#we will never know if he would have gone with the change the system route if given the chance at being loved

[chaotic-gender-fluid]

in the books Luke and Percy's biggest difference was their mothers: Percy was Luke if he'd had a loving kind mother and vice versa

but in the SHOW: THE DIFFERENCE IS JUST AS MUCH THEIR FATHERS. posidon might not be there but he listens to Sally, he claims Percy really quick despite the consequences, he grabs him with water at the arch and sends a Nereid to talk to him and most of all SURRENDERS to Zeus for a WAR just for his son.

but Hermes? he says he cares but left May like that(as far as we know) didn't really acknowledge Luke after his quest(again we don't know) and never does anything to actively care for him.

#I could continue but I think that gets my point across #I will never stop arguing that they are the same other than the way they've been treated #LUKE HAD TO LIVE WITH MAY UNTIL HE WAS 14!!! and then had to be on the run at 14 #we will never know if he would have gone with the change the system route if given the chance at being loved #also I'm not a luke apologist im a luke understander #percy jackson #luke castellan #pjo #rick riordan #pjo tv show #chaotic ramblings in the ether

[dailycass-cain]

I really tried to like this run, I really did. The seeds were planted in the Failsafe arc, then there was a tiny bit with the next arc (Red Death), and the way this one began.

Yeah…

This is just my preference, but I enjoy a comic book story if the writer clearly has a passion for all the characters involved.

When it comes to Batman?

I just ask if you're gonna use Cass. Use her wisely.

Don't use her as a "prop".

It's why I left Tom King's Batman run after Batman #81 because that's what Cass was in that run.

I came back to Batman because I truly did enjoy James Tynion IV's style in his Tec run. Yes, he played it safe but it was a FUN kind of safe.

Even if they were cheesy, Tynion's Batman and later Joshua Williamson's runs were fun. So was Mariko Tamaki's Tec run. They treated the characters involved with respect and gave some standout Cass moments. They didn't seem like a "prop" and somehow always figured into the story.

Why I SOOOOO checked out hard when Future State: Gotham did this too (so much so I totally have forgotten who wrote the story). Cass wasn't a character in that (among others). She was just a prop to showcase how "far" Nightwing had gone.

Now, this current Batman run by Chip Zdarsky has done this too. I really did give this run a fair chance. For his "Failsafe" arc the ideas were there but---

There was never any follow-up. No payoff to the ideas introduced in the arc. Cass jobbed but it made sense. Because at the very least "Failsafe" was made to be counter to Bruce and the Family. But…

We got zero payoffs to Cass/Duke doing anything in the arc or anything out of Gotham being lorded over by a machine.

Compare this to what's going on in Detective Comics by Ram V.

Yes, Cass is a minor presence but the writer pays at least some payoff from plots that he introduces the character too. There's consistency.

I see 0 consistency from Zdarsky from point A to B. Take today's #137 issue for example. We spent a setup with Cass getting zero motives as to why she (and Duke) are siding with the rest.

They just are.

0 characterization and 0 payoff from point A to B. What do we get for Cass in the issue? She jobs hard to Bruce. I just don't see any reason why as a fan of Cass I should care about this run?

I mean yeah, Zdarsky dangles the "happy" family in front of us in #136, and also tells us that bad things are coming for Bruce and the Family.

Buuuuuut… where's the characterization? The panel that tells us what Cass sees?

You could've easily had Cass in #136 just a mere two panels glance at Bruce and him back at her. Him knowing she knows something is wrong.

Nope. We don't get that. Just cute fun (we get that via Dick instead).

It would bridge to her being against him in #137. If that was the case I probably wouldn't be angry over the issue. Cass doesn't feel like a character in the story, just a prop. And when a writer goes that route I CHECK OUT.

The other problem I've been having with this Zdarsky run is the "word play" as well. Dick, Tim, Jason, and Damian all get name-dropped as "sons" to Bruce. Note who isn't mentioned.

AND YET...

But that is me just being picky and fandomy. But the other stuff I can't overlook. I will miss this run. I really REALLY love Jorge Jiménez's Cass. Like he understands the assignment ANY time he's asked.

Just that, good art has to accompany a fun or thrilling story. We're getting none of that from my point of view. Maybe this changes in a few issues. Maybe it'll be longer.

I just can't read this comic any longer. It's not a read I enjoy. So until then bye Batman. It was fun.

Anyway. I said my peace. I just want to vent this out of my system. 🙏

#cassandra cain #dc comics

[winniethewife]

It's undeniably real (Layla El-Faouly x The Moonknight system x Reader)

Chapter 10: Sometimes I'm in a room where I don't belong

Last Chapter ~ Next Chapter

Words:992

I never knew how it would affect me. It seemed simple, or maybe just necessary. I loved them, I should be able to do what they do. I just had no idea how good I was going to be, or how that would change my life. Sometimes I swear that in the silence I can hear everything come crashing down. I can see them, their loving deep brown eyes looking at me, they know I didn’t mean to, I can’t control this. Our life hangs in the balance, I just have to tip the scales… I wasn’t the same after that day, I wasn’t meant to be the same after…But will they ever look at me the same after this? Will they still love me the same? Knowing who I really am. Knowing the monster I could become? I feel like there’s a bomb in my chest, any minute I will explode and hurt everyone I care about. Their bodies, against mine, the warmth of their love. It’s like a Band-Aid on my bleeding heart. I can’t keep up, I can’t keep doing this. It’s eating at the corners of my mind. Sounds are so much louder, the lights so much brighter, everything is intense. Constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for something that will never come.

I need to tell them. I have to tell them. Now, not later. It can’t wait any longer

I look out the window as I stand with my back to the room, my heart is racing. I have to tell them. I know they’re starting to get more worried, I’ve lost count how many times I’ve told them that everything is fine with a fake smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. I don’t think I can avoid their questions any more. I take a deep breath and close my eyes in an attempt to bring my anxiety down, I feel a familiar arm wrap around me, and I turn to see Marc, his eyebrows furrowed.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks softly, worried. His dark eyes looking into mine. I leans into his embrace, he puts another arm around me.

“I need to talk to you, and Layla. There’s…there’s something we need to talk about.” I say softly into his chest. I feel his body stiffen and his breath hitch in his chest.

“Did we do something?” he asks with obvious pain in his voice, already blaming himself for my odd behavior.

“No, Marc, This…It’s me, all me okay?” I reassure him, my hand over his beating heart.

~

I sit across from them as they both look at me with astonishment on their face. After telling them that I had started to remember what had happened, and that I had been training to be a part of an underground syndicate of extremely deadly fighters hired out to do the dirty work of the villainous people and organizations of the world. When I told them the fact that the academy’s solution to the system being dismantled was to brainwash the students into forgetting it happened, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Marc so angry, the way his dark eyes are filled with fire, his expression stone cold. Layla on the other hand the moment I stop speaking rushes to my side and held me close.

“If I had any idea…We’re going to figure this out, and they will pay for this.” She says softly to me.

“I don’t know if there’s anyone to make pay at this point. If the system, whatever it was, is now dismantled and gone, is there any justice to be found at this point?” I sigh and I feel Layla’s arms tighten around me.

“We have some contacts who might know something. Jake has been working in the underground world for so long, someone has to know something.” Marc says darkly his face still as cold as ice with passion burning in his eyes. Its obvious they want to do something. I just don’t know what to do. Do I even want to look into this dark part of my past?  Layla and Marc start talking about possible routes as I feel the numbness creeping over my senses again, I can barely feel Layla’s touch anymore.

~

“So you’ve been dissociating then?” Steven asked softly as I sat halfway in his lap on the couch. His arms around me as he looks at me with a caring nature.

“I guess that would be the term yes. I don’t know, I’ll just be doing something and everything will go numb, like I’m not really here? I don’t know. It started when Jake took me to the shooting range and we started to realise…what happened.” I answered, my voice is wavering more than I expected. Steven Hummed softly in understanding. He seemed to be thinking about everything we had been talking about. The dissociation, the nightmares, and the distance I put between myself and them. It was hard. Steven seemed to be deep in thought as I rested my head on his chest, listening to his breathing, his heartbeat, it was calming, helping me stay in the present.

“Well, Jake’s contact in New York checks out. And they found someone who might be able to help us make sense of all this.” Layla said as she walks into the living room, pocketing her phone. “It also seems that some of the Leadership of The cult of the Jackal has been seen in Manhattan, they’re trying to drum up some support, maybe get some new members.” Layla says as she sits down on the couch next to me putting her hand on my hip as she smiles at me. “We’re going to figure it out okay?”

“Alright. So New York it is.” I smile at her. Steven chuckles.

“Always wanted to see the big apple. Why is it we never go anywhere nice when the world isn’t in great peril?” We all laugh.

~

Masterlist

Taglist: @redeyerhaenyra @summonthesoups

#moon knight #marc spector #x reader #jake lockley #layla el faouly x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #moonknight x reader #steven grant x reader #polyamory #poly representation #moon knight system #moon boys #layla el faouly #Spotify #steven grant #angst #hurt comfort

[iturbide]

Oh I don't doubt edelgard believes her cause is just. The thing with her is it doesnt stop with her reforms and her toppling of the church. Thats how we know her goal is conquest.

In 3 hopes she had her reforms made WHILE rhea was in power. And Even with Rhea dead and the central church dissolved she doesnt stop her war. At this point it is no longer about removing the church to make way for reforms. Because she accomplished both of those things and she's still not done.

Why isn't she done? Because thats not her ultimate goal. She wants all of fodlan under her control. Funnily enough, Claude says it too. His reason for killing rhea was because he foolishly believed that would remove edelgards reason for war. ( it doesn't).

He also said that if she doesn't stop her war, then that means her war is just blatant aggression. In their supports he calls it Conquest and edelgard doesn't deny it, she knows what this is ( shes much more honest about it in 3 hopes) and she actually tells him she wants the kingdom gone, not just the church.

villains don't need to be like "tee hee mass murder , war , conquest! Yay!" realistic villains are those who truly believe in their cause and theyll say this is for the good of all. what makes them a villain is how they will do absolutely anything to achieve their aims no matter how much blood is spilled and how much suffering it causes. No "sacrifice" is too great for Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg.

this is how they justify conquest irl no? Western imperalism 101. We say It's for a just cause. We say Its for their own good. We say our way is the superior way and they will see that (or die) . Truth is we can make up any reason for it , the end is the same and they still hate us for it. And i can't say I blame them for feeling that way lol

I was never trying to refute that Edelgard is an imperialist. She's absolutely an imperialist. There's really no getting around that. But I'm pretty alarmed by this take, because it discounts a lot of things about her and her character in favor of a read that her goals are motivated solely by selfishness.

And this is coming from someone who has an entire tag devoted to Edelgard criticism.

It bears repeating out the gate: I haven't played Three Hopes yet. I don't imagine I will for a while yet, and news on Edelgard's route has been sparse coming to my inbox, so I'm not able to speak on Scarlet Blaze in any real capacity (not that I take it as any sort of canon, myself, though that's neither here nor there). But I can speak on Three Houses, since I have played through three of the four routes in their entirety, including Edelgard's -- Verdant Wind, Silver Snow, and Crimson Flower are complete; I've stalled halfway through Azure Moon. And in the case of Three Houses, while Edelgard is definitely chasing an image of the past now lost in the form of a Fodlan united under the Imperial banner, I don't think it's fair to say that she's only after that.

The fact is, she's not wrong that the Crest System is bad and needs to be reformed. She lays the blame on the wrong target, through a combination of misinformation and only partial understanding of the larger situation (likely for a number of reasons, including the unavoidable evolution of House Hresvelg's "true" history of Fodlan passed to its heirs, potentially influence from the Agarthans in manipulating information for their own purposes), but she's not wrong about the fact that the system is toxic and something needs to be done. And that system doesn't exist only in the Empire: its influence extends throughout all of Fodlan. So she sets her sights on tearing it out wherever it's taken root.

From a character and narrative standpoint, it does actually make sense that she'd target the Church of Seiros: the faith of the land gave rise to the System, even if Seiros herself had no hand in it, and so the only way to change the system is to raze the faith of the land and bring about something new. And because the Church has footholds in the Kingdom and Leicester -- both of which also suffer from a system that overvalues Crests -- she takes her campaign across those borders. Yes, she also believes that the Church was responsible for breaking up the Empire into the Kingdom and later the Alliance, thinking that it was a means of creating artificial divisions between people to keep them in conflict and unable to turn on the Church and its inhuman arbiters -- but ultimately her goal was to free all of Fodlan from the Crest System, rather than only Adrestia.

I don't say any of this to discount that she does horrible things. Because she does. There's a reason I will never play Crimson Flower again. But to flatly vilify her rather than acknowledging her as a complex character with justifiable goals is something I can't accept. Making the situation out to be a black-and-white, good-and-evil dichotomy flattens what makes Edelgard interesting and compelling as a character in favor of presenting her as Lady Walhart but with enough sense to not broadcast her intentions. And that's not fair to her, because there's a lot more to her, her situation, and her character overall than what your message implies.

#answered #anonymous #fire emblem: three houses #edelcourse #one of my best friends is an edelgard fan #and talking with them since three houses came out #has really helped me get a better handle on her as a character #and find so many interesting and compelling aspects of her #that i otherwise feel i would have missed #she's still not my favorite #but i do respect her #and frankly this take on her feels very disrespectful #so for once i'm actually not being as edelgard critical #norbah i hope you're proud

[lorekeeper-backset]

I'm bored, here have these Fire Emblem: Three Houses What Ifs that accompanied the Author's Note of a chapter of my currently on-hiatus because I'm too lazy to work on it fanfic. They're free to use as story ideas but if you do use any them I'd appreciate you sending it my way.

What If… Edelgard Won? I know what you’re thinking: Isn’t this just the Crimson Flower route? But it’s not. When I say “Edelgard Won” I mean that straight up villain Edelgard (no, we’re not arguing this right now) from the other three routes wins. She trumps the Kingdom, Alliance, and Church and takes over Fodlan.

What If… Claude Became the Hegemon? In other words, what if Claude took Edelgard’s place as the main antagonist. Basically, somewhere along the line Claude decides that the best way to End Racism is if he takes control of everything. So we get to see how scarily competent Claude would be as a bad guy. Obviously, he’d have great strategy because, you know, Master Schemer, but also he’d weaken the other sides by outright stealing troops from them. Because evil or not he’s still Claude. He isn’t fighting to defeat one specific group or blaming one specific group for all the oppression. He just thinks that taking over everything is a faster way to change things than working with the system (which is basically Edelgard’s doctrine but she purely blames the Church for all this bull). And a lot of people will think that he makes good points and decide that, yeah, they’ll join this guy. In fact, the points he makes will be so good that they might even make the audience question who the bad guy is (it’s still him) which I think is something they tried to do with Edelgard (she is right, Crests are an issue) but she also caused way more bloodshed and joined up with Those Who Slither so it’s kind of moot. Claude, obviously, won’t use Demonic Beasts because he’s just as against Those Who Slither as he is as a good guy but he might use Golems he reverse engineered from the Church. Because of how scarily competent he is this will actually force the other three sides to team up for realsies to fight him and Those Who Slither might join in too as a third party (though nobody will actively help them because, you know, they’re Those Who Slither, and in gameplay terms it would function like the battle of grondor field) because Claude is a way bigger threat to them since he’s not only actively hunting them along with everyone else but their main base is in Alliance territory. Man, I really put a lot of thought into this one. Also, Hegemon doesn’t mean he’ll be turning into Fallen Claude or some such thing, just that he’s the bad guy in this scenario.

What If… Byleth Never Came to Garreg Mach Monastery? This one’s simple. Something happened that caused Byleth to simply… not come to the Monastery. Or maybe they did and they just kind of left.

What If… Byleth Woke Up Too Late? Basically, Byleth falls off a cliff as usual but by the time they wake up the war’s over. However, it didn't end in anyone’s favor, possibly due to Those Who Slither or just because Byleth was kind of a lynch pin, so Fodlan is s lawless post-apocalyptic waste land. We could have all sorts of cool post-apocalypse versions of the characters. Like a version of Lorenz who has decided that even though his noble house has fallen, that's no reason not to act like a noble and do heroic things and try to make the future a little brighter (sorry, but Ferdie’s dead in this universe so he can’t take that role). Or a version of Ashe who’s gone dark after one dead friend too many.

What If… Sitri Survived? This one’s also simple. The method by which Sitri survives could be any number of things. Maybe Baby Byleth dies before they can perform the operation or maybe the birth just goes smoothly. Who knows.

What If… Sothis Bonded to Edelgard? This one’s an interesting one. Maybe even more interesting than Hegemon Claude. So, somehow Sothis bonds to Edelgard instead of Byleth. Maybe instead of doing blood experiments Those Who Slither just straight up stole Sothis’ crest stone somehow (which unfortunately means neither Byleth nor Sitri can show up in this story) and for reasons that are probably similar to why their main timeline (for a certain sense of the word) experiment worked on her the Crest Stone takes and now she has Sothis in her head. Sothis probably first emerges sometime around when she first emerged for Byleth, maybe during the same confrontation with Kostis. This allows Edelgard time to develop her anti-Church and anti-Crest views. So now she has this being who may or may not be the Goddess in her head (since she’s not ignorant of Fodlan’s religion and politics like Byleth she immediately recognizes the significance of Sothis’ name) who’s also really abrasive towards her and that would obviously affect her character arc in a significant way as at first she probably searches for a way to get rid of Sothis and Sothis isn't all that fond of Edelgard either for obvious reasons but the two slowly warm up to each other and who knows what happens then. Also, since we need a third teacher and Byleth isn't available, I say we use a retired Jeralt who would also have changed quite a bit due to a lack of Sitri (or possibly, even more heartbreaking, Those Who Slither straight up ripping Sitri or Byleth’s hearts from their chests).

#fire emblem three houses #fe3h #fire emblem #au #what if

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

DV victims end up with a lot of trauma, and that can greatly caused deep routed self-esteem issues and lead to mental illnesses such as anxiety, depression and PTSD. most victims don’t even remember when the incident happened and the details that occured because of trauma, which drastically changes the way the brain functions and the nervous system in much the same way substance does, and there is no reason why personalities would be exempt from the brain altering effects of trauma, leading to long term changes in personality that continue once the distress is gone, over time the area that controls their memory becomes smaller and their emotions slower.

trauma really messes with your day to day thoughts so hard you’ll be completely fine one day and a complete mess the next day, it’s a struggle and at times, overwhelming, it’s an everyday battle to figure out if you’re going to say fuck the world today or put your best foot forward. often, the same trauma that caused PTSD can also trigger a substance abuse disorder (we know that evan was in rehab a couple of times).

i think it’s important that we stop telling DV survivors what we would’ve done differently if we were in their position, and judging the way they act, react, respond and heal, or even questioning their decisions or choices in general. i’ve known some DV victims in my life and it’s hard to break free from the cycle of abuse. i was a victim of SA and i think it’s quite heartless and ignorant of how trauma produces different responses in different people.

i just needed to share this.

thank you so much for sharing. i am grateful for your perspective, helping to remind us that DV isn't something that happens and is then forgotten without any lasting consequences. evan being a victim in the way he was almost certainly still has an impact on him today.

this is a major reason why it sickens me so much to see people mocking and disbelieving what we factually know evan endured. it's cruel and it's intentional that they do this. emma roberts will never see you doing this in her name to ''defend'' her on twitter, but people in your circle who have been victims could and it's incredibly harmful.

i wish you continued healing and i genuinely appreciate you taking the time to share your experience.

