#is it an act of selfishness or selflessness to be the one to consume your lover to ensure that their soul is reborn

[agonizedembrace]

no like.. such tragic yuri though

eve building trust with akali only to ruin it in the end in a last ditch effort to save her soul ( smth of her own undoing ; accpetance of her enotions, to care for a human to want them to “live” ). consuming and merging the two of them togehter during an intimate momebt after asking akali if she trusts her…

i mean whats more romantic than m*rdering the one that you (totally don’t) love

[galedekarios]

You don't have to ship it, but they do have their similarities—enough that it really isn’t any two white dudes shoved together (unlike one pale elf and another wood elf are). Their personalities, alignments, and histories make them very different people, but some of their goals, struggles, hobbies, motives, requirements, and unpopular moral opinions align in ways that they don't with other origins. I think what similarities they do have are the reason why they butt heads at first, and why Gale later on softens up to Astarion as he becomes more comfortable with himself. They check a lot of the requirements for mirror characters, and it's a ship that's at its best when people hone in on that rather than using it to write out their yaoi punching bag Gale x perfect pained princess Astarion fantasies.

i was debating not answering this because this isn't really something of a debate for me or something that i will change my opinion on.

they share the same levels of surface similarities with everyone else in the roster, if you truly want to put your mind to it.

my point is not "don't ship" or "ship", my point is these sorts of shallow parallels can be drawn between any and all of them. it doesn't translate to them being "made for each other" or "written for each other" or being "narrative foils" or "mirrors".

some of their goals? which ones exactly? getting rid of the tadpole? regaining agency? learning to live the life they feel they lost? again, that's something all of them share.

what struggles? overcoming an oppressive relationship? again, that's something all of them share.

what hobbies do they share? reading? because they share the same reading animation despite ast*rion never talking about books? on the contrary, he even derides reading and books as a waste of time.

what motives? motives for what?

what requirements? consuming something? karlach needs infernal iron in order to survive.

what unpopular moral opinions? about what? in which respect?

it's all so shallow.

people mistake where gale's "unpopular moral opinions" come from in opposition to ast*rion's: in the beginning, they come from pragmatism and being smart enough to recognise that the group is facing a seemingly unwinnable battle against an unknown entity that is controlling an entire army to later finding out it's a legendary elder brain with a macguffin on its head. it's not about hubris nor is it about being unhinged or selfish. it's pragmatism against insourmantable odds and it's selflessness by act iii that makes him offer his sacrifice even if you have convinced him to live. if we are speaking about the crown, the boat scene beats you over the head with it stemming from gale's loss of faith in m*stra and wanting to be better than her in order to help - themselves and others.

they don't check "requirements for mirror characters" in any way that the others do not. i could take any and all of these "mirrors" and apply them to every other companion in the game if that is the level of "depth" we are using.

if we look past the shallow parallels you can draw for basically all of them, we see gale shooting down ast*rion's manipulation tactics right away ("i do enjoy our walks together. don't you, gale?" "uh sure. in silence."). we see their different approaches to what the journey throws at them. gale enjoys helping people, for no gain at all, and diplomatic solutions (arabella, mirkon, mayrina, zevlor, etc.), he needs someone who is on his side, someone who is willing to accept him for who he is. gale is genuinely good-hearted and kind. that is why they butt heads early on. not because they are similar. in opposition to that, ast*rion delights in cruelty. he is so needlessly and often. towards those in need, towards children, towards animals. he is out for no one but himself. he shows little emphathy to anyone, with the exception of himself always ("the problem with what cazador has done is that he did it to me.").

ast*rion in particular is often downright cruel and degrading to people around him, he's cruel and degrading to gale, to the problems he faces and who he is as a person (just a few examples from the top of my head):

from the moment when gale reveals his backstory ("why isn't this netherese jack in a box a blip on the horizon already?") to the mystra reveal (being more focused on what it means re: controlling the cult than gale's impending death), and his casual dismissal of who gale is as a person at every other turn ("i don't care what's in every mind flayer colony, gale - nobody does. except you."), to delighting in the fact gale was kidnapped by orin.

are k*rlach and gale foils because they share a bomb in their chest?

are sh*dowheart and gale foils because they share religious trauma?

are w*ll and gale foils because they share having a relationship with an incredible power imbalance with a female entity?

are h*lsin and gale foils because they both have a library?

are w*ll and gale foils because they have their tents set up next to each other in act i?

to wrap it up: they are completely incompatible to me.

they are "mirrors" or "foils" in the same way that karlach and gale are. or gale and wyll. or gale and shadowheart: at the most there are parallels you can draw that are tenuous at best and shallow at worst. the broad same general narrative structure doesn't create narrative foils.

i've tried to engage with this ship to see what people are doing with it and the relationship usually starts in the same way over and over again in a way that gale's character a disservice.

gale isn't someone who cares about physical attractiveness, nor is he someone who is into one night stands or sleeping with someone for the sake of it while ast*rion's entire romance set up hinges on the fact that you are being manipulated by him, sex and attraction as a springboard.

gale's entire romance set up hinges on the fact that you accept him as he is. it's a slow burn. mystra's missive forces his hand into confessing early and sharing himself with you in what time is left to him - sex is a component of a greater whole.

gale also isn't someone to just take insults or abuse or dismissal and then still run after said someone to have a relationship, he isn't someone where enemies to lovers work or fwb (both things that seem to be quite popular with this particular ship).

i'm not even going to touch on the 'dubcon' aspect i've also seen a lot of forcing 'favours' from gale because he needs magical artefacts because that's a whole different can of worms.

again: this is not a don't ship post. you are free to ship what you want. this is solely a this relationship doesn't work for me, much less as narrative foils, post, and i have seen nothing that would convince me otherwise in the game or from the people who do like this ship.

[morgana-ren]

Ilya and Astarion. Not your Ilya, the one you reblogged. Would you elaborate on why they are so similar?

It's not my post. I really liked it, so yeah, it resonates with me personally. This is just why they are similar to me. I'm not good at vocalizing my thoughts, as you've probably noticed, but I'll try.

Julian and Astarion, at a glance, aren't alike.

That's a fair consensus.

You've got Astarion: the selfish, greedy, rude little bastard who pulls a knife on you in sheer vulnerability. He is surviving. He wants to set things right, but only for his own selfish means. He wants power and protection and the safety to live as he sees fit. He is willing to act brashly preemptively to save his own ass before he can get a read.

You've got Julian: The brash but kind-hearted man who is so, so masochistic and self-loathing. He wants you to hurt him. He wants to set things right for the sheer fact of feeling responsibility over it. So desperately that he dives himself into the fire and is willing to sacrifice himself to do it. He is willing to do things against his moral compass to do so, including intimidating you-- kind of. It doesn't work well.

Seems like they have nothing in common at all. And maybe they realistically don't. But they resonate with similar people. It's the people they resonate with that matter.

Think of two sides of a strange coin. Both believe they are monsters. Both believe they are doomed, so they might as well seize the moment. Both have similar feelings but deal with them so differently.

Julian felt responsibility for what had happened. What had been done to him and all of Vesuvia. He was written to be a good character. A kind man. A sweet man. A loving and self-sacrificing man. He was written to be a masochist. He was written to be a man who wholly devoured all the pain he 'thought' he caused and needed to fix it. No matter what. Even just throwing himself in front of the loaded gun to do it-- even if it hurt the ones he loved the most, because he thought he was benefiting them in the end and they were better off without him. In a weird way, it didn't quite matter who actually did it hurt, because he condemned himself already. He had already decided he was guilty. Judgement was passed.

Astarion was the opposite. He was pompous and rude and a sheer survivalist. He did what he needed to do to survive, no matter who he hurt. Nothing was his fault because survival is a nasty business. He wants to set things right, but for himself-- as much as he knew. He needed safety, and was willing to do anything to achieve it. His pain made him selfish and desperate. He didn't care who he hurt to set things right.

Both have motives that consume them. Both are passionate and guarded and misdirect you. Both hurt and will keep that from you until the last minute that they can. Both can have happy endings-- and they can have bad. Both hold you at a distance and fight and rage against their feelings for you. Both, in a way, are so disgusted that they have these emotions towards you that they cannot control.

Both have motives that stay and lead them to utter damnation-- if not for your intervention.

Both are on opposite sides of the spectrum. A man so selfish it makes him vicious, and a man so selfless it makes him cruel.

They feel shame and hurt. But how they deal. How they manage. How they learn.

Both are terrified. Both are vulnerable. Both hurt. Both deny their own feelings. Both deny their own agency. Both have taken away their own will for a goal. Both are just trying to make things right in their own way. Both have these incredibly immense feelings but just don't fucking know how to deal with them.

Both have to be taught by the character and friends and people who love them that it's okay to rely on others. It's okay to have these feelings of guilt. Both are so, so self-destructive but on opposite ends of the sword. One wields the blade like it could save him. The other desperately tries to impale himself on it.

Maybe the characters aren't similar. But sometimes they hit with people who feel both of their struggles. People struggling with both. People who look at them and go "Fuck me, I love this." People see them as similar for their own reasons, so I can't speak to OPs reasoning, but this is mine.

I love them both, but in a way that's very hard to explain. I really can't. I can go on for 9 days way I think it should relate, but maybe they don't to you. Maybe they're just too different. Different strokes for different folks and all of that.

[dayfalwastaken]

Higher Dialogue.

“Okay, picture this scenario then.” He raised his hand to better illustrate what he was about to say. “You have a lot of money and donate to charity. Why do you do it? Is it because it’s the right thing to do and makes you happy or do you do it because you’d feel bad otherwise? In both cases you cannot be truly selfless, since performing the action of donating to charity will nonetheless end up benefiting you in some way. By the same logic breathing is selfish, because it benefits you.”

The other just shrugged, crossing his legs.

“Breathing is done automatically though. You only do it consciously once you start thinking about it, and then it fades back to being automatic. You can’t call someone selfish for continuing to function as an organism.” His argument was met with a small frown.

“What about eating then? The act of hunting for prey, killing and preparing it is all done consciously to help continue your existence, by at the same time ending another’s. Plants for example do not kill anyone to continue living, with few exceptions. They feed off of sunlight, a resource that cannot really be consumed since it’s produced by the sun as a byproduct of its existence.

He paused, narrowing his eyes while he looked off into the distance. The rabbit nodded, inviting him to go on. The dots of light in Shadow Freddy’s eyes fluttered, but his expression did not allow for much to be gathered. RWQ still had no idea just what the other was thinking, as opposed to how it was for Fred himself.

“Therefore, sunlight is limitless during a plant’s lifespan despite how much of it the plant eats and the sun will never be impacted by the consumption of its light. The plant is eating automatically without impacting the thing that feeds it- or anything else for that matter, so in this case it is not selfish like other creatures.”

“But not everything is a plant- a simpler lifeform. It’s not my fault I’m not one. Evolution, a higher power, mere chance may have created me. I cannot be blamed for what I am on a base level when I have no control over it.” He placed a hand on his chest, gripping the velvet armchair tighter. In the meantime, the bear fixed his tie, listening along in interest.

“A human infant cannot be blamed for being born human, can it? Except the simple lifeform- depending on what you define as life, everyone and everything has to be a little selfish in order to exist. It’s the circle of, well, life.” A begrudging nod was his sole reward for the argument. “Nothing would be if not for some amount of self-benefiting action. That does not mean, however, that selfishness is inherently bad. It’s self-serving for sure, but in the case of survival it’s necessary.”

Then, a hopeful grin and a hint of pity graced the bear’s features.

“So you are in agreement with me when I say it is necessary for me to cause pain in order to further exist.” Shadow Freddy had said it more like a statement rather than a question. “That I am not selfishly evil just for the sake of it, my enjoyment of tormenting people notwithstanding since it’s a side effect.”

“No.” In return, a single eyebrow was raised.

“Why?” He asked, his tone even.

“Because in your particular case there is an easier, far less hurtful alternative.” The Devil tilted his head, urging the rabbit to continue with a simple hand gesture. “Leeching off of the pain already present in the world, as you say, that will never truly cease. If that wasn’t an option then I’d reluctantly have to agree. That is, as long as the pain was caused in as small amounts as possible to ensure you had just enough to keep living.”

But as soon as he’d said that, his friend had rolled his eyes, attention on the red sky above the both of them. Not what he wanted to hear, but then oftentimes that was the truth’s nature, wasn’t it?

“So, in your opinion, I am forced to do just enough to live and nothing else. My life is relegated to a- a silent existence, drifting boredly through space, without enjoying anything it has to offer...” He raised his shoulders in confusion. “But is it not in my nature to only enjoy the harm I can cause others? You said it yourself; you cannot be blamed for what you are on a base level. If what I am is a being that feeds on the negative emotions of others- in order to live, be happy, fulfilled, whatever- can I really be called evil?”

For a moment RWQFSFASXC was taken off guard by how calm the Devil remained even when his convictions were being challenged, but he chuckled at himself the next second. He was not talking to a mindless creature. There was reason to be found even in the vilest- by the general definition- of creatures. And there was nothing more that he enjoyed than having a levelheaded discussion with a gifted individual.

“All I want, like all sentient beings, is to be happy.” It had been said so innocently the rabbit could do nothing else but believe it. “Why should I be denied that? Am I wrong to pursue my own happiness and mental wellbeing? Simply because it comes at the detriment of others? If that’s just how it is for me- as opposed to other lifeforms- and I can’t change the very nature of my being, how can you call me evil? Why is it wrong to make the best out of the hand I’ve been dealt?”

RWQ inhaled, despite not needing to, and tilted forward, resting his arms on his knees.

“That would imply you cannot learn to enjoy other things.” He began, treading carefully. “That you are forced to conform to the hand. I like being in the company of people even when they’re unaware of my presence, for example. That is not considered normal for those like us. Of course, we are not the same person, but if a being so similar to you can evolve past it’s arguably primal need to inflict suffering, I believe so can you…”

He was walking on eggshells, he knew, but it was worth a shot. If there was a chance people would stop suffering at the bear’s hands, as a result of a peaceful approach, he’d have to take it. The Devil shifted in his seat, but not in a show of anxiety. It was more like the confident dominance of one that was taking a more comfortable position to consider what they’d just heard.

A short silence descended between them, which RWQ broke almost immediately by swallowing his own fear and pushing further. He hoped to God his courage wouldn’t get him and many others killed. It’d be difficult to live with himself afterwards if he’d been the cause of a rageful rampage.  

“All sentient beings can choose to change, for the better or worse. You just need to try. To give yourself that chance to move past what you see as regular behavior- and be different than the norm that we’re expected to conform to...”

He proposed, trying to appear as reassuring as possible as he smiled. That may’ve had the opposite effect however. Shadow Freddy broke eye contact, leaning back into his chair to rub his chin.

“There’s always a choice. To improve your situation, as best you can, even when the difference might very well be miniscule, is still a choice worth making, I believe. To ignore that choice is what would make you evil.”

The rabbit could see the metaphorical gears turning underneath the top hat, and he prayed that was enough to convince his friend to at least take it easy on those poor, young souls. With bated breath he watched as his suggestion was weighed, and as he did so the bear laughed, probably amused by his anticipation. Well, at least it wasn’t a malicious laugh, so there was a silver lining somewhere in there.

A long sigh of relief escaped him upon hearing Fred’s response.

“…Huh. I’ll admit… I hadn’t thought of it like that.” The Devil stood up all of a sudden, clasping his hands together. Thick black smoke rose from his back as he extended a hand. “You’ve given me a lot to consider, RWQ.” He admitted, seemingly impressed. Shadow Bonnie glitched for a brief second, before smiling sheepishly and taking the hand, letting himself be pulled up. “I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad if Miss Schmidt was permitted a good night’s sleep.”

He almost jumped up in happiness, but managed to contain his excitement before it got the better of him. Lord knew Cassidy deserved a good rest more than anyone.

“Baby steps. That’s progress. But what about the boy?” He asked, a glimmer of hope in his voice.

There were countless other questions he could’ve asked, and none would provoked the same reaction from the entity in front of him. Anything else and he would’ve received a curt explanation, another question maybe, or perhaps silence. But none of those potential inquiries would’ve led to what he’d heard next.

In a low tone and a snarl that radiated nothing but pure, utter disgust, the Devil growled, barring his fangs and clenching his teeth so hard literal cracks formed before being sealed a moment later. No longer did he look like the calm, collected and amicable person from moments prior, or even a person for that matter. Instead, the visage of a monster, so filled with hate and sheer anger that existing should’ve been impossible, replaced him. It left RWQ wondering how something so awful could be real- how one could be while carrying so much… Rot within themselves. Ironic, coming from a being made out of agony and remnant of pain.

“Little rabbit… Sad, naïve little rabbit… If you had actually paid attention to those memories, you would’ve known better. There would be no reason for you to ask why or what about…” In spite of the repulsion coming off with each word, the Devil smiled. He held onto RWQ’s arm and sunk his claws all the way through it. Shadow Bonnie grimaced, but his shudder did not aid him in escaping the iron grasp.

“And you were doing so well being a makeshift therapist. I would’ve enjoyed talking to you further.” He was taller than an average human, but the Devil dwarfed him by a good margin, and for all the bravado, RWQFSFASXC felt smaller than ever.

What could no longer be called Fred sighed, cursing under his breath.

“You just had to go and ruin it… A truly unfortunate development.”

Shadow Bonnie’s long ears lowered like those of a cornered animal, and he took a step back, the invisible color draining from his face. As he stared up into those empty sockets, he realized he was staring into the eyes of Death, which he had just awakened. And all that had taken was a question.

While the pinpricks of Life disappeared from Death’s gaze, RWQ felt sorry. Sorry for the humans who had to live in an age where the Reaper had just been angered. Sorry for the boy and those around him that were sure to suffer thanks to his foolish mistake, and, allowing himself an ounce of selfishness, sorry for his own fate at the hands of this unending inferno, one which he’d just stirred.

