#The Importance of Loving Jin

[jkvjimin]

the 'face card never declines' series starring: kim seokjin for kayla 🌼 @cordiallyfuturedwight

[rjshope]

Seokjin birthday live | 191204 (aka the one with him looking so effortlessly gorgeous)

for @jinstronaut✨

+ bonus: his dongsaengs love language

[dalbit0]

i think ljy should be y/n

[dearmyloveleys]

as much as I enjoy reading discourse on why this person and that person did that in mdzs, sometimes I feel like we think too much on them and it really is just… the characters are just… human… (referencing people in the main cast) They do things whatever they think is right and wrong, because of their own histories, upbringing and personalities. It’s inevitable that they clash with others, which escalates emotions and events. Their very superficial society doesn’t help at all. With everything coming together in a shitshow, this makes all their stories so damn painful and tragic.

This doesn’t mean that I excuse characters who inflict more harm on others. I acknowledge and don't want to take away whatever any character experienced. Being human doesn't excuse shitty behaviour. But still, I feel for them that they had to resort to/end up in their respective ways to make it through their loveless world. I want to focus on the greyness of humanity behind everything that happens in the story. One of the many thematic concerns that resonate with me is how much of us as humans are black and white (as such, we debate on the characters’ place on this spectrum, because of their actions). 不说黑白, Never black or white. Even if it nears the blackened end, it still never goes pitch black.

I say 人就是人，人就是这样 — People are people, people are simply like this. We all can be kind, we all curse out. We are all insecure about something. We laugh, we cry. We write love songs as much as easily as we write hateful messages. One day our loved ones and friends are around, and the next day, they aren’t anymore. There are times in our past that we can never return to and we can do nothing but move on with our own ways of coping, for what we think will be a better life for us. For better or worse.

Amidst all the viciousness and pettiness of the jianghu, mdzs touches on our tragedies and fallacies as people just trying to make sense of an unfeeling world, with unjust consequences and impartiality. Many of the mdzs characters try, and they fail. Isn’t this how our own reality is? How many of us have the privilege of a denouement to our own stories?

We can all have our personal opinions on the characters and their actions, but do not deny them their humanity or whatever shred of it is left.

[lgbtlunaverse]

Life as a JGY stan is so hard because sometimes I want to make posts about the ways his very justified paranoia turns against him sometimes, rare moments where I think being more trusting or vulnerable would have helped but he felt like it couldnt, or talk about how his brutal survival instinct intersects with society's existing bigotries in a such a way that most of his violence is actually aimed at people lower on the ladder than him, with people like Jin Guangshan being the exception not the rule. Because he's a fascinating character and these parts of him are interesting!

But when I do that I have to live in perpetual fear of the moment that it escapes its target audience and someone takes it to go "Yeah he's a monster who fucked over everyone and is incapable of love! I wish he was killed earlier and his death was a thousand times more painful 🤪"

I mean, take my last example. Due to existing hierarchies it is, at any point, easier and safer for jgy to harm people less powerful than him instead of more powerful than him, even if the more powerful are the ones threatening his safety in the first place. Even knowing how it harms him and while working against it, Jin Guangyao is not immune to internalizing the mindset of the world he lives in. Even when killing Jin Guangshan- one man- it ends up costing the lives of 20 sex workers. You think I can bring up the sex workers in this fucking fandom? You think that will go over peacefully? The well has been so thoroughly poisoned here it feels like any conversation around morality automatically turns into a courtroom to determine a sentence for this fictional fucking character who's already dead.

[khattikeri]

drives me nuts when people treat jin guangyao or wei wuxian like they're socialist revolutionaries like no! they're not!! in fact their respective roles in society and complacency regarding its hierarchies is why ANY of the story even happens to begin with!!!

jin guangyao doesn't hold bitterness just because he was born lower class. he is bitter because others deride him and his prostitute mother in spite of both their intelligence, skills, and efforts to climb the ladder.

why do you think we were shown scenes of other prostitutes in the brothel deriding meng shi for being literate, for "trying" so hard? why do you think we were shown scenes of anxin taunting meng yao and throwing shit at him because he was trying to learn cultivation at his mother's behest?

why do you think jin guangyao arranged for the arson of that brothel, burned to the ground with everyone except sisi inside? that's not the behavior of someone who believes in true equality and the inherent worth of sex workers as human beings!

that's the behavior of someone who thinks he's better than them. the behavior of a man who already came up on top through political games and war crimes, backstabbing and spying for the sake of the "greater good".

