#do i write a part three?

[not-equippedforthis]

forever mourning how granada holmes never adapted the three garridebs. diabolical. unbelievable, even. 'if you had killed watson you would not have made it out of this room alive' but in brett's frightfully intense and low, biting, hissing voice. the violent, wild stare versus the gentle hand on watson's knee. all of that precarious control getting flung out the window. the humanity of it. gritting my teeth can you fucking imagine.

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[veinsfullofstars]

“Any more stupid questions?”

Bonus live reactions to being saved from a Dark Matter ambush:

Started 07/13/24, finished 07/27/24, updated for color correction 11/02/24. | Kintsugi AU Masterpost

[s0fter-sin]

pt.2 of my horror au! you can find pt.1 here!

cw mild horror, descriptions of a dead animal (not riley)

to say johnny’s gotten used to the man living in his walls would be the biggest lie he’s ever tried to spin. he doesn’t have a choice but to get used to him

he won’t let johnny leave

he’s always watching him, even if he can’t see him; the walls and ceiling groaning with his weight as he follows him throughout the house during the day, only ever peeking through the vents when the sun’s gone down. if he even gets close to the front door, the vents shake like he’s sprinting towards him and the sheer panic is enough to make him stumble back; his heart pounding in his chest

he was paralysed the first night he saw the man, clutching riley to his chest in the middle of the bed, just waiting for him to come back and do god knows what to them- but the walls were silent

if it weren’t for the lingering damp on his hand and the slight scrape on the side of the vent, johnny could almost convince himself the whole thing was just some twisted waking nightmare

it was only when the sun crept over the horizon that he dared to step off the bed, riley tight in his arms, and held his breath as he escaped out the front door-

only to feel smug eyes on the back of his head when he saw his car tires slashed and random pieces of the motor ripped out and strewn across the yard

the message was clear

johnny can’t leave

the man won’t let him

the next few days passed in a haze of dread. johnny kept waiting for the man to come back, never eating or sleeping except for the snatches his body forced him to take. he can fight but from the glimpse he caught of the man and the weight of the sounds in the walls, the man was big. even if he did knock him out, where could he go? it would take hours of running before he reached another house

he never let riley out of his sight, feeding him in his room after he tipped the wardrobe over in front of the vent. it was only then he realised his phone was missing too

he was utterly trapped; a rabbit with his leg broken, waiting for the jaws to close around him

but the man didn’t come back

johnny’s panic turned into rage. then after another week of nothing turned into confused acceptance and determination

if he can’t leave, he’s not going die in a house with moldy baseboards

“i’m going out the back!” johnny announces loudly in the dining room - the room with the most vents - and almost flinches when he hears the slight reverberations through them. “i’ll come back in when i’m done but i’m not gonna let you stop me from workin’!”

nothing answers him. not a creak or a groan or a scratch. just complete silence

he wishes it didn’t make him feel so much worse

johnny takes a deep breath and wills his hand not to shake as he reaches for the doorknob, wincing at its obnoxious creak, and waits

and waits

nothing

johnny blows out a long breath. “alright, then,” he whispers and looks down at riley waiting obediently at his side. “let’s get to work.”

so he keeps fixing it

he builds new frames for the windows and purposely doesn’t acknowledge the heavy gaze on his back every second he’s outside. he replaces the outlets and pulls out the phone line that looks like it’d been chewed through with teeth far too big to be a rat

definitely too big to belong to the skinned rat he finds in the dumbwaiter after following the smell of gored meat, bled dry and spread out like a gift

a gift offered after a day spent repairing the roof, riley sitting diligently at the base of the ladder. a day he didn’t step a single foot inside

a day he didn’t eat at all

johnny looks at the rat, really looks at it. the skin had been cleanly removed, the meat left undamaged; the guts removed from the abdominal cavity. it’s been perfectly cleaned and dressed like it came from a butcher

from a hunter, prepped and ready for eating

it sends a shiver through him. he swallows and gently shuts the dumbwaiter cover, sending the rat back down to the basement then knocks politely on the wall for good measure. he then takes a bunch of fillings from the fridge, some bread and a cutting board, turns off the light and sits in front of the nearest vent

and waits

his breath is so loud, his instincts screaming at him not to have him back to the room. but he knows the only threat in this house will come from directly in front of him

johnny flinches at a distant thud and an immediate scratching starts, starting in the basement and barreling straight towards him

he’s angry

he swears he can hear his heart racing in his chest as the vent in front of him thunks, something heavy and fast weighting it down- then everything abruptly falls silent

he can’t see him

but he knows he’s there

he’s always there

johnny swallows again and lays out the two pieces of bread on the board, the moonlight coming through the window the only illumination he has. the vent remains silent as he layers on deli ham and a few slices of cheese, finishing off with a couple pickles and mayo

he closes the sandwich up and, eyes flicking to the shadows in the vent, picks it up and takes a bite

he chews slowly and lets out a deliberate hum before he takes another bite, dragging it out like it’s the best damn sandwich he’s ever eaten

johnny swallows his last mouthful, sucks a drop of may off his thumb and braces himself. he stands up and turns his back on the vent. he putters around, puts the food away and fills a glass of water and at some point while he’s washing off the cutting board, the vent lightly groans as the man slowly climbs away

he shivers and wonders how crazy it makes him that the rattle almost sounds thoughtful

