#to just merge the parallel lines or whatever

[psychopomp-namine]

hmmmmmmm okay. I'll think about the last episode a bit more. I currently don't how I feel about what happened. it's. hmmm. unsurprisingly, more questions raised than answered

also, the timelines man. they're fucking up the timelines. I have to rethink how this ties to S1/S2 because way too many details don't line up. but I'm gonna guess now that we're not in S1/S2 timeline anymore, actually. we're in the timeline that was created after lu guang's S2 dive in the finale.

so is yingdu actually post-S1/S2? I'll try to logic this out in the weekend probably

I will say that I am very intrigued by wang qing's role in all of this and I'm glad she exists. link click doesn't always have a good track record with female characters but when they don't kill them off they are intriguing in their own right (qiao ling, wang qing, and even xu shanshan I really enjoyed. noodle soup ladies and anime con girl as well).

[korraofthereef]

SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE AN EDIT OF TIMEBOMB TO “Not a lot, just forever” by Adrianne Lenker AND ILL LITERALLY GIVE YOU THE EXACT WAY TO EDIT IT I DON’F EVEN NEED CREDITS I JUST WANNA SEE IT

Not a lot, just forever

honestly this part is optional but I feel like the audio is too much of a kickstart to start with the line below

And your dearest fantasy

stick with me on this. So it’ll be Ekko heaving and conflicted in this scene:

For the entire duration of the lyrics until it’ll transition into the next set of lyrics where… (continue reading under the next lyric)

Is to grow a baby in me

it’ll tradition to Jinx’s face in that scene also for the entire duration of this set of lyrics:

Then slowly fading into the next scene of… (continue reading under the next lyric)

I could be // a good mother

(For the “I could be” part)

Isha running towards Jinx when Vi is abt to kill her (!)

(Now for the “a good mother” part)

Jinx holding onto/trying to push away Isha when held under Vi’s fist.

So the faces are like a parallel of scenes. I would have really liked for the clip shown directly above of Jinx holding Isha to come right after the scene of Jinx on the ground after fight Ekko because then the parallels would’ve matched better but the edit needed more clip transitions and more clarification so it’s kind of a must with this order. So if y’all could maybe make it very clear it’s supposed to be referencing a parallel that would be amazing (!)

And I wanna be your wife

For every syllable we’re gonna transition to a different scene with young Powder and Ekko specifically with these scenes in this order:

I tried my best to explain the syllables=scenes lmao

So I // hold you // to // my knife

(For the “so I // hold you” part)

We’ll start with the quick panning from one scene to another because the lyrics go by quick in this part of the song—so we’ll start with the scene of Jinx holding her gun during “So I” before cutting to Ekko standing there all angry during “Hold you”

(Now for the “to // my knife” part)

The reason I separated the lyric is because “to” drags on for about the same amount of time “my knife” is sang for. So it’ll be the part where Ekko is charging at Jinx with his board and stealing the hex orb thing, then quickly panning to the part where Ekko is getting the upper hand in the fight as he leaps towards Jinx.

Kind of like the first part of the entire lyric block where thy change scenes in between the double slash mark (//)

…also I know all of the clips in this part are very out of order from the actually scene in the show but it needs to be like this in order for a complete poetic masterpiece…

And I steal // your letter

(For the “and I steal” part)

Nowwwww is where Ekko will be looking up at the mural of Powder in the Firelight Base because it’s supposed to be sort of suggesting that he stole one last memory of Powder:

(Now for the “your letter” part)

This is just the second half of the explanation above. It’s just the mural y’all. And honestly, use whatever clip of the mural you want like you could use the one where it’s zoomed in on Powder’s face, or you could use the one where it’s a wide shot that captures Ekko and Vi in the frame.

This is obviously the close up on Powder on the mural,(which is preferred) but honestly if you guys are going through the trouble of making this edit then choose whatever clip for this part bc I’m eternally grateful.

Not a lot // just forever

Because I’m running out of the amount of photos I can add to a post, I’ll merge both side of the double slash lyric scene separation (//) into one photo for explanation

The top clip of young Powder and Ekko will be running for the duration of “Not a lot” and then after that lyric has passed, then the bottom scene of them fighting it out as their older selves in real time will play for the duration of the lyrics “Just forever”

Intertwine // some together

I couldn’t really choose one parallel scene from the finale fight because there’s so many so you guys just take your pick from the groups.

P.S. the scene on the top with the the one playing during “Intertwine” and the scene connected on the bottom half with be the one playing during “Some together”

(I’ll repost with the final photo bc I’m at my photo limit 😭)

ANYWHOOOOO

I was thinking that all the clips should start with high velocity and then quickly move into slow motion for the clips especially because they’re short clips and they’ll go quickly… yeah if you don’t understand what I mean, I guess what I’m trying to say is make it twixtor and then speed it up at the beginning so it’s like smoothing transitioning Ykwim??

Feel fully entitled to transition the clips however you want, you can fade into other clips for more drama idk. Just suggesting slo-mo clips because the scene are short 👍

[kalosian-woods]

GYM LEADER THOUGHTS PT. 3

(pt 1 here / pt 2 here)

VALERIE

Yes, I'm still mad that the first episode within Laverre (that even has Serena's face in the title card sequence for JP version) didn't have Serena vs Valerie. It was perfect. It was cool. For once Serena knew about the Gym Leader before everyone and just happened to not tell them until they were already there. But enough about Serena and more about the star of this show.

Honestly I wish we got more of Valerie as a whole. She's a lady from Johto who decided to stick around Kalos and set up shop here as a fashion designer (which looks to be a pretty lucarative buisiness if all of those crowds and hearsay mean something). She looks as light and drifty as a feather, but also can come down as hard as a mallet.

(ngl every sylveon encounter sans serena's one scares me in the anime, why are they Like That)

It really is a testament to how much she truly understands her Pokemon to be able to make full use of their abilities, like Sylveon's feelers or utilizing Trick Room to boost Spritzee's speed (in which, hey, why is its speed stat so low fr??), and I love how much that connects with her keen eye for Pokemon-styled fashion and her love for Pokemon overall.

The very fact that one of her most leading desires, if not the most leading desire, is that she wants to be a Pokemon as well/becoming one with them is amazing as it is, thematically and from a characterisation standpoint. That's the reason why she designs her clothes the way they are-- to mimic the Pokemon to a T and hopefully transfer that feeling and replicate the effect. It's such an interesting goal in Kalos itself: where people and Pokemon bonding together can cause the rise of the local phenomenon, where we have previously learnt a lesson with Korrina about the roles in a battle, where we are at the third quarter of the journey to the Kalos League. It feels almost late, except that I feel like it's more of a late AND early 'concept' as it is.

Late as in we've already delved into the roles of people and Pokemon, and how each of them fufill their own roles in battle and have their own strengths/weaknesses, covering each other up through trust and love (basically the whole basis of Mega Evolution). But in a way, isn't Valerie already following that principle by talking to Sylveon pre-battle, telling the Pokemon what to do, keeping focused on what Ash is calling out or is possibly planning?? (but also seriously, major parallels to Ramos talking with Gogoat in battle and satisfying its bloodlust lol)

And early when we think about Ash-Greninja; wasn't Ash, in that state, becoming Greninja? Weren't they merging, becoming one, beyond one? And didn't they viscerally need that connection? And didn't they understand each other beyond words? And didn't Greninja adopt Ash's look and Ash adopt Greninja's stance, a physcial reminder of their bond?

(c'mon let me have this gif... at least it looked nice here and actually showed the whole similarities to mega evo in a way that even i can tell...)

The fact that her designs are based on Pokemon are also what she views as 'true beauty' 'inspired by nature itself' (subs surprised me by giving her a rural accent lol), which ALSO links a lot to the upcoming Team Flare arc (well... whatever part of the arc we got) (look, all we got was a rushed rant about beauty and sharing for two eps in terms of 'themes' and it still gets me :c) with their own perceptions of beauty. In a way it's fitting that we get this in the Fairy Gym, where beauty is expected and sort of standardised, especially since Valerie is a designer. She has to make beautiful clothes, so she can sell them to enough people and get enough hype to start the next collection.

But beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right? And I like how Fairy Type Pokemon in and of themselves aren't conventionally 'attractive' or y'know, the common image of fairies themselves. We've got the Marill line, Snubbull line, the Mimes; Pokemon like Klefki and even Xerneas, Life itself. What all connects them is that idea of mystique and wonder (and lots of pink, Opal was right heh) and glamour, that is, not everything appearing as it really is. While I like the direction of Valerie designing famous fashionware, it would've been amazing to see some of that 'glamour' at its true form, beyond her slightly feral Gym Leader personality (no seriously why are Kalos Gym Leaders like that)-- maybe she adopts some of Bill's (from Kanto, y'know, the lighthouse guy) philosophy and acts as a Pokemon to really get a feel for their skin since her clothes are designed for battle. Maybe she forgoes speaking some days and surrounds herself with her Pokemon to get that purest essence of them. Maybe she gets challengers to indulge some 'connection' time with their Pokemon too, in a similar way of how Ramos got Ash to try out tea and gardening before the Gym Battle. Or maybe she designs some clothes off challengers Pokemon lol. Idk just give us more unhinged Valerie and I'm yours, people.

OLYMPIA

Psychic-Type Gym Leaders are unusally busted in the anime (re: whatever Sabrina is on in OG/S1), but I find it so cool that Olympia can actually see the future. Not only it works so well with the Kalos themes of Life and Death and even Order, but also just the whole idea of her going out of her way to protect Kalos with this gift as well as guiding other trainers to also harness their Psychic powers.

