#and realizes that it's not just about her personal ambitions and that her talent can touch others... that she made this happen...

[onewordshy]

Wish I could bottle the feeling this gives me

[pitchsidestories]

10 Things I Hate About You (2) II Alexia Putellas x Reader

Can be read before part 1

part 1 I part 3 I masterlist I word count: 2255

2017

Your first day as a player for FC Barcelona was about to start. With a deep sigh you entered the facilities. Overwhelmed by the amount of new impressions, you didn’t realize that another person stepped to you. You flinched in surprise when you heard a female voice say; “Hola! Are you new here too?“

“Actually, I am.“, you answered, turning around to the other young woman. She was blonde and wore a big smile on her face. She held out her hand for you to shake it; “Oh good. Hi, I’m Mapi.“ “Nice to meet you, Mapi.“, you smiled, taking her hand and introduced yourself. “Pleasure.“, she grinned. For some reason, her presence calmed you a bit. “Ready to meet the rest? They do have quite the talented squad.“, you asked. Mapi just shrugged; “That’s what I heard. But we wouldn’t be here if the coaches didn’t think we could keep up with them.“ “True.“, you had to admit, your nervousness almost gone.

“Hi, guys. You must be new here.“, another player chimed in who introduced herself as Aitana. The team mate next to her, named Alexia just rolled her eyes; “And already late.“ You gave her an apologetic smile; “Yeah, we got a bit lost at first.“ “But we’re here now.“, Mapi added, gesturing towards the both of you. You nodded; “And ready to play.“ But your enthusiasm was not well received. You could feel Alexias scrutinizing glance on you; “We’ll see about that.“

Another player, Leila, gave you an encouraging wink; “Ale is just worried one of you will steal her place.“ “That’s not going to happen.“, Alexia shook her head with determination. Mapi casually ignored her new team mates bad mood; “Yeah, I’m a defender so no worries, Ale.“ “I wasn’t worried to begin with.“, she snapped and turned around to make her way towards the pitch. You watched her with raised eyebrows, leaning over to Leila; “Is she always like that?“ “She’s different when you get to know her. Trust me.“, she assured you, laughing. Together, you followed her for your first training session with Barcelona. “I hope you’re right.“ Leila smiled confidently; “Trust me, I am.“

During the training session you could feel Alexias eyes staring intensely at you and you asked yourself why she did that. Was it true what Leila said earlier? That she was worried you could take away her position she already built for herself at this club. Anyway, you could not think about this observation for too long as you needed to concentrate on what the coach wanted to see from you and your teammates. Becoming a part of this special team was a childhood dream come true for you and you wanted to show him that he should consider you as part of the starting line. No matter what a certain number 11 thought of that.

After the training the coach wanted to speak to you and Alexia.” You too..”, he started. Alert to the tone in his voice you interrupted him:” Yes?” “What is it?”, the brunette woman added impatient. The older man cleared his throat: “I want you two to play together.” “Uhm you do.”, unsure you looked to the other midfielder. This was too much for Alexia, she didn’t like his idea at all: ”What?” “Yes but.”, the coach tried to intervene. Expectantly you waited for him to continue: “But?” “No, whatever it’s, it’s a no from me.”, the brunette shook her head. You clicked your tongue at her: “Wait, let him explain his idea first.” “Shut up. You just want playtime on my position.”, she hissed. Calmly you admitted :”Of course I want to play too.” “Then get in line.”, Alexia grumpily demanded. Determined you answered: “No.” “No?!”, the midfielder repeated in disbelief.

“Oh please, you’re not the only one with ambition and to whom this club means a lot. Besides you’re only a year older than me so stop being so full of yourself.”, you scolded her. Everyone knew her history by now, she was the young shining star of this team, and you tried not to be blinded by that fact, besides she only showed you her ugly side so far. Much later you’d realize how similar your two ways have been and what a wonder it was that your paths hadn’t crossed earlier. Suspiciously Alexia threw an eyebrow up: “If this club means so much to you then why did you join only now.” “I had some difficult injuries in the past but now I’m here.”, you swallowed hard. Drily the brunette commented without showing any empathy in her eyes:“I’ll feel bad for you later.”

You let out a huff and cocked your head; “Oh please, I don’t need your pity, princessa.“ “Call me princessa one more time.“, Alexia pressed through gritted teeth. But you didn’t let yourself be intimated by her. “Or what? Will your fake eyelashes fall off, princessa?“, you continued. Slowly, she nodded. Her smile was more a teeth-baring than an actual smile; “You think you can make fun of me? I’ll show you on the pitch, little one.“ “I’ll be ready.“, you answered and completely ignored your coach who looked at the two of you in exasperation; “You’re supposed to work together, not against each other!“ “Say goodbye to your career then.“, Alexia replied unimpressed. You crossed your arms in front of your chest; “Oh, I don’t give up that easily.“

“Girls!“, your coach finally called for attention. You looked at him surprised; “Yes?“ “You either play together or none of you plays!“, he threatened, his tone did not allow any discussion. Though, Alexia tried it anyway; “Wait. Are you serious? You can’t do that to me. I’ve been playing here for a long time already!“ “You heard me.“, he ended the conversation and left. Alexia barely looked at you as she followed him out of the room.

Sighing, you almost ran into Leila on your wait. “Do you want to get dinner with some of us tonight?“, she asked full of excitement. You needed a moment to understand the questions, your thoughts were still spinning around the conversation from a moment ago. “Oh. I’d love to but I can’t. My little sister arrived today.“, you shrugged apologetically, giving her a half-smile. Leilas face turned serious; “Oh. I understand if you want to show her around and stuff. But you can also bring her if you want.“ “Really? I’ll ask her.“ You pulled out your phone, texting your younger sister who replied within seconds with several Partying Face-Emojis. “We’re both coming.“, you told Leila with a smile. She clapped her hands happily; “Amazing. I’ll text you the address.“ “Great, I can’t wait.“

You and your sister were some of the first people at the restaurant. You were happy to see Mapi when she arrived only a few minutes after you. “Who’s that?“, she asked when she sat down. Her gaze fixed on your sister. “Oh, that’s my younger sister.“, you explained, gesturing towards her. She smiled at Mapi with big doe eyes “Hi, you must be Mapi.“ They shook hand across the table. “I am.“, Mapi confirmed, blood rushing into her cheeks. “Pleasure to meet you.“

“Marta, do you know if Ale is coming with Alba aswell?”, Leila asked her teammate casually. The older defender nodded smiling:“Yes, I think she said they wanted to come.” “Oh god, no.”, you muttered as you realized the notorious midfielder was coming too tonight. Confused Marta looked at you: ”What?” “Alexia hates me.”, you informed her. Amused Leila asked: “After one day here?” “Yes.” “That must be a new record.”, the defender laughed. From her you wanted to know: “Does she hate every midfielder who comes new to the team?” “No, she doesn’t.”, Leila answered seriously. Truthfully Marta added, not without a wink: “Alexia only hates the ones who she thinks will be her biggest competition.” “Oh really?”, you said not completely convinced by what they said. This could not be only the reason for Alexias’s hatred, right?

Playfully Aitana pouted: “I take that as offense.” “You’re still young Aitana your time to shine will come.”, Leila promised the young midfielder.  In a cheerful tone Marta told her:“ Don’t worry. They’re probably just too similar. That’s all.” “The similarities are creepy.”, Aitana admitted smirking. “I don’t see any similarity.”, you interjected. This did not stop the young midfielder from starting to count the things she thought you had in common with Alexia: ”The position, the younger sisters, the clear ambition to be the best, the early death of a parent.”  “Still that does not make us the same person.”, you remarked. A small grin was on Aitana’s lips as she concluded:  “Not the same but very similar.”

Suddenly the person they were talking about was standing at the end of the table and was throwing an apologetic smile at her teammates: „Sorry for being late but Albs could not decide what dress she wanted to wear.” Alba was poking the brunette with her elbow slightly into the side for her comment.  “As long as you’re here now.”, Mariona waved it off. “Exactly sit down, you’re lucky we started with drinks first.”, Patri told the arriving sisters. Alexia’s smile froze as she spotted you:”Drinks are the most important part of the evening anyway. Wait.. who invited her?” You could feel the temperature dropping around the table.

“Me.”, Leila answered who was in a good mood besides her teammates cool tone. She kept asking:“Why would you do that?” “Because she’s new and a restaurant visit is a great way to get to know the other teammates.”, the older woman replied nonchalantly.Alexia took a deep breath to collect herself and sighed; “Right. I’ll need more drinks than that if I have to spend the evening with her around.“ Her team mates didn’t disappoint. As the evening went on, they made sure Alexia always had a drink in hand. The later it got, the more relaxed she seemed to be. Mostly thanks to the alcohol.

Around midnight, Mapi leaned over to her, pointing a finger; “Oh, I know why you behave like that!“ “Like what?“, Alexia asked, scrunching her nose. “In front of her. You have a crush.“, Mapi explained, nodding into your direction. Alexia let out a high pitched laugh; “Don’t be ridiculous.“ “I’m not. You are!“, Mapi grinned back at her. With a smile, Alexia shook her head, eyes fixed on her team mate; “You know, Mapi, you’re pretty funny. I’d like you if you weren’t friends with her.“ The defender raised an eyebrow; “Excuse me? I’m very serious. And we’re both just new to the team.“ “But you already spend a lot of time with her, so… looks like we can never be friends.“, Alexia replied, taking a long sip of her red wine. Alba joined them, clinking her glass to Mapis; “Ale’s just joking. She already likes you, Mapi.“ “I think she does. I like her too.“, the defender answered, amused. “But you like her as well.“, Alexia complained, her gaze flicking to you for half a second. Her new teammate nodded slowly; “I do. She’s my friend too.“

There was silence for a while before a smirk appeared on Alexias lips again; “Speaking of crushes, you and her sister…“ Wide-eyed, Mapi cut her off immediately; “No. Absolutely not. Forget about it. You say you don’t have a crush, I say I don’t have a crush. We leave it at that.“ “But you’re clearly-“ “No.“,Mapi curtly but with certainty.“Okay, got it.“, the midfielder finally gave in. “Thank you.“ “You’re welcome.“, she laughed. “Do you want another drink?“, Mapi offered. “Yes.“ “Here you go.“ Alexia eyed the drink that Mapi had pushed in front of her with a sceptical expression; “Thanks.“

A few weeks after this first team event, things between you and Alexia hadn’t changed much. The loss in your first game of the season was not exactly helpful either.

Once again, the coach called you two back into his office. “What did you two think you were doing?“, he yelled. Taken aback by the sudden outburst, you plainly answered; “Playing?“ “That doesn’t work if you two keep ignoring each other!“ Alexia gestured towards you, clearly offended; “She’s just not fast enough.“ “I don’t want to hear anything! I never say this to any of my players but this time it is true. You two lost us this game!“ Intimidated you looked up; “We’ll win the next one. Promise.“ Decidedly, he shook his head; “No. I don’t want any empty promises. I want actions. You two will come early before training tomorrow and work on this!“

Startled Mapi looked at Alexia who stormed into the changing room:“Ale, what did the coach want from you two?” “He’s an idiot.”, the midfielder mumbled grumpily. The blonde tried to soothe the nerves of the brunette: “Ale.” “We have extra training together. Tomorrow.”, Alexia groaned exasperated.

Cautiously Mapi answered:” Actually, that sounds like a good idea.” “Oh, shut up, Mapi.”, the midfielder hissed. But this did not intimidate the defender at all:” You can pretend to hate her all you want but I saw how you look at her when she’s not watching.” “Have you ever considered getting yourself some glasses? Because you’re obviously not seeing right.”, the brunette sneered. Amused the blonde rolled her eyes:” Sure, Ale.” “Keep your mouth closed, Mapi. You might find it funny, but I can’t deal with her.”

“You’ll have to though she’s part of the team now.”, Mapi remarked with a knowing smile.

[twistiraki]

🎀Headcanons how Twisted Wonderland boys met you and what kind of family you'd have 🎀 Scarabia and Pomefiore

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗ TᗯIᔕTEᗪ ᗯOᑎᗪEᖇᒪᗩᑎᗪ Characters Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Rook, Epel x F!Reader Warnings none ‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

🦦Kalim Al-Asim

Y/n’s got introduced by Kalim's father as a suitable marriage candidate due to her wealthy family background, Y/n and Kalim began their relationship as friends. However, as they spent more time together, they realized their connection ran much deeper. Kalim's cheerful nature complemented Y/n's intelligence, and she completed him in ways he never expected. They fell in love for who they truly were, appreciating each other's dreams and ambitions, forming a strong and loving partnership.

Y/n and Kalim have a bustling and joyful household with currently five children. They are blessed with three boys named Wasim, Omar, and Amir, and two girls named Laiha and Almira . Currently, Y/n is pregnant with twin girls, and the family eagerly awaits their arrival. Kalim's genuinely friendly and cheerful nature makes him the perfect father, always ready to play with his kids and make them smile. Despite his occasional clumsiness, he is a loving and supportive parent. The family enjoys many joyous moments together, and Kalim encourages his children to pursue their passions, just as Y/n supports him in his role as the head of the household.

🐍Jamil Viper

Y/n and Jamil met at a lively party. A moment of frustration led to a one-night stand, but little did they know it was the spark that ignited in something more. They might not have been looking for a relationship, but fate had other plans.Y/n was pregnant. As they embraced parenthood, they discovered their connection. With each passing day, their hearts danced to the rhythm of love, and now, their little family was the most beautiful melody in their lives.

Jamil and Y/n have one bright and talented son named Malik. Y/n is the person Jamil trusts the most, and she understands his passion for dancing and his desire to show his true self. Jamil's feelings for Y/n run deep, and though he may be good at hiding them, she can see through his façade. They are a tight-knit and loving family, cherishing the time they spend together and creating beautiful memories.

🪞Vil Schoenheit

Y/n's first impression of Vil wasn't favorable. When Y/n first delivered flowers to Vil from her flower shop, they seemed like opposites. Vil found Y/n's dungarees and mud on her face a little amusingly messy, while Y/n thought Vil was a bit too vain and egoistic.However, as they interacted more while Y/n delivered flowers to Vil from her shop, they discovered their shared traits of hard work and ambition. Their initial animosity turned into mutual respect, and they began to like each other more. Vil surprised Y/n with flowers and asked her out on a date, forming a special connection between them.

Vil and Y/n have a daughter named Annalise, who inherits her father's beauty and elegance. Y/n appreciates Vil's effort in making their home a beautiful and comfortable place. He values Annalise's opinions and takes care of her with a motherly touch. Vil's forceful nature is softened by Y/n's calming presence. They are both loving and attentive parents, doting on Annalise and supporting her dreams.

🏹Rook Hunt

Y/n noticed Rook around town and the library where she worked, and soon, she found poems expressing his admiration on her desk. While Rook's initial presence felt eerie, he opened up about his feelings for Y/n, making her curious.  Amidst curious gazes and secret poems, Y/n and Rook's story unfolded in the most whimsical way. One day, Y/n found Rook standing smiling in her garden. Though she found it a tad creepy, his genuine confession of liking her melted her heart. As they spent more time together, Y/n couldn't resist the enchantment of Rook's affectionate heart, and she grew more and more fond of him.