The red chairs they’d sat on were gone, he noted. The wind had picked up as well, lifting the fallen leaves high into the air and circling the two of them like a forming tornado. At the same time, the lake had frozen and the ground had begun breaking under their feet. Out of the glowing cracks, the smell of sulfur rose, filling the atmosphere between them. Lightning struck somewhere to the left, startling him, but he was too transfixed on Death’s cold expression to acknowledge it.

“The Big Man should learn to keep his hands to himself, but I suppose complaining makes me a tad hypocritical when I don’t really mind cleaning up after his strays. Someone needs to look after those abandoned by him, no? What are you gonna do? The men in charge often get lazy. As for you, my dear friend…” Without warning his hand was ripped straight out of its socket and dropped to the ground, glitching into dark mist. RWQ did not scream, but he did clutch the bleeding wound as it healed.

The Devil leaned forward, close enough for their foreheads to touch, and whispered musingly into his ear.

“Run, rabbit… Run.”

…

It won’t help you, but go anyway- was left unsaid. RWQ didn’t need to be told twice. He teleported away before his arm even finished reforming. Guttural laughter saluted him on his way out, leaving a chill to go down his spine.

“Shit.”

[sentimentalslut]

♡ 49, 55, 73 and 78 ♡

49. What fic of yours would you say is the best introduction to you as a writer?

oh this is TOUGH. I think either five year plan or and i hope when you think of me years down the line are decent intros? they’re definitely the two i read back over and go “oh she’s a GOOD writer huh”

so maybe not the best intro to me as a writer per se but definitely the ones i stroke my own ego over. sections of 5yp especially.

55. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings?

Boy howdy do I. I love religious imagery and parking lots and devotion through selfless acts. I love religious trauma and Eve and the idea of Temptation.

I also use the same phrases over and over and never fuckin notice until I’m re-reading something over three months old. I can’t think of any examples off the top of my head but I guarantee u once u notice u won’t stop noticing.

73. What do you tend to get complimented on the most about your writing?

Characterization, mostly! And prose. But mostly people like my consistency in making Duncan an ass man.

78. What motivates you during the writing process?

Honestly, part of the reason I share my work is that I am an externally motivated person. Having people tell me they like what I’m writing or that they’re excited for updates is this hugely selfish motivator for me.

Beyond that, usually I’m motivated by needing to let my brain worms out before they consume me from the inside.

[smallpapercuts]

〉︎★︎ 001

— The Beginning, Generics, all meaningless.

°

I disgust myself.

I desperately crave comfort, the idea of someone being near to me, but the thought of touch sickens me. I want to use someone as a lifeline the same way I’ve been used, but I can’t see a reason to stay when they will just slip away like butter. It’s like trying to hold running water; everything I want runs away from me. So I try to not ask for anything, and it leaves me feeling numb.

I feel hollow. There are maggots inside of me, eating away. A disgusting and dirty hollow thing. I barely feel real. I only exist when my existence is a convenience. No-one wants something decaying, if I allow myself to be honest they will leave.

I can’t be cured. I’ve come to accept that. I already know that no matter what I do I can not be helped or cured. Something like me would never deserve that anyways. I simply can not accept help when I don’t deserve it. Asking is selfish, and yet, some stupid part of me still idealises being saved.

I can’t be saved. No-one would be willing to save something like me. People only ever save themselves. Nothing will be gained by saving me, it is easier to leave me to drown. I can’t bring myself to save myself anymore. I enjoy drowning. The sinking gets comforting after a while. It has to or else it will hurt. And once you pass that point nothing will offer the same comfort as the feeling of destroying yourself.

I can’t accept help. It hurts. I am rotten and dirty. There is no hope for me. Even the dirt will not accept me. If they could not help me when I was pure and soft like cake, then no-one can help me when I am rough and dirty. I poison everything around me and infect the environment I am in, contaminating it with my sickness. A selfish thing like me should not deserve the right to breathe, and yet it is granted? So I should deprive myself of other things which I can restrict, such as food and sleep, boring things which I do not deserve.

A child. A sweet child who may have been annoying but was kind and wanted to help others. A selfless child who didn’t mean to hurt the world. No-one would help her. They praised her for being hurt and suffering. Why should my suffering be cured? I don’t know when I stopped being her. All I know is we are two separate people. She is good and I am bad.

But what am I? Do I truly exist? Does anything I do have a genuine meaning? An I just truly a disposable pawn? Of course I am. Ones existence is only worth what impact it has. Something like me which gets ignored and tossed aside is insignificant. No-one had ever chosen me first, and no-one will, as I have nothing useful left to give. As such, my existence is worthless. If others don’t note your existence, if no-one does, then whats to say that you are actually there? You only exist if others view you and acknowledge you. People only live for approval.

I yearn to be hurt. I want to be hurt. I despise pain, but I wish to be beaten thoroughly. I wish to be hurt, to be kicked, to be slapped, to be screamed at, to be deprived. That is the place that I find the most comfort. It is the safest I feel as I know exactly how to respond and act. You find comfort in the norm. Yet, this is not normal anymore. Everything has changed. Everything is wrong. It is good now, so everything is wrong here.

But soon it will go back to the normal. Then why do I fear it so much? Why is this fear consuming me again like it normally would? The fear is so comforting, so normal, yet I hate it. It burns me. Everything burns me. I am tired and bored. I wish to sleep. I hate this. I hate being awake. I hate eating. I hate talking to people. I hate breathing. I hate sleeping. I hate noise. I hate the silence. I wish for it all to stop.

I know it’s a selfish thought, and a selfish belief, but I’m tired. I want to feel safe. I want to be her again. I want to comfort her and keep her safe, yet I want to hurt her and suffocate her and end her misery before it begins. A child didn’t deserve that. I want to drown. I am drowning. I want someone to save me.

The thought in itself is selfish. To wish to be saved is selfish. It is a stupid thought I must stamp out, yet it haunts me. It isn’t what I want. It is what she wants. I distance myself from her. We are not alike. No matter how much I look at her I can’t see us as the same person, despite what everyone else says. She wanted to be saved. I don’t. I can still hear her shouting sometimes. She’s screaming. All she does is stare at me, saying nothing. But I can hear her screaming.

It feels distant like a memory of a film. Nothing feels real. I do not feel real. I am stuck in a bubble, unwilling to leave, unwilling to change, unwilling to help myself or ask for help. I fear asking for help. Fear has consumed me. The isolation has consumed me. Everything is rotten and nothing is left. I should burn and die.

But I’m too lazy to. Or maybe part of her still hopes for something better. I don’t know. I’m really tired of being here. I want to sleep. To dig my nails into my flesh and tear it so when I wake up I am someone else. I wish to be free.

I wish to be ignorant.

[cottoncandyyuvon]

To love and to be loved

I tell nobody of the crazy act I'm gonna make. Reach the pearl, catch it in your greedy hands, and everyone will be set free, forever. It's suicidal, yet lovely. A monster can be remembered as a hero, just because in a desperate act to make sure of being ingrained in few fading memories of humanity they accepted to give up on their life in order to save others'. It's such a horrible and raw reality, hard to accept, it may make people's ears bleed. But the desperate need of having something, someone that loves me is such a selfish, foolish request that makes me take a selfless decision. So I run. I run towards the borders or this undying world, where reality collapses, and I dive into the darkness, searching for the jewel of love. And I run, I run, I want to stop but I leap, with feverish adrenaline, with filthy obsession, with the all-consuming guilt settled deep in my heart, awakening every fiber of my body. Electrocuted by frenzy I laugh my last laugh, the darkness invading my lungs with that awful smell of crippled memories. Forget-me-not, forget-me-not, forget-me-not. I know no one will ever come to save me. Even if I were to tell, even if I were to explain, this act, my act, a foolish foolish act, that I regret oh so immensely now, this desperate need of love I keep pursuing can be filled only thanks to the light of the pearl, of the Light of a new world. I know for sure. My destiny is to be forgotten. Yet I refuse this with such a burning passion, I keep escaping my fate, I avoid it like my entire life depends on it, when I'm giving up my life for something that I'm not sure will even be fulfilling. It's bitter. Hope it's bitter. But necessary to become the star of a new future. I can hear the calls of the hearts, praising me for the sacrifice, praising a liar to shed their skin, to show them the ugliness, to laugh about their bitterness. It's ironic how this world will think of me as a hero. There's so much selfishness in this little selflessness. I extend my arm, ready to grip the pearl in my last attempt to feel warm. When the fingers are an inch away from touching the cold and smooth texture, I realize this will be the end of me. A desire burning so bright that brings self destruction. No one will ever remember their hero because no one is here to witness. Someone will steal my identity and take the praises, a made-up name for a nothingness of a man. It's laughable how the very same want that led me here will be the first of a list full of forever unfulfilled wishes. The pearl will shatter my defenseless body between space and time, and I will turn in watery boundaries of broken glass. Something unfathomable, unreachable... Ineffable. I laugh. It's another long and bitter laugh, the kind of laugh that punches all the air out of the body and makes you die for mere seconds by agonizing suffocation. My eyebrows shoot up as I realize how pathetic this whole thing feels, my body jolts, trying to reject the path I forced myself to follow. In the air, I feel unrestrained. Light as a feather, I can allow myself to feel at peace for a second. Forever forgotten. Never forgiven. Isn't that a fitting ending for a person like me? So everything becomes tender as I'm ready to accept this terrible self-imposed sentence, and my finger reaches the pearl, the coolness of the texture able to soothe my fears. But as I surround the pearl with my hands, I start to hear the screams. Millions of screams of people I used to know, desperate cries calling back for my name, wailing to stop me from becoming a God. "It's okay." I say, calm, with tears sprinkling around, blooming like blossoms around my eyes. "I'm not mad." The smile is sweet, in contrast with my pain. My name turns to ashes on the lips of others when I hold the pearl closer to my chest. The remains of my body bring the pearl to my mouth and I eat it, as the selfish person that I am. The all-consuming darkness eating out all the light again.

Sorry. So, so sorry.

My body explodes in a myriad of colors as the world loses its meaning and I fall back into colors that sound like firecrackers under water. And then I hear it.

Tatan.

Tatan.

What have you done?

[logicalbookthief]

Christmas Movies Ranked by How Anti-Capitalist They Are

It’s a Wonderful Life

Movies that make you want to pick a fight with the 1% and also weep with joy. Absolutely a classic and anti-capitalist at its very core. Will convince you we need to start oppressing landlords again.

“Just remember this, Mr. Potter, that this rabble you're talking about... they do most of the working and paying and living and dying in this community. Well, is it too much to have them work and pay and live and die in a couple of decent rooms and a bath? Anyway, my father didn't think so. People were human beings to him. But to you, a warped, frustrated old man, they're cattle.”

SAY THAT!!! George Bailey said fuck landlords, all my homies hate landlords, they have NO rights. Local man believes poor people are human, dedicates his life to helping them, and in his time of the need literally the whole town comes together to support him and his family. Class solidarity ftw!

“Remember no man is a failure who has friends.” Bitch I CRY EVERY GODDAMN TIME. 

10/10

Home Alone

Soundtrack goes hard, the wacky hijinks even harder. 

Loses points because the bandits had a prime opportunity to seize and redistribute some of the wealth from this ritzy Chicago neighborhood and instead they focus their energy on trying to kill an 8-year-old who outsmarts them at every turn.

2/10

Elf

A family favorite in our house. Touches on the overworking and mistreatment of employees through Greenway Press – Walter forced to choose between being with his family on Christmas Eve or losing his job, it’s implied Deb has a pet grooming business on the side to makes ends meet despite being a receptionist at a NY publishing company, etc.

Honestly most of the points come from Jonie’s underrated yet highly relatable storyline. She works in retail, exhausted and cynical towards the high-paced Christmas season which gives her little to no relief or reward, since she’s surviving on ramen noodles and using the employee showers because her water was cut off. Not expanded on enough to be considered a true Marxist piece but the effort is appreciated.

5/10

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

Although the meme is correct in that Rudolph’s red nose becomes desirable only once it proves to be useful, it does get points for exposing the harmful nature of forced conformity and those alienated by these capitalist ideals -- Rudolph, Hermie, the island of misfit toys -- are given a place to belong despite the perceived “flaws” that before made them undesirable.

Also the elves definitely have a free dental-plan now thanks to Hermie and are hopefully on their way to unionizing. Fucking superb you funky little misfit.

6/10

Klaus (2019)

Turns a member of the bourgeoisie into a man I’d trust to carry my mail. Respect for postal workers this movie contains was ahead of its time.

 No direct takedown of the establishment but a heartwarming message -- “A true selfless act always sparks another” bITCH I may be crying -- that emphasizes the importance of giving to others even when there is no selfish motivation to do so, which is inherently anti-capitalist.  

8/10

The Santa Clause

Scott Calvin starts as a toy executive who takes part in the commercialization of Christmas. He was probably a business major so automatically loses points.

The Santa dynasty itself seems to operate under the cutthroat rules of the business world where you must overthrow (or in this case, throw him off the roof) the former CEO in order to seize power. 

Elves have not unionized or seized the means of production by the end.

0/10

A Christmas Carol 

THE ORIGINAL. Charles Dickens was not even in the neighborhood of fucking around with this one. CREATED the anti-capitalist Christmas genre!!

Rich man treats his employees like shit and gets terrorized by three ghosts on Christmas Eve. Force him to redistribute his wealth by dragging him through a montage of his most epic fails -- oh, hey, remember when your fiancé left you? -- and make him listen as all his employees and relatives complain about his stingy ass. 

They end this slideshow by throwing this dude into his own grave. DIRECT ACTION. 

Like damn, the ghosts really said, “If you hoard your resources and ignore those in need when you could directly improve/save lives with no cost to yourself, you will die ALONE and you WILL pay for your crimes in hell.” Literally watching this movie is a catharsis for anyone who is or has been poor and working class. 

I’m including all versions of this movie but a special shout out to the Muppet version because it fucks the hardest. 

100/10

How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000)

Listen I’m not even in realms of joking with this one. This movie is THE anti-capitalist film of the holiday season. 

WhoVille commercializing Christmas and a fixation on consumer culture to the point where anything and anyONE who cannot be commodified -- aka the GRINCH -- is alienated? The Whos rediscovering that people should be cherished over material items once it all is stolen and they must confront how empty the holiday has become??

Cindy Lou becoming disillusioned in Christmas -- at an age that coincides when many children (those who celebrate Christmas at least) lost belief in Santa and had to wrestle with what the holiday means with the magic gone and they’re more aware of the rampant consumerism that taints the season?? Her resolve to find a meaning that goes beyond material consumption because if a holiday founded on goodwill doesn’t extend that goodwill to everyone, even those society deems undesirable, then what’s the point???

The Grinch despising Christmas because he is unable to participate and isolated from the Whos and also the better qualities within himself? His alienation serving to demonize him further as it allows the public to narrow his valid criticisms of the holiday down to him being different and thus inherently predisposed to evil?? And hmm isn’t it interesting that a LOT of this demonization comes via Mayor Augustus “generously paid for by the tax-payers of Whoville” Maywho, Mr. 1% himself.

The upper vs working class divide evident in the light show competition between Martha May and Betty Lou Who?? The opening scene of the shopping frenzy that mirrors our own consumerist culture and overworking of retail/poster workers??? This entire monologue:

“That's what it's all about, isn't it? That's what it's always been about. Gifts, gifts... gifts, gifts, gifts, gifts, gifts! You wanna know what happens to your gifts? They all come to me. In your garbage. You see what I'm saying? In your garbage. I could hang myself with all the bad Christmas neckties I found at the dump. And the avarice... the avarice never ends! ‘I want golf clubs. I want diamonds. I want a pony so I can ride it twice, get bored and sell it to make glue.’" 

MARXIST KING. MENTION IT ALL.

1000/10

[loveemagicpeace]

🍷Astrology Fatcs 🍷

☀️🦁People with sun in their 1st house often come forward very confident, proud, arrogant. At some point, they may even seem annoying. However, many times it turns out that they are not really so proud and that they do not believe in themselves as much as they seem. They act as if they have some kind of defense mechanism when it comes to emotions.

🎢North node in 9th house your purpose is to find meaing in life. Finding faith or something that you can believe in and it takes you forward. There is a lot of emphasis on growth. Learning and getting to know life itself. Travel can be an inspiration to find what you are looking for. Above all, there may also be a struggle with another culture, languages. Maybe abroad can present you with a challenge. Finding optimism is important here.

🤹🏼‍♀️🧡Cancer and Sagittarius don't go well together because cancer is empathetic, passive,moody… And many times cancer immediately becomes attached to the person he is with, many times he is also too dependent on person. Cancer often forgets itself when it is with others because it puts a lot of effort and energy into others, so when people leave it it does not know how to live on. Cancers are too dependent on other people's opinions and others can change their minds quickly. They are too burdened with what others think of them. Sagittarius is independent, optimistic, he likes to travel and goes outside the comfort zone. A sag often feels best when in another country. Sagittarius love people who are independent, self-sufficient, optimistic, dominant and have their own opinion. They appreciate uniqueness. They have strong opinions and find it difficult to change them.

💙🦋Scorpio likes to delve into people, things and finds pleasure in it. The more mysterious are things the better. Scorpio likes people who are covered, hard to figure out. He loves something that is invisible to the eye. Something only he can see. Scorpio loves a deep look into soul and heart. That’s when he feels like he really felt the person.

🌿🍃Aquarius is always attracted to aries. Because aries are an independent sign and also look inaccessible. At the same time, they are self-centered and know what they want. Aquarius like that.

🔥🪐Someone with aries & cap placements only gives spontaneously closed vibe. With aries u are focused on yourself and your needs. You can also be selfish. You can surprise people quickly, you are spontaneous and your decisions are usually quick, unpredictable and daring. But with capricorn u can be stable and decisive when you do something or when you decide on something. Even learning can go very well for you and you can quickly concentrate on the things you are doing. Your energy can be much more serious and closed on the inside. You don’t talk much about your privacy or other people. Especially if you have the moon in Capricorn, your emotions can be hidden.