💀🧼

there’s a sandwich on the floor

johnny’s still trying to catch his breath after hauling all the old moldy baseboards outside, frozen in the action of wiping sweat off his forehead

the bread’s torn, ham and cheese and pickles clumsily and excessively thrown on with sauce dripping out the sides

but it’s a sandwich, sitting on top of his cutting board

johnny tugs off his gloves and slowly walks up to it. the walls are silent. but that doesn’t mean the man isn’t watching

he picks up the cutting board and a voice in the back of his head screams at him as he brings it in front of the kitchen vent and sits just like he did the other day when he made his own sandwich. he hides a preemptive grimace and picks it up-

but it’s not soggy

despite the amount of sauce piled on it and the juice from the near fistful of pickles, the bread is still soft

fresh

you waited for me, johnny realises and something in his chest catches. you waited until i was done and made sure it would be ready for me.

johnny blinks a few times and bites into the sandwich

he can’t remember the last time someone had a meal waiting for him

his ex certainly never did; he always had to be poked and prodded into cooking, never wanted to eat anything they already had or waste time making something when they could just order in. even in other relationships, sure they would ask if he was hungry or make an extra portion when he wasn’t home so he’d have leftovers

but no one’s ever cooked something just for him. just because they wanted to

johnny thickly swallows the last bite

and doesn’t flinch when he looks into the vent and sees the shine of eyes looking back at him

“thank you,” he whispers

the eyes twitch back, almost like the man flinched, then they cock to the side and sink down into the very edges of the darkness, blending into the shadows like a ghost

but he doesn’t leave

and neither does johnny until riley pokes him with his nose, looking for his own dinner

[variousqueerthings]

reading a book rn called "the other olympians" and lemme tell you, i knew that women's sport was segregated because of misogyny and i knew there was always a fear of women being "too masculine" by participating in sports and that this was wrapped up in intersexism and racism but. the extent. to which this was embedded from the olympics earliest days (that is, utterly and completely).

trust that the issue has never been and never will be a trans woman who's good at swimming, or shotput, or running, or anything else, she's a handy dandy scapegoat. it's always been about diminishing women's capabilities and access by denying women who are too good at sport the right to be a woman in the first place. because a woman who is too good at anything has lost the right to be a woman. and by that i mean she's lost the right to be a human being.

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

three ways to piss off each seventeen member 🤷 :

hyung line I maknae line

(apply them at your own risk hehe)

scoups:

absently nod while he is still talking and then go all, "sorry, did you say something?"

cut him off while he is still speaking by saying he is wrong.

admire his watch and then ask him if he got a great deal for it at the thrift store.

jeonghan:

nag him to talk about his feelings all the time.

'accidently' pay attention to everyone except for him.

be a very very loud karen while he is with you.

joshua:

intentionally picking a fight in group settings in front of him.

throw trash into the trash can but miss it by a centimeter.

nitpick continuously while he is cooking.

jun:

always give him a side-eye when he tries to be silly.

never 'notice' his acts of service and then complain that he doesn't show you that he cares.

say 'why are you being so emotional' when he tries to talk about his feelings.

hoshi:

put the bare minimum effort when he is trying to teach you a dance move

be a 'well actually' type of mansplainer and create an awkward atmosphere.

dampen his mood when he is excited about something.

wonwoo:

touch his things without permission.

force him to go out every night.

insist that ramen is unhealthy and not let him have any. pick a fight about it if you have to.

woozi:

mess with his google calendar.

force him to be late to his next appointment by 10 minutes.

fidget next to him all the time.

