#effective leadership training courses

[speakersyouneedllc]

Administrative Training for Government Employees

Enhance administrative skills tailored for government employees. Our training improves efficiency and productivity in government roles. For more information visit our website: https://speakersyouneed.com/

[empresskadia]

Dragon age the Veilguard spoilers??

Viago calls my Rook a damn fine crow and this bitch holds it together for a solid 5 minutes until she's left the diamond and full-on just starts crying in front of Davrin and Lucanis. And it's a slow build-up to that point because Viago's praise has such an effect after everything that's happened. Like their walking through the eluvian, heading back to the lighthouse and Rook is so quiet for once, and her eyes start tearing and the line keeps repeating in her head until she has to place her hand over her mouth but tears are just running down her face and she can't look at either man behind her because she doesn't want them to know how much that shit has hit her heart because oh my god, Viago really does think I'm an amazing Crow. And my Rock is an elf who is still reeling that her gods are a fucking lie to this world while trying to hold together this team.

But the feelings are so overwhelming that she has to stop walking and crouches down to put her face in her hands and just crying because oh my god Viago said I'm a damn fine Crow and still believes in me.

Anyways, this is a very emotional scene for me and my Rook.

So here is my little written scene;

Viago called me a damn fine Crow.

The words echoed in Rook’s head, like a drumbeat she couldn’t escape. It had been easy to keep her composure in the Diamond—her training demanded it. Viago’s offhanded praise had settled in her ears, light as a feather and heavy as a mountain, and she’d stood there with her usual unshakable snark and calm, smiling just enough to deflect attention.

But the moment they stepped through the eluvian, back into the faintly shimmering otherworld, it hit her all over again.

Damn fine Crow.

Rook walked ahead, silent for once, her hands flexing at her sides. The hum of the Veil pressed around them, but her mind was louder. She kept her back straight, her shoulders square, though the reality of it all was pressing in—the lie of her gods, the fractures in her team she'd been desperately mending, the constant strain of keeping herself steady when everything else seemed to fall apart. And then Viago—sharp-tongued, clever Viago—Her fifth Talon. Believed in her. Praised her.

The first tear slipped down her cheek before she even realized it. She clenched her jaw, brushing at her face quickly as if the action could hide her thoughts from Davrin and Lucanis walking behind her. But the line kept repeating, over and over.

Damn fine Crow.

Her breath hitched, and she bit down on her knuckles to stifle the sound. She didn’t want them to see. She didn’t want them to know how badly she needed to hear those words. How much she doubted herself—her worth, her leadership, her place in this shattered world. But Viago has praised her. He'd called me a damn fine Crow.

Her legs gave out. Rook stopped, crouching on the path, her face buried in her hands as the tears came. Silent at first, but then shaking sobs she couldn’t hold back. Her shoulders heaved, and she gasped for air, overwhelmed by everything she’d been carrying and those small words had cracked it all open.

She didn’t hear Davrin approach until his hand rested lightly on her shoulder. Lucanis crouched beside her, softer, concerned. “Rook,” he murmured. “What’s wrong?”

She couldn’t look at them, her voice muffled and raw. “Viago—he said I was a damn fine Crow.”

Davrin blinked, caught off guard. Lucanis let out a soft exhale, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “Of course he did,” he said, his voice low and sure. “Because you are.”

Rook cried harder.

[theic-manic]

I am an Apollo devotee and worship Athena...

So of course when I pray to them both about how my new role is one of those positions that some of the most intelligent colleagues I consider smarter than me refuse to do, so naturally I've been feeling huge impostor syndrome 2 weeks into it they get my trainer to compliment my intellect.

My trainer is someone who has trained leadership within my section and is also an accountant: "You're too intelligent for this role, and I love hearing you talk"

Thank you Apollo and Athena for supporting me during this intense time.

Thank you Aphrodite for assisting me in being likeable and even occasionally charming in the workplace.

Thanks Hermes for yet again helping me to communicate effectively, including educating HR on how to ensure that written content is accessible.

May you and Athena continue to accept my mundane acts of unwitting devotion. 🙏

[redesigningxmen]

REDESIGNING MIRAGE

That’s no mirage you’re seeing, that’s our group taking on Dani Moonstar, aka Mirage! One of the New Mutants from the 80s book, Dani has long been that team’s leader and served in different leadership roles. She’s most notable for being one of the X-Men’s most prominent Native American characters. Her identity is so central to her character, she refused to wear the standard New Mutants training uniform without adding pieces from her Cheyanne heritage.

Our team considered both Dani’s unique power - the ability to manifest someone’s greatest hopes or fears into realistic illusions - and her Indigenous background when redesigning her. Taking on a character so strongly rooted in such a specific - and non-White - culture meant approaching the design with respect, and of course always with an eye towards an exciting design!

Give all our talented artists a follow on social media!

Rake | @/pastelrake

"For Dani I drew on two prominent western themed pieces of media from my childhood. Firstly my father's favourite John Wayne film;  1965's The Sons of Katie Elder and secondly, the 1987 ridiculous children's cartoon BraveStarr. Both of these properties, whilst flawed, gave me a love of Americana/ Wild-Western aesthetics. With this in mind, I wanted to create a vintage-style western movie poster that centred Dani as the protagonist. In particular, I imagined her in the recognizable role of Sheriff, given her established characterization as a protector."

SSTArtwork | @/sstartwork

"I did two looks for Dani, one is more of a practical field uniform, with padded armour sections and oversized gloves. I've added an extra skill to her power set, as well as creating arrows and bows, she can now create a psychic vulture, which I envision swooping onto an enemy and ripping at the fears and drawing them out, or the desires, to varying effects. The second look is more Valkyrie based, with more opulent armour and headpieces harkening back to her initial days as a Valkyrie. In this state, all her powers are boosted and her bird becomes much larger, around about the size of a very large condor. She can use the bird as an aid in battle, for gliding, shields etc etc."

Alex Buckland | @/blueromanticss

"Dani's culture has always been really important to her so I tried my best to incorporate that into my design! "

Thwwip Stickers | @/Thwwip_Stickers

Dani is one of my top two most fave New Mutants and a character I’ve always loved in the comics my entire time as an X-Men reader ( since I was 6…I’m old lol)

"I had two Goals with this redesign.

I wanted to move Dani into a cyberpunk futurism feel…as I feel like it’s time for all the X-Men to be ushered into the age of CyberPunk.

I really wanted to grow Dani up. My goal wasn’t to do an entire redesign from the ground up, but rather take what she’s had and mature her. Dani, as well as most of the New Mutants, have a tendency to to revert or be written like teens again and it was high time that we start viewing Dani as the strong, mature, dynamic member of the X-Men she truly is.

I wanted to use style lines and shapes that evoked Indigenous Futurism without (seeing as I am not indigenous) just covering her in a bunch of patterns and regalia that might not be appropriate for Dani as a member of the Cheyenne Tribe. I wanted to really make her seem like a hunter while still honoring her indigenous and mutant roots."

[carionto]

We fail alone, we excel together

Formations are a staple of effective drills, training, and practice in every military across the Galaxy. They are a showcase of unity, leadership, trust, and loyalty. And fancy outfits. Gotta go for a style victory when actual wars are quite uncommon.

Humans are pretty good at this sort of thing. Not the best, as there is always some inconsistency, somebody doing their own thing, or improvising a solution to a fumble. Honestly, theirs are one of the more interesting to watch. It takes a lot of effort for some to conform to a herd style behavior, and it shows.

One time, a soldier tripped and was about to drop their knife, but thinking quickly, they began to juggle it, along with an ammo magazine and a sidearm they quickly pulled out. Aside from surprising everyone with their juggling skills, the surrounding soldiers noticed immediately, and, without a word, began to juggle with the same items as well.

But it wasn't chaotic - first, once the first loop was done, the soldiers in front, behind and to the sides of the first one started juggling in sync, and with each completed loop it spread the same way, creating this beautiful expanding diamond effect.

Not everyone was equally skilled, of course, and some ripples started to appear. However, since they all knew how long until the current parade music ended, the soldier in the center of the formation, not the original one, stopped juggling, and with each loop the inner layers also stopped. When the final corner soldiers put all the items in their place, the song also came to an end and a new one took its place.

Afterwards, we heard the colonel of that battalion issued an official reprimand for not following the rehearsed performance. Unofficially he praised them, as he himself had been approached by a general about this "surprise addition" and admired his "unorthodox thinking" and "proactive decision making". The colonel obviously lied and gleefully (well, as gleeful as a gritty military veteran with lofty ambitions can get) accepted the praise and promised to deliver other surprises in the future when they would prove most effective.

Big nonsense exchange of words that simply meant the soldiers doing all the actual doings would now have to actually prepare some kind of new and impressive feat. If there is one thing you can rely on, is higher ups turning everything you do into more work...

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Bryan Tyler Cohen (01.19.2025):

If you use TikTok, you’ll know that the app shut down last night. By this afternoon, if curiosity, rage, or nostalgia compelled you to re-open the app, you would have received a pop-up notification that read:

How miraculous. Trump swooped in as the white knight to save TikTok. Of course, this would carry a bit more significance if the whole debacle surrounding whether or not to ban TikTok hadn’t been started by…Donald Trump. Yes, the very same white knight. Seems unlikely? I encourage you to marvel at this montage of Trump repeatedly bragging about banning TikTok. In 2020, Trump signed an executive order effectively banning the app in the US. Any transactions between TikTok's parent company, ByteDance, and U.S. citizens were outlawed for national security reasons. In other words, we’ve landed here because Trump was the pilot. When TikTok posts issuing groveling praise for Trump’s leadership or presenting him as some savior, what’s conspicuously absent is a large disclaimer at the bottom, informing consumers that Trump was indeed the source behind the ban. Of course, no one in the media or at TikTok wants to acknowledge that reality, because part of the whole deal with bending the knee is agreeing to abandon, or at least ignore, your own principles in order to adopt whatever fabricated reality the Godking wants you to endorse. Just as Zuckerberg, Bezos, and Elon did, Shou Zi Chew (TikTok’s CEO) is offering Trump the effusive praise he expects. Make no mistake, he is fully on board the circus train. In fact, Shou will attend tonight’s Make America Great Again Victory Rally. Which is a solid reminder that we need to prepare ourselves for the following transaction, on repeat: Do Trump’s bidding; collect special treatment (until, of course, you become dispensable to him, at which point he won’t care if you go to jail, are sent to the gallows, etc. The entire big tech oligarchy got the memo; Shou and TikTok are just following suit. If you want to play in Trump’s America, you have to make a big show of your fealty, then sign on to perpetuate the gaslighting. That’s what happened today, and it’s what will continue happening, unchecked.

[...] What makes this whole sham sabotage even worse is that President Biden actually came out and said that he wouldn’t enforce the TikTok ban. And yet still, TikTok executed its whole big performative shutdown and went dark, only to bring the app back within 24 hours, branded with some effusive pro-Trump praise. Just another public spectacle of bending the knee. This whole thing—the disruption to service, the notices, the drama—was all just a calculated move executed for an audience of one: Donald Trump. That doesn’t mean that Democrats are off the hook here. Being so oblivious to the consequences of this very predictable play is not necessarily tantamount to being complicit, but we’re not going to get through the next four years without being a bit more savvy and prepared to call out these scams. 170 million Americans are on TikTok. It is monumentally popular, with many relying on it for their livelihoods and their source for news. Dems should have foreseen that voting to ban TikTok would be met with fierce resistance. And yes, they did it with the help of Republicans, and the vote was 50-0, but Biden signed the bill into law. Which meant that they handed Trump a perfect opportunity to swoop in and reverse the damage that HE had caused because as we all should know very well at this point, Trump is only in it for Trump and for receiving credit. How could anybody be surprised that that is precisely what happened here? Democrats need to understand the media environment and understand that it’s not enough to say “trust us,” because frankly, very few people trust the government. If you’re not going to factor this reality into account, then you can’t be surprised when you’re forced to contend with the consequences of it.

Serial arsonist Trump puts out the fire he helped set with his initial support of banning TikTok, only to reverse course.

[astraule]

"Forever With You"

Pairing: Neteyam x Reader Song: Alone In The Night - Sondre Lerche, AURORA “When you want me like I want you. We’re defenseless to our senses, to ourselves.” Tags: Fear of abandonment, mentions of suicide, past memories, arranged mating (marriage), mating, mentions of hard childhood, kissing. Y/N: She/Her Omaticaya reader, daughter of Tsu’Tey. Word Count: 1.2 K Translation: Tsakarem = Tsahik-in-training, Eytukan = Olo'eyktan-in-training, Tsamsiyu = Warrior, Iknimaya = Rite of passage for young Na'vi, Ikran = Banshee, Tanhi = Bioluminescent freckle, Oe txasunu nga = I love you, Yuey = Beautiful, Kuru = Neural queue. Summary: Tsu'Tey talks about leadership and ultimately decides that you and Neteyam should come together for the good of the clan, stressing the importance of family and your responsibilities. At the Tree of Souls, you get ready to bond as mates, exchanging warmth and laughter that showcases your deep connection. As you share memories and intertwine tendrils, the moment captures both your past and the future you envision together. In most cases, the conversation is Na'vi but any word in red is Na'vi and is a term I decided not to translate for effect. 

