#and feels reflective of an entitlement that is really really off-putting

[lhazaar]

like i'm not just talking out of my ass. one of my many side job hats is helping people apply for canada council for the arts grants. he would be a fantastic candidate if he hadn't, yknow, burned that bridge

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

There's something in the differing emphasis that Brad and Hunter and Charles place on the phrase "good guy" that really affected me on my first watch and hit even harder on my second. I'm going to try and put it into words.

When Brad and Hunter say it, they say "we're good guys", as in, good at everything a guy "should" be good at - good at sports, popular with the ladies, on their way to a good university. But they turn out to be total shitheads. They don't care about being "good", they just care about their reputation, how they're perceived. It's status and power - they're good guys and they feel entitled to do whatever they want.

But when Charles, feeling betrayed by this reveal of their character, says he wanted them to be good guys, the emphasis is completely different. Charles wants to be a "good guy". He doesn't want to be a "bad guy".

The emphasis is on good, because that's really the crux of Charles' greatest fears, isn't it?

When Charles wants to be a good guy, he doesn't mean it the way Brad and Hunter do; that veneer of goodness that comes with popularity. He means that nothing he did was ever good enough for his dad. Doing the good thing and helping that kid his "friends" were beating up literally got him killed. Trying to stop Devlin only got him trapped in the loop, stuck until his friends freed him, only able to watch helplessly as a mother and her innocent children get slashed to death before his eyes.

And it's this helplessness that is the thing that truly sets him off at the end of episode 4.

It always struck me just how much of his breakdown there, for as much as he finally gives a voice to his own hurt at the injustice of his situation, was still about other people. Because he was secure-ish, at one point, when he was Edwin's partner and protector. He thought he did a good job at it anyways, but guess not, because something obviously happened with Edwin and he's not talking to him about it. And he likes to think he did good with solving cases, but Crystal is still hurting and haunted by a demon and nearly threw herself off a cliff earlier that day because she wants her parents so badly, and he's no closer to helping her solve that. And all of it, every single part of it, is a reflection of his own unresolved trauma; that he never "made it better" and he can't, so now he tries to be good enough for other people, but that isn't working anymore either, and now someone is threatening to take Edwin away, and even this final shocking act of anger and violence is still in service of protecting; of saving someone from the suffering he was never able to escape except by fucking dying.

His anger, really, stems from the injustice of it all, and the abuse of power by guys who can get away with it because they're guys, when they should've, could've, been good to others instead. It's a large part of why he projected so strongly onto Brad and Hunter - they did everything right, they were good guys who got screwed over, because even if everyone seems to love you, there's always that one person you can never please, right? Who will hurt you, no matter how good you are. When it's revealed that Brad and Hunter are far more like his bullies, like Devlin, like his dad, than he'd thought - controlling, intolerant, cruel to those who "step out of line" - Charles feels betrayed and horrified because he related to them... so what does that say about him?

But here's one major difference that Charles does not seem to recognize well. Charles has never had the power in these situations. He was the victim, and his being the victim is through no fault of his own, but the fault of those who decided to be cruel. It is certainly not contingent on how good he is. Being good in the eyes of people who want to hurt you will not stop them from hurting you.

When he lashes out at the Night Nurse, it's out of helplessness and rage. Once again, he's pitted against someone who holds more power than he does and is threatening harm, and he's just been bitterly, brutally reminded that a smile and a helping hand and a firm word never, ever worked to make it stop. There's only one other way he can think of to shift the balance of power, and he's finally livid enough to actually do it. This violence is a desperate attempt to finally overcome yet another force much greater than him, a transdimensional entity that has unjustly arrived to take his best friend to Hell. And Charles wins, he did it, he stopped her, at least for the moment. But at what cost, when he looks at his friends and can't tell whether they look more scared for him or of him? And can he blame them, when he's clearly scared of his own anger and how overwhelming it is now that it's been let out?

Because he tries so hard to be good and it's never good enough to stop the suffering. Because that anger rose to the surface so easily and maybe that means he's not good at all.

But of course, Charles once again misses something important here - there is a distinction in why that anger exists. His dad, Devlin, and Brad and Hunter get angry because their power over others makes them feel they have a right to punish when things don't go their way. Charles gets angry because he feels more helpless than he'd care to admit, and seeing cruelty inflicted onto others by those with power makes him want to cut them down to size.

And herein lies the second major difference. Charles... is a kind person, at heart. He's genuine. He really does likes helping out, he likes making people happy, he doesn't turn people away who need help, he's friendly and protective. The scene where Edwin pulls him out of his fear that he's somehow bad even though he really doesn't want to be, is outright one of my favourite scenes for what it brings to both of their characters. Edwin knows exactly what to say. While it's always good to check your behaviour, to apologize and take accountability - because no one can be good all the time, and even the most well-intentioned of us will mess up sometimes - Edwin is right.

"Bad guys do not worry about being bad guys."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Machinist 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible bullying, misogyny, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your new boss sets his sights on you. (short!reader)

Characters: August Walker

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

You sit out on your front porch watching the lazy sun. It’s one of the rare days off where you’re not bogged down in chores. Just you and swing and a cup of coffee. After the week you had, you need the moment to just not think. 

You close your eyes and lean your head back. It’s the simple things. All you ever wanted was a place to call your own. You got a job that pays for all that. A job you’re good at but one you enjoy less by the day. 

A honk startles you from your serenity. You open one eye and slowly put your chin straight. The shiny black jaguar is out of place on the sleepy street. A few of the kids playing ball in the neighbours driveway stop to point and stare. Your curiosity hardly awakens as you guess at its driver before he appears. 

August steps out, almost comically big for the sleek sportscar. You sip your coffee and sway on the chains. He tilts his head in challenge as he comes around the hood. 

“Didn’t forget about little old me, did you?” He asks. 

“Just having a coffee,” you answer bluntly. You didn’t forget but hoped he did. 

“You’ll need the energy, I’m sure,” he comes down the walk, almost strutting.  

He doesn’t have his usual cap and flannel. His hair is combed neatly and he wears a navy tee so tight, you can see his muscles. You’re not sure they make any clothing that would fit him appropriately. You continue to drink and stare past him. 

“I’m sure google would be more helpful. That car has bluetooth, doesn’t it?” 

“Not as entertaining he insists, “you’re hardly dressed for a day out.” 

You hum and look down at yourself. You wear a pair of grey-green jogging pants and a loose tee; your usually affair for the week. Alone. You sigh and drain the last of the dark roast. 

“Go get changed,” he orders. 

You look at him but don’t move. His entitlement tweaks your eye brow. You take a breath and let it go slowly. 

“Now don’t go getting uppity,” he warns with a wag of his finger, “we might not be at work, but I’m still the boss,” he climbs the porch steps one at a time and stops, leaning on the post beside him, “aren’t I, princess?” 

You stand with the cup in hand, “sir. I’ll go throw on some jeans.” 

“Skirt,” he corrects you. 

“Don’t have any.” 

“Dress, then. I wanna see your legs.” 

You nearly crumple up in disgust. You repress a snarl and swallow, “none of those either.” 

“If it wasn’t indecent, I’d say naked,” he retorts, “since you only dress like some teen boy. Shorts, then, I’m sure you can find something.” 

You blink dully, “I’ll have to look around. Might take a while.” 

“If I have to come in there,” he warns. 

“Five minutes,” you relent and spin on your heel. 

Despite your promise, you are anything but expedient. You rinse out the mug and leave it in the rack. You make your way upstairs and open your dresser, not paying much mind to any of it. You really don’t have what he’s looking for. You aren’t what he’s looking for. You’re sure he could hit the bar downtown and find a pretty bimbo. 

You pull on a plain burgundy tee and the black jean shorts with a run in one leg. You check your reflection but don’t put much into fixing it. You look fine. Teeth brushed, moisturized, what else can you do? 

As you come downstairs, you’re annoyed to find him in your entryway. He has no shame. He shuffles through the mail on the corner table. You reach for your blue sneakers. He coughs and turns to watch you. 

“Definitely not the heel type, are ya?” He remarks. 

You shrug and tie the laces. You stand straight and grab your denim jacket and keys. He reaches to stop you, grabbing the other sleeve. 

“Whatcha covering up for?” 

You nearly roll your eyes. You won’t give him the fodder. You let go and tuck the keys into the small pocket of the short. You grab your wallet and put it on the other side of your hips. 

“We’ll fix this,” he flicks his finger up and down. “I know you think you can run with the big boys but you’re a woman underneath it all. No point tryna hide.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“I didn’t ask,” he growls, “that’s a problem too. You talk when I want you to.” 

You should tell him to fuck himself. You should spit in his face. By the smug smirk dimpling in his cheek, that’s exactly what he wants. No. You’ll let him get bored. You wipe your expression and blink. 

“Well?” He huffs. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good girl,” he reaches to pat your head like a dog. You try not to wince away, repulsion roiling from his touch. You lift your chin instinctively and he narrows his eyes, stepping closer as he does. He snickers as sets his jaw square, “don’t worry, I know how to break a stubborn bitch like you. Make her into a loyal little hound slobbering for my attention.” 

You look back at him blankly. He waits. You let him. No reaction. Frustration tics in his cheek and his lips straighten. 

“First thing,” he grabs your arm as he turns for the door, “we find something to dislodged the rod from your ass.” 

He drags you outside and keeps hold of you as you turn to lock the door with your other hand. He tugs you so your wrist twists as you struggle to slide the keys free. They jangle with you as he hauls you forward, your feet clattering down the steps. 

“Keep up, princess, your carriage awaits.” 

[soapyghostie]

Hey! Absolutely random request, but imagine reader being a tired person that out of wounds and stress they just fall asleep when they're being carried, about to go on a hook. How would the dbd killers(any, really) react?

Like, imagine. Being carried, without anything under legs can already make someone sleepy if they don't have adrenaline pumped through their veins. Plus, i know that having wounds(aka blood loss) can make people very tired.

Since this request it a little vague, I decided to get a little creative with it and wrote some angst because I’m a sucker for angst with dad slashers (except Frank is your big brother in this request). 😭 Hope you enjoy!

The Ghost Face/Danny Johnson

Danny would be confused at first, bloodlust still kicking through his veins even after killing all our teammates as he carries you, his injured daughter, to the hook (Sorry (Y/N), he’s just doing his job. No hard feelings). He’ll pause for a moment, trying to process the fact that you feel asleep on his shoulder.

As he realizes that you fell asleep due to exhaustion and stress from your wounds, Danny’s demeanor would soften and his parental instincts within him kicks in. He’ll gently adjust you in his arms from being thrown over his shoulder to being carried bridal style, ensuring that you’re comfortable even as he still proceeds to hook you. 

Seeing you in such a vulnerable state would stir up a lot of internal conflict in Danny. He’s torn between his role as a merciless killer and his love for you as his daughter as he hesitates to sacrifice you to the Entity. Danny’s had a lot of bad performances in trials lately and he really needs the 4K. However, to get the 4K he needs to sacrifice you. Of course it has to be you: the Entity is so cruel. 

As to not get punished by the Entity, sadly, Danny will throw you onto the hook. Danny would feel a pang of remorse and sadness. He knows that he’s the cause of your pain and exhaustion, and seeing you in such a vulnerable state serves as a painful reminder of the life he’s subjected you to. He silently reflects on his actions and their consequences. He’ll gaze at your sleeping form dangling from the hook, grappling with the complexities of his emotions and the choices he made. 

Despite his conflicted emotions, Danny remains committed to his role in the Entity’s twisted game. However, Danny’s determination to protect you remains unwavering. He’ll play the Entity’s game and continue this dark path as a killer if it means to ensure your safety as he doesn’t want you to be harmed as a result of his shortcomings… 

The Legion/Frank Morrison

Frank would be initially shocked and panicked to see you, his younger sister, in such a vulnerable state. Despite his tough ‘bad boy’ exterior, he deeply cares about you and seeing you hurt triggers his protective instincts. 

The sight of you falling asleep from exhaustion and stress while carrying you to the hook fills Frank with anger and frustration. He’ll curse under his breath, feeling powerless to protect you and frustrated with the situation at hand. First off, your god damn heavy after going unconscious and, secondly, he has no choice but to hook you due to the amount of failed trials he’s had lately to try and please the Entity. 

Despite his anger, Frank, also like Danny, would feel a sense of inner conflict. On one hand, he wants to lash out at the Entity for throwing her into a trial with him, but on the other hand, he knows he has to get the 4K by hooking you so you end up safe and sound at the survivor camp instead of the agony the Entity threatened to put you through if he didn’t start stepping it up in trials. You’re the reason he has the strength to keep going in this awful, twisted game of cat and mouse. 

Frank would grapple with the feeling of guilt and responsibility for your condition. As your older brother, he feels entitled to preventing you from getting hurt in the first place and blames himself for everything that has happened to you. Despite his conflicting emotions, he would carefully and gently place you on the hook, making sure you're as comfortable as possible given the circumstances. As he watches you sleep on the hook, Frank would have a quiet moment of reflection. He reminisces about y’all’s childhood together and vows silently to himself to do whatever it takes to keep you safe. 

Seeing you vulnerable would only fuel Frank’s determination to perform better in trials. He would be even more relentless in his pursuit of survivors, driven by the desire to protect you from the Entity’s hungry claws. 