[parvuls]

no, because - famous person starts dating less famous person and is then gradually overshadowed is a trope. a trope often used to bring external conflict into stories. but jack and bitty are carefully constructed as the opposite of that, and I'm fucking feral over it.

we joke about how jack will eventually be bitty's trophy husband and be thrilled about it, but it definitely has a giant grain of truth in it. it's how they're characterized. bitty is an extrovert; jack is an introvert. bitty reached out and built himself an online audience to deal with his trauma; jack shut himself out and started avoiding the public to deal with his.

bitty finds comfort in being able to talk to others and (as seen in spotlight on eric bittle) considers being a public figure a sort of healing experience: coming out and being a public person (in every manner of speaking, not just sexuality wise) and putting himself in the limelight is such an important part of his journey because he sees it as a way of helping others who were in his situation.

jack grew up in the spotlight as the only son of two prominent figures. he grew up as a child with anxiety with the media's eyes on him as he was compared to his father. he grew up as an overweight teen featuring in trashy gossip columns as he was compared to his mother. he got into rehab in part because of this attention and it only attracted more attention to him. a lot of jack's anxiety stems from the notion of people looking at him and thinking about him and talking about him and judging him, and it's unfortunate because jack's dream is to play hockey, and that comes with even more attention.

but that's the thing: jack and bitty's story is (once again) a demonstration of two people making each other's lives better.

jack's fame thrusts bitty into the spotlight post-cup, and it's a giant push forward in helping him reach a bigger audience and thus grow his independent fame. bitty's growing fame slowly overshadows jack, to the point where ngozi says they'll one day be Eric Bittle and his Athlete Husband. and that means jack gets to play hockey, and win cups, and achieve fame in his own field, but the media's attention slides off him to his husband, and the fans on the street gradually approach bitty more than him, and jack is free to have his success with less of the personal scrutiny.

it's not that jack becomes less important than bitty. it's that bitty gets to stand in front of the direct sun and flourish as a result, while jack gets to stand in the shade bitty creates and flourish as a result. it's symbiosis. it's beautiful.

[hahahafangirl]

well i am in the middle of writing two suo essays at once (i ahve porblems) but i must announce to the townsquare now that its interesting that suo is the one explaining to sakura how to fight as a team/the crux is to take notice of your surrounding and other people. which fits suo's characterization and narrative role, of course, but i cant help but think that as a disabled fighter, particularly by being limited in vision, of course suo would be the one to know best the importance of having a strong grasp on your surrounding, of both your team and opponents. of course he would know how to fight in tandem. my meowmeow..

[loz-chainsofcorruption]

"It was supposed to be me." Hot, angry tears rolled down Zelda's cheeks as she stared at the ground between them.

Though he couldn't yet bring himself to look at her face, Link fought past the burning ache in his chest to keep his voice level as he replied, "We decided it would be better if it were me. What if you couldn't use your power against yourself afterwards?"

"Why didn't you tell me?!" she cried. 

He glanced her way long enough to see her eyes, hurting, pleading, staring at him. He looked away again, hugging his arms. His fingers felt cold. Every part of him felt cold.

"Because you would try to stop me."

Unable to refute his words, she didn't reply for a moment. Instead, her gaze dropped to her hands. Weapons. Weapons she'd have to… Zelda shook her head. "I- I can't do this to you, Link.”

Link finally looked at her, determination in his gaze. "You know we don't have a choice, Zelda. I can't contain him within me much longer. You must do this."

Already, he felt shaky. Weaker. It was only a matter of time before the evil would force it's way back out, probably killing Link in the process, and dooming Hyrule.

Zelda’s fists clenched. "But splitting you into fragments like this- you'll lose yourself, Link! You'll be changed forever!"

Willing his body to stand straighter, to lift his head, he replied, "And if that's what it takes to save Hyrule, so be it."

"Then let me do it,” the princess insisted, pressing a hand to her chest.

"No. I told you, it's too risky. Besides…” Link paused, posture sinking a little again. “This kingdom needs its princess more than it needs a random boy."

Zelda took several steps closer, then stopped. Her voice wobbled as her fingers rose towards him, then dropped. "But I need the boy. I need you, Link."

"No, Zelda.” He closed the final distance, taking her hands in his, searching her gaze. “You were fine before you knew me. You'll be alright without me."

Their gazes stayed locked, one firm and the other’s pleading slowly shifting to sorrowful resignation, until a pang in Link's chest had him sucking in a small breath of pain and pulling away.

He reached back for the Master Sword. Link ran his fingers gently over the hilt and down the sheath, then pressed the beloved sword to his forehead.

"Take care of her,” he murmured before holding the sword out for the princess to take. He stepped away again, backing up a good distance and steeling himself, pressing shaking fingers into his legs. "I'm ready."

"...I'm sorry,” Zelda whispered.

"Don't be. I'll see you on the other side." He dug deep, past the fuzziness in his mind and the muck in his veins, and pulled out his best grin and a mock salute.

Zelda gave him a watery smile in turn, then lifted her hands, a glow starting to surround them.

He closed his eyes and braced himself.

It struck like a thousand hornets.

