolai, but Sonya did, and she was my favorite character, so I wanted her to be happy. The first non-canon couple I thought was meant to be together was also in War and Peace: Marya Bolkonskaya and Julie Karagina. My eighth grade self did not think their letters could be interpreted platonically. I still don't.

Last movie: If the musical doesn't count, the last movie I watched was Quest for Camelot, which was awful. Though not Robot Monster-level bad, Robot Monster has an elegance to its simplicity which Quest for Camelot lacks.

Currently working on: Various fics, most of them Arthuriana or CotRK-related (I am woefully behind on the Badfic Bingo), and (theoretically) an epic-style poem, though I haven't gotten much of it written for quite a while now.

Tagging: @gawrkin, @emperorcandy, @wildbasil, @gorewound, @knightsofsomethingorother, @ladyminaofcamelot, @tasosotaso, @amashelle, @gingersnaptaff (I have no idea who's been tagged so far, apart from the people on @oneshoulderangel's post, so I apologize for any multi-tags)

[hopeswriting]

tsuna's blood is on the 10th gen's hands the most. does anyone else ever think about that?

you know what i mean, right??? the 10th gen are also the ones who love tsuna the most, obviously, but they can't save him. they can't stop him. they can't even slow down the inevitable or make it less painful when it'll happen, because tsuna would never compromise on their happiness. he'd never give in an inch about their safety, not even for them. any amount of pain he can spare them, no matter how insignificant? he will spare them that pain, no matter the price he has to pay to make it happen.

there won't ever come a point where the 10th gen are able to save tsuna, because there won't ever come a point where they aren't the ones who love tsuna the most. and so of course, there won't ever come a point where tsuna will stop loving them back just as much, no matter what.

and tsuna would never see that as something that's killing him, but it is. and the 10th gen would never allow themselves to be the ones actually killing him, but how can it not feel like they are anyway? aren't they the ones really killing him, in a way?

tsuna will die and his blood will be on their hands the most. tsuna's dying and his blood is on their hands the most. and the only thing they can do is to make sure tsuna doesn't actually die before them, but maybe it's not the silver lining it ought to be.

maybe it's worse to know they'll look at tsuna one day, still breathing and alive, and won't see any of him left in his eyes. maybe it's worse to know the one thing they will be left of tsuna eventually, inevitably, is the love he has for them, all the more obvious because there will be nothing else of him left to see.

the 10th gen love each other so much, more than anything else in the world.

that's the worst thing that could have ever happened to them.

[gunpowder-gemini]

One thing that fucking gets me about people who don't like Revali or who like Revali but "only in Japanese because he's nicer" (iirc he isn't really people are confusing straightfoward with nice but whatever) is that they always bring up that scene on the Divine Beast after Link has freed him, where he says "I guess I was wrong about...how lucky he'd be." And everyone's like "oh he's such a sore loser he can't admit Link is better than him" which like ok YEAH but there's more to it than that. The thing that nobody actually talks about is the FUCKING PAUSE in the middle there, because he's not saying Link is lucky. He's actually admitting he was wrong about Link period. He's acknowledging (terribly) that Link is a better warrior than him, but he doesn't want to say that out loud because this jackass never says what he means. So he pauses there, because the audience is meant to expect that sentence to be "I guess I was wrong about him" and he wants to imply that. And then he says something dismissive to give himself plausible deniability because he's allergic to expressing genuine emotions. To understand Revali as a character you gotta understand what he's leaving unsaid. You have to look at his actions not his words, because if he truly thought Link was just lucky or not good enough he never would have given him his gale.

[calmparticles]

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[violetscanfly]

Once again I offer you art that I didn't post when it was made✌🏻 One thing I have learned is to never throw away your art because even if you don't immediately like it you might some day

[buttdumplin]

The sweet, lovely poly 141 boys and their Spanish-speaking latine partner.