[dmclemblems]

I agree with the other anon tbh. And I don’t want to spend 60 dollars on a game that’s basically licking Edelgard’s boots for the sake of one excellent route, but at the same time I can never look at AM the same way again and it makes me feel unhappy about Fódlan in general, so I don’t know what to do now because I don’t really read fic, but I hate Edelgard, I don’t really care for Shez or Arval, and the church is an even bigger afterthought in Hopes

When the game was first coming out I wasn’t sure if I wanted to spend that kind of money on it either. I wound up getting it as a gift because the game came out less than a month after my birthday, so my family pre-ordered it for me.

Imo the best thing to do is just remember this is an AU and that no matter what happened in it, AM is still the real version of events (likewise with the other two routes). When it comes to how I see AG fitting in with AM, I see it as parts of the characters that could exist in AM. Even though the circumstances don’t give us the same things, for example, Sylvain has it in him to be the person he is in AG post game in AM. I like to think that’s the person he would grow into. With relationships, we’re just seeing more possibilities and can just shrug and pretend they happened anyway (like Ingrid talking with Rodrigue about tactics. We can just figure that kind of conversation happened at some point after they met up with him).

AG is more of a version of AM that looks at the story as “what if everything was almost perfect”. I imagine things could’ve gone similarly in the timeskip if Byleth hadn’t been hit by Thales in that cutscene, because Byleth’s presence probably would’ve played the same general role as Shez’s. I think Dimitri would still be in need of immediate help with his mentality, but if Byleth, with Sothis’ power, was still present in those five years, there’s probably something or various things that would’ve changed along the way.

Also, with the way Duscur was integrated into Faerghus’ army, it really is just a “what if everything was working out and sooner” scenario. It’s a combination of all the best/better possibilities that didn’t have a chance to happen in AM. It’s a bunch of things we wanted, so it’s easy to look at AM and miss those things. They basically gave us everything we could’ve possibly really wanted in AG, especially Dimitri being able to have a big support system and have his friends take care of him and his duties when he’s unable to (such as the times he literally passes out from pushing himself too much).

I think the best way to think of it is just that AM is the real deal and AG is more of just, what if we got what we wanted. I had so many headcanons for a good few characters that actually got confirmed as backstory or did happen during AG, so it was fun to have that while considering how much of the backstory must have happened pre-Houses timeline (for example, Dimitri’s backstory with Rufus. Houses gives us far fewer details and just kind of leaves it at them not getting along, so you could choose to ignore AG’s explanation or consider it backstory canon since it’s prior to the Houses timeline).

At the very least I’m glad we got some extra details about Duscur because I think it will be nice to replay AM and have all those answers in mind while going back through all the in-game discussions of it. With AG’s events in mind, I think it holds a whole lot more weight how much Rodrigue actually managed to find out about the incident. He does say, quoted, “I exhausted every last resource I had to investigate what took place there”. What he talks to Gilbert about in that conversation actually shows now that he really did delve deeply into this, because all his worries were correct and between AM and AG, we find out the details but also that all his fears were well founded.

Rodrigue probably has a very good network considering his position and standing in Faerghus, and like he said, he lost a son (and his best friend) during that incident, so it makes sense that he did whatever he could to investigate what happened. We get a general idea that he’s right in AM and that Patricia wasn’t targeted, and then in AG it tells us exactly what that was all about. It takes what we know and expands on it when AM didn’t have room to do so (presumably because the writers didn’t have the time or space within Houses to go over it more). Basically I think it’s just something we can keep in mind during replays and have the full story this time.

Obviously that’s not true of everything, but I think for backstory related topics it’s really helpful to have for hindsight. To learn about what happened in Duscur was probably difficult even for Rodrigue considering it involved TWS. I’m sure they did what they could to cover their tracks. Anything Rodrigue found out wouldn’t be easy to get knowledge of. We also have Rufus’ side of the story and learn that he did have involvement, while in AM we just hear from Cornelia that it was a rumor that she was using to execute Dimitri over. Now we know that actually did happen, and even though Dimitri didn’t kill Rufus like she claimed, we do know the writers didn’t just leave her claim about Rufus as a throwaway line from AM.

Maybe if you replay AM you’ll feel differently and feel better about it too. Sometimes it just takes replaying something to remember how much you enjoyed it before. For me AG is more of an extension of AM with things added to make the story work. I also wound up loving some characters even more than I already did (like, you know, how I talk about Rodrigue 400 times a week now instead of 250 😛).

Also, as far as Claude goes, I’m always going to relieved to see him in AM again and not have to go through almost every single character besides Dimitri not trusting him). I’m pretty sure if Claude had a choice, he’d go chill in AM (no cold Faerghus chill pun intended) and not AG.

AG is just an extension of what we already have, but it couldn’t exist without Houses/AM. AM can exist without AG.

I’m not sure if it’ll make you feel better about AM, but I hope you’ll be able to play it again and enjoy it like before!

#DCE Ask

[gallifreyriver]

[I found this in my drafts and I'm deciding to post this now, but full disclaimer: I still have not seen GOTG 3 yet, so there's a good chance that my questions/theory might actually be answered in that movie lol. Feel free to discuss in the notes if that's the case, I doubt anything majorly spoilery will happen lol] I had another random theory about a possible backstory to why Rocket hates being called a raccoon so intensely, but it might be completely wrong idk

Before I start, I've never gotten to read the GOTG comics, so I'm not sure what the backstory behind Rocket hating being called a raccoon in the comics is (but if anyone knows and wants to share I'd love to hear it) But I do know that in the comics he's actually not a raccoon, he was made from an alien animal that just looked like a raccoon but wasn't. I also know in the MCU it is said "he's actually not a raccoon" too, but they haven't gone in much more detail than that yet. We know the MCU has its own canon that doesn't always follow the comics, so they might be keeping it the same backstory, or they might be going the route of "he was a raccoon, but the scientists changed him so he's either technically not anymore, or he believes he's not anymore" In GOTG 3 it looks like they're going to show us his backstory, and maybe that will include why Rocket doesn't like to be called a raccoon.

Anyway, on to theory.

So like, because we all know him as "Rocket Raccoon," I had thought maybe "Raccoon" was part of his name in the MCU and comics. So naturally, I had started wondering why he hated to be called a raccoon if that was part of his name, but then I noticed that on the MCU movie posters he's only listed as "Rocket" and when he's arrested in GOTG 1 and they're in holding and the cops are reading off their rap sheets, Rocket is only in the system as "Subject: 89P13" with an alias of just "Rocket," not "Rocket Raccoon"

So that tells me (at least in MCU) that "Raccoon" is not part of the name he gave himself. Which makes sense given that he hates any mention of raccoon being referred to himself. (Also, it was the teaser clip where it shows him with his friends and how they named themselves that got me wondering this.)

Anyway I wonder if the reason he has such an intense hatred for being called a raccoon is because the scientist who made him the way he is would refer to him as a raccoon, and that maybe he hates that scientist so much for what he did to him and his friends that he can't tolerate being called a raccoon, especially since that scientist made him into something that isn't really a raccoon anymore in his eyes. Maybe being called a raccoon also only reminds him of what he feels was taken from him- that being a normal life with his family as just a regular raccoon.

Or maybe I'll see the movie and discover I'm completely wrong lol

#gotg #rocket raccoon #gotg 2 #fan theory #theories #gotg 3

[canceltheact]

DAMIEN and DA ISWM Parallels

@fgfluidity @miacheezytoon

Reblogs help more than likes!

Life is ours to choose.

A common statement of our friend Damien, the mayor, part of Darkiplier, and one that's been littered all across ISWM. Mark is hammering it home to us now that of all the sayings in WKM, this is the one to pay attention to.

This is definitely a sign that Damien is returning, yes, we've seen that in Mrs. Whitacre (who says the line in "ERROR").

But it also alludes to a much greater pattern in our character - Y/N, the DA, ourselves, and the path we go on.

In fact, our path within ISWM narratively mirrors (pun intended) the steps of DAMIEN.

First off - the loop itself.

The idea of a time loop has been tossed around, suggested in other of Mark's lore works (or "Adventures" as the Youtube playlist is calling them now), but only within DAMIEN and ISWM is the idea of a loop directly addressed.

And why is that?

It's because Damien himself is realizing the sudden shift in similarity.

As we've heard in the explanation stream, he said that every one of the trees Damien chopped down is another loop, and only now is he noticing that things are looping over. Only when cracks from other realities start to seep in (the main story dimension where Warf and Abe are) can the "rules [begin to] change".

In ISWM, the idea of a time loop is directly addressed, as well as noticing that each of the loops are different and glitchier. It's because our character, the DA, isn't wanting to do this anymore. They've gone throughout Heist and Date having fun, choosing different routes, but with these types of stakes, and this type of story just looping over without any satisfying ending...this isn't fun anymore to them.

Additionally, DAMIEN is also about the recognition of the true form he's in, breaking into the harsh reality of the situation. Through the mirror that appears, he's finally able to see his current state of being.

And in ISWM, we are constantly being put into question who we are. The cryo pod that glitches with blue eyes, the fact that Mrs. Whitacre asks us about if we know who we are - we are only now coming into this idea that we may have been changed by this story dimension as well...that we are something else. We believe while the cryo pod could be Damien, because of the way Darkiplier is constructed, the cryo pod must be US, the Captain, who we truly are and a possible alternate reality of something grave happening.

Due to the greenish hues, we are coming through into another time and space and seeing ourselves from the outside, confronting our strangeness and beginning to question what is even real. Our eyes glow the same blue as Damien's when he begins to panic in front of Actor, realizing that "there's no ending for the likes of us."

Then of course, there is the constant assertion of "waking up" and "going back to sleep" - Cryogenics go hand in hand with this, as every time something uncanny or weird is going on, we are encouraged to think back to sleep.

"Good morning, captain! Sleep well?" Tyler says twice and NPC-like as we get to a timeline that's eerily in stasis.

The ADS system encourages us to take a nap. The cryo system is us going to sleep again, and again, and again. Each loop starting us waking up.

And...well, we're only told to "wake up" once. A mysterious voice that glitches us through the timeline.

Now, what sounds familiar about this?

When Celine tells Damien to go to sleep, she is doing it to ensure that the loop stays intact, so that they can survive, so that the world...ultimately doesn't break, except that it does.

Actor tells Damien to wake up to break out of said loop so he can play his villain, so he can be in HIS story.

And we're seeing a similar thing here, with the roles FLIPPED.

If you'll remember in Ch. 3 of WKM, Celine's body was basically possessed by the entity and never seen again - until possibly NOW. If this is the entity managing Cryo, then this would be part of a twisted take on the concept - Actor, along with the entity, encourages the DA to go to sleep, and has them ignore the cracks in the dimension caused by Actor going too far with how much the story dimension can take.

The thing is, DARK is the one that is telling us to wake up - to break out of these games, to try and truly fix things before more goes wrong. And he seems to have quite a bit more control now, taking advantage of the cracking world.

Okay, so we've realized we're in a time loop, that we're in weird Limbo Town, pressed the snooze alarm....what else? OH YEAH.

It's time for the Blame Train, baby! ALL ABOARD, cause it's time to go off the rails and get stuck in the snow!

As we are put into the True Ending, Mark says that we wanted to destroy the universe and that we were the villain all along, just like he did to Damien. This whole campaign he's done since Space Part 1 has cemented that. The videos he's put out say that the trust of the colonists had been misplaced, that we should BACKPEDL AWAY, and the most infamous quote of all....

THE MULTIVERSE IS LITTERED WITH THE (LITTER-AL) CORPSES OF YOUR FAILURES.

But something's not adding up here. Despite Lady saying this to us, she later finds out that Mark was the one behind it and yells at him in the ending.

In addition, on the USA website, the listing for the Captain says that "we make good decisions". Not a really good thing to say if you caused MASS GENOCIDE, right?

And then the new short comes out saying that "You do not recognize the bodies in the wormhole", Mark's body flashing red. And that gives us an interesting clue.

This is a reference to You do not recognize the bodies in the water, an SCP (Mark's favorite) that give the appearance of bodies a person recognizes in danger or in peril - the same way Damien was lured into the ice towards the Actor, through the illusion of Celine's voice.

I'm not saying that this is an illusion. After all, the bodies are representative of all the bodies of those from all the adventures we've been on, showing the consequences of the universes we've gone through.

But the Actor is using this to frame this as all our fault. That we are one of the villains in his rogue's gallery, and there is nothing we can do.

And yet...

and yet, we have part two. Part two, "where the real business can begin". Where we can break the ice, like Damien, and do something about it.

Part two, where we can even try to break out of this crumbling reality ourselves. And maybe...life just will be ours to choose.

#markiplier #canceltheact #in space with markiplier #darkiplier #actor mark #iswm spoilers

[kanawrites]

RESET Theory

ISWM! Mark x GN! Reader

If he truly meant that he loves you so much that he’d risk himself over and over again so you’d get your「Happy End」would you even believe it?

Word Count: 3222

I don’t know how many times we’ve gone through this. Loop after loop. Over and over again in this never ending circle. Vying for your attention, your praises, your touch… Each moment spent so close to you, I feel like I could go for another round. You’re my lifeline in this wormhole we’re stuck in. On the off-chance that we are to part and never meet again... Understand that it’s your fault I’ve gone mad.

Life on the Invincible II was relatively easy, apart from a few scuffles between the crew, they all worked together in harmony while traversing through the universe to find a new planet to inhabit. Their steady system all came crashing down when a new member arrived.

The Captain, that was most of the colonists called them. A quiet fella that tried their hardest to prove their worth even when they’ve done more than enough. Somehow their presence made the place a lot more livelier than the ship used to be, and they were a rambunctious bunch already. The one with the greatest character change though, was the former ship Captain, current head engineer, Markiplier.

He was a semi-reliable engineer, one that had a knack for explosions and flair. Celcionna described him as “a man who only cares for aesthetics but he does a good job at fixing problems”. She might’ve mumbled the last part out in her testimony. He’s serious as he is goofy. He’d usually be akin to a bull but around the Captain he’s nothing more than a lovesick puppy.

It doesn’t matter what he’s doing at the moment. Mark would drop it immediately and rush over to their side, sometimes running around in circles. A huge smile would appear as he talked to them. To outsiders it looked like he would even worship the ground they walk on which weirded out some onlookers (namely CC). None of the crew understood how deep their relations went outside the fact that they “used to be together” as vague and interpretative the wording may be. But seeing Mark’s change in attitude and the Captain seemingly more relaxed figure around him, they didn’t want to bother. If they’re happy then that means the colony would thrive better, right?

“Captain, I vow to never leave you even if an alien colony attacked us right now!”

Mark blurted out the words without thinking. The Captain covered their mouth, trying not to laugh at the sudden confession. The two were sitting on the floor of the Bridge, backs resting on the control panel while eating some instant noodles. Even if I were to give context to the situation, it was still a random outburst. Mark didn’t blush but awkwardly laughed and downed the rest of his noodles. The Captain was eating their own cup at a leisurely pace while watching him.

As often as the others see Mark talking until his throat gets dry, the duo would often have quiet moments like this where they enjoyed each other’s company. Usually after Mark said something embarrassing. When Mark set down his cup and utensils, the Captain turned their body towards him and held out their hand. ‘Pinky promise?’ Mark stuck out his pinky and locked it with theirs. Cross my heart and hope to die.

Mark’s face had a satisfied look and let out a dreamy sigh. The Captain then showed the hand they hid. Their fingers were crossed. Mark let out an annoyed “HEY!” and the Captain stuck out their tongue playfully. They simultaneously laughed at their antics. Really, those two are childish.

Good Morning, Head Engineer! We Are Currently ERROR Years Into Our Journey. Coffee is en route. Current Ship Status Is ABSOLUTELY CATASTROPHIC

Mark woke up in a panic and was ejected abruptly from his cryopod. He only looked around for a few seconds before being shot out into space and knocked unconscious.

Gasping for breath, he rested his hands on the door of the cryopod. Sweat running down his face and once again, he’s shot out of his pod. His mind is still trying to keep up with what’s happening but he instinctively held on to the control panel for dear life. The glass breaks and he could feel the air pressure trying to suck him. As his fingers started to slip, the bulkhead was sealed. His body gives out and he leans on the control panel. With a bit more time to relax, he focused on trying to keep his breathing controlled. Not long after, he stands up on alert and his eyes fall on Cryopod 2703.

The Captain…

With a horrified look, he rushes to open it. A body falls forward and he grunts as he catches it. “Captain?” he doesn’t hear their breathing nor their heartbeat. Lying them down on the floor, he checks for any other sign that they were alive. They couldn’t be dead, they’re just unconscious, right?

His vision was fading in and out, he’s still dizzy from the events earlier. He rests his head on their chest, they would allow him a moment of indulgence after that near death scenario… They’d forgive him for falling asleep…

He woke up hyperventilating. Mark couldn’t hear the loud announcement of the computer over his own heart beat. What the hell is happening? Why is he here again? He must be dreaming, no, this must be a nightmare. Maybe he drank a bit too much before going to sleep but dreams can’t be this vivid… He gets shot out for the third time. There isn’t enough time to think. He was about to hold on the control panel again but this time, a hand reached out. Mark doesn’t question it and the windows promptly break again.

The emergency measures activated again and he looked up to see the Captain panicking. They shove him out of the way and the control panel gets caught on fire. Mark checked on them again and they had a fire extinguisher on hand, eyes looking towards the door as another announcement came up. He rushes towards Life Support and turned the cranks. When he came out of the room, the Captain greeted him with a hug and he happily returned it. “I have no clue what’s happening but I’m glad you’re okay” he relished their touch and sank himself further into the hug.

They continued fixing issues that came up, no time to wonder about the status of the other crew members, it’s a race against time and they could only rely on each other. As they approach the warp core another person shows up, threatening them at gunpoint. The Captain grabs Mark’s hand and pulls him along as they jump towards the wormhole. His eyes light up as he sees the door to the reactor core and swims towards it. Opening it up, he looks back and shouts “Captain! I found-”. “It?” Mark stands in the middle of a burning planet and he feels his body heat up hotter and hotter and ho-

Mark began to repeat this loop over and over. Each and every time he wakes up in that cryopod, the less he questions his reality and he slowly loses his sanity. More and more he feels his body aching, tired and wanting rest. In some realities he wakes up crying, in severe circumstances, puking. In others he just feels numb inside.