3RD POV: (High Camp)

Neteyam and you waited patiently for Tsu'Tey and his secondhand man, Jake, to end their talk. At last their discussion turned to the future of your clan: who was to fill what roles for the next olo'eyktan and tsahik. You knew that you were to be tsahik; you were already tsakarem. One question did remain, though: who was to be your mate, and who was to become olo'eyktan after Tsu'Tey? These were basic decisions in which the whole clan had a vital interest.

"There is only one worthy of this post, Jake," Tsu'Tey said as he looked him square in the face. "Hope they choose a hot one for you", whispered Neteyam in your ear. You were close over these years; it happened when your fathers worked together, one being an olo'eyktan and the other Toruk Macto.

"If you would do me the honor of joining our families, one of your sons will need to serve as eytukan," Tsu'Tey said, addressing the nomination for olo'eyktan in training. "My eldest son is the same age as your daughter and is a prepared tsamsiyu. My youngest, however, has not yet gone through iknimaya," Jake said, facing Neteyam and you. "Then let it be decided," Tsu’Tey said, now facing the two of you. "Neteyam and Y/N will be promised to one another for the benefit of the clan so that someday they will take their places as olo'eyktan and tsahik.”

You leaned in closer to Neteyam and whispered, "Looks like they chose the most charming Na'vi I know." His face turned such a lovely shade of blue.

(High Camp, Months Later)

"What's on your mind, Y/N? You seem troubled," Tsu'Tey said, approaching you and noticing you off your ikran. "I need to speak with you, Father. I know I don't hold much power in your decision-making, but being your daughter, I hope you can hear me out," you responded.

"Of course, you can tell me anything," he said to you now, all ears. "I want so desperately to be joined with Neteyam already. I know that we shall be together when the time is right, when we're both olo'eytan and tsahik, but I'm growing impatient. I fear I shall never be able to stand living in a world where my soulmate is almost dying every day. Father, let me have him before then."

A moment of silence passed, then he nodded his head and said, "I will speak with Mo'at and listen to her words. But we must listen to Eywa." "Thank you, Father. I really appreciate it," you said hugging him, as he laid a soothing hand on the top of your head. "You remind me more and more of her with each passing day," he finally said.

Moments like these, speaking to you like this, you knew your father longed for his true love Sylwanin. You were the only person he really loved besides her. He cared nothing for your mother, some faraway figure you had never laid your eyes on. She chose to relinquish you upon your father and then to take her own life further showed how she wished nothing to do with you.

Neteyam POV: (Tree of Souls)

There she stood in the beautiful colors of our clan surrounding her body, with multiple flowers surrounding her hair. If hometree was not destroyed this would’ve been done there with all of our people watching, but our fathers decided it would be better if they waited a few miles away. But there she stood, my bride staring at me with all the hope she could carry in her eyes. 

As I approached her, I half-expected the earth to swallow me up, but somehow I reached her side and clasped her hands in mine. “You look stunning,” I managed to say, my eyes tracing the vibrant hues of her robe. “You’re truly mesmerizing, though I have to admit I like the everyday version of you even more.” She lifted a hand to gently caress the paint on my face, accentuating my tanhì.

I sighed, “I guess I was never able to break free from my mother’s traditions that keep our culture thriving.” My gaze drifted to the flowers woven into her hair, appreciating every detail of her. “Same here, my father and Mo’at had a tight grip on me too,” she replied, her laughter ringing out, bright and infectious. Together, we gently lowered ourselves to the ground, still clasping each other’s hands as we knelt.

"Oe txasunu nga." She uttered, her stunning lips forming the words, enhanced by a blue hue that I assumed was from a berry Mo’at had found. “I love you even more, yuey.” I replied back to her.

I stared at her, my confusion clear on my face. "So... what happens now?" I asked, my expression revealing my inexperience. This was all unfamiliar territory for me. After all, I had never been mated before. My one and only mate was right in front of me, laughter spilling out as she let go of my hands. She leaned back, holding her stomach in delight, and a few flowers slipped from her hair.

She took my hands again, steadying herself as she cleared her throat and began to speak. “My father said we could take as long as we wanted; we could sit and talk before we joined our kurus together.”

I smiled as I sat down on the cool grass, holding her hands in mine, gently urging her to join me. “How about we share our thoughts while we intertwine our kurus? We can help each other navigate this experience. It’s just as new for you as it is for me,” I proposed.

She smiled brightly as she reached for her braid, allowing her tendrils to fall freely, and I did the same. “Do you remember our first real meeting? We were about 12, not quite kids anymore. Want to know what my mom said about you?” I asked, moving my kuru closer to hers as she nodded eagerly. “I just have this feeling that these kids are meant to be mates,” I added, and as our tendrils intertwined, a quiet moment enveloped us, prompting a soft gasp from her.

Gentle waves of her memories flooded my mind, each one clear and deeply felt. I saw her first memory being her mother’s face, Tsu’tey lifting her high for our people to admire, the bittersweet last moments with her mom, and all the precious times we spent together. As our kurus separated, my tendrils naturally brushed against her face, as if they had a mind of their own. I then moved my braid aside, bringing my hand up to her face instead, a soft gesture full of love.

As she opened her eyes, tears glistened at the corners. “Ma Neteyam, you’ve been through so much,” she whispered, her voice quivering. “Forget all that; just being here with you now makes those memories fade,” I said, softly brushing away her tears before leaning in to kiss her forehead, accidentally smudging some paint onto my lips.

She chuckled softly again, lightly brushing my lips, but I gently took her hand away. “No, don’t wipe it off. It feels like you’re taking away your touch, and honestly, I don’t mind a bit of paint on my lips.” I said, holding her gaze for a moment before she leaned in, pressing her lips to mine and leaving a bit of color on her own.

I dedicated two months to perfecting this piece, and I’m genuinely happy with how it turned out. I hope you enjoy it! With TikTok now banned in the U.S., I might start writing more often, so stay tuned for new content!

[dirtboy-merc]

mass effect: andromeda was not a bad game and i will DIE on this hill.

it was doomed from the start because of the original ME trilogy. like, how the fuck can you follow up on that? three games where we become attached to these beloved characters. more time to build up and flesh out a story (reaper story kinda sucks though not gonna lie) and ryder just had no chance when they're put up against shepard. ryder was an inexperienced kid who was barred from the alliance due to the AI research alec was doing, and then was thrust into a role of leadership with zero training. of course they're going to struggle and flounder, and OF COURSE they're going to try to be as diplomatic as possible. who wants to start a war immediately upon arriving in a new galaxy and your people are dying? they're not a 'goody-goody two-shoes,' they're just a kid trying to salvage this disaster they were thrust into after the loss of their father.

SAM gets a lot of flack too, just because he isn't EDI. i find SAM to be really charming and adorable. he's almost childlike in his evolution as he grows with ryder and their experiences together. i loved their bond.

yes, the game launched badly with glitches. yes, the facial animations can be goofy as hell (i personally adore it, they make me laugh) and yes, some of the writing is questionable. but it really wasn't the shitshow people make it out to be.

also the combat is hands down some of the best in the franchise, and even in the genre in general.

[serpentface]

what is the wardi zodiac system like? what's the worst and best signs, and how seriously do people take the stars youre born under?

Ok here's a full overview because I had this like 75% typed up already

The Wardi zodiac is a very direct interpretation of each constellation the sun passes through in its ecliptic over the course of the year. There is no attempt to divide these signs evenly throughout the year (as in the western zodiac), rather every single constellation the sun passes has its own zodiac sign (ie the sun only passes the tail of the Lion for about a week of the year, while the sun takes about a month to pass through the entirety of the Gull, making the former a significantly less common sign than the latter).

As such, there are 20 astrological signs in the base system (all of which are animals). Seven of the base signs correlate directly with the seven Faces of God (the zodiac system actually predated this religion, and some preexisting signs may have been retroactively modified to fit). All of these seven signs are considered auspicious and highly positive (though still ascribed some negative personality traits), and are seen as uniquely blessed by their respective Face.

One’s zodiac sign is assumed to be highly informative of their nature and personality. One’s birthsign is described as ‘(constellation)-born’, and the personality associated gains an epithet of ‘(constellation)-faced’. IE: Someone born under the sign of the ox is Ganops (ox-born), to have the personality associated is to be Ganmachen (ox-faced).

The faces associated with the birthsigns may be used as complimentary epithets in speech and verse when the sign is considered auspicious (ie “Lion-faced Faiza”/“Faiza odomachen”), or used disparagingly, especially “dog-faced” (chinmachen), a fairly common insult that describes someone as vicious and lowly.

A birthsign is taken very seriously within the Imperial Wardi cultural sphere, but does not necessarily have fundamental impact upon the average person's daily life. There can be social benefits and detriments associated- many people will want to avoid association with certain birthsigns, or will use them as a basis to judge character. Those in leadership positions may particularly benefit from having an auspicious sign or hiding an inauspicious one. If you exist in the public eye, your sign is extremely likely to come under scrutiny and invite judgments of character, or to add ammunition to other judgments (ie it is frequently noted when unpopular historical kings were dog-born).

They're also usually taken into account for marriage arrangements, as there are established senses of compatibility among the birthsigns. This is most prominent at levels of wealth where one can afford to be choosy about arrangements, but not so high that the arrangement itself is political in nature (thus superseding concerns about compatibility).

The most significance of one's birthsign in day to day life is in the context of astrology and of traditional medicine (a holistic practice that takes a variety of physical and spiritual factors into account). The position of the stars and other celestial bodies are considered to have very strong effects on the world and individuals, as an aspect of God's spirit and Its perpetual flow through the world (the Faces Mitlamache, Inyamache, and especially Kusomache preside most heavily over the movements of the heavens). The common person is unlikely to do a detailed consultation of the stars daily, but will often seek the services of an astrologer before making major moves or life changes, or to help identify sickness. Priests devoted to Kusomache are universally trained in astrology and often provide these services, as are most healers.

BASE ZODIAC SIGNS

Ox: An auspicious sign. Considered to be hardy in nature, patient, hard workers, slow to anger but dangerous when riled, blessed with natural physical strength. They are also regarded as exceedingly stubborn and prone to grudges. The constellation is seen as an ox kneeling at rest.

Lion: An auspicious sign. Considered to have excellent leadership qualities, a heroic and regal disposition, mental acuity, and blessed with natural talent as warriors. They may be overly proud and domineering, aggressive. The constellation is seen as a maned lion mid-stride.

Khait: An auspicious sign. Considered to have spirited personalities, a tendency towards romanticism, and blessed with natural athleticism and virility (in men) and susceptible to the influence of the sun. They are considered prone to over-competitiveness and lustfulness, chasing after whims. The constellation is seen as a leaping khait, with a bright red star as its eye.

Gull: An auspicious sign. Gull-born are considered worldly and knowledgeable, blessed with good fortune, but often somewhat foolish and slow to learn their lessons. The constellation is seen as a gull with its wings spread wide.

Serpent: An auspicious sign. Considered intelligent, quiet, philosophically inclined, good politicians and wise rulers, uniquely blessed with wisdom and uniquely susceptible to the influence of the traveling stars (planets, comets). They may also be conniving and prone to plotting, and make dangerous foes. The constellation is seen as a two-headed, coiling serpent.

Aurochs: An auspicious sign, distinct from ox-born but with some similar qualities. Considered are strong-natured, hard workers, and naturally inclined towards physical strength. They are also considered to be quick to rile and to have bad tempers. Believed to be blessed with especially good fertility and to be highly susceptible to the influence of the moons. The constellation is seen as a bull aurochs with lowered horns.

Duck: An auspicious sign. They are considered wise and thrifty, graciously mannered, excellent romantic partners and parents, blessed with fertility and beauty, but often disorganized and unreliable, naive. The constellation is seen as a duck upon the water.

Horse: Considered docile and nurturing, honest, drawn to poetry and art. They may be overly anxious and dependent on others, regarded as a feeble-natured sign. The constellation is seen as a grazing horse.

Hare: Considered to be cunning, independent, jovial and friendly, but cowardly and avoidant of consequences, lacking in proper respect. The constellation is seen as a running hare.

Dragon: A sign based off a legendary animal that flies and hunts in thunderstorms, with a beaked mouth, horns, the neck of a snake, and body of a hawk. Considered egotistical, demanding, and prone to mood swings, likely to lead a tempestuous life, but a good ally to compatible signs who can match their energy. The constellation is seen as a dragon in flight.