i won't rehash his argument to nie mingjue that he didn't have a choice-- he had some choice, but no matter what he does his class will come up and people will always assume the worst and try to hurt him for it, which forces his hand to do whatever will protect him best (hence 'no choice').

jin guangyao did everything he could to secure his own safety and a place among those already higher up. and by that point, he'd won it.

the fact that the temple rebuilt on the brothel site is to guanyin, the goddess of mercy, is even more ironic! the fact that jin guangyao has the goddess's statue carved to look like his own mother is proof that he viewed both her and himself as higher than them. more worthy than them.

of course he cared about the general welfare of others (read: the watchtowers). but consider also that there is no watchtower near yi city, which ended up being one of xue yang's playgrounds. jin guangyao can and will turn a blind eye to certain sufferings if it is convenient to him.

sure, jin guangyao made undeniable contributions to cultivation society and accessibility, but he is not at any point trying to topple existing class structures. his adherence to them is in fact integral to his own downfall in the end.

it brings with it the inevitability of society conveniently ignoring his triumphs and genuine moments of humanity to deride him once more as an evil, disgusting son of a whore once his crimes come to light.

now for wei wuxian. he's the righteous protagonist of the story and he doesn't give a fuck what society thinks, yes, but he wasn't out there trying to cause an uprising so that all the poor servant classes and lower could become cultivators. he wasn't trying to redistribute wealth or insinuate that those who are lower deserve to be viewed as equal to the gentry.

the most critical and non-explicitly stated fact of mo dao zu shi is that wei wuxian has always been resigned to his position in the social hierarchy.

his unreliable narration, especially regarding his own past and thoughts, is so damn important. he doesn't EVER tell the reader directly that people treated him any which way at their leisure because of his parents' differing social classes.

no. instead we are shown how much prestige he is afforded as cangse-sanren's son-- reputation as a talented and charming young cultivator, made head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang-- and how little respect he is given in the same breath, as the son of servant wei changze.

the way he is treated by others is as fickle as the wind. if he obeys and does as told, there is no reward. of course he did that, that was the expectation to start with! if he does anything even slightly inconvenient, there is a punishment. of course he has no manners, what else would you expect from an ungrateful son of a servant?

wei wuxian's righteousness is not a matter of adhering to principles he was explicitly taught, the way nie mingjue values honor or the way jiang cheng always tries to prove himself. wei wuxian does the right thing regardless of what the consequences are to him because his good deeds are always downplayed and his bad deeds are always singled out, no matter who or how many people were doing it with him.

he has faced this double standard since childhood. there are points in the novel where it's clear that this sticks out to wei wuxian, but does he ever fight back against that view of himself? does he EVER, at any point in the story, explain his actions and choices to jianghu society and try to debate or appeal to their sense of reason?

no. because he knows, at his very core, that any explicit deviation from their interests whatsoever will be punished.

slaughtering thousands of people is fine when they want him to do it, and when the alternative is unjust torture, re-education camps, and encroachment upon other sects' lands.

slaughtering thousands of people who are trying to paint him as evil for not going along with their genocidal plans, however, is punished.

wei wuxian knows his acceptance among the higher classes is superficial and unsteady. from the age of 10, when jiang fengmian took him in, he knew subconsciously that he could be kicked out at any time.

he knows that cultivation society doesn't care about war crimes and concentration camps and mistreatment of the remaining wen survivors of the sunshot campaign. but the right thing to do now that they aren't at wartime is to help them, plus they'd punish him either way for it, so he will.

in this regard wei wuxian is more self-aware of his position than jin guangyao. he does care about common people and he does try his best to help them as an individual. even if that ends up with him disabled, arrested, targeted in sieges, or dead.

but is he revolutionary? in the full equality, fight the establishment, rewrite laws, change social structures and people's perceptions of class sense?

no. no. he isn't.

now my knowledge of chinese society and history is fairly limited to my hindu diaspora upbringing and our shared cultural similarities ... but speaking to what i absolutely know us true, adherence to one's social class is expected.

this is rigid. efforts and merits might bring you some level of mobility, but in the end, the circumstances of your birth will always be scrutinized first, and your behavior compared to the stereotypes of where and how you originate.

mdzs is not about revolution, and none of its characters are able to truly change its society. there is no grand "maybe cutsleeves aren't inherently bad" or "i'm sorry for persecuting you and believing hearsay, you were truly a good person all along!" at the finale.

people ignore history and repeat it again with the next batch of ugly gossip and rumors.

wei wuxian, lan wangji, and luo qingyang find peace only by distancing themselves from cultivation society and its opinions.

jin guangyao and wei wuxian both cannot ever escape from others' perception of their origins and actions. regardless of their personal beliefs, they are not revolutionaries.