The only times he feels alive and grounded are the ones where the Captain is by his side. Seeing them smile after a job well done, sharing hugs and hi fives, maybe a pat on the head or back. All of these moments make him realize he’s not the only one suffering through this. Their eyes show how tired they are of having to repeat this disaster again and they aren’t giving up. If they aren’t then how could he give up and leave them to suffer all of this alone. They’ll get through this somehow.

These past few timelines the Captain seems more frustrated. They talked a lot more and barked orders left and right. Sometimes they would get aggressive and push Mark in or out of the way but he didn’t mind it at all. If it lessens the burden a bit, he’d gladly take the hit for them. If it means he’d get a medal and their praise then so be it. So long as they’re not hurt, he can give out a piece of his heart until there’s no more.

Mark has seen them break down a few times. Insane mutterings of the insanity of it all. Sobs that echoed the empty halls wondering what they did to deserve this torture. They’d curl up into a corner repeating that it wasn’t their fault until their throat got dry. In those moments, he’d sit next to them, a hand soothing theirs as he repeats “It’s going to be alright”. Empty words, they both know. Yet it helps the cries die down, and when they feel better, Mark would pull them in a hug. They’d curl up closer to him, their hands grabbing his arms tightly, as if they’re afraid he’d phase away. In less stressful moments like these, when he has time to gather his thoughts he wonders how he can still keep going through this madness.

He has lost track of the amount of times he’s gone through these loops. Even with a clear mind, his body has taken a toll. He can feel the tiredness all the way down to his bones. He hasn’t had a moment of respite in months is what his body is saying. Mark looks down at the Captain who has managed to fall asleep in his arms and it becomes clear.

He has devoted himself wholly to the Captain, even if those feelings aren’t returned. They became his anchor, his lifeline, that keeps him from drowning into the pits of despair. Seeing them gives him hope that they’ll make it out alive and they can go to that new planet and live the rest of their lifetime happy and free.

“I promise to get us out of this mess” 

These spoken words were left unheard as the Captain lies still and another loop starts.

Rather than leaving all the decisions to the Captain, Mark began to be more proactive in helping them out. Day after day and loop after loop, he knows when and where each problem occurs and when each reset might happen. Next thing you know each loop gets longer. From a few hours to a few days, to a few weeks. The Captain gets less stressed and their visage is starting to look more lively as it happens. They smile a lot more and they can even talk with him in a relaxed manner. Even when loops do occur they can go on with the knowledge that they are close to figuring out the truth and get out of the wormhole.

Mark had been working on a device made from spare parts in the ship’s storage room for a few days now. He had almost finished it in the last loop but the Bandit stole it. Said device proceeded to blow up when she took it. This time to speed up the process, they found Burt early on so they can work on it asap and change things accordingly. The Captain was tasked to find and wake up the other colonists and take care of them while the two worked on the device.

The Captain came in, two mugs in hand and Gunther behind them holding out two plates with a full meal. Mark heard the door open and stood up from his work station. He stretched his body, with a few areas letting out an audible ‘pop’ and ‘crack’. Burt had finished his part a few hours earlier and left to help out Celci with reorienting the colonists.

“How’d you know I was hungry?” Mark took a mug and a plate happily. He raised the plate and said “Thank you” to Gunther while taking a sip. The Captain tapped Gunther on the shoulder to give them their plate and he handed it with little trouble. “You can call me up again if you need anythin’ else Captain. I gotta go check out our weaponry. See if they’re in good condition.” Gunther did a two finger salute as he left.

As the doors closed, Mark set down his plate and mug. Cleaning the table, he moved his plate of food again to make space for the Captain. Setting down their own food, the Captain grabs a chair and sits down facing Mark. He moves his chair a bit closer with half his body facing them. The two ate while talking, updating each other on their own individual progress. Mark was doing the most talking as always but the Captain did speak out a few words. The ship has stabilized and most of the colonists had woken up. The Captain looks happy. When they finished up their meal and drinks, Mark got up and grabbed something from the other side of the room.

When he came back, he looked excited. Mark took the other part that was on his work desk and as he put them together, the Captain realized it looked like a shotgun. “I call this bad boy the Hole Destroyer” the Captain gave him a disgusted look. “What? What’s wrong with calling this big boy the hole destroyer?” Mark looked confused. The Captain wanted to answer but thought it wasn’t worth the time. He does have an odd naming convention for things. “Anyways, I built this with the knowledge from the previous loops but changed a few things around so it wouldn’t explode in our faces” Mark got down to the nitty gritty and science behind the item. The Captain couldn’t really keep up but understood it as ‘when it shoots it pushes the ship out of the wormhole’.

“Want to take it out for a spin?”

This was it, he could feel it. This is going to be the last loop they would ever have to face. The Captain agreed for them to go near the warp core and finish the job. There was always the probability that it didn't work but they had faith in Mark. Mark had never let them down before.

Mark turned the switch on and the shotgun looking device came to life with a loud whirr. It had to be charged up since the energy it will expel would create a lot of force, the edges were lit up red. The Captain was on standby, hand raised near the door, ready to open on Mark’s signal. As soon as the lights on the device turned green Mark shouted “GO!”. The door opened right after and there was a strong wind that came out of the thing. The wormhole got smaller and smaller and they shut the door, lest the two die from the lack of oxygen. Mark was on the ground, the device knocked out of his hands and his mouth agape. He couldn’t believe it worked! The Captain jumped into his arms and thanked Mark over and over. They’re free from that damned wormhole. First order of business, to get the Captain off of him. His back hurts from the impact.

From then on the travel to a new planet was smooth sailing. They landed on one that was similar to Earth. One sun, one moon, and one planet. It looked like an empty solar system but it was their new home now. The greenery that greeted them was stunning. It was a treat to the eyes that got used to the metalwork of the Invincible. The natural light is welcomed. Mark and the Captain started going out not long after the success of the wormhole incident. The colonists greeted them with cheers. Celci is the only exception since she messed with Mark that entire day, even questioning the Captain if they had a loose screw in their head.

They managed to find a good work-life balance. Taking care of the colonists in building new homes, infrastructures, and the like while having time for each other. Mark would often drag them out to lie down on the grass as they looked up at the stars and talk hours on end about their pasts and what they missed out on in each other’s lives. Other times the Captain would bring Mark some handcrafted gift with a love letter tied to it. They were truly living the life, so much so that they almost forgot about their torture. Almost.

Sometimes the Captain would be out and Mark would get worried that someday they might never come back or that he’d wake up in that cryopod again. All alone in an empty ship in the vast universe. He would get antsy those nights and the Captain would be the one to hug him close and assure him that it was alright.

But that didn’t matter anymore. Because another morning comes and he sees them out once again, talking with the colonists with a happy smile as they tackle a new project. He can rest easy knowing that it’s over. That nightmare has ended and they are here building a new world together.

Mark woke up. It’s in an enclosed space and it’s so cold. It’s not the familiar warmth of their house and there isn’t a scent of trees or flowers anywhere. His nose feels clogged up and his eyes feel puffy. He’s staring at a screen in front of him.

ABSOLUTELY CATASTROPHIC

Ejected from the cryopod, his senses were dulled but he had enough wits about him to hold on to the control panel. As the hull does its emergency shutdown something inside Mark snaps. He looks up again to Cryopod 2703 and this scene feels so familiar. He’s horrified.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

He rushes over, praying in his head that his fears won’t come true. His body and mind are on autopilot. Opening the pod, a body falls on top of him and he’s crying. His heart shattered into bits. Awake once again in that forsaken ship that’s stuck inside that stupid wormhole. And the Captain… oh god, the Captain. What about his promise and the life they shared, was all of that a lie. It couldn’t be, he saw them under the sunlight, looking over the colony with a satisfied smile. That wonderful person turned to him and kissed him, thanking him and cherishing him. That happened, right... He’s just having a nightmare right?

The Captain’s body isn’t cold. The Captain is still breathing softly next to him. The Captain’s heart's still beating. The Captain is still alive. They’ve got to be alive. They have to be.

But Mark couldn’t believe his own lies. He’s back again and he knows this cycle will repeat itself but he doesn’t think he has the strength to carry on after they had already reached their happy end. He’s so tired and he can’t keep his eyes open for any longer. He’s still crying, and he’s clinging on to the Captain’s body so tightly.

When he wakes up again he won’t care for the Captain anymore. His only objective is to put an end to this loop, even if that means he has to go against them.

Kukuku~ It’s not noticeable but if you look at the first letter of each sentence in the first paragraph, you’ll get “I LOVE YOU”. The idea for this one is based off of a popular fan theory in the Mystic Messenger fandom. Those that are part of it know the one. I rushed to finish this before Part 2 comes out because I fear Mark ruining my chances of a cute version of the ship. Maybe I should focus on the uwu puppy Mark next time... hah.

Extra: I once again planned this to be short but here we are! I should just stop hoping for my writing to be short. It’s never under 1k words.

Unused lines:

“Captain!” He turns around and is greeted with a dead look. “Captain?”- context: Based off of the spooky hall thing but in Mark’s perspective the Captain is just staring at him with a cold blank look. Never used it because the story didn’t go that horror route.

“Let’s get married in a space station” - context: This is what the original line was for the cute moment at the start. It was another nudge nudge wink wink to Mystic Messenger.

#fanfic #markiplier #acting attorney #actor mark x reader #engineer mark x reader

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Love Is A Curse | T.M Spider-Man Series P.2 (read content warnings & notes⚠️)

Series Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Tobey!Peter Parker x female!reader/ Black Cat (eventual romantic), tobey!peter x Mary Jane Watson (only for S1), Harry Osborn, Gwen Stacy, Eddie Brock, Norman Osborn, Otto Octavius, J. Jonah Jameson (pretty much every character from the Raimi trilogy)

Content Warnings: major angst, serious implications of SA (not explicit or detailed), aftermath of SA, descriptions of panic attack, blood, mentions of violence, profanity | female reader (she/her) | roughly 1k words, read with caution

Premise: What started as a great day, ended with lives changed forever. For one, she vowed revenge. And she couldn’t wait for how sweet it would taste.

Note: please read with caution, especially if you are someone you know is a survivor of SA. As someone who just graduated from college not even a year ago and was part of an organization to end SA on college campuses, I want anyone who has experienced a traumatic event such as SA to remember help is out there. Don’t be afraid to speak up, because the only way we are going to lower the percentage of dating, domestic, and sexual violence on college campuses is by using our voice to report and raise awareness. You are not alone, and will never be alone. ♥️

I am not going into detail at all by writing a scene because I’m not comfortable with that—I’m only writing the aftermath which implies it took place. In the comics, Felicia Hardy/Black Cat goes through this and it leads to her adopting the Black Cat persona in her storyline, so I wanted to do the same for Y/n. However I wanted to make it to where the reason Y/n ends up taking the murder/revenge route is because she didn’t get the justice through the system. Which unfortunately is a common reality of these cases. This chapter is pretty short, again read with caution.

I will tag those who are part of the masterlist tags for chapter updates, but again please read the content warnings & notes before you do read.

————————

Y/n had been standing in front of the bathroom mirror of her dorm for hours. Her reflection painted a thousand words. If a doctor or cop were to walk through the door, it wouldn’t take them much to piece it together. Torn clothes, bloodied face, and bruises in an array of colors. Y/n couldn’t even recognize herself—the girl staring back at her was not the same girl from that morning.

Ticking away was the clock—the only sound to fill the silent void. It read 3am, the Devils hour some liked to call.

Nothing good ever happens at night.

That’s why they tell you to always watch yourself—look for red flags. Get home, be safe, stay alert for anything.

But sometimes those who hurt you the most are the ones closest to you.

Y/n never saw it coming. How could she? They hadn’t been dating that long, barely would consider themselves a couple and both were so busy with other things they hardly got time to see each other. Maybe on average twice a week would they have free time to have dinner or catch a movie.

This night was different.

Y/n felt the shift in the atmosphere not long after he had entered her dorm. His movements sparked alarm along with the way he was looking at her. Any excuse to get him to leave came to her mind like ‘I have class early tomorrow, maybe we should meet up at a later date,’ or, ‘I’m getting pretty tired, I think you should go now.’ But they were to no avail.

Y/n pretty much disassociated after that. Felt like she had an out of body experience where she wasn’t truly there. It was the only way to get through it. Her roommate was gone for the night, and anyone who passed by more than likely had the bystander effect.

Which meant they did nothing. Even if they heard something wrong.

Now here she was staring at the broken girl in the mirror. No words had left her even after he left. The second he did all Y/n did was limp to the bathroom and lean on the sink to keep her up.

She had a choice now. One that would determine the trajectory of how the aftermath would play out. All Y/n had in terms of first aid supplies were a few bandages and hydrogen peroxide. That wouldn’t do much to what ever internal injuries she might have.

Y/n finally felt the cracks beginning to break as she tried to keep it together. But a human could only take so much.

Her knees finally gave out as the first wave of cries made their way through her mouth. A hand came up to muffle them as she lowered down until her back met the edge of the tub. Blood mixed with tears and saliva. Y/n felt like the porcelain doll being shattered against a wall.

‘Why? Why? Why? Why me?’ Her mind repeated over and over. The cries were a waterfall, never ending as the pain and anguish took over Y/n.

Her mind, body, and soul felt broken. And it would never be the same again.

The free hand that had been to her side came up to tangle in her hair. Gripping it hard, Y/n felt strands pull out until several wrapped around her fingers. That’s when her fingers started to tremble and her breathing became fast.

That’s when she started becoming scared—feeling her airway constrict against the waves of her cries. Her brain was telling her to calm down, but her body was filled with a sensation she couldn’t describe. The trembling in her hands which felt like stinging turned numb.

‘Stop—stop,’ she kept thinking as her heart pounded against her chest. ‘No-no-no please, no’

Everything hurt. Everything was a blur. Y/n didn’t know what to do as she laid on the floor of her bathroom willing her mind and body to calm down so she could breath. A dizziness sensation had her leaning her head against the edge of the rub, blinking repeatedly until she let her eyes fluttered shut.

‘Think, Y/n—think of dad—of mom,’ she ordered herself. ‘Think of ice skating during Christmas’

The memory started to replay the moment the words entered her mind. It was one of the only Christmases where her dad was there—after he had went to prison the first time. Y/n was eight going on nine and had always wanted to go ice skating where the big Christmas tree was at. Her mom had always told her ‘we’ll go next year’ when she started asking at the age of five. Her dad surprised her that year, taking her without her mother knowing and the two spent hours at the rink. ‘Careful, Y/n’ he laughed when she almost slipped, holding onto her hand tightly. Her face was red from laughing so much, on top of a sore bottom from falling several times. But it was the best moment of her life.

And it was one of the happiest memories she had of her dad.

Just thinking about that night had Y/ns breathing slow until eventually she found a constant pace. The numbing eased away, the tears coming to a end. The dizziness was gone and she could feel the air flow though her—no longer constricted.

She knew what she had to do. If she was going to make sure he couldn’t hurt her or anyone else again, then she had to do something about it. The feeling of shame and guilt was replaced by anger.

Love. That’s what he tried saying when it was over. That he loved her. His pathetic excuse for violating her—for breaking her mind, body, and soul.

Monsters can’t love. And neither do they deserve it. It’s greed and power they desire, and use love as their scapegoat to gain it.

‘Love is a curse,’ Y/n thought as her bruised jaw clenched, ignoring the pain from the movement. Darkness filled her eyes, muting out the normal Y/E/C they bore. ‘Love is a curse, and I’m going to make sure he knows that.’

Getting to her feet, Y/n grunted at the pain in her ribs as she limped back into her bedroom. With shaky hands, feeling conflicted for a moment, Y/n picked up the receiver of the landline—her thumb moving to dial a certain three-digit number. With one last push of courage, Y/n hit the call button and placed the receiver to her ear.

Her breath hit the end of it. It was wavered and matched the pounding of her heart as the nerves in her raised again. But she was focused, determined, and anger fueled her. There was no way she would not get justice. That fucker would not have the last laugh.

“Nine-one-one, what is the nature of your emergency.”

Y/n caught her reflection in the mirror hanging behind her bedroom wall. It was now or never. She’ll go the justice system route, praying to God they will do something.

But if they fail her, his fate will lie in her hands.

“I need to report a rape.”

…………………………..

Tag list: @todaywasafairytale07, @r0bynsblogins, @edgycatx, @andrewgarfieldsloml, @fuck-goes-on

#tobey!spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #tobey!peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #tobey!peter parker imagine #tobey!peter parker x reader #tobey!spiderman imagine #tobey!spiderman x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel #marvel imagine #black cat #black cat reader #spiderman x reader #spider man sam raimi #angst

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 6

The final part!! I hope this is a satisfying conclusion! Thank you so much to everyone who has reblogged/commented/shared - it has meant so much. Special thank you again to @morganofthewildfire I'd still be working away at this fic if it wasn't for you, I don't know I ever would have finished it off. Your comments and analysis helped me so much and made this fic better than I could have alone, I'm so grateful.

13k - masterlist - ao3

--

There are five weeks between the eventful wrap party and her first day shooting the Netflix miniseries in Antica. Five weeks for Aelin to sort her shit.

It’s ambitious, and probably unattainable, but she needs a goal.

She needs something to draw her mind away from Rifthold and the director she knows is no longer there.

She gives herself a week of self pity. A week of lying around her sparsely decorated and impersonal Orynth apartment dwelling and pointedly ignoring the headlines she knows have been released. Elide let her know only one picture was captured of her with tears in her eyes leaving the party. Only one and gods bless Elide she shut it down.

Aelin lies on her uncomfortable couch in well-worn pyjamas with unwashed hair and runs through the photos on her phone of her and Fenrys, her and Manon, and the group of them together on set doing whatever shit they used to do.

She spends more time than she should like that. She sits there until her coffee table is overflowing with takeaway wrappers and Aedion and Elide have stopped texting more than once a day. She’s awful for ignoring them but she’s still mortified.

She hasn’t been able to look Aedion in the eyes since he dropped her back at her apartment after their long flight home from Rifthold. He didn’t say much. After he managed to again get her out of the party with minimal press she had cried, curled up between Aedion and Lysandra in their bed, and he didn’t offer judgement or instruction.

He just held her, whispering words she can’t remember but appreciates anyway. Now she hasn’t replied to any of his texts.

She hasn’t texted Fenrys or Manon either. She doesn’t know what to say.

She knows Fenrys jumped immediately into another movie, an action movie she knows he’s been chomping at the bit to get training for, and Manon into the second series of her show that she’s probably too famous for now.

They’re busy. They’ll understand. At least that’s what she tells herself.

The worst thing she does in that week is pour over the photos she has of Rowan. She didn’t realise she had so many but her camera roll is full of silver and green.