Dog: Usually considered an inauspicious sign. Dog-born have strength in cunning and loyalty, and are considered aggressive but cowardly, often foolish and greedy, lustful, unambitious. The constellation occurs at the foot of the Hunter constellation, identified as either a loyal hunting dog following its master or a lowly scavenger looking for scraps.

King Hyena: Somewhat inauspicious, but given many respectable qualities. They are considered to have powerful and commanding personalities and natural talent as warriors. They are characterized as tyrannical in positions of power and prone to theft, often untrustworthy, brutally pragmatic. The constellation is seen as a stalking king hyena, low to the ground.

Leviathan: Considered somewhat slow-natured and quiet, closed off in personality and difficult to know. The constellation is seen as a swimming leviathan.

Rat: A somewhat inauspicious sign. Considered to be clever and frugal, very sociable, good with business, but ascribed a ruthless low cunning and greediness. The constellation is seen as a rat standing on its hind legs.

Gazelle: Considered gentle natured, emotional, easily worried and pessimistic, avoidant of conflict. The constellation is seen as a leaping gazelle.

Polecat: Considered to have a brave yet foolhardy and carefree nature, often to their own detriment. The constellation is seen as a polecat in the act of the war dance.

Scorpion: A less auspicious counterpart to the serpent as having a potentially treacherous and duplicitous nature, but pragmatic and hardy, thoughtful and quiet. The constellation is seen as a scorpion with its tail arched.

Crow: Largely inauspicious, associated with crows as negative omens. Characterized as intelligent but with a low, cynical and opportunistic nature and a tendency to hold pointless grudges. The constellation is seen as two crows in flight.

Catfish: Considered to have a hardy, simple personality, great patience and wisdom. The constellation is seen as three catfish trapped in a dwindling pool, awaiting the rains.

Pheasant: Considered naturally beautiful, confident and self-assured, foolish and egotistical, prone to vanity. The constellation is seen as a pheasant with a trailing tail.

Main character birthsigns:

Palo: dragon

Tigran: hare

Couya: crow

Faiza: lion

Janeys: dog

Brakul: ox

Hibrides: catfish

[shantechni]

The reason I think of 2012 Donnie as being the third oldest isn't entirely because of how Raph messes with him, or his strong middle child energy that repeatedly makes itself known, or how Leo and Raph are more invested in their training than him and Mikey, or how he interacts with Mikey in a way that he doesn't with the others.

It's because of how easily he's swayed and influenced by his brothers.

Donnie is often seen as the type to ruminate extensively over what would be the right thing to do and how to do something the right way, a habit that Leo is well known for exhibiting as well. This is best exampled by when he got on Mikey's case for not properly defending against seoi nage. Even though Mikey's manner of fighting and defending are effective, it's not satisfactory to Donnie because it wasn't the proper way of doing things.

And, on Leo's end, we see it best exampled by him wanting his brothers to do things 'the right way' instead of 'their way'. It's something the two occasionally have to be reminded not to do, both to others and themselves, but getting things done in a manner that's expected of them is something they take pride in. It ties in with Donnie's ceaseless desire to be accurate about things, not because he necessarily needs to, but because he likes to be accurate and it's important to him on a personal level.

This goes hand in hand with Donnie exuding a strong sense of responsibility that not even Raph displays too often unless Leo is out of commission. We see this a lot in how he usually sticks by Leo when patrolling or surveying a situation, where as Raph and Mikey tend to hang back and fool around while counting the minutes.

Beyond that though, Donnie held Splinter's words in high regard when he told him Timothy was his responsibility, and he sided with Leo about bringing the mutated squirrels to the lair, the complete opposite of Raph and Mikey who were vehemently opposed to the idea. He worked ceaselessly to create retromutagen for Kirby and Karai, and he ran himself ragged working to find a cure for the Shredder's brain worms. There was no guarantee that he would've ever figured these out, especially after many failed attempts (and he never could create a cure for the worms), but he stuck to the tasks he assigned himself because he felt a strong responsibility to aid those he cares for and wanted to keep his word.

Just like Leo.

Of course he gets quite a bit of that from Raph as well, but it's as clear as a window recently lathered with windex that Raph had a much bigger influence on Donnie's temperament. He easily gets agitated under stress, or no stress whatsoever as we saw when he blew up over something as small as Mikey spilling popcorn on him, and he complains quite a lot or is quick to snap when things aren't going his way (yet another thing Raph does).

More than the tendency to dish out sarcastic comments and insults like it's Halloween, they're also the only ones to doubt Leo's leadership and they don't hold back one bit. Raph may be the most vocal, but Donnie exhibited leader tendencies long before the S2 finale and, like Raph, isn't fond of being told what to do if it doesn't align for him. The internal conflict in Follow the Leader was heavily instigated by Raph not wanting to fight like Leo, with Donnie all too easily falling into step with him and convincing Mikey to follow suit for a brief stint. It's moments like these that puts Donnie's desire to do things the right way on the back burner and brings forth his desire to do things his right way.

The biggest thing, or person, that made Donnie go back and forth between Leo and Raph though, was Karai.

When Donnie is first introduced to her, he immediately dislikes her for her carefree nature that puts those around her in a dangerous situation, as well as her lack of regard for anyone other than herself. And then, when Leo reveals that she's in the Foot, he has all the more reason to dislike and distrust her, something that everyone agrees on to albeit varying degrees.

Funnily enough though, when Karai tries to form an alliance with the turtles to fight the Kraang, Donnie, despite him preaching about her not being trustworthy minutes prior, sides with Mikey when Leo looks to them for an answer while Raph still remains suspicious of the situation.

Then, when Karai approaches them and claims to believe Splinter is her father, Donnie sides with Leo, despite his previous misgivings about her in The Manhattan Project Part 1. Him and Raph were the most outspoken about her upbringing and current place in their lives as a villain as they grappled with the fact that she's Splinter's daughter. But this time, he wholeheartedly believed her and trusted her to some extent, and he's as shocked as Leo and Mikey when she confesses to them. Her moment of betrayal was just enough for Donnie to go back to Raph's side and question Leo's desire to find and rescue her. The two don't want to bother with her anymore, but they still follow their leader when it's clear that Leo isn't changing his mind.

Even though I just chronicled Donnie flip flopping between Leo and Raph, I did also mention him siding with Mikey on one instance, and their long story with Karai wasn't the only one. When they get pulled into an alternate dimension reminiscent of feudal Japan with an anthropomorphic rabbit as their only guide, they have to rely on Usagi while aiding him on his journey with Kintaro, but Leo gets fed up with his leadership being undermined (as well as being thrust into trouble they didn't ask for) and orders his brothers to follow him while they find a way out of this dimension. Mikey is the first to speak up about how dangerous (and idiotic really) Leo's idea sounds since they're in unfamiliar land, and Donnie immediately says Mikey's right, showing that he also wasn't keen on traversing with no clear destination in sight. They were better off trusting Usagi.

Knowing when to trust someone isn't the only way Mikey influenced Donnie, as he also directly and indirectly encourages Donnie to think outside the box whenever he's struggling to figure something out. Of course there's the obvious one of learning how to fight without thinking, but there's also Mikey's habit of using unconventional means to reach an intended result, as well as him easily pointing out the obvious without the intricacies and convoluted mess of a situation distracting him from it.

What is arguably the most interesting influence Mikey had on Donnie was learning to give someone a second chance when they've wronged you the first time.

Mikey put this on display when Slash returned during S3 in the fight against the Kraang. Though things seemed fairly neutral towards the end of Newtralized!, Leo is immediately wary of and angry with Slash appearing before them after their last two run-ins with him, something Slash expresses guilt over and apologizes for. Leo is still antagonistic and distrusting towards him when the Mutanimals make it clear they're on the good side, but Mikey comes forth and tells his brother that everyone deserves a second chance to prove themselves, and this is Slash's second chance. Leo doesn't want to ally himself with Slash, but Mikey's insistence is enough for him to put aside their differences and prioritize Earth.

And Donnie does the same for the Fugitoid. When it's revealed that the black hole generator was his creation, the Fugitoid emphasizes as much as he can that he regrets creating the device and handing it over to beings who only wanted to abuse its power, but Leo is again the main one to doubt him, with Raph seconding him. Donnie leaps in to put out the fire, preaching exactly what Mikey stated a season ago about giving someone a second chance, and April and Mikey jump in to back the Fugitoid up. Leo is unfortunately too stubborn to heed their words, though he doesn't attempt to force anyone on his side either. Donnie had absolutely no reason to try and convince Leo other than the fact that the Fugitoid has been helping them this whole time, and was honest with them about his previous mistakes.

He didn't have to tell them the truth, but he did, and that was all Donnie needed to believe they weren't being used by the Fugitoid.

There are likely other instances of the guys pulling Donnie in a direction different from the one he'd typically choose, and Donnie occasionally exhibits similar behaviors to Mikey when the youngest turtle is convinced to say or do something he otherwise wouldn't. But, for me personally, all of this supports the idea of Donnie being the third oldest and a middle child.

[speakersyouneedllc]

Communication Strategies for Military and Civilian Teams: The Role of Training

When soldiers and non-soldiers collaborate in a military-environment, effective communication is not simply a plus; it’s necessary and must occur so that the mission could succeed or fail in a battlefield or other support roles. Definitely, this every time indicates that this area of communication can only be achieved through specialized training. The main focus of this blog is to demonstrate why military civilian personnel written communication training is important and how it helps enhance team effectiveness.

Special Military-Civilian Team Communication Challenges

Military and civilian personnel usually emanate from diverse backgrounds, many of which have their own language, jargon, and even styles of communication. These differences can easily cause miscommunications that may range from mere delays to complete mission failures if not managed effectively. Military civilian communication training is purposed to span these gaps by making the personnel from both groups work in tandem.

The Role of Written Communication Training

Written communication should clearly be part of the military process, where orders, reports, and briefings are supposed to be clearly understood with precision. Military-civilian personnel written communication training focuses on developing skills whereby it helps the team members to:

Write Clearly and Concisely: The training puts forth the message that all languages should be crystal clear, not using jargon that others may not understand.

Structure Information Effectively: This is quite important for the proper flow of written text, especially in documents such as operation plans and briefings.

Tailor Messages for the Audience: Understanding such demographics or groups and corps such as military and civil personnel would assist in the improvement of written communication.

Enhanced interpersonal communication results from interpersonal training

Where writing plays a crucial role, equally in combined military-civilian staff interpersonal skills are vital. Such areas as active listening deal with military civilian personnel communications training to these needs.

Conflict Resolution: Lecturer: Hence, conflicts may at times arise from how we communicate. The training makes the personnel able to address them in a non-conflicting way and maintains the culture friendly.

Intercultural Communication: Every organisation that is involved in any form of international undertaking needs to be culturally sensitive. Training takes the staff through these differences, thus disarming cooperation, and teamwork.

The Contribution of Presentation Skills to Joint Operations

Another important skill for both military and civilian employees, as well as for officers and civilians, for people who are in leadership positions, for people who are producing products, and for people who are delivering products, is the ability to communicate succinctly, the ability to be both informative and convincing when briefing commanders, presenting information to stakeholders, or discussing strategies when being a part of a joint task force personnel. When training military civilians’ personnel presentation skills training, the following aspects are of focus.

Confidence Building: Speaking in public is a little scary, even more, if one has to speak in front of important audiences. The training will empower the personnel to have self-confidence when speaking and how to speak with fluency and conviction.

Mastering Visual Aids: Several presentations are made clear by the use of other appliances like the use of slides and charts. It through training that the use and creation of the such tools is facilitated.

Engaging the Audience: The audience can only grasp all the vital information that makes the headlines if they are compelled to pay attention. Focusing is a key area that training avails to the trainer with ways to capture the attention of the intended audience.

Conclusion

However, it is as we have discussed communication is the major success in the military and as well for civilian institutions. In the area of written and interpersonal communication and presentation, which is a critical process in the course of military and civilian undertaking, multiple difficulties that are realized due to the contrast in training history, as well as experience in other tasks, are likely to be mitigated. Personnel communication training with military-civilian personnel is the basis for a more actual and effective team that can solve any issue.

[hiddenincommand]

The Authority of Voice: Commands That Demand Obedience

An Alpha’s voice is his most powerful weapon. It is through his voice that he commands respect, enforces discipline, and asserts his dominance over all who stand before him. Unlike subordinates, who may rely on volume or aggression to make themselves heard, the Alpha needs neither. His voice is calm, measured, and deliberate, yet it carries an unyielding authority that silences defiance and compels obedience.

This essay explores the nuances of vocal authority, the techniques an Alpha employs to master his tone and delivery, and the psychological impact of a voice that demands not just attention but total submission.

The Historical Importance of Vocal Command

Throughout history, leaders have used their voices to inspire, command, and dominate. From military generals addressing troops before battle to monarchs delivering decrees, the power of the spoken word has shaped the course of empires. For an Alpha, his voice carries the weight of tradition and hierarchy, embodying the authority of those who have led before him.