He didn't want to scream. Didn't want to make this harder on Zelda than it already was, but a raw cry of pain tore itself from his throat unbidden. He felt as though he were being ripped apart in every direction, stretched paper thin across time and space. White hot pain seemed to consume him, eating up his limbs, climbing into his head and clawing his brain to pieces. This is for Hyrule, he told himself as another gutteral sound he could barely recognize as his own rolled out of his throat. For Zelda. Like a mantra, he tried to focus on that thought. For Hyrule. For Zelda. For Hy... rule... For... For... Who? Where? For… 

Blankness swallowed him whole.

Zelda watched in horror as Link gripped at his head, crying out in agony. The air around him rippled and twisted, hissing and shifting. Link himself seemed to flicker, copies of his appearance stretching across the air, colors and shapes jumping.

Then light consumed him and Zelda shielded her face. 

When it began to fade, she slowly lowered her hands.

"...Link?"

Blinking spots from her vision, she watched as the last of the light faded, revealing…

She stared at the boy before her, so very different than the one she knew.

“Link?” she repeated softly, timidly.

Hopefully.

The boy stared blankly at her. With a voice as unfeeling as his gaze, he said "... Not Link,” then turned and ran. 

[harocat]

Shoutout to Cdramas* written by women, we love you Cdramas written by women.

*And one Taiwanese drama.

What are your faves that aren't on here? Let me know so I can watch them. 👀

[laauranenn]

A whole three four (4) people have said they'd like for me to talk about Nirei, so here we go!!

Starting off with how he's first introduced! He falls face first on the floor. (Which I love him for, he's the guy ever.)

He's introduced as this really goofy, dorky guy. He still has the tags on his uniform, falls again trying to get them off, and asks Sakura if his looks are caused by stress.

He then proceeds to run into the doorframe as he's leaving, and trips as soon as he's outside of Pothos.

This all paired with how he talks about Bofurin makes Sakura disregard him as someone who's all bark and no bite, as someone who'll run soon as a fight breaks out, which Kotoha then argues against with her coffee bean metaphor about not judging people so quick.

(It's honestly a little crazy how this was Sakura's first impression of Nirei, considering how close they've grown throughout the manga! )

Nirei, however, proves this wrong immediately. He saves a girl from a bunch of guys that are harassing her, and he doesn't back down. Even when running away would probably be the wisest decision with his complete lack of fighting ability or self defence skills.

He clings on to the guy, continuing to get back up despite getting thrown across the pavement multiple times. His perseverance is something that Sakura quietly acknowledges as well!

Something we also get introduced to very early are Nirei's reasons for joining Furin (and Bofurin by extension) as well as his backstory!

Nirei is someone who's been mistreated in the past. He describes being beat up and used as an errand boy, talks about how he had no choice but to obey them, until someone from Furin stepped in and saved him. This sets up his reasons for joining Furin, as he wants to help others like how that student helped him back then.

This is also where we first get to see Nirei's insecurity. Despite his determination to help others, he unfortunately lacks any fighting experience or skill. This is something that plays a role in his insecurities and his low self-esteem.

Because Nirei is insecure. Or at least not as confident in himself as he could be. When Sakura saves him from the guys, Nirei is the first one to criticize himself before Sakura can even say anything. He thanks Sakura and immediately follows it up with how much of a disappointment it must be to have someone like him in Furin.

Nirei also downplays his usefulness and skills multiple times throughout the series.

He memorizes the names and faces of the entire school in what's implied to be a single night.

"I borrowed the school list yesterday."

He doesn't downplay it too much, just a little when Suo praises him for it. He does something similar after the fight with KEEL, where he doesn't seem to think him calling for backup was anything special at all.

It's not something that shows up a lot, nor is it something big. It's just him lacking the confidence to take credit for what he's done.

I think it's worth mentioning though, as I think him memorizing the names and faces of the entire school is incredibly impressive.

As soon as Nirei gets himself together after Sakura saves him, we get introduced to his notebook! A small notebook that he collects data of "the guys he finds cool" in. He asks Sakura questions about himself, such as his height, weight, blood type and birthday. He also seems to have data on specific fights people have been in.

His notebook, as well as his lack of fighting ability, set him up as something similar to your typical mission control, or "the guy in the chair" sort of role, as well as the coward. Though he lacks the tech genius typical of the former and is more geared towards providing Sakura and the others with relevant information on the opponent.

But what makes his growth so satisfying, that sets him apart from other similar characters, is his strive to become stronger and help others.

Something I find so satisfying about Nirei's development is him being the one to drive it. He's the one to seek training, to strive to be better.

He's never told to stay behind despite someone needing to protect him, never cast out for it. The others, especially Suo, are entirely willing to take on the workload of protecting him. The only person to say anything about it is Tone Hansuke when fighting Suo.

Nirei is also willing to put himself at risk in order to help someone else out. We see this in almost all the major fights. First when we meet him, again when against KEEL, when he takes over for Suo on the bridge, as well as when he volunteers to take on Endo at the school.