Her apprentice, Charlene, describes this power as being led by the voice of the stars, which makes it feel like this outer force that has been determined long before anyone was around-- with the fact that the light of stars reaches Earth after travelling for millions of years, echoes of the past appearing before us today. I feel like this is especially poigant with (presumably) her duplicate ancestor in 'The Legend of X, Y and Z' Olympica, who literally looks just like her and even managed to survive the whole Yveltal Oblivion Wing buisness. I mean, we have no proof that she isn't the same person, but also just the fact that they both have predicted the rise of a Legendary and a person who follows it is pretty neat imo.

I really do want to talk about the fact that she used her powers to protect Kalos from the TSME incident regarding Kyogre and Groudon, though; because honestly, we don't really get to see the actual effects of Legendary clashes and that's one thing I like about XY, that they at least think about that (even though we just got a side mention of it here).

Beyond the fact that it's Sycamore who brings it up (hi bro, how's Lysandre and Alain doing heh), I find it interesting that most of her visions regard what the Legendary Pokemon are doing. Which makes sense in a way, because they are the major movers in the Pokemon world-- most plots, human-caused or otherwise, usually involve them. And the fact that Charlene talks about having to decipher what Olympia's current predictions means to figure out their scale and significance really shows that it's not only the work of Olympia to save everyone, but something that the whole city/the Psychic Trainers take part in. Something something teamwork makes the dream work something.

On top of that, the way that they 'took all possible countermeasures' in Kalos to prevent any casualties or negative effects really speaks to the peace that the Kalos region truly enjoys, and how that banks on Olympia's predictions and the analysis of Anistar City residents. Because all Kalosian are protected from threats like these, I feel like that really softened them up in a way. Hoenn over here has dealt with Groudon and Kyogre at least twice in Ash's run, while Kalos has, up to this point (anime-wise) only had that Jan problem with the XY special, since there is no indication of the Pokemon War having happened. And maybe that factors towards Lysandre believing that he has a right to cull the world as he sees fit with Legendaries, because there hasn't been anything like this before, and maybe that leads to the reduced amount of participants in the League, and maybe that is something that Alain reflects when he compares his past self to his present self (hardened by circumstances beyond his control).

And maybe the way that Olympia goes through this visions is her own way of doing what's right, even if it means coddling them, even if it means holding their hand with the Psychic Trainers getting guided through a meditation session (which leads to Carrie getting 'carried' away with her own views on the future), because only she can truly see the visions and in a way, she's always going to be a little biased. Being a Leader (in more ways than one) would probably mean for her that she has to make the hard decisions, especially since the bulk of the predictions falls onto her to view and describe them. I know that she comes around with Charlene to admonish Carrie but imo the way that it's a 'habit' speaks a lot as to how long this has been going on, and honestly I just like imagining the great oracle being a mother hen and wanting to protect everyone no matter the cost. Also also I wish her predictions made more sense sometimes ('deep green eyes' 'green fire' girl it's clearly red fire and the only thing green is Squishy's body, not his eyes) (ik I'm not supposed to take it literally but also it's not just me, right?? it could've been cooler) and also because she relies so much on 'seeing' past and future, I'm having her in the AU have a blindfold on so she can focus 100% on her visions (which can be shown as pinpricks of light/ 'stars' that she views in the darkness of the blindfold) with her Meowstic and Charlene guiding her in the physical world. Look, I'm just having fun with this AU lol :P

WULFRIC

We know him, we hopefully love him: the guy who ended Ash's relentless winning streak against all of the other Gym Leaders and who indirectly forced him to self-reflect and reconnect with Greninja (no matter how quick that reconnection was :/). Wulfric to me is such a mixed bag in the way that we don't get to see as much of him as the others, even though in-games we initially meet him in the Pokemon Village and see how much he cares about other Pokemon, looking after all of these wild ones and even asking us to check around.

Strictly talking about anime though, he's definitely a character. After spending the better part of a season getting to his Gym, he absolutely wipes the floor with Ash. And I find it interesting that it's not the first match but in the rematch that he whips out Mega Evolution, especially since (a) no other Gym Leader in any continuity, I believe, uses that except Korrina and (b) he actually and actively makes the rematch harder right in front of Ash's eyes and goads him into doing his best against his Abomasnow. Just straight-up chills lol. Can't say that he isn't testing Ash for all he's worth. And his quote, ugh /pos!!!

(yes his anime line is the same as the games, that's just Gym Leaders at this point lol)

Going through the in-game quotes, it really seems that he's an honest guy (to a fault) who likes to state things as they are, no matter how hard or soft it may come off as (which is very much shown in anime, even with the little screentime). He's unrelenting, hard-headed, and as inflexible as ice + numerous other faults that he's glad to list lol. But he's also got a family and he keeps a picture of them in his locket (get away, anime) and is glad to have supportive friends and if that isn't the true depth and duality of this man then idk what is heh (old man opposite of Ramos over here with the fluidity of man instead lol).

And honestly? I think these traits are such good ones to come across for the last Gym, for Ash and for us. That you can survive life being stubborn and unrelenting, and you can also be as fluid as water, and each of these ways have their own strengths and weaknesses. And it is about covering for those weaknesses and leaning to those strengths that make all the difference-- No, rather it is through the bond you make, with both people and Pokemon, that allows for the covering of your faults and the boost to your own strength.

As any self-respecting XY AU will do /j, I'm obviously going to linger on Snowbelle and the effects that it has on everybody. We desperately needed more of Wulfric as a whole, not only as a Gym Leader but as... well... himself. For a Gym at such a pivotal moment of Ash's (and everyone else's) journey, we should be getting oodles out of him. And the games literally gives us an option with the Pokemon Village!! Like imagine Ash and Greninja facing such a place, a place where Wulfric said was filled with Pokemon that were abandoned or too strong for their own good (isn't that what Greninja was, so long ago?). Or just Ash finding out that Wulfric has a life outside of the Gym a la Brawly style in Hoenn, realising that battling isn't everything. That this super strong Gym Leader that is demolishing his team isn't even training non-stop like he has been (can you tell how many times I wish Ash got that reminder in XY???). At this point of time where Ash is distancing himself from his friends and they can't do anything, where Sawyer has surpassed his idol and Serena is disillusioned, shouldn't Wulfric, in all of his stubborn and woman-respecting (no seriously, have you seen his face when Ash handed Serena his jacket the first time they battled?? also family of girls and His Wife) glory be the one to show Ash the way?? Not in words, I don't feel like he's the type of guy to wax poetry or lecture him on some grand moral. But in actions. In just being himself.

CRISIS TIME (OKAY ❤️ YAY ❤️)

(no i'm not going into the whole clembot thing even though it does link to clemont and his role as a gym leader. that needs another ask/post)

Honestly there isn't much to say about the Gym Leaders together, except that it was very sudden lol. We don't get much chemistry out of them beyond the very obvious Grant + Viola (hey guys), but there is the fact that they decided to come together at Lumiose together, and before that, watch the whole Lysandre talk (which meant that they were definitely paying attention for the League). Does it make much sense?? Not really, especially since... Umm... where are they watching this again??

Yeah. Fun places to watch. Don't fall off a cliff, Grant. And also cool 5G network you got there, Olympia, must be nice to pirate channels like that.

But I do like the fact that they all came to work together rather than just them all doing their seperate things. It must've been hard with all of their differing personalities and battling styles, but they were stronger for it, working towards that one goal together: stopping the Megalith.

Valerie pulling out Spritzee with Moonblast, Korrina running ahead with Mega Lucario and Bone Rush, Ramos paving a way with Grass Knot and such powerful words:

(even though once again, please, we need more work on Ash for this to be applicable... but yes, for once, he can't afford to look back, he has to keep going, this is the price of strength - that it's only you who can handle the burden at the very end)

Viola freeing them from the vines and getting one-shotted herself, Grant building his own wall for them to climb before seeing what happened to her and jumping to save her anyways, because they care. Wulfric stopping the vines coming in from behind them, because he cares. Because they all care-- Malva going ahead to clear the way besides Diantha, Sycamore, Clemont and yes, even *suppresses laughter* Blaziken Mask. Olympia somehow surviving all of this to blast off a few Future Sight attacks. And even afterwards with the Lysandre Rock (yes, I'm calling it that), the way that they all collaborated together (Valerie calling out Light Screen/acts as Protect against the first attack, Clemont directing everyone to the device on Lysandre's arm as an attack point, the way they kept attacking and believing and trusting that this will do it, that they will stop it, that all their efforts aren't for naught, a force so strong it tided Zygarde over to fight for their side--). All of this is the accumulation of them, deep down, deciding that they love this world as it is and will do anything for it. Will protect it, will fight for it, will even sacrifice themselves for it. As Ash aptly says:

And even though we never get any time for the Gym Leaders to, y'know, actually talk to each other, I can't say that it was nothing. Because taking down the Megalith? It was a team effort, and actually needed some sort of collaboration and mutual understanding to fight it the way they did. Even if we do go with the assumption that none of them know each other beyond strictly canon, well, you can't say they didn't make memories together.