The Shape/Michael Myers

Michael would pause, a flicker of confusion crossing his expressionless face. The sight of you, his daughter, falling asleep despite the dire circumstances briefly disrupts his usual relentless pursuit to satisfy his murderous desires. 

Deep within his obscured psyche, a conflict brews. While Michael is driven by an insatiable urge to kill, his parental instincts stir, conflicting with his murderous impulses. This momentary hesitation leads to a brief internal struggle, the likes of which observers of Michael would never perceive. 

Despite the task at hand and the chaos of the trial, Michael momentarily freezes, holding your unconscious body with an eerie stillness. His iconic breathing momentarily ceases, as if he too, like Danny and Frank, were contemplating the peculiar situation. 

In a rare display of tenderness, Michael gingerly adjusts your position, ensuring that you're comfortable even as he prepares to hook you. His movements would be precise, almost caring, as if he’s trying to shield you from further harm, even in your unconscious state. As he gazes upon your sleeping form, fragments of memories flicker through Michael’s mind. Images of you as a child, innocent and untouched by the darkness that now envelopes you both, momentarily soften his gaze, perhaps even cause a subtle twitch at the corners of his mouth – a long-forgotten smile. You are his world. 

Ultimately, the weight of his desire to kill and the futility of his attempts to connect with you wash over Michael. With a heavy heart hidden beneath his iconic mask, he proceeds with the task at hand – sacrificing you to the Entity. With a solemn determination, Michael carries you to the hook, his obsession with killing eclipsing any semblance of any paternal sentiment.

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

I've been thinking a lot about expectations this week.

A number of years ago, when I was visiting my brother, he criticized me for not doing something that he expected me to do. It was a frustrating talk because he wasn't at all willing to hear my perspective. But what bothered me the most about it was when I said "you can just ask" and he said "I shouldn't have to".

I was doing everything culturally expected of a good guest, I didn't even know what his extra expectations were, and yet he felt entitled to be mad at me for not automatically knowing them, and not living up to them.

It can be so easy for us to let our expectations get ahead of us, to make assumptions based on our own perspectives, and to then feel let down.

And I feel like I'm seeing a lot of this kind of thing in people's experience with media these days. There seems to be a clash happening between expectations and reality. And people feeling genuinely upset when the reality is not what they wanted.

I'm seeing a lot of complaints and "critiques" that seem to fall in to the category of "this is not how I personally want this to go" or "this doesn't resonate with my personal experience".

To be clear, I'm not saying this in a pointing fingers kind of way, because I have 100% done it myself.

When the trailer for Cutie Pie first came out, I got so excited imagining Kuea as some bad boy living a double life. He was going to be so hard to tame, he was going to put Lian through the wringer, and it was going to be amazing.

What I got was something very different from what I expected, and I struggled with the show.

But it was a really valuable learning moment for me. Because everything in the trailer was in the series. It was my interpretation of it, of those few minutes out of hours of material, my assumptions about the moments not yet shown, that caused me frustration.

That was a turning point in my "let's see where the journey takes us" philosophy. And I have to say, engaging in QL has been a hell of a lot more fun since I learned to let go of what I thought should happen.

I still have critiques of shows, of course I do. Nothing is above criticism. But I don't get so personally affronted now when something doesn't do what I expect. I'm more willing to see where the destination takes us before I decide the journey isn't working.

Of course I am still human, and I still get caught off guard sometimes by expectations I didn't realize I had let slip in.

But I have found my experience immeasurably improved by considering a few things when I'm watching a series:

Am I leading with curiosity, or judgment?

What is happening here culturally? What assumptions am I making based on my own background and country of origin? What happens if I step back and look at the bigger picture of how this culture engages with media? Do I even know, or do I have more to learn?

Is this actually bad... or is it just not for me? Is this just not resonating with me? Is it making me uncomfortable? What can this discomfort tell me about myself? Is it a bad show, or just a show I need to walk away from?

Am I more focused on the story I want told, and not paying enough attention to the story that the creators of the series want to tell? What assumptions am I making about their intent?

Am I only focused on what the value is for me as an individual, and not considering how this may be making other people feel seen or be meeting their needs? Can I acknowledge that there can be inherent value in things that do not give value to me personally?

There is value in critique, but there is also importance in self-reflection and understanding why we are feeling the way that we are, and when our own setting of expectations may be playing a role.

It's funny that in some ways this seems to be a reflection of what a golden age of QL we are living in - there are so many options, and time is so scarce, that I can see why people are frustrated when they feel like a show is not living up to what they wanted.

But as someone who has lived multiple decades without this kind of media, and only relatively recently having been able to experience it...there is a lot more to be gained by reveling in what you are loving than over what you are hating.

[rosellacwrites]

Sweatpants Season

summary: Steven‘s been thirst trapping you. It wasn’t intentional.

pairings: Steven Grant x GN!Reader, implied Marc Spector x GN!Reader, implied Jake Lockley x GN!Reader

rating: T, maybe. Not smut itself but, like, gateway sexiness? I’d read it at work but I’m my own boss, so. Maybe don’t do that.

warnings: domestic fluff, established relationship, discussion of sexual attractiveness.

word count: just under 1K

author’s note: Written for the Moon Knight Spring Bingo @moonknight-events — this is entry #3 for the Sweater Weather square! (Thanks to the mods @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch for kindly allowing me to stretch this prompt to sweatpants.)

dividers by @firefly-graphics

“A little healthy objectification is good for a relationship,” Steven pronounces, waving toward you from his side of the sofa. Wine makes him philosophical, and you’re both a few glasses into the evening by now. “Your partner ought to know how attractive you find them.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re only saying that because I caught you perving on me when I took my sweater off and my undershirt got stuck with it.”

“I don’t deny it,” he says with the cheekiest grin. “But you’re even worse, love. I saw the look you gave me the other night when I put my reading glasses on, and there was nothing family-friendly about it.”

“Can’t help it,” you mutter. “It’s unfair how hot you are in those.”

“I think you might be a bit biased there.” He laughs. “I don’t exactly wear them just to turn you on.”

“Sometimes, I think you do.” You stretch your legs out, swinging them over his lap and getting comfortable. “You’re a menace, ever since I told you I liked them. And these pants, my God — you really are just trying to drive me insane, aren’t you?”

“Sorry?” Steven’s brow furrows and he tilts his head at you.

“Really?” You gesture at his legs where they rest under yours, smirking. “You really have no idea what I’m talking about?”

He shakes his head, bewildered. “I really don’t.”

“Steven, you’re walking around here in the functional equivalent of lingerie. Grey sweatpants are hot.”

“Are you having me on?” His face has gone from confused to suspicious; in fairness, if you had been, it wouldn’t have been the first time. Steven is gullible in that way peculiar to the brilliant; anything can seem perfectly plausible, when your mind is already filled with an abundance of equally unlikely facts.

“I am not. This is a legitimate thing!” You’re trying not to laugh. You really are — you don’t want to make the poor man feel bad about himself, but it’s impossible not to let a few giggles slip out. “I bet you Marc or Jake knows about it.”

Steven frowns. “Shut it, you lot,” he says to the reflection in the TV, his face a dull red. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Absolutely no one thinks sweatpants are sexy.”

“Grey sweatpants,” you add helpfully. “The other ones aren’t nearly as good.”

Steven looks at you: your dancing eyes and your lips pressed together to contain your laughter and your shaking shoulders. “All three of you are taking the piss,” he grumbles. “What’ve I done to deserve this? Nothing, is what.”

You fish your phone out of your pocket and hand it to Steven, leaning close. “Google it. Grey sweatpants meme. I swear we’re not making this up.”

“Grey… sweatpants… meme,” he mutters under his breath as he pokes at the screen, and you crane your neck to see what he’s finding.

You watch a parade of emotions cross his face while he scrolls. “Ooh, click on that one!” you chirp, pointing at the link entitled Grey Sweat Pant Memes for Ladies who Buy Their Man Loungewear Every Fall.

He does, and his eyebrows are doing extremely athletic things as he’s confronted with the indisputable truth; you aren’t, in fact, making this up. He’s talking to himself, but you can’t hear most of it, and not for the first time you wish you could hear Marc and Jake’s side of the conversation too. “What is this world,” he laments clearly, once, and you’re gone.

“Oh God — I’m so sorry — it’s just — “ you wheeze, leaning against him. “How did you not know — the year of Our Lord 2023 and I know you can use the Internet — “

“All this time, I’ve been making you all hot and bothered and I didn’t know a thing about it.” He chuckles and shakes his head ruefully; the man is clearly having a minor existential crisis. “I really didn’t, yeah? I just thought… I need a pair, they’re on sale… I nearly got the blue pair, they were the same price — it’s just what I had my hand on…” His voice trails off but you can feel him twitch occasionally, aftershocks of his own laughter. “They were really soft!” he adds, and his tone is so piteous that the laughter explodes out of you again.

“Steven. My love.” You wipe your streaming eyes and grin at him. “You don’t have to justify the sweatpants.”

He wraps an arm around you and squeezes, resting his hot cheek against your head. “Every time I wear them now you’re going to look at me like that, and I’m going to know what you’re thinking, and…”

“Exactly the same things I was looking and thinking before,” you finish, still giggling. “The only difference is, now you know about it.”

Steven shakes his head. “A few things are beginning to make more sense now,” he admits, still flustered, and he starts to chuckle again. “I’ve caught you looking, a few times, but I had no idea what you were up to… suppose I should be grateful you find me so irresistible.”

“I really do,” you sigh, and lean in to kiss him. “Enough that I’m willing to overlook your abysmal knowledge of pop culture.”

“I don’t tease you when you get your pharaohs mixed up, do I?” he protests, wounded. “We’ve all got our things.”

“More of them in heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy,” you quote. “And if they’d had sweatpants back then, Shakespeare would have made dick jokes about them. I guarantee you.”

“You’re probably right,” he sighs. “Well, I won’t be quite so quick to doubt you, next time. You could tell me you like it when I forget to shave for a few days and I’ll just say ‘of course, darling.’”

You don’t say anything. The look on your face does it for you.

“Oh, come on. Really?”

Dedicated to my husband, with whom I had a very similar conversation recently. Poor man.

In case you’re wondering, this is the meme that made him say “what is this world?!”

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

Helluva Boss's Failed Attempt Of "It's You"

If Helluva Boss last episode was the Anti-Telescope, this is their failed attempt at "It's You" from Bojack Horseman. The message is that the main character should stop making excuses for his behavior and realize how much he hurts people when even their bigger supporter turns on them. However, it doesn't work because of the fact someone who also needs to learn that lesson but is being given the biggest amount of excuses and never apologizes himself for what he's done.

Overall, it feels the message is hypocritical if one person has to learn this lesson and it's to the same guy who is probably a bigger example of someone who never apologizes fully for his actions and put others through the wringer for it. Sorry, no matter how these stans say it Stolas is babied while Blitzo is the one who gets the bashing. He gets to have excuses for why he cheated on his wife, why he treats Blitzo like shit, and even why he should have his feelings returned (even though he never earned it by being a condescending pos).

While the moral is good for Blitzo to learn so that he needs to change, it comes off as tone deaf treating Stolas as the person he harmed because he himself has bigger sins against Blitzo. If Stolas wasn't here and it was just Blitzo going on apology for everyone he harmed that would be different. However, Stolas isn't given an ounce to reflect why Blitzo wouldn't be apologetic over his treatment. Despite how defenders say it will come later, they always say that and as it turns out Stolas is still given baby hand treatments and not getting to the root of what he did wrong.

The bigger person who needs "It's You" treatment isn't Blitzo but Stolas who goes throughout this series not reflecting and growing. And the narrative's attempt to act like he does is gaslighting when he still feels entitled, condescending, and obnoxious to Blitzo. And again guy still is self-centered that he cares about what he wants over what Blitzo really wants. The guy is more like Bojack than Blitzo is and the show needs to realize it.

[cardiac-arresting-sweetheart]

Enneagram of Personality - but yanderes!

click me for the google docs version of this

made this entirely for fun. i'm not a psychologist or anything... just really obsessed with the enneagram and yanderes.

referenced enneagram user guide and advanced personality's enneagram wiki for making this as i based this system on the actual enneagram types. the regular enneatype (and tritype) is probably (exceptions likely!) the same as the "yandere type" but this is how each enneatype would behave as a "yandere."

i put way too much effort into this.

Type One: The Perfector

1 wants to mold their darling. 1 will make strict demands of their darling and often have some kind of set of “rules” for them, even if it is not externalized. Feels most responsible for their darling’s behavior as though they are their misbehaving pet. Very possessive in a watchful way. High standards for Darling, will explode on them if they don’t live up to expectations. Feels entitled to Darling, similar possessiveness to 8, but it is self-righteous in 1 rather than protective in 8. Similar to 8 in forcing Darling’s dependence on them, but 2 is self-sacrificial while 8 is dominant. Similar to 2 in thinking "I CAN FIX THEM!" but 1 is more behavior-correcting, 2 more emotional comfort.

Sees their darling as someone flawed who needs to be corrected and controlled.

Most strict, demanding type. Most likely to kidnap their darling.

Trigger: Darling “misbehaving” and failing to meet their standards—or even worse, if 1 makes the mistake themself.