(Honorable mention for him attempting to stop Shizuka from giving herself up)

This all paired with his role as Sakura's vice captain, as well as his promise to help Sakura to the top, eventually lead him to ask Suo to teach him to fight. Not because someone told him to, but because he himself wanted to.

And the training has seriously paid off! I have to bring up the bridge again, just because of how significant that fight is for him! Because not only does Nirei manage to cover for Suo while he's busy fighting with Obiki Kaito, but he also throws his first real punch!!

Sure, it's not a good punch, barely does anything. But that doesn't matter, because just the act of him throwing that punch is so significant!

And that brings us to where we are in the manga right now! He hasn't really been in a fight since Endo, and is instead helping Sugishita out!

I've officially run out of things to talk about, but I'd be happy to talk more about specific arcs or moments for him if someone wants to!! I'm desperate to talk about Wind Breaker at this point!!!

[phantombegruvia]

SFTH MURDER MYSTERY - PART 3 [JOHN JACOB POV]

part 2 << part 3 >> part 4 MASTERPOST

*CW for talk of death and child death, and talk of potential vomit

[WAYNE MANOR LOBBY - 17:01]

John Jacob couldn't control his breathing. He had just watched a child die, for fuck’s sake. The death itself was horrific too, John had to shuffle backwards slightly to avoid the wee child's blood from getting on his shoes.

Ethel stepped forward, through the sticky blood, and poked at the boy's face, “wakey wakey! You said you were going to perform for us! Well, come on!” She carried on to prod.

“He's dead, Ethel,” Rumpled informed her.

“Oh, is he? I hadn't realised,” she responded, with no hint of sarcasm, “that doesn't mean he can't perform.” She leaned into his ear, “WAKE UP!”

“I did think she was insane,” Tracy says, “but now I realise she's insane insane, and I've gotta respect it.”

John was too busy trying to not throw up to care for what they were saying. He barely registered being dragged to the next room.

[WAYNE MANOR DRAWING ROOM - 17:03]

He was unceremoniously plonked onto one of the many sofas in the huge room. Derek was placed next to him, also in the exact state as he was; pale and shivering, eyes glossed over.

“The three residents of the manor are dead,” Margaery began, “two died the same day ten days ago, and one just now. The kid didn't even know that the others had died.”

“But how? I mean, Wayne was the kid's adopted father, how did he not notice?” Tarquin questioned.

“He said something about Wayne disappearing often,” Rumpled recalled, “why would he need to do that?”

“Why would Batman feel the need to kill the man who helps the people of Glasgow with his money and power?” Margaery contemplated.

“Unless this ‘Batman’ didn't kill him,” Juliet shrugged, “and it was a setup?”

There were a few hums of contemplation.

Suddenly Esmeralda perked up, “the butler!”

“You think the butler killed Wayne?” Amanda asked, “that's quite.. cliché.”

“No, I don't,” Esmeralda began, “the tea, it was half drunk.”

Tracy perked an eyebrow up, “What's that got to do with anything?”

“He was drinking it, when he died, what if he didn't suffer from a sudden heart attack? What if he was poisoned?”

“Which would mean that he was murdered too,” Rumpled caught on quickly, “two of the three were killed.”

All this talk of murder made John rather queasy, and he had no idea why. He's seen death before, he's caused death before, so why was this different?

“Too much of a coincidence-” Margaery started.

“No such thing!” Ethel interrupted, “coincidences don't exist, it's just a silly word that people came up with to explain things.”

“The boy was murdered too, then,” Margaery gave Ethel a deathly glare, “but.. how? How could somebody have even-”

Brriiingg

The sudden noise made the entire group freeze.

Brriiingg

There was a telephone on a small table in the corner of the room.

Brriiingg

Whoever is ringing may have answers.

Brriiingg

But the question is, who dares answer?

The answer with the most votes will be the one to answer. The answer could have effects on the overall story.

*HINT: the person on the other end of the phone may have important answers - who is the best person to pry those answers out?

[haveihitanerve]

When We Were Young

This was stupid. So stupid. Barbara couldn't believe she’d let Bruce convince her to join him at one of his Galas.

“I miss seeing you!” He’d pouted, complete with arms crossed, and puppy dog eyes. Unfortunately for her, Bruce’s puppy dog eyes were very good. And maybe she was just soft for him. He’d always managed to slip through her cracks without even meaning to. Much like his son.

Barbara scowled at her mental self, shoving the thoughts away. She was here for Bruce. And as much as she despised these events, he made them better. He would be worth it.

“Barbara,” A familiar voice purred, and Barbara couldn't help her smile, turning to look up at the man of the hour.

“Bruce.” She returned. He dipped low, grasping her hand delicately in his own, pressing the barest whisper of a kiss to the top.