There are photos of just him, looking like Rowan, tall and handsome and understatedly happy, smiling covert little smiles at Aelin behind the camera. He was used to her instructing him to pose by the end of filming, she loved snapping away as he did anything. Eating, sleeping, smiling, everything - if it was Rowan she wanted it captured.

Now every photo is a knife to the chest.

The ones of the two of them together are worse, they twist the knife, pain splicing through her until she can hardly breathe. There are pictures of their cheeks pressed together, eyes shining, some serious, some silly. In all of them Aelin can clearly see her own happiness.

She can’t stop looking at them even as tears swell in her eyes and her throat gets tight.

For one week.

Until it’s been seven days since her flight landed back in Orynth and she gets up off her couch and deletes them. She almost doesn’t, her thumb hovers over the button for a good minute before she presses down but then it’s done and they’re gone. She showers and changes her clothes, she throws away all the rubbish on her coffee table and makes a plan.

Filming the movie with all of them it was easy to feel better than she did before, surrounded by new and exciting things, new people who didn’t know her before or treat her differently because of it. It was easy to lose herself in who she was there and with them.

Now though, she’s back to real life and real life lasts for an uneventful three weeks.

She tries what she can, she reads, she runs, she bakes, she teaches herself how to knit. None of it is satisfying and it's hard to make it stick. It’s all boring and never quite captures her attention the way she hopes. Never captures her attention enough to tear it away from Rowan and Rifthold.

A week before she flies out to Antica it changes.

She stumbles upon the change, completely accidentally, and she doesn’t realise what she’s needed until it's right in front of her.

Her usual run route is obstructed by construction and so she takes a left where she usually takes a right, heading down into the west side of the city, the side she doesn’t often frequent.

She used to. She used to spend hours strolling the streets letting the warmth of the sun and Sam’s hand in hers settle into her skin as they observed the numerous bakeries and small boutiques. Thankfully the scenery appears to have changed since.

The chill breeze of the September Orynth air teases the loose strands of hair tickling her face as she comes to a stop outside the sleek shop front. The wooden panels are painted a dark, glossy black and the windows are polished so brightly they reflect what’s left of the sunlight.

Music of Mistward the sign reads in curved, white lettering.

She can see her reflection in the shop window, her cheeks flushed, hair unruly, her running gear nowhere near to what would be appropriate attire for the shop dripping in class but she can’t turn away.

A bell tinkles as she pushes through the door, her headphones gripped tight in her fist as the gentle jazz playing over the sound system greets her. She doesn’t like jazz, it’s not her thing, but along with the musk of wood in the air it’s soothing in welcoming her in.

She passes walls of guitars and violins until she reaches the instrument that caught her eye. It’s sleek, black lid propped open revealing the elegant strings, pulled tight in neat lines. The sharp contrast of the keys against each other, bright against the deep black of the case. Her fingers ghost over them, dying to press down.

She hasn’t played since those days in Rowan’s Doranelle home. She’s wanted to, longed to feel the cool keys under her fingertips and the flood of the music pouring out of her, but the cheap keyboard in her Orynth apartment wouldn’t do Rowan’s beautiful instrument justice.

Aelin would rather not play at all than attempt a cheap imitation of what she felt there.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice sounds behind her, low and raspy but cheerful all the same.

She turns, taking in the older man, his grey hair cut short and his classic shirt and slacks pressed crisp. She glances back to the piano before facing him fully.

“Stunning,” she breathes.

The man steps forwards and offers her his hand. She slips her hand into his and he pumps firmly as he introduces himself.

“Emrys,” he says. “Welcome to Music of Mistward.”

“Aelin,” she says, surprised to hear her voice thick.

“Great to meet you, Aelin,” Emrys says with an ancient smile. He nods towards the piano. “Do you play?”

“No,” she says and Emrys’ smile flickers. “Yes, I mean I used to. I want to,” is what she settles on.

He nods, satisfied, before taking a step closer to the piano. He runs a hand over the top, almost reverently and smiles to himself.

“Antique,” he starts, “almost one hundred years old but well loved. I acquired it recently - here we deal mostly in antique instruments, it’s a passion for both myself and my husband. The previous owner only sold it to me when she inherited it and didn’t know how to play, she wanted it to find a good home.”

He shares a smile with her as if she’s in on the joke but her breathing still hasn’t settled.

“Satin Ebony finish,” Emrys continues, “eighty-eight keys, all original but preserved to the highest quality. Accompanying bench, cut with refreshed velvet. I don’t know in all my years I’ve seen such a fine instrument as old as this.”

Aelin glances back to the piano, it’s big, it won’t fit in her apartment in Orynth but she doesn’t care. She can… adjust. She hasn’t felt a pull like this in a while, she doesn’t want to deny it when she does.

“How much?” she almost demands from the man in front of her.

He appraises her and she knows what he sees. Her bedraggled state and the tension through her shoulders doesn’t give the impression of someone with this much cash to throw around. She abruptly ignores that the way she probably can afford this is because of Rowan’s movie.

When he doesn’t speak she repeats herself, more firmly. “How much?”

“Our price includes delivery and tuning on arrival.” He seems apprehensive of telling her the truth. Aelin waits.

When he finally reveals the figure Aelin blinks. And then she extends her hand. “I’ll take it.”

To his credit Emrys just nods, shaking her hand. “You don’t want to at least play it first?”

Aelin feels the smirk she hasn’t worn in a while creep onto her face. “Is there a risk you’re pulling a fast one on me?”

Emrys returns her smile, a playful glint in his eye. “Not a chance, Aelin. Please follow me to the register where I can take your details.”

Aelin almost stumbles. Almost, but then recovers.

“Any chance I can pay a deposit and then let you know where you’ll be delivering sometime soon?”

Emrys winks knowingly. “Absolutely.”

She follows him to the counter, signs away part of a disgustingly large total of money but leaves with a sense of satisfaction. It’s an accomplishment, a step for purely selfish reasons.

The first thing she does when she leaves the shop is call Elide.

Aelin meets her new therapist two days before she flies out to Antica.

She hasn’t called her old one in months and thinks that’s probably a sign. And she’s all about changes at the moment.

She isn’t shooting in Antica for too long, only a couple of months until she’s back in Orynth and then back to Rifthhold for press. Her stomach drops everytime the thought wanders into her head.

She’s excited to be back in Rifthold, but the company is daunting.

Fenrys and Manon will easily be pissed at her disappearance. She knows Manon will play aloof but she also knows she’ll be upset, Fenrys too. Aelin didn’t mean to hurt them, didn’t mean to drop off the face of the Earth, and she knows she’s let them down but Fenrys and Manon remind her of Rowan. She couldn’t trust the conversation not to eventually steer towards him and Aelin isn’t ready for that.

Their break-up feels weirdly anticlimactic. After everything they built to, Aelin just dipped.

She knows it seems that way to Rowan at least. She hasn’t texted him, or rang him or anything since the party. She’s wanted to, wanted more than anything to hear his voice as she cried, but it’s not fair to him to drag it out and she knows that. She knew when she drew the line she had to stay on her side of it, no matter how much it hurt.

She had cried until her head pounded and her throat was raw. She cried until her eyes itched with no tears left to fall, until all that came out of her was hoarse screeches as she ached to hear him call her Fireheart one last time.

But no one needs to know that, she had kept it as hidden as she could.

She definitely didn’t need any more paparazzi pictures of her with red-rimmed eyes looking downtrodden. She couldn’t bear the thought of Rowan, or worse her mother, seeing them.

She knows Fenrys and Manon; Aedion, Lysandra and Elide would see through her flimsy excuses and so it was easier to stay quiet.

She’s not thinking about facing them yet. She supposes that will be something that likely comes up with this new therapist, but so far on her own, she’s choosing avoidance.

She gets Maeve’s number from Dorian, and she comes highly recommended by a number of Dorian’s other high profile clients. She’s well-versed in non-disclosure agreements, secret sessions and back street exits; she feels like the perfect fit for Aelin.

Unofficially, Dorian lets her know Maeve takes no shit, and that’s also just what Aelin needs.

They agree to online sessions while she’s in Antica, but Maeve recommended an initial meeting and Aelin is open to all of her suggestions.

Their first hour is not directly her most life changing but it’s a start.

“Welcome, Aelin,” Maeve says, sweeping an arm out towards the firm-looking, orange couch in the centre of the room.

Aelin takes a seat, mutters her thanks and glances around the room.

The room should feel cold with the exposed brick and minimalistic decor, the only furniture being the couch Aelin perches on, the almost regal armchair Maeve reclines in and a lamp, but it doesn’t and she gets comfortable tucking her feet beneath her thighs and leaning against the arm.

“So,” Maeve begins, surveying her in the way only a true professional can. “Let’s get started.”

Aelin feels bare beneath her gaze, and like everything about Maeve and her practise it should be unnerving but she just blinks against the scrutiny.

“Why are you here today? You could start with sharing why you have made this appointment.”

And isn’t that the million gold-mark question?

Aelin takes a deep breath through her nose and raises her chin.

“I don’t want to move backwards,” she admits. “Or maybe I just want to know I’ve actually moved forwards.”

Maeve’s expression stays calm, but Aelin knows she’d be smirking if she could. She’s well aware of how therapy works but even so, speaking her thoughts aloud can help to verify them in her own mind.

Aelin hopes so at least.

Their hour is over quickly and Aelin is resolved that Maeve is a good fit, reassured in Dorian’s claim that the woman takes no shit. Her all-knowing assessment of Aelin should have been unsettling but the frank dissection is what she needs.

Online therapy, especially fitting it around shooting might be a challenge but it’s for the best. As much as she values her independence and standing on her own two feet, Aelin is big enough to admit that facing her mother again may require some professional guidance. Seeing Rowan too, but again, she’s not thinking about that yet.

Antica is hot and Aelin is sweaty within seconds of stepping out of the air-conditioned luxury of the airport. That feeling lasts the entire time she’s there, disrupting the otherwise enjoyable time she has shooting the series.

Her new co-stars are fine, they invite her out with them and make her smile but she can’t help as though a part of her is always comparing them to who and what she left in Rifthold. Aelin tries her best to enjoy her time there with them, she hosts dinner parties and invites them to a game of Aedion’s but nothing quite hits the same as her time spent on The Crescent City.

She rationalises it to Maeve, that The Crescent City was a big turning point in her life and that it has nothing to do with Rowan, Fenrys or Manon, but she’s not sure she even believes it herself.

She spends the rest of her time in Antica trying to convince herself, and Maeve, that she’s moving past it. That she’s moving forwards or else she’ll move backwards. She’s not sure how much of it is futile.

The Crescent City is done, whether she likes it or not, and she can’t deny it changed her in ways she didn’t expect. It’s a hard pill to swallow that maybe it changed her beyond return to how she was before. She also can’t quite figure out whether she thinks that’s a bad thing or not.

They have a dinner for the core cast and crew, including Rowan, once they’re all back in Rifthold for the beginning of the press cycle. They have one night to reacquaint before they’re shoved into the whirlwind that is interviews, photoshoots and promotion.

She’s seen the trailer already and it’s just as she expected but more. It’s dark and dreary with flashes of brightness from herself and Fenrys and she’d want to watch it if she chanced a viewing as a member of the public.

What is surreal, is to see herself in a polished version of the film they were creating. Or at least a part of it.

She said each of the lines, rehearsed them over and over until they fell off her tongue without thought, but she still doesn’t recognise the girl in the trailer. A droplet of pride slips down her chest at the realisation that it’s not Aelin in the trailer but Feyre. She knows she’s good, has known it all along, but the realisation and reaffirmation is ecstasy better than any drug.

She hovers outside the restaurant, watching through the window, needing a couple more seconds before she submits herself to the assault of them all again. She still hasn’t replied to either Fenrys or Manon and the thought presses on her like lead but it’s too late to change that now.

If she’s honest she’s concerning herself with Fenrys and Manon in the hopes of distracting herself from the fact that she’s seconds away from Rowan. Seconds away from him in the flesh, his solid body in front of her that she had learned almost as well as her own.

Her palms are clammy and she wipes them against the fabric of her trousers. The upcoming interviews and photoshoots will all be styled for her and so she’s relishing in her last moments for a while of truly dressing like Aelin.

She takes a step towards the restaurant door, the tip of her trainer bumping the wood when a voice sounds behind her.

“Well, hello there, Stranger.”

Aelin braces herself, hand paused outstretched where it had been reaching for the door.

She turns, biting her lip as she faces Fenrys. He looks the same as he did, skin still golden, eyes still dancing with mischief, but his golden curls are trimmed shorter than the last time she saw him. His expression is carefully blank.

“I- Hi… um,” she stumbles over the words. “I’ve missed you.”

Fenrys breaks almost immediately. “Oh thank the fucking gods.”

He surges forwards and wraps her into a tight hug. Aelin clings to him, fighting the tears in her eyes as she buries her face in his chest. She’s gone far too long without this, without him, and it’s all her own fault.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” Fenrys asks. “Oh wait, no you don’t. I’m assuming your phone broke, or was stolen or something since you never replied to any of my texts letting you know.”

Aelin knows her cheeks are stained pink. “I’m sorry,” she admits.

“I know.” His voice softens, losing the teasing edge as he presses a gentle kiss to her cheek.

He pauses before he speaks again, his eyes running over her face. “You could have texted me anytime, you know. Manon too. I know you might forget or try to convince yourself otherwise, but we are your friends. You could have called us about literally anything.”

Aelin feels like she could cry. She’s not sure that she isn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be about anything serious, especially not related to the movie,” or Rowan he doesn’t say but Aelin hears it. “We just wanted to hear your stupid voice.”

Aelin pouts. “My voice isn’t stupid.”

She pokes her tongue out as he rolls his eyes, easily falling back into the dynamic they had shaped a few months ago.

“Not what I meant,” he says before pausing, taking her in as she stands in front of him. “You can’t lose us that easily, you know. We’re like rats or fleas or something. Hard to get rid of.”

“Nice,” she comments, but her chest is tight at his words.

He smiles at her before adding, “and you had fucking better text me back.”

Aelin laughs through the sniffles he’s kindly ignoring. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and finds his contact. Hi she sends and feels his phone buzz against her.

“Much better,” he says and releases her from his arms. “Now, are you ready for a night of the finest dining all on the studio credit card?”

Aelin laughs again. “Lead the way.”

He shoots her a wink and waltzes ahead to hold the door open for her.

Fenrys’ presence shouldn’t reassure her the way it does, especially after the way she has treated him but she clings to him anyway. He’s her buffer for now, a crutch for tonight and tonight only. Once tonight is over and tomorrow begins she and Rowan can be professional, they managed it for months during filming and this should be no different.

Rowan still looks the way he did the night she broke his heart.

His silver hair falls elegantly over his forehead as he bends his head to talk to Manon, the pair of them are engrossed in a conversation as she and Fenrys walk over, not spotting them yet. She loves his hair, loves the thick silver waves and the way they feel between her fingers. She loves the way any attempt he makes to arrange the thick strands is never quite able to tame the beast. She loves the shirt he has on, with the sleeves rolled up exposing inches of tanned skin and dark ink, the same worn green cotton she wore numerous times around his living room all those months ago. She can still remember the feel of it against her bare skin.

His smile is the same, his green eyes crinkling as his lips barely part as he does his best to hold it back.

His smile is the same until he spots her.

He catches sight of her when she reaches the table and his smile drops, the shutters closing over his expression so fast she wouldn’t know he knew how to smile had she not just seen it.

It tears her chest in two and any attempt at a smile on her part is futile. It’s all she can do to make it to her seat without stumbling and she’s sure she misses any other greetings she gets as she slumps onto the chair opposite Manon. She absently notes Fenrys dropping in at her side.

She can’t look away from Rowan, her eyes scanning to try and find anything that distinguishes him from the man she loved all those months ago. She finds nothing. He’s still Rowan and Aelin still… fuck.

He recovers before she does, ever the collected courtier, clearing his throat and nodding.

“Aelin,” he says and she adores the sound of her name on his tongue.

“Hi Rowan,” she manages and hears how weak she sounds. Rowan hears it too. She can tell from the purse of his lips and the tension in the hand he rests along the back of Manon’s chair.

Aelin allows her eyes to drift to Manon and she finally catches the thunderous expression the younger girl wears.

“Hi,” she whispers and Manon blinks.

“Hi?” Manon repeats incredulously.

Aelin is fucked.

“Five months and I get a hi?”

It’s loud and a few heads turn their way. It’s simultaneously mortifying and everything Aelin deserves.

“I’m sorry,” she says plainly.

She could lie, make up some useless excuses but in the end there’s nothing else but the truth and if Manon wants her to grovel she will, she’s just not sure this is the time or place.

Fenrys shares her thoughts. “Later, Manon,” he says, gently.

Rowan’s eyes stay firmly glued to the tablecloth as Manon frowns, seemingly unwilling to let it go.

After a few seconds, seconds Aelin spends waiting for the ground to open up and swallow her, Manon nods. She nods and turns to Fenrys, demanding to know what he’s ordering. And just like that Aelin has a moment to catch her breath.

She knew this dinner wouldn’t be easy, knew she’d be walking into the lion's den of her own making, but she hadn’t expected it to be as hard. Hadn’t expected seeing Rowan to feel like a slap, hadn’t expected Manon’s hurt to scrape across her skin leaving her raw.

She tries not to think she deserves it, Maeve would only raise a brow as if to say we’ve been over this. The thought is sobering, and she manages to lift her head.

It is what it is, what’s done is done and she can only apologise and move forwards.

As much as she tries to resist, Aelin finds herself watching Rowan throughout the night. It’s scary how familiar he feels, he should feel like a stranger, but he feels like she knows him too well. He laughs when she expects, rolls his eyes when she predicts. He orders what she thought he would and he sips away at an orange juice the way he did the first dinner they all had together.

Aelin already feels so different than she did the last time she was in Rifthold and he seems unchanged.

She observes for most of the night, feeling drained despite her minimal contributions to the conversations. She speaks when spoken to and actively avoids speaking when Rowan does, she definitely doesn’t respond to anything he says even though she wants to at least twice and wants to laugh a couple more.

She makes it through and clings to Fenrys again as they all leave, linking her arm through his as they leave the restaurant. He knows what she’s doing but graciously guides her out of the building. Once on the pavement outside the restaurant he pauses and turns to her.

“What hotel are you staying in while you’re here?”

The rest of the group are milling about, calling taxis and bidding their farewells. Aelin doesn’t know how she’s getting back yet, she’s assuming she’ll split a ride with someone.

“Um, the Glass Castle, I think,” she says, desperately trying to recall the name of the hotel she dumped her bags in a few hours earlier.

“Boo,” Fenrys laughs, pointing his thumb down. “They’ve got me in the Torre Cesme. Think I’m ages away from you.”

Aelin laughs, disappointed but ready to order her own taxi back when a voice she didn’t expect sounds.