Y/n and Rook have a dynamic family with three children – one girl and two boys. Their daughter is named Odette, reflecting the beauty and wonder that Rook is fascinated with. The two boys are named Orion and Atlas, each having their unique curiosities and interests. Rook's fascination with beauty extends to the curiosity he shares with his children, and they often explore peculiar interests together. Y/n's nurturing nature allows their family to grow and thrive. Rook is a genuine and loving father, always there for his kids and eager to encourage their passions.

🍎Epel Felmier

During a visit to Harveston, Y/n met Epel through the cousin, from the hairdresser's uncle, who was the neighbor of Epel's grandmother. When Y/n visited Harveston for a family visit, she had no idea that her heart was about to take a wild adventure. She met Epel, who was eager to show her around the town. But as soon as he laid eyes on Y/n, he was smitten! Attempting to be cool and flirty, Epel's accent slipped, revealing his true, country self. Y/n couldn't help but giggle, and her laughter became music to his ears. Their picnic in the apple garden became a delightful chapter in their story of sweet, countryside romance.

Epel and Y/n have two wild and energetic boys named Wiliam and Brody. Y/n appreciates Epel's dainty charm and his desire to be more manly. She encourages him to express himself freely and supports him in solving issues head-on. As parents, they embrace the challenges and joys of raising their boys. Epel's competitive spirit is balanced by Y/n's patience, creating a harmonious family environment where love and laughter abound.

You can find the other parts here! Hearstlabyul Savanaclaw/Octavinelle Scarabia/Pomefiore (You are here) Ignihyde/Diasomnia

[demon-defender]

It's really weird to think about how much Iruma changed Azz's life, and how he kind of saved him in a way??

Azz was a very talented kid growing up, so much so that other kids were intimidated by him to the point of not even approaching him. Hell, he didn't even have any adult role models, since his mother wasn't someone he looked up to and most of the other adults he interacted with worked for them. So he was essentially always "above" anyone he met for one reason or another.

Then he enters Babyls. At first, it's the same as always, he excels and impresses everyone, getting the title of top student on the entrance exam and getting to give a speech in the opening ceremony.

...Except he doesn't get to do that, actually. Turns out, the headmaster's grandson is going to give the speech (and this was seemingly decided at the last second). And what does this guy (who entered Babyls not by proving himself in the exam, but by simply being the headmaster's grandson) do? He flexes his magical abilities by saying an incredibly dangerous curse.

Who does this Iruma think he is, stealing Asmodeus's spot and having the nerve to act so proudly??? Naturally, he must challenge him to a duel to teach him a lesson and regain his status as the star student.

So they battle... Or Asmodeus does. Iruma just keeps dodging his attacks. This goes on for a while. Imagine being Azz, how insulting would it be to have a battle go on for like half an hour and not being able to land a single hit on your opponent? Even moreso since said opponent isn't attacking back?? I would've died

But anyway, it only takes Iruma one single move to knockout Asmodeus. If this had been between two normal demons, Azz would not have been able to live this down. But not only did Iruma carry him to the infirmary (which is probably a rare sign of kindness and respect for someone who won a duel in a single motion, especially in the netherworld), Azz now has someone to look up to.

After years of not even finding an equal because he's apparently so above anyone else, suddenly he has someone who's way above him. And hanging out and respecting Iruma opens the door to forming more meaningful relationships with equals. I think the best example of this is how, at first, he looks down on Clara, but spending time with her makes him realize that she's a wonderful person and he likes being with her!! He starts to talk casually with her and calling her by her first name, which means a lot from someone who values manners and formality as much as Azz.

Imagine if none of this had happened. If Asmodeus just ended up in the top class and still believed he was somehow better than everyone around him. We've seen how he started to stagnate when it comes to his rank in the original manga, so I can only picture him growing more stressed as it gets harder for him to go up the ranks and generally maintain this "young prodigy" image as he gets older. You know like gifted kid burnout but more literal because of the fire powers.

So no wonder he's obsessed, Iruma essentially gave him an ambition!

[camelspit]

PICK THE WOMAN THAT YOU WANT ELIMINATED!!

Master Cadence by @tw-5

Umber by @chronically-ill-psionipath

Tinker by @thefoxysnake

Esha Aria by @camelspit

Lady Galvin by @an-ungraceful-swan

Note! Definition of a sexywoman:

According to the sexywomanpedia, a sexywoman is "a character who shows the 'lanky suitman villain' tropes, is popular with wlw, and/or is highly divisive." Some factors to consider are morality (or lack thereof), overall mysteriousness, and strength (physical or abilitywise.)

Propaganda:

Master Cadence:

"she’s a linguist. she’s a woman in stem. she’s tired of everyone’s bullshit. she’s fruity as hell. her house is cool as fuck (a howls moving castle style boat-thing made of metal that she built herself because she didn’t want to live in the elven cities???? come on). she’s a MASTER. what more could you want." @let-them-sing-of-others

"she’s an academic. shes smarter than u. she hates on the council and she’s RIGHT. she hates sophie actually you know what she has a hater complex but in a hot way. i love her yr honour." @necromycologist

"she spent YEARS researching on ogres and their culture. idk about you, but i would try keeping her in my good graces because she KNOWS ABOUT DEADLY POISON. WHY ARE PEOPLE NOT TALKING ABOUT THIS. I WOULD SHIT MYSELF IF I CAME ACROSS HER IN REAL LIFE EVEN IF IT WAS IN A GROCERY STORE ON A RANDOM TUESDAY AND SHE WAS BUYING OREOS. FOR ALL WE KNOW, SHE COULD HAVE LOADS OF THAT IN HER HOUSE/ON HER PERSON!!" @corruption-exe

"ok not to be a lesbian or horny on main (<- ace) but HOLY SHIT i want her to step on me. this lady has intensified my sexuality crisis" (anonymous)

Umber:

"Shes an evil hot powerful shade that got killed in the book she got introduced in what more could you want" @thefoxysnake

"Umber (Redacted) is one of the women in the series that isn’t JUST psychological manipulator! She also fought! She broke bones (if I remembered correctly) and messes with everyone’s minds without even revealing her true name! She has a boyfriend! A BOYFRIEND. TRIX. She went through something ‘the incident’ (mentioned in the latest book) and joined the Neverseen! She got Trix, her Pookie to be in the Neverseen as well 🥺. You can tell she was also a good lover how Trix was so sad over her death. KEEP IN MIND SHE DIED BEING CRUSHED, so for those who likes angst; there you go. She died in her mission. She was Tam’s mentor and an EXCELLENT fighter if I do say so myself. Who wouldn’t vote Umber? A girlboss with a sweet boyfriend and has murderous tendencies? 😔🎉 Vote for Umber PLEASE! I’M BEGGING YOU! PLSPLSPLSPLS 😭😭" @chronically-ill-psionipath

Tinker:

"she's trans! she's autistic! she's a mad scientist! she's everything you could possibly want in a woman!!!!!" @gay-otlc

"shes a mad genius she built a mad science castle she invented steampunk literally why would you not love her" @necromycologist

Esha Aria:

"shes sooo funny guys. she fucked with the system to get some dick and almost got away with it. she chose that dick over her daughter. she may be exiled but at least she has her man. morals and consequences mean nothing!!!" @camelspit

Lady Galvin:

"She's one of the greatest alchemists there ever was, and yet no one recognizes her for her talents. She's surrounded by people who will never understand or appreciate her, and because of that she tries to make their life hell. She has no ambitions, no future, no goal, and yet she doesn't break. She wears her cool ass capes and rules over detention with an iron fist, desperately searching for the control she lost when she realized her job wasn't up to her. She's an evil supergenius stuck in a children's school." @lizzie-dude

[ifjgh]

Second girlie, is my silly little Roller Disco Queen, Patricia Molloy.

Here's some basic info! <3

Goes By: Patty Nicknames: Patty, Clover DOB: Jan.10th, 1958 Age: 20 (Until her B-Day) Gender: Female, but isn't big on labels (She/Her) Sexuality: Bi/Pan Ethnicity: Irish Occupation: Student (Health and Medicine Major), Two Possible side-jobs Socioeconomic Status: Middle Class, never really had to worry about money, but isn't exactly the richest girl on the block Place of Birth: Cork, Ireland Family: Father's a respectable farmer, while her Mother's a stay at home type. Doesn't really get along with them though, she's happy to be a whole country away from them to say the least. Height: 4'10“ Weight: 125 lbs. Disabilities: None (?) besides being too short for things (Opposite problem as Manzo) Fashion Style: Clowncore, but in a good way, Flashy Roller Disco Queen, with added minimum safety gear Coordination (or lack thereof): Probably the most coordinated out of the Main 8, mostly because she's rarely not on wheels outside of class, girl's got balance for days Personality Type/Trait: Entertainer - Spontaneous, Energetic, Enthusiastic, Never a Boring Moment with her, Cheerful Introvert/Extrovert: More of a mix, but leans towards Extrovert most of the time. It really shines through when she's out on the rink Intelligence: Average, gets good enough grades, and knows enough to get by, but she excels in Street-Smarts more then Book-Smarts Self-Esteem: Slightly Above Average, She knows she's a Roller Disco Superstar and no one can even touch her skill, but she doesn't put herself above anyone in anything else (she can brag about one thing as a treat, otherwise she'd feel like an asshole) Hobbies: Roller Skating, Dancing, Singing, Thinking Up/Drawing new outfit designs and looks, Drinking, She'd try anything to keep her mind busy Skills/Talents: Autonomy, Ambition, Roller Skating, Creativity, Singing, Good at Standing-Up for Herself Loves: A good drink, Roller Disco, Up-Beat Tunes, Trying New things Phobias/Fears: Getting trapped in the same place forever, Conformity, Never Ending Boredom, Loosing her Reputation at the Rink, Lucya freaks her out a little (it's all due to vibes) Angered By: People who underestimate her, Short jokes by other people (unless they're really funny or she's the one saying them) Pet Peeves: Being the last person to know about something, Uncleanliness, Unreasonable people Obsessed With: Roller Disco, doing anything to stave off boredom really Bad habits: Talking over people (usually she just doesn't realize it), her priorities are kinda scewed (usually Roller skating takes up her highest priority), not the most concerned with safety, a bit of an Adrenaline Junkie Desires: True Freedom, Finding out who she is through exploring and trying different things, something or someone stable that she can rely one that isn't just Roller Disco Flaws: If she had to choose between Roller Disco or Saving someone's life, she'd choose Roller Disco. Wanders around aimlessly a lot, kinda of an outsider (still accepted by the group, but she doesn't feel like she quite fits in) Secrets: Second most likely to kill someone and get away with it. Feels like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders, and can't share that burden with anyone. Her disdain for her life back home. Not the biggest Disco Music fan. Regrets: That she couldn't ”fix“ her family, and instead kinda just, up and left them. Not giving it her all in school, despite her decent grades, she feels like she could, no should, do better. Accomplishments: She has her picture framed at the Roller Rink, and a few trophies from some of the past Roller Disco competitions, has had some request to design some outfits and got paid for it (other Roller Disco Fanatics probably) Languages Known: Fluent in Gaelic and English, and has picked up on Swedish (from being BeeDee's Roommate) and some Afrikaans slang (from hanging out with Shelby)

(Things are subject to change the more I get things fine tuned, I've also kept some things secret for the time being. - Crow <3)

Bonus! Basic Profile Sheet, for funsies! X

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

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

Chapter 11: "Fire & Water"

Things are getting significantly darker, but I swear there is a happy ending to all of this. Y'all know me 😂

--//--

JINLINTAI

As logic would dictate, Jin Guangyao begins at the beginning.

The first person responsible for the cruelties of Jin Guangyao’s life is, naturally, the father who sired him. No matter what had come after, no matter the choices of every other person in his life, the first sin that Jin Guangyao had ‘committed’ was being born the bastard son of Jin Guangshan, thereby sealing his fate before he’d even taken his first full breath to cry.

Jin Guangyao carefully dips a long, glinting blade into the concoction of refined upas tree sap he’d spent the night brewing and lays it aside well away from where he’s actively working to let it dry. He dips two others after it in quick succession, and a final fourth, just to be safe. While they dry enough to be sheathed, Jin Guangyao tidies up after his evening’s activities, diluting the rest of the poison with the water from boiling the bark of the same tree before dumping it down a rust-stained drain in the floor. By the time it reaches the river it’ll be perfectly harmless and untraceable, not that he thinks anyone will really look too hard into what could have killed Jinlintai’s masters. Whoever’s left standing in the aftermath will be too busy fighting each other for dominance in the days before Jin Zixuan returns to take his rightful place as the head of their operations, there won’t be time (or, he’d wager, the desire) for any kind of thorough investigation.

Still, Jin Guangyao hadn’t gotten where he is today by being sloppy.

When the knives have dried he sheathes them and straps them on with the confidence he’s had to fight his entire life to develop, and as dawn is just beginning to turn from deep blue-black into the hazy blue-gray of true morning he slips out of his own rooms, now armed and properly dressed, to return to his prowling.

For all the fuss he’d made about needing 48 hours to clean up Jin Guangyao’s ‘mess’, there’s no way Jin Guangshan himself has condescended enough to see it done personally. It’s really such a shame that Jin Guangshan’s ambition is so curtailed by clutching at his own shortsighted greed in one hand and laziness in the other. Jin Guangyao’s talents have long outstripped his miserable father’s, but then he supposes his filial piety has been something of a shackle around his neck for even longer than he’s known his father, so it’s not much of a surprise to find he’s finally outgrown him now that he’s decided to remove the weight of it.

Jin Guangyao walks through Jinlintai with his head held high and finds the time to send a quick, silent prayer to Meng Shi, an apology for failing as her son to carry out her dying wish — the only failure he feels he’s truly committed in this life. He’d nearly made it at least; he’d found his father and earned his way into living in his house, to being a valuable asset to him, to be considered (however unwillingly) part of the family. 

He just can’t do this for the rest of his life.

Perhaps her spirit would rest easier if he gifts her Jin Guangshan’s head on a platter. It’s not the most orthodox of offerings, but Meng Shi had always been an understanding mother. Maybe she’d understand that it’s the best he can do and forgive him for everything he isn’t.

Jin Guangyao muses on the question as he dodges guards sleepily walking their rotations almost as easily as breathing; after all, he’s the one who organized their shifts and their routes back when he’d first arrived. Madam Jin’s insistence that he do nothing save the work of a glorified secretary for his first few months in Jinlintai is paying dividends now, and he hopes she realizes her mistakes when it’s her turn for a visit.

He arrives at his first destination without trouble and is disgusted but unsurprised to find that he doesn’t even have to work in order to gain entry to his father’s lavish suite.

Jin Guangshan has long been infamous for his arrogance — in his business dealings, in his running of Jinlintai, in any and every way possible. Jin Guangyao, as his father’s unwanted right hand, has naturally seen that trait at play far more than anyone should have to witness, but never has it been clearer than this moment.