“You look lovely.” He murmured, and there was a sparkle in his eyes that she had missed. That was maybe the reason she had said yes.

She laughed, dragging her hand from his, and rolled her eyes. It was good. Familiar. Simple. She liked life with Bruce like that. Life was simple with Bruce like that. Despite his… issues, Barbara had never found it hard understanding him. Maybe that was why they got along so well. Maybe that was why they didn't.

“I should make the rounds..” Bruce muttered with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Thank you for coming Babs. Truly. If you like, you can sneak out the back during my speech. I won’t mind.” And he wouldn’t. Babs knew that. It was why she smiled, nudging his side with her elbow.

“I’ll be here the whole night Brucie, don’t you worry about that. You’ll be sick of me!” His eyes flashed with gratitude and he stooped low, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Now I face the wolves!” He grinned, offering her a wink. “Wish me luck.”

“Luck-” The word died in her throat as Bruce descended the stairs, arms wide for the people who swarmed him, not yet having noticed the man who stood on the other side of the room, surveying the crowd.

No one had noticed him yet, and he hadn’t yet put his mask on because of it. Eyes tight, shoulders tense, he watched the people swarm his father, black hair styled away from his face in immaculate perfection, the way he hated, a suit pressed tightly around his body, accentuating every curve. Babs tongue turned leaden in her mouth.

Bruce finally noticed the newcomer, and his face lit up with joy, pushing through the crowd to greet him. Even from so far away, Barbara could hear the pure elation in his voice as he yelled “Dick!” so loud she was certain Joker heard it from Arkham.

The cameras and people immediately swarmed forward, and Dick’s mask fell into place, an easy smile crossing his face as people reached him before his father, offering pleasantries and mild conversation. Bruce pushed through the crowd, clapping his son on the back, and for a second Dick’s mask seemed to peel, a centimeter of true, raw happiness emerging as his father wrapped him in a hug, hand moving to tousle his hair into that achingly familiar smile.

Dick joked something Barbara couldn't lip read from so far, and Bruce laughed, wrapping an easy arm around his shoulders. Something heavy and sharp stabbed at Babs insides.

He… Bruce had known Dick was coming. And he hadn't told her. Hadn’t- had practically forced her to come.

Sharp, stinging betrayal prickled at Barbara's eyes, but she blinked them back, swallowing the lump in her throat with her last gulp of champagne. It was stupid to believe he’d have her back against his son. Stupid to think she even compared.

Dick’s eyes traced the crowd, chatting aimlessly with some girl in front of him, eyes darting around as they always did, seeking a friendly face, some pleasant conversation, an exit strategy. He would find none of them with her.

He smiled then, that all consuming smile that seemed to illuminate the entire world before focusing on one person, making them feel like they were the most important person in the whole world. She hadn’t felt it in years.

Babs spun on her wheels and left. 

Pt 2

[catmask]

do u think youll do artfight this year? :3 i remember u decided not to last year but just wondering

ive been thinking about this - because sadly no i will probably not join this year either....

last time i did artfight was back in 2022, and i had 1/4 of the following i have today. even then, i got so many attacks (i think 240...? in a month) that i wasnt able to possibly attack everyone back. though i did try (i drew like almost every single day of the month, sometimes two pieces a day!!)

i had a lot of fun doing it the two years i did, but unfortunately, that year kind of spoiled the fun for me... there were people that started getting really upset i wasnt attacking them back, i just think i realized i got to the point where i couldnt play the game the same way i liked to.

so, i think in the future if i ever joined artfight, i woud probably have to make an alt account to do so, and just attack people whos characters i like (which is how i like doing artfight best!)

im not upset at anyone either, i understand artfight is all ages so imagine some of the people getting upset were probably just younger artists who wanted my attention.. but getting inbox asks why i wasnt attacking people back enough was really starting to stress me out ;_; i am sorry to disappoint if that wasnt the answer u were looking for though...!

[acid-waste]

I'm so mad actually I can't believe some people took this scene in chapter 3 and turned it into a who's right about their grief when the scene in chapter 4 literally has ivypool saying I don't mean to make it all about me- haven't thought much about how dovewing is handling her own grief- people read chapter 3 and to me it seems as if chapter 4 doesn't even exist and the rest of what ivypool says in chapter three after saying this doesn't as well

“Dovewing, I’m truly sorry that Rowankit died. But losing a sickly kit—a kit you’ll be reunited with in StarClan one day—is different from losing a full-grown cat who was just coming into her own as a warrior. A cat who doesn’t exist anywhere—who is just gone.”

ignored this and what was said and called it a day

[withthewindinherfootsteps]

Wei Wuxian and Narrative Agency – Part One

For Xiantober Day One: Genius… albeit stretching the prompt so it refers to MXTX and MDZS itself, but at the end of the day it’s still about WWX – so no harm done!