“I’ve just ordered a cab to the Glass Castle, I’m staying there too. You can jump in if you want.”

Rowan.

She shoots Fenrys a panicked look but his expression is pure glee.

“That would be great thanks, Boss,” Fenrys says, shrugging his arm out of hers and nudging her towards Rowan.

“No problem, Boyo.” Rowan offers Fenrys a dark grin at the nickname and the sight of it stills her. It’s new, he used to roll his eyes whenever Fenrys would drop it into conversation, but now Rowan’s playing along. And the grin, the curl of the lips and the narrowing of the eyes, it’s sexy as fuck.

It’s only taken one night and she’s back in the danger zone. She doesn’t want to be, hell, she wants him to take her back to his hotel room and peel off her clothes but this is Rowan. She’s spent the last few months trying to get over him, falling into bed with him the first night she sees him again would not likely be defined as progress.

He’s also not likely to want that after what she did.

“You don’t have to,” she says. The first direct thing she’s said to him since their greeting.

“I know.” A slight shrug of his broad shoulders. “But we’re going to the same place, it wouldn’t seem logical to take different cars.”

Logic. That’s all it is.

“Right.” She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so awkward with him, not even at the start. “Thank you,” she says, following him to the car.

Fenrys shoots her a grin as he slips into his own taxi. Traitor.

Rowan holds the door open for her and slips in behind her. She tries not to think anything of the fact he could have easily taken the front seat.

The ride is silent apart from the easy chit chat he makes with the driver, another thing she’s not sure she noticed him do before, and she stares out the window as the city passes by. The streets of Rifthold are not her home but she feels a brightness as she glances down the curving roads, spotting groups of people milling about enjoying the night.

She knows the first call she made to Elide in weeks was the right call. Elide is the only person she’d trust with her bank account and access to real estate listings. The link to the flat her friend had sent over has stayed open in her browser since she got it.

It’s modern with classic twists, situated in a recently renovated old warehouse with miles of exposed brick and rustic wooden panelling. She loves the master bedroom the most, with its adjoining en suite with a huge bathtub she can picture herself soaking in. She has a viewing booked in two days but doubts she’ll even need it.

It’s not long before the taxi pulls up outside the hotel and she follows Rowan through the glass doors. He presses the button for the lifts and Aelin shifts in the awkward silence.

Awkward is not something she’s used to with Rowan. Or it wasn’t before.

The doors slide open and again she follows him inside.

He pauses with a hand hovering over the buttons for the floors. “Which floor?”

“Nine.”

Aelin hates these one word exchanges compared to the hours they used to share talking about everything and nothing. She can’t believe this is the man she was so vulnerable with.

His short huff of laughter drags her gaze to his face.

“What?”

“Makes sense,” is what he says, shaking his head and pressing only the button for the ninth floor.

The ride takes seconds, a minute at most, filled with the silence between them.

When the doors open to the ninth floor she steps out, determined not to follow him again, and she feels him follow her. Even now she’s so aware of his powerful body and the way he moves it. She shouldn’t be so attracted to the power emanating from him, from the breadth of his shoulders to the sureness of his steps. She wants him, doesn’t think she ever stopped, except now he’s the forbidden fruit. Forbidden only by her own actions.

She reaches her door, room 905, but pauses with her key tucked in her hand.

“Thanks for letting me share your cab,” she says, finding herself desperate not to say goodbye yet. “I can transfer you for half.”

That finally, finally, cracks a whisper of a smile but she’s not sure she enjoys his laughter if it’s at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

That should be the end of it, she should open her door and shut it behind her, they have a few weeks ahead of them that will be hard enough without any complications.

She left him and he seems gracious enough to have mostly moved past it.

“It was good to see you, Aelin,” he says, seemingly unwilling to let the night end as well. She doesn’t let the seed of hope sprout because what would be the point?

Nevertheless, Aelin smiles, leaning back against her door.

Rowan continues, “even if I wasn’t sure how the night was going to go.”

Her attention is spiked. “What do you mean?”

She can’t lie, a part of her expects him to back down at the edge to her voice. He doesn’t.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to pretend nothing ever happened between us.”

She blinks, giving herself a second to process.

Maybe this isn’t the same Rowan from all those months ago. That night he let her walk away from him, gods know she needed it, but a dark little part of her had wanted him to fight her harder. Fight harder for her. When he hadn’t she’d taken it as her sign.

She knows the expectation was toxic, if he had fought her it would have only pissed her off, but she wishes she’d had someone to tell her it was the wrong choice. It would have helped to hear in the moment, rather than be faced with Rowan months down the line that she wants and can’t have.

The Rowan in front of her, the third Rowan she’s known, stares her down. His eyes peel away each of the layers she’s worked with Maeve for months to don in a second.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

It’s honest and maybe she’s not the same Aelin as a few months ago either.

That’s what she had asked for that night in the cool air, to move past them with as little commotion as possible, stirring up as little attention as they could. She hadn’t wanted to let them eclipse the movie and yet that ended up being exactly what she had accomplished.

Now though, Aelin knows better.

Rowan nods as his eyes dart across her face. He seems to step closer without realising. Aelin notes the motion, still so aware of him and his proximity to her.

His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “I was so angry at you for leaving.”

Aelin loses her breath at his confession.

Eventually she manages, “was?”

He looks away from her, glancing down the dark hallway, his jaw tight. When she’s with him she forgets about the world around them, there’s probably-definitely-CCTV in this hallway but he’s here and she can’t let him go yet.

His fists curl and uncurl as he takes a deep breath.

“Was,” he says shortly. “I was so angry at you, the way you did what you did was shit.”

Aelin swallows. He’s not wrong.

“I know.”

“But now I don’t know.” She lifts her eyes to his, swimming in the openness she doesn’t deserve. And fuck that. That is such bullshit. She meets his stare, returning all that he isn’t saying. “I spent a long time thinking about it, thinking about you, and it took me a while but now I get it.”

That hurts more than she expects. She didn’t expect him to be all over her the minute they reunited but his understanding was always a kicker.

“I know why you did it,” he continues. “And that took most of the wind out of my sails.”

Aelin frowns. He can’t possibly know why.

“I don’t think you do.” He tilts his head, an invitation for her to expand. “Or you’d know that nothing has changed.”

“Hasn’t it?”

His question throws her. Completely.

She tilts her head up to look at him, closer to her than he’s been all night, pushing her to keep being honest with him.

She’s dazed being this close to him again after so long, the green of his eyes stronger than she remembers. Or maybe her brain had assured her the memory of him couldn’t have been real.

“I don’t know,” she admits, unable to fight the way her body leans into him.

His teeth graze his lower lip and she follows the motion.

He’s silent for a beat too long and her skin is thrumming under his attention. She doesn’t know how she’s gone this long without him, she doesn’t know how she thought she’d survive never having him again.

“Let me know when you figure it out,” he says finally, drawing back and a rush of cool air fills the space he had taken. “Goodnight Aelin.”

He turns and she watches his back down the hallway. He slips easily into a room a few doors down and she’s left watching the path he’d taken, feeling the weight of his eyes on her lips.

Her head thuds against the door as she screws her eyes shut. She wants to scream, wants to chase him down the hall, wants to fly back to Orynth where she was safe.

She doesn’t do any of those things.

She tucks herself into her hotel room and readies herself for the whirlwind that’s about to hit. These next few weeks are going to be hard, not just dealing with the Rowan situation, but she can’t fight the excitement she feels.

Fuck. She’s back in Rifthold, back where she loves, doing what she was born to do.

This is big. She can feel it.

The Crescent City is not her first project, and so she’s been a part of press cycles before, she knows how they go. What she doesn’t know is how a press cycle for something like this works.

The only word she can find is insanity.

There are somehow earlier mornings than they had while shooting and often longer days. She gets poked and prodded in hair and make-up for hours before they spend all day sat in a hotel room filming repetitive interviews for various magazines.

She and Fenrys are genuinely friends and yet they still have to put on a show in front of the cameras. She plays up her laughter when he cracks a joke and he makes sure to never look away from her for longer than two seconds when she speaks or a producer behind the camera makes a comment.

She loves Fenrys but it’s exhausting. Her only blessing is that for most of her engagements she’s with Fenrys and Manon with Rowan conducting his own interviews separately as she had hoped.

Sometimes though, given their relatively similar ages and general level of chemistry, they get grouped together.

The four of them are filming a video for Buzzfeed, filling in a quiz to find out which character from The Crescent City they’re most like. She’s unsurprised to discover her result is Rhysand and it’s fun even if her heart does pound every time she has to act like she’s unfazed and friendly with Rowan.

There’s a moment, just a moment, where she almost breaks from her friendly and unbothered interview persona. It’s her turn to read the question, what item could you not survive without on a desert island?

It’s Rowan that speaks. “Her shampoo,” he says, “it’s jasmine.”

There’s a split second where she doesn’t speak, where all she can do is stare at Rowan, stunned that he remembered and thought to mention it now.

In that split second she’s transported back to memories of them together in the shower at her rented apartment, kissing lazily under the spray after spending hours between her sheets. She remembers dumping the shampoo into her hand and then onto his head, massaging his thick locks and surrounding them in the scent of jasmine.

She remembers how he kissed her neck as she did, trailing his hands over her silky curves, slick with the soap, with his kisses building in heat until her hands dropped to his shoulders. He’d lavished kisses down her chest until he’d jerked back, shampoo in his eyes and she’d laughed until he was safe and pressed his lips again to hers, continuing where he’d left off.

She’s shocked he’d bring this up when there’s a camera on the two of them and she can only imagine the comments it will spark. She’s not sure she cares if it keeps Rowan’s eyes on her.

“It’s luxurious for a reason,” she says when she recovers, tossing her thick locks over her shoulder. “Well worth it.”

She doesn’t miss the flicker in his own mask at her comment.

That kind of interaction will no doubt ignite the sparks she’d only ever wanted to avoid.

As the press cycle goes on and on, and they get closer and closer to the premiere it only becomes harder for her conviction to hold.

She tests her own argument, the clear line she drew in the sand, when she manages to keep it professional with Rowan and she’s not sure where that leaves her. She had thought they would overshadow everything about the project and now she’s not sure.

She said nothing had changed and he had challenged her.

She’s still not sure who’s in the right.

Everything is simultaneously completely new and exactly the same. Rowan is still gorgeous, still charming in his own reserved way, still almost reverent when he talks about his craft throughout interviews. He still talks with his hands and Aelin still can’t draw her eyes away from their motions, she still craves the touch of them on her skin. He’s still seven years older than her and the director of her big break.

Yet there are differences.

They’re still often on the same page, offering similar answers and backing each other up but now he never backs down from a challenge. Now he doesn’t hold back those comments she knows he was always dying to let slip. She should be annoyed, everytime he drops a line that pushes her to expand a little part of her wants to roll her eyes.

She doesn’t though. Her blood heats and her skin prickles. She loves this with him. Loves the dance they play, the teasing, verbal games that shouldn’t start her off but do. She loves the smirk he wears when they end up down that path, and she knows she wears it’s mirror image.

She always ends up squirming in her seat and it should be wrong but it isn’t. The cameras can’t see below their chests and the flush in her cheeks could easily be from the warmth of the day.

She’s beginning to wonder if she’s powerless against Rowan Whitethorn. If she’s powerless against the green of his eyes or the curl of his accent. The slant of his brows or the points of his teeth when he smiles.

She doesn’t know that it’s just one thing. It’s all of the things, it’s all of him, and more so than ever she’s completely fucked.

But they aren’t talking outside of the interviews and photoshoots, and the knowledge of which hotel room is his itches her toes every night. It would be so easy to sneak down the hall, to knock on the door and slot her lips to his when he opened.

It’s only a couple of nights before the premiere when the temptation becomes too much. She’s been around Rowan all day, surrounded by the smell of his aftershave, the notes of pine and freshness and Rowan and it’s too much. She strides down the hallway, resolved in her decision and closes her fingers over the button for the lift.

She needs to be elsewhere or she’ll make some bad decisions.

She’s come so far, survived months without him, she can’t cave due to proximity.

The hotel bar is deserted when she walks in and makes a beeline to the bartender. Yeah, maybe after her wobble at the wrap party a bar isn’t the best decision she could make but her options are limited. Trying to sleep with Rowan is, after all, probably the worst of both options.

“Just a sparkling water please,” she says to the barman who nods and returns a moment later.

“Put it on my tab.” A voice from the end of the bar.

A laugh bubbles out of her chest as she closes her fingers around her glass. Of course he’s here. She should have spotted Rowan the minute she walked in and it’s cruel that the reason she didn’t was that her thoughts were too wrapped up in him.

“Be careful what you sign up for,” she says as she walks over, her steps measured as she comes to a stop before him. Her hips swing of their own accord and his eyes dart up and down the length of her. “I can put a number of these away.”

The smile he gives her is surprisingly unguarded. It seems he’s done holding himself back too. Aelin loves it.

“I don’t doubt it,” he says, nodding at the stool next to him. She obliges as he speaks again. “It’s hard to switch off sometimes.”

He’s always on the same page as she is. Aelin shrugs, taking a sip of the drink he bought her.

They’re quiet for a moment, both unsure of how to break the silence between them when one of the last things they knew was the taste of each other’s lips.

“I keep thinking I’ll get used to it, that one day this will just be my job, but I never do,” Aelin says eventually, tracing a fingertip through the condensation gathered on her glass.

Rowan nods, smiling softly down at the bar and taking a sip of his own drink. An orange juice as usual.

“It’s hard to sleep at the end of days like today,” he says. “It’s why I’m in here.”

The bar is dark at the late hour, and quiet with no one else in there but them and the bartender. There’s something about the late hour, the darkness and the stillness surrounding them a break from the recent rush, that feels a little bit too close. She feels a little too exposed under the weight of his gaze but she rolls her shoulders back and leans an elbow on the bar as she turns towards him.

“I thought you’d be used to all of this by now,” she says and he cocks his head.

“Why?” His question is coy, begging her to expand.

“This is not your first rodeo and all of that,” she says with a smile.

Rowan laughs softly, the sound curving around her like an embrace.

“It can still be overwhelming after your first big movie,” he says gently, but with an edge to his voice that she needs to immediately get rid of.

“I don’t doubt that,” is what she whispers and his brow seems to soften, sensing her lack of malice.

She hates the way they’re in the position where he assumes the worst of her. She has to make that change.

“I don’t think if I get to do this for the rest of my life that it would ever feel normal.”

“No,” Rowan agrees, “I don’t think it could.”

“So then we need this film to do well.” Aelin shifts on the stool, finding herself leaning closer to him without conscious thought. He doesn’t retreat. He stands his ground until they’re only inches apart. “Lest we find ourselves fading into obscurity.”

“I doubt you ever could,” he says with a laugh and it’s the best thing she’s ever heard.

As he looks at her, his expression soft in the dim light, his smile holds something special for her and her chest lifts that she managed it. That he was willing to give that to her.

“My agent sent over the initial critic reviews earlier,” he says and her stomach plummets.

“And?” she demands, her voice wobbling slightly. Her confidence from a minute ago vanished.

This is the moment where she could sink, the moment this could all be over.

“And they’re good,” he almost whispers.

“Good,” she repeats and it’s not a question but he nods.

She wants to throw herself at him at the news, a couple of months ago she wouldn’t have even hesitated, but now she sits clenching her fists and trying not to smile too wide. It feels like a waste. She’ll never get this feeling again.

She turns to him and he’s smiling so she does what she’s wanted to for months. Aelin leans forwards and wraps an arm over his shoulders, pressing her chest to his.

His arms slip up slowly over her shoulders at first, unsure but gaining confidence as he tightens his grip around her, drawing her further into his chest. Aelin laughs a little, throwing her other arm around him and resting her face against his shoulder.

It’s not enough, it never could be with him, but it will do. She’s just happy he didn’t push her away.

Eventually, after a length of time that feels far too short, she pulls back to see him gazing down at her with an expression she can’t name. His brows are drawn in with his lips gently parted. He’s happy but apprehensive, open but distant. Aelin will take what she can and the distance between them has always been too far.

She wants nothing more than to close it, to draw herself into him and he into her, but she can’t. They’re here for one thing and one thing only and she refuses after what they’ve been through to mess it up again.

She knows he can read her own expression but she doesn’t care. She’ll hide from everyone and anyone but she’s realising she could never hide from him.

She wants Rowan, will probably want him for the rest of her life, but she made the call and he’s wrong, things haven’t changed.

Apart from all of the things that have.

The day of the premiere Aelin feels sick.

Her stomach twists and she tosses and turns all night and the dark circles under her eyes are brutal as a result. Her make-up artist tuts but diligently packs concealer on until Aelin looks well rested. Or as close as she can.

She’s trying not to think of the stretch of carpet she’ll have to walk tonight, a smile plastered across her face as she poses for the hundreds of cameras. Their premiere is one of the biggest of the season and, along with Fenrys, she’s the star.

She’ll have nowhere to hide.

Aelin sits in front of her mirror, her hair and make-up are done but she’s yet to get dressed. She takes herself in, making sure to note every strand of hair to every line of her lips, feeling as though she needs to remember this moment. The moment before it all explodes.

They’ve been building to this for almost a year now and this is as close to a culmination as she’ll get.

Her dress is something fierce. Endless, flowing velvet in the darkest shade of black. Long sleeves and a fitted bodice with an almost indecent dip in the back. The dress would be modest without that cut out, she can’t wear any underwear it dips so low.

It would be a simple dress, some might even dare to say boring, if it weren’t for the back. The majority of the fabric that remains is covered in gold embroidery taking the form of a dragon, coiled to strike. Aelin adored the dress the moment her stylist revealed it to her. She didn’t consider any of the other dresses, didn’t even acknowledge them as options.

The dress is what she needs, something strong, something to help her hold her head up high. She can walk the red carpet and stare down every single person who doubted her and know that they were wrong.

Aelin doesn’t need their approval. She doesn’t need the reassurance of faceless commenters, she doesn’t need the support of the magazines and the newspapers. She doesn’t need her mother’s approval. On anything.

Aelin is confident and self-assured and she can walk the red carpet knowing that.

Her sessions with Maeve have helped to reassure her stance, but she’s realising day by day she’s known it all along. It’s just taken a little bit of digging to uncover it.

She slips into her dress and it slides on like a second skin. She takes in her appearance, the arch of her brow and the red smirk of her lips makes her look intriguing, like a confident young woman.

Aelin was born to be an actress but she’s proud to say the sight in the mirror is real.

She poses for a few photos before she’s led out of her room and into the car, waiting to take her to the theatre.

She spends the ride in silence, barely listening to the jabbering of the aide in the car with her, and she focuses her thoughts on the calm before the storm. She takes deep breaths and centres herself the way Maeve has taught, she knows this could so easily be overwhelming but she’s determined to enjoy it.