Type Two: The Savior

2 wants to save their darling. 2 will suffocatingly devote all of their being to them and thus suffocate them with affection. If they see their darling relying on another person, they snap. They ensure that their darling depends on them the most. Likely to create problems for darling just to solve them and be the “hero”. Very possessive in a needy way. Goes to great lengths for their darling but has internal resentment for Darling if they are not appreciated enough that will cause them to snap one day if not managed. Similar to 1 in thinking "I CAN FIX THEM!" but 2 is more emotional comfort, 1 more behavior-correcting.

Sees their darling as helpless. “Poor thing!”

Most self-sacrificial, manipulative type. Most likely to isolate Darling.

Trigger: Darling failing to appreciate 2, seeing someone else as more helpful. Someone else being nice to Darling will enrage 2.

Type Three: The Performer

3 wants to feel valued by their darling. 3 will accomplish major tasks in order to wow their darling and push their own feelings aside in order to achieve success and bolster their image. 3 makes offerings to their darling. Desires to make their darling proud of them. 3 wants to be seen as the “perfect couple” with their darling. Would probably get stupid matching couple pajamas and all that.

Sees their darling as a reflection of their success, a “trophy wife/husband.” Also sees Darling as inferior to them.

Most competitive, dedicated type. Very highly image-conscious, more obviously than 2 or 4. Likely to collar their darling, like, literally make them wear a collar. Likely to sabotage Darling’s success so they can be “better” and more “important” than Darling, keeping their attention.

Trigger: Darling seeing them as inadequate; rejection or failure or Darling overshadowing their own success.

Type Four: The Soulmate

4 wants to be the most important person to their darling. 4 will do anything for their darling to keep them from leaving them and often base their entire self-worth and identity on their darling. They are incredibly envious of others and set off by even the smallest actions that could suggest their darling thinks someone is more interesting.  Thinks that Darling is the only one to ever “understand them.” Daydreams a lot, similar to 5 and 9. Mostly quiet resentment to others but expresses it more than 5 or 9. Often appears like 2 but 4 wants Darling to rescue them rather than them rescuing Darling like a 2 (exceptions possible). Likely to guilt-trip or “sui-bait” darling but not intentionally like other types—they just feel too strongly.

Sees their darling as their “true love” or soulmate, a missing piece to fill a void inside 4.

Most emotional, sensitive type. Most delusional type. Most jealous, envious type (of course, because 4’s Passion/Sin is Envy).

Trigger: Darling overlooking them (not being “the favorite”) or misunderstanding them. Also Darling showing interest in anyone else.

Type Five: The Stalker

5 wants to understand their darling. 5 will watch from afar and seems to “take notes” on everything about their darling. They are incredibly observant and analyze everything about their darling, but are often too anxious to act and get truly close with Darling.  Resentful to everyone in Darling’s life but unlikely to act on it. Daydreams a lot, similarly to 4 and 9.

Sees their darling as fascinating.

Most observant, avoidant type. Type that stalks Darling the most. Type with the most quiet hatred.

Trigger: Infringement on their interest with Darling

Type Six: The Watchdog

6 wants to feel a loyal, secure connection with their darling. 6 is very paranoid. They see Darling as the only source of safety and stability in their lives. They constantly test their Darling’s loyalty and are likely to make other people ask their darling questions or play tricks on them to see if they’re truly loyal. Constantly on the lookout for rejection or disloyalty. They are very insecure in their relationship with Darling. Goes to extreme measures to keep Darling close, such as manipulation (very likely to guilt-trip them or “sui-bait”) or threatening other people.

Sees their darling as a protective source, most trustworthy.

Most clingy, suspicious type. Type that will become most enraged by cheating. Archetypal “murdering everyone he’s ever looked at” yandere.

Trigger: Darling betraying them, even if it is only perceived that way. 

Type Seven: The Thrillseeker

7 wants to live an exciting, happy life with their darling. 7 thinks that their darling is the key to happiness and fulfillment in their life. Very madly in love type, puppy love-esque. Overwhelming need for love from Darling. Sick with optimism and blinds self to see only the good side of Darling and love. Daydreams excessively about love. Idealizes and tolerates Darling so much that it becomes detrimental to self. Overly trusting. Loves dates and adventures with Darling.

Sees their darling as their ultimate source of joy.

Most “love at first sight” type. Hopeless romantic, in the rose-colored glasses way. Noncommittal due to being restless rather than 4’s noncommittal traits due to being fragile. One of the most clingy types. Loves love the most. Most gullible type.

Trigger: Darling limiting them or making them upset; terrified by Darling setting up boundaries. Also triggered by Darling spending time with other people.

Type Eight: The Dominant

8 wants to protect and dominate their darling. 8 sees their darling as an extension of themself and ensures that no one else has power over them. Similar to 3 in that they want everyone to know their Darling is theirs. Probably refers to Darling in possessive terms like “my [Darling].” Similar to 6 in paranoia about not trusting others with Darling, but it is more controlling in 8 versus distrustful in 6. Due to their own fear of being vulnerable, they force Darling to become vulnerable to them in order to have power. Will probably try to isolate their darling. Similar to 2 in forcing Darling’s dependence on them, but 8 is dominant while 2 is self-sacrificial.

Sees their darling as their vulnerable “toy.”

Most possessive, aggressive type. Most likely to “mark their territory”. Most likely to become violent.

Trigger: Darling or others questioning their authority; enraged if Darling tries to become independent or questions them.

Type Nine: The Lapdog

9 wants to merge their life with their darling and live in harmony. 9 avoids conflict at all costs, greatest fear of losing their darling. Suppress their own needs not out of viewing them as lesser like 2 or an interference like 3, but due to fear of conflict. Fear of negative change expressed as a fear of any change as it becomes more unhealthy into the comfort zone. Seeks fulfillment with Darling’s contentment but does not fully engage and avoids making any decisions themself. Hides in a comfort zone. Daydreams a lot, similarly to 4 and 5. Quiet resentment like 5, but it is more passive-aggressive in 9. Likely to guilt-trip Darling, on purpose or not.

Sees their darling as a “safe person.”

Most submissive, passive type. Most passive-aggressive type. Most subtle manipulation.

Trigger: Darling being upset with them.

thanks for reading :3 i may edit this some more later...? but please reblog, i'd like to see what people think of this!!

quiz assessment is here if you want to try it.

[zahri-melitor]

So I read Batman 147 (on the basis that with how fast the conversation is moving right now I don't want to wait on DCUI Ultra delay), and I am having even more thoughts about how it as an issue positions the difference between Damian-as-Robin and Tim-as-Robin as characters adjunct to Bruce, and also in terms of both characters' long term storylines.

Because Damian as a character has always fought for attention and focus to be on him, and used various methods to gain that attention. He acts up as the youngest and reiterates his blood connection to Bruce and puts emphasis on being the Son Of The Bat because he wants acknowledgement, he wants to be special, he doesn't like that he arrived in Gotham and in Bruce's life and found that he wasn't the centre of Bruce's focus.

As a character Damian's most often written as part of an oppositional pair: his main titles have always been Batman & Robin and Super Sons, not Robin. He bounces off another character more than acts as a member of a team, whether that's working as Batman and Robin with Bruce or with Dick, or in stories where he's more in a bickering besties relationship with Colin Wilkes or with Maya Ducard or with Jon Kent. His team appearances frequently fall apart, because he starts trying to order people around.

So Damian says about his time with Dick as Batman and Robin "we were the best" and he says about himself and Bruce “Batman and Robin. Father and son. We don't need anyone else." It's about Damian's feelings of possession and entitlement and jealous ownership over the position as Robin. It's about how he has to regularly assert that his time with Dick as Batman and him as Robin, above and beyond anything else, was the best that Batman & Robin have ever been. It's his past need to prove himself and show himself as better than any previous Robin, about fighting them all, particularly Tim, to prove himself as the Worthy Best Robin.

And in 147 that's the Damian we get, one who has returned home to his father and is working on bonding with him again, and so he sees people doubting Batman and his back goes back up and returns to that Us Against The World mindset. Damian is following ZEA Batman’s orders because they make sense to him (yes they’re more violent but defending the Manor and Cave against Waller? There’s nothing in that which should raise alarm bells).

And Damian DOES clue in immediately on something more serious crossing his radar to what’s wrong with ‘Bruce’. As soon as ZEA trips up seriously, Damian notices it. This is actually a really good fallible Damian and he’s not actually being shown as holding the idiot ball here – he’s following on from the extended trust he was showing in Gotham War. ZEA Batman is in his blindspot over being the more violent Robin who does tend to want more physical solutions to how to fight crime. Also Damian’s immediate response being “I’ll kill you!” is so incredibly Damian. Still heightened violence.

And all of this level of possession, of 'all that is needed is Batman & Robin' nobody else, no other connections, is being contrasted by Zdarsky with the shape of Bruce and Tim's relationship as Batman & Robin.

Because Bruce and Tim, by contrast, view their partnership together through the frame that Tim is there to hold back the darkness and save Bruce from himself (a more classic depiction of Robin's role). Bruce is thinking about where to hide that ZEA Batman would not consider, and he thinks about his connections - he goes to Happy Harbour, and then he goes to a cabin that is about civilian family, and he thinks about Tim and about hard work because Tim IS the other character with a strong connection to Happy Harbour. And Tim comes to find where Bruce is hiding and feeds him and does the dishes (the caretaking! The reflections on how Bruce couldn't look after himself while Alfred was gone post Knightfall! Tim making Bruce dinner for Father's Day in Beechen's run!) and the first thing Tim says is “sounds like you need a partner”.

The focus and the conversation revolves around why Tim became Robin in the first place and saving Bruce from the dark via having connections. About having a reason to get up in the morning and for why Batman exists and why he has a partner and a family. It's answering "why is Tim Robin" with "Batman needs someone to haul him back when he overreaches".

It's the contrast between Damian, with his ‘natural, born and raised to be Robin’ conviction of his right to his position, compared to Tim, who “REALLY had to work at it”, and Bruce choosing that he needed to take inspiration from the goal make yourself great purely through your own hard work.

And it's meaty! juicy! these are their very different world views (where Damian has always fought for attention and focus from Batman to be on him, while Tim has pulled Bruce from being obsessed with himself/his grief).

I just want to roll around in it all.

[kithj]

the more people complain about genderlocked characters i feel like the more stubborn i get about it...

i just feel like. there's a fine line between wanting to see yourself reflected in the art you engage with (everybody wants this to some extent) versus just straight up refusing to engage with any kind of art that you can't personally relate to.

and sure you can argue it's not that deep when we're just talking about romance games i guess but usually this extends beyond just IF romance games, i see it on bookstagram or in mainstream video gaming circles, too... and particularly in IF & gaming it tends to lead to this very entitled attitude where if the thing doesn't appeal exactly to what you personally want, then it's Bad and Wrong.

i definitely understand in some instances, as a butch lesbian there is like... no game even off the top of my head that i can think of that actually has someone that looks like me in it (except for the stuff i've personally written. lol) and i do really like the gender-selection mechanic for this reason. most of the time it's the only way we get sapphic ROs. but to me that's just a band-aid and not a real solution, especially when a lot of authors tend to lean on bioessentialist ideas to depict the gender-selectable variants, and most of the time don't even seem to be aware that they're doing it.

i would much prefer actual female characters, or actual trans characters, over gender-selectable characters. because the other thing we see is that a lot of the time the male variation is the most popular, and is seen as the "default." this is through no fault of the author, really, it's just how the cookie crumbles, i guess.... i don't really know what the solution is but i do really wish people would be more mindful about... well. all of it. authors and readers alike. and maybe broaden your horizons and read something that's different for you, or write something challenging outside of your comfort zone. i get that a lot of these games are pure wish fulfillment, and that's fine, we're not all going to like or want the same things. but when most games don't include people like me, i'm forced to pick from a much smaller pool of fish than everyone else, and i don't agree with that. both in that i wish there were more options for me, obviously, but also that i shouldn't only limit myself to games that "represent" me and am still willing to reach for something different and still give it a chance. both things can be true.

now when a game is intentionally excluding entire groups of people, of course that needs to be called into question. because then it's just bigotry, and we all know bigotry is bad, yes? a game that... let's say. only allows white mcs. is going to attract a particular kind of audience. we know this we can acknowledge this. but i do also kinda think it's a waste of time to try and appeal to authors like this... i'm not against offering feedback but at the end of the day these authors excluded these people for a reason and they have no interest in us. don't bother. there are other authors out there that are writing women and trans people and poc that you can read instead of trying to get a misogynist or a racist or a transphobe to write about people they clearly don't give a shit about.

and i really feel like that encapsulates why i both like and dislike the gender-selectable mechanic... again it's just a temporary band-aid. it lets me play a sapphic mc for a little while. but the larger problem still remains which is that there are no depictions of butch lesbians (or lesbians in general) in most of these games, and there are not a lot of authors out there willing to even try. there are a lot of instances where i feel the gender-selection mechanic is just... a cop out. there's no thought or effort put into it.

i dont think every single author needs to start genderlocking or anything (that would be stupid) i just wish it was something both authors and readers would spend more time thinking about, rather than just automatically defaulting to gender-selection. people approaching Blood Choke and then complaining that it's all genderlocked but... the story is About being a lesbian. it would not exist in any other way. and the beautiful thing is that you can still read it even if you're not a lesbian! in fact i wish more people would. again, reach for something different and you might find that you actually like it. you might even connect with it in a way that surprises you. meanwhile The Northern Passage has a lot of options for the mc both in the character creator and when it comes to romance options. i have a gender-selectable character there, and a lot of people enjoy that, and i do too. and i also chose to lock Clementine originally because i knew i wanted there to be a nonbinary RO that could not be ignored (and then the other two followed shortly after once i started writing).

there's Nuance. there are lots of reasons to genderlock and there are lots of reasons why someone might not. there are games out there that let me play with an all female cast that i hate, other games with a mixed, genderlocked cast that i love. there are authors out there that do handle their gender-selectable characters well, some of my favorite games utilize it! and there are genderlocked games that are all just skinny white cis people that make me recoil. there are downsides to both. this is not an either-or situation. it's just something to think about, both when creating a character as an author and when engaging with a work as a reader.👍

[daniclaytcn]

I have been telling my friends that season 7 is a bridge. Also, that Tim had a plan and as he wasn’t in the last 2, the story isn’t as he planned so he spent the whole season taking the characters there. Meaning healing from last trauma to add new traumas and building the foundations for the next season, foundations he thought were going to be build.