This was meant to be a quick little thing, but boy did this get away from me lmao. This is the fluffiest shit I've ever indulged in and I love it. Big thank you to @mikichko for inspiring and helping with this!!!

cw: poly 141, gn!reader, latine reader, mexican slang, hint of d/s dynamics in Johnny's word count: 2.1K

Price, god love the man, is the one who seems to stumble the most. It's almost comical, considering the fact that Spanish and Arabic are so similar due to their histories. But there's a big difference between the Spanish he's learned to recognize and what you throw at him on the daily. He truly thinks it's because of his age, window of acquisition and all that. John does not expect to be able to speak fluently with you, but he does at least want to understand you. What he really wants, though, is to make you feel more fully at home with him, and he is forever grateful that you feel comfortable and safe enough with them to embrace all parts of your identity.

"Hola, amor mío. How was your day?" you greet him from the couch, eyeing him from tip to toe and almost whistling at seeing him in uniform. "Sigues rechulo, mi güerito, so I assume all went well?"

John swings down to kiss you, gripping the back of your neck to prolongue the kiss, trying to soak in as much of the affection as he can while also disguising the fact that he still doesn't fully recognize what came after.

"Yours was good too, I trust?"

"Yeah, but my brother called. El güey still con sus pinches mamadas and asking for my help. Aguas, in case he shows up this week."

"I... will keep an eye out, dove."

"Call me si les arma pedo and I'm not around."

He just nods sagely and squishes up against you on the couch, letting your warmth seep into his tired bones.

Later that evening, he rounds up the boys while you're in the shower and pulls out a small notebook where he's written things out phonetically. John may not have all the knowledge he needs, but he sure as hell is good at getting it.

"'Güey,' that's the brother's nickname?"

"No, that's like 'man/guy.' But it's also an insult. But not always," Johnny supplies.

"Fuck me, okay. 'Rechulo' is... I got nothing for that one."

"The 're' is for heavy emphasis, 'chulo' is 'cute/handsome/pretty.' 'Re' can go on practically any adjective," Simon steps in.

"'Aguas' and 'pedo' CANNOT be what they are, right?"

Kyle takes his hand and chuckles, "No, sweetheart. The first is like a warning, the second a fight or scene or scandal. In this context."

John's shoulders finally relax and he lets out a heavy sigh, putting the final touches on his notes of the day.

"Thank you, boys, for your patience and your kindness. And your secrecy," John huffs a little laughter and gives them his sweetest smile, the one where you can see the dimples poking out through the beard.

They all reach over to gently caress him, taking turns kissing the parts of him they can reach.

"Thank you, John, for trying so hard."

~

Beautiful, wonderful Kyle, the delight of a man that he is, is the one giving it as good as he gets. He's the one crooning in your ear, showering you with the most decadent terms of endearment, knowing full well they make your knees much weaker in Spanish. He'll use the advantage every single chance he has, don't doubt that for a second. But truly, it's the soft seclusion of those moments that he cherishes most, when you're looking up at him with big bright eyes, knowing you fully trust him to take care of you.

You're grumbling away as you wash dishes after dinner when Kyle comes up behind you, arms making the way slowly around your waist, chin dropping onto your shoulder.

"Oh, tesoro mío, look at you working away, working so hard for us."

You refuse to look at him and give a fussy pout. He knows it's your least favorite of the house duties. So much so that you're always willing to do almost anything as long as you don't have to touch wet food.

"It looks like you've done enough, cariño. Come join us in bed."

"No. None of you wanted to trade with me so se aguantan," you try to wiggle and bump his head away from yours.

"Come on, cosa hermosa, we need you with us to settle for the night," he pulls your hands from the water, drying them and turning you towards him.

You immediately bury your face into his chest. Can't look him in the eye, he'll win you over the moment you do.

"So they send in the smooth talker, huh?"

Kyle laughs, clear and bright, and he wraps you back up in his arms, gently cradling your head until you give in and look up at him.

"Or," he says, making you both rock gently, "I'm trying to sneak in a little solo time."

Your body melts against his as the words sink in, big eyes blinking softly up at him, "Besito?"

"As many as you want, mi vida. Until you grow bored of me," and you're letting out a sweet sigh as those soft lips meet yours.

His hands move to bring your body closer to his, to milk this quiet moment for as much contact as possible, to sear it all into his memory.