The car stills and she can hear the noise of the crowd outside. She takes a final deep breath and allows her lips to spread into a smile. This one is genuine, nothing forced about it, and she pauses for one last beat.

This is big and Aelin is ready.

The car door opens and the sound hits her like a wave, slamming down onto her and it's so loud she can hardly think.

This is it. This is the moment she has dreamed of.

The nights where this image was all she could cling to to make it through could never have compared to how it feels standing here now, screams of her own name wrapping around her and urging her on.

Her steps are slow and purposeful as she glides down the path forged for her, the red carpet beneath her stilettos is plush and bright. She pauses where she’s instructed, rolling her shoulders back and smirking at the cameras with a hand on her hip.

She knows she looks incredible and the shouts of the photographers do nothing to change her mind. They are here for her, they’re all here for what she has accomplished, along with Fenrys, Manon, Chaol and Rowan and everyone else involved.

There are so many forces upon her, the flashing of the lights, the screams and shouts calling her name or Fenrys’, the magnitude of what this is could knock down a lesser individual but all it does is raise Aelin up.

She’s been through worse than this and survived, she’ll stare down the lense of all of these cameras, of everyone who has ever spoken her name and she won’t cower, she won’t just survive. She’ll thrive.

A warm hand lands on her waist and somehow the flashes of the cameras explode.

“Hey, golden girl.” Fenrys’ words are almost hard to hear even though his lips brush her ear. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Aelin wraps her arm around his back and grins, “I thought I’d at least show my face.”

He returns her smile and together they pose for the cameras, their shoulders back and smiles confident. She’s not sure this could be better.

Until she turns slightly to her left and gets flashes of silver where she and Fenrys are gold.

Rowan and Manon, posing for their own pictures mere metres away. He looks spectacular, the deep black of his tuxedo doing nothing but bringing out the depth of his tan and the shine of his silver hair.

He’s smiling his public smile and it’s gorgeous even though it’s not her favourite of his smiles, she loves the private ones he used to save just for her, and her own smile falters at the sight.

She’s here with Fenrys and it’s not wrong but it doesn’t feel right. The arm around her waist shouldn’t belong to Fenrys.

She should be where Manon is, smiling up at Rowan while they marvel at what they’ve accomplished. She knows her smile has dropped and she fumbles for anything to plaster onto her expression other than the longing she feels for Rowan.

As if she’d called his name he turns to her, green colliding with blue, and she knows he feels the same.

And that hurts far more than all of the months they spent apart.

All the months she spent hurting, trying to deny what she always knew, trying to pretend that they were anything other than a force of nature. They had been an eclipse, threatening to over take all of this but she was wrong. Rowan was wrong too.

It doesn’t matter whether everything or nothing has changed because she wasn’t right in the first place.

She should have known better than to think that whatever flimsy decision she made could halt what they were, what they should be.

She can only hope he forgives her. She can only hope he feels the same.

But the thing about this new Rowan is that she can’t read him the way she used to read her Rowan, she can’t tell if the way he steels himself and turns away from her is a dismissal or if the look they shared had been just as painful for him as it had been for her.

“A masterpiece.” - Rifthold Reporter

“Fenrys Moonbeam shines alongside Aelin Ashryver in The Crescent City. See our full review here.” - Wyrd Stone

“Latest Rowan Whitethorn flick smashes Box Office records.” - Valg Weekly

“Unapologetic, daring and thought provoking. Award nominations expected to follow for The Crescent City.” - Terrasen Tribune

Her phone has not stopped buzzing for the past four days.

Dorian texts every waking hour with the updates he gets, the numbers coming in and all her latest offers. It’s surreal. She knew they were good but she’s not sure she ever really expected this. Aedion texts her a picture every time he sees or hears her name, it should be terrifying the frequency with which he texts her but she has to fight back her smile each time he does.

She managed to find an hour the night before to call Lysandra and the majority of their call had consisted of Aelin repeatedly asking what the fuck was happening while Lysandra cackled down the phone.

She’d even got a text from Lorcan. It was alright, he’d written. Followed by, I hope I die before ever having to watch you make out with someone like that again.

She’d sent three middle finger emojis and a kissy face in response.

Now is probably not the best time to move to a different country but she’d signed her name on the papers two days before the premiere and Rifthold is calling, irrespective of the fact she’s only been back in Orynth for two days.

Most of her stuff headed out yesterday with the moving company leaving Aelin with two suitcases to fly back to Rifthold with tomorrow.

There’s one last place she needs to go before she heads back to finally get a good night's sleep before her flight tomorrow. She’s never set foot in this graveyard before, she’s never had the courage to dare before, but she’s emboldened. By the success of the movie, by her progress in the past year, by her sessions with Maeve. This has felt like a natural step.

The shining, black headstone is understated and classy and completely to his taste.

Sam Cortland. Beloved son and brother, taken far too soon.

Aelin waits with her head bowed, allowing all of her emotions to rush through her veins. She doesn’t fight them, it would be pointless to try, and she embraces the tears that gather. Eventually she steps forwards, placing the smooth, small stone on the crest of the headstone.

She rests her hand on the cool stone for a moment before sinking down and crossing her legs beneath her as she leans against it.

“I’ve missed you,” she says aloud, “I can almost hear you telling me to stop being such a sappy shit. I can’t help it, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

She pauses, letting the wind drift through the field sweeping her words away.

There’s no one else here but her and Sam, no one else she’d want to hear her confession.

“I wonder what you would have made of all this. I think you’d tell me to enjoy it all, to not miss a moment, and I’m not. I’m just choosing the ones I want to savour. And this is one of them, Sam. I wish you’d been there with me, you would have loved it, the cameras, the lights, everything.

“I have to keep pinching myself to know it’s real, I did it, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come and see you.”

She sighs, letting her head tip back to rest against the stone. She didn’t prepare anything to say, didn’t realise she’d even want to speak to the open air but here she is.

“I’m not the same Aelin as the girl you knew anymore,” she says after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t think I would have the capacity to love again after you but I did, and I feel terribly guilty that I do. I have to remind myself that this is what you would have wanted, you would have wanted me to be happy.”

The silence in the field is more than an answer enough. So typically Sam to give her an answer without so much as speaking a word.

“I was happy,” she says, trailing a fingertip along the words etched into the stone. “I will be again.”

A faint haze of sunlight drifts through the Orynth autumn clouds, a whisper compared to the chorus of brightness she misses in Rifthold, and she stands, brushing off the dirt from her jeans. She touches the stone one last time before turning and heading out of the graveyard.

Her visit was years overdue but her chest didn’t crack open the way she had expected, the tears hadn’t been relentless the way she had expected. She’ll visit him again the next time she’s back in Orynth, probably visiting Elide and Lorcan for Yulemass, and she’ll visit again and again for as long as she lives.

But for now, she has a plane to catch.

Months later and two days before the Oscars, when they’re all back in town for the ceremony held in her new home city of Rifthold, Fenrys throws another party.

She’s managed, this time, to stay in touch with Fenrys and Manon, having made up with the younger girl before the press cycle had finished. Aelin knows her upset was real but partly suspects the animosity was a front. She even finds herself participating in the group chat with the three of them and Rowan. She’s only texted him one to one once to wish him a happy birthday and they had caught up briefly but not texted since.

She’s missed him in a different way to the last time she missed him. This time missing him doesn’t feel necessary, it feels wrong not to text him, wrong to be away from him and she’s itching to see him again.

It’s no one's birthday this time but they’re all together again to celebrate, no matter the results they’ll see in two days. Aelin is very carefully measuring her excitement about her own nomination for best actress. Fenrys is up for best actor, Rowan best director and the movie best picture.

She’d almost dropped her phone in the toilet when she found out from Dorian a few weeks ago.

The party is small but still in full swing by the time she arrives. Big names from the industry, all in town for the ceremony, are scattered all around Fenrys’ Rifthold apartment. He’d bought a place here not long after Aelin and she’s secretly relieved she’s not the only one so moved by their experience.

She waves to a few people she knows and tries to stay calm when she spots Sartaq Khagan in the corner chatting away to a small group of people. Holy shit Fenrys has some famous friends.

Aelin finds herself a glass, tops her orange juice off with a splash of lemonade and begins her rounds. So many more people want to talk to her after the movie dropped.

Her mother had been one of them, and Aelin’s thumb had hovered over the accept button for a moment before decidedly pressing decline. She had blocked her mother’s number a moment later, and then she had made some calls closing the bank account her mother kept topped up and arranging for every penny she’d ever received from Evalin Ashryver to be paid back.

It had hurt, emotionally and financially, especially in the month she’d moved to Rifthold, but it had been worth it. To never let Evalin pass any judgement over her life again was a relief worth any cost. Aelin’s hoping there’s a possibility she could end up with a reward.

She doesn’t know how long she spends talking to big name after big name and it’s a realisation that drops onto her that she fits in here. Aelin Ashryver is a big name. No matter the outcome of the ceremony she has prospects, already a number of projects lined up and she’s loving every minute of it.

She drains her cup for the third time tonight and heads back into the kitchen. She’s barely seen Fenrys all night, and she doesn’t even know if Manon is here.

She frowns into the fridge, there was definitely a full bottle of orange juice in here the last time she topped herself up. She shuts the fridge and spins around.

“Looking for this?”

She should have known.

Rowan looks predictably gorgeous in the dim kitchen lighting. All tanned skin and silver smiles. He’s dressed in her favourite look of his too, worn denim jeans and a soft cotton shirt.

It’s the softness in his gaze that really takes her though, it seems the animosity from the last time they saw each other has faded if not disappeared. Her chest squeezes at the thought. She has no idea what could have triggered it but she will take it.

“Nope,” she says, stepping over to where he stands with an arm braced against the counter at his side, the other holding out a bottle of orange juice. “I was hoping Fenrys would have some chocolate in there but I guess this will have to do.”

She takes the bottle from him, her fingertips brushing his and she feels her cheeks heat at the innocent brush.

His smile is genuine and she knows what he’s remembering because she’s thinking of it too. The first time she visited his house during filming and their moment in the kitchen. They’ve been through cycles, she supposes, but hopefully now for the better.

“I’m sure we can find you some somewhere in here,” he says as she fills her cup, pulling open the cupboard next to his head.

Aelin smirks. “I’m going to leave the rummaging through Fenrys’ cupboards to you. You could find anything in there.”

Rowan winces, closing the door before returning her smile. This is friendly and the hope that’s been planted in her chest begins to sprout.

“Yeah, maybe not,” he says with a conspiratorial smile. “We wouldn’t want to risk it.”

Aelin pauses for a moment, taking in the glory of him in front of her. He’s still Rowan, he’s still tall and deliciously broad. His silver hair is slightly more grown out and there are a couple more lines around his eyes but she doesn’t care, in fact it’s charming. He’s still and always will be stunning. She takes a sip of her drink before she takes one of her biggest risks so far.

“I’ve missed you,” she says, not daring to look away from his face.

He bites his lip, his tongue darting out to soothe the skin before he speaks. “I’ve missed you too.”

The smile that spreads across her face is all too telling but he’s smiling too so she doesn’t think it matters. He definitely feels the same and she’d be annoyed at the months she spent worrying but the relief is too sweet.

“Good,” is what she says, far too happy they’re here to bother with pretending she’s anything other than ecstatic. “Congrats on your nomination.”

His eyes dart to the floor and then back up at her, he’s too modest about his own skill and Aelin adores it. “Thank you,” he says softly, “you too.”

“Thanks,” she says. “I couldn’t have done it without you. All of you.”

“Me neither,” Rowan says.

He’s close to her now, closer than he has been to her for months and her skin cries out for contact. She almost can’t believe she’s here now, talking to Rowan without any animosity, days before the Oscars that she’s nominated in.

The smile that takes over her face is completely of its own accord. She’s floating and it seems Rowan is too if the beat they share, exchanging incredulous smiles, is anything to go by.

“It’s crazy, right?”

She’s been asking herself the question for so long it seems only natural it slips out to him.

He laughs softly, and the rough sound curls straight to her core.

“Definitely,” he agrees, his voice low. “I don’t think last time felt like this.”

Aelin slaps a gentle hand to his chest and ignores the thrill that shoots through her at the eventual contact. “I get it, this is not your first nomination.”

Rowan rolls his eyes and she didn’t know how much she missed this, playing with him. She adores his reaction every time, the begrudging amusement he only lets shine through to make her smile.

“Some of us have never been nominated before, this is all completely new.” Aelin takes a sip of her drink. “I had to give up my social media accounts to Elide, it got so crazy.”

Something flickers over Rowan’s face at her comment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes darting across his face trying to decipher the expression. “She’s always had access and I still do so I can post if I want to but it just became a lot. It stopped being fun when I would see what people were saying, whether it was good or bad I don’t want to see it anymore.”

Rowan nods before his eyes lock onto hers, the intensity in his expression shreds her control.

“And you said nothing had changed?”

Aelin gets it now.

She shifts her weight, leaning as close to him as she can without sliding herself completely into the circle of his arms. “I was wrong. Lots of things have changed,” she says, her voice quiet but strong. “And lots of things are now right that weren’t before.”

She doesn’t mean to skirt around the truth, hiding in veiled words and double meanings, but as always, Rowan sees her. He sees her meaning and he smiles. It’s the most beautiful smile Aelin has ever seen him wear.

“I’ve been looking for you two.”

Fenrys bursts into the kitchen, startling Aelin back from Rowan. She hides her guilty smile in her drink and notices Rowan doing the same. Fenrys just grins, clearly enjoying whatever he thinks he’s seeing.

“You’re missing out, we’re playing kings in the living room if you want to join?”

Rowan glances at her before he turns back to Fenrys. “I think we’re good, thanks.”

Fenrys’ smile turns smug and Aelin resists the temptation to flip him off. She’s in too good of a mood to be annoyed at him.

“Okay, see you later, lovebirds,” Fenrys says, already on his way back out of the door.

Aelin pretends she isn’t blushing as she turns back to Rowan, his green eyes shining.

“This might sound crazy,” he says with an alluring tilt to his lips, “but do you want to get out of here?”

She’s reached a point she truly never thought she would.

She’s an Oscar-nominated lead actress in a box-office-record-breaking movie.

She’s happy, healthy and out from underneath the thumb of Evalin Ashryver.

The part that’s most uplifting, the part that has her unable to wipe the smile off her face as she strolls down the streets of Rifthold, is the arm she has tucked through Rowan’s.

They’ve been walking for a little while, enjoying the cool night air and the ease with which they managed to sneak out of Fenrys’ party. Her heels are killing her and Rowan very graciously offers her an arm to lean on and each time she takes a step in time with him she smiles.

“I never thought I’d like doing television,” he says.

She didn’t know he’d taken on a miniseries, similar to the one she’d done after filming, but she’s loving the recap she’s getting of the months they’ve been apart. The chill of the air is more than fought off by the warmth of Rowan by her side. The streets are mercifully empty and she can bask in the knowledge that it’s just the two of them out here, that they’re insignificant, that anyone who sees them will immediately dismiss them.

“I always thought I’d stick to movies, singular stories but I enjoyed it. I guess change can be good.”

Aelin laughs softly and squeezes his arm. He looks down to her, a question written in the slant of his brow.

“Change can definitely be good,” she says as she takes in the sights of the skyscrapers surrounding them. “I would know that I suppose.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I bought a flat recently.”

“You did?”

He’s so graciously giving her the floor to say what she needs to say and she holds his arm even tighter.

“It’s right here in Rifthold.” Aelin avoids his gaze, lest he think it’s a speedy invitation and that that’s all this is. “I bought it just after we were back here for press, I realised that I adore Rifthold and being here. I missed it when I wasn’t here and I don’t feel there’s anything holding me in Orynth anymore.”

Rowan laughs softly, his feet scuffing the floor.

“What?” she demands.

“I swear I’m not following you,” he says and she feels a smile creep onto her face. “I bought a loft here too.”

Aelin gasps. “But your house was gorgeous!”

Rowan’s smile twists as he looks away from her. “I didn’t say I sold the house.”

Aelin cackles as she squeezes his arm, the sound joyous and bright as it echoes around them. “I knew being Mr Big-Name-Director has its perks.”

“It does,” he agrees with a smirk.

Aelin wants to kiss that smirk. Wants to pull him down and twist her fingers through his hair as his own tangle along her skin.

Instead she says, “I copied you somewhat too.”

He only raises a brow.

“I bought a piano like the one in your house. It was too big for my old flat in Orynth and so I knew what I had to do.”

“That’s good,” he says as his arm drops out of hers. She almost pouts until he instead tangles their fingers together. Her smile says it all, reflected back in his own. “You play beautifully.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks are glowing. “You’ll have to come over and I’ll play for you sometime, neighbour.”

“I’d love to.”

Aelin slows, using the hand tangled with his to pull him to a stop too. Her free hand trails a gentle path up his chest before coming to rest at his collar, her fingertips tracing the golden skin peeking out from his shirt. His free hand finds her waist.

They’re close, closer than they have been in such a long time when he speaks.

“I don’t know what you think has or hasn’t changed.” His hand leaves hers to cup her cheek. “But I still feel the way I used to about you.”

Her heart takes off, pounding within her chest.

“I do too, Rowan.” Some of the easiest words she’s ever said to him. There’s something about the way the streetlights shine through the silver tips of his hair and the way his calloused fingers feel between hers that she’s feeling brave. “I loved you then and I love you now.”

His eyes flicker across her face as his smile dawns, taking over his face as he smiles so brightly. This is all she’s ever wanted, to have a Rowan like this, with pure, unfiltered happiness in his eyes as he looks at her.

“You love me?”

“I do. To whatever end.”

His lips are barely a whisper from hers and she only acknowledges the thought that they’re in public for long enough to realise she doesn’t care.

“And I love you.”

His words are simple, but sweet. They wash over her and settle into her skin as his lips land on hers. He kisses her with what she can only describe as love. His lips pour devotion onto her and his hands light a fire inside her as he tastes her tongue.

They kiss for longer than she can keep a track of, wrapped up together illuminated only by the street lighting. She’s missed this, missed him, and she can’t help but feel right when his hands are on her. She can’t help but feel right as she stretches onto her toes to throw herself into his kiss.

This was never wrong, this was one of the first things she knew was right.

She loves him and he loves her and nothing and nobody else matters.

She doesn’t win the Oscar, and neither does Rowan. Fenrys does and she screams herself hoarse cheering him on as he makes his way to the stage.

The moment that takes the cake is when The Crescent City takes best picture. She takes to the stage with some of her best friends to recognise what they achieved together and maybe she is a soppy shit but she definitely cries. Fenrys laughs at her and Manon grins but Rowan just throws his arm around her shoulders and it's worth it.

Afterwards, she logs into her Instagram account for the first time in a long time. She posts a picture of Rowan looking absolutely delicious with his tux unbuttoned and his bow tie hanging untied around his neck with a greasy burger in one hand and hers in his other.