Jinlintai is a nest of ruthless, backstabbing snakes, and yet Jin Guangshan sleeps entirely unprotected. He doesn’t even share his quarters with his knife-happy wife, too fond of bringing prostitutes into his bed for her to stomach sharing a private space with her husband. Not that Jin Guangyao blames her, of course, though he still thinks it’s phenomenally stupid that neither of them seem to realize or care that this is a major gap in Jin Guangshan’s defenses.

The door isn’t even locked. Truly, Jin Guangshan is practically asking for someone, anyone at all, to slip into his room with the lightening shadows that herald dawn and slit his throat with a knife that’ll burn its way through his entire body before he’s done gurgling on his own blood. Jin Guangyao is careful not to touch the wetted blade glinting in his hand as he sits beside his father’s hip and ignores the man’s scrabbling at his own bloodied throat, his frantic wet gasps, the graceless thrashing of his limbs as the panic of drowning and the agony of the poison hit him nearly simultaneously.

He can see his own eyes reflected in the shining silver blade, black smudges in the dark dawn gray. He tilts his head until the splash of blood darkening the edge hides his eyes from sight, and only then does he turn to meet his father’s betrayed glare as he gasps through his final death throes and he thinks maybe he feels something like relief, though mostly he’s…numb.

This is not what he’d been raised to do.

Jin Guangshan thrashes in his bloodied sheets and Jin Guangyao remembers how many times his mother had told him, wistfully, sometimes with tears in her eyes, that one day his father would come back to Yunping and fulfill the promise he’d made to her. She’d told him that when he did come Jin Guangyao would need to be ready, to be the perfect son who would fit into his world.

Well. He’d become that, at least, though Meng Shi had never really known what world exactly it was her son would need to insinuate himself into. (He thinks, sometimes, that had she known the full truth she would have never asked Jin Guangyao to do this, but she hadn’t known and there’s nothing he can do to change that, so here he is.)

In his defense, he had become useful to his father as she’d instructed, he just can’t claim that he was very filial — not anymore. Not lately. Not when the tableau currently reaching its conclusion next to him is the fulfillment of far too many fantasies he’s entertained too many times to remember over the last few years.

Long gone are his desires to please his father, to be the perfect addition to his precious family business, to be useful to the man who abuses him at every turn, as his mother had wished for him to be.

His father has underestimated Jin Guangyao’s willingness to continue to roll over and show his belly. In his arrogance he’s forgotten that Jin Guangyao longs to survive more than he desires anything else, and with that no longer feasible under his father’s thumb then it’s Jin Guangshan who has to go, not Jin Guangyao.

Jin Guangyao sets the knife down beside Jin Guangshan’s crimson pillow and stands, dusting himself off and twitching his blood-spattered shirt straight as a pin before he leaves in search of his next target.

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

SUIBIAN - SOMEWHERE ON THE YILING RIVER

Lan Xichen knows that this is the height of foolishness, even without Lan Qiren’s parting remark to that effect still bouncing around his head. They know that Nie Mingjue has been compromised, it only stands to reason that Jin Guangyao has been as well. The sensible thing to do would be to leave them both to their fates, pawns that must be sacrificed to protect something far more important.

The problem is, Lan Xichen has never been very good at separating emotion and empathy from the necessary work that they do, which is why, prior to the Wens’ destruction of Cloud Recesses, he’d been quite content to keep himself at home and hone his abilities in ways that didn’t directly translate to people dying at his hands. In the normal course of things, it had been too difficult for him to forget that his targets didn’t exist in a vacuum; to put it out of his mind that someone, somewhere would miss them when they were gone, even the seediest and most miserable person he could imagine.

Wen Ruohan had forced him to change for the worse, as he had so many other people. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t do it with the torments in his Fire Palace designed to break the strongest of men, to make them forget who they are and what they should be in the service of what he needs instead — he’s a changed man and there’s no going back to what was. Lan Xichen has had to become hardened like his uncle has always warned him he must, though thankfully he (and Lan Wangji, who somehow managed to learn that lesson much more easily in spite of his rigid sense of morality) have both been too kind, or maybe simply too reticent, to tell him ‘I told you so’.

War changes a man, that much is true, and he accepted it — but it can’t change him in his very core, at least not in Lan Xichen’s case. He knows, logically, that the safest thing to do is leave his erstwhile partner-targets to their unfortunate fates and focus their energy on figuring out where things went wrong from within their own organization.

He also knows, logically, that his heart will never allow him to be so callous.

The speedboat he’d borrowed from the Jiangs’ fleet flies up the river at a clip that cools his cheeks and stings his eyes until he has to swipe tears away from the outer corners, and still he forges on as fast as he can against the current until the engine is whining and the water froths white in his wake long after he’s already gone.

In an ideal world (well, more ideal than the current situation), he would be able to force himself not to worry about Nie Mingjue for the time it takes to reach Jin Guangyao; he would feel unconflicted about who he chooses to fly to as fast as modern machinery can carry him; he wouldn’t concern himself if he’s betraying one to save the other and, worst of all, if his choice may mean that Nie Mingjue dies when he could have been saved had Lan Xichen only chosen to go to him first instead.

When Wen Qing’s distress message had come through and a course of action had needed to be decided upon, he’d said to Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji, “Wen Ruohan made Mingjue into what he is, he won’t be in a hurry to dispose of him,” with more confidence than he felt. “Jin Guangshan knows only how A-Yao’s competence suits him and his wants, he doesn’t understand how deadly his own son can be if pressed, nor that he is the one pressing him. We already know Mingjue has been captured and that Wen Ruohan will want to sharpen his favorite blade personally, but A-Yao has likely been overlooked and will not be closely monitored. He is the safer choice to stage a rescue for.”

His argument was logical and straightforward, and as such it was a solid reassurance that had given his family some peace of mind as he’d hurried away into unknown danger. But the logic of it sits like lead in his stomach, and every second he spends running further from Nie Mingjue is one he spends wondering if his not-quite-but-sort-of-fiancé is even still alive to hope for rescue or not.

Yet he knows that if he’d rushed to Nie Mingjue instead he would worry just as much for Jin Guangyao, constantly under threat and underestimated, a convenient target to be eliminated by the reckoning of everyone in Jinlintai. Even with Luo Qingyang in place to help him should the need arise, that’s no guarantee that she’ll actually be able to do so in time, considering she has her own cover to keep and should continue to do so even after the change in leadership in Lanling that Wei Wuxian is ultimately aiming for. He can’t truly count on her to save Jin Guangyao should he get into trouble, but he doesn’t even know if, after what he’s done, his help would be wanted —

Guilt, he decides, will just have to be his constant companion until he’s reunited with both of the men he’s developed feelings for far faster than (almost) anyone could have anticipated.

(“I realize this is all a bit pot-kettle-black and all, but it would probably be best if you didn’t sleep with them, Lan-da-ge,” Wei Wuxian had said to him when he’d come to East Yunping to give him his assignment. Like a fool, Lan Xichen had replied, with utmost confidence, “That won’t be a problem.” And while of course he hasn’t, not in the way his brother-in-law had meant it, there’s no denying that the feelings — the desires — are very much there.)

It’s a relief to finally be forced to set such distressing thoughts aside in favor of the undeniable present when the glittering spires atop the hulking mass of Koi Tower loom out of the blue-black predawn, glittering with sporadic clusters of lights and the occasional shadow of sentries making their rounds amongst the flared roofs and the layers of balconies and open-air catwalks as he drags the boat down to a crawl and drifts near-silently upriver, eyes trained on his goal nearly to the exclusion of all else.

“Hey.”

Lan Xichen is far too disciplined to yelp, but when he turns his startled gaze on Jiang Wanyin, just barely visible in the wan light, his friend has already raised his hands in surrender, palms out at shoulder height.

“What are you doing here? What’s wrong?” He drops his hands when he can see that Lan Xichen has recognized him and begins preparing to moor their boats together half-hidden in the reeds.

“There’s a rat in Yiling, Mingjue has been captured. I came to..Well. I was worried about A-Yao, and we’d had no word,” he reports as he pulls his craft alongside Jiang Wanyin’s, catching the rope the other man tosses to him to tie their prows together for a quick anchor.

“I haven’t heard anything since he went in, not even a shout,” Jiang Wanyin replies, looking more troubled than his usual perpetual frown makes him seem. “His cousin decked him when he got up there and had some guards drag him inside, but we’d planned for that. Mianmian also hasn’t given a signal that things have gone to shit.”

Lan Xichen knows that it’s as likely as not that things are going according to plan, but it’s growing more and more difficult to cling to his logic and rationality when he must face the very real possibility of losing both Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao in one night, before he’s even gotten a chance to properly apologize for deceiving them.

“You said Chifeng-Zun has been compromised?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s A-Qing?”

“Uninjured and on her way to Yiling as we speak, perhaps even already there. She’s safe.”

Jiang Wanyin exhales sharply with a nod, the only moment of visible relief he allows before he turns on his heel to look up at Jinlintai, assessing.

“I’m guessing you’re going in there.”

“Yes,” Lan Xichen agrees; there’s no point in lying, even if he were willing to do so.

“Do you want backup?”

“Did you bring Zidian?”

Jiang Wanyin snorts and ducks down to fish his whip out from the footwell beneath the wheel. He cracks it once out over the water to test its snap, startling a few waterbirds into flight from the marshy reeds a little further down on the banks. Lan Xichen darts a glance up at the ink-smudge figures walking their rounds, but none of the guards seem to have taken notice of the noise.

“Ready when you are.”

That seems to be something of an understatement when taking into consideration the 7-foot bullwhip Jiang Wanyin is currently coiling back up between his hands with the ease of years of training with his late mother’s signature weapon, but Lan Xichen lets it pass without comment. After all, he’s far more interested in finding Jin Guangyao as soon as physically possible, and so he simply jumps down into the ankle-deep water they’re moored in and sloshes the few yards to shore, Jiang Wanyin cursing and grumbling behind him about his nice shoes squelching in the mud as he follows.

His grumbling fades into silence as they climb the hill together, wary of putting a foot wrong or rustling too loudly through the underbrush and drawing unwanted attention to their movement as they move closer to the range of the sentries.

“You’re late. Or maybe right on time, depending on what you’re here to see,” a voice says out of the shadows just as they’re approaching a gap in the fence that surrounds the nearest section of the multi-tower complex. For the second time tonight Lan Xichen nearly jumps out of his skin and is saved from showing it only by his many years spent comporting himself with all the dignity of a Lan.

“Mianmian if you’re the rat I have no problem breaking your legs,” Jiang Wanyin growls at Luo Qingyang when she comes melting out of the shadows, dressed in her Wei black-and-reds rather than the Jin uniform she should be sporting.

“I’m only a rat if I’m allowed to jump ship, Jiang-gongzi,” she says with a little shudder and a glare over her shoulder up at the Tower. “This place is about to boil over like a hornets’ nest and I don’t want to be here when it happens if it’s all the same to you.”

“What do you mean? Where’s A-Yao?” Lan Xichen asks, fear and impatience itching under his skin. In spite of all of his comportment lessons as a boy he can’t help but fidget restlessly with the need to do something now that he’s here and in a position to help if someone would only point him in the right direction.

“Should be finishing up any minute. He’d already gotten Guangshan and the Madam when I checked about half an hour ago, should just be Zixun left to take care of. I was just about to go knock a few heads together so he can make a clean getaway when he’s done.”

“I’ll help with that, Xichen you wait for him out here,” Jiang Wanyin orders, and just like that Luo Qingyang hurries off with Jiang Wanyin in tow, the pair of them melting into the deep shadows between the buildings as the east begins to brighten with true dawn.

Lan Xichen waits a few tense minutes until he hears muffled grunts and the quiet thud of bodies hitting the nearest walkways overhead before he emerges from his hiding spot to loop around the main tower and begin climbing the stairs to the central courtyard. He keeps an ear out for any alarms or shouting to indicate that he’s been spotted, but none come.

The morning is strangely silent as he climbs, without even so much as a bird call to interrupt the low burbling of the sluggish river below. Lan Xichen measures his breaths with his steady tread up the stairs that feel never-ending, and when he finally reaches the landing he turns in a slow circle to survey what he can see of Lanling from such a lofty vantage point.

It’s got nothing on the views of mist-shrouded peaks from his old home in Cloud Recesses — or on Yiling sprawling out from the base of the mountain that contains the Burial Mounds — but then again Koi Tower only sits on a foothill of the range that rolls through Yiling before it dips again into the flat marshes of Yunmeng. Still, the view is beautiful in its own way as the sun rises over the plains below and gilds everything gold amongst the pale blue morning mists.

Lan Xichen turns back around to face Koi Tower at a signal deeper than conscious thought — the scuff of a shoe, a sharp intake of breath, registered and reacted to before his mind has fully caught up with what it could mean.

Jin Guangyao stands still as a statue at the end of a path that leads around the building into the gardens, and Lan Xichen worries for the space of a heartbeat that the blood spattered across his neck and face is his.

“A-Yao–” he chokes and steps towards him only to stop short when Jin Guangyao backs away from him, a graceless sort of stumbling half-step. Upon closer inspection it’s clear that there’s no way the blood is his when his skin beneath it is otherwise unblemished, but in the next moment Lan Xichen realizes that’s the least of his worries. Jin Guangyao’s eyes are a little wild, open so wide that Lan Xichen can see the whites all the way around, and Lan Xichen fears that to do this, to do as he’s been asked and kill the family he’d pledged his life to, he may have had to go somewhere Lan Xichen can’t follow.

He raises his empty hands in a clear sign of surrender, but it doesn’t stop Jin Guangyao staring at him like he’s seen a ghost. Lan Xichen can be patient though, now that he’s in sight, and so he stands as still as Jin Guangyao is and he waits.

Waits.

“Xichen-ge?” Jin Guangyao finally asks, a hesitant croak that Lan Xichen would very much like to never hear again.

“I’m here,” he soothes and sees some sense return to Jin Guangyao’s gaze, though he remains wary. Lan Xichen can’t fault him for that. “I was worried about you.”

Jin Guangyao blinks and, after a moment of visible dithering, steps closer with what looks like conscious effort. Lan Xichen flicks an anxious gaze over every part of him that he can see but besides looking a bit pale and holding that sort of nervous, cornered prey-like energy, he seems fine. (As fine as one can be under the circumstances, at least.)

There’s no polite or tasteful way for Lan Xichen to ask if Jin Guangyao has succeeded in murdering those of his family he was sent to eliminate, but he supposes that the evidence really speaks for itself. 

“Mingjue’s in trouble,” he says instead, and Jin Guangyao’s gaze sharpens further, his eyes narrowing as they dart northward for a moment, though of course there’s nothing to see from here.

“What happened?”

“He and Wen Qing were betrayed, we do not yet know by whom. She has returned to Yiling, but we’ve lost all contact with him. We believe it likely that Wen Ruohan will be attempting to re-indoctrinate him if he has not already killed him.”

“Da-ge is too valuable to kill,” Jin Guangyao dismisses, like to think otherwise is nothing but foolishness. Lan Xichen finds himself soothed by the fact that their instincts in this are the same. “Men like Wen Ruohan don’t cast aside a useful tool like him so easily, he’s still alive. He has to be, we just have to go get him.”