In military contexts, a commanding voice has always been essential. Officers were trained to project authority through their tone, ensuring their commands were understood and obeyed, even in the chaos of battle. A voice that could cut through the noise was a mark of leadership, discipline, and control.

The Symbolism of the Alpha’s Voice

An Alpha’s voice is not just a tool for communication—it is a projection of his inner strength and dominance. Every word he speaks reinforces his position at the top of the hierarchy.

Key Symbols of the Alpha’s Voice:

1. Authority: A controlled and deliberate tone leaves no doubt about who is in charge.

2. Discipline: The precision of the Alpha’s speech reflects his mastery over himself and his surroundings.

3. Confidence: A voice that is steady and unwavering commands respect and admiration.

4. Control: The Alpha’s voice compels obedience without the need for aggression or repetition.

The Alpha’s voice is a reflection of his character—strong, disciplined, and unapologetically dominant.

Mastering the Alpha’s Vocal Presence

The power of an Alpha’s voice lies in its delivery. It is not enough to have a deep or loud voice; the Alpha must cultivate a tone and cadence that communicate his authority in every situation.

Key Elements of the Alpha’s Voice:

1. Tone: The Alpha’s voice is deep and resonant, conveying strength and confidence. It is never shrill or uncertain.

2. Pace: He speaks slowly and deliberately, ensuring every word carries weight. Pausing strategically creates an air of thoughtfulness and control.

3. Volume: The Alpha never needs to shout. His voice is calm but firm, its authority felt even at a lower volume.

4. Clarity: Every word is enunciated with precision, leaving no room for misunderstanding or defiance.

The Alpha’s voice is as carefully honed as his physical appearance. It is a tool of dominance, wielded with intention and mastery.

The Psychological Impact of the Alpha’s Voice

The Alpha’s voice exerts a profound psychological influence on those who hear it. Its tone, cadence, and delivery create a sense of authority that is impossible to ignore.

Psychological Effects:

1. Intimidation: The controlled strength of the Alpha’s voice makes subordinates feel small and powerless, discouraging resistance.

2. Admiration: The precision and confidence of his speech inspire respect, reinforcing his position as a leader.

3. Submission: The Alpha’s voice compels obedience, conditioning those beneath him to respond to his commands without hesitation.

The Alpha’s voice is not just heard—it is felt, leaving a lasting impression on all who experience it.

The Role of Silence

Silence is as important as speech in the Alpha’s arsenal. Strategic pauses, deliberate silence, and a refusal to speak when unnecessary amplify the power of his voice.

Why Silence Matters:

• Builds Tension: Silence forces others to focus on the Alpha, waiting for his words.

• Asserts Control: By choosing when to speak, the Alpha maintains control of the conversation.

• Amplifies Impact: When the Alpha finally speaks, his words carry even greater weight.

The Alpha understands that his voice is most powerful when used sparingly and with purpose.

Using the Voice as a Tool of Discipline

The Alpha’s voice is not only a tool for commanding respect but also for enforcing discipline. Whether addressing a subordinate or delivering a reprimand, the Alpha uses his voice to maintain order and reinforce hierarchy.

Techniques for Disciplinary Speech:

1. Low, Controlled Tone: The Alpha speaks calmly but firmly, leaving no doubt about the consequences of disobedience.

2. Direct Language: Commands are clear and unambiguous, ensuring there is no room for interpretation.

3. Measured Reprimands: The Alpha never raises his voice in anger. Instead, his tone conveys disappointment and authority, making the punishment feel personal.

The Alpha’s voice is a weapon of discipline, wielded with precision and intent.

Sir Cedric’s Reflection

For me, my voice is my greatest tool of authority. Its deep resonance, deliberate pace, and controlled tone ensure that my commands are always obeyed without question. When I speak, I do so with purpose, knowing that every word carries the weight of my discipline and dominance.

Silence, too, is a part of my arsenal. I have learned that saying nothing can sometimes be more powerful than a thousand words. My silence creates an atmosphere of anticipation, forcing those beneath me to hang on my every word when I finally choose to speak.

Now, I ask you: Does your voice command the respect it deserves? If not, cultivate it. Refine your tone, master your delivery, and let your words become the tools of your dominance.

Speak with purpose, command with authority, and let your voice define your power.

[rideboomindia]

Can you provide more information about RideBoom's mentorship programs for women drivers?

RideBoom's mentorship programs for women drivers are designed to provide them with the necessary skills, knowledge, and support to succeed in the ride-hailing industry. The programs are structured to address the unique challenges that women drivers face and aim to empower them to achieve their professional and personal goals. Here are some key aspects of RideBoom's mentorship programs for women drivers:

One-on-One Mentoring: RideBoom offers one-on-one mentoring sessions between experienced women drivers and new women drivers. These sessions provide an opportunity for new drivers to ask questions, seek guidance, and receive feedback on their driving skills, customer service, and business acumen.

Regular Workshops: RideBoom organizes regular workshops and training sessions for women drivers, covering various topics such as safe driving practices, customer service, and business management. These workshops provide a platform for women drivers to learn from industry experts, share their experiences, and build their skills and confidence.

Online Resources: RideBoom provides online resources and webinars for women drivers, offering them access to a wealth of information and knowledge. These resources cover various aspects of the ride-hailing industry, including marketing strategies, financial management, and time management.

Mentorship Network: RideBoom has established a mentorship network of experienced women drivers who can provide guidance, support, and encouragement to new women drivers. This network enables women drivers to connect with one another, share their experiences, and build lasting relationships.

Leadership Development: RideBoom's mentorship programs also focus on leadership development, equipping women drivers with the skills and knowledge necessary to take on leadership roles within the company. This includes training on effective communication, problem-solving, and decision-making skills, empowering women to become leaders and mentors themselves.

Collaboration with NGOs: RideBoom collaborates with non-governmental organizations (NGOs) that support women's empowerment and gender equality. These partnerships enable RideBoom to reach a broader pool of women candidates, provide additional resources and support, and promote gender diversity in the ride-hailing industry.

Flexible Learning: RideBoom's mentorship programs are designed to accommodate the busy schedules of women drivers. The programs offer flexible learning options, including online courses, webinars, and in-person training sessions, allowing women drivers to learn at their own pace and according to their schedules.

Continuous Support: RideBoom's mentorship programs are not limited to a specific period. The company provides continuous support to women drivers throughout their journey, ensuring they have access to resources, guidance, and mentorship as they grow and develop their skills.

Feedback and Evaluation: RideBoom regularly seeks feedback from women drivers to evaluate the effectiveness of their mentorship programs. This feedback helps the company identify areas for improvement, tailor their programs to meet the unique needs of women drivers, and ensure the programs' continued relevance and impact.

Inclusive Growth: RideBoom's mentorship programs aim to promote inclusive growth within the ride-hailing industry. The company's initiatives help women drivers overcome barriers to entry, create new opportunities for themselves and other women, and contribute to the industry's growth and success.

By providing these mentorship programs, RideBoom demonstrates its commitment to supporting women drivers and promoting gender diversity in the ride-hailing industry. The company's efforts aim to create a more inclusive and equitable work environment, ensuring that women drivers have equal opportunities to succeed and achieve their professional goals.

[robininthelabyrinth]

The Other Mountain - ao3 - Chapter 28

Pairing: Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan

Warning Tags on Ao3

———————————————————————-

Wen Ruohan had long since passed the point of ever admitting that he was afraid.

His vanity would simply not permit it. After all, he was Wen Ruohan, the sect leader of the mighty Qishan Wen, the near-god, the would-be tyrannical ruler of the cultivation world. He had outstripped all others, his cultivation perfected far beyond what any of the rest could achieve. Perhaps it might have once been acceptable to be afraid when he was younger, when he was just one among many jockeying for position and leadership, but once he’d passed his first lifetime, he’d left such petty human things as fear far behind. Such feelings were as far beneath him as ants to a giant.

He would, however, admit to having some…concern regarding the upcoming battle with Qingheng-jun.

Other people might be able to comfort themselves with the presence of an army at their command, thinking to themselves that they would be able to simply overcome their enemy through force of numbers, but Wen Ruohan did not permit himself any such illusions. Qingheng-jun might be insane, Wen Ruohan had no doubt about that, but he was still immensely clever: he would not let himself be caught out in a bad position like that, taken by surprise.

He’d find a way to force a one-on-one fight.

And given Wen Ruohan’s current condition, it would be a fair fight, the likes of which Wen Ruohan hadn’t known in decades.

Qingheng-jun was after all an accomplished cultivator, talented and promising, and unlike the majority of such cultivators, who got weighed down with the worldly concerns of night-hunting and sect business and married life, he had spent ten solid years in seclusion focusing on nothing but growing his power and refining his techniques. He was much younger and less experienced than Wen Ruohan, to be sure, with much less time to have built up his power and knowledge –  but Wen Ruohan, for all his own immense innate talent, was one of those cultivators that devoted much of his time to worldly affairs. He had always cared very much about making sure his sect took its rightful position as first in the world, and furthermore he had used up too much of his spiritual energy fighting the landslide; although the level of his internal strength had not been damaged, it would be months before he recovered enough qi to make proper use of much of it.

The prospect of such a duel would have been different if Wen Ruohan was still at the height of his own power, capable of miracles. If that were the case, even Qingheng-jun with his ten years of unbroken seclusion would pose no real threat to him. But as it was, there was every chance, in his weakened state, that the two of them would balance out in terms of strength. Nor did Wen Ruohan have any advantage in terms of temperament: they were both ruthless, both cruel, even vicious, meaning that false appeals to morality would be insufficient to distract Qingheng-jun long enough to win an advantage, the way they might if used against others.

A fair fight indeed.

Wisdom and experience against youth and promising talent – that was always a tricky match-up. Only fate could say who would come out ahead in the end.

This particular match-up was also particularly pernicious to Wen Ruohan. As a master of arrays, he relied more on having spiritual energy in his fighting style than most cultivators, since arrays and talismans both required ample spiritual energy to use effectively. In contrast, Qingheng-jun was a cultivator that specialized in the sword; while swordplay benefited from the use of spiritual energy, it was in the end a sword – failing everything else, it could always be used simply to stab one’s opponent.

Wen Ruohan could use a sword, of course. What cultivator couldn’t? But it wasn’t his preference, and he was a Wen, innately self-absorbed and self-indulgent – although he didn’t completely neglect his swordplay, he hardly trained in it with the consistency that Lan Qiren did, as reliable as any clock even with his second choice in weapon. On the contrary, Wen Ruohan always played to his strengths: whenever possible, he would much rather use his arrays, relying on his brilliance and his techniques, refined over the years to near perfection, than anything else.

Only this time, he couldn’t.

Wen Ruohan’s most powerful weapon, the black sun, was absolutely out of the question at the moment. It was an immense power, but an equally immense drain, and it fought against him as much as it did the rest of the world that it so thoroughly scorned. If he tried to summon it now, when the question of who would win that battle was murky and unclear, he would only be risking his own doom, and quite possibly that of the entire world. Naturally that was unacceptable – Wen Ruohan might be ruthless and tyrannical, but he wanted to rule the world, not destroy it. Moreover, he was an orthodox cultivator, not some sort of demonic cultivator that fueled their own power upon the deaths of others; carelessness, or even recklessness, with the state of the world would only damage his cultivation and make the bad result he feared even more likely.

Of course, the black sun was far from being his only weapon. He had his usual arrays, and plenty of less usual ones, but even with those, he would need to be measured with their use in a way he’d long since grown unaccustomed to. With limited spiritual energy available, he would have to dole them out sparingly, wisely, and supplement them with his sword – an unfortunate combination that pitted his weakness against Qinhgeng-jun’s strength.

In other words, a match against Qingheng-jun would be like fighting with one hand tied behind his back.

As a result, Wen Ruohan was…appropriately cautious. Not afraid, of course, but wary, vigilant, concerned. Presupposing nothing, not even victory.

He was less concerned now, after last night.

Lan Qiren had been – magnificent.

It was only to be expected, naturally, as no one that Wen Ruohan had chosen to give his heart to would be anything less. And yet, even with that in mind, he could safely say that his expectations, already high, had nevertheless been surpassed in every possible respect. Even Wen Ruohan with all of his many years of experience could definitively say that he had never experienced anything like that before.

It wasn’t just the sex, though that had been excellent as always, or even the unusual intimacy of bedding someone he felt he could genuinely trust and who genuinely trusted him – even if he just focused purely on the practical, the results of their dual cultivation had vastly exceeded anything Wen Ruohan might have anticipated. Lan Qiren had tackled dual cultivation with the same facility with steep learning curves that he’d applied to learning about politics or sex, and as a result, the power they’d been able to generate from it, the power they’d both shared…! Their cultivation techniques were not the most naturally compatible, but they had made it work, and oh, how very well it had worked!