(Part Two | Part Three | Full version on AO3)

The narrative is a very active player in MDZS’ story. How it presents information, what it chooses to show and omit, often reflects important facets of its themes and characters – Nie Huaisang, for instance, is so good at hiding behind his mask that not even the narrative can hold him accountable; the present day’s storyline as a murder mystery and the slow reveal of information about the past both prompt the reader to think critically about the truth of events, when the importance of thinking critically is an important theme; and the dangers not thinking critically (and instead basing conclusions on rumours without much evidence) are shown by tricking unquestioning readers into the very same trap the cultivation world falls into, as the information given by the title, summary and in-universe rumours – which contradicts how we see actually Wei Wuxian act – turns out to be false.

But nowhere do I love this trait more than in its treatment of Wei Wuxian – and, more specifically, in its way of emphasising his agency. We’re not just told how much his active choices define his character, and we’re not just shown this in-universe through his personality, worldview and the events he causes. I’d argue that this aspect goes a step further, and shapes the structure of the out-of-universe narrative as well.

There are two main ways this happens: one, in how the aspects of Wei Wuxian’s life that are shown and hidden directly tell us what’s important about his character (which is good writing but isn’t necessarily tied to this shaping of the narrative), which is what we’ll explore today; and two, how what’s shown and hidden reflects what Wei Wuxian himself prefers to dwell on, resulting in the narrative respecting his own thoughts and feelings on matters (which very much is tied to it). We’ll explore this at a later date.

But as for now – let’s explore my favourite aspect of MDZS.

(Here, narrative agency will be considered the ability of a character to meaningfully influence their events and the story they’re in.)

Tragedy, Circumstance, Choice

If we simply look at Wei Wuxian’s backstory in a vacuum, it seems almost typically tragic. His  parents died in circumstances beyond his control, he was left alone as a child with nobody to care for him, he was forced to grow up fending for himself on the streets, he was faced with abuse when he finally was taken in… as with all typical woobies, everything simply happened to him, and none of it was good. It’s just another example of the lack of agency being used for sympathy points, right?

…Except there’s one problem with that idea. We don’t actually see any of this.

It would’ve been easy to start the flashbacks during these times. We’re telling the story of Wei Wuxian in (largely) chronological order, and these are likely important experiences for him! But instead of starting in his street days, or evenat the moment Jiang Fengmian took him in*, we start at the lectures in the Cloud Recesses. That’s not even something mentioned in, and therefore something that’s able to disprove, the rumours at the start of the novel. So why is this the case? 

Well, there are multiple reasons – the main one being that MDZS is also Lan Wangji’s (and Wangxian’s) story, and having the flashbacks open with their first meeting is very satisfying. But I want to focus on something else.

This period doesn’t have to be shown, because what happens to Wei Wuxian, especially out of his control, isn’t what’s important about his character.

We’re not even at Lotus Pier here, where Wei Wuxian certainly has more agency than he would’ve had as a young child, but where the harm caused by Madame Yu is still completely out of his control. Here, he has agency! Though there are consequences, he is free to act, and what happens to him is a result of those actions and not of circumstance. Yes, he gets punished more than others who also take those same actions (due to classism); yes, it’s not his choice to be picked on by Lan Qiren in class (yet look how he responds, twisting the situation to his advantage and ending up tricking Lan Qiren into letting him leave, which is what he wanted to do. He is not at all helpless here!); yes, these choices have been influenced by his learned mindset from Madame Yu that punishment is arbitrary and will happen anyway, so you may as well do what you want regardless. But there is cause-and-effect here. It’s not circumstantial tragedy.

Therefore, instead of our first impression of past!Wei Wuxian being that of an unfortunate woobie, it’s of someone who has the freedom, ability and will to choose and act (and that’s after these initial tragic events have taken place). This is compounded by the fact that before we see any of his backstory, we get a similar impression of him in the present day.

If the purpose of his tragic past was to earn him sympathy points, to make us pity him due to how much he was influenced by events out of his control, this would’ve been a terrible way of going about it… and it’s this that betrays the true reason for its existence. Because now, the flashbacks instead show us how little these tragedies define who he is! From the very start, Wei Wuxian isn’t someone defined by circumstances out of his control, but rather by who he is as a person and by what choices he makes in the present day (which is both a mindset in-universe, and a nice little out-of-universe detail that lines up! Because out-of-universe, this means he’s not defined by sympathy points from a backstory, but rather by his great character writing… aka, by who he is as a person and what choices he makes). And this refusal to be defined by tragedy is a conscious choice on his part, too – but we’ll explore that more later. 

The important thing is that this idea of Wei Wuxian isn’t because of what exists in his past, it’s because of what parts of his past are shown to us (as well as what he chooses to do, with agency, in the present). 