Lan Xichen breathes a silent sigh of relief; he still doesn’t know if Jin Guangyao will ever forgive him for what he did, but if nothing else they can at least work together to rescue Nie Mingjue, can’t they?

Still, even if they can it wouldn’t be right to do so without at least trying to make amends. “A-Yao…I’m so sorry.”

Jin Guangyao blinks and startles ever so slightly, little more than a curious tilt of his head, the movement too sharp to look entirely natural.

“Oh?”

“I never meant to hurt you.”

Lan Xichen feels his breath catch in his chest when Jin Guangyao’s expression cracks, just for a moment, into something…tender. It’s gone between one blink and the next, but even before he speaks it’s enough for Lan Xichen to know he’s been forgiven.

“I would have done the same, in your position. And…I understand. We all do what we have to.”

It’s a curious feeling, to be forgiven so easily by a man he knows trusts no one. It’s tempting to ask if that’s changed, if perhaps he might have earned the privilege of Jin Guangyao’s trust despite his own choices — but every minute they spend here is a minute they are not helping Nie Mingjue, and now that Jin Guangyao’s success is certain the urge to fly north is an inescapable need thrumming under his skin.

“Thank you, A-Yao.”

Against all odds and expectations, Jin Guangyao smiles, small but genuine with the sweetest hint of the dimples in his cheeks. 

“We should leave for Qishan,” he finally says after a few moments with another worried glance northward. “Da-ge is useful to Wen Ruohan but if he’s been caught red-handed attempting to kill him then he’ll have tipped his hand and proven he’s not nearly as obedient as Wen Ruohan thinks him to be. He’ll have pulled out all the stops to try to break Mingjue again.”

Suddenly feeling inadequate, Lan Xichen offers, “I have a Jiang speedboat.” It won’t be enough to get them as far north as they need, and sailing back to Yiling just to find other transport would be an unbearable delay. Thankfully, Jin Guangyao shakes his head immediately and gestures back in the direction he’d come, deeper into the complex.

“We’ll take a jet from here straight to Qishan, I just prepared one to fly to Yiling in case Jiang Wanyin was forced to return on his own without me but there’s more than enough fuel to get us all the way to Nightless City.”

“Flying? I can help with that!” Luo Qingyang calls; Lan Xichen turns to find her and Jiang Wanyin both running across the courtyard that connects the main complex to the buildings to the west with the particular haste of the closely pursued. “Time to go!”

“What have you done?” Lan Xichen asks, startled by the grim determination on Jiang Wanyin’s face and the tight-lipped worry on Luo Qingyang’s as they come to a stop that nearly vibrates with tension.

“Oh, you know, just stole some stuff, did some extra damage…Let’s talk about it in the air,” Luo Qingyang smiles, eyes wide, just as something explodes rather spectacularly from the direction they’d come running from, and finally there comes what Lan Xichen has been expecting since he’d arrived — shouting and the pounding of boots running to the source of the disturbance and, consequently, them.

“I’ll get the boats back to Yiling, Mianmian will fly you to Qishan,” Jiang Wanyin says just before they part ways, him racing headlong down the stairs towards the river and Lan Xichen following his other two companions on autopilot, his hand suddenly caught in Jin Guangyao’s as the man tows him along through the unfamiliar maze of Jinlintai.

“You certainly know how to make an exit, Miss Luo,” Lan Xichen shouts as they run amongst the chasing patter of erratic gunfire and he smiles a little when she shoots him another manic grin over her shoulder.

“Only when I hate somewhere as much as here!” she shouts over the boom of another explosion behind them — there’s no time to look and see where. “No offense, Jin-er-gongzi.”

“None taken, believe me,” Jin Guangyao replies, gentlemanly and sardonic at the same time.

They make it to the Jin hangar before the guards can catch up to them and, as promised, find the hangar doors thrown wide open and one of Jin Guangshan’s personal jets ready and waiting to peel out onto the runway. They race up the stairs to the door and Lan Xichen, boarding last, kicks the rickety staircase away hard enough that it rolls a few feet before it tips over, useless, as Luo Qingyang throws herself into the cockpit, the engines roaring to life instantly under her hands. Lan Xichen drags the door shut and joins her to assist in their getaway, though all she does is hand him a thick folder embossed with the Jin insignia and a computer disk in a soft blue plastic case to free her hands for take-off.

Luo Qingyang wastes no time getting them into the air just as a handful of Jins come skidding into the hangar to open fire at them, bullets glancing harmlessly off the body of the plane as they jet past.

Luo Qingyang is more than confident enough in the pilot’s seat that once they’re safely in the air Lan Xichen slips out of the cockpit to tuck the folder and the disk safely between the wine cooler and the wall of the galley on his way to join Jin Guangyao staring blankly out the window at the clouds racing by.

This jet is significantly more comfortable than the fighters they’d sent Wen Qing and Nie Mingjue to Qishan in, and as Lan Xichen settles into the indulgent comfort of a buttery leather seat across from Jin Guangyao he takes the time, finally, to look him over to his heart’s content and reassure himself that he’s truly uninjured, that he’s alive, and, most importantly, finally free of his father’s particularly cruel hatred.

Still, hale and hearty as he may be, there’s blood smearing on his cream-colored seat, and there’s finally time to do something about it. Without a word Lan Xichen leans back far enough to snag a cloth napkin and a bottle of club soda from the galley to wet it with and, thus armed, slides to his knees between their seats to start carefully cleaning someone else’s blood away from Jin Guangyao’s pale throat.

Jin Guangyao jerks a little, startled, but otherwise stays still to let Lan Xichen tend to him, nearly a mirror of when he’d allowed Lan Xichen to bandage the wound he’d received at the Jiangs’ warehouse. It feels as if they’ve lived an entire lifetime in the day that’s passed between then and now, and a glance at Jin Guangyao’s eyes hints that he may be thinking along similar lines. Certainly that night his eyes had held the same guarded vulnerability, the apparent disbelief that anyone would want to take care of him in this way, but also the desire to find out if he can have it anyway.

“You did well, A-Yao.” Lan Xichen folds the napkin to a fresh corner with which to begin cleaning some specks of blood from his cheek, gently, gently to avoid pressing too hard against a mottled bruise blooming across his jaw.

“You don’t know that.”

Lan Xichen hums, gentle disagreement, as he turns Jin Guangyao’s head an inch or two for easier access with a featherlight fingertip under his chin.

“I do, because I know that A-Yao always does his best, and that it is always significantly better than anyone else’s best could hope to be.”

Jin Guangyao visibly swallows and turns his head again to return to staring out the window with a sort of misty-eyed, focused intensity, lips pursed around whatever it is he clearly doesn’t want to say. Lan Xichen allows it, of course, and continues his careful cleaning until his hands are stained pink, there’s not a spot of white left on the napkin, and Jin Guangyao is biting his bottom lip hard enough that it’s turned pale under the sharp press of teeth.

“I have an idea for rescuing da-ge, but I don’t think he’d like it,” Jin Guangyao says when Lan Xichen stands to return the soiled napkin to the galley. 

“His survival is paramount, his comfort with the method secondary,” Lan Xichen replies, though something anxious twinges low in his belly. He squashes it with effort and a reminder to himself that no matter what else happens, he would trust Jin Guangyao with not only his own life, but the lives of anyone and everyone he cares about as well. He’d said as much to Lan Wangji and he’d meant it.

Jin Guangyao is silent for long enough that Lan Xichen finishes cleaning up and returns to his seat to face his partner, now bearing little evidence of his night’s activities save for the dark circles under his eyes and the patches of deeper black on his clothing where blood has soaked through and dried into the fabric. When he settles, Jin Guangyao glances at him out of the corner of his eye, nervous and not even bothering to hide it.

“If he hates me when we’re through, whose side will you take?”

The question aches to even consider. Lan Xichen finds himself uncomfortable with the lack of a clear answer, his own conundrum from a mere hour ago turned around again and repeated before he could solve it once himself. In the end, though, there’s really only one answer that Lan Xichen is capable of giving no matter how difficult it may be to put in practice, should it become necessary.

“I would find a way to choose you both. Anything else is untenable.”

Jin Guangyao hides a yawn delicately behind one wrist and shoots Lan Xichen an apologetic glance (that is, of course, completely unnecessary).

“How long to Qishan, Miss Luo?” Jin Guangyao calls towards the cockpit.

“Hours yet, Jin-er-gongzi! Midday maybe, could be later if the wind in the mountains doesn’t favor us,” she shouts back over the thrum of the engines.

“Get some rest, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen coaxes. “I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

It’s remarkably reassuring when, with no further prodding, Jin Guangyao simply nods and takes his words — his comfort — at face value. He turns to curl into a little ball on his seat and promptly falls asleep like that, facing the rising sun and the clouds shrouding the ground from view, looking more peaceful than Lan Xichen has seen him yet.

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

SOMEWHERE

There are voices nearby.

Nie Mingjue notices this through the murky sludge of his thoughts and promptly forgets it again until the next murmur snags his wandering attention, though there’s no way of knowing how long that actually takes.

He thinks, as he slowly begins to surface from..wherever, that something somewhere might have gotten a little fucked up. He’d followed Wen Qing into the tunnels that connect the hangar to Nightless City, that much he remembers. Long, unbroken walls of steel and concrete, flickering bulbs stretching for miles in both directions, nothing else but the sound of his boots, his breathing, the soft clatter of his guns in their holsters.

And then, he winces as the memory slams into him like a freight train —

Shouting.

Bullets flying close enough to whizz past his ears before shattering the concrete mere inches behind his head.

The thudding of dozens of boots on concrete, the lights dropping red with the whooping of sirens.

Fists banging on steel doors that won’t open and his feet pounding, pounding, pounding, running down hallways that seem to have no end. An endless maze under a mountain, burning red red red, trapping him, dragging him back under —

He’s been here before. His mind slides sluggishly between half-remembered escapes, running, running, running, and falling,

falling,

falling—

“He’s awake.”

The words come, clear as a bell. Nie Mingjue clutches them, a lifeline thrown to him in the whirling, nauseating rush of drugged memory threatening to pull him under and keep him there, caught in the rapids until he drowns in them.

A sharp crack across his cheek snaps him out of it with a gasp that shudders in his aching chest. He doesn’t dare to look down to try to remember the cause of the aching — in his periphery he can see that he’s been stripped naked from the waist up with dark bruises blooming under his skin already, and he highly doubts that his weapons have been left anywhere even remotely accessible.

Of course they haven’t been. Now that he’s coming around towards lucidity he wonders how he ever thought coming here, now, would land him anywhere else. 

This is, after all, Wen Ruohan’s Fire Palace, and the only one allowed tools with which to inflict injury are Wen Ruohan and his “doctors”.

Nie Mingjue breathes, sucking in lungfuls of iron-thick air and choking on the stench of rotting blood that permeates the walls, the floor. He always leaves here smelling like it, the tang of it in his hair and in his nose for days after he’s kicked the brown dust of it off his feet.

“Hold him.”

Nie Mingjue fights on instinct against the hands that clench around his wrists but before he can do anything more than snarl and flinch they’re not hands, they’re straps of leather biting into his flesh and crushing his bones, and his thrashing does nothing at all to stop the glint of a silver needle disappearing into his neck. 

Within a few too-quick heartbeats his body is burning, flames roaring through him in time with his rabbiting pulse. He’s lost in it again, unable to think beyond the flames licking under his skin and burning away every piece of him that dares to exist under Wen Ruohan’s tyranny.

It fades after a brief eternity, and when sense returns Nie Mingjue finds himself straining against his restraints hard enough to bruise, ankles and wrists aching in the dull way of too-tight manacles, and fighting hard for each breath that feels like fine shards of glass in his throat.

“Again.”

He barely has time to mumble a furious, “No!” before there’s another pinch in his neck, another wave of unbearable fire, as inescapable as it has been for nearly all of his life.

For a while, he’s sure he’s never known anything but this at all.

There’s no way of knowing how much time has passed since the first injection when he regains control of himself again, but the pain radiating through every nerve in his body has at least burned away the last of his confused lethargy and left him horribly clear-headed, everything sharp-edged and gleaming with the aura of a migraine he’s too overwhelmed to truly feel like he should.

His restraints loosen enough for him to be sat up by rough hands under his shoulders, and he’s unsurprised to find himself face to face with Wen Ruohan — the pair of them have sat here, in these exact places, far too many times for their old song and dance to change now.

“Mingjue, Mingjue,” Wen Ruohan chides in Nie Mingjue’s mother tongue – an insult from that mouth, here like this. “How many times must I remind you of your place in this world, hm? Your stubbornness will soon outstrip your usefulness to me; you’re going to force my hand and there will be no one to blame but yourself.”

Nie Mingjue takes great pleasure in clearing his mouth of the blood from his swollen, bitten tongue by spitting it right into Wen Ruohan’s eyes. He takes even more pleasure in having goaded Wen Ruohan into swearing as he swipes the back of his hand across his face — almost enough to make the consequences worth it.

Almost.

“Childish. Again.”

Nie Mingjue’s voice cracks around his shredding vocal cords as he screams loudly enough that it reverberates off the dingy tile on all sides, echoing back to him even through the roaring inferno of his heartbeat.

Time moves strangely, sluggish fits and starts that limp towards lucidity and yet somehow eternities pass in minutes, everything about Wen Ruohan just the same as it was before whenever he’s able to open his eyes again, even if something else has changed. Doctors in their white and red coats come and go, slipping through his fingers like minnows following a current he can only attempt to stand against. Wen Ruohan sits sneering at him, ordering unseen hands to torment him, and Nie Mingjue uses every remaining ounce of his unbroken will to not lose himself in it completely.

When he resurfaces enough for conversation he’s once again flat on his back, a leather band tight across his forehead and his manacles cinched as tight as before to pin him to the steel table more suited to dissection than the repose of anyone living.

“He’s awake.”

Nie Mingjue closes his eyes against the halogen glare of the lights overhead and can do nothing to stop the tears born of exhaustion and frustration that leak from the corners of his eyes to run down his temples into his hair. (Sometimes he thinks that the worst thing he can be in this life is awake.)

Quite as if their conversation had only paused for seconds (though Nie Mingjue is…reasonably sure they’ve been at this for at least a day or two, perhaps more), Wen Ruohan tells him, “You’ve been betrayed, Mingjue.” He says it with an audible air of indolence like he’s lounging back in his chair, a bored emperor sitting in his throne hoping torture might make his life a little more interesting. “I would usually assume that I wouldn’t need to tell you by whom, but it seems in this instance your foolish desires have clouded your judgment so thoroughly you can’t see the snake twining around your own ankles.”