[yangsejongs]

people willfully misunderstanding the whole point of cho yeong’s arc was not to return to who she was but to grow and find a purpose in life that she chose for herself

[trans-xianxian]

obsessed w the scene where wei wuxian goes to jinlintai to ask about wen ning, because when he comes in, while he Has sort of crashed their party, he is still, Technically, following all of their social rules. he's polite, and courteous, and respectful. he tries to speak with jin zixun away from everyone else first, he's well spoken and appropriately vague, he doesn't say anything when everyone continues to insult him directly to his face. they all know what he Means but he is, technically, still behaving exactly as a respectable cultivator should. and then it sort of starts to go sideways, and you're like uh oh. we can still make it out of here unscathed tho I bet. he hasn't said anything crazy yet. but then wei wuxian looks jin guangshan in his face and says "please allow me to ask another question - does jin zongzhu think that without the qishan wen sect, lanling jin is supposed to take it's place naturally? so everything should be handed over to you, and everyone should follow your orders?", which is insane,

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy day one of Chatember, starting it off with strong with the Thunderclan (Jin) leader, Jin Guangshan (Lionstar)

(Name and AU credits to @clintbeefwoods!)

[eternal-brainrot]

happy birthday to my beloved one and only a-yao!!!! light of my life who deserves all the love and appreciation on his birthday <333

[jinstronaut]

get to know me : bts edition

2 / 7 solo tracks → epiphany

[epiphanytear]

Shining me, precious soul of mine

[scalproie]

Heichachi: So sad that even tho I love my family I had to put them down for being devils and destined for evil 😔 Alas there was no other way 😔

Jun, kissing Kaz and hugging Jin: Skill issue.

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

can't think too hard about kyoko bc if i try to think about that photo of her from her father's office where she's small and happy and her hands are unblemished and she can't possibly imagine the ordeals she will encounter. and then that which she DID encounter which turned her from that little happy kid to her now, cold, unyielding, blackened hands and a brain that won't stop, a perseverance that just keeps pushing her and pushing her, and a heart that is so so so afraid to let anyone in at all...i think im going to kill her grandfather

[stylographic-blue-rhapsody]

good morning it is again blorbos-from-my-game hours

.

729 PD, Rosohna. Luminata Eve

Espen’s hands twitched behind her back, held in a stiff soldier’s attention to keep from picking anxiously at her hakama. She had attended Luminata Eve celebrations with nobility in years past, hosted by Den Beltune, but this was the first time she had been brought as a guest-companion to a ruling Den’s party. She had objected at first when Fyrna invited her along, but eventually gave in to the teasing requests and agreed. She regretted this lapse in resolve.

“And anyway,” Fyrna said with a grin, “That’s why I told him he should pick up a glaive instead. I know your Den’s traditional choice is the longsword, but you should see how he wields a polearm. It was a really clever use of an echo in combination with the weapon reach. Naturally talented, aren’t you, Lieutenant Thelyss?”

Verin Thelyss, eldest son of Den Mother Deirta Thelyss, blushed faintly over his stoic expression and demurred politely as his mother looked at him appraisingly. Espen’s nerves over being included in conversation with an Umavi had been soothed as soon as Fyrna had started talking: the Moonsage seemed perfectly content to be swept up in complimentary stories of her son by his martial mentor and ignore her entirely. Fyrna’s casual charm and self assured gregariousness made it easy to linger silently in the periphery.

A sudden crash and snarled insult in the center of the room interrupted the first words of Den Mother Thelyss’ reply. From Espen’s side, a thrumming burst of dunamis raised the hair along her arms and at the back of her neck like standing in an electrical storm. Espen stuttered, first towards the noise and then jerking back to look at her wife, only to find Fyrna absent: beside her was instead a shimmering, tangible shadow bearing an impression of Fyrna’s likeness.

A dunamantic echo. Espen’s hand flew instinctively to her unbelted hip in search of a sword that wasn’t there. Fyrna would not generate an echo without the presence of a real threat. Espen whirled back towards the commotion at the center of the room, seeking the source of the trouble.

The spectacle she found was not one of the sort of danger that had her heart racing in anticipation, but perilous nonetheless. At the center of the tableau stood Fyrna, grip tight on the wrist of a noblewoman whose palm was raised in a striking gesture. Usola Omrifar, Espen’s thinking brain recalled helpfully—politically powerful and friendly with the Moonsage. Behind Fyrna, an adolescent half-Kryn server was cradled in the arms of a second dunamantic echo, apparently having prevented him from falling into the mess of wine and shattered glass on the floor from a dropped tray. Belatedly, Espen noticed the dark, wet splash across Lady Omrifar’s kimono: a collision between the noblewoman and the server.