Of course the Crisis had more than them and I can go into that, but since we're going about the Gym Leaders here we're sticking with it. But man, for a big event that had somewhat patchy leadup, you have to admit it was flashy. Not going to spoil for the AU, but basically you can catch some of my drift here lol, and honestly, feel free to drop your suggestions (everyone!!). Because while it was okay, I honestly, truly, believe that the Kalos Crisis and everything before it could've been oodles more better and fleshed out while retaining that dramatic effect.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Anyways, that's all of my current thoughts about them acculmulated over a few days, ngl I have more thoughts now after pouring over this all but I can't be bothered to add anything at this point ^^' Hopefully you've enjoyed my analysis/rant/thoughts about life itself, it was pretty fun embedding pics and gifs even if it was such a big pain lol. Feel free to add your own thoughts about the Gym Leaders, I love hearing new ideas and perspectives heh :D <333

[arkaniske]

Where the Sea Awaits

AO3 Link * Chapter three: Jyees & Vick’trr 6200 words * SFW * Jayvik * Selkie!AU Beta read by @kitcatkim [[1st chapter of the fic here]] cw for descriptions of healing injury Summary: When Jayce Talis discovers a stranger cast ashore, he can't shake the feeling that the sea itself has intertwined their fates. The steady rhythm of the tides he's spent his life mastering is suddenly disrupted, and as he delves into the mystery of a man seemingly torn from the depths, an unexpected bond begins to form.

The longer his gaze lingered on the man—still sitting stiffly, the blanket draped over his too-thin frame—Jayce felt the frustration melt into something quieter. Softer. Whatever had happened to this stranger, he was clearly lost, wary and hurting. And gods, if Jayce wasn’t at least a little lost himself.

The ocean stretched endlessly around the fisherman. A striking blue colour only rivalled by the sky it reflected, two parallels finding a gentle caress at the horizon to merge into one. The sailor’s lungs were filled with salt, his skin kissed a thousand times by the sun and his heart beating with the rhythm of the ocean. He couldn’t remember casting off. He wasn’t sure where he was, nor did he care. The sound of his fishing rod flying past his head as he cast his line was enough to pull the corners of his lips into a content smile. Calm settled into the fisherman’s bones, and he watched the lazy bobber skate across the waves. Time passed oddly here, the seafarer watched as the sun rose and sank into the water and yet, he felt no need for food or sleep. Every now and then the bobber would be pulled into the deep blue, and he would reel it in only to find it empty. Another piece of fish would be speared on the hook before he cast the line once more, awaiting the next catch. With a loud crack, the fishing line went taut in an instant, nearly pulling the rod out of the fisherman’s hand. He was quick to plant his feet, the wood of his ship starting to twist around his ankles to hold him in place. The rod bent sharply, creaking under the strain of the weight, and the fisherman’s grip tightened to whitened knuckles. As the line pulled again the boat rocked with the force. He leaned back, muscles straining as he began to reel it in, but the weight at the other end didn’t give. It only demanded more of the line tethering the two, pulling it deeper into the ocean. The water around the boat remained still even as the battle continued, no waves formed. No thrashing. Nothing. The air grew thick and heavy around him, pressing against his chest like an unseen force. It reminded him of the crushing weight of water at great depths—the way it could wring his lungs, leaving no room for air. He swallowed hard, each inhale feeling more laboured than the last. He cast a quick glance over the side of the boat, what little breath he had left hitching as the water below darkened. The deep blue shifted into an endless void as though the ocean floor had risen to meet him. Then, the line snapped. The fisherman stumbled. Had it not been for his rooted feet he would have fallen over with the rod. He froze, gaze locked on the water as waves threatened to claw their way into his ship, lapping at the railing and leaving deep claw marks in their wake as it pulled back. His heart pounded against his ribs as he leaned over the edge once more, searching for the source. This time, the water was staring back. Two golden orbs appeared in the depths, glowing faintly as they hovered just below the surface. They did not blink or waver, only stare as if they could see through the very core of the fisherman. He could hear the wood of his ship break and snap under the force of the ocean, claws dragging along the bow of the ship—they might as well have been dragged along his spine and bones. The sound settled somewhere in his chest, and he felt unwell. Without warning the ocean surged upwards, the light shattering into a thousand blinding fragments. Like broken glass, reflecting the sun in a thousand shards, only to illuminate the fisherman. The boat tipped violently, and without the wood to ground him, he felt himself falling into the waters. Falling into the light. Into the eyes—and—

[[Continue on AO3]]

[mostlypetty30]

The way SJM has set up her series has me irritated about the direction of the next book.

The next book in the ACOTAR series could force readers into getting the CC series if not also the TOG series. This is nothing but a form of bad writing and comes across as a money grab.

The thing is regardless if it's a singular universe, a multiverse, a parallel universe, etc. If it started out as it's own series then it should remain that way. If you want to merge them in an event then do that with an event novel or a separate series that caters to the big multiverse events. A lot of media does this well. Even then that media makes it to where you get the information you need to understand, but it also has a way of enticing the consumers into branching out to see more works.

If you want to do what CC did and merge some characters into there to open up a Multiverse thing, then give the details needed to understand. Entice them read the other series if they wish, but do not force their hand in order to get major plot line or lore information. That's horrid. Not even the MCU does that to it's viewers. It's not just bad writing but also something that reeks of corporate greed.

The point here is. A series should easily stand on it's own. Regardless of what universal situation it is in. It should contain everything a reader needs for that universe or situation without having to go to a whole other place to get it.

Last thing on this topic. If the series had been preset to be a crossover there probably wouldn't be such an issue. But it wasn't and here we are now.

Let me end this by saying that I don't like SJM and I'm not a fan of her publishing team / company either (I'm tired of people acting like it's just the author here at fault for some of these issues.) I got all of her books for the ACOTAR series secondhand because it was recommended for me to give her a try so that my friends and I could have a discussion over the problematic writing and how we can use this as an example in an effort to help others become better, stronger, storytellers. I talk a lot about this series here because I have frustrations that I need to let out. There is some good in this series, but a lot of it has problematic writing, themes, characters, and more. Which is no surprise considering the author. Eventually, I'll get the multitude of essays over these subjects on here, but for now ... I just need to let it out as I work with these books. No, I will NOT be reading TOG and CC. Not even if SJM forces me to for major lore or whatever. I have put enough time into her work and she's just not the author for me. The only thing keeping me here are the groups analysis and discussing issues with open debate forums (which is actually enjoyable since other fandoms aren't as heavily into doing this at the level that the ACOTAR fandom has produced) and the fan fiction writers who do the hard work of actually fixing a lot of the issues in the text. Bless you both, may your pillows forever be to your liking. May your food always taste pleasant. May your games always run smoothly. May you never lose a sock.

[qeireinier]

I think what Original Luo Binghe did to Shen Jiu parallels what happened between Wei Wuxian and Wen Chao. Let me yap.

Look this might sound stupid to you but I just rewatched MDZS and I JUST saw some similarities with PIDW. After coming out of the Burial Mounds, WWX literally tortured WC before his death. The Burial Mounds is a place of literal torture and WWX went through HELL in it without his golden core. Because of what? Because of WC, he's the one who threw him into there.

It's an eye for an eye. WWX must've gotten his organs rearranged, bones crushed by constant attacks from walking corpses, eaten corpse fingers to survive, and many other horrors MXTX didn't mention. So WC SHOULD feel all of that, as payment for his sins to WWX and all other people he inflicted.

With LBG and SJ, the Endless Abyss is almost no different than Burial Mounds except it's festered with demonic instead of resentful energy (I think they're not really the same type?) and various types of beasts iirc. So even with his golden core, it's still harder for LBH because he barely knew how to avoid or fight them, where their weak spots are, etc. And instead of 3 months, it's 5 YEARS so it's enough time for his hatred for SJ to fester like a fairytale witch's soup. In the very beginning, he must've also gone through hell. Maybe the beasts ripped his limbs apart, stabbed his eyes, pulled his tongue out and only because of his Heavenly Demon blood that he recovered himself back (probably). It's very different from running away from resentful corpses because you KNOW just how to fight them off, even though it's just impossible for their number.

So, seeing LBH making SJ into a human stick doesn't surprise me too much. It's the case of an eye for an eye. No, it's still wrong, I'm not justifying it. I'm just making my analysis. THAT'S why it reminds me so much of WC's death.

Even both of the MCs have a demonic object in their hands, the Stygian Tiger Seal and Xin Mo. Both are untamable and capable of driving their holders insane. What differs our MC however—is that WWX has things to lose, and that's why he's often shown to be holding himself back from a killing spree. Hell, he's even the actual most righteous character in the novel.

While LBH doesn't have anything left to lose. He doesn't have a family, friends, all these wives and servants probably don't mean much on him. Also, his demon blood affects his mindset, giving his brain more "predatory instincts" as I'm gonna call it. Added with the fact that he spent more time in the Endless Abyss and how his mind had been corrupted by Xin Mo, LBH would pull a "No More Mr. Nice Guy, Heh >:)". That makes him not so kind as to give SJ the mercy of death. He probably wanted to keep SJ alive for 5 years or maybe forever til his brain finally decides "yep, that's it, go die or whatever idc anymore". Yeah, until BingggeMei extra happened and we could probably assume SJ's death is never gonna happen, but that's for another story nevermind.

However, it does mean that the latter won't hold himself back. The point where he crosses the line is when he burns down the CQMS, kills the Peak Lords, and even went so far as to merge the demonic and mortal realms. That's what differs him from WWX, so much. It's literally canonically said that he's not the nice kind of protag.

SO in conclusion—when I see people talking about how "SJ didn't deserve all that", I'm between agreeing and disagreeing. What LBG did to SJ is terribly inhumane, but that's to be expected from a demon emperor like him. Hey I'm a SJ stan, it doesn't mean my views are completely biased. Especially considering what LBG possibly went through in the Endless Abyss for five years as a mere disciple without a sword like Xuan Su.

I think this is why PIDW readers rooted for LBG, because the story was from his POV. Tragic MC, thrown into the pits of hell by his cruel master. Our perspective is widened through reading SV and we can see the tragic POV of SJ and so we start to root for him too. No, it doesn't mean that either of these 2 are completely right in their choices, the both of them are very flawed and they're trapped in this cycle of abuse, very harmful to the surroundings. We can't fully fault or justify them. Yes, they need therapists, perchance one hidden behind a very powerful barrier in case any of them decides to attack the poor therapist.