Nie Mingjue breathes through the fury searing its way through his abused veins and glares at the ceiling despite the blinding light overhead. Of course Wen Ruohan believes Nie Mingjue has been betrayed — wasn’t that the whole point of Lan Xichen’s plot to deliver them to the Yiling Laozu? His plan hinges on Wen Ruohan believing that Nie Mingjue has failed him! He reminds himself that this is precisely what they’d intended, that this must be his punishment for failing rather than for betraying Wen Ruohan and returning to beard him in his own den which is the only explanation as to why he’s still alive in this fucking hellhole—

Unless Wen Qing lied to them all and led him straight to a trap she was perfectly positioned to set—

Or—

“Xiandu,” a smooth, mellow voice says and as hotly as he’d burned a moment ago Nie Mingjue feels his blood turn to ice in the next.

He stares up into the light overhead until he can see the filaments of the bulb, the glare of it filling his vision and leaving dark afterimages behind his eyes that he can’t blink away. The table he’s strapped to is folded in half with a screech of rusted metal, his head still secured in place so that he’s forced to sit up and face Wen Ruohan whether he wants to — is able to — or not.

His vision swims with pain, fatigue; the dark blotches the light had left behind hide the owner of the second voice for a long moment, but even without seeing his face, and even considering the relatively brief time their paths have aligned, Nie Mingjue would know him anywhere.

“Oh, you really weren’t expecting this at all, were you?” Wen Ruohan sneers. Nie Mingjue works to keep his breathing even while his vision clears against his will, and when he can see again he meets wide, dark eyes in a pale sweetheart face, a cruel smile he’s never seen before dimpling Jin Guangyao’s cheeks.

“He’s far too shortsighted for someone of your intelligence, Xiandu,” Jin Guangyao says smoothly, dispassionate and looking down his nose at Nie Mingjue in the particularly haughty way of the Jin. “Is such a blunt tool really worth the effort of sharpening?”

Wen Ruohan chuckles and it makes Nie Mingjue’s skin crawl, the easy back and forth, the way Jin Guangyao’s expressive eyes are full of disdain, the way Wen Ruohan is stroking Jin Guangyao’s hand laid on the arm of his chair with just his fingertips, somehow more salacious and proprietary than outright groping him would be.

“Perhaps not,” Wen Ruohan muses. “Perhaps his usefulness lies in entertainment, particularly if your idiotic father truly intends to give you to me.”

Jin Guangyao smiles again, dimpling and sweet as he sidles closer to Wen Ruohan. “My father was eager to be rid of me and I of him. My loyalty lies here.”

Nie Mingjue jerks once in his restraints, unable to stop the urge to at least make an attempt to get free and, if he’s lucky, loop his hands around Jin Guangyao’s skinny throat to squeeze the miserable life out of him.

But of course Nie Mingjue can never hope for luck.

Being betrayed by Lan Xichen when they’d thought Wei Wuxian to be their enemy had hurt, but somehow this is worse. He’d worried about Jin Guangyao, done what he could to comfort him, felt some small hint of his relief when his younger brother had been unexpectedly returned to him safe and sound. He’d been given an easy escape but he’d stayed with Jin Guangyao when his survival was uncertain, simply because he couldn’t stomach the thought of leaving him to face his fate alone.

Nie Mingjue had trusted him, against all the odds.

Jin Guangyao clucks his tongue in disapproval and steps away from Wen Ruohan’s side to approach Nie Mingjue and he jerks again, leather creaking and metal rattling as he fights to keep his eyes trained on the target his hands ache to crush.

When Jin Guangyao is close enough to touch, he strokes the back of his knuckle down the curve of Nie Mingjue’s cheek, and though Nie Mingjue tries he can’t even turn his head enough to attempt to bite the offending finger off at the joint.

“Mingjue,” Jin Guangyao chides, warm and patronizing, “has Xiandu finally succeeded in breaking your mind? You’re little better than a rabid dog like this. Perhaps I should let you follow in your father’s footsteps and simply put you out of your misery.”

Wen Ruohan chuckles with what sounds like genuine amusement, twisted as he is, and Nie Mingjue bares his teeth in a wordless snarl.

“Patience xiao-Jin, don’t you want to make it hurt?”

“Can he even feel pain if his mind’s too broken to string two thoughts together?” Jin Guangyao muses, a philosophical question that makes Nie Mingjue’s blood boil, enough that he finally finds the right muscles to spit blood at Jin Guangyao’s feet.

“This is your doing?” he snarls, clumsy on the bite-swollen tip of his tongue. “After everything—”

“Ah, he speaks at last! Truly remarkable after three doses of your Fire poison, Xiandu,” Jin Guangyao taunts with another caress down the side of his face, punctuating it with the tap-tap-tap of a fingertip under his chin, the drag of a single nail down the center of his bare, bloodied chest.

“Mingjue is far too resilient for his own good, he’ll need another few doses to calm down enough to be taken back to his cell. You and I have plenty of time to play together.”

“Mm so it would seem. Ah — careful Big Red,” Jin Guangyao tuts when Nie Mingjue jerks in his restraints again. “No damage unless I say so, don’t spoil our fun.”

“You fucking snake!” Nie Mingjue spits, venomous and bloody at Jin Guangyao’s feet. “Traitorous bastard, I should have drowned you in the river when I had the chance!”

Nie Mingjue registers the sharp crack of flesh a moment before his exhausted body catches up enough to realize it was Jin Guangyao’s knuckles across his cheek, and fresh pain (clean, honest pain, not the insidious venom of a needle under his skin) blooms red and black across half of his face.

“Disrespectful and arrogant, I would expect nothing less. Have you already forgotten who dragged whose half-drowned ass out of that water, you ungrateful—”

“Enough.” Wen Ruohan’s voice is sharp as a knife between the ribs, impatient for the first time Nie Mingjue has heard since he was captured. “I’ve no interest in your petty squabbling. Come here to me, Guangyao.”

Jin Guangyao turns and Nie Mingjue closes his eyes against the sight of him settling down primly on the arm of Wen Ruohan’s chair like he belongs there, like he’s some…pet for Wen Ruohan to play with.

He doesn’t want to know how many times his own brother has sat in that same spot, forced to play coy and meek to attempt to appease Wen Ruohan’s appetites long enough to survive. And yet Jin Guangyao goes to him willingly, sits at his side and lounges back, indolent, comfortable in his position. Nie Mingjue opens his eyes after a too-long moment of murmuring he can’t quite hear to see Jin Guangyao has turned to sling his legs over Wen Ruohan’s lap and bent down to speak directly into his ear.

“…even better poison than your Fire,” Nie Mingjue hears as Jin Guangyao sits up again to reach behind himself. “If you’ll allow this humble one to demonstrate, Xiandu. A thank you gift, for taking me in unexpectedly, hm?”

Wen Ruohan, smug and satisfied, simply smirks as he waves an indulgent hand, apparently in the mood to be generous to his newest torturer.

Nie Mingjue can’t take his eyes off the blade glinting in Jin Guangyao’s hand, carefully withdrawn from a sheath hidden in the small of his back. It’s long, he notes first, and obviously razor sharp where the thinnest of edges catches the glare of the single light over the table.

“It’s a hunting poison,” Jin Guangyao practically purrs as he turns the blade casually between his clever fingers, never straying from the hilt. “Harmless now while it’s dry, but once he’s wounded with it, and the wound exposed to air…” Jin Guangyao trails off meaningfully with a little smile, a tilt of his head. Wen Ruohan stares up at him where he’s perched just a few inches above him and Nie Mingjue’s lip curls with open disgust for the display.

Wen Ruohan tips his head to the side ever so slightly when Jin Guangyao stops spinning the blade long enough to press the flat of it to his cheek, a mirror of the way he’d caressed Nie Mingjue’s face, and Jin Guangyao’s smile takes on a strange edge, tilting higher at the left corner of his mouth.

“It’s faster than your Fire, I’ll admit, not much use for making him continue to suffer; but it’s quite effective for my purposes.”

“Your purposes,” Wen Ruohan repeats, amused. He tilts his head a little further and leans back, arm slung almost casually around Jin Guangyao’s hips to nearly pull him all the way into his lap. “And what would those purposes be? Revenge?”

“Mmm you could say that,” Jin Guangyao laughs, light and lilting.

His fingers blur and Nie Mingjue barely sees the moment he plunges the knife straight through Wen Ruohan’s chest.

Shock makes his entire body slacken and he can only watch dumbly as Jin Guangyao springs back from Wen Ruohan’s clawing hands, can only stare and stare and stare as his jailer — his tormentor, the bane of his existence — dies choking on his final breaths, hands curled uselessly around the hilt of Jin Guangyao’s knife like he’d intended to pull it out but simply died first.

“Mingjue, look at me.” Jin Guangyao is in front of him, bent at the waist to bring them eye-to-eye in an attempt to catch Nie Mingjue’s gaze. “Da-ge!”

Nie Mingjue sucks in a rattling breath and tears his eyes away from the corpse in the chair across from him with herculean effort.

“What the fuck was that?” he manages to ask, but Jin Guangyao doesn’t spare him the time to answer.

“I’m going to free you. If you kill me Huan-ge will be terribly upset with you, and be advised that he’s armed.”

“What the fuck did you just do?!” Nie Mingjue shouts. He strains against his manacles again until his right hand is freed and he can reach out to finally, finally get his fingers around Jin Guangyao’s throat and squeeze —

“Mingjue!!”

Jin Guangyao meets his gaze steadily and curls his fingers around Nie Mingjue’s to try to loosen their grip as Lan Xichen bursts into the room, a frisson of high-energy anxiety to cut through the murderous rage turning the edges of Nie Mingjue’s vision red. Every outburst he’s had (or nearly had) since the beginning of this mission has nothing on the fury raging through him now, and as Lan Xichen finishes removing the straps holding Nie Mingjue in place all he uses his freedom for is getting his other hand around Jin Guangyao’s neck as well.

“Mingjue stop it!” Lan Xichen shouts, sharp in his ear and cutting a narrow path through the haze. “Put him down, you’re killing him!”

“Good,” Nie Mingjue grits out between bared teeth, but between Jin Guangyao prying at his fingers and Lan Xichen’s unnerving strength yanking at his wrist he’s forced to drop Jin Guangyao the few inches he’d lifted him off the floor. The moment he’s free, he crumples, coughing and crawling weakly backward out of range as Lan Xichen steps between them.

Nie Mingjue is left with no choice but to focus on the other man, their even heights putting him in just the right place to see the steel in Lan Xichen’s gaze, the tense set to his jaw, the color high on his cheeks and his pupils dilated with what looks like pure adrenaline.

“He saved your life, Mingjue! If you kill him now you will find yourself answering to me, and I promise that you do not want to. Control yourself, we have to go.”

Nie Mingjue snarls and takes one step forward only to be held back by an iron bar across his chest – it’s not an iron bar, it’s Lan Xichen’s forearm pressed against him, but it certainly feels like iron, hard and utterly unyielding to the point of bruised aching as Nie Mingjue strains against him just to keep his feet underneath him.

“I will not be parted from either one of you, Mingjue, so control yourself, and we will all make our amends later! We have a job to finish.”

Nie Mingjue forces himself to take a deep breath in and hold it, his jaw aching with the force of his clenched teeth and his hands shaking where he’s got them fisted in Lan Xichen’s sleeves as if he’s going to force him away, though they both know he isn’t capable of doing so. Not now. He closes his eyes for a moment against the sight of Jin Guangyao’s eyes peeking over Lan Xichen’s shoulder, wide and afraid and innocent, with none of the cruelty Nie Mingjue had seen! No one is that good an actor, but there’s no trace of malice in him now, only concern and fear.

He’d seen it, but his mind is only barely his own and he knows that no one will trust what his eyes are telling him.

Not even himself.

Even still, Nie Mingjue isn’t buying the doe-eyed innocent act for a second, but Lan Xichen is right. They have a job to finish, and Wen Ruohan is dead. He opens his eyes again to find some of the ferocity has left Lan Xichen’s expression to be replaced by relief, and without sparing a thought for why he does it Nie Mingjue grabs his face between both palms to pull him into a kiss that’s more teeth than anything else, rough and demanding to try to burn through some of the energy he isn’t allowed to expel by strangling Jin Guangyao.

He feels like he’s fracturing, every emotion he could possibly feel flashing through him with no warning, everything dialed up to 11 and leaving him shaking with the need to do something, anything, to vent it.

“We need to go, Huan-ge,” Jin Guangyao calls from near the door. Lan Xichen returns one final brutal kiss before he withdraws and takes Nie Mingjue’s hand to tow him out of the room, through the labyrinthine hallways of the Fire Palace with a sense of purpose in his steps, a sense of direction. He doesn’t ask why Lan Xichen knows his way through the maze, he doesn’t ask why he trusts Jin Guangyao to lead them to safety rather than another trap, he doesn’t ask what happened or how long it’s been since he was captured, or why there’s no one here to stop them as they escape.

All he can do is follow, and when the tunnels begin to slope upwards he hurries along behind the others into fresh, clean air that doesn’t reek of anything but the faint whiff of sulfur-sharp smoke that clings to everything in Qishan.

They stop short at a few sharp claps from somewhere ahead and to the left, and when Nie Mingjue looks up it’s to find Wei Wuxian sitting on top of the wall that surrounds the Palace, one foot popped up on top of it and his elbow resting on his bent knee as he claps slowly, almost mocking, and offers them a little half-bow.

“A spectacular show from all of you, really. Well done,” he says, his voice colder than Nie Mingjue has yet heard it. “And now, I believe it’s my turn.”

[paradox-n-bedrock]

Hey! I saw throughout some of your tags that you got to see both Macbeth and The Enfield Haunting! (to which I'm insanely jealous, please hand over your memories to me at your earliest convenience!) What did you think of them??

Oh hi!!

The Enfield Haunting was enjoyable. Reviews for it have been overly harsh, for the most part, and I think part of that might be the genre bias horror often faces. The dialogue is clunky, particularly in the beginning, but I can say it's a fun show if you're a Conjuring, Enfield Poltergeist, or general haunted history fan. It presents the supernatural influence vs troubled children aspect in a balanced way, as is necessary for this plot. It also builds tension rather effectively once it gets going, while letting Catherine punctuate it with moments of lightness and her usual impeccable timing. There are some really good parts where a theme seemed to come together of this overwhelmed woman dealing with a rotating cycle of overbearing men (invasive investigators, infatuated neighbor, disrespectful ex-husband, and the poltergeist, of course) making nuisances of themselves in her home while she's just trying to push through each day without losing herself or her children to their collective unhappiness. If the theme had carried through more cohesively, it would have been a strong play. Unfortunately, I was left yearning for a bit more of that story, as it gets messy and lost maybe two thirds of the way though when the focus shifts to the investigator. But mainly, Catherine is so, so talented. She carries the whole thing on her back, with some help from the young actress who plays a very creepy Janet. It's hard to take your eyes off of her as Peggy, even when she's harried and anxious or reacting in furious silence to the action happening on the other side of the stage. She just... draws your gaze. And when she steels her spine to stand up for her family and her space, she's positively luminous. Plus there's an unexpected delight in a couple of scenes where Catherine sings Only Wanna Be With You--very sweetly, just a bar or two--and my heart felt like it was going to fucking burst. Hello, her voice... I need her to do another musical, preferably one we get a soundtrack to.