The room was still for a few heartbeats, the crowd collectively frozen with tension. In the hush, Espen couldn’t help the awe that surged in her chest and buzzed along her skin.

Taskhand Fyrna Beltune, heir to Den Beltune and Espen’s beloved wife, was so fucking beautiful. The demonstration of power via fine-tuned control of not one but two echoes was radiant and all-consuming. The shadow beside Espen was so dense with dunamis that her vision warped at the edges, creating a duplicating effect that made her feel as though she could see into the alternate timeline it came from if she could just focus hard enough. A pressure began to build in her sinuses, uncomfortable magical resonance flaring outwards along her Luxonmark.

Taskhand Fyrna Beltune was a legion of one, and resplendent.

Time seemed to jerk back into motion when Fyrna tipped her chin at Usola and said lowly, “Cool off. You dishonor your station, Lady.”

However quietly she spoke, the calm command carried easily to the outskirts of the room. The guests in immediate proximity to the scene stepped back, and if the mood weren’t so tense Espen might have laughed at the pair of Den guards at the entrance of the hall as they straightened unconsciously.

Lady Omrifar snarled and tried to wrench her hand away. Fyrna’s grip held fast, letting the older woman struggle futilely for a beat longer than necessary before letting go. Usola spat, “That clumsy, half breed brat spilled the whole tray on me! It’s ruined the silk!”

“The drink is easily removed by simple prestidigitation.” Drily, she added, “If you’d like proof of this, we can find another tray of drinks and dump it down my uniform as well. I am confident someone here will help us out.”

Lady Omrifar’s cheeks, which Espen noted were already flushed with drink and rage, grew darker. Her voice pitched upwards, and she said, “All that glass is dangerous! He could have hurt me!”

Fyrna’s even expression broke, mouth twisting in contempt. “But you were not hurt, and in fact, it was you who ran into him. If there is any redress to be made, it is to the kid.”

Did she run into the server? Espen hadn’t known anything was happening until the crash, but wasn’t surprised that Fyrna had had eyes on what happened. Her reaction speed made that clear enough. As Lady Omrifar sputtered, Fyrna glanced over her shoulder at the boy, now steady on his feet but looking as if he might throw up. “What’s your name?”

The boy jumped, hands fisting at the edge of his uniform, gaze darting between Fyrna and her echo beside him. “Um, it’s R-Rhiah, Taskhand. Rhiah Thalphen.”

Fyrna said coolly, “Lady Omrifar, you should apologize or take your leave. If you do neither, I pledge myself to Rhiah Thalphen to act as his sword, voice, or hand, should he demand an honor challenge.”

Behind her, Rhiah stammered a protest, but neither woman paid him any mind.

“This is not your home, Beltune. You are not an authority here,” Lady Omrifar hissed.

“I agree with Taskhand Beltune.”

Espen turned, surprised to see Verin Thelyss step forward. He glanced at his mother, and Espen could not parse the expression on her face, but Verin clearly could. He continued, “Den Thelyss does not endure abuse of our hands.”

“But she—”

“Come with me, Lady Usola.”

The murmurings around the room hushed completely in the wake of the Moonsage’s gentle, gravel-voiced command. Omrifar’s face paled to a sickly grey. She bowed stiffly, and the crowd parted to allow her to trail after Deirta Thelyss’ graceful, unhurried stride from the hall. She gave Fyrna a poisonous look over her shoulder before vanishing through the doorway.

Chatter resumed like a thunderclap once the two noblewomen were out of sight, but the crowd maintained a wide berth from Fyrna and the server. Verin strode to them, nodded at Fyrna and then offered a bow to Rhiah. The boy scrambled to bow back, stammering ungracefully through whatever formal apologies Verin was making to him, and fled as soon as he was given a dismissal.

As Fyrna and her protégé leaned in to speak together in hushed tones, Espen let out the breath she was holding. That could have gone much worse, if Verin and his mother had not backed Fyrna in the escalation of the conflict.

[Oh, the Moonsage is not happy about any of this.] Espen jumped at the voice ringing with laughter in her head. It took her a few scans, but eventually she found him—Jinoire Olios, beloved friend and traitor, wiggled bejeweled fingers at her in greeting from sixty paces across from her in an alcove at the edge of the hall.