Posting him is a statement but she doesn’t care. In fact, she wants the world to know. She wants the world to know that nobody does it like he does. Nobody does it like they do.

#rowaelin #nobody does it like you do #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #rowaelin au #ndilyd #i cant believe it's the last part of this fic #crazy #hope you all enjoyed

[cyoc49]

Auto Pilot

James was 18 and already shaping up to be a disappointment in life. After spending four years of high school slacking off, doing drugs, and not caring about anything, he now found himself a freshman in college with little prospect of where to go. He was attending the local community college - he hadn’t even wanted to do that, but his parents threatened to kick him out and cut off funding if he didn’t do some higher education. Now he found himself wandering aimlessly around campus. He had no idea what his major would be, no plans of any kind, really. He wanted to stay as distant from this college experience as possible.

To be honest, James did sometimes think about his lack of aim in life. The truth was he truly did fear committing to anything in life, for the risk of making the wrong choice, and so invented a “don’t care” persona to cope with his lack of place in the world.

James arrived at his dorm, and made his way upstairs to his room. He shared it with some guy, Clide. They didn’t talk much. As he got to the door of his room, he noticed a package sitting in front of the door. He picked it up and inspected it. Relatively small, lightweight, addressed to him. Odd. Usually this type of thing would be sent to the mail room. As James entered his room, he put the package down on his desk. Clide wasn’t there, he was probably at class.

“Might as well check this thing out,” James said to himself as he opened the box. Inside was a big red button reading AUTO PILOT.

Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that. It was one of those comically oversized buttons like you saw in movies. He had never seen one this big in person. And what did “Auto Pilot” mean?

Looking back into the box, James found a small booklet labeled “User’s Manual”. He picked it up and read the contents:

“INCREDIBLE AUTO PILOT BUTTON

Life can be exhausting. School, jobs, bills, food, house troubles, and countless other decisions have to be made and executed every day. At the end of the day, is all the grind really worth it? Wouldn’t you rather take the easy route? The better route?

The Auto Pilot button is simple. Press it, and your life will be set to “auto pilot”. We’ve spent decades studying the behavior patterns of successful people, and have created a formula by which we have the correct response to every obstacle and issue you will ever face in your life. Job troubles? You’ll always be a hard worker who knows how to get what he wants. Social issues? You’ll have the right line for every occasion. You’ll be more outgoing, more ambitious, and best of all: you don’t have to do any of it. When you’re on auto pilot. You can sit back and watch as your body makes all the right decisions for you. One press is all that’s needed.

Enjoy your life on auto pilot!”

James checked the back to see if there was anything else. He didn’t know what to think. He almost wanted to laugh. It had to be a joke, but the tone of the pamphlet was so certain that it could also be the delusions of some eccentric billionaire. Ah well, at least he finally had something to go on his barren desk. He slid the auto pilot button to the back corner of his desk, then paused. He pressed down on the button, just to see what those big red buttons really feel like.

Unfortunately for James, one press is all that’s needed.

*click*

As the button clicked down, James’ body slumped.

His eyes went dead.

And then he suddenly smiled.

And he kept smiling.

James was 22 and life was looking pretty great. After pressing that button his freshman year, James completely turned his life around, as if overnight. He suddenly started paying attention in all his classes. He began going to the gym, and joined an intramural soccer team. By the end of his freshman year, James had gained 25 lbs of muscle, going from a boney 150 to a beefy 175. He also ended his year, with a 4.0 GPA, and used it to apply to the local state school. It just offered him more opportunities than community college, and had better networking circles. James got in handily, and that fall found himself moving across state to university.

Almost as soon as he landed on campus, James continued his life climbing. He declared majors in international business and finance, knowing the money opportunities that lay there. The course load was nothing for James, as he always worked on homework at maximum efficiency. In fact, he had time left over to join a club lacrosse team.

Through his finance classes and lacrosse practices, James came to realize the social circle he needed to join if he wanted to get ahead: The rich preps. They were the ones who exuded the aura of success he wanted to project, and the ones with the connections to jobs after college. He modeled himself after them. He began to dress like them, in khakis and pastels, and leather loafers. Vineyard Vines, Ralph Lauren, and Brooks Brothers invaded his closet. He began to manage his hair, combing it into a neat side part every morning with pomade. He researched golf news, followed stock market trends, so he would have topics to talk about with these preps.

Slowly, by bringing up the points he now new about with classmates, and by projecting the image of a successful young preppy professional, James came to be accepted as one of their own. One of the boys. His ultimate dream. From that point it was easy: James was Mr All American, effortlessly witty and charming. By the time he was a senior, James was on fire. He had served as captain of his lacrosse team for the past 2 years, was top of his business classes. He had met several of his new friend’s fathers (all of them CEOs), and in most cases the fathers ended up liking James more than their own children. James was a professional in all aspects, and he did it all with a bright, mindless smile.

The one thing James hadn’t accomplished in college was finding a girlfriend. Of course he’d had several offers, but he never took a woman to call his own. Every once in a while he found himself staring at the guys on the lacrosse team while they changed, but these were only fleeting feelings. Certainly not the most efficient way to live his life.

But this didn’t matter to James. In just a few months he would be graduating top of his business program, and thanks to the father of a friend he had a job lined up at Plexicorp, one of the biggest marketing chains in the nation. James was only 22 and he was a consummate professional. Is this what a perfect life looks like?

James was 30 and on top of the world. After graduation he went right into work at Plexicorp, and immediately assumed the stereotype of a “young urban professional”. His work ethic was tireless, and through a mixture of countless golf matches and the perfect water cooler humor, James quickly became the most popular guy in his office, and the model employee. He rose in the ranks quickly, and was now a regional manager with a six figure salary at only 30.

With extra cash to spare, James had gone to work giving his life an upgrade. He bought clothes from extremely expensive brands, though sticking to his preppy classics. He got salon quality pomade for the classic styling of his hair (which had only gotten lighter over the years), and routinely had dermatology and dental work done to keep his face looking as fresh as possible. He bought a serene little cookie cutter McMansion out in the suburbs. Even with all this going on, he perfectly worked time into his schedule for gym and nutrition, keeping his body in peak shape even as he got older. At age 30, James was quickly approaching a DILF.

With the perfect job, the perfect clothes, and the perfect body, you’d think James would have quickly found a suitable wife, or at least someone looking for a QoL upgrade. But even over the years, James still never found himself fully committed to women, even though he knew starting a family young would be most productive in the long term. In a particular night of conflicting emotions, James made his way to a leather bar on the outskirts of town, where a nice 50 year old man with a beard and a harness taught James what he had always known. He was gay. And he loved it.

There must have been a hole in the Auto Pilot system. Certainly heterosexuality would be most efficient for a successful life, but somehow James’ base feelings came through. Of course he had no way of knowing what was going on in his body. All he knew was what was most efficient, and what felt best were in opposition to each other right now.

Eventually, with a smile, the straight James won out. After his encounter with the leather clad friend, he quickly found himself not thinking about sex at all. A life of chastity was certainly good enough for him. Letting sex be for pleasure hardly worked out, as we see. Sex should be for utility. Creating the family. And to get a family, he needed a wife.

The following weekend James took a trip to his local country club, and after a bit of scouting, chatting, and brown-nosing, James was introduced to Amber, an interior decorator. She wasn’t the most brilliant with a conversation, but she was single and looking to marry and that was enough for James. They went on several incredibly vanilla movie and dinner dates, where hand holding was the most action either of them got. After 8 months, they married and moved in together.

Now standing here at 30, James looked in the mirror. He felt his decently-sized chest push against the cotton undershirt and mint green button up sitting on top. His rotund and muscular ass was perfectly wrapped by his khakis. He looked down at the counter of his bathroom. Marble. With plenty of space. Even with his tricky sex situation, James had to admit he had a great body and a great life. He had made (almost) all the right decisions, and was reaping plenty of the rewards. As far as living life, this was a pretty good way to do it.

James was 40, and life was perfect. The shareholders of Plexicorp were so impressed by his keen business instincts and impressive management, and at only 32 offered to make him the youngest shareholder in the history of the company. From there he went from “pretty well off” to “disgustingly wealthy”. James knew how to invest his money well, and from the moment of that promotion never worried about money again. He moved into a mansion in the nice part of town and upgraded his wardrobe to suits, suits, and more suits. Now that he was one of the elites, he had to project as such. He kept his appearance as clean and refined as possible at all times. He loved to flash off in a khaki suit (a nod to his preppy roots), and with his now perfectly-blonde hair, he was the absolute image of refinement. He had certainly aged like fine wine, and there was no doubt about it: James was a DILF.

The only sore spot in his life has been Amber. After years of trying and failing to conceive due to lack of excitement, Amber eventually asked to file for divorce. James knew he had to grant her this, and handled the proceedings quietly (and generously) to let go of her gently. At 35, James was finally meeting a dead end that his Auto Pilot skills were unable to find a solution to.

Until he had an investment meeting with a local stock analyst named Robert

Robert was an image of success, beauty, and sharpness that James had seen in only one other man: himself. It was almost unnatural how beautiful and crisp Robert was. His perfectly parted hair. His well-fit gray suit and polished dress shoes. As James eyed this man up and down, it dawned on him. Robert must have made every decision perfectly in life to look like an image of success in his his 30s, because he did. Robert had help from Auto Pilot too. And judging by the lack of a ring on his finger, and the way he was eyeing James in the exact same way James was eyeing him, James had a suspicion that Robert had the same problem he had.

Robert was someone whose every value, choice, and lifestyle matched up with James’.

James knew exactly the right decision to make.

The two flashed each other perfect smiles and firm handshakes, and although the topic of their first meeting stayed on stocks, it was clear there was a mutual spark between the two. They quickly decided that weekly investment meetings would be best, which turned into lunch meetings twice per week, which turned into dinner, which turned into something much more. The two took it slow, to be safe, but it was clear they were disgustingly perfect for each other. On Tuesdays and Thursdays they met up at the gym at 6AM to exercise together. They had quickly learned they wore the same suit size, and exchanged looks on several occasions. Robert taught James just how he achieved his razor sharp part, and James taught Robert how to match pocket squares to outfits. After a few years of dating they married in a picturesque countryside summer wedding, and both knew this one would last.

Now standing here at 40, James could genuinely say life was perfect. He had gone from an aimless place in his life to the top of the world, and although it had been a bumpy road, he was now with the perfect partner living a life of gentility. Checking his suited image in the mirror one last time, James left the bathroom and walked to the front door where Robert was waiting. The two had plans to attend an orchestra show and get dinner at the nicest restaurant in town.

James flashed Robert the perfect smile, and Robert returned the favor.

“Ready to go, darling?” James asked the man of his dreams.

“Of course, love.” Robert replied in a smooth tenor. The two briefly joined to kiss, before heading outside where the driver was waiting to take them into the city for another wonderful night.

#gaytf #preppy #gay #preppy tf #preppytf #stepfordization #straight to gay #gay to straight #suittf #suitandtie

[pocketsizedquasar]

it’s been a bit now so. misc 200/end of mag in general thoughts? under a cut because this is a bit long, and i will preface this to say that i mostly enjoyed the episode but this is going to be mostly my criticisms, bc i feel like the good parts have already been well covered by people other than me. so yeah just a warning this is mostly crit

- it’s Still very hard for me to parse how i feel about this episode, but i think after sitting on it for a bit, i’ve come to the general conclusion that i am very satisfied plot-wise (in terms of tragedy/the structure of tragedies, the open-endedness of our ending, the general Writing TM), but not so much satisfied character-wise (in terms of arc and relationship resolution). I think we deserved more resolution on wtgfs -- i wanted more with them! more with melanie and jon; more with the melanie and georgie and basira’s side of the plan. more than that really small tidbit that we got at the end! and... honestly? a little bit more emphasis on the weight of Jon actually dooming other worlds in the end, and what that means for Jon and for wtgfs/basira. Especially with the context of the consequences re: the Web...won. no caveats or complications, the Web got. Exactly what it wanted.

- on that note,  From a uh. Critique against capitalism standpoint I’m not sure how I feel about the ending? And I don’t really want to. Read too much into what isn’t there? But I mean mag has long been a pretty explicit anticapitalist narrative so...? Yeah, I’m not a big fan of the implications of WTGFs and basira basically just being treated as narratively right in terms of letting the eldritch evil stand-in for capitalism have whatever it wanted and feeding it and doing exactly what it asked them to do. and having Little consequence as a result of that. Obviously they’ll still face loads of hardship, but that comes from the apocalypse, not from, like,.,, doing the direct bidding of the Capitalist Monster/System/etc to be clear, i’m not like...mad they made the “wrong” decision; there was no wrong or right decision here. but I am a little upset that for all they spent 199 discussing the various consequences of each choice, we got to see very little of that actual consequence playing out...none of the survivors seem to really be carrying the guilt or even the full understanding of what they did, because they never saw the suffering they could create as anything more than a hypothetical. i feel like we could have spent just a bit more time with them dealing with that. a bit more time even with jon dealing with that, a bit more time spent on jon changing his mind. other people have said as much better than me but. yeah

- i feel like there was a lot of character stuff brought up in s5 and especially act iii that i would’ve loved to have seen more resolution of. why have that whole thing about Georgie telling jon to give melanie his last words himself, if Jon was going to come back but then never bring that up again (full disclosure this is smthn that @pronouncingitwang​ brought up!)? Why have Jon say he was “going to go  apologize to [his] boyfriend”/Jon tell Martin multiple times that they were going to talk about their fight “later” and then not have that happen on screen? Why did we have two whole episodes of cultist interactions if they were just going to be removed off screen? Why have martin’s “I’ll get jon to destroy me like the others” decision if that doesn’t really come up? what about salesa!! why tell us melanie hating jon is a projection of her self hatred and then not bring that up again? why give annabelle all those juicy interactions with martin and then turn her into a monster when jon shows up, why give her so much character and backstory and then so thoroughly remove her agency? why have all these really cool parallels between jon and annabelle if annabelle is just going to be this monstrous and agency-less plot device with no follow-up? what happened to her!

- on that note...annabelle. They... really took this character who is a Black woman and who had so many parallels to Jon and who they could’ve like. very easily Actually made into a protagonist of color (because we only got one!! and she’s a cop!!!!) (or if not protagonist, at least smthn more sympathetic), (which wouldn’t have negated previous racial problems w tma, but would’ve shown growth from them) and made her a scary monster who just Serves her capitalist entity overlord without personal agency and then bows out when she’s no longer needed...you can have whatever diagetic/watsonian explanations you want for how 197 went, like sure she was just ~being dramatic~ and putting on a show for jon, but all that is still something the writers Decided to do in the real world, and the racial implications of her character arc are just. not great. and her character had So much more narrative potential. idk i will forever be salty about annabelle

- i Still Don’t Like the web being sentient!! i said this after 197 and i’m sayin it again! i think it makes it less frightening and less interesting! with the End being aware of its own, well, end, I actually thought that worked, and i really liked the corpse routes ep, but for some reason I didn’t with the Web? which seems hypocritical of me, I know, but, look: The embodiment of the fear of dying being aware of and welcoming its own dying emphasizes the inevitability and the truth of that fear. Which is why it works for the End. It’s still not recognizably /human/, because it is inexorable and certain, in a way nothing human can be. So its awareness of its own end DOESNT feel like flattening the worldbuilding. And using my own logic, I guess sure you could say the embodiment of the fear of manipulation and schemes being capable of scheming does the same thing but it. It rly doesn’t feel the same to me? Bc that’s rly a fear borne of human sentience & behavior. and so to give it that sentience makes it feel more human, and less interesting within the context of the horror. this is definitely just a personal taste thing as far as how i like horror and eldritch deities and such but yeah.

- i liked the statement a lot like, as a little self contained story? it was really nice to have jon give us one last story before the end. I thought that was sweet and i liked how the statement was written! on the same note though, i could’ve also gone without knowing like. the entire cosmology of how the fears came into being. again, just a personal thing, i don’t like my horror to be known, even at the end of it all when it doesn’t matter what we’re still scared of anymore. I just. I want my fears to be frightening and beyond comprehension and unknowable. it just leads me to have more questions than i really need at the Final episode? i would love to keep the jon giving us one final statement thing, and you know what? i would've loved: statement of the archivist, regarding jonathan sims. no idea what you’d do with that but it sounds cool in my head.

- very minor and very specific-to-me thing but i Don’t Like that basira got to be the Last Words...sorry y’all I just don’t like basira i can’t get behind trying to make me feel sympathetic for a cop who stood by and let people get murdered by the state for years and only felt bad about it bc fearpocalypse i just can’t. i don’t like her never have never will and also melanie and georgie are right there why didn’t they get to have the last words it would have been so much better ... why not have the person who loved jon and Knew very deeply his tendency to self-sacrifice say something or why not the person who is in-canon very similar to Jon and self-admittedly projecting her self hatred onto him say some sort of her own attempt at peace why not either of these two ahhhh

- i uhhhh. really liked jon killing jonah. jon for once getting to be angry for himself. that felt really nice. no ceaseless watcher nonsense either, just him and a knife and beating the shit out of this guy who even now continues to underestimate and belittle him. and i liked jon doing what he did in general -- i actually changed my mind on this; i really didn’t like it at first but i do now. i’m sad that it came at the expense of his promise to martin, but it makes sense and...i don’t want to say jon was right, because i again don’t think any of the decisions were right per se, but in terms of like... not doing what the “elder fear deity who wants to feed on fear and pain for literal eternity” wanted... yeah. i get it. he would never have been able to go along with that willingly. and he really shouldn’t have been, considering all that he went through being a puppet for said elder fear deity. and from a tragedy standpoint too, i actually think it’s a really really well written end for him. considering how my favorite tragedies are structured and how the way out has to be presented to us, but the tragic hero Ultimately will always fall back on their faults, yeah, this makes a lot of sense. hamlet is granted a way out and he doesn’t take it; he always always hesitates. captain ahab is granted the chance to turn and leave his chase and love instead, and he doesn’t take it. orpheus turns around. etc etc. I think it was also really lovely that jon got a twist on that, that in the end he did change, for just a moment, and chose love instead. even in the face of all the horror that that might mean. i really like that he and martin are together, wherever or however they are. that martin is allowed to feel (rightly) furious and betrayed and still so, so unconditionally in love. 

idk i have more thoughts probably but again they’re very hard to parse and mostly just getting into the super specific realm which i don’t think is particularly helpful

i have a lot of feelings for jon and martin and their ending i think it was the best possible ending we could’ve gotten for those two and i Am really. I just have a lot of feelings.