But this realization—the parallels between LBG&SJ and WWX&WC—just kind of amazes me. Okay, ted talk ends, thank you for surviving through, if you don't have any nice words to say please scroll away :(

[cognitiveinequality]

I know it's mostly just been taken as a big joke on late night TV, but if you're a resident of either Canada or the U.S., you should know that Trump is pretty transparently using the exact arguments that Putin used to "justify" his invasion of Ukraine to describe the U.S./Canada relationship.

From the article:

"Ukraine is an artificial state," Putin told Tucker Carlson in an interview in February 2024. The U.S.-Canada border is an "artificially drawn line," Trump said in a Jan. 7 news conference. "You get rid of that artificially drawn line, and you take a look at what that looks like. And it would also be much better for national security," Trump said. "That would really be something." Trump followed up with a social media post including a map that erased the nation of Canada. "The reference to a meaningless administrative border," said former Canadian diplomat and international lawyer Sabine Nölke, "is how Putin described Ukraine."

Despite mainstream coverage in the U.S., this whole thing is not just about tariffs on lumber or whatever — the Trump administration could very well be getting ready to attempt to "annex" a neighboring country, and then we'd all be in the fucking soup for real.

I don't want to sound like a scaremonger, but I ALSO don't want this lunatic and his war-hungry minions to start massing troops in Minnesota because he's mad about Canada having a lot of trees or some shit.

Take this seriously.

(Full article text below the cut for those who don't want to click thru:)

Trump's talk about Canada parrots Putin's claims on Ukraine

Speaking on borders, economics and security — the 2 leaders sound remarkably similar

It took a while for Canadian politicians to figure out that Donald Trump wasn't joking with his talk about annexing Canada.

After Trump raised the idea at a dinner in Mar-A-Lago attended by Prime Minister Justin Trudeau on Nov. 29, Intergovernmental Affairs Minister Dominic Leblanc said the "joke" was actually a positive.

"The president was teasing us. It was, of course, in no way a serious comment," LeBlanc said.

"The fact that there's a warm, cordial relationship between the two leaders and the president is able to joke like that, we think, is a positive thing."

No one is calling it positive now.

Perhaps Canadian politicians can be forgiven their slowness of uptake, given that Trump's comments are entirely unprecedented in modern U.S.-Canadian relations.

But there is one strong parallel for his remarks. While Trump's words may never move past the talking stage, they resemble the claims, pretexts and justifications used by Russia's Vladimir Putin before and during his invasion of Ukraine.

Canadians' secret desire to be annexed

"Many people in Canada LOVE being the 51st State," Donald Trump wrote on his social media platform Truth Social on Jan. 6.

"The United States can no longer suffer the massive Trade Deficits and Subsidies that Canada needs to stay afloat. Justin Trudeau knew this, and resigned. If Canada merged with the U.S., there would be no Tariffs, taxes would go way down and they would be TOTALLY SECURE from the threat of the Russian and Chinese Ships that are constantly surrounding them. Together, what a great Nation it would be!!!"

That post contained themes that would later become staples of Trump and his supporters' claims about Canada.

First is the claim that lots of Canadians want to become Americans. Some in Trump's Make America Great Again movement have explained the absence of a visible groundswell of support for annexation in Canada as a result of a harsh regime of censorship, as decried by Elon Musk and this week by Joe Rogan.

Canadians' supposed secret desire to be annexed might sound familiar to Russians who have heard their leader make similar claims about Ukrainians, says Maria Popova, an expert on Russian politics at McGill University.

"The whole argument is based on the claim that fundamentally and deep down, all Ukrainians want this," she said. "They want this unification with Russia."

In a long op-ed he wrote in July 2021, Putin laid out his claim that the Ukrainian people, in their hearts, aspired to be part of Mother Russia, but their voices were censored.

"There are millions of such people," he wrote. "But they are not allowed to raise their heads. They have had their legal opportunity to defend their point of view taken away from them."

Better off together

Like Trump extolling the economic wonders of a U.S.-Canada annexation ("what a great Nation it would be!!!"), Putin said a combined Russia and Ukraine would be much better off.

"Together we have always been and will be many times stronger and more successful," wrote Putin. "We are natural complementary economic partners."

Popova says both leaders like to emphasize how annexation would be good economically for all concerned.

"The first parallel I see is the argument that it is somehow in Canadian's best interest to be a part of the U.S. because fundamentally we're not that different. This is indeed very similar to the argument that, you know, Ukrainians have some sort of quirky identity maybe, but fundamentally we're the same."

Many of Putin's arguments about Russians and Ukrainians are based on Kremlin-centric historical narratives that, he claims, show a common identity.

"The thrust of the Russian argument is that Ukraine is not a real country, that Ukrainians are fundamentally wayward Russians," said Popova. "They're these younger little brothers who are going in the wrong direction and they need to be brought back into the fold of the Russian nation."

Trump is no student of history (he famously claimed that George Washington won the American Revolution after he "took over the airports"), and he hasn't echoed Putin's long-winded historical arguments about shared ethnicity.

But Americans are, of course, well aware of the cultural affinity of the two former British colonies — a selling point for Canadian politicians trying to pitch Canada's case in the U.S. No prominent Republican has proposed annexing Mexico as a solution to its ostensibly similar trade and border issues.

'Artificial' lines and countries

Canadian officials have said that the moment they realized Trump was serious about annexation was when he began to raise the history of U.S.-Canadian border arrangements, specifically the 1908 treaty that fixed parts of the border. The officials haven't revealed exactly what Trump said about the treaty.

Putin has questioned the legitimacy of historic agreements over the border between Russia and Ukraine, particularly Nikita Khrushchev's decision in 1954 to give Crimea to the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic.

"Ukraine is an artificial state," Putin told Tucker Carlson in an interview in February 2024.

The U.S.-Canada border is an "artificially drawn line," Trump said in a Jan. 7 news conference.

"You get rid of that artificially drawn line, and you take a look at what that looks like. And it would also be much better for national security," Trump said. "That would really be something." Trump followed up with a social media post including a map that erased the nation of Canada.

"The reference to a meaningless administrative border," said former Canadian diplomat and international lawyer Sabine Nölke, "is how Putin described Ukraine."

Nölke was Canada's permanent representative to the international courts at The Hague as well as ambassador to the Netherlands until 2019.

"Now all of a sudden Trump started using that language," she told CBC News, "and it came in the context of him waving around this 1908 border treaty between Canada and the U.S."

That treaty, says Nölke, is a minor administrative one that mostly deals with physically marking borders already delineated in previous accords. "He latches on to little things as evidence or as being connected to a bigger idea he has. And his big idea is Canada is not a legitimate state."

"So somebody has waved this treaty at him. So he's now running around saying 'Aha, see there, it's all administrative. It doesn't really exist,' completely and utterly ignoring all the other indicia of Canadian statehood, sovereignty and territorial integrity.

"But the bigger message is you don't exist. You should be part of us."

The myth of subsidies

Trump's grievances toward Canada are also ostensibly about money, and the charge that Canada is stiffing the U.S. on trade, defence and energy.

"Canada has been very tough to deal with over the years, and it's not fair that we should have a $200 billion or $250 billion deficit," he claimed on his third full day in office.

Putin, in his national address on Russian state TV two nights before the full-scale invasion of Ukraine, made similar claims.

"Our Ukrainian colleagues turned to us for financial support from the moment they declared independence," he claimed. "According to expert assessments … the overall benefit for the Ukrainian budget amounted to $250 billion."

Putin accused Kyiv officials of "a parasitic attitude."

Trump has complained "We pay hundreds of Billions of Dollars to SUBSIDIZE Canada…. Without this massive subsidy, Canada ceases to exist as a viable Country."

In his eve-of-war address, Putin told Russians that Ukrainian authorities "always preferred dealing with Russia in a way that ensured they enjoy all the rights and privileges while remaining free from any obligations."

Protection rackets

"Russia has also constantly insisted that it is the best guarantor of Ukrainian sovereignty and security," said Popova. "And this is something that Trump has started bringing up as well, this idea that Canada needs protection from something, and only the U.S. can provide this protection."

Popova says Trump's comments about Russian and Chinese ships being near Canada are a "really big red flag."

"Take a look at what's going on out there [in Canada]," he said on Feb. 13. "You have Russian ships, you have Chinese ships, you have a lot of ships out there, and you know, people are in danger. This is a different world. Today it's a different world. They don't have any military protection."

Putin's eve-of-invasion speech also focused on the supposed threat of foreign military presence in Ukraine. "Ukraine's airspace is open to flights by strategic and reconnaissance aircraft and drones," he warned, as well as "activity by NATO warships."

Although she's not expecting an imminent invasion, Popova says Trump's arguments sound like a man trying to construct a pretext.

"It's an absurd claim in a similar way in which the Russian claim towards Ukraine is absurd because, in reality, nobody else was threatening Ukraine but Russia. And right now nobody else is really threatening Canada but the U.S. So this to me is a very alarming parallel in the rhetoric."

She pointed out that as NATO allies, the U.S. is already obligated to come to Canada's defence.

"So this is clearly a nonsensical argument, but one that signals that he is looking for these excuses that look like he is well-meaning — 'well, I want to protect you' — but in reality it's driven by a desire and plan to somehow make this annexation happen."

Nölke said Trump's 51st state talk may turn out to be just another meme created to entertain his MAGA followers. But even if the threats are never carried out, they have done severe damage.

"In terms of state-to-state relations, he has already violated international law, threatening international peace and security, threatening the sovereignty and territorial integrity of Canada. This is not something that's going to happen — he's already done it," Nölke said.