Now, if this relationship between what’s displayed and what’s omitted was just a one-time thing, I might’ve considered it a cool detail or a nice way to establish a character, but not something the narrative is actively focusing on. But it’s a pattern that continues throughout the flashbacks. What, arguably, are the two other most important times in Wei Wuxian’s life where he doesn’t have enough agency to meaningfully influence his circumstances? His three months in the Burial Mounds (before escaping – he managed to assume some control of the circumstances but not enough to substantially reduce his suffering in his time there), and his loss and death during the First Siege. And we’re not shown either of them! We skip to when Wei Wuxian has emerged from the Burial Mounds and is torturing the Wens, or we skip to the present day – both times he has agency once more, because, again, what he’s like without it doesn’t matter enough to be shown. 

Furthermore, I’d argue this does actually contrast the other tragic events we see in Wei Wuxian’s later life. Things do go horribly wrong, but it’s either due to choices he knows the consequences of (see: rescuing the Wen Remnants in the first place), or instances where he still has some ability to act in the situation and influence it within the limitations. If he’d had no ability to influence circumstances at Qiongqi path, he would have died in the ambush; if he’d been unable to do that at Nightless City, he would’ve died then, too (of course Lan Wangji helped him escape as well). The attention drawn to him losing control of his actions in both instances is very interesting, but intentional or not, it’s still his actions influencing the plot. And that influence happens to be detrimental. The very ability to act and influence, at a base level,  is not taken away (though, of course, that doesn’t make these events any less tragic).

So, so far, the narrative seems to be telling us that the ability to act and choose is key to Wei Wuxian’s character. And it’s doing it through omitting his moments without agency in favour of instead showing us his moments with it. 

Let’s see if this is echoed in the text itself before we go further – because even with this pattern, nothing would end up mattering if Wei Wuxian’s agency wasn’t actually that important to the story itself. But thankfully it is, and that first impression we get of Wei Wuxian in the Cloud Recesses turns out to very much be accurate! Though there are defining circumstances out of his control that occur, such as the massacre of Lotus Pier, the majority of the important events of his life are due to his own choices. He didn’t happen to be forced to cease traditional cultivation and solely use guidao, didn’t happen to lose his Golden Core in a fight with Wen Zhuliu or due to some force in the Burial Mounds, it was his own choice to give it and his spiritual powers away. He didn’t tragically happen to get targeted by the cultivation world, it was a result of him acting on his morals and protecting the Wen remnants (a choice which he was fully aware of the implications of). He isn’t a protagonist to whom things simply occur, and that activeness and agency is my favourite thing about him. 

That’s not to say that the times Wei Wuxian doesn’t have agency, or feels like he doesn’t have any, don’t exist at all, either – but they are rare enough to have attention directly drawn to them in his internal narration:

Or else what could he do? He could do nothing. He was powerless. Lotus Pier had been destroyed, both Jiang FengMian and Madam Yu were gone, and Jiang Cheng had disappeared as well. He was the only one left, alone, with not even a sword in his hands. He didn’t know anything, he couldn’t do anything! For the first time, he discovered how little his power was. In front of something as large as the QishanWen Sect, it was the same as a mantis trying to stop a chariot. - Chapter 59, EXR translation

(And even in this circumstance, note that he still does force himself to act – to carry on searching for Jiang Cheng, to place his faith in Wen Ning – and does accomplish his goal (albeit with the help of others)! So even in dire situations, he isn’t simply passive. This is actually also the case with his time in the Burial Mounds, almost certainly the First Siege, and even his days on the streets as well (Chapter 20: he did actively fight with dogs to get food despite their danger and his growing fear of them, rather than just waiting and hoping to somehow receive some more). He can’t influence or immediately influence his circumstances, but that doesn’t stop him from trying.)

Overall, although they do influence him, Wei Wuxian is very much who he is in spite of his circumstances, not because of them. We’re shown the importance of his agency both in-universe by the major impacts his choices have on himself and the plot, as well as by narrative presentation – important periods where he lacks the ability to meaningfully influence anything are often mentioned but not directly shown, which suggests that such moments and circumstances aren’t as important to understanding Wei Wuxian’s character as moments where he does have this agency are. And I’d argue this works very well. Depending on the version of the story you consume, you may end up having different interpretations as to how much circumstances were at play nearer the end of his life – but nobody comes out of MDZS thinking about Wei Wuxian, the poor bearer of yet another generically tragic backstory.

(Part Two | Part Three | Full version on AO3)

—

*We are shown this moment in more detail in Chapter 23… but even then, it’s through the framing of Wei Wuxian remembering Jiang Yanli’s narration, not through a flashback proper or even him remembering the experience itself!