For example:

- Chim and Maddie fostering Mara is the bridge to Maddie and Chim having another child, maybe adopting this time.

- Hen and Karen will adopt Mara, and I’m not quite sure about the next step because I’m thinking about Captain Hen but I don’t think it’ll happen in the next season.

- Bi Buck we know what bridge that is even if some people don’t want to accept it.

- Eddie, being bad written, is the bridge to prioritising and putting himself first for them establishing boundaries with his parents. (Kind of Buck did). Also, to discover himself and what he really wants. Healing.

- Bobby to realise he’s a hero and that his works wasn’t over, especially now that Gerrard is back.

- Athena hasn’t been a proper cop this season and both times (Harry incident and whatever the fuck was the Amir thing) she has used her power so I think something will happen there that’ll make her stop and think.

The reason why the wasn’t room for development is because for some stories, it was the end (Chim being traumatised in his wedding by Doug) and for other stories it was the beginning (the whole episode 7x10)

i'm sorry, i don't want to sound like i'm being dismissive of your opinion because you're entitled to it, but i don't agree with any of this. to start with, it's too bad that tim couldn't tell the story he wanted to after s4, but that's not an excuse for him to come back two seasons later, throw a temper tantrum and ignore everything that's happened since that isn't convenient for him. lol. as for the rest, let's break it down:

this sets up for maddie and chim having another child...except we don't actually KNOW how THEY feel about it. they've never talked about having more kids, let alone fostering. we never saw any of this from their POV, we were just up and told that they wanted to do it for henren. which is a beautiful thing for them to do, but we don't know what they feel about it, if they've considered the logistics of having a second child, about jee having a sibling—none of it!

my issue with henren this season was that they recycled the plot of them having trouble with expanding their family for, what, the...third time? it's so tired and feels like misery porn at this point (and let's not even get into the uncomfortable racial elements around the way mara was written in 7x05).

something as monumental as the bi!buck arc should have been explored better. sorry. aside from his conversation with maddie, we barely got to see buck do any kind of serious self-reflection about this major part of his identity and his relationship with tommy, has, well. it's just been written in a very strange and off-putting way post 7x05. sorry to say.

whatever happened with eddie is really not the way to get him to prioritize himself! think about it. for the first time he prioritized his own grief in trying to get catharsis with kim. and it backfired on him spectacularly. he hurt his kid. he lost christopher. i don't think he's ever gonna recover from this guilt. if anything, what's happened will only reinforce his belief that he should never prioritize himself, ever. the thing with kim didn't lead to any kind of healing, it made everything a million times worse. he was quite literally punished by the narrative for his grief and it's quite sickening. and given how things were handled this season i highly doubt it will be treated with any kind of nuance or care in the next.

this has not been the first time athena has abused her power—only the most egregious instance of it—and it won't be the last. if abusing her power in s1 and harassing a teenage girl then didn't get her to stop and think, i don't think this will. sorry.

my entire point, is that most of the things you've mentioned here was incredibly last minute. madney fostering mara. the eddie/kim plotline. eddie's conflict with chris. the bobby and amir plotline. everything in 7x10 felt like an afterthought. why is it that bobby's life was in serious danger and yet we barely saw anything of him? why didn't we get to see more the firefam being worried over him and holding vigil? how is it that eddie and chris didn't even have a single conversation before chris went away to a different state?

you don't use all ten episodes of a season just to set up new plot points for the rest without developing or concluding the stuff already going on in a meaningful manner that makes sense. sorry.

[bonefall]

i think nightcloud's pannage is perfect, personally. it gives her a great opportunity to compare herself to the sow in her mind; perhaps she even goes behind onestar's back to try and reunite some of the humbugs with their mother?

Yeah, I think it's all coming together. It should be Nightcloud's Pannage. I was a little apprehensive of eliminating the stoats, but I think this will actually work better.

Now I can use the hog and her humbugs as a vehicle for conflict, create a really interesting comparison to herself and the demonized mother boar, and also establish the very cute little detail that she REALLY loves piggies just in case the opportunity to make Sowstar presents itself later.

Friendship Ended with Stoats; now Sow and Humbugs are my Best Friend

When a litter of humbugs get lost in the tunnels and start popping up all over the WindClan Moor, their mother comes to try and find them.

Mama Sow is actually going to get a name. The new "Head of Hunting" role has this as a major part of their job; they are meant to keep track of major individual predators in their territory, so they name notable animals.

DETOUR: I kinda want her name to be Rashma in Clanmew; in English that's Oxeye Daisy, or Moonpenny or Marguerite. I think calling her Marge is the funniest possible thing I can do here.

Marge is notorious for liking the taste of moonpenny, which makes prey taste awful.

So, she's never been hunted, has lived to the grand age of at least 5, and is known as a prolific, doting mother.

So I might actually have the Head of Hunting of ThunderClan, possibly the newly promoted Lionblaze, come to WindClan to warn them that Marge is on the loose.

Onestar is currently in one of the lower points of his arc, like canon. So he pretty bitterly dismisses this warning, and cuts Lionblaze off when he tries to offer ThunderClan's help if Marge becomes trouble.

(Or Lionblaze might be training under someone else, currently. I'm unsure. The last cat I have planned to be the Head of Hunting in ThunderClan is Willowpelt.)

After more scouting, WindClan comes to realize that Marge's humbugs are all over the moor. They're JUST big enough to put up a fight, but not big enough that the inexperienced WindClan can't win. About 3 or 4 months old.

I know that at least ONE of these humbugs is killed by WindClan.

It was awful to Nightcloud, like, so uncomfortably sloppy that it caused her to disassociate with raw fury and finish the job.

That's important because it's how I'd open up the first flashback of her childhood, that night.

As the Clan is roasting the humbug, congratulating her, singing high praises, she realizes she was reminded of a gruesome hunting incident when she was a kitten.

Each humbug would be tied to some sort of thought she has on her own life, so I can use them as a framing device.

She probably gets separated in the end because reuniting the humbugs with Marge brought her far away.

BTW I want to make sure Marge is still very much an animal. They can't become "friends" in the end lmaooo.

But Marge could "return the favor" without breaking that rule too much, I think. Maybe have Nightcloud get chased somewhere by a fox and Marge comes out of nowhere to kill it without even breaking a sweat, then moves on.

So far, something I'm kind of enjoying about Nightcloud's Pannage is the way it's just sort of reflective. It's about the hogs and dealing with them, but in TRUTH, it's just a window into WindClan during an interesting point in time.

Crowfeather is reeling from NOT being respected anymore, suddenly losing something that was very important to him, because he misused that power and felt entitled to it.

Realizing he has no friends or family left, because he was AWFUL to them.

The Clan is now looking to Nightcloud, giving her a sense of respect she doesn't really like very much. But she's exploring what that feels like, for the first time, as she comes to terms with her past.

Breezepelt/Dodderheart reaches a very low point in his life, and starts pushing people who love him away to set up where he's going in the next arc.

Onestar is ALSO at a low point. I should include him nonsensically snapping at Brushblaze after Galekit and Smokekit are born in this SE, so Nightcloud can grapple with how on edge her leader seems.

(Possible trigger where she also is immediately ported back to Hillrunner snapping at her for something equally "random")

Plus the supporting cast of interesting cats with their own feelings on this; Harespring who's trying to stay diplomatic, Heathertail who's frustrated, Willowclaw and her budding friendship to Nightcloud, etc.

Hmmmm.... you know, now that I'm writing this out, it's kinda striking me that Nightcloud's probably SO sensitive at this time in her life because, it's the first time she's actually felt safe.

You know that thing with PTSD where it all hits you at once? Because you're FINALLY in a place where you can unpack it?

So it all gets worse before it gets better?

I should keep that in mind with this one.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

hiii, could i request a rafe fic with ‘’I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget you ever even met that asshole.’’ + breeding kink where the reader just broke up with her shitty ex? tysm!!

This has been in my drafts for so long. I’ve sorry to the anon who requested it

Warnings: mention of cheating, 

—

Is it really a party if someone doesn’t end up crying in a bathroom? the kind soul who would tell the crying girl to wipe her tears and that she deserved better than the asshole who hurt her, but tonight the role reversed and the curse fell on you.

You stared at your reflection with blurry eyes, wanting nothing more than to go home and put on your Taylor Swift heartbreak playlist and cry until sleep overtook you. That sounded like a perfect ending for tonight. But, to do that, you had to exit the bathroom and walk through the houseful of party people. A houseful of eyes who would see your red eyes and the smeared mascara and make you the next topic of gossip.

A loud knock — slam of hand — snapped you out of your bubble and forced you to come out of the bathroom.

A blonde girl pushed past you, visibly drunk, and slammed the bathroom door.

‘’Been in there for a while. Were you sucking a dick?’’ Rafe Cameron sniggered, a cocky smile on his face.

‘’I don’t have time for your shit, Rafe.’’ You wiped the last tears from your eyes and walked past him.

Unfortunately, he followed you. ‘’Are you crying because of the dick sucking? I was just messing with you—’’

You shook your head at how entitled he was. ‘’Not everything is about you,’’ you said before taking the stairs.

‘’What are those tears for then, uh? And don’t say you’re just drunk because you don’t seem drunk to me.’’

Rafe was the last person you expected to care, but here he was, following you in the stairs and asking the provenance of your tears.

‘’I just want to go home.’’

‘’I’ll take you home. My truck is parked across the street.’’

Although you wanted to decline — a car ride with Rafe sounded like a nightmare —, you didn’t feel like walking the five miles to your house. The faster you would get home, the faster you could cry in your bed.

‘’What do you want in exchange?’’ you asked cautiously, sensing there was something underneath.

Rafe shrugged his shoulders. ‘’Nothing. This is just an act of kindness.’’

‘’From you?’’ You scoffed. ‘’I’m having difficulty believing that.’’

The inside of the truck was surprisingly clean. There were no girl underwear on the backseat or weird stains. Just a random golf ball and a gym bag.

It was silent as Rafe drove, both of your eyes ahead on the road. You didn’t mind the quiet. Especially in Rafe’s company. Every time he opened his mouth, you dreaded whatever would come out.

“You don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want to, but I’m here when you are ready.”

Where was this sudden wave of kindness coming from? Was it hidden under his cocky and self-absorbed personality? Or was he just trying to get in your pants? It wouldn’t be the first time a guy faked being interested in you just to have sex.

You closed your eyes as tears welled and took a deep breath in. ‘’I…I caught him with his tongue in another girl's mouth.’’ You doubted he wanted to hear your horrible night, but continued. ‘’You know Rachel with the crooked nibs? Her shirt was off and his pants were undone — it was very obvious what they were about to do. He...he said it was a moment of weakness.’’ You huffed at his ridiculous excuse.

Did he really think this was going to make you forgive him? Men’s stupidity never ceased to surprise you.

‘’Eating chocolate cake during a diet is a moment of weakness. Not cheating of your girl.’’

A small smile curled on your lips. The comparison was unusual, but it worked.

For the rest of the drive, you found yourself gazing at Rafe — his summer skin and blue eyes, the way the wind coming from the window down blew in his hair…and the rumored huge dick he was hiding in his shorts. You wanted to run your hands through hair and kiss along his jawline. The cologne he had spritzed before coming to the party filled his truck, making your core tighten.

‘’Rafe?’’ He hummed, his eyes still on the road. ‘’Can you fuck me?’’

Your words surprised the both of you.

‘’Not because I like you,’’ you took care to precise. ‘’I just don’t want to go home and mope about a guy who cheated on me. I just want to take my mind off this.’’

A smug grin curled on his lips, shaking his head. ‘’Of course.’’

‘’I mean it,’’ you hissed. ‘’I’m not attracted to you. You’re annoying and full of yourself and—’’

He cut you off with his lips, kissing you over the gearshift. You quickly recovered from the initial shock and kissed back, grabbing him by the back of his neck and deepening the kiss, forgetting that Rafe was still driving.