"You two are awfully quiet out there," Simon calls from the bedroom and it makes you break apart with a little jump.

You hear frantic rustling that has to be Johnny, "Hold on, what happened to doing the dishes!"

A chuckle escapes the two of you, sparkling eyes meeting in the low light from the stove hood. The sound of John huffing to get comfortable floats in from the bedroom.

"Just a minute more, hermosura," he mutters against your hair. "Wanna stay here a bit longer."

"Really liking all those pet names, aren't you?"

Kyle laughs again and gives you a squeeze, "Mean every single one of them."

And you happily linger, not pointing out that you've noticed an endearing pattern of Kyle wrapping up nights in the kitchen with you in his arms and a faint love song echoing down the hall for you two to sway to.

~

Beloved, darling Simon, he hides his own understanding of the language. He understands it nearly perfectly, with just the tiniest margin of error, nothing too big to bring attention to it. Overall, he's able to catch almost everything you mumble. It's not to be sneaky or anything like that, Simon would never do anything to compromise your privacy. It's more that he doesn't quite see the need to verbalize it. To him it's nothing special, no need to make a spectacle. Instead, he lets it seep into his actions, ever the acts of service lover that he is.

You're spread out on the couch, on the phone with your mother, complaining, "Como chingan los del trabajo. Me pidieron un reporte para el viernes y ahora me reclaman que todavía no se los he dado y apenas es miércoles."

There was a tension in your shoulders when you came home from work, he didn't miss that. Caught you jolting to a stop mid-stretch. And as the call goes on longer, Simon picks up on more.

"No he tenido chance de lavar ropa, ni una putisima pijama... Traigo un pinche antojo de mole, pero es un chingo de trabajo y ahorita no le puedo dedicar el tiempo..."

He quietly moves to gather the boys as you continue ranting and pace around the room. You're too caught up in your call to see them forming a massive huddle and their nodding at Simon right as the break and throw their joined hands in the air.

By the time you're off the phone, it's dark out and you notice the house is quieter than usual. You move to look for the boys (they can't have left without telling you, right?) when Simon pops out from the hall, crooked smile you love so much adorning his face, and he simply takes your hand to pull you into the bathroom. A hot bath greets you, some honeyed bath bomb already dissolving in the water and your laptop set up on a bucket besides the bath, your comfort show already pulled up and ready to play. Simon then points to your softest pajamas washed and set out on the counter for you.

"And you'll help me with my lotion too?"

He kisses your forehead, "When do I not?"

"The boys?"

"Setting up dinner. Kyle and I are making your favorite."

You whip around to face him, eyes wide and excited, "With fresh tortillas?"

With a low, affirmative hum Simon pulls you in closer and just holds you. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to. But he lends you his strength, which is all he can really hope for. The steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his arms around you help release the tightness in your body. Letting out your own little hum, you give him a squeeze and he squeezes back harder, crushing you in the way he knows you find comforting. There's a soft devotion in his tenderness with you, an unshakable support in every single thing you do.

"So you gonna undress me too, or...?"

A peal of laughter escapes you as he playfully swats at your butt, "Undress yourself. I've got cooking to do."

A day without hearing your laughter is a day poorly spent to Simon.

He's almost to the door when you pull him back into you, hands tugging on his shirt to bring him down to your height. His own laughter rumbles in his chest as you cover his face in loud kisses, and he stays locked in place. He will for as long as you need him to, never mind his back. If it's gonna go out eventually, he'd rather it go out from his time spent like this.

~

Johnny, bless the boy, is desperate to hear it, to have you address him directly. You speak plenty around the house, on phone calls with friends, talking back at the tv (some shows have been put on temporary bans, or at the very least you're not supposed to watch them alone), at the lovely crooked cat yall adopted. You shower them with pet names with every breath you take. And he loves it all! Loves that you so willingly share so much of yourself with them. But Johnny boy is dying for something specific- "Love, why don't you call me papi?"