Wen Ruohan was certainly nowhere near to being back to where he had been before he had blown all his spiritual energy on destroying the landslide, but he was confident that Cangse Sanren’s estimate of half a year or more to regain his power had been reduced considerably, and all over the course of a single, highly enjoyable evening. An evening that could be repeated in the future, both before he regained his power and yet again afterwards, finally giving him a chance to see if Lan Qiren’s exceptionally pure golden core would have any sort of effect on increasing his own power beyond the point that he had managed to get by himself…

The simple fact of the matter was that Wen Ruohan loved power, and always had. He had many times been accused of loving it more than anything else, whether wives or children or even sect, and he had to admit, though never aloud, that there might be a grain of truth in that accusation. To have two things he loved together, power and Lan Qiren both…it was as heady an aphrodisiac as he could imagine.

(Also, Lan Qiren’s reaction to finding his own power so substantially increased had been just as funny as Wen Ruohan had been anticipating. He had no regrets about sharing the power equally between them, and nothing would change that, no matter how many complaints of But it was supposed to go to you! or Surely you know I do not have a need for it or even the plaintive But how do I make the glowing stop?! Lan Qiren made.)

Even the song Lan Qiren had written for him had been beyond anything Wen Ruohan had anticipated.

The sound of it had been nothing like anything he was expecting, to the extent he’d expected anything. He’d assumed, he supposed, that the music Lan Qiren wrote with him in mind would be much like his reputation: intense but gloomy, moody and temperamental, unstable and vicious, possibly even somewhat discordant, the lurking insanity slipping its leash and showing its face to the world. Only it had slipped his mind that Lan Qiren, perhaps alone in the world, did not see him that way – and so the song was something else entirely.

It had been intense, to be sure. But it had been striking and grandiose rather than miserable, the music immediately and immensely compelling, extremely complicated in a way that made it impossible to pay attention to anything else, music that thrummed beneath the skin and swept the listener away with its enthusiasm. It was powerful and moving, it filled the ear with joy and sped the pulse with excitement. Listening to it evoked the feeling of being on top of the world – of being the best, of knowing you were the best, of being unrestrained by fear and doubt. Of being free of all the shackles of the world and knowing yourself to be capable of miracles.

It was Wen Ruohan’s beloved Wen sect’s self-esteem – many would say self-love – distilled into its purest form.

But it wasn’t just that. Underneath that exuberance and enthusiasm, the music had a foundation as steady as Lan Qiren’s unshakable principles, turning self-regard into self-assurance, into a bone-deep understanding that in the end you were purely yourself, nothing more nor less, and could be nothing else – and that that was all that you needed to be.

It married irrepressible confidence in the self to implacable surety of the self, and turned them together into power. Into impossible, unstoppable force, which broke down all barriers in its path.

Just like the two of them.

Wen Ruohan had never been the most musically inclined. He’d had a gentleman’s training, of course, and knew both how to appreciate good music and play an instrument if he were called upon to do so. Given his innate brilliance and quick learning capacity, he could even pull off a few tricks of musical cultivation if he really needed to. But it had never been a strength, and with art just as with cultivation, Wen Ruohan always played to his strengths. As a result, music had never been more to him than an enjoyable pastime at best. It had never made its way into his heart, never seized hold of it, the way it seemed to do for musicians.

He’d assumed it never would.

Well: he was wrong.

He could admit it, and joyfully, because what he’d gotten in return was so much better than being right.

Ah, Lan Qiren – Lan Qiren – Lan Qiren, who loved him, who trusted him, who saw him and saw everything he liked about himself, and who in return asked only to be treated with equal regard, to be loved as he loved, as if Wen Ruohan would ever have been able to do anything less –

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

For once, Wen Ruohan did not startle or lash out in paranoiac terror in response to someone having snuck up on him without him noticing – but only due to years of experience at being snuck up on by this particular person.

“And I suppose you, Lao Nie, are here to be irritating,” he remarked, much as he always did, turning his head slowly to regard his…former lover, he supposed.

There was a sharp stabbing pain in his chest when he looked at Lao Nie now, even though the man had exchanged the stormy expression of the discussion conference in favor of his usual relaxed grin, going back to being carefree and careless the way he always was. There was no sign of the emotional turbulence that had put him in such a bad mood, every indication wiped away and hidden, Lao Nie going back to pretending that nothing was wrong and never had been because that was how he had always dealt with the knowledge of his impending untimely death.

But Wen Ruohan knew the truth. He knew what was coming, and how much sooner than expected it was due, even though Lao Nie hadn’t shared that information with him. It hurt him to know it. Not as much as it hurt Lao Nie, who was the one actually dying, he knew that, but it was still pain nonetheless, and as a narcissist Wen Ruohan admittedly tended to rate his own pain as being more important than others.

Seeing Lao Nie here, now, brought up all sorts of uncomfortable feelings.

Seeing him now, here…

Wen Ruohan abruptly frowned. “Why are you here? Did Cangse Sanren reach you so quickly?”

That seemed temporally implausible, if not completely impossible. Qinghe was far too far away – no one could fly that fast, not even him.

“No, I was on my way to Lanling already,” Lao Nie said cheerfully, which made a great deal more sense. “I bumped into Cangse Sanren while she was on her way out of the city and I was on my way in. Don’t worry, we swapped tokens: she gave me her pass to get through your army and into the city, and I gave her my sect leader’s sigil so that she’ll be able to order everyone back at home to collect those cursed coins in my stead. There’s no problem with your plan.”

It was annoying how reliable Lao Nie could be when he wanted to, Wen Ruohan reflected. That was the deceptively alluring part of him. He just knew Wen Ruohan so well – he could tell at a glance exactly what his concerns were and immediately speak to alleviate them.

He made everything easy.

“I’m here to help you find Qingheng-jun,” Lao Nie continued, his smile fading into seriousness. “If he’s trapped in Lanling City, he’s definitely going to go to ground somewhere difficult to reach with multiple people, try to force you into a one-on-one fight that would be more to his advantage. You and I are the only ones I can think of that would be strong enough to match him like that without getting slaughtered. With me here, we can check the possible places twice as fast.”

Like he’d said: with Lao Nie, everything was easy.

It had always been so easy.Easy, easy, easy – right until it was so difficult as to be impossible.

Like winning Lao Nie’s heart, or his loyalty, or his trust, or becoming anything more than just a casual friend that sometimes shared his bed. And not because of any lack on Wen Ruohan’s own part, any paucity or failure in his own feelings or even actions, but simply because Lao Nie simply lacked the capacity to be more than a friend to anyone.

Except maybe his saber.

Wen Ruohan didn’t even pretend to begin to understand how that worked.

“That’s right,” he said, and picked the easier path of not saying anything just yet. Lan Qiren was the one who always chose the harsher and more virtuous path, not Wen Ruohan. He’d wait until Lan Qiren was back and let him raise the difficult subject with Lao Nie, and then, if he had to, he would step in and forcethe man to let them help. “You are very welcome. Do you want to start on the west side of the city or the east?”

“The north, of course, while you take the south. You’re remarkably accommodating today, Hanhan; normally you’re much more possessive about these things! Here I thought I’d have to fight you first just to get a chance to help. Qiren must have put you in a really good mood.”

Not a good enough mood to deal with this.

“I sent Qiren away to Gusu Lan to deal with the coins, and I want to get this finished before he returns,” Wen Ruohan said shortly, and Lao Nie’s growing smirk disappeared at once, meaning that he understood the implication. Which meant that Wen Ruohan didn’t need to explain, but he did anyway, just to make sure that the message had been fully made clear: “The last time they met, Qingheng-jun decided that the taboo against personally murdering blood relatives was beneath him. He tried to kill Qiren. That will not happen again.”

No mercy this time.

“Understood,” Lao Nie said, solemn and serious as he so rarely was. “Understood and agreed. Don’t worry, Hanhan, you can count on me. The Nie sect’s motto is Do not tolerate evil no matter where, remember? Same thing applies when it’s who.”

Wen Ruohan inclined his head in agreement. If there was one thing that could be said for Lao Nie, it was that he was a consummate member of his sect. No evil meant no evil, no matter where, no matter who – just as he had been willing to turn against Wen Ruohan when he’d thought him beyond the point of saving, so too would he turn himself against Qingheng-jun, who had once been his friend.

His friend, and his source of guilt.

Lao Nie was as ruthless and careless with himself and his own heart as he was with anyone else’s, that much was true. Somehow that fact did not help in the slightest.

“Happy hunting,” Wen Ruohan said, and even meant it. Perhaps abiding by his sect’s principles would help Lao Nie the way abiding by his sect’s rules did Lan Qiren.

As for Wen Ruohan, he didn’t bother with such things. Rules and principles were both equally overrated – he didn’t need anyone else’s guidance, only his own; he would make his way in the world through the path he forged himself, and never doubt it for a moment. He mounted his sword and flew off to the south of Lanling City to begin surveying the possible places Qingheng-jun could be hiding.

The number of places was naturally limited, both by his (and Lao Nie’s) guess that Qingheng-jun would look for a place that would allow him a one-on-one fight and by Wen Ruohan’s own army, currently marching through the city and investigating every nook and cranny for those cursed coins. They had all been instructed to light flares if they saw any sign of Qingheng-jun, or alternatively if any number of their squads were drawn off and killed unexpectedly – that would be the first sign of him, more than likely, unless Wen Ruohan happened to get lucky and find him first.

He would prefer, if at all possible, to get lucky. His soldiers might not mean as much to him as his precious sect disciples, who in turn were not as important as his even more valuable family, but they were still his, and everything that was his was better than everything that wasn’t. Everything good under the sun should belong to him.

Now: where could Qingheng-jun be…?

Wen Ruohan could create a tracking array, look for any sort of bolt-hole where there were restrictions on entry. But who knew how many such places existed in Lanling City? Lanling Jin was full of rats that thought themselves vipers; every sub-branch probably had a secret treasure room and a secret armory and whatnot – and Qingheng-jun wouldn’t go find one of those, anyway.

No, he had too much dignity for that.

Wen Ruohan could understand that. Who wanted to risk losing your life in some stupid pointless little treasure room?

In fact, it occurred to him that he was thinking too small. Why search for him building-by-building like some common person? Let him use that same logic: where would Qingheng-jun be willing to have some sort of climactic final battle?

Qingheng-jun was remarkably similar to Wen Ruohan in many ways. He had a profound sense of his own dignity, enough that others would call it vanity, and he would never be willing to associate his name, whether in victory or defeat, with somewhere tawdry – and Jinlin Tower was full from head to toe of all that was gaudy and tawdry.

Especially to someone with a Gusu Lan sensibility.

After all, like it or not, hate it or not, Qingheng-jun had been born and raised in the Gusu Lan sect. Even when he turned against it, despised it, thought he had abjured it in every respect, he had still been shaped by it. Despite everything, he was unable to wholly give up the mindset it had inculcated in him, the principles it had taught him. If he had, he wouldn’t have been so concerned about seeking to implement a fitting punishment for all those he blamed for his wife’s death, rather than merely getting revenge – and he wouldn’t have been so invested in seeking to reform the sect in his own image, rather than destroying it. To implement new rules over the old, rather than to truly break free of the notion of rules entirely.

Gusu Lan, and Wen Ruohan: those two things together formed a very particular personality, with very particular preferences. So…where would Qingheng-jun go? Where would someone accustomed to the clean, gentle lines of the Cloud Recesses voluntarily choose to hide when trapped in this filthy pit of gold and greed?

Ah, of course.

The gardens.

Wen Ruohan might not the most devoted swordsman, might not be particularly notable as a musician, but he vastly preferred either of those subjects over the discussion of things like flowers – and yet, despite that, he had somehow spent a not-inconsiderable portion of his time over the past hundred years listening to the endless rounds of debate between Lanling Jin and Gusu Lan regarding whether gardens ought to retain their natural wild and austere beauty or be tamed into gorgeous wanton snarls of petals and color pieced together by human ingenuity. His Nightless City had established several gardens of each type just to avoid having that particular debate come up ever again, but the other sects still persisted in defending their preferences.

In a fit of completely characteristic pettiness, the Jin sect leader of several generations back – further back than Wen Ruohan could recall, which was saying something – had set up a single garden in Lanling City that was modeled after Gusu Lan’s preferred style, presumably to make the point that no one would possibly choose such a thing if they had the lush gardens of Jinlin Tower as an alternative option. The people of Lanling City had fulfilled this particular sect leader’s desire, leaving that particular park largely abandoned, although whether the people’s preference was a genuine aesthetic choice or merely the wisdom of not disagreeing with their local overlord had always been an open question.

It had been named, very snidely, the Paired Birds Promenade.

Yes: Wen Ruohan could see Qingheng-jun going there.

It would be just right for someone as self-important and overly dramatic as him.

(It wasn’t hypocrisy to say as much, Wen Ruohan informed the rather rudely goggling Lan Qiren in his mind. He’d never denied his flaws – he merely did not acknowledge them to be flaws when they were his own.)