[You read the Moonsage’s thoughts? Are you daft?] Espen thought back furiously as she pushed her way through the crowd to his hiding spot.

[Of course not, she has some sort of nondetection up. I got that from baby Thelyss.]

[Do not call him that, he’s your coworker.]

“I will call him whatever I please until he outranks me,” Jin said cheerfully when Espen reached speaking distance. “Which will be never, because the day he surpasses me is the day I retire.”

“You are not going to reach retirement, Olios, because I am going to kill you for telling me you were not coming and that I would have to attend this awful party alone, then showing up anyway.”

Jin scoffed, tugging her into a brief embrace and kissing her cheek. Up close, she could see the soft shimmer of cosmetic glitter on his skin and smell his peony perfume. “You weren’t alone, Beltune is here! And the party is quite nice. Have you tried the octopus? Apparently they had it magicked to keep it fresh all the way from the Emerald.”

“Like Hells, I ‘wasn’t alone.’ I have not spoken to a single person since I got here because Fyrna was occupied doing the Den Heir thing.” Espen pulled away more quickly than usual and straightened her haori. She knew the focus wasn’t on the two of them, uninteresting in comparison to the Heirs still at the center of the room, but it was instinctual: too many unkind things could be said—had been said—about her overt displays of physical affection. “Where’s Trestilya?”

“Khith has a stronger backbone than you or me,” Jin informed her. “They didn’t cave to Beltune. They’re spending tonight in the Coronas with Bas.”

“Bastard.”

“We should join them after this! I can’t imagine staying much longer, not after that display.”

The warmth Espen felt at discovering Jin at the party faded slightly as she glanced back towards Fyrna and Verin. “What did you overhear?”

“A bit of this and that. Enough to paint a picture.” He hummed and performatively inspected his fingernails, lacquered in sapphire blue. Disconcertingly, his voice once again echoed in her head, but there was no movement of his lips, or somatic gesture made with his hands, or even a telltale pulse of arcane energy. Espen would never get used to his ability to manipulate the Weave with nothing but force of will. [Thelyss thinks his mother would have preferred that to have been handled more subtly, but I imagine that would have been difficult, considering how intent Omrifar was on making a scene.]

“Elaborate, please.”

“Well,” Jin murmured, still picking at his manicure, “She was drunk, obviously. But just this month her sister was named successor to their mother as Den matriarch instead of her like she’d expected. Needed to take all that frustration out on someone inconsequential, I suppose.”

Espen’s mouth twisted with disgust. She said, “What else?”

[The Moonsage doesn’t like drama in her own home. She cares about subtlety. Probably would have preferred to have coaxed Omrifar outside first and made apologies to the kid later.] Jin raised a hand to cover his satisfied smirk with his fingers. “But Beltune decided to make sure Omrifar was properly, publicly shamed for it. Light, that was so sexy of her.” He peered out from the alcove to scan the room. “Where did she run off to? I need to propose marriage.”

Even as she worried for the social consequences, Espen couldn’t agree more. That Fyrna would fight this battle in someone else’s home—an Umavi’s, no less—without knowing whether or not she would be supported by the hosting Den made her so damn proud. And Verin! Espen was sure that his support had tipped the scales in her favor, forcing his mother to either show a united front with her beloved son or openly suggest friction within her Den. She might still reprimand Fyrna for it later, but for now, at least, they were on the same side.

“Taskhand, my precious demagogue!” Jin laughed as Fyrna found them at the edge of the crowd, bowing dramatically low over clasped hands when she approached. “Please reconsider the offer for my hand in marriage. I have so many relatives I would love for you to correct the way you corrected that hag.”

Fyrna grinned in reply. “You know, Olios, I don’t have to be married to you to be introduced to them.”

“But the sting would be so much sharper if it came from my wife,” Jin sighed wistfully.

She chuckled, and then her amusement turned softer as she looked at Espen. “Hello, starshine.”

Espen smiled. Light, she loved her. “Hello.”

“Khith is with Bas in the Coronas. Want to finish the night out at a party that’s actually fun?” Jin asked Fyrna.

“Will there be orc-stuff?”

He snorted. “Don’t ask stupid questions. Bas’s sister is hosting, obviously there will be orc-stuff.”

“Fuck yes.” Fyrna glanced over her shoulder. “I should probably wait to leave until Den Mother Thelyss returns, at least. Make my proper goodbyes and all that. Meet you both at Neref’s in an hour or two?”

“You got it, boss.”

Espen reached out to squeeze Fyrna’s hand before following Jin towards the foyer. “Good work.”

“Hush. Love you, too.”