And she's so kind at the stage door. It was a two show day and she had a con the next morning but she still took the time to speak to every single person that was waiting there.

__

Macbeth, I wasn't carrying even the slightest hope of seeing but then I was able to get a standing ticket in my cart while on the flight there (though I had to let it go) and realized my years of stalking concert presales were about to come in handy. Ironically, my partner was the one who did snag the tickets two days later. I... actually ended up with a first row seat, though she was in the standing section. But that's just me rambling about the process because I still can't believe it worked out the way it did.

I'm not even sure what to say about the show itself. The whole cast is phenomenal. The production is conceptually very cool. The audio tricks they play with the witches--via a headset for each audience member and the eerie sense of movement and foreboding conveyed by bilateral audio--plus the starkness of the empty white stage and simple dark costuming just work. The contrast of the blood when David is centerstage, distressed and panting as he washes it away, feels poignant rather than pretentious. He's captivating the whole way through, but especially then, when he temporarily strips away the ambition along with his stained clothes to reveal the broken and guilty thing underneath. There's nothing like how DT delivers Shakespeare--the meaning flows out of him as naturally as the words themselves and it's incredibly approachable without losing any of its gravitas. The dynamic between the leads is atypical in a really lovely way. David's Macbeth and Cush's Lady Macbeth come across more like codependent partners and ruthless accomplices than a greedy but hesitant royal and his calculating wife egging him on. He looks to her for support rather than a push to kill Duncan, and the adoration between them is palpable, even as they each deteriorate in their own ways. I walked out of this show feeling so deeply affected, it was like a religious experience.

(Macbeth also feels very gender, which shouldn't be a surprise to anyone who's a fan of DT's Benedict, though this is obviously in a very different way. As does Malcolm, played by Ros Watt--who's non-binary--and Ross, played by Moyo Akandé. I adore the whole cast, honestly.)

[lileeethejoker]

prince and his mage

me frfr

also me knowing their relationships are so heavy and complicated and gentle respectful love mixes with guilt and rivalry that goes through their dynasties for centuries since morty’s father wants to colonize a continent and caden’s father unlived him and now morty basically is safe because his father hated, despised and was ashamed of his son that much he even hadn’t had ONE picture with him in a whole palace so no one actually knows morty is his son that supposed to ruin that kingdom secretly but he refused to do so from the start n that’s why his dad thought he’s weak and not won’t ever achieve greatness like father wanted, but morty stole one important thing to literally kill everyone and be a king of the whole continent so no one from his siblings would try to do so, but not everything went how he wanted

btw here’re the families of both gays

on first picture:

hazel (dad, dumb and funny man) is a king of that kingdom;

arthur (a bitch, will be a king later) is his and kitty's first child, very ambitious and cynical, but very witty and has nice strategy on kingdom management;

kitty (mom, even a bigger bitch, runs everything and probably has questionable hobby like idk taxidermy) is a queen, not the best person tho, but mostly because she's very tired since she's in charge of many things, because hazel isn't that good in social politics and their own portray and more concerned about pretty idealistic n immature things like "veryone should be happy";

caden (lmao, "dAd I dOnT wAnT tO bE a KiNg i PrEfEr BeInG a KniGht..." bro) is a middle child (yeah, he's 16 here, and arthur is 20 lol) prince, but he wants to be an armyman, not a next king, of what he notified his family;

mimosa (is done with everyone being brainless) is the youngest child, wants to be either a queen either a battle lady after she'll grow up.

on second pic:

pandora - middle kid, dad`s favorite kid, very cynical, smart, wise, cunning and actually cruel, has ambitions of an empress;

hans - homophobic and evil bitch, not just because he wants to own a whole continent, but also because he hates his sons bc they're not good enough due to his ideals;

ursula - was too young and too unaware of all horrors hans will make her to go through, but tbh she's very loyal and very kind person;

amadeus - just clues dumb dumb baby, knows nothing but wine and be dumb, idk, maybe he eats cheese?

from all kids,  only pandora was ready to conquer a whole continent, if you'll ask hans. morty is so weak and distant, that hans even refused to let him be on this family picture (yeah it's not painting in their world, rather magic photo, only palace magicians and witches can make them)

if in short: morty is just a disgrace to his family (except ursula, she loves him, he kinda resembles her mentally and she feels bitter about it a bit, because she understands how easily he might be traumatized, because she faced so much pain and it changed her A LOT, and mortyimer is very sensitive and gentle, just like her) and he's absent on every picture or painting, he's not really even there on different family meetings. he doesn't mind, mostly he's grateful to his father hating, disrespecting and being ashamed of mortimer so much he refuses to take him on his fancy royalty meetings and parties, because now morty has so much time for studying physics, magic and potion making. and their dynasty is mostly an almighty necromancers, mages and witches, so for morty it was mostly for the best.

at the age of 12-13 he got into magic academy, where he met caden. since morty has his mother's last name in that au - lamorte, not todenhofer - caden hadn't realized who mortimer is. and since caden was mostly an outcast in that academy, because he's not good at magic at all, morty was the only one who helped him to at least pass exams and get out of this lace in a few years.

that saved him from getting caught in some way, especially when caden asked his father to let "talented and outstanding mage" from the academy caden was studying magic in, be their next palace mage. that title means a lot, and since hazel was already thinking about retiring and handing the crown to his son - arthur - he agreed to let new blood in. like, it's a part of a change - to replace outdated with a new one, and most of the palace ministers were already too old to be able to help new king rule his country. some of them stayed, of course, to guide the king still, but they were not so many.

morty always wanted to break that circle of evil in his family, that curse in his dynasty. so finally he had a chance to change something.

[paulineagain]

For this week’s writing exercise, I sat down to imagining “girlness,” I was drawn to a very young character in my WIP: the daughter of one of the heroines. I imagine her here a little older than she is in the current story. She is disabled, realizing her asexuality and understanding that her status as a “natural child” will always mark her in early 19th century America. The standards that set her apart aren’t going to dismay her, though. Embracing our personal differentness without saying we’re sorry, especially for women and girls, is also a way to break the rules.

Thank you for including me – and all of us – in this opportunity @bettsfic and @books. It has been a great opportunity for me to dive deeper into so much that I love about writing.

Being born unable to hear came with a lot of rules. She knew that instinctively, never being told. Smile when people’s lips moved, even though they make no effort to be understood. Avoid nodding. They might be asking for something you cannot or will not give. Stick to your own, if you can. They make accommodations for you, and you for them.

The school for the deaf was far away. It was on a river, but nothing like the one back home, and the people were as cold as the weather. Dyed in the wool Protestants from Puritan ancestors, they wore their collars high and their expressions sour. Nothing like the people back home who she knew, again instinctively, her teachers thought of as indolent and lazy. Easy words of misunderstanding and dismissal.

She was called Joy here, even though her name was really Joie. The teachers corrected her with the signs for J-O-Y when she wrote her name in French at the top of her parchment. She would have to cross it out and write the hated letters given in terse movements of fingers gnarled by hard scrubbing and a lack of moister. These women seemed to have no joy, and she was often surprised that they could even spell the word.

Knowing another life, full of people who loved and accepted her for who and what she was, did not soften the hard edges. She came to the school at age ten and now, two years later, she counted days rather than months. Her mother, with a heart in the right place, said that five years away from all she loved would be enough. Seven, though, would be better. Joie wanted out now, and if her mother knew what they told her here she might agree.

Women could not, according to her teachers, achieve more than hearth and husband, home and children. They drilled this into her and her eager classmates. These girls, for the genders were separated in and out of class, giggled and passed notes about boys. Joie didn’t see the attraction. Boys were fine to talk to, and run after in a game of tag. Some of her finest friends were boys but Joie didn’t understand why girls fussed over them. Most of all, she knew she never wanted to marry.

She avoided telling anything but the most obvious when asked about her family, too. The people at this place would mock her for a mother who was a sea captain, an aunt who practiced medicine and a father she did know. Their rules said everything about her family was upside down and sideways. Everything about it was incorrect.

Her own ambitions, also unspoken, were wrong too. Joie dreamed of making her own way in the arts. Her love of portraiture bloomed here, perhaps the only thing that did besides the climbing roses on the shady side of the girl’s dormitory. She hoped to make a life for herself with her talent, and to one day say she had painted every rich Creole lady and praline seller back home. They all held their own fascination, and deserved a place in posterity.

Like the roses that chose the difficulty of a different path in the shade, but managed still to bloom in profusion each year, Joie imagined thriving. Against the odds, and all the rules, she saw herself thriving on her own. Like her mother who could aim and prime a cannon and her aunt who could save lives with surgery, their Joie would succeed. Just five more patient years, and the rules would all but be forgotten.

[bookwyrm35]

My rant about how complicatedly beautiful Locklyle is:

(Disclaimer: this was written at 3 am and I tend to get weirdly poetic in the wee hours. 🤷‍♀️ Just so you know.)

Let us begin with our components of this ship: Lucy Carlyle and Anthony Lockwood. Lucy comes from a home practically devoid of love. Her father is gone, her mother might as well be, and every sister (save possibly Mary) has left her life completely. When she went to London, she was searching stability, shelter and yes, she got that but she also got so much more. She found a family. She found friendship. She found love.

That, in my book is such a vital part of any relationship. Before you are anything else (not more because romance is not above platonic, but simply different), you must have friendship. It might sound cheesy or a little weird but it is true. And it was true for them.

It is important, when analyzing Lockwood and Co. characters, to remeber that Lucy, as much as we love her, is an unrediable narrator. She tells us what she notices and nothing more. As the books go on you can see her dwelling on Lockwood's description, going into more detail of how he looks, how he acts, she even starts to catagorize his smiles. It's slow and she'll never be caught dead admitting it, but you can see how her attraction to him grows and for once I love it. One, because the girl doesn't even notice and two, because it's natural. The pace they move at can be seen by others as miniscule and tortuous, but to me it is right. If there is to be romance, let it be done slowly. Let it be shown at the pace of opening spring and with the steps of shaky feet.

Turning to her counterpart in Lockwood, the first thing I would like to address is his focus. His ambition and drive, though seemingly strictly personal at first, is another vital thing I think plays into the masterpiece that is their relationship. He (for reasons you know if you've read the books) is laser focused on doing his job as an agent and doing it well. His country is plauged by a scourge and he will stop at nothing to alleviate the pain is brings. His whole life since...well, spoilers, has been devoted to fighting the dead, removing their spirits and doing it with flair. But then... along comes this Listener, this girl named Lucy, and everything changes. Suddenly he finds himself with his attention spilt, his once single mindedness gone like it never existed. For the first time in so, so long he thinks about something outside the Problem. This is all speculation, mere drivel on my part, but I truly belive that Lucy changed Lockwood in a way no one else could. She grounds him, gives him a reason to live beyond the next case. She becomes like his sun, a beacon of hope and light he can always turn back to.

I've heard people say that Lockwood fell first but Lucy fell harder. I think that fits. Though we don't see it clearly through Lucy's eyes, from the moment they met, Lockwood would do anything for her. Even when he barely knew her, he gave her his childhood room, a place in his home, his agency and his heart. He never pushed her to talk about her past, never took her Talents for granted, always tried to make sure she felt she belonged. He won't realize until much later, but I think he fell for her before she even accepted the job.

What about Lucy though? Why do people say that she fell harder? I can't say much, don't want to give away anything to those who have yet to read the books, but just know that she would do anything, anything, to keep Lockwood safe. Even if it meant torture and pain and loneliness beyond belief, if she thought it would help him-she would do it. She loves him so much, and she doesn't even realize it.

But does this devotion, the immediate connection make void the point I just made about things needing to be slow? No, because of the ever important detail of their ignorance. It is this inability to make that connection that I find so endearing, even nigh amusing. Anyone else could have told them they love each other, but the fact that they can't see it is delicious to me. It makes them act like fumbling fools, but they're teenagers. What do you expect? Their world is dark and dreary and full of death, but they have each other, and to them that's enough.

I think another reason I love Locklyle is because they never delude themselves into believing they're the only two people on this earth that matter. Never is there a moment where they shut out their friends in favor of being with the other. George (and later a few other characters) are so dear to them, and you never doubt that. Lucy and Lockwood have a special connection, that cannot be denied, but it is never put above thier friendships with others. Like I said before, romance is not more. It is simply different.

[divination1330]

Gonna ramble about fandom on this account, because who cares. Warning, really long post

I’ve liked the (mostly created by the fandom due to a lack of material) ship between Shiro and Adam for ages. Like, ever since I found out about it. And it’s for one huge reason. I am going to try and focus on source material and what I know about space, because my headcannons are all over the place.

I’ve wanted to be an astronaut my entire life, and having someone in my life who would stick out loving me through that dream is probably my greatest hope.

I’ve also got someone in my life who is like that. Who matches me for my talent and my heart but overall doesn’t have any aspirations like mine. They want to settle down and just have a mechanical engineering job that pays enough and that they enjoy (and a lot of pets). Their extracurriculars aren’t high stakes, they aren’t chasing grades for their future, but they still push themselves. They still demand the best from themselves that they can, and I do the same thing.

We’ve never had unhealthy competition. We’ve always tried to push each other and lean into each other’s ambitions and interests, but they have supported me in this dream without any doubt. They’re fully expecting to have to deal with the stress of me going to space.

I also never want to put them through that. My current aspirations already take me away from them so much. What will that do to my partner and my best friend in the years to come? Will I want them to move on, find someone who actually has their feet on the ground?

I like the fact that there was a breaking point between Shiro and Adam, despite how it seems like Adam was the closest person to Shiro. We hear nothing about Shiro having a family outside of mentoring Keith, and possibly his work with the Holts, if you want to count that. Adam is still the only person to call Shiro by his first name, and they were nearly married. From the photo in the background they flew together as well. As an aviator that drives me up the wall. The protective instinct that I’ve seen pilots have for each other, and the reckless streak, is so interesting (that’s an entire other topic about what the personalities of pilots means for Voltron, and for Shiro in particular).

You bet your ass Adam was at the end of his rope. I like to see him as a parallel to Haggar in the same way Shiro was a parallel to Zarkon. Haggar’s search for knowledge corrupted her and tore her apart. She was selfish in doing so. She refused to let the people she loved die, and let it drive her to insanity. Adam was a teacher, not a scientist. His job was about sharing knowledge. What did Adam do when someone he cared about endangered their life in a way higher than the risks that they had ever taken on together?

When he realized that Shiro was inevitably going to an environment that speeds up muscular atrophy and osteoporosis for a long term mission with a minimal crew and is extremely taxing on mental health, which from the scraps we know about Shiro’s illness and personality is probably highly dangerous on several accounts, he let go.

He decided he cared about someone enough to let them go and preserve his own sanity, because he could never control them. You bet that hurt. He wouldn’t hold on to someone and do horrible things to try to work against someone’s own autonomy.