You pulled back and Rafe parked the truck on the side of the road. The second the contact was cut, your lips connected again and he backed his seat to make room, then pulled you over and on his lap.

‘’I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget you ever even met that asshole and then I’m gonna cum into your sweet little pussy, fill you up real good. Do you want that?’’ Rafe asked, his voice low and horny.

His filthy words elicited a whine from you, impatient to get to that point. As they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx   @sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski

[kelseytheballerina]

what made you realise you were acting vain and how did you change it?

It wasn’t just me enjoying the fun or relaxation of it anymore, it was a serious pursuit. So take my enjoyment of luxury goods for example. I like buying bags and shoes and stuff bc I think they are pretty and I just like them for what they are. I don’t make an idol of it, I don’t think it makes me better than anyone, and if God showed up and told me to leave it behind I would do it before he even finished the sentence bc I don’t actually place too much importance on it. I can wear a chanel or a random unbranded bag from amazon and it wouldn’t make a difference. But when it came to former beauty practices, I did care. A lot. The thought of not being done up a certain way was no longer simply about self care but caring far too much about how others were perceiving me and how I was looking in relation to others. Always wanting to be the shining star in the room. I was also doing it for personal enjoyment and for beauty’s sake but there were other dubious thoughts bubbling under the surface and they weren’t healthy. It was giving me a false sense of superiority and for what?

It was weird bc I would see other vain girls and feel a distaste for them even though we were exhibiting the same traits. So I was really seeing myself and not liking the reflection, if that makes sense. There’s a difference between confidence and arrogance. There’s a difference between doing something because you like it and feel like doing it vs feeling like you have to even when you don’t authentically feel like it. My views on beauty are very relaxed now and although I very much enjoy my routines and the end result, it is not an idol in my life and I am fully shining in simply doing what I want/like and feeling no pressure of any sort to be as pleasing to the biggest pool of people as I was before.

Being pretty, dressing cute, it doesn’t make me better than anyone else. It doesn’t make me worth more. It doesn’t mean I deserve more or am entitled to demand better. Yes I knew that before but I wasn’t behaving that way 100% of the time. All it means is that I like having curled hair and eyeliner. That’s it.

Whenever I take breaks from the extra outward adornments (just wearing my hair curly, no makeup, etc), I don’t feel any better or worse about myself bc it’s been taken off of a pedestal in my life. 2021 was definitely the height of my vanity and I’m glad I don’t have that same mindset anymore. You can enjoy looking good and taking really good care of yourself without being snooty or insufferable about it and somehow I was really annoying that year lmao! But it’s funny bc I got a lot of followers that year so people loved it but after a while I realized that I wasn’t as proud of my behavior and I didn’t think it was showing upstanding character. At the end of the day, getting 50k notes on a post and gaining a bunch of followers doesn’t mean anything if I’m not proud of who I’m becoming when I put the phone down.

I am a very visual person and I love beauty and will always enjoy partaking in beauty routines, but it doesn’t mean I have to be vain.

[robininthelabyrinth]

The Other Mountain - ao3 - Chapter 21

Pairing: Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan

Warning Tags on Ao3

———————————————————————-

As a child, Lan Qiren had followed his brother everywhere.

In retrospect, he could see how this could have been annoying, particularly to someone more than ten years older than him, nearly a man. But as a child Lan Qiren had not known it. He had only wanted to be closer to that magnificent figure, to his glorious brother who everyone praised and everyone loved and everyone admired – and Lan Qiren had admired him, too.

He’d been proud to be the younger brother of such a person, a distant but awe-inspiring figure, and he had basked in the reflection of his brother’s splendor. It had been the primary source of affection he had had, given his mother’s early death and his father’s subsequent disconnect from the world, and even his teachers, well-meaning, had often laced their praise with comparisons between them, absent-mindedly promising Lan Qiren that he would one day match his brother’s peerless example.

Naturally he had been unable to stay away.

His brother at the time had not been so disdainful of Lan Qiren as he later would become, and back then the Lan sect rules had been important to him, too, though perhaps not to the degree they had mattered to Lan Qiren even in childhood. The rules praised chivalry, courtesy, and generosity, and his brother had always wanted to be seen as a perfect gentleman – he had been so proud when people had first started calling him Qingheng-jun, respect and praise in one. Naturally he had not been willing to be so churlish as to be seen brushing off an unwanted much-younger brother, even one whose birth had led to his previously tranquil life falling apart, and so he’d put up with Lan Qiren trailing after him throughout the Cloud Recesses.

To and fro, wherever he went, asking all sorts of questions and trying to get his brother’s attention, unsuccessfully aping his mannerisms and his habits –

Yes, Lan Qiren supposed he had been very annoying.

Eventually his brother had gotten tired of being harassed and had in fact chased him away, at first only occasionally and then consistently, and by the time he had met He Kexin, he was accustomed to telling Lan Qiren to get lost and meaning it. There was a reason Lan Qiren had not really met He Kexin in any substantive capacity until it was too late.

But it did mean that Lan Qiren was very familiar with his brother’s habits.

People, Lan Qiren had found, were in many ways like rules: they did not change very readily, except from within. The passage of time could weather the Wall of Discipline, but regular repetition carved furrows into people as deep as the regular re-inscription of the rules did to the stone – people remembered, and people did, and did again, and habits once formed were difficult to get rid of even when you tried. And if those habits had been entrenched deeply enough, even ten years without would not rid you of them.

His brother would not be the exception.

Lan Qiren slowly made his way around the edges of the Lan sect camp, keeping an eye out for the sorts of places that his brother preferred – high places, with good vantage points, but still comfortable, with enough trees to shade him from the sun and wind. He was not overly subtle with his search, and his apparent nonchalance was enough to make the few Lan sect sentries who seemed to catch a glimpse of him look away once more. It was a breach of discipline, and foolish, for them to dismiss him as a threat simply because of the Lan sect ribbon that fluttered behind him as he went, and Lan Qiren had to swallow down the instinct to go over to scold them for it, reminding himself that he was no longer sect leader, no longer entitled to do that.

He was only checking the fourth such place when he was caught.

“Figured it out, did you?”

A cold feeling went down Lan Qiren’s spine.

“Xiongzhang,” he said, turning to look at his brother – who was alone, as Lan Qiren had expected. He was standing under a tree, gazing out at the world with his hands behind his back, the very picture of a handsome scholar, aloof from the world.

“How did you manage that?” his brother continued, ignoring the greeting. Perhaps he was still annoyed by the fact that Lan Qiren was no longer obligated to salute him, or by the fact that he chose not to. “I’m quite sure I left no signs.”

No time for pleasantries, then.

“Intuition,” Lan Qiren said. “I guessed.”

“Intuition,” his brother mused. “I wouldn’t have expected that. You were always so literal – as a child, if someone told you that you couldn’t do something, you never would, and if they told you could, you’d try, even if it was obvious to anyone with a brain that it was impossible. And if they told you must, you did, even at injury to yourself.”

That was true.

“I resented you back then, you know.”

Lan Qiren blinked. He had not known. He hadn’t had even the slightest idea.

“You and your devotion,” his brother said. “You always seemed to find everything so straightforward. Good was good, bad was bad, the rules were always right. You never doubted, never wavered, never suffered…it was as if you were a statute of marble, rather than flesh.”

“Never suffered?” Lan Qiren demanded, goaded out of his silence against his will – which was probably his brother’s intention. Lan Qiren had known from the beginning that he would never be able to win against his brother, neither in cultivation, nor fighting, nor even in words. He had come regardless. “You think I never suffered? How? Simply because I did not demonstrate it the same way you did, the way you expected me to?”

His brother shrugged.

“It dissatisfied me even then, though I did not understand why,” he said, because of course he was only ever focused on the impact Lan Qiren’s life had had on him. In his own way, Lan Qiren’s brother was as narcissistic as Wen Ruohan, though in a manner Lan Qiren found far less charming. “Why should you get to be tranquil and serene, sure of who you were and what you stood for? Only because of who and what you were: a younger son, free of expectations and free of burdens, with no cares…”

“I was alone. Our father cared only for you, our teachers prioritized you, our sect followed your lead, while I was too young, too awkward, not sufficiently talented, and you made it clear to anyone with eyes that you did not like me. Amidst our entire clan, in a place filled with people, I had nobody. Do you truly think I had no cares?”

“Perhaps you had complaints,” his brother said, dismissive as ever, “but you never complained. You never rebelled. Even your voice has always been even, unbothered, as lacking in passion as it is in despair. The perfect little Gusu Lan disciple. You never turned your back on the rules, not once, not ever. It never even occurred to you to do so.”

“Of course not! They were all I had – that one piece of the world that was equally mine as it was anyone else’s, the one clear guide to behavior that could show me how to win praise and avoid scorn. And the one time in my life I tried to go beyond them, to go out and seek my freedom and see who I was or could be outside the boundaries of the Cloud Recesses, I was forced to give up because of you.”

“Then why are you back now? I got you out, in the end. You should thank me.”

Lan Qiren choked. “You sent me to the Fire Palace!”

“You got out of it. Mostly intact, as far as I can see.” His brother shook his head. “At times I feel as though I should admire you, Qiren. Even the fearsome Wen Ruohan stands no chance against you…tell me, what is your plan, here and now? I see no one around, and you cannot possibly hope to stop me yourself. You don’t even know where to go, much less how to stop what is going to happen.”

Lan Qiren steeled himself.

“No,” he agreed. “I can neither defeat you, nor stop you, and I do not know where to go. I came here so that you would take me there yourself.”

“Take you there?” His brother sneered. “So you can try to get in my way? Why would I do a foolish thing like that?”

“Because I would suffer more if I saw you do it,” Lan Qiren said honestly. “Because although I hate you, I still find it difficult to believe that you would purposefully carry through with such a terrible thing – and I believe that you hate me enough to want to see me suffer through the realization that you would.”

His brother was silent for a moment.

And then, terribly, he laughed.

“Very well,” he said, his eyes curved into a faint smile, as if Lan Qiren had said something funny. “Very well. Why not? It’s not as though you could stop me even if you’re there.”

Lan Qiren felt his hands curl up into fists. It was one thing to know his brother hated him, hated him enough to want him to suffer in seclusion and then to die in torment and pain in the Fire Palace, and yet another to have it so blatantly reconfirmed to his face like this.

Was it really so bad, in his brother’s eyes, to love the rules that their ancestors had given them? Or was it merely his fate of being a younger son, never meant and never expected to inherit, that his brother hated so much? His tonelessness, his awkwardness…what part of himself would Lan Qiren have had to eviscerate to win his brother’s love? Or had it never been possible at all?

“First you will have to throw away whatever signal you brought, of course,” his brother added, still smiling faintly. “I’m not inclined to deal with Wen Ruohan in the middle of carrying out my plan.”

Lan Qiren obediently pulled out the flare Wen Ruohan had given to him and tossed it aside.

“Mm. And now any other flares, as well as other means of communication or any other components of any other plans you have put together either in the past or present to contact anyone else about where we are or what we are doing.” His brother chuckled. “Remember that your Speak meagerly tricks will not work on me, Qiren.”

Lan Qiren hadn’t really expected them to, but he’d promised Wen Ruohan that he would try his best.

He wasn’t sure this really qualified, but…it was his sect at risk. His sect, his rules, all those innocent lives - he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t try everything he could.

As he rid himself of the back-up flare as well, and handed his brother the qiankun pouch containing his sword and his guqin, which his brother promptly left at the base of the tree, rendering Lan Qiren disarmed and helpless, he comforted himself with the reassurance that he had not really broken his promise. After all, he wasn’t really in fear of his life. He might hate his brother, but he was not afraid: that one burst of rage at the Lotus Pier aside, his brother had shown no inclination to violate the prohibition against harming one’s kin. At least, not directly, not by his own hands, and that meant that, disarmed or not, Lan Qiren had a chance, however minimal, to stop him before he set off the disaster.

He would simply have to improvise once they reached the core array.

He was – not very good at improvisation.

Once Lan Qiren disarmed, they left that place, the two of them flying together on his brother’s sword, which marked the first time they’d ridden on a single sword together since before Lan Qiren had reached the age of ten. His brother’s hand was cold where it touched Lan Qiren’s side, keeping him from falling.

The location his brother had chosen to set the core array was not far. It was a small cave hidden in the side of one of the many tall hills in the area, completely nondescript and difficult to spot even if you knew it was there – Wen Ruohan had been right that they would never have been able to find it any other way.

Cangse Sanren had been right, too. Lan Qiren wasn’t doing very well against his brother.

He’d lost control twice now, letting his brother lead the conversation, letting his brother set the terms of their engagement and yielding to him in all instances, following him as if he were still that small child that had so adored him. At least he hadn’t actually hurt himself this time, though that was likely only a matter of time.

Lan Qiren stepped down from the sword and away from his brother, putting some distance between them. There was nothing of note in the cave, nothing he could use to summon Wen Ruohan as he had hoped against hope there might be – even the core array, meticulously painted onto the floor of the cavern, was difficult to see.

He looked around, then pursed his lips. “You have a good view of the mountain from here.”

He wouldn’t have thought so. It was one thing to include the deaths of thousands in your plans, terrible as that was, but surely another entirely to want to watch…?

“Is that disapproval I hear?” His brother chuckled. “This is the place that destroyed her – that destroyed us. Do you think that I would not enjoy every last aspect of my revenge?”