"The threats he's uttering against Canada and Denmark are already undermining the NATO alliance. So that is something that I think the North Atlantic Council will need to address."

Merging world views a threat to Canada

Of course, Trump has not merely echoed Putin's Ukraine rhetoric when talking about Canada. He also repeats it when talking about Ukraine itself, as on Wednesday when he branded Ukraine's president a "dictator." Trump and his followers have repeatedly painted Ukraine as a leech for receiving U.S. military aid.

Trump this week suggested Russia has earned the right to keep Ukrainian territory because "they fought for that land and they lost a lot of soldiers." He has said that Putin, who launched the war in the first place and who has ordered repeated attacks on civilian targets, "wants to see people stop dying."

On Monday in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio hinted at a wider and deeper new relationship with Moscow that sounded a lot like an alliance, speaking of "the incredible opportunity to partner with the Russians geopolitically, on issues of common interest, and, frankly, economically."

A U.S.-Russian alliance — or even just alignment of views and values — would be dangerous to Canada, said Popova.

"That's really the fundamental danger here, that they seem to be aligned in how they think the world should be run — no longer through the rules-based order that prohibits conquest, but by big powers deciding the fate of the smaller countries. This is really making a comeback and that should be very concerning to us."

[pinkroseblooms]

There's parallels between Matakara and Shindo that I think may be foreshadowing Matakara becoming antagonistic to Arajin down the line:

They both started out weak and victims to stronger people and grew to idolize people who inspired them to become stronger (Arajin and Mitsukuni for Matakara, Kenichiro for Shindo). They both value strength but that's where the similarities start differing: Matakara pursues an ideal that being strong comes with integrity. To Shindo, it's about control. Controlling the people around him and doing whatever it takes to get what you want, morals and code of honor are for suckers. Being a "strong man" is using whatever you have your disposal to gain it and if you do that, you've proven something, it doesn't really matter "how".

It's interesting how Mahoro sees right away the core of Shindo's character: he's hollow. He doesn't really stand for anything, doesn't have principles and his mindset earned the disapproval of the person he admired and strove to be like at one point. That's where his motivations stem from: Shindo is petty af and behind the drive he has to prove his way is the "right" way, he doesn't have much substance. I've heard people say some of his viciousness might be from his attachment to Ichiya but 1. It's debatable how much influence a Honki person has when they merge we still don't know too much about how the connection works and 2. We don't actually know much about Ichiya's personality, we just know Senya has a rivalry with him and something went down between them

With all that being said, I'm certain Ichiya is going to attach himself to Matakara and somehow it will result in Matakara similarly becoming antagonistic to Arajin and struggling to maintain his ideals or maybe he ends up becoming too extreme with them under Ichiya (and maybe his brother's?) influence?

And serious I am so fucking curious about how Mitsukuni is going to be involved with the plot. Why did he got to juvie? How strong is he? Does he know anything about Honki people? How I he going to react to Arajin being back and becoming so strong? (I'm assuming they at least knew of each other previously since Matakara and Arajin were childhood friends) What sort of person is he? Did he change being locked up? My brain is buzzing I can't stress how excited I am for what feels like Act 2 of this awesome show.

[kareofbears]

you never gave a warning sign (i gave so many signs)

"Communication, right?" Thomas spits, looming above Newt, and he hates this, hates it so much but he has to pull Newt out of whatever mindset he's buried himself in. It's one thing to raze the world to save Newt—it's another for Newt to be the one to get in his way. "Then talk. Convince me to let you turn into a Crank."

—

Or, a missing scene in The Death Cure where Thomas can't let Newt sacrifice himself. He just can't.

read on ao3 or below the tag :)

It never fails to send Thomas reeling, whenever it happens.

It happened a lot when they were in the Glade, sure. They got along well, very well, even when Thomas had just freshly popped out of the Box and could barely catch his breath with the speed of questions leaving his mouth. But he and Newt weren't aligned yet, not the way they are now. Back in the Maze, it was more political than anything, a system of governing that both of them had to heed. Power structures, hierarchy, Greenie this, Keeper that, order, order, order.

Out of the walls and into the Scorch, the two of them snapped into place. There was no room for hesitation, not when it was just Newt and Thomas (and Minho. They have to save Minho, now). All structure gone, they could only rely on each other to lead a group of terrified teenagers through a desert, Cranks, and a staggering bounty on each of their heads. There were so few of them left, dwindling by the day, that they couldn't afford to slip up. Communication above all else. Minimize mistakes, but when they happen (and they will happen, god will they happen), talk about it. Figure it out. Make sure it doesn't happen again.

Neither of us goes to sleep confused, you hear me? If there's one thing we can control in this hell, it's this. Good that, Tommy?

Long conversations couldn't stay long, not with how fast everything moves around them. So it was something they refined, polished until it was shining.

They learned how they ebb and flow, memorized each other's landmines and remembered not to step on them unless they had to. Learned each other's nervous ticks, every twitch, every frown, what sets the other off and what's a surefire way to de-escalate the situation. They found themselves not needing much to get their point across; a breath, a few words, a pat on the back, a clenched jaw, the quirk of a brow. It was beautifully efficient for them and annoyingly grating for everyone else.

Like this, it was laughable to even try and hide the fondness they had for each other, not when it showed in their every move, every action, every breath.

Once they sorted that out, though, their wavelengths only became steadier, impossibly solid—seemingly parallel lines merged to become one, harmonizing in a frequency only they could hear, a language only they could speak.

Their foundation is something that's second nature to Thomas now, a structure that gives him good footing and the confidence to surge forward, letting him hold his head up high. If he has anything, he has this.

Until he doesn't.

—

Frypan grips his spatula like an instrument of war. “Hell no. You know my rules."

"But I just saw Gally leave with a sandwich."

"Yeah, I didn't feed that bastard for six months and look where he ended up. With some wacky military cult group who wants to take down the government. He gets to have a snack from me, just once."

Thomas sighs, just a little. "Come on, man, I'm starving."

"And what do you think I'm doing right now? Gardening?" Frypan jerks his head at the portable stove with a stock-pot bubbling on top. His tone leaves no room for argument, an assertiveness that only fully materializes in a kitchen. "Dinner's ready in an hour. A little wait won't kill you."

He fights another sigh, remembering how it was Frypan himself who used to sneak extra skewers for him back in the Glade.

It's not that he particularly likes it that people have a different attitude about him nowadays. He's grown to expect the expressions of the people around him, the range of irritated to pitiful. In truth, he knows where they're coming from. He's always been abrasive, but ever since he found out about Newt, it's gotten out of control. Thomas' temper is parabolic enough to be comparable to the Flare; he's snappish and intransigent, a complete nuisance to work with. He's fully aware that he's become borderline unbearable—the interrogation with Teresa only solidified that.

But despite everything, they still put up with it. They love him, he's their friend, yes. But the real reason they put up with it is because they understand why he's turned into this.

Thomas turns around to leave, resigned, when he hears Frypan click his tongue. "Hey." Looking back, he just barely catches a bag of trail mix tossed his way. "Share that with your boy, okay? Don't go ruining dinner just because y'all are spoiling your appetites."

Because everyone loves Newt, some of them longer than even Thomas has. While Thomas may be the loudest to voice it, may be the one who'll always take it too far, every single one of them are doing what they can to help Newt.

Thomas doesn't quite smile, but it’s a near thing. "Thanks, Fry."

"Anytime. Now get."

Newt's waiting for him just outside the kitchen, leaning against the wall, eyeing the bag. "That's not the sandwich I was promised," he says, but takes it out of Thomas' hands anyway.

"Should've been you who asked." They like you better. He pops a raisin in his mouth.

Newt gives him a look before kicking himself off the wall—an action so reminiscent of Minho it makes Thomas ache. "Now, Tommy, we have to work on that confidence of yours."

"Lots of people would beg to differ," he says, waving him off. It honestly doesn’t bother him. He likes Newt better, too.

"Depends on who you're asking." Newt shakes the bag, carefully picking out the good bits. Thomas lets him. "We probably looked real bloody confident earlier."

"Yeah," he says mildly. Thomas watches him pour the almonds back in, feeling himself start zoning out as he replays the interrogation in his head, speeded up like a faulty DVD.

Teresa's in, which is admittedly good. He and Newt talk a big game, but it would be infinitely harder to get into WICKED without her. They need to talk to Lawrence as soon as possible, make sure he doesn't back out of their deal. He also has to talk to Newt, confirm that he's comfortable flying the Berg out with Jorge. All of this is already written down in his leather notebook, written and re-written enough that he can recite it from memory, but it doesn't hurt to think it through one more time.

Without warning, Newt slaps his bicep, pulling him out of his stupor. "I can see those wheels spinning," he chides. "What's in that big head of yours?"

"Nothing." When he receives a dry look, he takes a deep breath. "Nothing yet. I'm just thinking about our next steps."

"Let me guess," Newt throws some cashews in his mouth. "You want to bust into The Last City tonight, have the infiltration take only half an hour long, and have the Flare out of my body in an hour, tops. Sound about right?"

Thomas huffs. "An hour's too long, can we make some edits on that?" Still, he can't help but let his eyes drift towards Newt's forearm. "I want that thing out of you, Newt."

"You and me both, love," Newt mumbles, chewing, deep in thought, and Thomas has to turn away to hide a pleased smile. "It's a lot to worry about. So many players involved in this, stakes are high. Teresa's only the first step."

Taking a deep breath, Newt pushes his shoulders back and starts walking in the direction of their meeting room. Thomas follows close behind.