When he voices it, it's a complete surprise. Simon and Kyle both laugh so hard so suddenly that they find themselves choking on their own spit. Price himself is caught so off-guard that he fully looks up from the dinner he's prepping in the kitchen, raw chicken slipping out of his hands and plopping back into the flour bowl. You at first laugh it off lightly, thinking it was one of his cutesy jokes he makes to get a giggle out of everyone. That would have made the most sense, honestly. But when he looks away, big blue eyes shining with the softest hint of embarrassment, it sinks in.

You shift in your seat a fraction, "Johnny, I don't even call any of you that in English. You know it's not exactly the same thing, right?"

"I know but the little old lady from the corner shop calls me "papi" and so does the older man who brings the water and other people too and it's always so affectionate and so I thought..."

He spares a glance at you, hoping he hasn't completely overstepped.

"Where did this come from?"

"Ale let it slip last time we grabbed coffee and the joy on Rudy's face was so blinding that I thought maybe we should try it."

"Honey--"

"Please, just once."

"But I--"

"It doesn't have to be a title! It can be soft and casual, no expectations."

"You don't--"

"I promise I'll be good for it."

Oh.

Your gaze meets the other boys' and you all take a good look at your Johnny. At some point during his pleading he brought himself down to kneel in front of you. His broad shoulders are slumped forward in submission, his hands clenched together so tightly his fingertips are completely white. Price nods at you, the other two eagerly nodding along as well.

Leaning forward, you grab him by the jaw, gently bringing his head to rest against your thigh.

Running your fingers through his hair, you utter out a low, "Sweet little thing like you just wants to be good, don't you papi?"

Johnny's eyes glaze over slightly, a shy, dazed smile growing on his face. There's not an ounce of hesitation in him as he nuzzles his face into your thigh, just sweet elation. Pleased grumbles escape the others, making Johnny's smile grow bigger.

You make sure to add it into your regular circulation.

[sillygoofyqueer]

Hmmmmm, you know what gang? I specifically remember talking about how I'd one day elaborate on a version of the mad scientist Wei Wuxian AU where he did go to the Cloud Recesses lectures. I think...I think today is that day! Wen Ruohan is much more confident in his manipulation and brainwashing of Wei Wuxian (and, consequently, Xue Yang, but that's not important right now) so, when the lectures held in the Cloud Recesses come around once again, he is much more willing to let the boy go. After all, it's important that he has as much knowledge as possible, and even better if those Lans are actually useful and the knowledge can be transferred into his experiments with resentful energy. Wen Qing and Wen Ning have to go along with him, to ensure that he doesn't learn anything that he shouldn't about the real world, but Xue Yang isn't old enough to go (because he's like...eight at this time). Wei Wuxian is a little bit reluctant to go if it means Xue Yang, but support from the most unlikeliest of places comes shooting in - Wen Xu is like "oh, this is one of the boys that likes training. I can keep him occupied." This move, of course, is a ploy for his fuqin's approval, and it works - Wen Ruohan wants Wei Wuxian to go, and Wen Xu gave them a way to make that happen without making him question the Wen.

He even does the polite thing and actually informs Lan Qiren of those attending the lectures; he doesn't want Wei Wuxian viewing the Wen as tyrants who show up when they want and don't follow any rules but their own, of course! Also, Wei Wuxian seems close to bursting with how desperately he wants to go, so Wen Ruohan doesn't trust that he won't try and leave early, in which case Lan Qiren would have a reason to turn them away for not following the schedule. He doesn't want to destroy the Lan just yet, so it's best to wait and pretend to be cordial for now. Lan Qiren gets the letter from the Wen and promptly (secretly, privately) freaks out because why are the Wen only now choosing to send disciples to the lectures?! And why are the disciples two members of the Dafan branch and Wei Changze and Cangse-Sanren's son?! What are the Wen planning, and how do the lectures tie into it? He can't just deny the Wen, not when they've made their arrival clear and are even bringing a gift 'as a sign of goodwill.'