Lan Qiren pressed his lips together more, wanting to say something censorious, but then he paused.

He thought again about Wen Ruohan. This was his first conversation with his brother since the moment he’d realized that he’d fallen in love with Wen Ruohan – and surely that made a difference, did it not?

In the past, he had only been standing on the sidelines, a cold and unbothered observer the way his brother had always mocked him for being – with his own problems, yes, but not the same ones, not those ones. But now he was right there alongside his brother, in the same boat, both of them seized by the same curse, that same terrible Lan heart that was birthright to them both. He, too, had someone in his heart, someone he could not bear to see harmed, someone for whom he would seek revenge, should it come to that.

Yes, Lan Qiren could empathize with his brother now, or at least he could to some extent. While Lan Qiren was certain that he would never carry out or even contemplate such an outrageously vile scheme as the one his brother had concocted, he could still feel the same rage and misery and pain at the thought of something happening to his beloved. Just the thought of that spy that had tricked Wen Ruohan, that Wang Liu that had goaded him into reliving his worst fears and preyed on his insecurities to get him to act as he wished, made Lan Qiren want to hit something, to hurt someone, in a way he had never felt before…

“No, I understand,” he said quietly. The realization almost made him feel a little happy, in a strange way. After so long, he finally had something that connected him with his brother again, as terrible as that connection might be, as terrible as the circumstances were. It had been so many years since he’d understood even a little of what his brother was thinking that it was almost a relief to be on the same page once more.

For some reason, his brother frowned. “You understand? What does that mean?”

“Merely that and nothing more.” Lan Qiren shook his head and straightened his shoulders. “Since the last time we spoke, I have gained new insight into your perspective. Naturally I cannot endorse your actions, particularly in this – I find the mere idea of harming innocent people as part of even a scheme of revenge fundamentally appalling, and I disagree with your decision to blame our entire sect rather than specific people for what happened – and I will of course make every effort to try to stop you, as you already know. But at a minimum I can understand the way you must be feeling.”

“Oh. Can you.”

“I have also fallen in love,” Lan Qiren explained, unsure of why his brother’s expression seemed to be getting worse and worse every passing moment. “I know now, as I did not before, the way that it burns you, the way it compels you. I know how it can drive you to new extremes of feeling and action. To lose the one you love…you must be in such terrible pain.”

His brother was gritting his teeth. He took a step forward, his hands curling into fists, his brows furrowing in irritation. “Whatever you think you’re doing, stop it. It won’t work.”

Lan Qiren blinked at him. “I am not doing anything.”

Did his brother think that Lan Qiren’s sympathy was insincere, perhaps part of some sort of ploy to get him to lower his guard? Was that why he seemed to be getting angrier and angrier? It really wasn’t…

Still, Lan Qiren wasn’t going to object to somehow having managed, for once, to seize the higher ground in the conversation…though he didn’t entirely know how he’d gotten there nor, now that he was here, what he was supposed to do with it.

“I do not have any illusions that I will be able to talk you out of what you plan to do,” he said, though in fact he hadn’t completely eradicated that last little bit of hope left in his heart. Realistically, he knew that the only way he was going to be able to stop his brother was to somehow find a way to signal Wen Ruohan – he had a few half-baked ideas going, but nothing solid as of yet – but he still wished that somehow a miracle would take place and his brother would decide to give it up of his own free will. “I just wanted you to know that I understand where you are coming from, that I can follow your line of thinking.”

“You know nothing of what I’m thinking!”

“Only what I can extrapolate, of course. You can correct me, but…you hate our sect and our rules because you feel like they were not enough to save her, is that right? Because our sect permitted such an atrocity to happen and even used her to accomplish it, yet turned around to condemn her in turn – you see it as hypocrisy. You see all our rules as hypocrisy.” Lan Qiren couldn’t imagine how miserable it must have been to start to hate everything you were raised with, and to such a degree as his brother hated. Even if he couldn’t forgive his brother for everything else he had done, he could at least pity him for having to go through that. “Though I do wish to emphasize that even in the most extreme situation, our sect cannot be held to blame for everything. In the end, He Kexin made her own choices – ”

Lan Qiren saw when his brother moved, but that was about all. He was not slow by any means – he was a perfectly adequate swordsman, with the reflexes that came with it – but he was nowhere near his brother’s level. He hadn’t been able to match him before his brother’s retreat into seclusion, and after…his brother had emerged even more powerful, unimaginably so, leaving him even further behind. When he acted, there was nothing Lan Qiren could do to stop him. Before he could react in any way, his brother’s fist had already made contact with his cheekbone.

The next thing Lan Qiren knew, he was on the ground, with the whole side of his face alight with pain.

“How dare you,” his brother hissed. “How dare you – you of all people – to say that about her –”

“I did not say anything wrong,” Lan Qiren protested, too startled to even to suffer, his hands rising up to protectively cradle his face. “She did make her own choices! Even putting aside the murder of which she was accused, she was involved in the business of the spiritual iron mine in Xixiang. She helped seek out cultivators to force into labor – ”

“The mine was their business,” his brother said coldly. “Or do you think I was such a poor sect leader that I willingly let Lan Muzhi speculate with our sect money and our sect’s name in such a grotesque fashion?”

Lan Qiren froze.

Lan Muzhi? The sect elder that had come up with the mine project had been Lan Muzhi?

“But – Lan Muzhi was the one He Kexin killed,” he said blankly. He needed to think about what this meant, but his brain simply refused to respond, too shocked to move. “Are you saying the mine was Lan Muzhi’s project? And then He Kexin killed him? But then – what happened with the rest of it?”

Such a death would almost seem fitting, the heavens meting out their own form of ironic justice in having the man who orchestrated the terrible project be killed by the woman who’d gotten dragged into it through her own willful blindness. Only…the pieces didn’t add up. If Lan Muzhi had been the person behind the mine project, and he had been killed by He Kexin, then who had killed all those people in the mine? Who had put in place all those suppression arrays to cover up the ghosts of the resentful dead? Fellow conspirators? Someone else?

And it still didn’t answer the most fundamental questions: Why had she killed him? Had she killed him?

Lan Qiren was suddenly aware that his brother was laughing again, jagged and bitter to the point of pain.

“You don’t know!” he crowed. “You don’t – you really don’t know, do you? They’ve been lying to you all these years, every last one of them…amazing. I thought for sure you must have figured it out by now, that you knew,but apparently I was overestimating you. You’re just the same as you were as a child, Qiren, just the same: slow and stupid and far too trusting. Stupider than even I thought, it seems.”

“What do you mean?” Lan Qiren demanded as he scrambled to his feet, ignoring the insults. “Who was lying to me? Why? What happened back then?”

“Oh, only what you’d expect,” his brother sneered. “The sect elders, of course! Or do you think those suppression arrays got laid down by themselves?”

“I know that,” Lan Qiren said with frustration. “But which ones? And what does that have to do with Lan Muzhi’s murder? Was someone else involved…?”

“They were all involved.”

“Impossible.”

“Is it?”

“It is,” Lan Qiren insisted. “That is going too far, it cannot be believed. Xiongzhang, you keep telling me I am stupid, that I do not understand. Fine, I accept it, I admit it! I am too stupid to figure it out on my own. So tell me. Tell me what I’m missing.”

He could figure out the basics from what his brother had said so far. Lan Muzhi must have gotten involved with the mine and used the sect’s name to claim it, probably with the aid of some of his allies – not the whole set of sect elders the way his brother claimed, because at least some of them were constitutionally incapable of doing such an underhanded thing, some too moral and others too stupid. But certainly he had involved at least another person or two, enough to help him cover his tracks, at least at first. Only he hadn’t covered it up well enough, because Lan Qiren’s brother had found out what he’d been doing and gone to investigate…only, while he was there, he had presumably met He Kexin and been distracted by falling in love.

No wonder the sect elders had been so against his courtship of He Kexin! Lan Muzhi and his group must have been frantic, knowing that she knew their secret, and it wouldn’t have been too difficult for them to play on the innate snobbery of any number of the other elders to get them on board in resisting the match. But the more they opposed it, the more determined Lan Qiren’s brother became. There was nothing like opposition to encourage a forbidden romance, let alone opposition you suspected to have self-involved motives; nothing would more inflame the heart.

And He Kexin…ah, He Kexin! To her endless misfortune, she simply hadn’t liked Lan Qiren’s brother, or at least she hadn’t liked him as much as he liked her. The highest compliment Lan Qiren had ever heard her give her husband was that he was “a bit all right sometimes,” along with a handful of completely unnecessary comments about how good he was in bed; that, at least, had been a subject on which she had been highly complimentary, even if Lan Qiren sometimes suspected her of mentioning it just to discomfit him. If only she had been a bit more mercenary – if she had been truly wicked rather than merely lacking in scruples – she could have convinced him to ignore the elders, married him for the protection of the position of Madam Lan, and done her best to fight Lan Muzhi from there.

But she hadn’t. She hadn’t wanted to marry Lan Qiren’s brother at all.

And then Lan Muzhi had died, and she’d been accused, and she hadn’t had any other choice.

Something must have gone wrong, for all of them. Lan Muzhi undoubtedly didn’t want to die, He Kexin didn’t want to marry, and Lan Qiren’s brother didn’t want to go into seclusion –

Something must have gone wrong.

But what?

“Perhaps I will,” his brother said, his lips twisted into a grimace. “You’d deserve it, you rotten hypocrite.”

Lan Qiren glared at him, too angry for fear. “Do you want me to beg? Is that it? Is that what it would take?”

“No need. You’ll be begging before the end either way,” his brother said, and Lan Qiren felt a sudden chill go through his body – what did his brother mean by that? “But fine, have it your way, I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything…”

“Start with what happened to Lan Muzhi, please,” Lan Qiren said, and then only belatedly recalled himself enough to try to keep the request a petition rather than the habitual demand it tried to come out as; he had become too accustomed to receiving reports as sect leader, but it wouldn’t do to try to demand anything now. His brother wouldn’t react well to a demand. “Did He Kexin kill him? And if she didn’t, why didn’t she say so?”

“Oh, that. It would have been quite difficult for her to argue that she didn’t kill him, given that she was the only person in the room with him when he died,” Lan Qiren’s brother said. “But no, as a matter of fact, she didn’t. He died of a qi deviation.”

He laughed coldly at Lan Qiren’s blank stare.

“Yes, a qi deviation,” he said with a sneer. “You see, he was having problems of conscience regarding what was going on in the mine. Of all ridiculous things… He tried as hard as he could to be willfully blind to what was happening, but as the leader of the project he was too close to the ground to really manage it. He knew that the go-betweens he’d hired were using forced labor, even if he lied to himself and pretended he didn’t. The emotional turmoil caused his qi to start to deviate, but when the first signs started to appear, he was already in too deep – he couldn’t go to get treatment because then he would have to explain what he’d done that had led him to such a state. And then, because of your precious sect rules, he’d have to be punished.”

“As he should have been,” Lan Qiren said, then immediately bit his tongue: he hadn’t meant to interrupt.

Luckily, his brother was too invested in his story to be distracted.

“She was arguing with him about marrying me,” he said dreamily. “I’d offered for her by then, no matter how many elders opposed it. She didn’t want to, not with such a secret between us, but he wanted her to accept my suit – rather a reversal from his usual position, I know! He’d spent so long trying to keep us apart, but by then he knew that I was getting closer every day to finding out the full truth of what he was up to. He needed to keep me distracted while he cleaned things up.”

Lan Qiren involuntarily hissed. He’d been a sect leader: he’d been on night-hunts, he’d seen the nastiest of inter-sect disputes, he’d read reports by the dozen. He knew about the massacre.

He knew what “cleaned things up” must mean in this context.

“Oh yes,” his brother said, with macabre relish no less than Wen Ruohan’s. “The mine had to be stopped. By that point he’d already given the order and sent his brother to do the business.”

“Lan Zhengquan?” Lan Qiren blurted out, interrupting again, horrified. He’d worked with Lan Zhengquan, for a given value of the word – he’d been one of Lan Qiren’s bitterest opponents during his entirety of his stint as acting sect leader. Lan Zhengquan was a staunch old conservative, with the ability to be incredibly stubborn and inflexible once he’d dug his heels in, and Lan Qiren had had to fight hard to get any number of proposals around his disapproval. It wasn’t always war between them – Lan Qiren was also one to value tradition – and they had collaborated on any number of initiatives in the rare instances when they could reach agreement on what would be the right way forward for the good of the sect.

For reasons Lan Qiren had never been able to entirely determine, Lan Zhengquan was one of the most influential elders in the sect, well-respected if not necessarily well-liked, the sort of person who could make other people go quiet and listen just by showing up. He had a knack for coming up with clever proposals and stratagems to get around their sect’s opponents, though often they were more ruthless than Lan Qiren felt entirely comfortable with. In truth, Lan Zhengquan would have been a brilliant politician and diplomat, an immense asset to their sect, but for his sole idiosyncrasy, which was that despite being hale in both mind and body, he never left the Cloud Recesses for any reason.