"Here's what we're going to do," he declares, passing the half-empty bag to Thomas. Their shared footsteps are silent, a habit they fostered in this new life of theirs. Gone are the times in the Glade when they can stomp around all they like. "You and I are gonna work this out, like we always do. Every nook and cranny, every little detail your overthinking brain can think of, we're nailing down. Make this thing airtight before we bust in there, guns blazing and hell raising. Make a plan so good it'll put all of our other plans to shame. Then you're going to your little cot and sleep eight hours straight, snoring loud enough to ruin the night for the rest of us. Good that?"

Something fierce and reverent squirms in Thomas, and an easy agreement is on the tip of his tongue when something makes him stop in his tracks, feet stuttering to a halt.

Newt walks a few steps further before noticing. He turns around, brow cocked. "What's up?"

"We?"

That makes Newt's face scrunch up even more. "Well, if you wanna talk to Gally about this instead, be my guest. Or better yet, invite Teresa, why don't you?"

Thomas doesn't laugh. "We bust in," he repeats, heartbeat in his throat. "That's what you said."

The confusion melts off of Newt's face, caution taking its place. "Yes," he says slowly. "That's what I said."

A silence grows between them, and Thomas is waiting for Newt to say he's joking, that he's just trying to pull a smile out of Thomas. Instead, the silence stretches.

"Newt," he says quietly. "You aren't coming into the city."

Newt's shaking his head before Thomas can finish. "We talked about this, on the rooftop—"

"No, that was different. You wanted to help with the missions, and you have been. You wanted to help find Minho, and you did. You've already done enough."

"Done enough?" His expression is unimpressed. "Well enough that Minho's here now? Well enough that all the Immunes are magically saved? I don't think so, Tommy. We're not done here, not even close. I'm going out there."

Thomas forces himself to take a breath. "The Flare gets worse the more stressful a situation is. Here, let me—" Wildly patting down his jeans, he all but rips his notebook out of his pocket and flips through the pages, ignoring the tremble in his hands. "There, see? 'If individuals infected with the Flare are in constant stress—"

"I know."

"'—it can rapidly increase the— "

"—infection rate of the brain,'" Newt finishes, idly touching his forearm. "I know."

Thomas lets the book fall from his hand with a muffled thud and doesn’t bother to pick it up again. "Okay," he hears himself say. "You know. So you're not going."

Newt takes a step forward, placatingly eyeing him in a way that makes Thomas' chest tight. "Tommy, I'm going. This doesn't work if—"

"We'll make it work."

"You're not listening to me. If you go into WICKED, just you and—"

"We'll make Gally stay with me the whole way. Frypan. Jorge. If you're staying here—"

"Which I'm not, and you're going to have to accept—"

"You're not going—"

"Thomas," his voice is dangerously soft. Thomas flinches away, something vile curling in his gut, the sound of his own name making him sick. "Listen to me. I'm fucking going."

Thomas' eyes shutter close. It feels like his mind shutting down, cortex by cortex as he fails to understand what Newt’s trying to say. For a blissful moment, he’s deafened by the ringing in his ears and the beat of his thrumming heart.

When he finally opens his eyes, all he sees is red.

Grabbing Newt’s jacket collar, he all but drags him out the closest door, taking them to the chapel’s courtyard, unfeeling the cool night air brush against his skin. What was probably once a beautiful garden is practically a garbage dump now. Broken glass is sprinkled on top of dead rose bushes, plastic bags swaying in the breeze. There’s a fountain in the middle, its ceramic cracked and caked in dirt, filled with debris that’s accumulated over the years to the point where it spilled onto the grass beneath their feet.

Thomas doesn’t give a shit about any of it. He drops Newt on the lip of the fountain, almost throwing him in from the force of it.

"Communication, right?" he spits, looming above Newt, and he hates this, hates it so much but he has to pull Newt out of whatever mindset he's buried himself in. It's one thing to raze the world to save Newt—it's another for Newt to be the one to get in his way. "Then fucking talk. Convince me to let you turn into a Crank."

Newt's glaring daggers up at him, and it would normally be enough to sway Thomas. He steels himself and refuses to look away. Not this time.

"Don't you toss me around like I’m some damn shank," Newt says lowly, eyes narrowed. "And you're not letting me do anything. I'll do what I damn well please if it helps Minho and take down WICKED."

Thomas grits his teeth. "Talk. You said it yourself—you know the dangers, you know why you can't just rampage into the city with us. You know better to jump into something so stupid."

"Stupid?" Newt repeats, incredulous. He moves to stand but Thomas pushes him back down, and it makes the flame in Newt's eyes burn brighter. "You of all people don't get to call me that, you bloody hypocrite. How many times have you jumped headfirst into danger without talking to any of us about it? Saving Alby and Minho in the Glade, following Aris in the WICKED compound. And, what, the minute I try to do even a fraction of that, you get all pissy at me?"

"That's different!" Thomas realizes, belatedly, that he's half-yelling. "You know why it's different. I didn't have the Flare, I wasn't sick and getting worse by the minute. You going to the Last City is suicide, Newt."

"Then why did you let me help during the interrogation if you're so sure I was going to be such a nuisance?"

His mouth drops open, bewildered. "I didn't say you were! You helped during the interrogation because it's Teresa—she knows me, she knows us—" Newt scoffs and rolls his eyes, and it's such a petty move that it fills Thomas' veins with thunder. He grabs his shoulders and shakes roughly. "What the hell is your problem?"

Thomas is livid, seething with rage. But above all else, he's shaken. Newt has never been so hostile, so reluctant to see logic. He tries peering at Newt's face, to try and read between the lines that he knows better than his own, but Newt tilts his head away from him.

Is it the Flare? Is it something else?

Is it both?

"You want to know what my problem is?" Newt says, still not looking at Thomas, expression excruciatingly blank. "My problem is that you don't trust me."

Nothing. Nothing could have prepared Thomas for that.

Letting his hands slip, he stumbles backwards like he took a blow to the gut. An uncontrollable laugh slips out of his lips, mildly hysterical. "What?" he manages.

"You bloody well heard me." Newt stands, approaching Thomas step by step with a certainty that makes his skin crawl. "You don't want me there, ruining this operation. You think I'll get in the way. You think I'll Crank out in the middle of it, or attack you halfway through and you have to carry me out of there."

Thomas refuses to take a step back, letting Newt invade his personal space. "You know that's not true," he says, voice hard.

"It's true." Newt's eyes are wild, black, darting all over the place. With every breath he takes, his black veins pulsate in time in a sickening rhythm. "It's true. Say it's true. Say I'll ruin it for everyone."

"No."

"Say it, Thomas."

"Fuck off. No."

Thomas feels it before he sees it. A sudden blow to his jaw, his head jerks sharply to the side as he loses his footing for a moment. Newt stands in front of him, hands still curled in a tight, shaking fist. Apparently, he isn't done yet.

"Say it!" Newt screams, and the sound makes Thomas recoil more than the punch did. "If you don't say it, I'm going, with or without you!"

Thomas doesn’t answer, instead he lets his instincts take over. He connects his fist to Newt’s cheek, feels the bone underneath his knuckles. Newt topples over, lithe body hitting the ground hard. Blond hair blocking his eyes and black lines polluting his neck, he doesn't move for a brief, horrifying half a second.

Time slows down. In that moment, Thomas sees the future: Newt, dead, splayed out on the ground. Or maybe Newt, a Crank, haggard and vicious and stripped of everything that makes him so, so lovely. In both possibilities, he knows, he just knows, that Thomas would be the one to put him in the ground, because he would never let anyone else touch Newt. It would have to be him.

Unable to control himself, Thomas lurches forward to the fountain and vomits, heaving and shaking uncontrollably, the urge to scrub that image from his brain almost unbearable.

A hand grabs his jacket and roughly pulls him back. Thomas lets it happen, his back hitting the grass hard enough to wind him.

Newt clambers on top of him, hand placed on either side of Thomas' head, teeth bared and nearly snarling. "I'm going to the city."

"You can't," Thomas mummers, thoughts still jumbled. "You can't, Newt. You'll die."

Slamming his hand down, Newt grips either side of his face, thumb cruelly pushing into his throbbing jaw where the punch landed. "You don't get to take this choice away from me. Over and over again, you ruin things for me, for everyone. We could still be in the Glade, we could still be safe and ignorant in the facility, if it weren't for you. Minho would still be here if it wasn't for you. You don't want me to die? Maybe consider the fact that it's you who's killing me."

The words glance off of him. Instead, Thomas stares up at Newt, eyes carefully taking in every detail there. Past the ferocity, past the seemingly impenetrable anger and dripping hostility, there's something in his expression that's screaming at Thomas to be noticed. There's something layered there, begging to be found, subtle and invisible to anyone who isn't him.

"Make it up to me, Thomas. Make it up to me by giving me a choice." Newt's chest is heaving, leaving Thomas space to say something. When he doesn't, Newt's face twists even more. "What, no comment? No clever words today? Aren't you the inspiration between the two of us? The fucking wonder boy?"

A hot tear rolls down Thomas' temple, sudden and uncontrollable. It's as if his body figured out what's going in Newt's head before Thomas himself did.

Newt, eyes black with fury, digs his nails in with a vengeance, but Thomas can barely process the pain, his entire being staring intently at Newt’s face. “Give me a choice. Let me do this. If you care for me, if you ever gave a damn about me, respected me as a person and respected me as yours, you’d grant me this.” With every word he hisses, Newt squeezes tighter, and Thomas doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t dare breathe. “Grant. Me. This.”

Then I went and found the tallest wall I could, and I climbed up there and—

It clicks.

When Thomas finally speaks, it feels like his heart is in his throat. It feels like the world is ending. “You’re not planning on coming back.”

For a long, long moment, neither of them say a word. A strong breeze ruffles Newt’s hair like a caress.