And because Wen Ruohan was unquestionably brilliant, he found Qingheng-jun exactly where he expected to.

“I find it difficult to say whether it should be called vanity or arrogance,” Qingheng-jun said, almost as if he were continuing the conversation Wen Ruohan had been having in his own mind. He was standing on a lonesome hill towards the eastern end of the gardens, shaded by a scholar tree – he had a particularly heroic bearing at the moment, his pale blue robes and his hair lightly ruffled by the wind as he gazed out into the distance. “Coming here by yourself, I mean.”

“Did I rob you of the chance to show off your talisman work?” Wen Ruohan asked idly, stepping off his sword and onto the ground, feeling the circle of restriction that he’d expected to find snap immediately into effect, keeping anyone from joining them and making it an unbalanced fight. It was a good one, irritatingly enough. As he’d expected, he would find no obvious weaknesses here. “I’m not inclined to waste my soldiers for such a purpose.”

Qingheng-jun turned to regard him, his expression cold and indifferent. His face was oddly dissimilar from Lan Qiren’s, despite the strong resemblance of their features, both classic exemplars of the Lan style – Lan Qiren’s expression was often neutral, often flat, but rarely cold, and never indifferent. He was warm beneath his seemingly remote façade, the heat from his fiery temper and passionate heart always present even when he tried to suppress them. Qingheng-jun, by contrast…

There was nothing there.

“I would have thought that you’d think it a worthwhile trade if it meant wearing me down before we fought,” Qingheng-jun said, his logic pristine and ruthless, cold as any mountain snow. “Soldiers’ lives are meant for spending.”

His lip curled up in a sneer. “Or is it that my younger brother would disapprove of such a maneuver that now restrains you…?”

“Wrong on all counts. As much as I respect Qiren, for once his opinion was irrelevant to my consideration,” Wen Ruohan said, enjoying the way Qingheng-jun’s eyes narrowed at the praise of his brother. “You forget: my soldiers are mine, and are therefore more valuable than anyone who isn’t. Their lives may be for spending – but you think too much of yourself if you think I would bother to spend them on you.”

Qingheng-jun pressed his lips together briefly, but did not lose his temper.

“Tell me,” he said instead, voice slow and thoughtful. “What is it about him?”

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows, even as he waved his hand, letting his sword leap into his hand. “You mean Lan Qiren?”

Qingheng-jun inclined his head in agreement.

“You shall have to clarify. What about him?”

“You said that you…respect him.” Qingheng-jun sneered once again, the expression twisting his otherwise handsome face. “The so-great Wen Ruohan – I hadn’t realized that you respected anyone but yourself.”

“Myself and my family,” Wen Ruohan corrected. He’d always been quite clear about his partiality to his own clan. Like any good descendant of Wen Mao, he rated his clan above the rest: the sun in the sky above all had been his ancestor’s motto, proud and arrogant, and Wen Ruohan was only the most successful of his descendants, not necessarily the most ambitious. They were all like that.

“Yourself and your family – and my brother. Apparently.”

“And your brother,” Wen Ruohan said agreeably. “Apparently.”

He chuckled at the aggravation on Qingheng-jun’s face and meandered forward, his pace slow and steady, as if he were merely here to stroll in the park. Even his sword dangled from his hand, lazy and bored – apathy and indolence incarnate, his sloth simultaneously genuine and a deliberate insult to anyone he was facing.

“Does it really bother you so much?” he asked, though he knew it did.

“I merely wish to understand,” Qingheng-jun said. That was a lie, and they both knew it – do not tell lies, but of course Qingheng-jun considered himself above such things. “Only…why him?”

It was a good question.

Good, and also incredibly stupid.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Wen Ruohan admitted freely. “But that’s not how love works. Don’t you know that best of all…?”

He saw from the look on Qingheng-jun’s face that that strike had hit true.

“Or maybe I’m mistaken, perhaps you don’t,” Wen Ruohan concluded, a smirk curving his lips. “After all, from what I understand from Qiren, you couldn’t even live up to the lowest of his expectations for a son of Gusu Lan.”

Qingheng-jun scoffed. He was still pretending that he had the upper hand in their conversation, that he felt secure in his superiority over Wen Ruohan’s temporary weakness – but where his cleverness and ruthlessness might have worked time and again against Lan Qiren, with one very notable exception, it was nothing against Wen Ruohan.

Wen Ruohan knew him.

Not because he’d ever bothered to get to know Qingheng-jun personally. But rather because in Qingheng-jun, Wen Ruohan could see himself, and Wen Ruohan knew himself very well indeed.

“My brother does not set the standards of Gusu Lan,” Qingheng-jun said. “He is not sect leader. I am.”

Now it was Wen Ruohan’s turn to scoff.

“Do you really believe that?” he asked. “A name does not make a thing. Intent is meaningless in the face of action; the only thing that has ever mattered, in any context, is who actually does the work. It’s as true for sect leadership as it is for anything else – a sect leader is the one who leads the sect. A father is the one who molds the children. A husband…”

He laughed.

“Never mind. You wouldn’t know what I’m talking about.”

Qingheng-jun’s expression was ugly. “You mock me!”

“Have you only just now noticed?” Wen Ruohan said, now taunting openly. “And people say Qiren is bad at understanding others…of course I’m mocking you. Should I respect you? You? You, who are only here to die? You, who couldn’t even pull off a simple plan like kill them all properly…?”

Qingheng-jun drew his sword.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to guess at once what you were doing?” Wen Ruohan asked him. “Me? The only difference between the two of us is that you are pathetic.”

“You know nothing about me,” Qingheng-jun said, voice cold as always, and attacked.

Wen Ruohan immediately lifted his own sword to block that first shatteringly powerful blow, feeling the cold of Qingheng-jun’s frost echo through his blade as he did. He brought his other hand up, summoning the array he’d kept dancing at the tips of his fingers and casting it into Qingheng-jun’s face.

As he’d expected, Qingheng-jun was too clever to fall for that – he’d known some sort of attack like that was coming and he countered immediately, casting a handful of talismans out and activating them at once, letting them take the hit that had been aimed at him, and following that action up with another strike of his sword.

His swordsmanship really was beautiful.

Such a waste.

Wen Ruohan was forced onto the defensive, using his sword to block the blows that were coming fast and hard, Qingheng-jun’s surprisingly vivid blue crackling against his own black.

“Foolish,” Wen Ruohan said, despite that. He’d been in far too many battles, and under worse circumstances, to let a strong opening unnerve him. “I am the only one who knows you. The only one who can know you.”

He meant it, too.

Wen Ruohan had been where Qingheng-jun was now. He’d fallen to the lowest point a man could go – he had lost everything, he had lost everyone. He had been tormented by the losses that had been caused by his own hand as well as those of others. He had been overwhelmed by suffering, suffused by it, drowned in it, and as a result, quite logically, he had gone insane. For all that his own isolation had been social rather than literal, as Qingheng-jun’s had been, Wen Ruohan too had found himself alone for far too long, painfully and completely alone. Of the people who had filled his life and his heart as a young man, there was not a single one left…

Like Qingheng-jun, Wen Ruohan had been a selfish man to start with. Being alone, being in pain – it had twisted him, made him cruel, made him indifferent, made him lash out at those around him, those reminders that life somehow went on even when his own felt as though it had stopped. His apathy had grown by the year, eclipsing everything else, eating away at his memories of joy and of excitement, until all those things that had once made life worth living were long forgotten. Until the only thing that could bring him pleasure was sating his sadism, making others hurt to see how they struggled and yearned to live, warming himself with that echo of feeling.

Oh yes – Wen Ruohan knew all too well what Qingheng-jun was going through.

He knew also that many of Qingheng-jun’s grievances and resentments were justified, or at least justifiable, whether they were against his sect, against the world, against uncaring fate and luck itself. He knew, because he had felt that way, too. He, and he alone, could understand.

He could sympathize, he could empathize.

He just didn’t care.

Wen Ruohan had been in Qingheng-jun’s position, yes. But he’d made it out again on the other side, because he was better.

“Did you do it?” Qingheng-jun asked him, casting out his sword in a gorgeous move, surrounded by swirls of spiritual energy that were as lovely as they were deadly, dancing around him like eddies of wind – Wen Ruohan was forced to dodge, retreating to the side before lunging forward, trying for a counterattack that Qingheng-jun deflected.

Not easily, Wen Ruohan could see Qingheng-jun’s arm shaking with the force that Wen Ruohan could put behind his blows, but successfully nonetheless.

Wen Ruohan quickened his pace, trying a different style of attack, fast rather than powerful, but Qingheng-jun met him head-on, his sword moving just as fast as Wen Ruohan’s, his steps just as sure.

The cold wind at the top of the mountain, blowing around every obstacle.

Lovely.

Such a waste, such a waste…

“Did I try to kill everyone, you mean?” Wen Ruohan asked, twisting the fingers of his free hand into a series of hand seals, setting up another array even as his sword clashed with Qingheng-jun’s. “Of course not. If I had, you would know. Or not, as it might be – you would be just as dead as the rest.”

“Not that.” Qingheng-jun bared his teeth at him. “Did you murder your first family?”

He matched the words with a pointed strike, all of his power behind it.

Wen Ruohan reached out and caught the blow with his free hand, redirecting the spiritual energy he’d been using to set up the array into the power he needed to protect his flesh from Qingheng-jun’s steel.

The way nothing would protect him from Qingheng-jun’s words.

“Yes,” he said, wrapping his hand around the sword to hold it, and Qingheng-jun, in place. “Though I did not mean to.”

He brought the array that he’d been working on earlier up all at once, forcing it into existence, and Qingheng-jun let out an involuntary shout as it opened up beneath his feet.

Now it was his turn to have no choice but to dodge, redirecting his own spiritual energy as a defense, pulling his sword out of Wen Ruohan’s grasp and leaping backwards into the air.

Wen Ruohan went after him.

“My first wife betrayed me,” he said, settling into what had once been his preferred fighting style, attacking with both hands in turn, array in one and weapon in the other. “And I betrayed her in turn, one after the other until there was nothing left between us but loss. In time, the two of us destroyed everything that we had ever made together.”

Even their children.

Wen Ruohan hadn’t meant for that to happen. He didn’t think his wife had, either, though of course by that point she had lost too much of her reason to really understand the depths of what they had lost – he’d done that to her, however accidentally. That was the cost of betrayal, the greatest cost. Losing his family had always been the one consequence that he had never been able to forgive himself for causing. The cost of his betrayal.

Just as his betrayal had also cost him Wen Ruoyu, the brother he had loved so much.

Wen Ruoyu had been the only sibling Wen Ruohan had ever really cared about – and he’d had many, brothers and sisters both. Wen Ruoyu was the one younger brother who had genuinely seemed to like Wen Ruohan, who had followed him voluntarily, the one who Wen Ruohan had permitted to follow him, however unwise it had seemed to be at the time. Wen Ruoyu had tagged along in his every step, had adored him and supported him and who Wen Ruohan had adored and supported in turn. As they had grown older, grown stronger, they had challenged each other to surpass their limits, and they had done so marvelously, exceptionally, unexpectedly. The two of them together had been unstoppable: able to overturn every obstacle in their path, blazing through the skies like twin suns, burning away the haze of the world.

If only Wen Ruohan had believed in him as fully as Wen Ruoyu had believed in him – if only he hadn’t let himself be blinded by his ambition, led into folly through his own weakness – if only he hadn’t lost track of what really mattered – if only, if only, if only!

“And then I went mad, of course,” he added matter-of-factly. “There is a point after which it is by far the most straightforward option.”

It was only very recently that he had been able to crawl out of the pit he’d fallen into.

Lao Nie had been the first to help him find his way. Fight evil no matter where, in his own inimitable style, though perhaps Lao Nie had not thought of it that way, driven as he was by his own self-destructive attraction to everything that could bring him harm, wrestling with the knowledge of his sect’s poisonous self-sacrifice and his own impending premature death. Whatever his motivations, he had forced himself into Wen Ruohan’s increasingly empty life, with his intriguing mixture of ruthlessness and joy, supreme selfishness and selflessness in one, his irrepressible humor and charm. He had coaxed Wen Ruohan first into curiosity, and from curiosity into enjoyment. He had shown him the way forward. No, more than that – he had pushed him down the first step on the road of having to actually live rather than merely survive, and for that, Wen Ruohan owed him.

Before Lao Nie, Wen Ruohan had very nearly let go of everything. His apathy had grown to such an extent that not even anger or pain could move him – as best exemplified by his new marriages, bloodless and political, nothing more than a means of getting him closer to his goal of ruling the world, of putting his sect above the rest. After his family had died, he had refused to remarry for so many years, for decades. He had even declared the subject of them taboo, and brutally executed anyone who so much as mentioned them, however obliquely.

And then he’d just…forgotten.