(PS: I’m really interested in Shiro’s personality in regards to being something uncontrollable. He’s the guardian of the air, to his knowledge his life is incredibly fragile, he’s the definition of astronauts being medical experiments and extremophiles, he’s a model student, he’s going to be young forever until he isn’t and he’ll lose everything that makes him part of the garrison, he’s a born leader and an incredible strategist, he’s built his own family from people he met at a military school, he commits insubordination, he’s the garrisons youngest pilot of a long-term mission, he decided to mentor a kid who stole his car, he managed to become a symbol of hope to the blades while in what could have been his lowest moments, he’s faced with a kid pulling his rank to make a decision and immediately makes it a team effort, you’ll never catch him taking a break, what?)

That’s what I think is the illustration of the very start of the difference between Zarkon and Shiro. Zarkon nearly tore reality apart and refused to let Haggar go at the expense of so much. Before Shiro ever went to space, he was on both sides of that decision, in a way. Would he stay because someone who had such an impact on him loved him, or would he continue with his mission because he might be the only one who can do this.

Zarkon abandoned his team and his service to Voltron for someone he loved beyond anything. Haggar abandoned everything in her search for knowledge, believing that Zarkon would do anything to save her.

Shiro and Adam both serve the morals of the Garrison, what has become their home. They both study flight, and engineering, and what lies beyond the atmosphere. They have been there for each other since what seems like the start. Adam looked at all the risks and knew he could never try to make a decision for Shiro, but he also wasn’t able to stand by and watch while he hurt himself. Shiro looked at his options and believed that he was the only one able to pilot the Kerberos mission the farthest manned mission the Garrison had ever conducted. They let each other go because they loved each other. They loved each other because of those same reasons in the first place. They wouldn’t be who they are without those traits, those values.

At the end of the day, Adam dies because of those same values. He defended Earth, and probably did the exact same thing Shiro would have done. They were just both like that. Selfless, and very aware of what Earth means.

But what if he made it?

How would that pan out?

I can say this. Through all of it, my partner feels like the only person who truly gets all of this. The ambition, the sacrifices, the strain. I also hide stuff from them when I don’t want them to become too worried, at least till it blows over. Especially with flight involved, or space accidents. I’ve cried on their shoulder about some of this, and they also feel like my only haven some days.

Shiro comes back, and the one person who gets him is fighting the same fight Shiro is. Adam is in danger and taking the same risks Shiro is, and the problem is he isn’t special, not like the paladins, and now the universe really is at stake. What decisions would Shiro make? Especially since they broke up? How much have they both changed?

What if Shiro has to choose between his universe and the universe

And what does he do in the wake of losing his body, his illness, and nearly his mind. He’s lost a limb all over again. His tormentor is his savior, and also someone who lost everything so long ago. He’s coming back home after at least six years, and he can only really remember two, but is it really home? He’s not dying anymore, and now he really has to think about surviving the war and having a life. He’s not expendable anymore, and he’s not in the feild with the paladins he swore to protect. As an Admiral no less, and pilot of a sentient war ship. He lost Black, and gained Atlas.

Who is he going to? Everyone depends on him, everyone has expectations for him.

Who wouldn’t understand all of the things that happened, but understands him. Would he even deserve that person anymore

What does Adam think? Here’s someone who changed his life, through friendship and love and death, who’s now back. The sky was their graveyard, and now it’s their battleground. And he knows more than anyone about them. He knows the way they fly, fight, strategize, everything. At least, the way they did it before they disappeared. How are they still alive? Have they changed? Is he even remotely in their orbit anymore? Does he deserve to be?

At the end of the day, I think Adam would be the only one to see Shiro for who he really is during those last months of the war on Earth. A man with the universe on his shoulders, who is more unsure of his place in it than ever. I also think Adam would be the first person to help him let it go. After all, they used to do everything together. Garrison classes, flying, work, why not this?

Maybe having two people so intrinsically intertwined, who chose each other for who knows what reasons, and chose the universe because they loved each other, was the only way to reverse ten thousand years of war from one selfish decision. Maybe it took two people accepting they could never change each other, and would never want to, in order to change everything

Yeah, sucker for space context to Voltron and extremely dynamic relationships. Fun fact, took me and my partner years to date each other after I first asked them out. We were best friends for ages before they responded by asking me out after my initial ask years before.

Well, this is a fandom account now I guess. Get ready for the brain rot

[levanterhaze]

✧ SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK (LEE KNOW)

→ dancer!lee know xdancer!f.reader

→ word count: 2.4k

→ when dancing is all you know, it becomes your great passion. studying at the apollo school of arts is like a dream come true. in one of your accomplishments, you have to work with one of the greatest talents called lee minho and accept that maybe feelings are confusing and abstract like slow dancing alone in the dark.

→ warnings: lots of angst in this one lol

CHAPTER THREE — (masterlist)

playlist: you don't go to parties anymore, 5sos.

Minho didn't mind being the prime focus. He was always clear about what he wanted from an early age and his ambitions never got in the way of him. Everyone recognized him and he didn't care. He was there for a reason.

It’d be the first day of being an instructor for Ms. Oh and he was self-reliant about it. While preparing the stereo for the beginning of the class, before the teacher arrived, he watched the room’s motion.

And something caught his attention. A new person. Talking to you.

He knew well who his classmates were, and Mingi wasn't one of them. Then Minho was baffled not knowing why he was with you, talking absently while pulling the dark blue strands back. He didn't realize he was pulling the cord until the stereo unplugged, causing a loud thud to echo through the room.

“Why are you staring at Mingi like you want to kill him?” Jisung suddenly appears, stretching his arms and pulling them by the elbow.

"You're seeing things."

"I think not. Did something happen that I'm not aware of?”

"No." Minho finished fixing all the appliances and raised his eyebrows. "You’re nosy."

“And you never tell me anything. Unfair. I’m your best friend.”

"Yeah. You're." They both pause and Jisung narrowed his eyes. Minho grins. "Unfortunately."

"I'll kill you."

And then Jisung pushed his best friend, trying to mount his back and making Minho laugh.

Mrs. Oh arrived in moments and the class started. The instructors helped the students who had more difficulty in some lessons, like breathing properly or getting some choreography positions that the teacher passed as a test. Most of them were doing well on the exercises, but sometimes someone would lose focus or balance, requiring help from one of the three.

Yeji smiled shyly at Minho as he helped her by holding her arms. It was the second time she had tripped over her own feet and that made him go to help her.

"Sorry, I'm a little lost today," Yeji mutters embarrassingly, feeling Minho's firm fingers around her wrist.

He just stammers something Yeji can barely hear. He's looking at you. Mingi and you. And the way he's shining at you like you've known each other for ages. And it infuriates him, he can't say why, but it infuriates him deeply.

"Everything’s fine?" Yeji asks as she tries to catch Minho's eye.

"Yes, everything is great. Just keep your balance, all right?”

He walks away from Yeji and walks back to the other side of the room, repeating the same movement as the other students, but his eyes betray him and he finds himself looking at you and Mingi now and then, just to see if your closeness continues and he tries to ignore the way Mingi looks at you, or the way his hands hold yours when he tries to steady himself, but deep down, he can't.

Fuck all this. He can barely understand why there's a soreness in the pit of his stomach that creeps up to his core like a tremor.

So the class goes by almost too fast and when everyone leaves, there are only three students left: the instructors. Chaeryeong offers to get the three of you some snacks and you accept an iced coffee and Minho too.

There’s a makeshift table used by Ms. Oh, so the three of you get together for your first meeting. You sit across from Minho, who’s tirelessly typing something into his computer.

“So, I was thinking” you start, clasping hands on the table. “We should think about a concept for our presentation.”

You wait patiently for a response, but Minho looks nonchalantly while not paying you any attention. You frown, leaning your body forward. “Are you listening to me?”

He sighs tiredly. You feel uneasy, as if you were a thorn in his side. “What do you want?”

You raise your brows. “I just said it but I guess you’re too busy to listen.”

“Thank God! You noticed I’m actually busy, congrats.” Minho doesn't even bother to glance at you. That comment made you drift away. 

“What's up with that attitude?” He made it. He managed to annoy you deeply. 

“What attitude?” He looks at you, briefly. “I just said I’m busy.”

“No, you did not.” You add through clenched teeth. “I don’t get you. First, you show up at my dorm saying you’d like to team up and when I try to cooperate you just treat me like shit?”

He closes his laptop with a swat, finally peeking at you. Somehow you find it so bothersome to pay attention as his eyes sail roughly through your face. It’s ridiculous how dainty he is, like a fucking Adonis or some shit like that, and it’s absurd that he can look this good when he’s being a total asshole. 

“Sorry to disappoint you, but not everyone’s lusting over you, giving you all the attention. Some of us are just busy, y’know?”

You were stumped. Your blood turns into thin ice. What was going on?

“Uh-Is everything okay?” Chaeryeong’s voice fills the place in a lovely innocent tone. You look at her discomfiting. Whatever Minho was going through, you didn’t want to be part of it. You weren't going to let him treat you like this, all shitty and everything. 

“Yeah. I-Um, actually, I have to finish some assignments for tomorrow. I’ll just email you my notes, ok?” You didn’t even worry about waiting for an answer, even though it wasn’t fair to Chaeryeong who doesn’t have shit to do about Minho’s shitty attitude. 

You haven’t any assignment to do, but you couldn't bear to be in the same room with Minho for any five minutes, so you need an excuse. You did send Chaeryeong your notes for the meeting and you wrote an apology in the footnotes, hoping she wouldn’t think you were unprofessional. 

Campus was dead silent at this time. Most of the students were having class at the moment, so there were a few people who wandered across the green premises. You felt weary. Like if you had run an intense marathon and it had drained all your energy.

Unfortunately, you couldn't focus on anything more than what happened earlier. How did he expect you to team up with him if he had this kind of attitude toward you? It was so out of the blue that you couldn’t even react properly. You knew he was mellow and austere, but you didn’t know that passive-aggressive shit about him. 

But how could you? You were not friends with him. 

You gasp while typing on your phone. One word was all it took for Yunjin to drop whatever she was doing to come to you. You typed in caps lock METEORITE. The code between the two of you when something wasn’t right and the antidote was to stick together. 

She found you in the nearest cafe. You ordered two choco chip frappuccinos because it was her favorite and you needed something sweet to make up for Minho’s bitterness. Yunjin was all in pink, in a cute dress, and her strawberry hair was loose in cute waves like a barbie doll. 

“What happened?” She sat in front of you. “I was doing my nails but I ran the fastest I could.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Was something with Ms. Oh?”

“Actually, it was Minho.” Yunjin's motion ghosts in the air, the straw almost going to her nostrils. She widens her eyes and then takes a long sip of her coffee. 

Then it took you almost ten minutes to explain everything that happened and Yunjin gave you her best support, saying she didn’t know Minho was like that. She hangs out with him more times than you, because of Changbin, etc. It was fine, you just needed some kind of stimulus not to believe you were overreacting.

You were not. Minho was being a bitch.

“You know what? Changbin just told me about this Pool Party next week and you’re coming with me.”

“I have nothing to wear.”

She looks at you with that grin with genius potential. “Maybe I have something in mind.”

The week passed quickly. Classes were great, and you're doing good with the instruction thing but you were late in preparation for the final presentation and that was on Minho. 

He didn't speak to you at all. Every time you walked into the room, he dodged every second of it. Chaeryeong didn't say a thing but of course, she noted something was off. You just admitted you had to do your presentation by yourself, without him, because he was being a dick as usual. 

So, Saturday came in like a breeze in the summer. Yunjin set up a nice black swimsuit for you to wear. She chose a strawberry-pink one for her, just to match her essence. The party was taking place at somebody’s house, but you knew that somebody was friends with the seven — Changbin, Felix, Hyunjin, Bangchan, Jisung, Jisung, Seungmin, and Minho. 

You had everything you needed when you came. It was a hot day so everyone was already at the pool. You found Felix and Seungmin in the kitchen. Felix was slashing oranges and limes to make some booze, you guessed. 

“Hey, stranger.” Felix grins when his eyes land on you. “Take this. It tastes sweet?”

You take a sip from whatever he was doing before. It was refreshing and sweet with a little bit of alcohol. “It’s perfect.”

“Told you, no more limes.” Felix points at Seungmin, who serves himself a cup of that drink.

You step out, feeling a little odd cause you only knew some people at this party. Some guys were playing with Nerfs in the pool and you were sure you had a glimpse of Jisung shooting water at Hyunjin. Yunjin was with her lovely boy — almost boyfriend. They were on so many dates that they should just be together at this point.

But she seemed happy and that was all.

You joined them, sitting on the rim of the pool. Felix hands you another glass.

That day was already nice, spattering water on Yunjin and Seungmin with Nerfs. Teaming up with Jisung just to see who swims faster. Eating Felix’s brownies and drinking a lot of that sweet orange drink he made. 

Changbin had the brilliant idea to do the chicken fight. First, it'd be you and Yunjin. She climbed onto her lover’s shoulders while you climbed on Bangchan’s. You tried your best not to fall, he was slippery and you didn't have a place to hold except his header — which you wouldn't do. 

And you were winning because you have more stability in your arms than her. You could see her slipping through Changbin’s shoulders but something caught your eye. Minho and Yeji.

You should've focused only on Yunjin. You shouldn't have glanced up at him. His damp blonde hair. His open black shirt and his sinewy body. He peeked at you and you only had time to mumble a fuck before your body slammed into the water. 

Bangchan helped you, asking if you were okay over and over. You were. One minute ago. Before Minho. 

It was childish, you had to admit it. How he was able to change your mood with just one look. You're still angry with him and that was all. He just surprised you, that's what tried to convince yourself. 

You got out of the pool just to drink a little more.

Fuck Minho. You wouldn't let him ruin your day. 

You were so comfortable before, you ain't even realized he wasn't here. 

Two drinks turned into three and then four. 

You're tipsy and happy. Yeonjun’s house — you discovered later that it was his place— was empty. Rosé and peach colored the sky and somehow the music was louder. You found yourself craving one of Felix’s brownies so you went to the kitchen to grab some. 

And your heart skipped a beat when you found Minho there. He was ignoring you still and that was a bummer. You could sense the alcohol touring through your system and every thought was a missed heartbeat. 

He looked at you, his raised eyebrow like he was challenging you. But you knew better and you wouldn't let him treat you like shit again. 

“You good?” His voice is calm, kinda treacherous though.

You open the fridge and then look at him over your shoulder. “Talking to me?” 

“There’s just us here.” He shrugs. 

“Why wouldn't I be good? I'm great.” You snort. 

You feel it when he gets closer. He rests his arms on the fridge door. “You look drunk.” 

You peer at him. “And?”

“You should have some water.” He points at the bottle inside the fridge. 

There was a hesitation that Minho wasn't expecting. You gathered all boldness hidden in your body to dart him in the eyes.  “I don't need you to tell me what to do.” 

And it was no shock when he didn't feel offended. He tongue his cheek, looking down at you “Yeah?” 

“Why do you care if I need fucking water? Wasn't you who said I was an attention sucker?” 

“I owe you an apology.” His soft talk makes you sigh. “I shouldn’t have snapped like that. It was a bad day. I’m sorry.”

At the end, you knew you could let this go. You didn’t hate him, you just wanted to be treated right, like a person at least. Minho looked sincere and you could tell by his eyes that he meant it. It could probably be the alcohol too — you’d definitely ignore that.