Newt leans back and sucks in a deep, shaking breath. His shoulders sag in on himself, and the tight grip on Thomas’ face eases until the pain fades away, replaced by Newt’s thumb gently stroking what he’s sure is a glowing bruise on his jaw. The symptoms had passed, for now.

Thomas swallows, ribcage creaking with swirling, conflicting emotions. Slowly, carefully, Thomas sits up until he’s chest to chest with Newt and pulls him in for a hug. Arms encircle his waist and holds him tight, then tighter. Tight enough that it feels like nothing can get between them. Tight enough that it feels like if Newt’s heart stopped beating, Thomas’ would, too.

—

“The Flare didn’t make that up, did it?”

They’re both leaning against the fountain, the clean side. Cleaner side—the side that Thomas didn’t throw up in. Sitting on the ground, they’re shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, sharing whatever’s left of the trail mix that stayed miraculously sealed in Thomas’ pocket. Like this, he feels a wave of nostalgia, a wistfulness for the bonfire back in the Glade. It’s almost silly, feeling homesick for a place you lived in for all of a week. Can barely even call it a home.

Newt considers his question and Thomas immediately diverts his attention to ripping up the grass underneath them, vaguely enjoying the sensation. These talks always work best when Newt can pretend Thomas is busy doing something else.

“Some of it,” Newt admits. “At least, I’d like to think some of that wasn’t me.” From the corner of his eye, he sees Newt’s gaze flicker at Thomas, no doubt taking in the bruise that’s still blossoming there.

He shrugs, unbothered. Thomas taps at his own eye before nodding at Newt. “Gave you a black eye, in case you forgot. And between the two of us, at least you actually have an excuse to go a little crazy.”

“You’ve always been a little crazy.”

“For you, maybe.” And just to seal the deal, he winks at Newt, poorly.

As he suspected he would, Newt reels back in shock for a moment before laughter bursts out of him. Eyes crinkled and shoulders shaking, he feels himself laugh back a little, on reflex. “There you are,” Thomas says softly. “Welcome back.”

Newt grins back, the remnants of his joy still strewn across his face, stubborn and sticky like honey. “Didn’t peg you as a flirt, Tommy.”

Tilting his head up skywards, Thomas hums, enjoying the sight of a clear, night sky as he lets relief wash over him. “I’m glad I have my Tommy privileges back.”

It was supposed to come out as a joke, but it comes out more vulnerable than Thomas intended. He can’t help it. Back in the Maze, everything was taken away from him, from all of them. The only thing you get back is your name. Every Glader remembers that feeling for the rest of their life. It’s a fierce thing, to be reconciled with a name that you’ve lost when you don’t have anything left. It’s the only thing that’s truly yours.

When Newt called him Tommy for the first time, in that casual way of his, it meant everything to Thomas. It’s taking what’s Thomas’ and making it distinctly Newt’s. It made Thomas distinctly Newt’s.

He knows Newt heard the sting in his voice. Silence blankets them, thick and weighted.

This fight was hideous. Brutally ugly. It’s the kind of argument that Thomas would expect to have with Gally, or Alby back in the day. Hackles rising, knives out styles of confrontations that Thomas had grown used to. A necessary kind of viciousness you have to emulate. But not with Newt. Never with Newt.

If this was any other situation, either of them would have their weapons down by now. Waved a white flag. Not this time.

Not knowing what to do with his hands, he peers into the bag of near-empty bag of trail mix and spots a peanut still in its shell. Pulling it out, he cracks it open and offers it to Newt, who accepts with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas says, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice. Not then, not now.”

Newt sighs, rebuttal surely about to come out, but Thomas shakes his head. “Please. Just let me—I have to get this out.” Straightening up, he fully turns to face Newt, unable to stop himself from glimpsing at his black eye before focusing. “Again and again, you’re here for me. You know my moods, you know how I function, you know what makes me stop functioning. And I thought,” his voice cracks, and he falters for a moment. “I thought I knew you, too.”

“Of course you do,” Newt reaches for his hand, and Thomas takes it gratefully. “Better than anyone.”

“When we were on the rooftop, and you told me about your leg, I convinced myself I couldn’t do anything about it.” He traces the callouses on Newt’s hand absentmindedly. “‘I wasn’t there. What could I have done? I’m here now. I’ll help him now.’ But the worst thought, the fucking worst one of them all,” Thomas’ mouth twists bitterly. “I thought: ‘It’s in the past.’”

“It is,” Newt insists, but it comes out weak. Hollow. A beat passes. “I thought it was in the past, too. I think the Flare must’ve pulled that out of my psyche or something, honestly.” He laughs, the sound brittle. “Like a bloody truth serum now? As if this couldn’t get worse.”

A question enters his brain. It’s one he doesn’t want to consider, a question he can’t fathom voicing. But it’s for Newt. “Do—” he tries, throat closing up. “Do you still want to…to try finding—a tall wall—?”

“No,” Newt interrupts firmly. “God, no, Tommy, no. Not anymore. It’s different now. Sure, it gets hard, but it’s always been hard. No time for breaks. We get lazy—”

“We get sad,” finishes Thomas, a small fraction of his worries fading away. “I remember.”

Newt’s eyes brighten with mirth. “My bright pupil, you are.”

Silence stretches once more, and Thomas passes the time by playing with the peanut shell in the hand that isn’t holding Newt’s, nail scratching against the rough shell, before shoving it in his pocket, not wanting to litter.

It’s not that he’s surprised that Newt is self-sacrificing. They all are. It’s impossible to be so devoted to this cause without eventually realizing that you’d do anything to make sure the mission’s completed. What doesn’t settle well with Thomas is that Newt sees that there are options. Newt, I’ve called a Gathering to see what the others think. Newt, patience, Greenie, it would do you some good. Newt, slow down, Tommy. What are we not seeing?

Time and again, Newt is the one to take a step back and see the bigger picture. He has the disposition of a leader, the ability to make the calls without panicking. There’s a reason why people gravitate to him the way that they do.

But all of that is thrown out the window when it’s about Newt himself.

Newt takes a breath. “I just think,” he says, slowly, like he’s thinking about every word before speaking. “That I should go to the city because it would increase our odds of success.”

Oddly enough, Thomas is almost glad that they blew up at each other earlier. Otherwise, he’s sure he would probably be yelling at the top of his lungs again. As it is, Thomas’ head has been clearer than it's been in awhile. “Well, I for one think that if we saved Minho and took down the entire WICKED organization, but you Cranked out or died, it would be the opposite of a success.”

“Do you really think that? That if we saved dozens of kids and took down the evil bastards, but you lost me, that it wouldn’t be worth it?”

Thomas steadily meets his gaze. “What about if it was me instead of you?”

Something dark flashes in Newt’s eyes, and he turns away. “Noted,” he concedes, jaw clenched. “But on that note, Tommy, you also have to consider that I think I’ll lose my fucking mind if you leave me a on a berg when you’re taking down said WICKED organization.”

“You don’t have to be on a berg,” he argues. “You can be…with Lawrence.” They both turn to each other with a grimace. “Okay, scratch that. But there’s something else you can do.”

Newt taps his chin, faux considering. “Yeah, I think so too. Like letting me go with you into the city.”

Thomas tightens his hold on Newt’s hand. “Newt, please.”

“Tommy,” he warns. “Come on. You have to work with me here. You know you can’t keep me here. I’m not throwing punches this time around, but I’m putting my bloody foot down on this one, you hear me?”

“A compromise?” he attempts, desperately.

“Does this compromise involve keeping me out of the Last City?” When Thomas doesn’t answer, Newt shrugs. “Then I’m not hearing it. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

It’s like the walls are getting tighter and tighter, the open sky suddenly crashing down on Thomas. He knows Newt’s expression—his mouth quirked like he’s slightly amused but the glint in his eyes is saying that Thomas is fighting a losing battle.

Thomas gets up on his knees and scoots over until he’s in front of a surprised Newt. Taking Newt’s hand in both of his own, he buries his face into his wrists, right along where black veins only seem to grow dark and darker. Head bowed and eyes clenched tight, he’s fully aware of how supplicant he looks. “Newt. You can’t die.”

“It’s not like I’m planning on it—”

“No. You can’t die.” Thomas presses his cheek tighter against Newt’s wrists, like he can physically stop him from going. “There’s no point to this if you die. There’s no point to me betraying WICKED and helping the Right Arm, no point to losing anyone in the Maze, no point to any of us being here. I need you to know that. It won’t be an inconvenience to me if you’re gone—it would be the absolute, fucking worst case scenario.”

The image of Newt, Cranked out and dead, unbiddenly comes to the forefront of his mind once more. “If you go, and you turn into a Crank, and I have to kill you—” Bile rises in his throat, but he swallows it down. “If my hands are stained with your blood, I’ll make sure the last thing I do is put a gun to my head. Do you understand that?”

A beat. Then long, elegant fingers pull Thomas’ chin upwards. Newt’s expression is ashen, and for the first time, hesitation laces his features. “I understand,” he mutters. “I understand. But what you have to understand, love, is that I don’t trust anyone else to take care of you out there.”

It crumbles. It all crumbles. Any argument in Thomas’ throat shrivels up and dies. It feels a lot like seeing the Maze for the first time, the way the helicopter pulls up higher and higher until Thomas is forced to see the bigger picture, the reality of the situation.

Because the same way Thomas would move mountains to prevent any harm from befalling Newt, it will be a cold, cold day in hell before Newt would let Thomas suffer.

Newt can’t be convinced. Not when Thomas’ safety is involved.