✨🌸🐚Pisces are very dreamy sign. So many times they just dream about some things and never make them come true. At the same time, they can fantasize too much about things and so things lose their value. Pisces also have two sides. One side of them is when they dream and constantly go into their world of illusions, which can also lead them to consume substances. They can be manipulative and evil. They may not be emotionally stable. Maybe even selfish. The other side is when they dream but those dreams come true. They work on them or put their emotions into art. And are understanding and compassionate. They feel the energy of other people and are selfless.

-Rebekah💗🐚🦋

[tiredqueermushroom]

One thing I love about campaign 2 & 3 is how they present Fae love. How it shows how strongly they love and care, and how it contrasts the love expressed on the Material plane.

The relationship between Artagan (The Traveler) & Jester is the peak example of fae love. Throughout the story we see how others are concerned with the nature of their relationship as it appears to the others in the party that Jester gives, with very little in return, most even doubting the existence of the Traveler.

This comes to a head at Traveler Con. In an attempt to make sure his attention is solely focused on Jester, he is willing to abandon the rest of his followers on an island that eats their memories, and cutting off the inhabitants from previous families and friends that they may have had.

To Artagan this makes perfect sense! Nobody gets hurt, they get to live on a tropical island and start life anew. In his pursuit to devoting himself completely to Jester he fails to consider Jester's feelings at all.

Jester is entirely guilt ridden after she discovered the true nature of Artagan's plan and it hurts worse when Artagan confirms he knew the true nature of the island. Jester starts to spiral. Overwhelmed with the general planning of such a big event, consumed with thoughts of how her first and only friend for a long time put her and her new found family in danger! She even questions him as to what would have happened if the island took full effect on her!

Artagan at first doesn't seem to fully grasp as to why Jester is so distort? He did all this for her after all. And he would have protected her (and her friends, because they matter to her) from the full effects of the island. Artagan doesn't view his actions as manipulation because at the end of the day it solves all his problems. He doesn't have to deal with the responsibility of being a God and gets to keep Jester for himself.

And I think that is the key difference between how the fae and mortals love. Fae love freely, openly, loudly! But ultimately selfishly. Artagan cares for Jester, loves her but his love is all consuming.

Which is ironic because in the Fae, Artagen would have been laughed at for becoming so attached one mortal.

In the end Artagan learns to love selflessly. As the Moonweaver gives Jester an ultimatum. Be imprisoned for eternity with Artagan, her first friend, or let Artagan be imprisoned by himself and continue on with her friends. And Jester can't decide. She Can't choose. So Artagan choose for her, by kicking her off him, he finally understands that mortals love with a complexity, that he himself is beginning to understand.

And it's this act of selflessness by an inherently selfish creature that saves him from imprisonment.

And we're starting to see the beginnings of this with Fearne. Highlighted in her reaction to Dorian leaving, she was the first to suggest that there had to be some way of him stay (backed up by Orym). But Orym relented pretty quickly, because he ultimately understands that its the safest option. However Fearne persists,

"We-we can cut your hair. We can make you look different!"

She suggests changing Dorian in order to keep him. If resemblance is an issue, simply change how he looks! It's a simple fix in her mind. Again Fae loving simply while there's a complexity and nuance to mortal love. She literally cannot put a name to the feeling she experiences after Dorian's departure, she's never experienced loss, it's not a concept that exists in her world.

Fae are inherently selfish creatures. That selfishness is extended to all aspects of their life, even if their actions may not be the best from a mortal perspective, it cannot be denied that they do love.

They love wholly, passionately and freely.

[linkspooky]

Yuji, Alone. 

I have been saying in my past few meta that Yuji has a really unhealthy way of viewing both himself, and his relationships with others. Yuji is excellent at reading the feelings of others and empathizing with them, and at the same time terrible at processing his own emotions, a trait he shares with Geto who he is once again paralleling this chapter by choosing to stew in isolation rather than reach out for support. 

Chapter 138 does an excellent job of showing how deep these issues run, which I will explain under the cut. 

1. Yuji and Geto

If I were to explain the unhealthy mindset Yuji has by simplifying it down to one sentenence, simply stated it would be “I want to help others, but I don’t want to accept help from other people.” 

Both Yuji and Geto are so motivated by empathy they feel like they are responsible for solving other people’s problems, and they often use other people rather than themselves as a reason to move. They’re actually selfless to a fault. In that, it’s a problem in their behavior. They do everything they do for other peope, so they have no idea what they themselves want. If Gojo is someone who has a strong self image, a strong set of beliefs, an idea of what he wants to do to the world, Geto and Yuji are people who try not to think about themselves at all. 

Not only does Yuji almost never critically exam his own motivations, but he also doesn’t think of his relationships with other people. 

This is something Yaga pointed out as a danger with Yuji’s way of going about things, all the way at the beginning of his arc. If you’re doing it because your grandpa told you so, then is it really something you want to do? When you die, is it going to be your grandpa’s fault too?

Yuji is someone who seems selfless on the surface, and to an extent he is, but just like Geto that’s not all there is to him. It’s something Gojo called out early on, Geto presented himself as someone selfless, motivated entirely by using his powers to protect others, but he was also doing so self righteously. 

To clarify what I mean by self righteous, Geto believed that he was doing something because it was the objective right thing to do, but actually it was just his own personal feelings. That’s why after Riko’s death forced him to critically examine himself, he realized he didn’t want to follow the rules of Jujutsu Society. 

Both Yuji and Geto pay attention to others, but also have the blinders on in regards to themselves, and that’s the parallel right there. Yuji says he is doing these things for other people, that his number one priority is to save them but that motivation is even deconstructed in the third chapter.

Yuji’s not actually doing this for purely altruistic reasons, but for selfish ones. He wanted to do something that nobody else could do. Yuji’s life was like a vaccuum before this point. He didn’t have any real friends, or anything he wanted to do. Suddenly he had a purpose basically gift wrapped and handed to him on his lap. 

Basically, Yuji and Geto both have this schewed way of seeing other people. They thing other people exist to validate their own existences. 

To put it simply. If Hidden Inventory Geto helps weak people than he’s valid. If Yuji helps people, then he’s valid. 

Not only is the way they view themselves built around how they help other people, but at the same time all of their relationships are built up on this as well. Relationships that are built upon shaky foundations will crumble apart easily when tested. 

Geto’s most important relationship was with Gojo, they had an intense chemistry and interaction with one another like they were made for each other. They were both good at naturally balancing each other out, Geto was the one who stood up to Gojo and acted like a tether, and Gojo ackonwledged Geto as his one and only. 

However, the relationship was also built on the idea that Gojo needed Geto. Geto was only able to view his relationships with other people in that way. Geto, wants to take care of people, wants to help people. However, eventually, he was left behind by Gojo who no longer needed him as a partner in combat. On top of that, Geto awoke to a higher purpose in ridding the world of cursed energy. Geto wants to be needed by somebody in the same sense that Yuji does, so for Geto at least being needed to save the whole world in his eyes, was just more important than maintaining his relationship with Gojo. 

Which is why both Geto and Yuji’s relationships fall apart. They are great at making relationshisps, but not at maintaining them. Attention is drawn to the fact that the trio has great chemistry with each other and get along well, but they’re also terrible at communicating with each other. 

"The seats... in my life... How should I put this? I don't want my heart to be affected by people who don't have a place there. Does that sound cold? Well, I guess there are also guys like you who brings their own chair and takes a seat." Translation by Miho.

Almost literally, I don’t want anyone who’s not a part of my life to try to talk to me or tell me what to do. Also the reference that Yuji is kind of different because Yuji just kind of walked into her life unannounced and invited himself there (this is how Yuji forms relationships with everyone.)

All three of them go behind each other’s backs and keep secrets from one another. All three of them avoid direct confrontation, Nobara even says she doesn’t really want anyone else even trying to tell her how to live her life. The Origin of Obedience arc shows that Nobara, Yuji and Megumi are all good at fighting together as a team, but also questioning if they have a healthy friendship outside of that?

Any relationship takes work, confrontation, arguments and even just plain old talking about things. However, someone who is primarily insecure in their relationships will not be able to do things.  Couples shouldn’t only argue, but couples who never argue is just as unhealthy. If you are so afraid that one argument is going to end a relationship, then your relationship was fragile to begin with. 

Yuji and Geto experience conditional relatinoships. In the sense that, they are only allowed to have friends, if they are helpful to those friends. They themselves are never allowed to ask for help. It’s true that Gojo was kind of blind to Geto’s faults, but also Geto would have never asked for help. Gojo could not see, and Geto deliberately hid things from them. 

Geto always makes his relationships on the condition that he is needed. When Gojo grew more independent, Geto took that as a sign that Gojo didn’t need him anymore and deliberately started to pull away.

Because, Geto isn’t ever allowed to be the one who needs someone else. 

2. Avoidant Attachment

This is just a personal theory of mine, but I think Yuji’s issues might even center around the psychological idea of attachment theory. Especially it’s since deliberately mentioned to Junpei, that Yuji never met his mother. 

Attachment theory is a complex idea, but basically it states that attachment to other people, that is the idea to form healthy relationships with family members, friends, romantic partners is learned instead of naturally present in us. It’s a skill people develop in their formative years. 

Those who show patterns of problematic attachment in childhood will continue the behavior into adulthood unless it’s corrected, because attachment is a skill that’s developed the same as anything else. Of the four categories, Yuji and Geto most resemble this one. 

Avoidant attachment: Children with an avoidant attachment tend to avoid parents or caregivers, showing no preference between a caregiver and a complete stranger. This attachment style might be a result of abusive or neglectful caregivers. Children who are punished for relying on a caregiver will learn to avoid seeking help in the future.

Which goes further to explain how they can be so empathic towards other people, and yet the same time completely unable to maintain close relationships with them. It’s because, they avoid people at the same time. They don’t seek out help when they need it, because, deep down they view themselves as unworthy of the help. 

Geto did not immediately break after the trauma of losing Riko, it was the year of isolation after that where he slowly was consumed by his regrets. Geto got worse and worse over a period of time because he couldn’t handle his trauma in any healthy way, until he just completely snapped. 

During that time he asked himself the same questions over and over again, but Geto wasn’t able to find any kind of healthy answer to his questions because, he didn’t reach out for anybody. It wasn’t just the trauma, it was the behavior after the trauma, the decision to isolate himself for over a year. No one does well in isolation. You need other people to grow or develop. If anything Geto stagnated. Geto’s central flaw was his self-righteousness. Rather than realizing he was wrong and trying to change this flaw of his, he just doubles down and becomes even more self righteous. He goes from believing he’s responsible for protecting all the weak people, to believing he’s a superior being tasked with eliminating all the weak people in the world. So, it’s not really that Geto changed, moreso that he stagnated because he cut off all his relationships with other people. 

And isn’t Yuji doing the exact same thing right now? Yaga even points out this similaritiy between Geto and Yuji, that they try to carry every regret and burden they have on their own. 

It’s not out of selflessness that they do this though, but rather insecurity. Geto didn’t come to Gojo with his problems, because he wanted to be the strongest alongside Gojo he didn’t want to be weak. He was deliberately avoiding Gojo. 

I think it’s important to establish that Yuji wasn’t abandoned by his friends this chapter. Yuji is alone, because he chose to be alone. He’s alone because he’s avoiding both of his friends, because he’s so, so afraid the friendship will end because it’s based entirely on the condition that he be a helpful, good person.

It’s true that Yuji is genuinely worried about his friends getting hurt because of him, but look at his choices. He’s not really tackling the problem in a healthy way. He’s doing everything he can to avoid the problem, isolating himself, and just trying not to think about things. He could try to talk with Megumi and find a solution, but he’s not doing that because he’s insecure in his attachment to others. 

I think his reaction to Choso pretty clearly illustrates this too. Yuji isn’t around his friends because he doesn’t want to be around them. Which is tragic, because Yuji is holding himself responsible for the mass murder which isn’t really his fault. However, Yuji saw his relationship with both Nobara and Megumi as conditional to begin with. He can only be friends with people he can help, and he can never receive help from them. It’s unhealthy to start with because relationships go both ways. Yuji is also, completely unresponsive to Choso.

Yes. Choso suddenly walking to him and delcaring them brothers is really weird.  I don’t expect Yuji to just suddenly start getting along with him right away.

At the same time, Choso explains what the unconditional love between family is between Yuji, and Yuji just doesn’t get it, because he either hasn’t experienced enough of it, or his grandpa the only person that ever unconditionally loved him is gone. Yuji can’t understand Megumi’s love for him is unconditional,. because from the beginning he sees all relationships as conditional. 

Yuji and Choso are facing opposite direcitons because they’re opposites. Choso is willing to hurt complete strangers too, but his love for his family is unconditional and he will do anything for them. Yuji will help complete strangers, but, he doesn’t really understand unconditional love, and even his love with his closest friends has a few conditions. 

Which is why someone who appears on the surface as such a friendly guy who makes friends everywhere he goes, can call himself “a loner” because in Yuji’s mind he is. He doesn’t have friends, he has people who need him. 

Which is just incredibly sad because Yuji doesn’t understand this. Yuji isolates himself thinking he’s doing it for the sake of his friends, but neither Megumi nor Nobara would want him to be alone. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

My third and final prompt I promise: Wen Zhuliu. WEN ZHULIU. What if instead of being Wen Chao's babysitter/bodyguard he was a different young master's? Picturing him heaving a long suffering sigh at Huisang or Zixuan's antics is hilarious to me. I just want to see all the different interactions with the Core Melting Hand!

I apologize in advance for writing a fic that technically fulfils your prompt but also is...not quite about what you asked for

That Bitter Draught (ao3) 

It wasn’t that Su She was entirely unaware of what he was like.

He was a man almost entirely consumed by bitterness and envy, his eyes so firmly fixed on what his neighbors had that he couldn’t appreciate the blessings in his own life. He was selfish and ungrateful, and hated the ones he admired the most, hated all of the ones who were better off than him, even the ones who pretended to be fair and equitable about it.

Especially those.

He’d been born to an ordinary family, not cultivators at all – a feeder family doing agriculture for the sake of the great Lan sect, who never much thought nor cared about where their vegetables came from. He waded knee-deep through the muck and the mire for the first six years of his life before some passing Lan cultivator had discovered he had a bit of potential, and next thing he knew his parents had handed him off to be someone’s servant, taking him away from everyone he’d ever known – from his parents and his animals and his siblings and his brother – and he was supposed to be grateful for it.

There wasn’t anything wrong with being a servant, Su She supposed. It was a livelihood like anyone else’s, and maybe he wouldn’t be so bitter about it if he’d stayed that way, the way he was supposed to, as a servant with just enough skill at cultivating to not disturb the tranquil and thoughtful atmosphere of the Cloud Recesses as he rushed around doing all the things that were necessary.

(The Cloud Recesses – so pretty and clean and pure, except there was muck here, too, and no amount of pretending by the sect disciples that their shit didn’t stink the way everyone else’s did would change that.)

Maybe Su She would have been fine with being a servant, though he suspected he wouldn’t – in the darkness of the middle of the night he sometimes thought that his ability to be content had been taken away when he had, that the black gaping hole in his heart that had once held his family would always be a yawning pit that always wanted more than he had, forever incapable of getting the one thing that would fill it up again – but he didn’t stay that way.

No, see, Su She was good at cultivating. He was really good - not quite a genius, but his hard work paid off and he got better and better at what he was doing even though they barely gave him any time to do it in.

After all, someone had to make sure that everything was ready for the sect disciples when they woke up at the start of the mao hour, and that meant he had to be hard at work by yin, and of course the fact that they went to sleep at the end of the xu hour only meant that his work stretched well into hai, but despite all the disadvantages they loaded him down with he cultivated like a madman at every free hour, squeezing it in between work and even more degrading work. He got better and better and better, and eventually, finally, someone noticed him again.

This time they made him a disciple.

They expected him to be grateful for that, too. As if he hadn’t bought the chance with his own sweat and tears and blood, and all to be one of the blessed ones, one of the lucky ones, one of the ones who could – if they were meritorious enough – get a pass to leave the sect to go where they liked.

(Moling was too far to reach by foot, not even for the New Year, and he didn’t make enough money to buy a horse. But once he had a sword, gifted to him from the sect, once he could fly – once he was old enough – once he was trusted enough –)

Being a disciple meant that he woke up at mao hour and went to sleep at xu, that his chamber-pot disappeared in the morning as if by magic, that his food was brought to his table instead of being stuffed into his mouth in the crowded staff room right off the kitchen in the brief reprieves he had between duties…all things he had to adjust to, things that were strange and felt almost unnatural.

Now that he was a disciple, he had all the same rights as all the others, the ones who had been born to it instead of raised up from a lower level for it.

It was supposed to mean that they were all equal, all Lan disciples the same, except that all the arrogant young masters looked down their noses at the former servant who’d stepped above his station. They ridiculed him for it: for being ambitious, for being envious, for thinking too highly of himself, for not knowing the things they’d had a chance to learn and he hadn’t, for smelling like the shit no matter how clean he kept his clothing or how much he washed.

Equal – hah!

The worst, though…the worst was the Twin Jades.

Lan Xichen was powerful, yet kind and generous to the point of selflessness, a proper gentleman; Lan Wangji, equally gifted, always did the right thing, no matter the circumstances, his expression solemn and serious, his reputation famous for his righteousness.

Su She hated them. He wanted to be them, wanted to be Lan Wangji so bad it made his blood boil, but he also hated them – hated him.

The Twin Jades. They didn’t deserve to be called that, not with the three year age difference between them and at least four points of difference on their face, if you were looking; not when Su She’s brother had been born so soon before him that he’d been born clutching his ankle as they left the womb together. Not when the only difference, the only difference, between them was that fucking Lan cultivator’s comment that he only had enough room in his cart to take one of them with him.