“Lan Zhengquan,” his brother confirmed. “Oh, how it made me laugh, all those years, every time you complained about him…he played you for a fool, just as Lan Muzhi wanted to play me. The way he tried to play my Kexin, but she was too strong for him. She wouldn’t have it. And so they were arguing, and that’s when she told him that the forced labor he’d looked the other way on hadn’t just been rogue cultivators, but whole families. Mothers, fathers…children.”

I didn’t want to go into my theories about the massacre around the children, Cangse Sanren had said.

A couple of small ghosts, she’d said.

A short ghost chased Wangji, but he’s all right, Lan Xichen had said, when Lan Qiren had gone to visit them briefly before leaving, as much an aid in gathering his own strength as it was to comfort and reassure them, emotional fortitude being just as important as physical ability. The grown-ups said a few times that the ghost was short. Is that important, Shufu?

At the time, Lan Qiren hadn’t known what Lan Xichen was referring to, so he’d temporized, saying that each night-hunt was different and that it was important not to overlook even minor details as they could be important to solving the ghosts’ resentment and liberating their spirits. He hadn’t realized…

“That was the final straw for Lan Muzhi, it seemed,” his brother continued on, as if it didn’t matter that the woman he’d married, the mother of his children, had looked the other way and in doing so enabled the kidnapping and enslavement of children. Perhaps it didn’t, to him. “To know that his too-ruthless brother was out there cleaning up his mess, and to know what the mess involved, to finally be confronted with the truth of it all – he keeled over right away, and dramatically enough that it stirred up a whole hornet’s nest of accusations. It’s a little ironic, actually: I expect Lan Zhengquan hadn’t been planning to massacre all of them in the mine, just to threaten them, maybe kill one or two of the troublemakers as an example for the rest so they’d keep their mouths shut. But then Lan Muzhi died and Lan Zhengquan had to rush away to deal with it, and from what I understand the people he’d had already there decided in his absence to just keep killing. And then what was there to do but keep covering it up…?”

“That was far from the only option,” Lan Qiren interrupted again, unable to hold himself back. “He could have confessed to his crimes and faced the justice of the sect, as he should have.”

The smile his brother turned onto him was positively ghoulish.

“Of course you would say that,” he said, voice strangely gentle. “Of course you would think that. That’s why no one ever told you.”

Lan Qiren felt cold again.

“You say that it’s impossible that they all knew. You really think that it’s impossible that they all knew. Because our sect elders are not immoral. Because they are not all cruel or wicked, not all selfish and short-sighted – the only thing they have in common, really, is how much they care for the sect, for our sect, for our sect and our family and our face. And that’s enough, isn’t it?”

“No,” Lan Qiren said, but he shuddered. “No. It is not. It cannot be.”

“It is. That’s how complicity works. That’s what got my Kexin, and it’s going to be what gets the rest of the sect, too.” His brother was still smiling. His brother was still smiling. “Everything’s easy if you do it piece by piece, one step at a time. First you tell them that Lan Muzhi borrowed the sect name to make an investment – well, that’s wrong, yes, but it’s not a very big wrong, especially when it turns out that he was using the investment to get valuable spiritual iron that the sect needs and would otherwise have to buy at a high price. Then you mention that he used sect money without permission – still wrong, yes, a little worse than using the name alone, but again, forgivable, understandable. He’s an elder after all, and they have more latitude than most…

“And once you’ve gotten them to agree with that, to start nodding along, only then do you mention, in passing, that he’d let the third party he worked with be the one responsible for getting the labor to work the mine, which is more than a little neglectful but really, as long as it’s now repaired, no real problem. No problem at all, right? Only then, later, it turns out – how terrible! It turns out, who knew, to be forced labor, slavery, and that’s horrifying, of course. But can you really say it was his fault…? Surely not, or so you tell yourself. He is your respected elder, your good friend, your ally of many years – surely it must simply be a mistake, an oversight, a dreadful accident. Right up until he tells you that yes, he knew, and he looked the other way, and then – and then – and then – ”

He laughed.

“And by then it’s too late. Just like it was too late for all those sect elders who were innocent enough of the mine but who got caught up in accusing my Kexin of a murder she did not commit but also could not deny. Just like it was too late for all the ones that Lan Zhengquan convinced to come help him lay down suppression arrays, a normal bit of night-hunting but complex enough to justify an elder’s presence, many of them unaware of why they were having such difficulty in putting it all in place – he only told them after, you see, and by then everything had already happened. By then, their hands were already dirtied, their names already stained by association with such an event, the whole sect at risk of being stained if anyone found out what had happened. Were they supposed to let the sect lose face by revealing all?”

“Yes!”

Lan Qiren’s brother startled, as if he’d almost forgotten that Lan Qiren was there.

“The sect elders themselves are nothing, the sect itself is everything,” Lan Qiren said. His fingernails had dug so far into his fists that his palms were bleeding. “For the sake of the juniors, if nothing else, they should have said something, they should have done something. If they did wrong, they should have been punished. Even if imposing that punishment risked revealing the shame of our sect to the world, even if it lost us face, it would have been worth it. The rules say uphold the value of justice, shoulder the weight of morality, not – not – do whatever is least uncomfortable!”

“Do not forget the grace of your forefathers.”

“Morality is the priority,” Lan Qiren retorted. “Be ethical. No dishonest practices.”

“Honor your teacher.”

“Stay on the righteous path. Do not associate with evil!”

“I should have known better than to debate the rules with you,” Lan Qiren’s brother said, the seemingly complimentary words accompanied by a disdainful sneer. “You, who never bend and never yield…tell me, did it ever occur to you to let me out?”

Lan Qiren paused, all his righteous anger dissipating in his confusion at the sudden change in subject. “Let you out of where?”

“Don’t play the fool! Out of seclusion.”

“What?” Lan Qiren was completely lost now. “Of course not. You said you were going into permanent seclusion to save He Kexin’s life despite her crime and repent for your sins in marrying the woman who committed such a crime. I heard you declare it myself.”

“And did it ever occur to you that I might regret such a decision?”

“All the time,” Lan Qiren said, bewildered. “I certainly would have, in your place. But what does that have to do with anything? You had already done it. It was too late. What could I have done?”

His brother was silent.

“Stupid,” he finally said. “Do you think I am stupid, Qiren, is that it? Or both of us? You, for your unbelievable claim that you do not understand the way the world works – you, who had all the power in the world as sect leader in my absence? Perhaps I really was stupid, for having ever believed in your stupidity, in your innocent façade. If it’s not against the rules, it’s fine, is that it? Is that how you draw the line?”

He took a step forward, his eyes malevolent, and suddenly Lan Qiren was afraid.

He could feel the force of his brother’s spiritual energy, just the way he sometimes did Wen Ruohan’s when the other man wasn’t paying attention – when he was upset or distracted or unbelievably angry. But unlike Wen Ruohan, whose spiritual energy was as hot as the sun, his brother’s power was cold, almost bitingly so. Lan Qiren could feel the frost of it on his shoulders, like the first dusting of winter snow; he could feel the force of it pressing him down, commanding him to kneel.

If he hadn’t been used to Wen Ruohan, he might have had no choice but to yield.

“What are you accusing me of?” he asked, fighting the urge to take a step back. His brother was being intimidating for a reason, though he didn’t understand what that reason might be. “Is that why you hate me so much? Because I – because I did not violate your orders and let you out?”

It seemed almost beyond belief. How could Lan Qiren have done such a thing? Even if it had occurred to him to break the rules, which it had not, there was still filial piety binding his actions. He had to respect his older brother, who was his elder, who was the rightful sect leader, who had made a vow, a public vow…!

And, well, yes, he had offered He Kexin the option to leave, had offered to break the rules for her, but that had been different. His brother had entered seclusion by his own choice, while she’d been a prisoner from the beginning, trapped in a life she did not want. Her punishment had seemed so entirely outsized for the crime that he believed she had committed…

Lan Qiren wondered, suddenly, if that was why she had refused.

He Kexin had known all along that the crime for which she was imprisoned was not the crime she had committed. She’d known, but she’d never told him, and when he’d made the offer to release her, she must have known that he didn’t know what she’d really done. Perhaps she had even known how horrible he would feel if he had released her and only later discovered the truth of it, known that he would feel that he had inadvertently made himself complicit in it, however tangentially. Perhaps she’d known that he, unlike so many others of his sect, would never have forgiven himself for it.

Perhaps that was why she had willingly stayed in her prison.

He’d never know, now. She was gone.

His brother was still advancing upon him.

Lan Qiren gave in and took a step back, but it didn’t help – his brother just kept coming at him, step by slow, purposeful step.

“You know what I’m accusing you of,” his brother said, his voice very soft. “You know that’s not it. You know what you did, Qiren. You know. You wouldn’t look so nervous if you didn’t.”

I look nervous because you’re radiating killing intent at me!

“What do you intend?” Lan Qiren asked, taking another step back. “Xiongzhang…”

“I think you know that, too,” his brother said, and smiled. “Don’t worry, Qiren. You’ll still be around to see the mountain fall and our sect crumble. You were right, earlier: I wouldn’t let you miss that. You’ll just be…hmmm…a few pieces short, that’s all.”

You’ll be begging before the end either way, his brother had said earlier, casual and unruffled.

It seemed that Lan Qiren had, once again, vastly underestimated how much his brother hated him.

“Maybe I’ll say you came out of the Fire Palace that way,” his brother added, and all at once Lan Qiren wasn’t afraid.

He was furious.

“Do not dare,” he snapped, and for some reason that was what got his brother to stop advancing and to look at Lan Qiren thoughtfully instead. “Have you not framed Wen Ruohan for enough already? No matter what you do, it will all blow up or come to nothing, just like every other one of your attempts to harm him.”

His brother sneered. “Is this you trying once again to convince me that you can empathize with my perspective because you’ve supposedly fallen in love? It won’t work, you know.”

“I was being serious,” Lan Qiren said stiffly, more than a little wounded. He’d been acting in good faith…as ever a mistake with his brother, it seemed. “Do not tell lies.”

“Ridiculous,” his brother scoffed, and reached for his sword.

Lan Qiren was unarmed, lacking either sword or instrument. He was barely standing in the face of the pressure of his brother’s spiritual energy bearing down upon him, and he was already weak, still hurt from his time in the Fire Palace even though he’d done everything he could to heal before coming here. But even if he hadn’t been, even if he had been armed and in peak condition, he still wouldn’t have been able to defeat his brother.

He’d promised Wen Ruohan that he would try to protect his life. He’d promised.

If Wen Ruohan found out that Lan Qiren had been hurt in some serious fashion, in this way, in violation of his given word, he would be hurt once again, and this time it would in some part be Lan Qiren’s fault…no!

“I have not finished,” he blurted out, voice shrill with desperation. “I am not yet done.”

His brother paused. “Done with what?”

Lan Qiren resisted the urge to lick his lips, which suddenly felt very dry. He was only going to have one shot at this.

“Asking questions, Xiongzhang,” he said, and bowed his head obediently, like a school child. “Just like you are always encouraging me to ask.”

There was a moment of silence, and Lan Qiren hoped – he hoped –

His brother laughed.

“All right,” he said, sounding cheerful again. Still angry, that wasn’t gone, but cheerful. “I suppose I can answer a few more of your questions. But only if you remember to ask with the proper level of respect.”

Lan Qiren knew what his brother wanted.

Do you have any questions for me? his brother had mocked him, every time they’d met, every single time since he had emerged from seclusion. You haven’t even asked any questions. Are you sure you don’t have any other questions for me now?

Mocking his ignorance. Glorying in his power over him.

Wanting him to beg, and to suffer, and to thank him for his suffering.

Lan Qiren knelt.

His brother smiled to see him on his knees, but gestured for him to continue.

Lan Qiren bowed his head until it touched the floor.

He didn’t care about the shame of it, insofar as bowing to his older brother, however hated, could ever be a shame. It didn’t matter, it was unimportant next to what he needed to accomplish.

He needed to stay alive and intact. He needed to find a way out of this situation.

He needed to stall long enough for Cangse Sanren, at least, to finish her work and get the Lan sect out of the way, a ploy that he’d been very carefully avoiding even thinking about lest he accidentally slip up and give her away. That had been the second part of their plan, one that assumed that even if Lan Qiren couldn’t actually find a way to stop his brother, which they’d admitted was likely, then at a minimum he would be able to distract him, to play for time and keep him here, far away from the rest of the Lan sect, away from his place of power and all his intended victims, away from where he could see her and realize what she was doing and stop her.

Lan Qiren had to do anything he could to buy more time. He had to wait and he had to hold out, because he had faith in Cangse Sanren. She would manage to convince his sect to move, saving their lives and their souls in ways they would never and could never know of, and when she did, she would send the signal…and as soon as her flare went off, his brother would know that he’d been tricked.

He would know that his brilliant plan of revenge would never be able to work as intended.

It shouldn’t be long now.

Lan Qiren hoped.

“Very good,” his brother said, good humor restored. “Ask your questions.”

Lan Qiren didn’t actually care about anything his brother had to say at this point, having heard more than enough to make him want to throw up and maybe scream, but he had always been a good student. If his brother wanted him to ask questions, he would find questions to ask.

“Were you always planning on targeting the Wen sect?” he asked. “Wen Ruohan made it sound as though his proposal of marriage to me came to you as a surprise.”