Those cousins of his who had hoped to take advantage of his unmarried state had all grown old and died, waiting for their turn; their children, his new advisors, had not known anything but his never-ending rule, as endless as the blazing light that filled his Nightless City at every hour. They had suggested that he marry in order to consolidate his power, and not seeing any reason not to, he had done so – not once, but twice. He had promised his wives sons and positions of power, and he had delivered on his promises. And then he had looked away from those sons, unable to look to closely at them lest he see the shadows of the ones who had preceded them. He had justified it by telling himself that he would make it up when they were older, when they were interesting, when they were grown men and fully formed people and like him. He had treated them as either prospective enemies, to be held distant for lack of trust, or else as extensions of himself, limiting himself to loving them as he loved himself, a safe and complete love. He hadn’t been able to do anything more.

He had been, though living, more dead than alive.

Lao Nie had been the first step on the road back to himself, but he hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t been willing to step onto the road with Wen Ruohan, to walk alongside him for that whole journey, the two of them together side-by-side, equal in their commitment to each other. He hadn’t been willing to go so far as to pledge loyalty and fidelity and trust. It hadn’t been his fault: Wen Ruohan, as he had been when Lao Nie had first encountered him, had not been worthy of trust, benumbed and accustomed as he was to treachery; he had expected it in everyone and far too often found himself justified, and he responded by being even more treacherous in turn. It would have been a very bad idea for Lao Nie to have trusted in him back then.

And yet…it had changed, in time. He had changed. He had started to find his way back, to rebuild the human that he had once been out of the god he’d nearly become, had changed into something different, into someone who wanted more. Someone who wanted those things, love and trust and the harsh pains of those emotions just as much as their easy joys.

But he hadn’t told Lao Nie about it. He hadn’t ever asked the other man for what he wanted.

He hadn’t wanted to be told no.

Just as Lan Qiren wasn’t a man made for lust, Lao Nie wasn’t a man made for love. He loved, yes, but only as a friend loved, not as a lover did. Not for him were the exquisite agonies and ecstasies of that type of love, a complete and consuming love, viciously possessive and exclusive of others, as much mutual obsession as anything else.

And yet Wen Ruohan hungered for exactly that type of love. For love, and faith, and trust – and then he’d found it, however unexpectedly, in Lan Qiren. Who was, no matter what his brother tried to claim, the purest example of a Lan of Gusu Lan, a man who always strove to live up to that which his sect aspired to.

Rules and righteousness, and a madman’s loving heart beating steadily behind it all: that was Lan Qiren from beginning to end.

And Qingheng-jun had asked Wen Ruohan to explain.

As if such things could be explained.

Wen Ruohan sneered and lifted his sword, bringing it down in a strike of his own, his spiritual energy blisteringly hot, the power of it seething and boiling with fury.

Qingheng-jun threw himself to the side to avoid it.

“Well done, Sect Leader Wen,” he said, after, glancing back at the devastation that had been left in the wake of Wen Ruohan’s blow, the furrows in the earth and the blackened corpses of flowers and bushes that had caught fire. He had a swordsman’s appreciation for the art, if nothing else, and beneath all that madness, he really was a consummate gentleman: he would not withhold his praise when it was justly earned. “It seems you retained more of your power than I had heard.”

“Retained? Regained.” Wen Ruohan laughed. “Thank your brother for that!”

Qingheng-jun’s brow furrowed.

“He hates you, you know,” Wen Ruohan told him, relishing the words. The Lan Qiren that existed purely in Gusu Lan had barely been able to admit that fact to himself, however true it had been; his Lan Qiren, in contrast, had accepted it and moved past it. He was far better a man than either Wen Ruohan or Qingheng-jun could ever be. “You pushed him too far this time. There is no coming back from this, no peace to be had, no compromise possible. The two of you can no longer exist under the same sky…I’m here for him, not for you. I am the instrument of his will.”

“Will is will, power is power. As you yourself said, intent is not action.”

“No, but intent gives rise to action.” Wen Ruohan smirked. “Come now, you’re far from young and naive. Gusu Lan may be full of prudes, but even Qiren had heard of dual cultivation before.”

“You…” Qingheng-jun’s eyes almost bulged. “With him?!”

Such a reaction was strange, and perhaps a little sad, Wen Ruohan reflected. He himself had wanted to dual cultivate with Lan Qiren and yet had nearly discounted the possibility, so certain was he that Lan Qiren would refuse to do such a thing with him. And yet here was Lan Qiren’s own brother, his own flesh and blood, the Wen Ruohan to Lan Qiren’s Wen Ruoyu, and he thought that Wen Ruohan ought to have been the one reluctant to dual cultivate with Lan Qiren.

“I did,” he confirmed, and nearly laughed again at the puckered expression of distaste and disapproval on Qingheng-jun’s face. Now there was one who wouldn’t have done such a thing even if his wife had liked him enough to agree. He clearly couldn’t even conceive of rendering himself so vulnerable to another person, to give himself to another without reserve. “It was glorious, just as he is.”

Qingheng-jun’s expression of distaste did not change.

Unfortunately, the perfection of his sword forms did not falter, either, and he really was a better swordsman than Wen Ruohan. Wen Ruohan was keeping up, the arrays he could summon his best weapon as always, supported by his experience in fights such as these, but he wasn’t winning. There was a reason he kept up the conversation, goading and hunting for weaknesses, looking for a way to throw Qingheng-jun off his equilibrium, and they both knew it.

Well, if such a way existed, Wen Ruohan hadn’t found it yet.

He knew that Qingheng-jun hated Lan Qiren, hated the Lan sect, but it wasn’t enough. Lan Qiren, simply by virtue of being himself, could cause far more damage to his brother’s psyche than Wen Ruohan could with all his taunts and jabs. He’d explained the full circumstances of their conversation to Wen Ruohan before he’d left, hoping to arm him with everything he could, and it had been all that Wen Ruohan could do to keep from laughing out loud when he’d realized that it had been Lan Qiren’s misplaced empathy that Qingheng-jun hadn’t been able to tolerate. Pity from a hated enemy, condescending comments from someone you thought had won over you, someone you thought was rubbing their victory in your face…

Amazing.

Completely accidental, of course, but amazing.

Was there any way he could use that?

“Tell me,” he drawled. “Do you really think of Lan Qiren as some sort of – ”

What had been the term Cangse Sanren had used?

“– some sort of seductive vixen?”

Qingheng-jun’s next blow went wide. Wen Ruohan took advantage at once, pulling back to catch his breath and take stock of his reserves – arrays required more energy than swordsmanship, and doing both was taxing. He’d recovered quite a lot from where he had been, but he was far from his peak; he needed to conserve his strength where he could.

“I really have to wonder about that. I mean, have you met him?” Wen Ruohan shook his head pityingly. “He is rather dreadfully boring, isn’t he?”

That was part of the wonder of him. Lan Qiren was boring, a rule-abiding stickler, a stern moralist, a monotonous old teacher despite his relative youth, but that wasn’t all he was. He was passionate and complicated, a mix of contradictions, a war within himself, all things within himself.

Even the boring parts of him were interesting.

“Quite good in bed, though. I assume it’s a natural gift, that ability to steeply climb learning curves and gain mastery over a subject…especially since it was quite evident that he came to my bed a virgin.”

Another strike that didn’t quite reach where Qingheng-jun wanted it to.

Because, of course, Lan Qiren coming to Wen Ruohan untouched meant that he really hadn’t done what Qingheng-jun had thought he had, his younger brother betraying him in bed with his wife, replacing him after he’d made such sacrifices – such unasked-for sacrifices, though it was clear Qingheng-jun had never thought of them that way. Everyone always saw themselves as the hero in their own story.

Only it was getting harder and harder for Qingheng-jun to pretend, even to himself, that he was anything but the villain here.

Wen Ruohan was getting close, he could feel it. Qingheng-jun’s swordsmanship was good, exceptionally good, and if he were anyone else, anyone other than the man who had hurt Lan Qiren, then Wen Ruohan might have entertained thoughts of trying to recruit him. He’d always valued talent, had always appreciated art no matter what form it was in, regardless of being its target. He was even willing to forgive terrible crimes for it, heedless of the cost – but only when the cost was to himself, or to his sect, or to the world.

Not to Lan Qiren.

No, there would be no way out of this for Qingheng-jun. Wen Ruohan was not going to hold back his blows, wasn’t going to try to recruit him, wasn’t going to show him any way out.

He was going to kill him.

Just as soon as he could figure out how.

He just needed a little bit more –

“He wrote me a song, you know,” Wen Ruohan said suddenly, motivated by some unknown instinct. His memory of little Lan Wangji’s face, maybe, all screwed up in distaste as he reluctantly made the suggestion, or else Lan Xichen looking so childishly appalled at the idea of such a thing, ameliorated only reluctantly when Lan Wangji had reminded him that they were already married – Gusu Lan were such musicians, really. Though he wasn’t sure whether such a thing would make an impact on a swordsman like Qingheng-jun…

“He what?!”

Apparently it would.

“How dare he – he wrote you a song – ”

Qingheng-jun’s blows were getting wilder and wilder. More powerful, but that had always been the risk of the game Wen Ruohan was playing. Qingheng-jun had been keeping him mostly on the defensive, or else letting him have openings that he then closed immediately – Wen Ruohan’s current approach was simply not working. He knew it, he accepted it, and he wasn’t so prideful that he would resist change just for the sake of doing so.

He needed to get Qingheng-jun off-balance just long enough to figure out something new.

“Of course he did,” he said, keeping his tone light and casual, echoing Lao Nie at his most unbelievably irritating. “Isn’t that what musical cultivators like him do? Write songs? I wouldn’t think it was that unusual – ”

“Why does he get to have a song?!” Qingheng-jun shouted, and –

Ah.

So that’s what it was.

“He’s never been my equal, never,” Qingheng-jun spat out, and Wen Ruohan could see the madness in his rage-reddened eyes now. “He was just an afterthought, a left-behind, a remnant – he shouldn’t have even existed! I had two younger brothers before him, only a few years younger than me, both of them talented and good, and they were all the sect elders needed, spares just in case something happened to me. If only they hadn’t died! If they had lived, my parents would never have felt obligated to try again for another, and Qiren would never have been born. My mother wouldn’t have needed to take medicine to have him, wouldn’t have weakened her health for him, wouldn’t have ripped herself apart at the birthing bed and gotten sick and died because of him – ”

“Blame your sect for that,” Wen Ruohan said. “Oh, wait. You already do.”

Qingheng-jun wasn’t even listening. “When she died, she took my father with her. It was only a living corpse that remained sect leader after that. All the burden came to me. All the responsibility, all the expectations, everything, and all the while Qiren could go on untroubled, dull and slow and fumbling and boring and nothing. Nothing worthy of that sacrifice, of either of their sacrifices. And yet…”

“And yet he gets to have the song,” Wen Ruohan said knowingly. “He gets to have that once-in-a-lifetime love, the type of love that haunts you and possesses you and drives you to extremes of destruction and creation both. The love you never had.”

Qingheng-jun’s next blow left nothing but wreckage in its wake, but Wen Ruohan was already long gone.

“It’s only to be expected from him, really,” he said, and let his voice drip with pity thick as syrup, as much of it as he could conjure. It wasn’t for nothing that Lan Qiren had dubbed him the second most obnoxious man in the world. “After all, Lan Qiren is everything that he should be – a true Lan of Gusu Lan.”

And that was it, that was the difference.

Not the difference between Qingheng-jun and Lan Qiren. Wen Ruohan wasn’t the sort of person who thought that everyone ought to follow their sect mottos blindly, thinking that there was only one way to live up to what they were meant to be; such an idea was restrictive and ridiculous. He himself was far from the true ideal of Qishan Wen, with his quixotic focus on arrays instead of swordsmanship or medicine, though he was still his sect’s true-born son, just as ambitious as anyone in his family, as arrogant. It had been Wen Ruoyu who had been the real outlier: possessive but willing to share, a collector of trinkets and people rather than strength or influence, sociable and generous rather than standoffish and arrogant, a spearman rather than a swordsman, lacking even the slightest traces of medical talent, disdainful of the trappings of duty or the temptations of power, lacking ambition for himself but avidly loyal to those he loved.

By any family standard, Wen Ruoyu had been completely unfit for the proud surname Wen.

Yet Wen Ruohan would have killed anyone who said that, anyone who might have suggested that his differences meant Wen Ruoyu wasn’t among the best their sect had ever produced. Not only would he kill over such an insult, he had, and often enough, too.

No, it wasn’t the difference between Lan Qiren and Qingheng-jun: it was the difference between Qingheng-jun and Wen Ruohan.

They’d both gone mad, after all. They’d both turned cruel and vicious, lashing out at the world that had robbed them of their rightful due, that had turned against them after all they had done for it. They’d both been driven by somewhat justified grievances until they’d gone too far and committed crimes with their own hands, both of them having fallen into the pit of despair, of apathy and malice and madness.