A servant, even with cultivation potential, was worth less than a bag of bok choy meant to serve as a side dish on a trueborn Lan disciple’s plate, and so his brother was stuck in the muck back at home while Su She fought his way through the muck that was the Lan sect’s glorious principles and discipline.

He didn’t even know for sure if his brother was still alive.

Oh, Su She had the sect’s permission to write them letters, but what would it help? No one in his village could read, he certainly hadn’t been able to before he’d been forcefully taught so that Lan sect elders could pass him notes instead of condescending enough to speak to him, and the cost of paying a scholar to read it to them would be a waste of the money he faithfully sent them out of his wages every month.

So yes, Su She was bitter. Su She hated. Su She envied, and envied Lan Wangji most of all. After all, he was handsome, but not as handsome; he was talented, but not as talented; he was smart, but not as smart; he was powerful, but not as powerful; he was a twin, but no one cared about him and his brother the way they cared about Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen – Lan Wangji, who got to have his older brother with him any time he liked, but spent the entire time standing there stone-faced and driving him away.

And, of course, Lan Wangji also had – him.

Yu Zhuliu was the sort of guest disciple that was really a servant and not a proper Lan disciple, although his cultivation was high enough to rank alongside some of the shining stars of the Lan sect – even more so than most, given his cultivation of the unique ability that had made him renowned throughout the cultivation world as the Core Melting Hand. It was only that he had been too old, at the time the Lan sect had rescued him from some misfortune that Su She had never heard specified, to learn their ways properly, and for some reason the elders resisted allowing him into the sect properly.  

Perhaps it was because he was what was termed an ‘inconvenient child’ of Meishan Yu, the bastard child of a daughter of the clan; a liability that could neither be killed nor kept.

Perhaps it was because his ability was truly too terrifying, attacking as it did the golden core that all cultivators strove so hard and so long to form.

Or perhaps it was simply that he made a very convenient servant.

Yu Zhuliu was, to put a point on it, Lan Wangji’s servant, acting as both bodyguard and attendant.

He was a deputy to help Lan Wangji with whatever he needed, big or small. The Lan sect prided itself on discipline and humility, but only to a certain extent – only to the extent it looked good or was pure – and of course they were desperate to keep their precious young jade safe from the growing predations of Qishan Wen; it was not so strange that they assigned him a bodyguard, and of course if he was already doing that he might as well do the rest.

After all, who could expect a proper young gentleman to care for himself?

Su She hadn’t taken much notice of Yu Zhuliu at first, other than a brief stabbing feeling of pity when he heard of the man’s circumstances. But then one day he’d noticed him rolling his eyes as Lan Wangji stiffly recited the rules in advance of yet another punishment he was inflicting over something minor – no one loved the rules as much as Lan Wangji did. There was a reason nobody talked to him, perfect disciple that he was, and of course unlike the lowly Su She who, despite himself, longed for the company and recognition of his peers, Lan Wangji rose above it all, was above it all. And while no one could claim that his distribution of punishments wasn’t as fair and equitable as might be asked, it was evident to Su She that he only did it that way because it was the subject of yet another rule.

But no one ever seem to notice or care, no one ever thought it as stupid as Su She did, right up until that moment when he’d seen Yu Zhuliu making a long-suffering face like that where Lan Wangji couldn’t see, and Su She couldn’t help but smile a little, heart suddenly warm with a feeling of fellowship.

Yu Zhuliu had seen him smiling, caught his eyes, and rolled his eyes again, this time more pointedly – a gesture aimed just at him, a shared joke – and that was it; Su She was lost.

Su She was in Lan Wangji’s age group, even if they weren’t close (no one was close to Lan Wangji), so it wasn’t hard to find time to go over and talk to Yu Zhuliu.

The conversations were mostly one-sided to start with, which Su She had expected. Yu Zhuliu was a reserved man, and of course there was always that master-servant divide lying between them like a gulf. Still, Su She had been a servant once, which Yu Zhuliu knew – everyone knew – and in time Su She got him to ease up a little, talk back, commiserate.

Su She told him about his family, the little he remembered of them after all these years; in return, Yu Zhuliu unbent enough to tell him a little about his own background: the mother that hated him as the living sign of her disgrace, the constant accusations that he didn’t deserve to bear the Yu surname.

“Have you ever considered changing it?” Su She asked, helping him fold Lan Wangji’s laundry. It wasn’t something he’d ever have permitted himself to do under other circumstances, knowing how important it was to distance himself from all things relating to servants, but he was willing to make some compromises if it meant getting to spend a little more time with Yu Zhuliu. “Obviously if you want to keep it, it’s yours; they can’t deprive you of your birthright like that. But it doesn’t seem like you particularly want it.”

Yu Zhuliu was quiet for a long moment. “Once,” he said, his eyes distant. “I considered it once, before I joined the Lan sect. I wasn’t yet sure who had been the one to – well. Suffice it to say that I was seriously considering an offer I had received to join a different sect, and they offered to allow me to adopt the main clan’s surname as my own if I performed well.”

Su She shuddered in automatic revulsion at the thought.

Yu Zhuliu saw it, of course, and chuckled. “It would have been a great honor,” he reminded him. “Especially for someone like me – to be able to shed my old name would have been enough, but to replace it with a name that was even more powerful..?”

“Gratifying,” Su She agreed, a little begrudgingly. The idea of giving away his identity like that, giving in to the arrogant young masters’ lies that they were better than him just because they had a fancier surname, revolted him, but he could, he supposed, see a little of the spiteful appeal of it.  “Like – stamping on their faces with it, showing them what they’ve lost.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you take that offer, then?” They both knew the Lan sect would never in a million years extend a similar offer, even though there were plenty of branch families surnamed Lan and another one more or less wouldn’t much matter. It wasn’t proper, though, and no one cared more about propriety than the Lan sect. “With the clan surname, they would have had to make you a proper disciple.”

Su She would never agree to such an offer himself. He might want, in the darkest parts of his heart, to be Lan Wangjii, to be something better than he was, might occasionally daydream of what his life might have been life if they’d been born swapped in place, but he didn’t – he wouldn’t sell his surname for it.

(He wouldn’t sell his brother for it, even if all he had of his brother was a surname and some swiftly fading memories.)

But Yu Zhuliu hated his surname and all it represented. He wasn’t like Su She, always thinking of the past and the might-have-beens and growing fat on all his resentment and grievances; if Yu Zhuliu could shed his skin like a cicada, emerge somewhere else a brand-new person, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“It was the Lan sect that saved me,” he said simply. “And so I owed it to them to come here, no matter what the Wen sect offered me.”

The Wen sect. Wow. That was sure some offer to turn down; they commanded the loyalty of over a third of the smaller sects, maybe even close to half, and Yu Zhuliu could have gotten their surname.

Of course, the Wen sect offered that out much more readily than other sects did, but still.

On the other hand, if Yu Zhuliu had accepted, if he’d become Wen Zhuliu, then Su She would never have had the chance to meet him, or would have only met him under bad circumstances.

Maybe he wouldn’t have liked Wen Zhuliu that much at all.

“Your loyalty is admirable,” he finally said, after wracking his brain for something appropriately neutral to say.

That got him another chuckle. “Did you know that lies make you look like you’ve tasted something sour?”

“I,” Su She said with dignity, “am a great liar. You just haven’t noticed it yet.”

Yu Zhuliu was silent for a moment, maybe reviewing things he knew about Su She. “I suppose you probably are,” he said thoughtfully. “Which means it’s the Lan sect that you don’t like.”

Su She shrugged. “I don’t think I’d like any sect,” he confessed, even though he knew he shouldn’t.

Yu Zhuliu’s overwhelming trait was his loyalty, after all – he’d sell Su She out in a heartbeat if he thought the Lan sect deemed it necessary. Su She was mostly just counting on being so pointless and insignificant that Yu Zhuliu wouldn’t think it was worth telling anyone about him.

It probably wasn’t, either. Why would the Lan sect care about someone like Su She one way or another? He wasn’t anything to them, not really; even as a disciple, his only purpose was to act as an adornment, to bring honor and glory that would reflect upwards onto the great clan surnamed Lan.

“Why?” Yu Zhuliu asked. He sounded honestly curious – honestly interested, interested in Su She for something other than being an extra body in a formation or another cannon fodder to throw to the dogs when a night-hunt went badly.

Su She wanted to tell him everything.

But Yu Zhuliu was loyal, always loyal, and Su She may not be as smart as Lan Wangji but he wasn’t stupid.

“They’re all the same in the end, full of arrogant young masters,” he said breezily. “I mean, did you see the group of disasters at Teacher Lan’s lectures?”

Perhaps that was a harsh assessment, but he’d humiliated himself in front of them all on that night-hunt that went wrong against the Waterborne Abyss, with his still-shaky control over his sword, trying as always to live up to Lan Wangji’s example the way they kept always telling him he should and then being looked down upon as an idiot for even trying – why would he do something so stupid obviously he can never match Lan Wangji always aiming above his station and thinks too highly of himself still a servant after all obviously he’ll never be good enough – and the mere thought of them tasted like bile and hatred in his mouth.

“The head disciple from the Jiang sect seemed fairly smart,” Yu Zhuliu said, and Su She scoffed.

“He’s very smart, very smart indeed,” he said scathingly. “So smart that he’s forgotten who he is and where he came from. Eventually someone’s going to remember that he’s a servant’s son, not a proper young master at all, and he’ll pay for it in blood and tears – if he’s lucky.”

“Do you think so?”

“The Jiang heir has an inferiority complex as deep as the ocean –” Su She knew what one looked like; after all, he saw one every day in the mirror. “– and eventually the time will come when he has to be sect leader in his father’s place. On that day, all those pretty words about how wonderful Wei Wuxian is, how smart, how talented, what a credit to his sect, they’ll all fall onto Jiang Wanyin’s ears like a lash on his back. And when the time comes that he has to sacrifice something, well, we’ll see how much being smart helps Wei Wuxian then.”

“An interesting perspective,” Yu Zhuliu remarked.

“An accurate one,” Su She retorted. “He was raised as a proper young master, not a servant, and so he won’t even know to see the danger when it comes. None of them would.”

“No, I suppose not. It’s always the things you don’t know you don’t know that can harm you the most.” Yu Zhuliu straightened up – the laundry was done; they’d finished it ages ago. “We will have to continue this discussion another time, Su-gongzi –”

“Su She, please. Su Minshan, if you must.”

“Su Minshan, then. I look forward to speaking with you again.”

When Yu Zhuliu let, Su She hugged himself in glee, allowing himself a moment of triumph at a successful conversation with the person he liked, then went to wash himself clean again. He wasn’t dirty, and it was the middle of the day, but he wanted to make sure no one could smell the bleaching herbs they put in the laundry on him. He didn’t want to risk any more mockery, and anyway, it had gotten to be a habit.

As he went to the baths, he saw Lan Wangji standing on a nearby pathway, looking up at the sky as if deep in thought. He must be on his rounds again, even though it wasn’t his day for it, or even the right time; he’d taken to haunting the routine work of it as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded.

Whatever. It wasn’t Su She’s business.

Except maybe it was, because Lan Wangji kept – looking at him, over the next few days. Which was weird, because Lan Wangji never looked at anybody, his nose firmly stuck up in the sky where mortals dared not tread, and it was starting to make Su She nervous.

Surely Lan Wangji couldn’t tell – about him. He’d never been able to before, why would he start now?

And yet…what if he could?

What if Lan Wangji had figured him out? Figured out Su She’s rebellious heart, how he wasn’t grateful at all not matter nice a face he put on, how he hated the stupid Lan sect rules and the stupid Lan sect disciples and the stupid Lan sect arrogance, how he secretly schemed to learn everything he could and transcribe everything he couldn’t memorize so that he could take it back home to Moling one day and show his brother everything he’d learned, how he despised them all for their arrogance –

“Will you be attending the archery competition?” Lan Wangji asked stiffly. He did everything stiffy, like he was actually a statute carved out of jade and only just pretending to be human. “At the Nightless City?”

“Naturally,” Su She said, not bothering to look up from the verses he was copying. Not the most polite, not as kiss-ass as he ought to be when faced with the glory that was the second jade of the Lan sect, but he’d found that as long as he kept his tone as formal and humble as possible, he could get away with a little. “It may be nothing like yours, Lan-er-gongzi, but I do have some skill at it, you know.”

Not that most people thought so. They would be travelling to Qishan in three groups, for easier and more secure travel – one for the adults, one led by the Twin Jades to represent the shining hope of their sect, and the last of everyone else making up the numbers. He was in the last group, of course, even though his talent for musical cultivation was one of the strongest in the junior generation and his swordplay good enough to only lose to Lan Wangji three times out of every five – better results than a good half of the group of well-born Lan clansman being sent out as the representatives of their sect.

Was he bitter about it? Yes.

Lan Wangji hesitated for a long moment, and even shifted from one leg to the other – a sign of nervousness in most people, maybe. In Lan Wangji? Who even knew.

After a while, he said, “My group has an extra place,” sounding almost like it was an offer, and the entire thing was so bizarre that Su She immediately became suspicious.  

“What do you want?” he asked.

Lan Wangji blinked at him.

“He who is unaccountably solicitous is hiding bad intentions, Lan-er-gongzi,” Su She clarified, glaring up at him and unable to keep his mouth from twisting as though he’d bitten something sour. He knew he often looked like that, and it made the female cultivators downrate his handsomeness, but he’d been the subject of too many jokes to stop himself from being so bitterly defensive. “You don’t know me, you don’t like me, and you don’t go out of your way to offer a better place to anyone, even if there’s no official rule against it. So what is it you want?”

Lan Wangji shook his head.

“If you don’t want anything, why offer?” Su She sneered. It would be just like Lan Wangji to have decided to recognize a promising disciple that deserve a chance to shine – he was perfect like that, after all, always thinking of others, always a true gentleman. Well, Su She had endured a lifetime of being seen as promising by gentlemen, being recognized as a talent without once being thought of as a person, having to humiliate himself in front of them like a dancing monkey and worst of all of having to be grateful to them for allowing him to do it, and he was sick and tired of swallowing down that bitter draught.

He didn’t need the better spot, not this time – he would be going one way or the other – and he wasn’t willing to give Lan Wangji of all people the satisfaction of doing him a favor he didn’t even want.

Lan Wangji shifted from one side to the other again, waiting a long time before he spoke again. Maybe it was nervousness.

“Yu Zhuliu is in my party,” he finally said.

At first Su She didn’t understand the point Lan Wangji was making, terse and oblique as the other man habitually was, and then he understood it far too well.

He saw red.

“What business is that of yours?” he shouted, dropping his brush and jumping to his feet, forgetting all of his good intentions to try to keep his head down and his tone at least plausibly polite. “So what if I spend some time with him when he’s free? Not every waking hour of his is yours!”

Lan Wangji’s eyes darted from side to side. “No,” he said. “I didn’t mean –”

“You didn’t mean what?!”

“You like him.” A meaningful pause. “Very much.”

“Yes, I do,” Su She said, his cheeks flushed red. “So what? So I cut my sleeve sometimes, big deal. It’s not against any of your stupid rules – every attempt to introduce such a restriction formally has been rejected, I checked. This isn’t something you can punish me for!”

He could, of course. No one would question Lan Wangji issuing yet another punishment – he could say it was due to Su She’s noise, no shouting in the Cloud Recesses – and of course not every type of punishment was the sort that got meted out in the Punishment Hall. There were other types, more insidious – isolation, ostracization, missing out on opportunities for advancement, resources…even merely sentencing him to write lines could be used to deny him his coveted spot at the Nightless City.

Lan Wangji wouldn’t do that, though.

Somehow that just made Su She angrier. Who told Lan Wangji to be so fucking perfect?

“You can add it to your list of achievements,” he adds bitterly. “Everyone knows you’re better than me - better at manners, better at cultivation, better at everything, and now better in this way, too, because I’m a cutsleeve and you’re not –”

Lan Wangji flinched.

Lan Wangji flinched.

Su She’s jaw dropped in shock. “You are?”

Lan Wangji’s features weren’t exactly easy to ready for anyone except Lan Xichen, but at the moment it was plain enough that even Su She could figure out that he was miserable.

“For who?!” A terrible thought slipped into his mind. “It had better not be Yu Zhuliu!”

“No!” Lan Wangji said hastily. “No – no. Not at all.”

“Good,” Su She said fiercely. “Because he’s mine. Or, well, not mine, we haven’t agreed on anything, I haven’t even said anything, but I’m trying and – well, it doesn’t matter. You know what I mean.”

He wasn’t actually sure Lan Wangji did. He wasn’t sure he knew what he meant.

But Lan Wangji nodded, as if his confused rambling had been as clear as a Lan sect rule.

“I thought you might like to spend more time with him,” he said, and – oh. His offer. The Nightless City.

“…I would,” Su She said begrudgingly. “Thanks.”

For Yu Zhuliu, he’d even put up Lan Wangji’s charity.

“Who is it for you, anyway?” he asked, unable to resist and wanting to take advantage of this strange intimacy, this momentary breach of etiquette undoubtedly never to be repeated, but Lan Wangji shook his head, refusing to share. “Fine. Have it your way.”

It wasn’t that he cared, anyway.

Not about Lan Wangji’s mysterious lover, and not about Lan Wangji himself – this wasn’t a charming little flaw that made the whole seem more relatable, wasn’t something that generated fellow feeling, the way Yu Zhuliu’s gentle mockery had. So what if both of them were secretly cutsleeves in a sect that most assuredly did not approve of such things? That didn’t mean anything. It didn’t give them anything in common. They still weren’t the same, not at all, not with Lan Wangji was nobly bearing the burden of it while Su She had given in to temptation almost at once…

No, this was just more of the same.

More of Lan Wangji being, despite all of Su She’s efforts to the contrary, Su She’s idol, his ideal. The person who he hated most because he envied him the most, the person who made him hate himself as being nothing but the lesser copy, the person he despised for making him sometimes feel as if maybe Lan Wangji’s better birth really did entitle him to be better.