“It was a surprise. Though I suppose in retrospect that perhaps it shouldn’t have been. I just never picked you for one to violate Do not attach yourself to those in power and influence.” A chuckle. “I hadn’t been planning on involving the Wen sect at all. You can lay full blame for that on yourself. Such a wonderful dowry you brought your lover, Qiren!”

Lan Qiren pressed his lips together, but did not protest. His role here was to suffer.

“How would it work without them?” he asked instead. “What was your plan for me then?”

“I was going to marry you to Liu Xuesong, the daughter of Quanjiao Liu. Even if they weren’t one of the ones that initially offered for you, it wouldn’t have been hard to convince them. And then, once you were married, I was going to frame her for attacking you, execute her as an assassin, and go to war against them in your honor.”

In his honor? Lan Qiren felt sick, his belly roiling: if his brother’s plan had succeeded, the Lan sect’s disgrace and dishonor would have been ascribed to him. For all the rest of its history, his sect would have remembered him only as the inciting cause for such a disaster.

How much do you hate me?

“Though that’s not strictly true, actually. I was going to give you the opportunity to enter permanent seclusion with her to preserve her life, just like I did. It seemed fitting. Seclusion or the destruction of an innocent life – I was curious to know what you’d choose.”

Lan Qiren shuddered.

He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.

“When Wen Ruohan made his offer for you, he made it sound as though he was just taking advantage of the opportunity,” his brother mused. “I thought for sure that he would throw you into the Fire Palace as soon as you arrived at the Nightless City, or fairly shortly thereafter once he’d finished having his fun with you. And then I was going to involve the Wen sect in my war, but only indirectly – we’d still be going to war in your honor, of course, but I could play it off later as some sort of misunderstanding. I’d blame someone else for it, some other sect, and we could make peace between our sects by picking their bones clean together.”

Another chuckle.

“A tyrant like Wen Ruohan can be appeased easily enough by giving him more of the power he hungers for. What’s a plaything in comparison to that? He would have been a good ally for the sect to have, at least in the short term; between his sect’s might and his own terrible reputation, he would have been quite useful. Besides, a continued war would give me time and room to grow and be something to keep everyone busy with after we’d abandoned the old ways… It was a good plan. I’d worked on my original one for so long, but this was better. It was worth adjusting to accommodate it.”

Lan Qiren felt pressure at the back of his head.

It was his brother’s bootheel, pressing his face further down into the dirt of the cave floor.

“And you just had to ruin it.”

Lan Qiren choked a little as the pressure increased, twisting his head so that it was facing the side – the one his brother hadn’t struck earlier. His cheekbone dug painfully into the dirt, but at least he wasn’t at risk of getting a mouthful of soil and being unable to breathe.

“Xiongzhang…”

“You just had to go and seduce Wen Ruohan,” his brother said. His voice seemed calm, but it was obviously fake: he was furious. “I had to figure out a way to fight the most powerful man in the entire cultivation world because of your wantonness.”

Wantonness? What in the world was his brother talking about?

His brother had accused him of something like that before, too, back at the Lotus Pier. He’d sneered at Lan Qiren for having whispered in Wen Ruohan’s ear, accusing him of having violated -

“Promiscuity is forbidden,” Lan Qiren said.

His brother grabbed him by the collar and threw him against the far wall.

Lan Qiren managed to catch himself and land on his feet instead, but just barely. His still injured ankle screamed in agony.

“How dare you!” his brother howled. His face was fully red, suddenly, as if he’d completely lost his mind – as if he were suffering from the early signs of qi deviation himself. Or perhaps not so early…he really had gone mad, hadn’t he? “How dare you taunt me with what you’ve done!”

“What are you talking about?!” Lan Qiren shouted back. “Why are you so fixated on this? Why do you care so much that I slept with Wen Ruohan?”

“I don’t care that you slept with Wen Ruohan! I care about the fact that you slept with my wife!”

Time seemed to stop.

“…what?” Lan Qiren choked out. “Me? With – with He Kexin? I would rather die!”

His brother thought…

That he’d –

With his –

With her?!

“Don’t lie,” his brother hissed. “I know it all. I know what you did behind my back, while I was locked away. It wasn’t enough that you helped yourself to my position, not enough that you won the loyalty of my friends and raised my children as your own, not enough that you were somehow able to seduce the king of torture to your side – you had to take her, too?!”

“But…I did not do that,” Lan Qiren said, still numb with shock. “It never even crossed my mind. Xiongzhang, I swear I never touched her like that! I went to my marriage without having ever even kissed anyone else! Do not tell lies!”

His brother was beyond reason. He drew his sword.

“Xiongzhang, please…!”

A flare went off in the distance, catching both their attention.

It was in the colors of Gusu Lan, and far away from the place in Xixiang where they should have been.

Cangse Sanren had succeeded!

Lan Qiren unwisely exhaled in relief, his shoulders relaxing by the barest fraction, but that was already more of a mistake than he could afford to make with his brother, who lunged at him.

Lan Qiren managed to dodge the strike by a hair, his brother’s sword going into the wall beside him. The shockwave full of power and flung-out gravel from the strike still stung.

“You think this means you’ve won?” his brother snarled. His eyes were red with fury. “You think you’ve won, do you, you bastard – you haven’t won anything. I’ll show you!”

He made a hand seal with his free hand, and suddenly the array on the floor beneath them activated, glowing bright with spiritual energy. Not just initial activation, either, but full activation.

“No!” Lan Qiren cried out. “The mountain!”

But it was too late.

The array beneath him was fully active, having roared to life under the command of his brother’s powerful cultivation. Already the signals were being sent out to the connected arrays, the power rippling out in steady stream, the tunnels starting to twist and the earth starting to break – the landslide was coming, and there could surely be no force powerful enough to hold it back.

All those innocent lives…!

Lan Qiren temporarily lost his head and lunged at his brother, trying to grab the sword away from him, though he did not know for what purpose, whether he meant to try to attack his brother with it or simply to try to use it to fly back to the mountain as fast as he could, to offer what little help he could, to save even a single life…

“You’re so desperate to save them,” his brother said mockingly, effortlessly knocking him back and to the ground. “So desperate for them, but not for her. Did you even care about her, my Kexin? Or was she merely a plaything to you?”

“She was nothing to me!” Lan Qiren realized almost immediately that he’d misspoken. “Xiongzhang, I did not sleep with her.”

“Lies,” his brother spat, and tried to strike him again. Lan Qiren threw himself to the side as fast as he could, and even so the blow still nearly caught his shoulder, leaving a painful cut in its wake. “Lies upon lies, hypocrisy of the highest order – I’ve never met anyone as shameless as you!”

He scarcely seemed to care about his plan failing, not when Lan Qiren was in front of him, the target of all his irrational hatred.

“Xiongxhang, please,” Lan Qiren said, holding out his hands in front of him, trying to ward his brother off. “What makes you think I slept with her? Who told you such a thing?”

“She did,” his brother said. “She said it herself! When I came to her and told her all my plans, my wonderful plans that were going to revenge us on all those that wronged us and kept us apart for all these years – the ones that she should have loved, the ones that should have made her as happy as they made me, because she always understood me, better than anyone. My Kexin. She understood me and I understood her; we were perfect for each other, we always had been. We could have been so happy, we should have been so happy – but no. We couldn’t. It was all ruined. Because of you!”

Lan Qiren had been backing off again, but now he stopped.

His ears had started ringing again. That high-pitched ringing of shock and horror –

Surely not.

Surely not.

“Do you know what she told me? She said that she would never agree to such a plan. She would never agree, not even if I was the last and only person left in the world that she could see. And then – and then – she said – ”

He laughed. The laugh was insane.

“She said that I wasn’t the only person she had left. And between the two of us, she liked you better!”

“Xiongzhang,” Lan Qiren whispered. “Xiongzhang, no.”

He had forgotten.

It had been such a long time: Lan Qiren had forgotten.

He wasn’t the only person with access to He Kexin’s chambers. Yes, he was her only contact with the outside world, but…there wasn’t only an outside world for her. There was also a further in.

His brother had had access to her rooms the entire time.

He was her husband. Although the strictness of his seclusion meant that he could not visit her too often, could not live together with her the way Lan Qiren and Wen Ruohan had (rather shockingly) settled themselves into, he was still entitled to visit her at least once a month. It was through those visits that Lan Qiren’s nephews had been conceived.

Lan Qiren had once offered to He Kexin the right to block her husband from her door, but she’d declined, laughing at him and making a joke about sex that had made his ears turn hot and red. He’d never offered again.

She’d never asked.

His brother had access to He Kexin’s rooms.

To He Kexin, who had never shown any sign of wanting to kill herself.

“Xiongzhang,” Lan Qiren said, voice trembling. “When He Kexin said that to you…what did you do? What did you do to her?”

“Only what you made me do,” his brother said. “Only what you made me do, Qiren. You took her away from me!”

Lan Qiren shook his head. His whole body was shaking now, violently, as if he had suddenly been overtaken by a freezing blizzard, one that sucked all the warmth out of his body all at once.

“How could you?” he asked. No, he demanded. “How could you? She was your wife! How could you kill your own wife?”

That seemed to penetrate his brother’s madness. He faltered.

He stared at Lan Qiren, still holding his sword, pointing it at him.

“You did it,” he said, but – more hesitantly. “Not me. It was you.”

“Do not tell lies, Xiongzhang,” Lan Qiren said. “I am not lying now. I am not lying: I did not have sex with He Kexin. Not once. I never took her to bed, I never kissed her, I never touched her with that sort of intent. Whatever you think I did with her, I did not do.”

His brother stared at him.

His eyes were very wide. He’d heard what Lan Qiren had said this time.

He’d heard, and he was starting to believe.

“I visited He Kexin regularly to discuss the status of her children, my nephews,” Lan Qiren explained. “It was my duty as the one raising them. At times, when etiquette required me to stay and there was nothing else to do, we would discuss – irrelevant things. Poetry, painting. That sort of thing. Passing the time. That is all, Xiongzhang. That’s all she was referring to. She…”

Liked me better than you.

“…may have been trying to get a rise out of you, with what she said.”

That was true, too. He Kexin had always enjoyed teasing people: sometimes gently, as with Lan Wangji, and sometimes more harshly, as she did during the times she was irritated with Lan Qiren.

Speak meagerly, for too many words bring only harm.

“No,” his brother said. “No. You have to be – you must have – ”

But his denials were already faltering on their own. Just as Lan Qiren knew his brother, his brother knew him: he knew that Lan Qiren would not lie. He knew that Lan Qiren couldn’t lie, not believably.

He was starting, at long last, to realize the real truth of what he had done.

To realize that he had killed his own beloved. That he had struck her down with his own hands.

That her life was gone, that He Kexin was gone, and it was all because of him.

For someone of their family, their Lan sect with their implacable hearts…there was really only one way this could now go.

Lan Qiren’s brother was already holding his sword. It wouldn’t take much to lift it to his own neck and draw it across, a clean slice, the same as the one he’d given He Kexin.

It was the only way this could end.

Lan Qiren resigned himself to have to serve as witness.

Sure enough, after a few more moments had passed, as the realization sunk in fully, his brother lifted his sword.

He put it to his own neck.

He –

“No!”

He turned and ran away.

Lan Qiren stared after him, watching as his brother took flight on his sword and disappeared into the wind.

Somehow, that was more shocking to him than anything else that had already happened.

Wasn’t his brother a Lan? Didn’t he love like a Lan, with that wild heart that burned all in its path? Shouldn’t he have been burned in turn upon realizing that he had destroyed his own heart?

Lan Qiren had always measured love by his brother’s standard.

If what his brother felt for He Kexin wasn’t love…then what was?

------------

A/N: Congrats to all the readers that guessed! :D

[hand-of-devotion]

I keep rotating certain aspects of the Evontra'vir-Ashton conversation and there's one specific thing I see other people taking away from it that is lacking a certain amount of nuance that stuck with me.

Specifically in regards to Ashton's views and how they parallel his fathers.

It should be obvious to everyone at this point that Ashton's stubborn hypocritical "refusal to the call" rooted in his anti divine/fate beliefs need some genuine reflection. They are important and they are aware of it but they don't want any of the hard to grapple with things associated. He needs to think about what it is he can actually do moving forward rather than getting caught up in what he feels he's owed.

However! One very important thing that I keep seeing others ignore or maybe just not even pick up on is THIS.

Efterin's entitlement came from his own zealots ego. The powers he believed he was promised an understanding and control over were NEVER his.

Ashton's entitlement towards the situation is rooted in what was done TO him. Those powers are in fact his. They have been there since he was a child due to a ritual he had no say in. That ritual physically altered his body and killed off nearly everyone in his entire village.

Which. Again. Just because they HAVE those powers doesn't mean they were ever guaranteed mastery over them. Certainly not without putting in effort. It has never been a "gift", even if part of them wishes it was. There is likely never going to be a reality in which the full-blown titan level abilities just ACTIVATE for him with full ease. Moving forward. He has a base level of info. Which he likely didn't find satisfying (but given the situation, there was never really a "satisfying" answer). Now they need to just. Look forward and inward. Make some changes if they want some changes.

But yeah. At the end of the day. Regardless of parallels and a real need for character reflection and growth. Saying that Ashton is "the same" as Efterin seems. Fairly reductive, all things considered.