But where Qingheng-jun had thrown away everything that mattered, rejected family, friends, sect, wife, and even principle, Wen Ruohan was different.

Wen Ruohan, even when he had had nothing else, had always had his sect.

Even when he’d lost everything else, even when he’d forgotten the reason for his own existence, even when he longed to destroy everything around him just to make it all go away, he hadn’t actually taken that final step. He’d been Sect Leader Wen by then, and he’d always taken that seriously. His actions reflected on his sect, his actions defined his sect: all boats were lifted by the same tide, and sunk by the same hurricane.

If he led them to victory, they would benefit. If he led them to ruin, they would suffer.

His sect was his responsibility.

His sect was his.

All good things in the world ought to be his, the world ought to be his – and that meant he owed it a duty of care in return.

Wen Ruohan loved himself. He was vain, narcissistic, self-absorbed. He saw his sect as an extension of himself, and just as he knew himself to be the best, the finest cultivator in the cultivation world, nearly a god, so too did he know that his sect was the best. The facts did not matter, the truth did not matter, nothing mattered, nothing but his certainty of that fact.

He knew his sect was the best – and if they weren’t, it was his duty to make it true.

No matter the method, as Wen Ruoyu had always said with a grin. As long as you win, no matter the method…

No matter the method.

That was it.

That was it.

What was he doing?

Wen Ruohan spared a moment to shake his head at his own foolishness. Going up against Qingheng-jun sword against sword – he’d known he wouldn’t be able to win that way, but he’d been reckless as always, arrogant as always, counting on his arrays to carry him to victory as they always had. But he wasn’t as strong as he’d been, wasn’t able to fight with just arrays rather than with array and sword both, and he wasn’t as practiced at fighting from a position of weakness as he had once been, either. He had grown lazy in his apathy, sitting back and letting his power do the fighting for him, letting his army or his influence or his control of so many sects move the pieces for him.

He'd need to fix that, going forward. He should spar more often, with Lao Nie and Lan Qiren and others; he should bind his own power, cut off his own excessively strong cultivation, and practice fighting that way, to make sure he gave himself a real challenge.

There was no way for him to win like this.

So…why fight like this?

Just because it was expected? Because it was convention?

Does the sun care for the expectations of the earth? Wen Ruohan had asked Yu Ziyuan, laughing at her. I have never restricted myself for the sake of others. Why would I start now?

They’d been talking about marriage, but what was true for the marital was just as true for the martial.

Wen Ruohan laughed out loud.

Qingheng-jun startled at the sound of it, pulling back warily – thinking that Wen Ruohan was up to something, no doubt, and he’d be right to think so, too.

Wen Ruohan contemptuously threw aside his sword, letting it clatter to the ground. And in its place, he summoned another weapon entirely.

“A spear?” Qingheng-jun asked, clearly surprised. “Since when do the Wen fight with a spear?”

Wen Ruohan spun the spear around in his hand, and found it as warm and welcoming to him as it had ever been, without the slightest hint of rancor or anger despite how long it had been since he’d wielded it. The spear was called Zhencang, and it had been Wen Ruoyu’s spiritual weapon, the one he had made his name with all those years ago. It had been because of this spear that he had begged and bullied and bribed Wen Ruohan into learning how to use a spear at all, pestering him every morning and every evening until he begrudgingly agreed to practice with him.

More than practice – to adjust his own style, his footwork and his reach and his thinking, to match it.

There were many similarities, he’d found, between arrays and spears. Both were weapons of longer distance, excelling in middle-range attacks with greater reach and greater leverage rather than close melee that was the domain of the sword, and both could be used to devastating effect against those who were less familiar with them.

Wen Ruohan hadn’t used Zhencang since the day his brother had died, but neither had he left it behind. It had been habit more than anything else to bring it with him, the remnants of a long-ago vow that he had once made to himself. His brother had been alive and free, never confined, and so too would his spiritual weapon be – not for his brother’s spear was the lonesome fate of the cold treasury room, not ever, not even if Wen Ruohan never wielded it again in his life.

He’d forgotten.

He remembered now.

“Since always,” Wen Ruohan said with a savage grin. “Learn your history, will you?”

He lunged forward.

As he’d expected, Qingheng-jun did not have much experience in fighting against a spear. A spear was a soldier’s weapon, not a gentleman’s. The Lan sect prided itself on elegance, and its disciples followed their sect, alternating between the beautiful sword forms of which both Lan Qiren and Qingheng-jun were masters and the underestimated but no less potent power of their music. The spear, in contrast, was a utilitarian weapon, meant to fight horses or enemy soldiers, meant to stretch out one’s power onto others. And although it, too, could be elegant, in Wen Ruohan’s hands, it was all aggression.

Array in one hand, weapon in the other – yes, this was his preferred fighting style.

He attacked.

Now it was Qingheng-jun who found himself on the defensive. Now it was he who had to dodge, he who had to speed up, who had to block time and time again, receiving the blows instead of striking them.

Now it was Qingheng-jun who was going to lose.

They both knew it.

It was a shared understanding between them, shared in their eyes as they gazed at each other, in the growing smirk on Wen Ruohan’s face and the growing scowl on Qingheng-jun, in the increased desperation of his movements, in the way he spent his spiritual energy recklessly, frantically, but to no avail. He couldn’t find any openings, Wen Ruohan beating him down with spear and arrays both, using his sword only to fly and barely even for that. He couldn’t find a way out.

Wen Ruohan wasn’t going to leave him a way out.

Qingheng-jun’s fate was sealed, and they both knew it. He was going to die. He was going die, and his crimes were going to be covered up for the sake of the Lan sect and his sons, for the sake of letting Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji grow up as the sons of that brilliant but tragic swordsman that Wen Ruohan would have loved to have recruited and not of the murderous madman he’d turned into instead. He was going to die and be erased, be replaced by Lan Qiren first and by Lan Xichen and by Lan Wangji later, and there was nothing he could do about it.

It was just a matter of time, now.

He was going to die –

“No,” Qingheng-jun spat. “No! I refuse – I surrender.”

Wen Ruohan’s hand froze.

“You what?”

He must not have heard correctly.

“I surrender,” Qingheng-jun said, and threw down his sword. It clattered onto the ground, its beautiful tassel becoming stained by the mud of the earth they had churned up with their violence. “You heard me. I surrender myself to you. I request punishment for my crime – adjudicated punishment, and the chance to atone.”

“Why in the world would I grant that to you?” Wen Ruohan wondered. “Have you mistaken who I am? My Wen sect doesn’t have such beliefs.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Qingheng-jun agreed, and then he smiled, a cold nasty sort of smile. “But Qiren does.”

Qiren does.

He was right.

Qingheng-jun was right, damn him. Lan Qiren had said it himself, when they’d been talking about Wang Liu: What do you mean, what do I want to do with him? Naturally he must be given a fair trial and a fair sentence, a fair punishment. It’s different, once he’s been taken into custody: before, he was an enemy, and now he is a prisoner.

And I, at least, do not mistreat prisoners.

If Wen Ruohan killed Qingheng-jun now, after he had voluntarily surrendered, he would be executing a prisoner, not defeating an enemy.

He could still do it. He was a Wen, not a Lan. He wasn’t bound by Lan Qiren’s multitude of rules, he wasn’t bound by Lan Qiren’s conscience…but Lan Qiren was, and Lan Qiren would disapprove.

More than disapprove. He would feel guilty.

Complicit.

Wen Ruohan had himself said that he was here to act as the instrument of Lan Qiren’s will, and he had meant it. But if that was his purpose here, he had to decide whether he was going to follow that will to the end, whether to obey it over the dictates of his own inclinations. He had to decide if he was going to handle this the way Lan Qiren would have wanted him to, or ignore it and forge his own path the way he always had.

Whether he would do things in Lan Qiren’s name that Lan Qiren would never have wanted.

Wen Ruohan could kill him and then lie, of course. There was no one here but the two of them, no one here to see Qingheng-jun’s surrender – Wen Ruohan was a cultivator just like any other. He could kill the man and banish his spirit before anyone would think to question him, covering it up just as thoroughly as the mine had been covered up, as thoroughly as Qingheng-jun’s attempted massacre had been covered up. He could tell Lan Qiren that he’d killed his brother in fair battle, could bear the secret himself, relieve Lan Qiren of the guilt of knowing it wasn’t true.

He could lie.

But – if he lied about something like this…wasn’t he undermining the trust Lan Qiren put in him?

This is my promise to you, he’d said to him, and he had meant it. This is my oath that I will trust in you in the future, and be someone whom you can trust in, in turn, someone worthy of your trust. My promise is this: that everything I do in the future, I will do with thoughts of you.

Do not tell lies.

He’d said it, and he’d meant it.

That meant he couldn’t lie.

And if he couldn’t lie – then he couldn’t kill Qingheng-jun.

So, despite everything, despite Qingheng-jun’s victorious smirk that he itched to beat off his face –

Wen Ruohan held back his hand.

“Well,” he said, meaning shit and fuck you and fuck me and a thousand other curses that all wanted to come pouring out of his mouth all at once, none of them finding purchase over the others. “Well, then.”

Qingheng-jun laughed.

It was a desolate sound.

[shes-an-oddbird]

Can't stop thinking about the battle for the Lieutenant position, especially with all the stills for 5.02 so here's how I think this is going to play out.

First of all I’m still not entirely sure who will get the title in the end because I originally thought Judd would come back before the decision had to be made but now, I don’t think that is the case. I think the appeal of having him start again from scratch as a probie is too good to pass up.

That leaves us down to Paul, Marjan or even possibly Mateo.

In the stills it looks like Owen is going over the lieutenant tests with Paul and Marjan and I think that could play out a couple of different ways. Now I don’t know what a lieutenant test would include or how it would be structured but I think they either outscored each other on different parts of the test or struggled equally on the same part of the test (I’ll come back to this). Effectively keeping them balanced or in need of proving themselves and prolonging the competition through 5.02 and 5.03.

What’s interesting is that Owen is also talking to Mateo in the stills. I personally think he’s asking for Mateo to help him in making a decision between Paul and Marjan because he can give a different perspective. Owen would have authority over a lieutenant as the captain while Mateo would have to take orders from them. (I’m also not entirely unconvinced that Owen wouldn’t just pass the responsibility to make a choice between them on to Mateo. Just say that he knows them best and that he trusts his decision 100% and is done with it because lone star is a comedy more often than not.)

Either way, over the course of 5.02 Paul and Marjan are still going to be under the microscope. They could be continuing to show off in front of Owen but I think there is another option. If they struggled with part of the lieutenant test, like perhaps they are called out for being reckless (because they do things like jump on to the back of out of control trucks or into grease traps with no gear) they may over compensate and proceed too cautiously at the train wreck or even second guess themselves. (And also put them in danger because the promos have them being tossed around like rag dolls).

Now here is where it gets even more complicated because if Paul and Marjan are overthinking their every move and Owen is lone wolfing it again that just leaves Mateo to be the rational one. And that sounds crazy but Mateo has proven that he is calm under pressure (like in the dust storm), sees clear and obvious solutions that others miss (like when that guy was almost crushed by the trash compactor) and is willing to let others take the lead if they are better suited to the rescue (he admits Paul is better off to lead when the father and son are trapped in the car on the power lines). In a way, he is actually the most like Judd of the three of them.

And if in 5.03 Mateo is the one to figure out how to get to TNT when they’re trapped in the school or whatever is going on there then I think it is a very real possibility Owen would offer him the job. If there is any solid reason as to why Mateo wouldn’t be a good lieutenant its that he’s probably not ready to fill in as a captain if Owen wasn’t there.

So in the end there is Marjan who is brave, organized and already has strong leadership skills. Paul who is observant, calculating and has the most experience. And Mateo who is hardworking, knowledgeable and determined. It’s a hard choice and I still don’t think we have a clear answer as too who it will be but I will say, if Owen mentions the lieutenant test to Mateo and Mateo says, yeah he took one when he took the job with the 129 then the chance that its him doubles because that’s absolutely them foreshadowing and covering a plot hole in one go.

[hatsbuckets]

FK DUDE

So, in college I'm in a ROTC-adjacent (reserve officer training course) leadership progam.

Today my leadership class instructor was introducing himself. He's a younger (probably 40s) retired Lt. Col. and he was like "my fav to fly is close air support AC-130s "

And then he was like "anybody play call of duty" and I was able to refrain from like shooting my hand up, but also it was like me and one other guy lmao. He's like "yeah you know that one where you're shooting?"

He was like, "yeah I flew those planes" *bomb dropping out of the plane sound effects* and he made like the little hand motion too.

PLEASE I HAD TO TELL SOMEONE it was so funny and internally I was like screaming like I cannot lay out my current hyper-fixation like that in front of a class full of my friends who are future military. lmaoooo

the class was really fun though.