So no. He didn’t care.

(It wasn’t that Lan Wangji had seen him, recognized him as something the same. As a person, worthy of recognition, even if not of respect. It wasn’t.)

Maybe he cared a little bit.

He must have cared, or else he would have just run away when the Wen sect descended on the Lan sect with flame and sword instead of being a stupid idiot and going to look for him.

(He told himself it was because Yu Zhuliu would undoubtedly be wherever Lan Wangji was, and it was a pretty decent lie, except that he went to the Library Pavilion and Yu Zhuliu wasn’t there. So he told himself that Yu Zhuliu would have wanted him to protect Lan Wangji, and that lie worked better.)

Of course, once he got there, the stupid noble gentlemanly fucker wouldn’t even listen to him and run.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the important one?” Su She bellowed. This was clearly not the time for manners, and anyway Lan Wangji had already seen beneath his mask once; another time wouldn’t hurt. “Yu Zhuliu’s out there fighting to keep you alive and you’re wasting all his efforts, you’re just standing here, waiting for them to come get you –”

“It is necessary,” Lan Wangji said, solemn as ever. “Someone must keep their attention here, instead of following my brother.”

“Oh fuck you,” Su She said, and took out his sword. Lan Wangji just had to play the fucking brother card, didn’t he?

Yu Zhuliu would want me to do this, he told himself as he tried to fight. He was pretty decent, but he was just a disciple, not a soldier, and as a Lan sect disciple he’d never killed anything before. After a while, he ended up shouting for Lan Wangji to throw him his guqin – the one Su She favored was rented from the sect, lacking as he did the money to purchase her in full, and so he didn’t have it with him – and he attacked with that instead for a while, being better at music than he was at the sword.

The lash of his music was less powerful than Lan Wangji’s single-note waves of power, but Su She was also sneakier about it, and a few unexpected distractions during a battle were much more helpful to Lan Wangji’s defense than any amount of getting himself killed waving a sword around would have.

In the end, unsurprisingly, they were defeated. Su She ended up surrendering in fairly dramatic manner, knowing that the Wen sect might preserve Lan Wangji’s life as a useful hostage but that they couldn’t give a damn about his own and, as always, humiliation was the path to survival; he bet Lan Wangji was already judging him for it, for his weakness, for how pathetic he was when he was sniveling at Wen Xu’s feet as they beat him black and blue to make a point to Lan Wangji, but he didn’t care because he bowed his head and lived while the disciple next to him that didn’t died.

Lan Wangji didn’t bow his head either, but they just broke his leg before throwing them both in a carriage headed to the Nightless City.

The worst of it was, he didn’t even have Yu Zhuliu around to comfort him.

“I ordered him to go with my brother,” Lan Wangji said in belated explanation. “To protect him.”

“You could have said,” Su She said, curled up in the corner of the carriage and feeling sick to his stomach. He should have just run away. He could be in Moling right now if he’d just run away, and who would have known? Of course, then he would have to have left behind all the things he’d prepared, and Yu Zhuliu, too… “Maybe I’d rather have been on that team. Why’d he run, anyway? I bet he had a great reason.”

“He took the key books of our sect –”

Su She rolled his eyes. Of course there was a good nice selfless noble reason for Lan Xichen having fled, leaving his younger brother behind as a sacrifice to cover his tracks – proper young masters never did anything without one of those. It was like they thought that admitting that they were afraid for their lives would be worse than actually dying.

“He took what he could,” Lan Wangji said, his eyes cast down. He wasn’t really talking to Su She. “But so much was still lost.”

Su She thought about all the copies of the books he’d been making, all the knowledge he’d been slowly siphoning away over the course of years, and how they were hidden far away from the main buildings of the Lan sect. He’d probably have more than they did, when this was all said and done, assuming he survived. Wouldn’t that just drive them all up the wall? All those stiff smug elders who thought they were better than him would have to come and beg him to give them the books –

Lan Wangji would, too. Those books were probably his only friends, just as they were Su She’s.

“…maybe not all lost,” he said begrudgingly, and curled up tighter, cursing himself as an idiot.

He might be feeling all warm and fuzzy towards Lan Wangji over something as stupid as a single moment of shared misery, but just because he had feelings about it didn’t mean Lan Wangji did. More than likely, when it came down to it, Lan Wangji would put aside all his noble manners and sell Su She out in a heartbeat, and probably not even count it as a betrayal. After all, in the end, Su She was still just a servant that had temporarily made good, still just cannon fodder, meant to be used and sacrificed for the sake of his better-born master.

At least Lan Wangji had probably given up on expecting him to be grateful about it, given the despicable personality he’d already seen Su She display.

It irritated him how much that mattered.

“There’s always copies, after all,” he added. “And before you say anything, I know it’s not the same as having the original, but it’s worth something, isn’t it?”

He was worth something, even if he was only Lan Wangji’s copy.

“That’s true,” Lan Wangji said. He was quiet for a long while after that, long enough that Su She started seriously considering going to sleep because unconsciousness was preferable to worrying about what was going to happen to them once they got to the Nightless City, and then he said, “You are unhappy.”

Su She turned to goggle at him. “Of course I’m unhappy! The Cloud Recesses was lit on fire, we’re prisoners, we’re probably going to die painfully –”

“Not now. Before.” A pause. “With the sect.”

Su She shut his mouth and glared suspiciously.

“I won’t say anything,” Lan Wangji promised. “I only want to know.”

Su She shook his head stubbornly. “You won’t understand,” he said, a little helplessly, when Lan Wangji continued to look at him, wanting an explanation. “It’s not – something you would understand. You’ve always had everything, all your life.”

Lan Wangji frowned a little, clearly thinking it over, clearly taking it seriously, and for a moment there Su She kind of hated Yu Zhuliu for making him actually like Lan Wangji a little bit. “Not – everything,” he finally said. “My family…”

He trailed off, probably thinking about where they were now. A father locked away in seclusion was different from one on the verge of death; a missing brother, an injured uncle…

Su She huffed and turned his head away, refusing to feel sympathetic. “At least you had them,” he said bitterly. “I haven’t seen my family since they sold me to your sect, and at this point I’m too scared to go visit them.”

“…the Lan sect does not keep slaves.”

“No, of course not,” Su She said. “You just offer people more money than they’ve ever seen in their lives if they’ll hand over their six-year-old son to be properly trained as a servant, because it’s better to get them while they’re young – teach them to be quiet and inobtrusive and grateful for how much better it is to spend their life cleaning up the shit that sticks to your boots. And the worst part is, you are grateful for it, no matter how bad it is, no matter how much you miss your home or your family or your brother, because the buyer could have picked him instead of you and then you’d be the one stuck on some farm somewhere doing nothing with your life, just waiting to see if he’ll come back one day.”

The difference with Su She was that he’d figured out pretty quick that going back wasn’t enough.

When he’d realized how important it was to cultivate a golden core at a young age, he’d saved up every bit of money he could on top of what he sent his family every month, volunteered for every job that paid and even bit his tongue and took out extravagant loans from the sect that he would be paying off for years to come, and he’d hired a rogue cultivator to go teach his brother the basics of cultivation.

He hoped that was enough to make up for all the years he’d been gone, even though he doubted it; he wouldn’t think it was enough, himself, and surely his brother was like him. He was still too young to go outside the sect by himself – he would have to apply for a token, and agree to take someone with him, and he didn’t want to take anyone with him except maybe Yu Zhuliu, who wasn’t an option.

He didn’t want anyone to know if his return home went as badly as he feared it would. If his brother turned out to be as bitter as he was, and turned that bitterness against him –

“You have a brother?” Lan Wangji asked, because of course he’d noticed the important part.

“A twin,” Su She whispered, and turned his face away.

They did not speak again until the Nightless City, and even then it was limited to necessary things, neither of them wanting to risk the fury of their Wen sect guards. After a while, it was announced that the Wen sect would be holding a camp for all young masters, meant to indoctrinate them into righteous conduct, and that they would be attending whether they wanted to or not. They had probably assumed that Su She was well-born because of the fine clothing and fancy hairpiece he wore, and never knew that they were loaned to him by a sect that liked to surround itself with pretty things even if it had to pay for the clothing itself, and Su She had never been happier to be counted among his supposed peers.

Still, when the indoctrination camp began, and Wen Chao – accompanied by three bodyguards at all times, because he was even more of an arrogant snot than even Su She had previously imagined an arrogant young master could be – began lording it over them all, Su She drifted over to Lan Wangji’s side again.

Mostly because no one else would, other than maybe that troublemaker from Yunmeng, Wei Wuxian.

“I know some curses,” he told Lan Wangji, pretending to be casual about it as if he hadn’t accused Lan Wangji’s sect of various awful things. “Really nasty ones. Want me to try one on Wen Chao? I can be subtle.”

“He’d figure out it was you when he checked us all for the inevitable backlash marks,” Wei Wuxian put in. “Then he’d just kill you to get rid of it. Stupid idea.”

“Depends on how quick-acting the curse was,” Su She said peevishly. He hadn’t even been talking to Wei Wuxian, and he hadn’t forgotten who it was that had charged in like a hero from a play to rescue him when he’d overreached himself fighting the Waterborne Abyss even if he doubted Wei Wuxian remembered him in return. “Also, why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be off somewhere drawing fire onto the Jiang sect?”

“What? No,” Wei Wuxian said. “I’m not –”

“I mean, I certainly can’t think of any other reasons for your actions, Wei-gongzi,” Su She said, his voice set at its most simpering. It wasn’t like there were any Lan sect elders here to punish him for being disrespectful, after all, and he figured that helping defend the Library Pavilion with Lan Wangji probably earned him a little space to be himself for once. “Aggravating Wen-gonzi, making light of everything, galivanting around flirting with girls – one might almost feel as if you’re on vacation. Surely your Jiang sect will not have to pay for any of that, politically speaking; it’s not as if the Wen sect thinks of them as one of their greatest rivals and is looking for any chance to cut them down…but no, surely it’s my misunderstanding. I’m sure Wei-gongzi has a thoughtful plan, being such a good servant to his sect.”

Wei Wuxian frowned at him. “But that’s not what I’m doing,” he said, but his voice came out a little weaker this time. “That’s not it at all, I was just…hm. Hey, Jiang Cheng! Jiang Cheng, I have a question for you…”

Su She watched him leave with satisfaction, then turned back to Lan Wangji, who was looking at him again.

“Why do you dislike him?” he asked before Su She could change the subject.

“I don’t dislike him,” Su She said. “I envy him, sometimes. The rest of the time, I pity him.”

“You think Jiang Wanyin will cast him aside, one day,” Lan Wangji said, and Su She thought back to that conversation he’d had with Yu Zhuliu. Lan Wangji had clearly heard more of it than he’d let on.

“Well, yes,” he conceded, because he did. He’d seen how close they were, which was only going to make it worse for them both when it inevitably happened.  

“Would you tell me why? In your own words?”

Su She frowned at Lan Wangji, who raised his hands as if in surrender. “Please.”

Well, if he was going to ask nicely…

Su She decided to pretend that he was talking to Yu Zhuliu.

“Fine. You want my opinion? Whoever raised Wei Wuxian ruined him,” he said bluntly. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but he doesn’t act like a servant – he doesn’t even act like a second son. He acts like a master. He acts like he’s the next heir to the Jiang sect, not Jiang Wanyin; you’ve seen how he’s always bossing him around and refusing to listen to him even when he tells him to behave.”

“He’s his shixiong,” Lan Wangji objected, but mildly.

“For now. Do you really think Wei Wuxian’s going to suddenly learn how to be obedient the second Jiang Wanyin gets instated as sect leader? Or do you think he’ll continue to run rampant, doing just as he likes the way he always has, with Jiang Wanyin bending to his every whim the way he always has? What do you think the cultivation world will think of that?”

Lan Wangji was frowning deeper now, thoughtful.

“The cultivation world isn’t kind to servants who forget their place. If he keeps acting the way he has been, the time will come when he does something so outrages that Jiang Wanyin will have no choice but to throw him away,” Su She concluded. “A servant’s son, however precious, is nothing when weighed against the duty owed to the sect inherited by your ancestors. I mean, even your brother put that first and foremost, and he’s your blood.”

“…I agreed with Brother’s decision.”

“Sure. But did he ask you first?”

Lan Wangji remained quiet.

“If it makes you feel better, there’s always a chance that it won’t become an issue,” Su She continued, mostly to avoid having to listen to Lan Wangji’s injured sort of silence. “Maybe they’ll luck out and instead something will happen to remind Wei Wuxian that he’s a servant and that his job is to throw himself into the abyss to save Jiang Wanyin, probably without even getting thanked for it.”

Lan Wangji looked at him sidelong. After a long few moments of contemplation – Su She really couldn’t stand the way Lan Wangji looked at him, as if he was trying to figure out an interesting puzzle, but he also couldn’t get enough of it, it was horrible – he said, “It will not be that way, with Yu Zhuliu.”

Caught, Su She glared at him.

“How would you solve it?” Lan Wangji asked.

“What?”

“You were a servant, once,” Lan Wangji pointed out. “You are no Yu Zhuliu, no Wei Wuxian, to sacrifice yourself for the Lan sect, and it pains you to pretend to humble yourself before us. What is your solution? You are too clever not to have one.”

Su She wrapped his arms around himself, wishing he didn’t enjoy being called clever as much as he did. It didn’t sound condescending when Lan Wangji said it, the way it did when the Lan sect’s teachers did – like praising a well-performing pet that they’d raised themselves, patting themselves on the back for doing such a good job in training him. He sounded almost as if he resented Su She for being smart enough to see the messy contradiction that was Wei Wuxian’s life, and for being the only person he could ask to shed some light on the subject.

Su She didn’t mind resentment, not even aimed at him. On the contrary, it made it feel real.

Why wouldn’t Lan Wangji resent having to respect someone like him?

“I’m leaving, eventually,” he confessed. “I’m going to start my own sect, or try, anyway, if I can get the money for it from somewhere. Back at home in Moling. Maybe, if I’m very lucky, I’ll be able to convince Yu Zhuliu to come with me, notwithstanding the stupid debt of loyalty he feels he owes your sect.”

Lan Wangji looked contemplative again, surprised but not displeased, as if Su She had suggested something he’d never even considered possible. “What cultivation style will you use?”

“Yours, of course,” Su She said, rolling his eyes at him. “What am I supposed to do, come up with a new one of my own? In what free time, exactly?”

“People will say you’re copying the Lan sect.”

“People have said I’m a copy all my life,” Su She pointed out. “Let the cultivation world sneer and the Lan sect break its rule against gossiping to look down their noses at me – I’ll still be sitting by myself as a sect leader in my own right while they’re just disciples. I’ll make my own rules, admit anyone into the sect that I want, and that’ll be worth all of their disdain.”

He hoped it would be, anyway. He suspected he’d end up being bitter about it, but then again he was always bitter, and anyway, what could he do about it?

If life had taught him one thing, it was that there was no way to make people stop talking, stop mocking, because no matter if he took three baths a day and scrubbed until the blood ran red he would still underneath it all be a servant, a farmer’s son. But he was more than that, he knew he was more than that, and the only alternative – to stay in the Lan sect as a second-class barely-better-than-a-servant for the rest of his life – just wasn’t tolerable.

He’d do what he could and figure out the rest when he came to it.

“You think Wei Wuxian will do the same?”

“Probably?” Su She said and shrugged. “I mean, he has the reputation for being an unorthodox genius, so maybe he’ll come up with his own cultivation style to go with it – you can do things like that when you’re rich and have the time – but as for whether he will form a new sect…how would I know? Maybe he’ll go be a rogue cultivator instead, the way his father did when he got tired of being stuck in the Jiang sect’s shadow. Depends on how many people go with him.”

Lan Wangji hummed thoughtfully. “A rogue cultivator has only to concern himself with his own wellbeing,” he said slowly, as if feeling something out. “A sect – with others.”

“I mean, you could try to take a family around as a rogue cultivator, but I think Wei Wuxian is a walking illustration of why you don’t do that.”

A small flinch. Why were all these well-born sons of the nobility so delicate? It was only loss.

“But you are certain he will go.”

“Well, yes. Either he figures out that he needs to shut up and listen to someone else for once or he leaves, and I don’t think he knows how to listen.” Su She shrugged again. “Why do you care, anyway? He’s Jiang sect. It’s not any of our business.”

Lan Wangji was silent, but somehow it came across as a meaningful silence. An almost pointed silence.  

An embarrassed silence.

“…him, really?” Su She said, twisting around to gawk a little at where Wei Wuxian was having a furious whispered conversation with Jiang Cheng that involved a lot of gestures and even more suspicious looks from the nearby Wen sect guards. “I mean, sure, he’s attractive, no one’s going to deny that – he’s not rated fourth for nothing – but…really? Him? He’s not exactly the quiet-and-thoughtful Lan sect type I thought you’d go for, you know?”

Lan Wangji, with all the great grace and dignity and pomp of a proper young master of high birth and proper breeding, buried his face into his hands.

Su She covered his mouth with his sleeve to keep from laughing at him. It wasn’t exactly nice to laugh at someone who was clearly all too aware of their evidently terrible taste in men.

From the way Lan Wangji glared through his fingers, he wasn’t doing a very good job of muffling his snickers.

It was a good laugh, which was nice because it was the last thing Su She had to laugh about for long while.

The “indoctrination camp” was frankly awful. It wasn’t that he thought being forced to do servant’s work like tilling fields or doing laundry was the worst thing in the world (although he did resent that they didn’t bother paying them for it), and memorizing useless maxims was more or less what the Lan sect excelled at the most, but the constant air of vicious supervision, the threat of punishment, of having the swords they had all worked so hard to obtain taken away from them…

And that was all before they were forced to act as bait in Wen Chao’s night hunt.