#mag 200 #tma #the magnus archives #jon sims #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #melanie king #basira hussain #annabelle cane #georgie barker #tma crit #the magnus archives crit #tma spoilers #the magnus archives spoilers #quasartalks #yeah i don't know lots of mixed feelings!! #i think for me i'd go about it one of two ways: #first if i'm just redoing 200 to my own taste and not anything else #i think i'd really go for the martin kills jonah and is forced to be killed by jon somehow? or something along those lines #i really wanted a callback to his decision in his own domain #i'd likely still have them die together? idk most of their stuff felt pretty good i'd just spend more time with them AND the girls #but i think if i really had my way i'd go back to 197 #remove the web's sentience and have it be just another desperate guess of a human trying to understand their patron's wants #(which i've talked abt before so i won't rehash here) #annabelle jon team up please let's go #and then ASIDE from that i can have my own completely happy ending au in addition lmao #but i do like me some tragedy #also tbc i don't mean to imply that like. 'things that i would've done differently' and 'things that are bad' are the same thing #they're not! just bc i wouldn't have made a writing decision doesn't mean it is bad. i just wanted to get these thoughts out.

[midnightsconspiracy]

Public Opinion

Public Opinion - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: Being a public defender made you rather unpopular, especially with your new boyfriend's co-workers

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1443

Requested: Yes!!

‘This might be a bit random but I was thinking one for Mouse where the reader is like a successful, powerful lawyer and is secretly dating mouse, but when the team finds out they judge her until they meet her? Sorry if it’s too specific I’m in love with your fics.’

A/N: I am on a creative roll tonight! 4 fics in one night!!! Requests are still open

Masterlist

When you had met Mouse you knew things might be have been a little rocky, considering your jobs were notorious for hating each other, you working as a public defender and him working within the police force. But that had not stopped the both of you from entering a relationship, deciding that it didn’t bother you, both loving what you did and each other, neither wanting to compromise. You had met him at a Rangers reunion, your brother having served alongside Mouse in Afghanistan. You two had instantly hit it off, both keeping each other company, having your original partners blow you off. He had told you of his friend Jay, who he’d originally meant to have gone with, but being abandoned last minutes for his girlfriend instead. That had worked out in both of your favours, allowing you to have the time of your life, talking for hours getting buzzed whilst drinking the free drinks the event offered. After that night you had lost contact for a couple of months before he reached out asking you to go on a date. You were sceptical at first, why was he just reaching out now and not in the three months he’d had your number? But you had said yes anyway, remembering how good you had felt when you were with him.

That evening he had told you how he was meaning to call but had been going through some stuff at work that kept him from doing so. The date had bought back memories of how much you enjoyed spending time with Mouse, eventually leading to more and more dates each month, until finally, you started formally dating. Mouse was not the easiest boyfriend, having problems with his PTSD and anxiety, but that didn’t make him any less loveable in your eyes, in fact, it made him more so. It bought you both closer together, he relied on the fact that you were willing to help him, encouraging him to seek help each time he felt as though he was spiralling out of control. After six months of seeing you, he already felt as though he was a better person, he had started therapy to help deal with his trauma caused by the Rangers, going out to socialise with his friends more and was just generally happier with his daily life. The one thing he didn’t understand though is why you chose to become a public defender. You knew it was his police and military background talking, but it didn’t bother you too much knowing not many people understood why you did what you did, being a public defender, and a good one, was an extremely controversial job. Explaining to him that you liked to help the underdog, he stared at you like you were mad, as you realised he would never understand why. Once you had felt as though you trusted him enough, you decided that you wanted to meet the other important people in his life, his co-workers. You finally wanted to meet the notorious Jay Halstead, the one he had told you so much about on that faithful day. But he had been hesitant when you bought the topic up, knowing how they had reacted when he had told them originally.

The team had noticed a difference in Mouse, being much happier, even being more talkative than usual. They had questioned him extensively, wanting to get to bottom of what or who was causing Mouse to act differently. Whilst at Molly’s, he had decided to reveal all over a couple of beers, informing the team that he had met a girl a couple of months ago, and had only recently become official with her. The team had been happy at first, congratulating him on finding someone, despite his traumatic past and the consequences of that. But things had turned sour when then had pried more on who this mysterious person was. He’d told them that you were a public defender, and they might have known who you were considering you had defended some high profile criminals that they had worked on. That had changed things dramatically, all of them knowing exactly who you were, disliking you over the fact you had gotten off or lessened the sentence of people who had done awful things and they had spent a long time trying to find. Jay's reaction had been the harshest blow to Mouse, being his best friend, he just wanting the man's approval. This recent disapproval of your relationship made Mouse really question what he wanted, you or Jay? Determined that he wanted to keep both of you, he devised a plan, maybe if Jay met you, he would change his opinion on you. So he decided that he would bring you along to when they would next all meet up at the infamous bar.

Mouse had been telling you for the past week that you two were going out on Friday evening to meet his friends, so you were excited, not knowing what had happened with him and his co-workers last time they had drunk there. Getting ready, you put on a nice outfit, waiting for Mouse to be ready so you could finally leave. A few minutes past and Mouse still had not emerged from the bedroom, despite seemingly already being ready as you were getting changed. Walking into the bedroom you found him on the bed, head in his hands, silent and unwavering. Calling his name out, he looked up, giving you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, walking towards you to plant a slight kiss on your forehead. Asking if he was ok, he shrugged it off, giving you a small ‘yes’, proceeding to walk out of the room to grab his keys and wallet. The car ride over was silent, as tension filled the air, a tension that you didn’t understand. Walking into the bar and over to the booth, Mouse introduced you nervously, bringing down your excitement a couple of notches in the process due to his strange disposition. Following your boyfriend, you greeted everyone, noticing all of the grim faces staring back at you. The first to speak up was Jay, introducing himself with an awkward smile, the table falling into silence afterwards. You knew something was off but that didn’t stop you from being your normal, kind self.

“Mouse talks very highly of you all, I especially appreciate all the work you guys do,” you said, trying to create conversation to cut the tension.

“Yeah, sure you do,” Jay sarcastically commented, verbally disagreeing with your line of work

“I know you guys don’t like the work I do, but I have a reason for it, just as you have yours for becoming police officers.” Trying to reason with them was going to be hard, having gone in a totally opposite direction career-wise to them, having a fixed outlook on your job. But you were determined, loving Mouse so much that you would fight as hard as you could to be in their good books.

“It's not the same though, we catch criminals, you release them.” Adam piped up, adding more fuel to the fire of hatred, directed towards you.

“Maybe we should leave,” Mouse said, knowing you were probably extremely uncomfortable with the situation.

“No,” you replied, wanting to stand your ground and explain yourself to these people.

“I do it because no one else is routing for the underdog, they’re thrown into the system and spit out into a life of more crime. I help them have a chance at life, a chance of justice, even if sometimes they don’t deserve it.” Raising your voice, you started getting angry, these people weren’t even giving you a chance, not only hurting yourself but also Mouse in the process.

“Ok.” Jay followed up.

“Plus you should be happy for your friend that he’s happy and found someone that he likes, not hating on me and trying to sabotage this relationship-” you exclaimed, pissed at the fact his friends would do this to him.

“I like you.” Jay butted in. Confusion bounded onto your face at the sudden expression of fondness. Why had they changed their minds so quickly? The conversation continued as normal as if that argument had never even happened, not only chatting as usual but including you in them as well. Little did you know your outburst had changed his mind completely, deciding that maybe you weren’t so bad, that your fiery self would stand up for you and Mouse no matter what, and that was just what he needed. So maybe you were good for Mouse after all.

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[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 20, part three(!)

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

This episode has so much crucially important stuff in it I had to write 3 posts about it! Part one is here, part two is here. 

Don't Start None, Won't Be None

Lan Wangji has never had a real fight with Wei Wuxian before--remember, in their rooftop fight Wei Wuxian never even drew his sword. And since this is going to be a verbal fight, Lan Wangji is going to lose, badly. He's an elegant and articulate speaker, but he's not quick with words, and he speaks directly and sincerely. Weaponized speech is not his area at all, so he's pretty much bringing a knife to a gunfight. A guqin to a flute fight. Whatever. He tries to turn it into a physical confrontation, twice, but Jiang Cheng holds him back.

This throwdown is 100% about religion and orthodoxy; something that is fundamental to both of these young men's lives. Lan Wangji has made it his mission to be as orthodox as possible, doing shit like volunteering to be beaten for drinking when he didn't choose to drink. He's constantly overwhelmed by emotion, and the Lan rules are a source of regulation and safety for him. His emotions around Wei Wuxian are among the most overwhelming he's got, possibly only second to his feelings about his mom.

Right now his feelings are extra overwhelming. 

It's complicated because his relationship with Wei Wuxian literally started off with him punishing Wei Wuxian for heterodoxy. All that time they spent together in the library? Was because Wei Wuxian talked--JUST talked--about using resentful energy for cultivation. Which is precisely the ability he's just shown them, along with a style of killing enemies that's borderline evil and definitely, DEFINITELY unsportsmanlike.

So this is not, Lan Wangji is lovingly worried about Wei Wuxian and Wei Wuxian is pushing him away to avoid an uncomfortable conversation. This is Lan Wangji freaking out because his entire system of belief is being challenged and he's in love with the person who's challenging it.  

Wei Wuxian has shown up to the party wearing an International Mr. Leather tee shirt with a enamel pin stuck to it that says "I get my kicks on route 666" and Lan Wangji just. cannot. deal.  

Never Start a Fight But Always Finish One

Wei Wuxian has a couple of options here. One is to accept, kindly, that he and his friend can't be friends any more because of religion. In this option, in order to preserve his friend's comfortable sense of being right, he would have to tacitly accept that he himself is bad in some way, and allow his friend to keep having his value system, while walking away from him.  

The other choice is to hit so hard that he makes his friend feel really, really bad, and potentially rocks him off of his comfortable foundation. In the short term, the friendship breaks, but if it forces him to actually question his value system, it might lay the groundwork for a new, more accepting friendship.  Anyone who is queer with an anti-queer-religious best friend is probably familiar with this dilemma.

Wei Wuxian chooses the second option, and goes all in from the first moment, calling Lan Wangji "Lan Er Gongzi" and then upgrading to "Hanguang Jun" and even bowing. If it's possible to bow sarcastically, that's what Wei Wuxian is doing. Then he meets his eyes and sticks his chin out, essentially saying "how do you like them apples?"

(more after the cut!)

Lan Wangji's feelings are probably hurt, but he's too busy being mad to show it, and he goes straight to grilling Wei Wuxian, asking him about the killing, the talismans, and giving up the sword, all while Jiang Cheng stands by and wonders what the fuck is happening. 

Lan Wangji is making a fundamental error here, which is he's speaking as if he's an authority instead of as a peer. Wei Wuxian has only ever accepted one authority in his entire life, and that was Jiang Fengmian. Jiang Cheng is the one who, for a change, is approaching as a worried friend, while Lan Wangji approaches as if he has the right to call Wei Wuxian to account.  

Wei Wuxian won't answer his questions and is getting in his face, provoking him in a very quiet and controlled way, and Lan Wangji responds by just being really aggressive. It's interesting to see Wei Wuxian completely mastering his emotions while Lan Wangji is completely....not.  Wei Wuxian pushes harder, saying he's being rude, saying he's being a bad friend.  Which doesn't make any difference to Lan Wanji, who keeps pressing for an answer while Jiang Cheng wonders what the fuck is happening.

Come to Gusu

Wei Wuxian says he already explained, that it's complicated, it will take time to explain, so then Lan Wangji makes the utterly dumbassed demand that Wei Wuxian return to Gusu with him to explain it. What, exactly, is his plan? Bring Wei Wuxian to Gusu and have Lan Xichen (at the very least) and probably also Lan Qiren help him to convince Wei Wuxian that resentful cultivation is bad? How is that likely to work out? Let's have our own flashback, to that classroom interaction that led to the punishment in the library.

Lan Qiren: How will you make sure the resentful energy will only listen to you and not harm others? [Note: he's not wrong, Wei Wuxian] Wei Wuxian: I haven't figured that out yet ["details," as OP's dad used to say] Lan Qiren: If you did, the cultivation world would not allow your existence [i.e. we, the Lan Clan of Gusu, will kill your ass]

Lan Wangji probably doesn't think he's threatening Wei Wuxian with death by inviting him to Gusu, but he kinda is, if Lan Qiren was serious back then.  Lan Wangji is so upset and fearful that he's not really thinking clearly at this point. He loves Wei Wuxian and he's certain that cultivating with resentful energy will destroy him. [Note: he's not wrong, Wei Wuxian]  But Wei Wuxian is beyond fear. He's already been destroyed once.

Wei Wuxian rips on Gusu and then says, in a super-provocative way, that he prefers Yunmeng, which prompts Lan Wangji to say "don't joke around" as angrily as possible. 

This part of the interaction always confuses me because...shouldn't he prefer Yunmeng? He's actually from there and lives there and belongs there and stuff? He's just saying "I think I'll go with my brother" yet WWX and LWJ both act like he said he'd rather go to Demon City.

Lan Wangji takes a big step forward and Jiang Cheng blocks him while Wei Wuxian continues to act unperturbed and puzzled while holding his demon flute out in between them. 

Finally, FINALLY, Wei Wuxian calls him Lan Zhan, and asks him a serious question: What do you really want. Lan Wangji calms down for a second--although he keeps leaning into Jiang Cheng's sword block--and gets to the point, which is that the unorthodox path is dangerous, and harmful to his temperament.  

Kill one turtle together and you think you're the boss of me

So, these dudes are talking about 2 different levels of unacceptable cultivation, in this episode and the next few. Netflix translates these as "wicked tricks" and "crafty tricks," which both sound absolutely ludicrous in English, so I'm going to use my own preferred terms, going forward.  

I think what they are calling "Wicked Tricks," which includes spirit snatching and feeding people to the murder turtle on purpose in order to harvest their resentment could be translated as Heresy--adhering to a forbidden belief or practice; standing in opposition to Orthodoxy.  

Edit: After rewatching Episode 35, in which Nie Huaisang explains why their whole blade thing doesn’t count as “wicked tricks,” I’ve changed my mind about what to call this. NHS says that “wicked tricks” specifically involve the use of humans & human spirits (killing, sacrificing, etc.). Which means Necromancy is probably the better term for this particular type of cultivation, although it is still (also) Heresy. 

"Crafty Tricks," which is using resentful energy to raise and control already-dead people (ghosts and zombies) as well as just generally using resentment for basic stuff like beating Jin Zixuan's ass, could be translated as Heterodoxy--deviating from the accepted belief or practice, but not to the point of complete opposition.

Wei Wuxian laughs while Lan Wangji tries to be convincing, but since Lan Wangji is just repeating what he's been taught, he's not making much headway. Instead of saying "there's no exception throughout history" he could have, instead, gone with his own actual observations, such as "you are acting like a sadistic prick" or "you seem amazingly miserable" or "you aren't hugging your brother, what the fuck is that about?" But no.

Wei Wuxian responds to the charge of heresy by saying nuh-uh, and explains his methods, sort of, while going back to calling him Lan Er Gongzi. Lan Er Gongzi responds by actually literally yelling at him, and saying he's not allowed to decide for himself about what he's doing, as if the words "allowed to" have ever meant a goddamn thing to Wei Wuxian.

Temperament

At this point Wei Wuxian is done. He goes and gets right up in Lan Wangji's face and sticks a metaphorical knife right in his heart, smiling as he does it. "How do others know my temperament?" he asks; "and why should it be their concern?" i.e. you are not in my heart. 

This makes Lan Wangji so mad he calls Wei Wuxian "Wei Wuxian" for possibly the only time in the show, and he also flashes a whole bunch of angry teeth. (Gifset here). In a callback to the JFM-YZY fight back in Lotus Pier before the war, Wei Wuxian just calmly says "Lan Wangji" back at him, and then tells him to go fuck himself.

Jiang Cheng still doesn't understand what the fuck is happening, but this is a sentiment he understands, so he also tells Lan Wangji to go fuck himself, reminding him that Wei Wuxian is Jiang clan property and it's not the Lans' place to discipline him. Adding "and I'm not going to discipline him any way, look how good he is at killing people!"

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji continue to stare into each others' eyes from a distance so close that it really should lead to making out, but they are both much too angry for that. 

Wei Wuxian is as cold as we ever see him, smiling as he silently confirms: I do not belong to you. Lan Wangji glares back, his anger maybe finally giving way, a little bit, to being hurt.

Finish Him!

Wen Chao picks this moment to wake up and crawl over to the trio, begging Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng to save his life, since he presumably knows it's pointless to beg Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian turns around and gives him the EXACT SAME dead-eyed smile he just gave Lan Wangji, and kicks him.

Then he tells Lan Wangji to please leave so he and his brother can finish torturing this dude to death, and caps it with an official Jiang Clan eye roll.  

Lan Wangji, poor bb, just throws in the towel, and turns and leaves, the anger finally starting to leave his face and be replaced with something else...chagrin, maybe? Or maybe just softer anger, for the moment. 

After he's out of sight Wei Wuxian turns and looks after him sadly, all of the cruelty and hardness gone from his expression, while Wen Chao says "forgive me,"  possibly voicing what Wei Wuxian is thinking.

Lan Wangji walks out the front gate, troubled, and hears Wen Chao scream. He stops and replays the most pointed part of the fight in his head - the part where Wei Wuxian asked him, "who do you think you are?" Lan Wangji went into the fight believing he was completely right and was entitled to judge Wei Wuxian, but he's come out of it with his certainty shaken. 

Family Time

The Yunmeng brothers go to the ancestral shrine in Lotus Pier even though the whole "reclaiming Lotus Pier" scene doesn't happen until Episode 24. So apparently they just kind of sneak into the the shrine, and then sneak back out. Or, you know, continuity error.  Anyway Wei Wuxian is nothing if not adept at sneaking around death-related places.

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng bow and offer incense. It's nice that the Wens didn't fuck up everybody's name plaques when they were in control of the place...or the tassels, candles, etc. 

Wei Wuxian quietly tells Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian that he did what they asked--taking care of Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli--and they can rest now. Nosy parker Jiang Cheng wants to know what he's saying, but Wei Wuxian just changes the subject. 

They talk about going to Qinghe for the final combat of the Sunshot Campaign. Wei Wuxian says that's why he returned, which...dude, you can't even pretend you came back to be with your loved ones? Ouch. Jiang Cheng doesn't really react to that, but he's happy when Wei Wuxian says he wants to see Jiang Yanli. Wei Wuxian wants to know if she's ok and if she's mad at him, and Jiang Cheng says wait and see, because direct answers are not the Jiang Clan way.

Jiang Yanli is helping tend to the wounded, and we see her telling a particularly fussy wounded dude to suck it up and stop complaining. 

When Wei Wuxian shows up she totally stops paying attention to the wounded dude so that she can smile at Wei Wuxian. 

He looks back at her tearfully, briefly managing to smile but then just trying to hold it together. He has been to hell and back, and doing his very best to hide it, but when he sees the person who loves him most--the person who will NOT spend 20 minutes yelling at him as soon as they see him--he starts to crack open.

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