All Lan Qiren can do is send a letter to the other major clans, telling them that the Wen will be in attendance and to make sure their disciples are all aware of the potential dangers. He himself tells Wangji and Xichen that they'll likely be up to something, so it's best to keep a close eye on them whenever possible, without risking their own safety of course. Warnings sent out, the time for the lectures come. Usually, the Nie come first, because Nie Mingjue often uses Nie Huaisang's grogginess in the morning to get him in before he can start complaining and planning his escape. However, a Lan disciple comes to him as he ensures everything is set up for the first class, telling him that the Wen are early. Nobody even considered that possibility, what with the Wen often taking delight in dramatic and boisterous entrances that display power, but Lan Qiren is quick to adjust and goes out to greet them himself, if only to ensure they don't try anything the moment they step into the sect.

He will admit to having completely demonised the disciples in his mind due to their clan, and so is rather put out when, instead of three devilish and obviously scheming disciples, he's greeted with three rather normal looking teenagers. The two Wen appear to be siblings, Wen Qing with standing front and centre as though to draw attention away from the boys, dark eyes steady and determined like a doctor. The other Wen - Wen Qionglin - is much more subdued, shoulders curled inwards the slightest bit and eyes tilted towards the ground, a bow upon his back rather than a sword. It's easy to spot which one's Wei Wuxian, those silver eyes and high cheekbones nothing if not an indicator of his mother and father's genes, and he looks positively awed as he does a slow spin of the area, not having noticed him yet. 'Nobody mentioned how pretty the Lan sect was,' Wei Wuxian laughs to the Wen, of which Wen Qing doesn't even look over but Wen Qionglin smiles slightly at him.

Lan Qiren clears his throat as he approaches fully, gaining all of their attention and causing Wei Wuxian to almost tumble in his haste to turn around properly and bow alongside the siblings, murmuring greetings to him in unison. As they bow, he takes a closer look at them - Wen Qing does not appear to be a fighter, but Wen Qionglin's calloused and scarred hands make it very clear that the bow is not just for show. Wei Wuxian's...It takes a lot to not react to what he sees there. The boy's hands are stained black, following his veins and fully colouring his crooked fingers, fainter towards his wrists, where they disappear into his sleeves and hide the rest from view. Lan Qiren can only assume that resentful energy is the cause, but he cannot react given the circumstances, so he drags his eyes away and gestures for them to stand. Wen Qing takes charge of the pleasantries, cordial and straightforward, and Wen Qionglin just watches his sister with the same awe Wangji used to (and still sometimes) look at Xichen with.

Wei Wuxian is obviously trying to remain focused, eyes occasionally straying to look at something in the distance but almost immediately snapping back to him with a wince. If this is an indicator of his attention span, Lan Qiren is concerned for how classes will proceed. Nonetheless, Wen Qing eventually mentions the gift they have brought for the Lan, and Wei Wuxian lights up in obvious excitement, Wen Qionglin finally looking away from his sister to grin at Wei Wuxian as the latter steps forwards and holds out both a scroll and a talisman? Lan Qiren takes it, not showing his hesitance as he glances over the talisman design - he will not pretend to know very much about talismans aside from what every cultivator new, but he has never seen a design like this before - and unrolls the scroll. He doesn't even need to scan it, not with Wei Wuxian enthusiastically explaining what the talisman actually does.

According to the boy, he 'heard that you have an extensive library - something I've been super excited to see!' and so decided to make a talisman that would make looking for a book easier. All one needs to do is activate the talisman, clearly state either the name of the book or a specific topic, and let the talisman lead the way to the book. Then he goes off into the specifics of how he made it work, and quite firmly loses Lan Qiren, but it's enough to signal that Wei Wuxian is certainly not going to be challenged by the classes if he engineered an entirely new talisman 'on the boat over!' after scrapping his original idea out of the blue. Lan Qiren stares at the boy for a moment, before finally finding his words to thank the Wens and receiving yet another bow in return as Wei Wuxian shifts back into his original place flanking Wen Qing's left. Wen Qionglin just looks amused, while Wen Qing seems rather exasperated, but there is a slight glint of pride in her eyes. Well, Lan Qiren is a teacher. He is not one to back down from a challenge.

[tomialtooth]

Very interesting how in the duga ending Perseus is genuinely delighted that you're still alive and welcomes you back as his comrade with open arms and he's supposed to be the bad guy whereas the "good guys" of the game make it very clear in their treatment of you that they do not think of you as a person let alone their friend.