“I’m serious,” Su She muttered to Lan Wangji. “I know so many good curses.”

Lan Wangji condescended to elbow him in the side to get him to shut up.

“I miss Yu Zhuliu,” Su She complained instead. “He’s much better company than you are.”

“No one is better company than Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian piped up. He was hanging out by them – not quite with them, but nearby – again.

“I thought the Core-Melting Hand was terrifying,” Jiang Cheng opined. He was following Wei Wuxian, as always, and sticking as close as his shadow, as if he was afraid of losing him. Maybe he was. “All silent and stoic and looming.”

“He doesn’t loom. He’s just tall.”

“All tall people loom. Look at Chifeng-zun, he looms even when he’s sitting down.”

Chifeng-zun, who was the leader of the Nie sect, was, in fact, unreasonably tall and, yes, loomed quite a bit.

“Well, Yu Zhuliu doesn’t,” Sue She said. And then, because he didn’t actually like either of the Jiang sect’s young masters no matter what Lan Wangji might think of them, he added, “Not that you of all people have the place to say anything, Jiang-gongzi. Family shame should not be spread in public.”

He thought that would make an impact, remind them of their manners, but instead all three of them – Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and even Lan Wangji – looked at him in confusion.

“What?” he said, staring at them back. “I know Jiang-gongzi’s maternal family is Meishan Yu…isn’t it?”

“It is,” Wei Wuxian said, sounding baffled. “But what does…wait. Yu Zhuliu – his Yu is Meishan Yu?”

“Yes?” Su She said, looking between them. Yu Zhuliu had said it was no secret, but the junior generation was treating this as if the information had hit them like a sudden landslide: Jiang Cheng had gone white, Wei Wuxian’s jaw was hanging open, and even Lan Wangji’s eyes were as wide and round as the moon. “You didn’t know?”

“I assumed it was another Yu,” Jiang Cheng croaked.

“Meishan Yu probably doesn’t want to admit that one of their own went to work as a servant for another sect after they kicked him out,” Su She concluded. It seemed relatively reasonable to him, but somehow that made all of them look even more upset. “What’s the matter?”

They all just shook their heads and made their way away, looking stunned to a man, and Su She was left to roll his eyes and wonder what in the world made young masters act like that. Something in the water, maybe?

He would curse himself later for making the joke, because there was something in the water of the cave they went to, and that something was, apparently, a corrupted Xuanwu.

(Lan Wangji was still glaring at him for trying to pull the girl out when Wen Chao’s whore demanded it, but it wasn’t his life on the line if the Wen sect went through with their threat to start slaughtering disciples left and right if they couldn’t get to her. Anyway, it wasn’t like he wouldn’t be able to cut her in a way that let out a bit of blood but left her the mobility she might need to escape – she was a cultivator, too! What did it matter that she was a woman?)

Wei Wuxian was holding the Xuanwu’s attention with a fire talisman, and Jiang Cheng was leading the disciples to the pool with the water, which Lan Wangji had identified as containing an exit…as usual, all the young masters were showing their stuff. In a burst of resentful fury, the sort he hadn’t had in weeks, Su She leaned down and grabbed a bow and some arrows. If he shot the Xuanwu’s eye, he might be able to –

A hand fell on his shoulder, and Su She turned to look.

Lan Wangji shook his head. He didn’t seem angry about the girl anymore.

“Keep them,” he said, nodding at the arrows. “There will be Wen sect soldiers waiting for us outside.”

“You don’t think I can make the shot,” Su She accused, feeling obscurely betrayed. “You scored so high in the archery competition – I bet you think you could do better, is that it? You want –”

“If you miss, you may anger it further,” Lan Wangji said. “And I have promised Yu Zhuliu that I would see you safe.”

Su She’s anger was extinguished as quickly as a candle blowing out. “You – did? He asked about me?”

“Before he left with my brother.”

“You should’ve said something,” Su She grumbled, but he let himself be lured into allowing Lan Wangji to use him as a crutch as they waded into the water. At the last moment, Wei Wuxian threw the fire talisman into the air and ran after them, causing the Xuanwu to go crazy and chase, and then there was a bit of frantic swimming – it felt more like drowning, even with Wei Wuxian leading the way for them both – before they got to the other side.

“I’m going to be sick,” Su She groaned, spitting up water, and then he still had to sit up and shoot an arrow back at one of the Wen sect guards that, as Lan Wangji had predicted, were out there.

Of course, a few seconds later the Xuanwu came bursting out of the side of cave, so they all had a whole different set of problems to deal with.

At least the Wen sect mostly ran away.

(Not all of them. A few of them stuck around to shoot some arrows at them – every bad thing Su She had ever thought about any young master, he thought twice for the Wen sect.)

“Next time we deal with this inside the cave,” Su She shouted, running for cover. He was able to get the arrow into the Xuanwu’s eye the way he had planned to in the cave when he finally had a little time to stand and aim – admittedly, he might’ve missed in the cave, he never shot half as well when he was angry – and in the end Lan Wangji shouted something about Chord Assassination and Wei Wuxian had a brilliant-stupid idea about using it like a spider web to make a net and Jiang Cheng swam like a fish to lure it through the right spot and all together with a bunch of the others they ended up chopping the Xuawnu’s head off.

Well, chopping was the wrong word. More like a shichen or more or wretched sawing using Chord Assassination as a garotte, relying mostly on Lan Wangji’s arm strength – Su She and the few other Lan disciples that knew the trick were holding the strings down with burning bleeding fingers, an essential part of the process but ultimately only a prop to help Lan Wangji do what he needed – and by the time it was done their robes were more red and crusted brown than white no matter how many bleaching herbs and special arrays had been used.

“All right, the threat is gone,” Su She said, feeling bitter again as he scanned the treeline. He didn’t even know what the bitterness was about this time. “Can we go already?”

“You can come to Yunmeng,” Jiang Cheng said. “It’s closest.”

No one disagreed.

More or less the second after they arrived, just as soon as they’d had baths and a change of clothing, Lan Wangji wanted to go back to the Cloud Recesses or to travel around looking for Lan Xichen. He looked strange in borrowed Yunmeng purple, even if they’d politely given him the lightest and bluest shade they had – really it was at best a pale lavender at best – but that sure didn’t seem to bother Wei Wuxian from the way he kept gawking at Lan Wangji when he thought Lan Wangji wasn’t looking.

“If you don’t trust your brother, trust Yu Zhuliu,” Su She told Lan Wangji irritably after yet another request that was swiftly denied. He’d made a half-hearted effort to remember his manners after the stress of the moment had passed, but Lan Wangji seemed unhappy any time he did so now he was back at being a bit more of his awful actual self. Of course, Lan Wangji liked Wei Wuxian so maybe he just had a kink for rude people? “Do you really think he’d take him anywhere you could find him?”

“Then I should be at the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Wangji said firmly. “To help rebuild –”

“To help make them a target again, you mean?” Su She said scathingly. “Did you forget, somehow, that you’re still a valuable hostage? That they’ll be expecting you to go back? Or is it just that all that nobility is starting to make your brain rot, you stupid fucker?”

Lan Wangji glared at him, tight-lipped, and stalked away, which meant that Su She’s point had probably been taken and they could have at least a little rest before having to start running again.

Before the war started. War, which terrorized the common people…

He needed to go to Moling to check on his family. Even if his brother rejected him, as he feared, he had to go – better rejected than bereaved, surely..?

Consumed with dark thoughts, Su She didn’t notice that he wasn’t alone until he walked straight into Wei Wuxian’s chest.

(Why were they all so tall?)

Wei Wuxian was glaring at him. “Listen,” he said, sounding angry. “Listen, whatever your name is, you can’t talk to Lan Zhan like that –”

Su She punched him in the face.

Wei Wuxian stared up at him in shock from where he’d fallen on his ass on the ground, but Su She didn’t care; he turned on his heel and stormed off, his face hot with rage and shame and bitterness.

“On second thought, we can leave right now,” he spat at a shocked-looking Lan Wangji. “I’m not staying here one more fucking second.”

Whatever your name is.

Like they hadn’t just gone through life and death together, hadn’t fought side by side, like he hadn’t risked his life on Wei Wuxian’s stupid plan, none of that mattered; he wasn’t important enough for Wei Wuxian to remember his name. People like him really were nothing but side characters to people like Wei Wuxian, weren’t they? Their lives, their hopes, their dreams, their bitterness – all irrelevant. An aside at best, mere marginalia, a splash of color to liven up the background.

Su She would bet money that Wei Wuxian knew the names of all the rich young masters that had attended classes with them, whether he liked them or he didn’t. He even knew the name of that little Wen clan member that he’d so bravely stood up for during the archery competition. But not Su She’s name, no, even though he’d been so graciously suffering all of the stupid back-and-forth pining Wei Wuxian had been doing with Lan Wangji, even though he’d let himself foolishly believe that because he and Lan Wangji had something in common that they might be something like friends or at least companions, that he might be treated as an equal –

No, these stupid rich young masters were all the same. He’d been right the first time.

Actually, now that he thought about it, why was he even here? Did he really think Lan Wangji would take his side over Wei Wuxian, who wasn’t only his peer in every sense of the word but also his beloved?

What a waste of time.

Su She left again. He wasn’t stupid enough to try to walk away just as he was, no matter how furious; how far would he get with no money, no food, and even his sword back in Wen custody? Instead he made his way down to the kitchens to ask for travel rations that could last for a while, and planned to visit the armory to borrow a sword after that. He’d need to pack lightly, but comprehensively: who knew how far the Wen sect’s influence spread? He might not be able to risk going into the cities and towns on the way to get supplies, not even wearing borrowed Yunmeng robes – even if he hid the incredibly obvious white forehead ribbon with a hat, he still walked like someone from the Lan sect, something he’d only really noticed once he was surrounded by people who slouched and bent and took large ground-eating steps instead of the sedate pace that he couldn’t quite break the habit of using.

“Su She,” Lan Wangji said from the door to the room they’d been given. Su She didn’t look at him or stop stuffing the travel rations and the spare robes he’d obtained into a qiangkun pouch.

“If you’re coming here to scold me about hitting Wei-gongzi, spare me,” Su She said stiffly. “We’re not in the Cloud Recesses; you don’t have any role over discipline here –”

“The silencing spell would have been more effective.”

Su She blinked, surprised by the apparent non-sequitur, and turned to look at him. “What?”

“To silence him,” Lan Wangji clarified, meaning Wei Wuxian.

As if that was the problem with what Su She had done.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng piped up – Su She hadn’t seen him standing by Lan Wangji’s side. “Hitting doesn’t work, he just pops right back up again. Please ignore him in the future; he’s an idiot.”

Well, Su She couldn’t disagree with that.

“You have a guest,” Jiang Cheng added. He looked almost – nervous? “Could – would you introduce us? Properly, this time.”

Su She couldn’t think of anyone he knew that Lan Wangji didn’t also know. Why would they ask him? The only person –

He stiffened abruptly, hope welling in his stomach. “Yu Zhuliu? He’s here?”

“Brother sent him to check on me,” Lan Wangji said. “And to tell me to stay where I am. You were right.”

It was – immensely gratifying to hear that.

“He and Mother are having tea,” Jiang Cheng added, looking impressed. “She insisted. It’s so weird.”

Yu Zhuliu looked the same as he always did, when Su She finally got to see him: tall and broad-shouldered, steady as a mountain, untroubled by wind or rain. There were a few points of similarity between his face and Madame Yu’s, if you looked for them, and he seemed pleased by her surprisingly gracious reception – when they spoke about it later, it turned out that he greatly admired her, the famous (or infamous) Violet Spider who had made a name for herself as a fierce warrior and top-grade cultivator, and who had never looked down at him for his birth when they’d both been younger.

Wei Wuxian didn’t apologize at any point, though he also didn’t call Su She out as the cause for his black eye. Instead, he opted to act as though their earlier confrontation had never happened, bounding into the room Su She shared with Lan Wangji – no one else rose at the same hour they did – and insisting on taking them around to see the sights of the Lotus Pier, to spend a day on a boat, another picking lotus seeds, and yet another shooting down kites.

Su She refused to go shoot down kites, not wanting to risk humiliation at something he was actually pretty decent at by competing at archery against Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Wangji, and spent the day with Yu Zhuliu instead.

“I missed you,” he blurted out instead of saying something reasonable. “I mean – not that I wanted you to be there and suffering, it was pretty awful, and who knows what the Wen sect might have tried to get you to do, it’s just – you know – ”

Yu Zhuliu was a reserved man who did not speak much. He put his hand on Su She’s and said only, “I know.”

Su She swallowed, and stared down at the hand that rested on him. It was a good hand, to his mind: broad in the palm, with short fingers that were the exact opposite of the long graceful ones favored by the Lan sect, but it did its vicious work well enough that the whole cultivation world knew about it – the whole cultivation world feared it.

Su She had never once worried about it. That probably made him a fool.

“Yu Zhuliu,” he said, very cautiously, even though he knew he shouldn’t speak; it was him being a fool again, except only this time he was a fool a hundred times over. “I know – I know that the Lan sect is very important to you. They rescued you at a bad moment in your life, and you owe them your loyalty; I understand that. But…do you think...maybe – one day in the future…”

Yu Zhuliu was looking at him steadily. He didn’t pull back his hand.

Su She gathered up his courage. “I’m going to go home to Moling, someday. Maybe even someday soon. And when I do, I’m not – I’m not going to go back to the Lan sect afterwards. I’m going to start my own sect, if I can manage it. When I do, would you – consider coming with me?”

He waited for Yu Zhuliu’s response with bated breath.

Yu Zhuliu looked serious and thoughtful, and he opened his mouth to respond –

There was a giant clatter from outside their door. “Wen sect!” someone shouted. “They’re here!”

Su She and Yu Zhuliu looked at each other, alarmed, and rushed out.

Unfortunately, that just meant they got a front row seat to the travesty that happened next.

Su She felt sick to his stomach: he’d predicted long ago that Wei Wuxian would one day rediscover that the Jiang sect saw him as only a servant, as something that could be sacrificed for the good of the sect, but each sizzle and snap of Zidian on Wei Wuxian’s back made him feel worse and worse. Su She’d been beaten plenty of times before, even whipped on occasion, but then again he’d never really taken the Lan sect to heart as his family – it wasn’t Wei Wuxian’s fault that he’d been so badly raised, tricked into thinking that they loved him like one of their own, into acting like a proud and arrogant young master who had a family that would hold up the world for him no matter what he did.

“She’s pulling the blows,” Yu Zhuliu murmured in his ear, too low for anyone else to hear, and that helped, a little. But not that much, since it was clear that Jiang Cheng, horrified, couldn’t tell, when it wasn’t clear if Wei Wuxian could, and then in the end it turned out to be all for nothing because Wang Lingjiao still demanded his hand.

Worse: he wasn’t sure if it was that, or the casual mention of a supervisory office, that was the step too far for Madame Yu.

Su She did not especially appreciate Madame Yu’s comments about Wang Lingjiao’s status as a servant, unsurprising and almost expected though they might be – although in a moment of horror-stricken hysteria he noticed that her words made Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Wangji simultaneously flinch and glance over at him in concern, apparently all to a one forgetting the circumstances they were all in out of fear of his sharp tongue – but seeing her beat up the disgusting Wang Lingjiao was oddly gratifying.

Right up until the Wen sect guards she had brought with her started attacking from the inside, while from outside the sound of bombardment began – Wen sect’s armies had been lying in wait.

“Kill them!” Wang Lingjiao screeched the second she was free to do so, lunging forward with claws extended at Madame Yu’s face. “Kill them all –”

She never got that far.

Yu Zhuliu’s palm caught her dead in the belly, the force of it throwing her backwards into the arms of one of her guards, who quickly scurried away with her.

“A waste,” Madame Yu said, straightening her clothing. “Of your abilities, primarily. Did she even have enough of a golden core to justify melting?”

Yu Zhuliu didn’t bother responding, drawing his sword, and the next thing Su She knew they were all being given swords from dead Wen sect guards and heading out into the battlefield.

“Oh, I really hate this,” Su She said, looking down at the one he was given. As a Wen sect blade, it wouldn’t have any pity on him, and he didn’t think he was good enough to avoid getting skewered the first second he got angry and stopped paying attention to all of his weak spots. “Doesn’t anyone have a spare guqin I can use instead? I know some really good attack songs.”

“I think I have one in my room, actually,” Wei Wuxian said, and led him away from the others, limping only a little. Madame Yu really must have been pulling her strikes – not that Su She hadn’t believe Yu Zhuliu, of course, but still.

“You play?” Su She asked as they hurried through the hallways. “I thought you used a dizi.”

“I – considered picking it up. Briefly.”

“Just kiss him already,” Su She advised, deciding to try to be nice for once. “It’ll be faster, and your reception will be warm.”

“Kiss…who?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of genius?” Su She growled, and took the never-used guqin. It had been impossible to use anything more than the most straightforward sound attacks when they’d been fighting at the Cloud Recesses, given how many Lan sect disciples and even servants cultivated with music, but here at the Jiang sect where just about everyone was a swordsman first, musician later, and only Lan Wangji to compete with, Su She had a bit more freedom to go find a nice safe spot near the walls to play.

He wasn’t a guqin player on Lan Wangji’s standard – it still burned to admit it even if he maybe didn’t hate him as much as he used to – but he’d spent an awful lot of time in the library looking for things he could use when he was building his own sect and, well, he’d always liked the weird stuff.

“Wait, are you playing ‘Banish Evil’?” Jiang Cheng asked at one point, hopping over a wall to get near enough to ask.

“What? No. Are you deaf? They barely sound alike,” Su She said. “Now get out of range already before it you’re affected.”

Not long after, the effect started to show, with Wen sect cultivators falling left and right out of the sky above his head once their qi started locking up in response to his music.