“You really didn’t mean that, tho?” 

He furrowed his brows. “No. Never.” 

That was different. The way he was looking at you, like you were friends — close friends. And the sweetener in his tone, you were unsure. He said nothing, his locks falling through his forehead and his greek nose was so close you could almost scent the citric cologne. 

You were close. 

Too close.

“I should go back. I guess.” You were so bewildered. Alcohol or not, you felt spell blinded.

Before you leave, he points again at the fridge. “You forgot your water.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You nod, tenderly beaming.

You set off the kitchen just to discern seconds after that you didn’t go there for water. Minho said you needed water. You were so disconcerted you didn’t even realize. It was him.

On your way back Yunjin was frowning at you. But you could understand the “is everything okay?” in her eyes. You nodded. 

That’s because you didn’t have the chance to see what Yunjin saw. The gentle smug look on Minho's face when he followed you to the pool. The shyly yet fond smile crooked his lips while he had his head down.

Yunjin was confused.

But it was all about you. Because of you.

taglist: @taeriffic @ughyoobi

a/n: hi! if you want to be tagged in this one just let me know and i appreciate comments a lot, they're always welcome and motivates me a lot to write more.

[seththemountain]

The Power of Rejection

I've had several rejections over my lifetime, whether from failed potential relationships, my work not being accepted by a publisher, the constant bullying I went through growing up, or any other point where I was not welcomed. Through the heartache and pain, I've found an inward power.

When did I find this power?

A couple of months ago, my best friend, a woman, declined to have me as her partner and instead decided to pursue another man. This has been a common occurrence over my lifetime. Admittedly, when I was younger, I did not handle it correctly. I was the archetypal "Fedora," if you know your internet lore. I would winge and cry to the woman on why she didn't pick me, begging for her affection. However, in the past few years, my usual strategy, once rejected, has been simply walking away with no begging involved. Even though I would walk away, I lacked a key ingredient. That being the ability to love the man I am without retreating into other people's attention. When my best friend rejected me, that rejection was utterly different. I had come to the realization of just how high value I had become over the years. My ambitions and work with school, my current machining career, community involvement, writing, and content creation have made me independent, enduring, and dedicated. After this last rejection, I saw the need to be no longer desperate and that I needed to have peace of mind. 

How does someone find this power?

It is not enough for rejection alone to give you the power I have. You can be rejected your whole life, but if you take no time for mental and spiritual inventory, you'll continue to be pathetic. To become powerful from rejection, I had to ask myself who I wanted to be as a man. I had to begin work on a purpose beyond myself. For me, that is working towards becoming a Renaissance man. I want to be accomplished as a scholar, writer, machinist, graphic designer, and content creator. As I have learned through my last rejection, that great purpose was only the first step. I had to learn to become content with being alone in my mind. A lesson I am still learning. Many people, including myself, have tended to run away from this notion. We run to potential relationships as an escape from ourselves. Even those with the whole world at their command can fall into this trap. I had to become my second-best companion, just below the Lord. I had to start taking better care of my physical health. I had to spend intentional alone time to enjoy my presence and to mentally and spiritually heal. I tend to do this through prayer, meditation, walking, and journaling. I do realize my inward power now because of the rejections I've gone through. I've seen the high value in myself, and I embrace it. I know I don't need to worry about not finding love because I know that as long as I stay true to my course, everything will work itself out. 

Key Takeaways

After a rejection, write in a journal about the event, what role you might have played, and where you are mentally. Come up with an action plan to heal.

If you lack a greater purpose in life, begin to journal about what person you want to become. What would you like to accomplish? What talents/skills do you want to go all the way with? 

Write down what ways you can love yourself. Maybe you need to have a better skincare routine, be better at what you eat and how much you exercise, or begin to have a more spiritual life. 

[minevn]

Do any of the LIs struggle with self-esteem issues?

YEUP! I'll get into a few that I can without major spoilers!

Old! Minato: Minato's insecurities mainly focus on the scar on the bridge of his nose and his large stature. Another thing he would get bullied about in school is that his parents never made it to any school event, rumors went around about him and his parents.

New! Minato: He's still insecure about the scars on his face and his large and intimidating stature. Same with his parents not being able to make it to any school events. I'd say he's also insecure about his trust issues, never really letting anyone get past arms length with him. He see's all these people having friends or significant others, but he really struggles letting others into his life, so he's embarrassed about not having any friends. Also like he knows he smells bad, he works with fish there's just no way he doesn't smell bad, but he tries to cover to scent and he has good hygiene. After the fish smell goes away he smells like the beach, which is good, he likes that.

Haruto: This isn't really an insecurity but he does hate being the oldest, a lot of pressure was put on him because of that. You were like the one thing he truly had, someone that didn't care if he was older, because of that he wants you to himself. He hates that he is a perfectionist and a germaphobe, they only make his life harder. He doesn't have that many insecurities, just a lot of pressure.

Jun: Jun despises who she was before. She understands that people change and realize things about themselves, but Jun was so insecure before realizing who she was. Jun has always been the more feminine sibling while Aki has always been more of a tomboy, and Jun's parents aren't exactly supportive. Jun realized who she was way before she made any change to herself and the reason it took so long is because Jun didn't want to disappoint her parents. She's a lot better with her insecurities but when she first started dressing and acting more herself, the stares and questions she got made her kind of uncomfortable because she hadn't had to deal with that stuff often.

Hoshi: Much like Jun, Hoshi hates who he was before a certain relationship. He doesn't like thinking about who he was before, the clingy, jealous, always smiling around loved ones kinda person he was before. He's also insecure about not having any goals and dreams in life, he's never known what he wanted.

Habiki: He's embarrassed about working at a restaurant. He DOES have his own dreams and ambitions, and he thinks he's pretty good at what he likes, so to be trapped while his talent is being thrown away is something that he hates. He hates how loyal he is to his family, that he can never speak for himself, he hates that he DOES have emotions.

Kage: He's insecure about EVERYTHING. He hates how tall he is, how skinny he is, his bright red hair, his droopy eyes, his kind of short eyebrows, the fact that he's a job-hopper, how he lives, he's insecure about it all.

Kei: He's insecure about his eyes. He also hates when people tell him he looks intimidating or pompous, that's not who he is or who he's trying to be. He has a love/hate relationship with how obsessed he can get with certain things, for example, you. Another example is with animals, if he likes a certain animal, he is going to do all the research he can about it.

Yani: Insecure about a lot of things honestly, the main one being that he doesn't know who he is. She has so many different appearances and personalities for other people. She doesn't spend a lot of time thinking about herself, rather she spends that time thinking of how to get others to like her. She hates that she has this NEED to please others. It's easier to just ignore these insecurities and be someone else.

[inamindfarfaraway]

Perhaps the funniest League of Legends character interaction that's also highly plausible in-universe, thematically appropriate and emotionally charged is Rell and Veigar teaming up.

They’re both extremely magically strong and skilled. Rell controls metal, a product of the earth from which she can directly rip ore. Veigar draws his celestial magic from the stars.

They both have dark, tragic backstories: because of their magical talent, they were taken into custody by powerful, corrupt Noxian authorities, isolated, abused and forced to use their magic harmfully for a long time, at least relative to their respective lives. This traumatized and broke them so much that they now see inflicting pain as the only thing they’re good at, even capable of. They have no friends. They've never known or have forgotten what it feels like to be loved, joyful or carefree. All they were left with once free was so much guilt and grief and so much power. From that, they have forged new identities - roles to play - built around singular, combative ambitions that they cannot imagine lives or futures beyond. Rell identifies as a gritty, edgy antihero, having noble intentions but using brutal, destructive and downright gruesome methods. Veigar identifies as a villain, but is good at heart despite not comprehending this himself.

They’re both currently roaming around the Noxian countryside in order to find and defeat as many powerful, corrupt Noxian authorities who mistreat people as they can. Rell does this to make the guilty pay for their crimes and liberate and protect the oppressed. Veigar does it to replace the authority and prove that his evil is greater and cooler than theirs, but in practice doesn’t really bother hurting anyone innocent and just ends up making the guilty pay for their crimes and liberating and protecting the oppressed.

They’re both connected to Mordekaiser, and would be primary enemies of him holding personal grudges if his plot about trying to dominate Runeterra is ever developed. Rell was such an important project for the Black Rose because they hoped that she would be able to defeat Mordekaiser. He embodies everything she stands against. Mordekaiser was Veigar’s captor and abuser, responsible for who he is today. Rell can manipulate metal; Veigar wields incredible cosmic magic; and Mordekaiser is a magical suit of armour, so if anyone can finish him off, it’s these two working together.

Rell is practical, pragmatic, cynical and consumed by bloodthirsty, vengeful rage. Veigar clings to and imitates an immature ideal of Villainy, fashioning his outfit after Mordekaiser’s stereotypical fantasy evil overlord aesthetic, his behaviour after all the most theatrical tropes that archetype can be associated with and having very dramatic and flashy magic, but inwardly lacks the cruelty (not to mention dignity) to back that presentation up.

They both want the Noxian people to respect them as a threat. Rell has wanted posters and become widely feared by the elite army less than a year since her escape. Veigar has been ‘conquering’ for centuries and is still not taken seriously.

Their respective magic colours are yellow and purple, and the rest of both of their colour palettes is grey, silver and black.

Everything about Rell is played completely straight. Almost everything about Veigar is played for comedy.

Rell could come across a village that Veigar has seized and accidentally benefitted, like Boleham in his story on the website, and try to challenge him. Or they could both arrive to kill the same tyrannical warlord at the same time. She realizes that he is a) really bad at being bad, b) just a silly little guy and c) an extremely useful asset to her quest.

So she directs him at the Black Rose and they go and utterly fuck Noxis up while helping the downtrodden. There's so much comedy to get out of their contrasting personalities and perspectives. Rell always acts like the protagonist of a grim, action-packed young adult dystopian series and Veigar is standing right next to her emanating campy children's cartoon villain energy; they both think the story is a different genre and the acting and tone should reflect that. This premise is hysterical with the proper execution.

But it isn't just funny! They can genuinely bond and learn, or in Veigar's case remember, what loving and being loved is, and begin to process their trauma and help each other cope with their C-PTSD and be kinder to themselves and have fun and become fulfilled. And then kill Mordekaiser, whose return is one of the subplots. And then live happy, safe, peaceful lives together, because they were never meant for all this violence.

Other subplots besides Mordekaiser include LeBlanc, Rell's mother and the Black Rose's operations; the wider Noxian politics they tie into; Samirah hunting Rell; Annie also wandering around Noxis causing trouble and eventually getting adopted by Rell as a little sister (they deserve it); maybe the story of a Yordle who knew Veigar before and thus can supply some of his backstory that he's forgotten, a 'normal Yordle' foil to him; and generally lots of Noxian and Yordle worldbuilding and lore.

While I'm talking about Veigar, here are my ideas for a redesign of him, because his design is... not that great:

As yordles are generally animalistic or at least furry, he strongly resembles a black cat, with gold eyes with slit pupils and a dark purple nose. Black cats are associated with the supernatural, magical arts and misfortune, they're bad omens to some, but they're also fluffy little babies. He is covered in fur. You want to scratch his checks. You want to kiss his little forehead. He's so adorable and he hates it. His large pointy ears, visible under the brim of his hat, move to signal his emotions for more expressive animation. They both have notches, which help him look pitiable and allude to his past as a prisoner and victim of abuse. He has big 'weathered street cat hissing and growling at you when you try to pet it because it's reflexively afraid of people and shows that through aggression' energy.

@ohnoitstbskyen's idea in his "What's the deal with Veigar?" video that Veigar's face (his cute kitty face!) is never fully in the shadow of his hat despite him trying to look mysterious and ominous is brilliant. He’s very lively, since he acts like a classic cartoon villain who’s so excited and gleeful about being evil, so he has a habit of jostling his hat or lifting his head to reveal his whole face and then hastily pulling the hat back down.

His robe no longer has the spiked metal hem and is of a soft, loose, flowing fabric. It’s dark indigo with silver sparkles all over it like he’s wearing the night sky, in homage to the stars he draws his power from. Except the beautiful pattern is interrupted and partly obscured by a leather belt - not spiked and black, a bolder and more ‘evil’ colour than brown and a Noxian colour - with a tasteless spiky silver buckle that clashes with the stars. I love what TB Skyen said about the armour and spikes working best as a parody of Mordekaiser’s aesthetic, so I want those aspects to look tacked on and out of place. To feel wrong. Inadvertently on Veigar’s part, but deliberately in a meta sense. Between the robe, his big purple wizard hat matching his nose that also makes his body look smaller and cuter and the black cat associations, you’ve got a perfectly good yordle celestial mage design; but the influence of Mordekaiser is intruding on it, corrupting it, even. That is the clear conflict of this design. While the robe is comfortable, the armour doesn’t appear to be. This impression is helped by it all being at least a little oversized, because Noxian armour doesn’t come in yordle size and therefore Veigar has cobbled his together out of scraps he scavenged (I mean, he STOLE, how wicked) and he isn’t really a great blacksmith. His boots aren’t clown shoes or anything, but they’re big enough that his attempt at an imposing villainous stride is awkwardly clunky. They could have black leather straps on them to hold them tighter than their metal fasteners will allow. His spiked pauldrons were cut out of human ones and still jut out too much, one of them having an irregular shape that gives him a dash of Noxian asymmetry and marks him further as a flawed imitation of a fantasy supervillain. The message that he’s incompetent at something and did it anyway out of passion, perhaps not even realizing his mistakes or at least too proud to acknowledge them, makes him come across as comedic and yet an endearingly earnest, hardworking underdog, and adds to the surprise of his genuine incredible cosmic power - he couldn’t learn to smith properly before forging his own armour, but he can command the energy of the stars to smite you? Yeah. That’s Veigar. There’s one silver ring around the base of his hat that has five spikes on it, thick, long and evenly positioned so that from above, they form a star shape. Specifically, an inverted star with one spike pointing directly forward. Symbolism! His belt buckle could also be an inverted star to establish that as a motif of his; it’s spiky, but more personal and iconic than just spikes themselves.

Moving onto Rell... she has her sigils. I don't know why she doesn't in her model or artwork, they're such a crucial part of her character design! Her biography and short story both bring them up. There are even bare sections of her arms, which would only make sense if her sigils were visible in them because it's impractical and she's so averse to vulnerability, but the sigils are missing? What? Why, Riot? So yeah, in my redesign she has sigils right down both her arms. A few more recent ones are on her back (symbolic of her betrayal by her family, the Black Rose and the government). They're always hidden, even in her lighter armour on horseback, as she's deeply uncomfortable around the concept of being exposed and seeing them herself. We and Veigar only see them in dramatic character exploration scenes when a) she feels safe enough to take her armour off, b) she needs to due to injury or to hide her identity or c) someone else damages or removes her armour. Taking TB Skyen's advice again, her outer armour and therefore horse are spikier and less polished and regular, products of her undiluted heartbroken rage in the moment she destroyed the academy. They're highly distinctive, almost organic-feeling and definitely don't look like the work of a smith.