Had he looked up a method to lock someone’s qi through music just because it reminded him of Yu Zhuliu? No, but it sure did help motivate him in learning the abstruse and needlessly complicated finger-work for something that, yes, okay, maybe sounded a little bit like ‘Banish Evil’, but not enough for people not to immediately call him out on what would otherwise sound like an incredibly bad rendition of that song.

“Once formed, your sect will be immensely unpopular,” Lan Wangji informed him as he flew by on his sword, his own musical cultivation acting as a shield to allow him to fight unaffected by Su She’s music.

Su She grinned down at the guqin and thought to himself that he’d be keeping this one. They could consider it payment for having made him have to put up with Wei Wuxian.

At some point in the battle, Sect Leader Jiang returned and ended up fighting back to back with his wife, which – once the battle was over – turned into a shouting match.

Yu Zhuliu, when he arrived, took one look and his eyebrows went up. “Perhaps we should assist with clean-up on the pier,” he said, delicately enough that Su She immediately figured out what he was implying.

“Yeah,” he said, covering up his smirk with his sleeve. “Let’s go quickly.”

“Don’t you two worry about our feelings getting hurt by it,” Wei Wuxian said, sounding amused, as Jiang Cheng nodded along. “We’re more than used to them fighting.”

“Is that what you call it in the Jiang sect?” Su She sniggered, unable to resist, and both of them paled.

“How would you even know about that?” Jiang Cheng eventually recovered enough to volley back. “Being from the Lan sect and all – I’m amazed it isn’t against one of your rules.”

“Su She is starting his own sect,” Lan Wangji, appearing from who-knows-where, interjected. “With fewer rules.”

“Wait, really?” Jiang Cheng asked, looking – he looked impressed, actually. “A sect of your own? That’s amazing!”

Su She flushed, his face hot and red at once. No one had ever said anything positive about his idea before. “Not anytime soon,” he demurred. “I mean, even a small cultivation sect has to have money enough to buy a house – pay for swords, musical instruments, things like that – and I’m broke.”

“Oh, money,” Wei Wuxian said, in a tone of someone who’d never had to do without, and Su She was already starting to secretly plan his murder – yes, he was aware that Wei Wuxian had reputedly spent some time on the streets as an orphaned child and no, he did not care – when he added, carelessly, “You helped save our home, the least we can do is give you something to help start yours.”

Su She stopped dead. “Are you serious?”

“Certainly,” Jiang Cheng said, and fuck, they were being serious. That was the Jiang sect heir saying he would give him money, not a servant, someone whose words could plausibly be held to be binding on the rest of his sect. “Do you have a plan for what cultivation style you’ll teach new disciples?”

“Uh,” Su She said. His mind was blank. “I was just planning on using the Lan sect techniques.”

Wei Wuxian looped an arm over his shoulder. “With some innovations, thought, right? That qi-locking music was pretty nice, and I’ve never seen it used before.”

Su She puffed up a little. It was pretty nice, good of Wei Wuxian to recognize that – and he hadn’t even seen the teleportation talisman Su She had been painstakingly teaching himself how to use!

“Nor I,” Lan Wangji said, and looked pointedly at Su She. “I suspect it comes from the forbidden section of our library.”

“No, it isn’t,” Su She said immediately, holding up his hands. He knew what the punishment was for going in there without permission. “Not the forbidden, but the forgotten – I was one of the people assigned to sort through old inheritances. Books from abroad, obscure books no one ever bothered categorizing, that sort of thing. The big jumble in the basement of the secondary library…you know, the fire hazard. The one that blew up in the Wen sect’s faces when they tried to light it.”

“You remember enough of them to make it work?” Jiang Cheng asked, now looking even more impressed.

“Well, no,” Su She admitted. “But I made copies of everything that looked interesting and hid them in an abandoned root cellar halfway down the road to Caiyi Town, so they should still be intact.”

Lan Wangji lit up, which for him was a slight bit of color to his cheeks, a slight arch to his eyebrows, a faint curve to his eyes – in other words, he was positively glowing. “Would you permit copies to be made of your copies? We would gladly pay for the privilege.”

“And if you put that together with our money, and you should definitely have enough to fund a sect,” Wei Wuxian said enthusiastically. “And we can come visit!”

“Sooner rather than later, actually,” Jiang Cheng said, rubbing the back of his head. “Before the yelling started, Mother and Father agreed that we younger generation should lie low somewhere for a few weeks somewhere obscure to avoid any immediate reprisals from the Wen sect – and once they’ve lost the trail, we go out to recruit new sects to join the war.”

“That would be in line with what Brother requested that I do,” Lan Wangji observed, voice carefully neutral as always. “I would not object to spending some time in Moling, courting a newly formed sect.”

Su She didn’t know what to say, his mouth moving open and closed. It was almost everything he’d ever wanted, and he only need to reach out and grasp it – his own sect, his brother, the respect of the arrogant young masters…

Nothing could be better.

A hand fell on his shoulder, the warmth of it lighting him up inside.

“Our sect would be happy to host you,” Yu Zhuliu said.

Su She was wrong.

Now

it was perfect.

[pigeonp0st]

Kara Danvers x Reader #8

Words: 2,333

Summary: reader trades half her life for Kara’s

Warnings: Death, Depression

Notes:

I just wanted to nerd about philosophy and ponder about psychological egoism and it turned into this...sorry about spelling mistakes.

———

Psychological egoism; the theory that no one can truly be selfless. The theory that, even when we’re helping others, deep down we’re acting in our own self-interest.

When you came across the theory a couple of months ago you thought it was ridiculous. It was something you couldn’t believe, not when your girlfriend seemed like the paragon of selflessness.

Kara.

Kara who risks her life everyday for the people of National City, Kara who risks her life for the world. Kara who has lost, and Kara who keeps on fighting anyways. Kara who cares, who cares so much.

Kara gives, and she gives, and she gives, and she’s dying because of it now, so she isn’t a bad person. She isn’t a bad person, but now you’re starting to think that selfishness doesn’t necessarily need to mean bad. When selfishness brings you to help others, it isn’t a bad thing. It can’t be.

You don’t want to be a bad person. You have to believe that the decision you made an hour ago was the right one, because when the disfigured voice spoke to you with it’s compelling offer of; half of your life for Kara’s survival/revival...you couldn’t say no.

———

When Kara wakes up from her coma a day later, not even the mystery voice saying: “it’s done” in it’s weird enchanting voice keeps you from your relief and joy.

If your decision was ‘selfishy good’ in nature, if it was just selfless, or even if it was just plain selfish...well, you can’t really bring yourself to care right now because Kara is smiling and hugging you and...and fuck everything else.

This is worth it. Even if you hit the halfway point of your life tomorrow and die...this is worth it. It’s Kara. Kara who sacrifices a lot, but Kara whose worth sacrifices too. So yeah. ‘It’s done’... and it’s okay.

———

It’s not okay.

It’s not okay because when you get into a near death experience a year after Kara looks at you like she just experienced another world dying.

She holds you when you wake up in the hospital bed like you’re made of glass. She holds you like you’re the most precious thing on earth.

It’s not okay because it’s unfair, because it hurts how much you’re going to hurt her, because even while the decision you made a year ago isn’t something you’d change, you hate it anyways.

It’s not okay because Kara proposes to you. She proposes to you right there, with you in the hospital bed. She proposes to you and makes a beautiful speech talking about forever, talking about happinesses. She paints a beautiful picture of the future with her words, because she’s Kara Danvers the Pulitzer Prize winner, and you want.

You want. Desperately.

You can’t have.

Kara says, with her beautiful tear streaked cheek, with her embarrassed eye shifting, “I can’t imagine my life without you,” and suddenly ‘want’ turns into hatred. Not hatred…

It turns into rage. Rage, and helplessness, so much helplessness, and pain. All consuming pain. Pain that floods your eyes with tears until your choking on sobs, until your body is shaking. Pain.

Pain that Kara doesn’t understand—can’t understand because you’ve never been able to tell her about the sacrifice you made a year ago.

She gets her own type of pain though, when you force out a trembling, and raspy; “No—no Kara. No.”

“What?” Kara asks, with a look that’s somehow disbelieving, and unsurprised. Like a part of her always expects to not be enough.

You shut your eyes against the look on her face—against the deathly silent—and you wish for different. You wish to be in another timeline where things don’t hurt as much, you wish for a timeline where the offer of forever with the women you love isn’t just waking up everyday for as long as you have left wondering if it’s the day your forever is cut short too soon.

It doesn’t work.

The pain, the helplessness, the rage, it leads to you doing something selfish, but this time there’s no question about whether or not it’s the ‘good selfish’. It’s just selfish. It’s selfish but you’re tired, so you tell Kara about that day a year ago where she shouldn’t have woken up from her coma.

You weren’t going to tell her because you know Kara, you know that she’ll try to change your fate if it’s the last thing she does, and you know that when it eventually fails it’ll crush her completely, because being brave enough to hope then having it squashed...it’s awful.

——-

When you’re done with your retelling you say, “I don’t want to be alone anymore,” with a look on your face that Kara never wanted to see, a look that can only be described as...heavy. Unbearably heavy.

Kara’s own face is full of darkness. There’s a hauntedness about her as she sits silently in her seat, staring at you, and it’s scary because Kara isn’t here anymore. Not mentally.

——-

It takes nearly half an hour for Kara to come back, and when she does she doesn’t react the way you expect her to. You expect sobs and pleas, and hope, and anger.

What you get instead is her arm pulling you into a hug, and her face pressed against your neck, and silent tears wetting the collar of your hospital gown.

What you get is fear. Her fear that sits over you like a blanket.

And an hour later, what you get is a whispered, “Why does it feel like nothing in life will ever go right?”

“I’m sorry, Kara,” you say, though you aren’t. “Saving you was practically saving the world...you’re a hero.” You know Kara doesn’t think she’s worth it as is. Appealing to her hero is the only way you can think to make her understand.

“I know you’re tired of hurting—”

“Please,” Kara cuts in. You feel her jaw clench. “I never asked you to defend yourself. What’s done is done, I just want to lay here.”

Lay here and pretend her world hasn’t been shattered. Lay here and not think about the future, or the past.

“I just…” you pause, pulling away to examine Kara’s face. “I feel like i’ve just really hurt you in a big way.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Kara says, and it sounds like a plea. “I don’t want to— Fuck.”

And now she’s sobbing, and you’re pulling her back into the hug while she shakes her head over and over again, while she squeezes her eyes shut.

These were the sobs you were expecting. These sobs that only someone who has lost as much as Kara can manage. They’re loud and full of heartbreak, she’s shouting broken questions that aren’t for you all the while, and this was what you were expecting but it’s...it’s unfair.

——-

Her emotions change quickly during her processing period but none of it is anger...it’s all just sort of defeat manifested in different ways.

Kara feels defeated. She feels helpless...and this isn’t what you wanted.

——-

It’s two weeks after the incident in the hospital that Kara decides it’s time to actually talk about ‘it’ with you. You know she’s been going to Alex and her friends for advice, you’re glad she’s finally going to you.

“I feel like I'm mourning you while you’re still alive, and I hate it,” Kara admits, eyes downcast. “I hate that I feel like I can’t talk to you, because I know you didn’t want to tell me for a year because you didn’t want to make me sad and-”

“And that’s exactly what you are,” you finish for her, laughing in a way that’s not at all humorous.

Kara closes her eyes, and whispers, brokenly, “I'm so sad,” in her agreement. “I’m sad, I'm lost, I'm angry, I'm desperate...I don’t know how to feel yet I feel so much—I just—Rao Y/N, I just want you to be okay,” Kara says, and you know. You know. Have known since last year, watching Alex brokenly try to tell you that Kara might not make it this time. You know how it hurts.

It hurts hearing that the person you love is going to die. It hurts in an all encompassing way that makes the future seem so terrifying.

But there’s nothing that can save you now.

“Lena is- she’s trying to find a way.”

That doesn’t really surprise you. You used to believe that there was nothing Lena couldn’t do if she really wanted it...but this...well it has to be impossible. How are you supposed to change the fate granted to you by a higher being…?

“Alex is trying too,” Kara says, “she and Brainy are contacting everyone they can think of to help you.”

The thought of your friends fighting so hard for you makes your eyes water and your chest hurt. The Superfriend always land on top when they work together, they always win...

“How?” You ask, your voice trembling on the word. “Kara, how?”

Kara glances up from where she was glaring holes into the edge of the couch to look at you. She hesitates for a moment before saying; “they believe that if they can somehow grant you immortality they can save you…”

No.

“Kara,” you whisper, feeling a large amount of guilt, “I don’t want to live forever.”

And Kara knows. She knows but— “but then you won’t even have a full life,Y/N.”

She sounds so terrified again, when she says that, that you can’t even say anything in response but shake your head.

“If you’re supposed to die,” Kara pauses, studying your face, “am i supposed to- do you just want me to just let you?”

She sounds repulsed by the idea...but…

“Yes, Kara. Yes. You’re supposed to let me.”

The, ‘I don’t believe you can change this and I don’t want this to hurt you more than it should’, goes unsaid by you.

———

Kara doesn’t listen. She tries, and she tries, and she tries, for months, and only months because you die 5 months after your initial accident.

The doctors have no clue why...you just pass peacefully in your sleep one day and leave Kara to wake up next to you trying to shake you awake and pleading for you to just “wake up, please, please.”

Kara is devastated.

More devastated than any of her friends expects, more devastated than Alex expects. They’re trying to help her but they lost you too and everything is just harder because of it.

Kara tries for revival. She asks John Constantine and everyone she can think of but everything doesn’t work and eventually Alex has to force her to stop.

After is what Kelly calls Kara’s second phase of grief. Her first stage, denial, went longer than Kelly expected so she expects the second phase to last a long time too.

It doesn’t. Kara’s anger seeps out of her quickly.

Stage three doesn’t last long either. The “what if’s” and “if only’s” just feel pointless to Kara.

She settles into stage four though. She settles into it and stays. Depression fills all the empty spaces in her apartment where you used to be, and it tries to fill the place in her heart that used to be for you. Depression stays.

Kara avoids going home because it isn’t home anymore. It’s the place you died. It’s the place where your things are scattered around everywhere like they belong, but they don’t belong anymore, because you aren’t there. You aren’t there, so the stupid mug on the nightstand shouldn’t be there anymore but it is.

You aren’t there so your clothes shouldn’t still be in her closet, and your toothbrush should be in the trash, and everything should just be gone. Everything should just be gone because you aren’t- you aren’t there.

You aren’t there and Kara hurts, because you’re supposed to be home. You’re supposed to be home with her. You're supposed to be her home.

You can’t be anymore.

Kara grows to hate the word “forever” because it’s just a whole bunch of lies, she grows to hate the word “sorry” because it’s all anyone ever says to her anymore, she grows to hate people saying “you’ll be okay” because she won’t be.

She grows to hate the word “hope.”

Hope people say, as if hope isn’t just denial trying to look pretty. Hope as if doing so isn’t just deluding yourself so things feel worth it.

Lena tells her one day that there needs to be hope, because there needs to be light. Without it you’re just lost in the darkness.

Lena tells her that but she looks uncertain, like she believes the ‘light’ is just a myth or a trick of the eye meant to just keep you moving.

So Kara hates hope, and she hates lies, but she loves love.

She loves the love, and support, and all of the things her friends give each other to make everything better for a while.

Kara hates hope but she still believes in trying anyways, so she begins to try after a while. She tries to get more sleep, she tries to spend more time with her friends, she tries to talk about feelings, and she tries to make fighting feel worth it.

She tries but she still misses. She misses desperately, but she eventually hits the final stage of acceptance.

Acceptance doesn’t feel like the final stage because Kara still hurts, and she still wants things she can never have, but she never even imagined she’d get here a year ago when you were lifeless in her bed—so this is fine.

This is fine. Kara finally places the mug on your nightstand in the sink and sobs while she washes it, but this is fine.

This is fine.

Kara wanted more than fine. She wanted you.

[newsies-of-corona]

Varian & Affirmation

Analysis:

And we’ve got another one, folks! This one hit hard for me for sure. Just the way that the show set it up...it’s incredible. So without any further adieu...

“Well, shall we get started?”

Motives

So I’m just going to come right out and say it: Varian is selfish in Season 1. The whole way through. (Now don’t leave yet! If you know me you know how much of a fan I am of this complex alchemist and this is not a hate post by all means!)

But yes. Throughout the whole of Season 1, Varian has a very self-centered mindset that’s hard to pick up on at first, but it’s there. Here’s some dialogue examples:

“I am sure that I, Varian, can unlock the mystery of your hair with the power of science!”

“Hey Flynn Rider? Wanna come with?”

“It doesn’t matter. The truth is all I really wanted to do was impress you, I thought that if I showed you what I was capable of you might see something in me.”

“Actually he’d probably be impressed. At least I hope he’d be impressed.”

Most of these quotes sound perfectly innocent, and they are! But it’s the motives behind them that make them more self-centered. Varian’s main goal, his life blood practically, is affirmation. He yearns to be adored and recognized for his achievements. It’s a perfectly normal and human want. I myself struggle with this all the time. But when it’s the only thing that you strive for? The only thing that makes you happy? It effects everything that you say and do. If you dig deep into these quotes, you can see what he’s really craving.

By discovering the mystery of Rapunzel’s hair, Varian gets credit and especially admiration. By showing his idol his inventions, he’s expecting Eugene to tell him what a genius he is or how amazed he is that this fourteen year old kid could build all this. The third one is just wanting Cassandra to recognize him since he looks up to her, and went to great lengths to impress her. Even when he helped her, it was still because he wanted to impress her and get her to help him in return. Throughout that episode he’s trying so hard to get her to compliment his work. In three of these examples, he gets the adoration he asked for. But that’s the problem: he asked for it. Eugene and Cass essentially tell him the same thing, “you’re a great, smart kid with good intentions.” And both times he responds more...despondently. For Cass it’s “thanks for saying that.” For Eugene it’s just looking at him sadly because this wasn’t what he wanted to hear. In essence: it isn’t enough.

And the last quote obviously represents the affirmation he craves the most, his father’s, and the one that he doesn’t get.

Even slight comments like “I build it myself,” “of my own design,” and “wanna see my new invention?” all have the underlying motive of craving affirmation from his peers. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but since Varian often has tunnel-vision and can’t see the consequences of his actions, it quickly becomes an issue. Especially in the case of, of course, the black rocks.

Taking it Too Far

We find out that Varian discovered the rocks in Great Expotations. Rapunzel inadvertently tasked him with figuring out how to get rid of them, and in his mind he needed to. To impress her and possibly all of Corona. So he ran tests and got reprimanded by his dad probably more than once. But this is the biggest thing he could ever do: rescue his village and the kingdom and make his dad proud in the process. That’s why he wanted to come with him and hopefully talk to the king. Yes, in this case he actually wants to help his village, he’s not heartless and he cares a lot, but he’s predominantly focusing on the rewards that will come after he figured it out.

Of course we know his plans go awry again, but he never stops focusing on his goal of making his dad proud of him. Seriously...NEVER.

Taking it WAY Too Far

Enter: Villain Arc. Suddenly his need to be adored and affirmed flips upside down. He doesn’t want compliments anymore, he wants people to fear him, respect him, and listen to him.

Examples:

“I have asked for help and have been ignored, I will not be ignored any longer!”

“I tried asking for help in a civil manner but was denied by everyone in Corona. So, unfortunately, this is my only remaining recourse.”

“I’ll make them hear me...”

I touched on this in my Confidence analysis, but Varian never loses his drive. And his want to be revered, consumes him. Even when he goes to prison, he joins Andrew and takes over Corona to be feared. But he soon realizes, it’s still not enough. His want for revenge doesn’t satisfy him or make him happy, it just makes him feel worse as the weight of what he’s done gradually crashes down on him.

By the time Rapunzel comes back, it’s all an act. He’s not craving adoration anymore. He just wants a way out of this cycle of disappointment that isn’t getting him anywhere. You can tell from the lines, too.

“Me? No, not really.”

“So that no one will forget they turned their back on my father!”

“I took their queen prisoner! I threatened their princess! I helped these guys take over their kingdom!”

Now the first one is small, but it actually shows a lot of development (even if he says it in a rather dorky way) because he’s not taking credit for something or taking the “fear” that he wanted so badly. The second one just sounds like a threat but it’s not “they turned their backs on me,” like it was in season 1. It’s back to his father, and it’s, in a way, humbling Varian by taking himself out of the picture. And of course the last one is the most evident: he’s listing his faults and realizing he doesn’t deserve the adoration he used to crave so much.

Making it Right

During Varian’s redemption...we see these thoughts really come to light.

“All I ever wanted was for my father to be proud. But if he were free from the amber now, and saw everything I’ve done, well he’d be ashamed.”

This is his turning point. This is where he owns up to how warped and twisted his mindset was and makes an effort to fix it with Rapunzel. Not for himself; not for the glory, but because it’s the right thing to do. He knows he messed up with the Quirineon, and he’s literally willing to die to make up for his mistakes. This is a direct contrast to his previous statement: “I will make you proud of me, dad. If it’s the last thing I ever do.”

Because if he dies fixing his mistakes, he doesn’t expect any kind of praise. He’d leave a legacy of horrible deeds that would never make his dad proud; but he’d be saving Corona and that’s all that matters. Of course he doesn’t actually die, thank goodness, and Rapunzel saves Corona instead, but he’s learned something from this whole experience. And one thing he especially didn’t expect was for Rapunzel to keep her promise after everything. And even when his dad finally says those words...they were supposed to mean everything, but they don’t. It still isn’t enough. Especially not after everything that’s happened. I touched on this in another analysis as well, but he feels like he doesn’t deserve those words.

From this point, Varian has a whole new outlook on life, not dependent on gaining recognition. He’s still the cocky, confident alchemist we know and love, but he shows off his inventions because he’s proud of them, and that’s enough. He saves Corona from the red rocks because he genuinely wants to help his kingdom, he doesn’t have any underlying motives whatsoever. He helps with the Demanitus Scroll because he wants to help Rapunzel figure everything out. And at the end he helps defeat Zhan Tiri because he knows he can help, and he genuinely wants to. (And here’s where I get emotional.)

Varian doesn’t once ask for compliments or a “thank you” throughout season 3, yet that’s exactly what he gets. After all of those years of seeking and yearning for adoration, he finally gets it when he doesn’t need it anymore.

In every selfless thing he does for Corona, he gets a reward in some way. When he rescues the kingdom from black rocks, he didn’t ask for anything in return, yet his reputation was restored. When he agreed to help with the scroll, he actually got to work in Demanitus’ Lab, someone he’s admired forever. And when he helps with the portal, he gets to go see Demanitus’ tomb and I mean...

that’s the happiest we’ve ever seen him. And it isn’t just the big things either, it’s the little ones. The way that Rapunzel calls him “a genius,” when he doesn’t ask for it or allude to it in any way. The “good job, buddy,” that Eugene tells him after he fixes up the balloon. And every time he’s complimented, he stays humble. He even responds one time with “just doing my part.”

And at the very end of his arc, after all of that selfless work he did for Corona out of the goodness of his own heart, he’s given his very own title of “Royal Engineer.” An official position in the kingdom that people truly look up to and respect.

Conclusion

This is honestly one the most well-done character arcs I’ve ever seen, because it’s absolute poetic justice. At the beginning, Varian is so focused on his own need of affirmation that he forgets everything else, and jeopardizes himself on multiple occasions. Especially when his motives become warped. But when he finally sets his pride and his own ambitions aside and realizes he’s already enough, that’s when he gets the respect and adoration that he had always wanted. And that my friends...is CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.

[shadowdianne]

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Kisses with their last dying breath

A/N So, apparently, my beloved anon, you are none other than @delirious-comfort. With that in mind I must remind you all that this time I wasn’t the one going for angst. The prompt specifically requests for it so, pointing fingers, please go and talk to AJ about this one

Having said that. Since you don’t do shipping, but merely prompts -your words, not mine xd- I had a little bit of a discussion with myself on what would be the best angle. Try at Cissamione even though we both know that’s kind of stagnant at this point? Try for bellamione even though we are painfully aware I don’t actively ship them minus some very few cases? Go for some of your most recent pairings you are currently reading about? I could but I lack some general background that while interesting would account for some hours of studying about the pairing in particular that would still make it sound fake-y. Should I go for SQ even if we both know how utterly burnt out I’m from the fandom in general? Should I go for some of my OCs? To be honest. I really would like to present them in society so to speak -lol- but I’m not entirely sure how to go about that or if anyone would be interested PLUS there would not be the emotional impact other pairings would have since you don’t know them.

At the end I went for SQ. I’ve killed them both enough times to be a familiar territory for the two of us lol. And let’s be honest; destroying Regina with feelings is something I’ll always enjoy if only for the multiple pathways that opens to her way of dealing with grief.

Anyway, I’ve rambled enough, on with this

PS: Quiet warning: There’s mention of hospitals on this one. I’m obviously not a doctor so I’ve decided to take some liberties here and there but considering the amount of bullshit we are all experiencing at the moment if you feel like passing on this one I’d understand. This goes both to AJ here or any other reader. AJ if you don’t like this version I have a much more magicky one drafted I can whip out.

The beeping of the machines is incessant and there is a stupid comfort in them Regina has grown to hate. Their sound is a painful reminder of those who get to keep on breathing, no matter how labored. She had learnt, years ago, how death can make everyone selfish, painfully selfish, but there’s still a freshness to it that makes her take breaths deeper than she would usually go for if only to remind herself that the machines don’t beep for her. Not yet, after all.

Her hands are still and clammy, cold having already crept out over her fingertips for the number of hours she has taken the position she is now in. She could move, she knows that, but the pain is also a bringer of comfort since they keep on holding, fastened around much more fragile fingers that keep their own curve against them: an instant magic traveling from hers to them in a never-ending circle. She has wondered, more times than she is able to count since days are a blur of repetition she wishes would be the byproduct of a curse, about that lifeforce, that link, she has wished for the ability of her fingers and her touch alone to heal and cure and bring back. She does it again now, out of the play for the mental exercise than anything else since morphine has been administrated steady enough now to come to the fact that there’s very little in regards of acting beyond the act of waiting itself.

She has come to despise how clocks are incessant and ever-present no matter where she is at. The continuous trickle of seconds, minutes, and hours another reminder, a threat, that she cannot really stop. No matter how long she may try to run away from time, it has the ability to come back to her, to the background of her mind, in where she is capable of listening to its faint ticking, always reminding her, always making her feel as if time is as still as water can be, as running as dry sand over her closed fists.

The smell of the hospital is another thing she is familiar with. Was familiar with. But there’s an acute lack of difference around it. Regina loathes this, she would love to be able to sense more, to see more, to see a distinct difference she could cling to. There’s none, not really. Magic is the only thing keeping her sane and she has come to resent it too, if only for the way its mingled, mixed, with that scent that she has come to link with Emma much more than cinnamon, than burning comfort, than clean blankets, than comfortable afternoons.

She should be the one going first. She had muttered it through gritted teeth as they had first heard the news: both Henry and her. Whale had been apologetic, soft, but the impact of his words had still dented them both. Snow and David had been much louder than they had been but, at the end, they had always been louder. Wasn’t anything else they could do?

Palliatives, the doctor had said, and his eyes had been clear, as if waiting but Regina had known that he felt reluctant about it. How much would be for their benefit, how much for Emma’s? The question had haunted her, no true answer behind the words. It was all about selfishness, about selflessness? Did it really darken her heart wishing for anything, anyone, that would be able to make time run slower and slower still? The quiet understanding of not having much more to do came with that precise ticking; pain still blazing through her every move.

“It will hurt less and less.” She had tried to tell herself, Henry, but while true in some aspect she still couldn’t quite place, it really didn’t matter. The bouts of pain were there, after all, and would continue to be.

Emma had been lucid sometimes after the news, her body seeming to give up on her a day, keep her standing the next. There were minute changes, of course: a glimpse of her eyes, a way of smiling, a way of holding her hands, always in the same angle product of the tubes, the hospital bed, the height of the mattress, the height of the chair. At first she had grabbed to them, hoping that they would signal something. At the end, truly, they hadn’t.

Was it selfish for her, then, to work with and against time at the same time? Was it selfish for her to bury herself in memories as they superimposed themselves with the image of Emma, consumed Emma, who kept on cracking jokes whenever she had enough presence of mind to do them? She hadn’t truly spoken about it, about not waking up at some point, of the way her body felt always cold now, of how magic felt weaker now, of how her scent was mixed with that awful awful odor of hospital and sickness.

It would be easier, Regina said despite knowing it wasn’t true, would never be, if there truly had been something that she could focus at: something to name and seek revenge against.

“Her entire body is failing her.” Whale had said and Regina had nodded, knowing I already, fearing for it already. Emma had been silent that day, lucid, capable of talking and remembering them all well enough to be able to sense what their contrite faces screamed rather than whisper.

Regina had learnt quite quickly that she wasn’t a whisper type of person. She understood why Henry did it, why David did, why Snow would only if doctors were present and explaining things to them, but she hated it. She would rather have Emma listen to her voice until there was nothing left to say. Silences were more difficult to bear.

Except now, of course, in where time is running thin enough to be translucent and the hours are minutes that pass through as the trickling of the morphine keeps its work. She is not able to see it, of course, the liquid, since it had already been administrated and the last dose had been given a few minutes ago, but her mind keeps conjuring the image up, as a way of understanding, maybe, of picturing what she is not able to.

She feels a tap of her hands, more of a shiver going up her cold fingers and she focuses back on what laid around her rather than solely on Emma’s face. Still had come with different descriptors the longer the time passed. Still did not mean completely, there always would be some tension around her eyes, around her mouth, the way her cheeks sat atop the bones. Completely relaxed muscles meant something else, something that she kept on searching for, dreading it. There were times in where the muscles changed positions, quick trembles that created a smile there, a wink here, words that would be understandable or not at all and Regina had lost count of the promises -empty, full of anger and ire and fire and heat and cold and tiredness- she had screamed to time.

They had taken away the nasogastric tubes, there would not be any food to be given, after all, and all medications were already via catheter, so she is able to see words forming around Emma’s lips, as if they are drawn around them rather than being pushed away from slowly falling lungs. It takes some time: throat is still sore, energies are running low, but Regina had grown accustomed to the language that came with it all. She moves closer, closer still, not quite registering the whimper that comes from Henry’s side of the room [He refused to touch Emma sometimes and the notion hurt Regina, but she knew she couldn’t quite make him do it if he himself wasn’t able to and the dichotomy of both statements tore her apart if she looked into them long enough] and pushes through tired eyes and sore muscles.

“Would you kiss me?”

A bubbling tear echoes through Regina’s own vocal cords, but she swallows it down knowing this would not be the time for them. She is strong, isn’t she? She is, she needs to be. And so, she glances back to Henry who is biting on his fist and staring at his mothers, at loss.

Time, damned time. Snow and David are asleep, having been reminded that they had a child to attend to, having asked, pleaded almost to be let known if anything changed. Regina has been reluctant on understanding what anything truly meant. She now eyes back to Emma, at the way her eyes were clouded, and she motions to Henry for the phone.

“Call them.” She asks and she knows with distinct clarity that there would be a much more time to talk and chat and listen later, but she feels like she isn’t able for any of it now. Henry flees for the call, his own lips quivering, and Regina eyes Emma once more, at the way lines of magic run through her skin, at the way her face tilts towards her, at the starched sheets and the white and paleness of it all. She drinks on it until she feels that there is nothing else to gorge with only to realize there is. There always will be more.

They had had their time, hadn’t they? But not enough, not close to it, and she rages once more as she keeps on eyeing Emma, at the question that still floats between them with Henry still muttering on the phone and Snow’s voice a high-pitched scream that speaks of quick movements and clothes thrown over bodies still tired and sluggish due to sleep.

Had she known it? She would then later be asked, and she would not be able to respond without giving away too much, far too much of a moment she felt unprepared to explain with words that would never reach between the gaps she would leave out of her answer.

She moves closer, her elbow protesting and snapping in place as she takes everything in, as she breaths, as she counts the beeps that come from some place at her back, echoing through corridors that she had always felt empty but now feel full.

Her lips taste different, the movement that come from them a reflex more than a reply, but she clings to them as she raises her free hand and caresses the other’s face, grateful for the clinking sound of her promise ring as hands are freed and the two rings touch. She wishes to be able to feel everything but there is only the sense of touch that is still on her as the kiss lengthens and so, as she moves, tears burning, she knows that she ought not to look because if so she will fall.

[Henry looked, Henry held her as she fell backwards, as quiet as possible, as burning as she felt. David and Snow arrived late, Emma’s magic gone, nothing lingering but the purple of Regina’s own color, now muted, darker, she cried while wishing for a razor blade to open her up, to reflect the pain in a way that felt proportional. But there was only vastness.

And a kiss. A promise.]

A goodbye

[mamoonde]

Prompt: Pirate AU, Hurt/Comfort

Wei Wuxian is too selfish.

If he weren’t, he would have stopped this, the moment Lan Wangji came knocking at his quarters. If he weren’t, he would have said no to Lan Wangji’s advances, to his aggressive, soul-consuming kisses, his searing touches. Would have stopped them before they took off their clothes and gave in to the fiery desire kindled between them since they were fifteen year old boys sitting by the dock, the ocean lapping at their feet.

If he had been a little less selfish, Wei Wuxian would’ve turned the ship around to take Lan Wangji back to the nearest civilian port, instead of allowing him to continue their voyage with him, right over the edge of the world and beyond.

If Wei Wuxian hadn’t been selfish, Lan Wangji wouldn’t be staring at him in horror, hand on his chest, feeling for a heartbeat that doesn’t exist. Hasn’t existed, for the last thirteen years now.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji whispers, and Wei Wuxian hates the way his voice comes out broken. Wishes, selfishly, that time rewound to a candle mark before, when Lan Wangji uttered Wei Wuxian’s long forgotten name like it was something sacred, a prayer of worship as they hurtled to pleasurable heaven not yet closed to Wei Wuxian.

“The price to pay for slaying the ocean’s demon is to become the demon.” Wei Wuxian closes his eyes, resigned. Perhaps the most selfish part is that he can’t bring himself to regret it, no matter how much it hurts Lan Wangji. “I cannot give you something I no longer have, Lan Zhan.”

“I would give you mine, still, even if you refused to give me yours.” Lan Wangji says. “It has always been Wei Ying’s.”

“No, Lan Zhan, you can’t--!” Wei Wuxian cries out, stricken. “You’re too good; you deserve someone who isn’t selfish, Lan Zhan-- You deserve better, deserve everything and more.”

“Then I want Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji cups his face and wipes a tear. “Is it not the ultimate act of selflessness to go beyond where other mortals do not, for the sake of others? Do I not deserve to have the only one my heart desires?”

“Your heart has terrible taste,” Wei Wuxian jokes through tears. “I told you, it’s all that bland Gusu Lan food.”

“Mn, terrible, indeed.” Lan Wangji kisses away his indignant squawk. “Regardless, it only wants Wei Ying, and no one else.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian sniffles. “Mine, too. Every part of me, my heart and soul, has always been yours, too.”

They fall back into each other, a sea of tear-streaked kisses and bittersweet touches, riding endless waves of pleasure, pulling each other over the next crest again and again, caught in the euphoric high of souls finally united. They remain entangled all the way until dawn, winded and basking in the afterglow.

Later that day, Lan Wangji carves out his heart to rest in the chest that keeps Wei Wuxian’s, beating in perfect harmony. Powered by two bonded hearts, the Yiling becomes a good omen; protector of the seven seas, and guardian of all lost souls that ferries them safely to the edge of the world and beyond.

author's note: this is crossposted on my twt lel