“Are you sure this decision isn’t because of the Flare?” he insists in a desperate, last ditch attempt to try and sway him. “You know I fucking hate when people use that on you, but—”

"Tommy," Hands grab his face and Newt shakes him, just a little, like he can’t bear to be rougher to him than he is now. Like he knows how much this hurts Thomas and can’t bring himself to add to that hurt. "I'm looking at you, see? I'm looking."

Thomas sucks in a breath and holds it, willing himself not to break. When he breathes out, a gust of wind blows with him, and it threatens to shatter him into a million pieces. Instead, he focuses on how Newt holds him with such a tenderness, such a surety, that Thomas can’t possibly fall apart. The Glue, WICKED had called him, not knowing the sheer truth of that statement.

“Okay.” Thomas relents, nodding to himself. “Okay. You’re going.” Placing his hand on top of Newt’s for a moment, he pulls away to stand. “You’re going, but that compromise I mentioned? That’s fucking happening.”

“Oh, is it now?” Newt retorts, but Thomas is only half-listening.

He jogs back into the building, Thomas scoops up the fallen notebook off the floor when someone coughs to his right.

“Dinner in twenty,” Gally greets tonelessly, peering at Thomas’ face, probably clocking his swollen jaw. “Don’t be late. Fry’ll kill you.”

Thomas throws him a thumbs up without looking, almost running back out, letting the door slam shut behind him.

“Compromise,” he repeats, flopping back down beside Newt and clicking his pen, shifts so that the rim of the fountain isn’t digging into his spine. “What’re your non-negotiables?”

Newt straightens up, brows scrunching ever so slightly. His business face. “No staying on the Berg, for starters,” he scoffs. “I have to be in the city. I have to be with you the whole time.”

As he lists it out, Thomas diligently writes notes, splitting the page into two columns, one for each of them. “The whole time?”

“Whole bloody time.”

He clicks his tongue but writes it down anyway. “For me—”

“Give me the book. I want to make sure you’re not putting random shit in there.”

“Try to actually make your writing legible this time, Newt.”

“Quiet down and get to talking, yeah?”

It’s familiar, the rhythm that they naturally fall into. Sharing each other’s personal space as they take turns writing, discussing how to morph the situation into something they’re more or less comfortable with.

Less, Thomas says. Definitely less.

Come on, Mr. Compromise. Wasn’t this your big idea?

There’s disagreements, inevitable clashing of ideas, many crossed out proposals on the page, but they work it out. They play a classic speed-round of what if? A game where they have two minutes to list out everything that can go wrong, and they take turns giving possible solutions. Some concerns are so ridiculous that it makes the both of them double over with laughter, but some solutions end up being strokes of accidental genius.

Newt, despite being the taller one, leans down to rest his head on Thomas’ shoulder. From then on, he tries very, very hard not to move too much.

Once they finish, they both straighten up after leaning over for so long, stretching out their limbs as they peer over their work. Their handwriting scattered throughout the pages—Thomas’s incoherent scrawl and Newt’s slanted cursive. It does something to him, seeing their shared thoughts and proof of their wavelength on something tangible. A good chunk of the pages have been filled, the earliest pages basically indecipherable but as they flip through the pages, it becomes neater and more organized, until the final draft is polished enough that even Thomas can’t help but be impressed at how much they covered in a short amount of time.

Newt massages his leg, groaning. “I’m actually starving now. A whole new level of hunger. Can you believe that man? We just restructured our entire infiltration plan and he’s still cooking?”

“You know,” Thomas says, standing, working out the kinks in his neck with one hand and offering the other to Newt. “Maybe if you asked the first time, we wouldn’t have beaten each other up.”

“Oh, slim it.” Newt takes his hand and pulls himself up. “That was some good work we just did.”

Thomas doesn’t answer. Instead, he lets his fingertips trace Newt’s wrist until he feels the faint thrum of a pulse. He feels it beat once, twice, three times. Just to make sure. “You’re going to try,” he says, a statement rather than a question. “You’re going to try your damnest.”

Newt rolls his eyes. “We talked about this. Of course I will.”

“If there’s a chance that you can finish the mission, but you end up sacrificing yourself, you’ll say no?”

For the briefest moment, Newt hesitates. Thomas doesn’t dare blink. “I’ll say no.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, Tommy.”

He nods, the movement jerky. “I know I’m insane right now. Or, lately. In general, I’m just—”

“A bloody lunatic?” Newt offers dryly.

“Yeah, exactly, and you knew that already. But if anything happened to you, I’d be—” A danger to everyone around him. Shattered to the point of no return. Begging to be put out of his misery. “—not okay.”

While he speaks, he watches Newt’s expression grow fonder and fonder. Twisting his hand, Newt shifts until they both feel each other’s pulses, feeling how they beat in time with one another. “I have an inkling that you don’t know how—”

He cuts himself off when Frypan yells, loud enough to be heard from every corner of the premises: “Dinner for you ugly bastards! Ugly bastards, dinner time!”

Newt huffs out a laugh and drags Thomas back into the chapel. “Come on, Tommy. Can’t take down evil on an empty stomach and peanuts, now can we?”

Thomas lets himself be dragged along, still thinking, still planning. Arguing against Newt is a losing game, but he can make sure he’s as bubble wrapped as possible going in. Schematics and contingency plans float through his head, flipping through ideas over and over again. He knows

It never fails to send Thomas reeling, whenever it happens.

It happened a lot when they were in the Glade, sure. They got along well, very well, even when Thomas had just freshly popped out of the Box and could barely catch his breath with the speed of questions leaving his mouth. But he and Newt weren't aligned yet, not the way they are now. Back in the Maze, it was more political than anything, a system of governing that both of them had to heed. Power structures, hierarchy, Greenie this, Keeper that, order, order, order.

Out of the walls and into the Scorch, the two of them snapped into place. There was no room for hesitation, not when it was just Newt and Thomas (and Minho. They have to save Minho, now). All structure gone, they could only rely on each other to lead a group of terrified teenagers through a desert, Cranks, and a staggering bounty on each of their heads. There were so few of them left, dwindling by the day, that they couldn't afford to slip up. Communication above all else. Minimize mistakes, but when they happen (and they will happen, god will they happen), talk about it. Figure it out. Make sure it doesn't happen again.

Neither of us goes to sleep confused, you hear me? If there's one thing we can control in this hell, it's this. Good that, Tommy?

Long conversations couldn't stay long, not with how fast everything moves around them. So it was something they refined, polished until it was shining.

They learned how they ebb and flow, memorized each other's landmines and remembered not to step on them unless they had to. Learned each other's nervous ticks, every twitch, every frown, what sets the other off and what's a surefire way to de-escalate the situation. They found themselves not needing much to get their point across; a breath, a few words, a pat on the back, a clenched jaw, the quirk of a brow. It was beautifully efficient for them and annoyingly grating for everyone else.

Like this, it was laughable to even try and hide the fondness they had for each other, not when it showed in their every move, every action, every breath.

Once they sorted that out, though, their wavelengths only became steadier, impossibly solid—seemingly parallel lines merged to become one, harmonizing in a frequency only they could hear, a language only they could speak.

Their foundation is something that's second nature to Thomas now, a structure that gives him good footing and the confidence to surge forward, letting him hold his head up high. If he has anything, he has this.

Until he doesn't.

Frypan grips his spatula like an instrument of war. “Hell no. You know my rules."

"But I just saw Gally leave with a sandwich."

"Yeah, I didn't feed that bastard for six months and look where he ended up. With some wacky military cult group who wants to take down the government. He gets to have a snack from me, just once."

Thomas sighs, just a little. "Come on, man, I'm starving."

"And what do you think I'm doing right now? Gardening?" Frypan jerks his head at the portable stove with a stock-pot bubbling on top. His tone leaves no room for argument, an assertiveness that only fully materializes in a kitchen. "Dinner's ready in an hour. A little wait won't kill you."

He fights another sigh, remembering how it was Frypan himself who used to sneak extra skewers for him back in the Glade.

It's not that he particularly likes it that people have a different attitude about him nowadays. He's grown to expect the expressions of the people around him, the range of irritated to pitiful. In truth, he knows where they're coming from. He's always been abrasive, but ever since he found out about Newt, it's gotten out of control. Thomas' temper is parabolic enough to be comparable to the Flare; he's snappish and intransigent, a complete nuisance to work with. He's fully aware that he's become borderline unbearable—the interrogation with Teresa only solidified that.

But despite everything, they still put up with it. They love him, he's their friend, yes. But the real reason they put up with it is because they understand why he's turned into this.

Thomas turns around to leave, resigned, when he hears Frypan click his tongue. "Hey." Looking back, he just barely catches a bag of trail mix tossed his way. "Share that with your boy, okay? Don't go ruining dinner just because y'all are spoiling your appetites."

Because everyone loves Newt, some of them longer than even Thomas has. While Thomas may be the loudest to voice it, may be the one who'll always take it too far, every single one of them are doing what they can to help Newt.

Thomas doesn't quite smile, but it’s a near thing. "Thanks, Fry."

"Anytime. Now get."

Newt's waiting for him just outside the kitchen, leaning against the wall, eyeing the bag. "That's not the sandwich I was promised," he says, but takes it out of Thomas' hands anyway.

"Should've been you who asked." They like you better. He pops a raisin in his mouth.

Newt gives him a look before kicking himself off the wall—an action so reminiscent of Minho it makes Thomas ache. "Now, Tommy, we have to work on that confidence of yours."

"Lots of people would beg to differ," he says, waving him off. It honestly doesn’t bother him. He likes Newt better, too.

"Depends on who you're asking." Newt shakes the bag, carefully picking out the good bits. Thomas lets him. "We probably looked real bloody confident earlier."

"Yeah," he says mildly. Thomas watches him pour the almonds back in, feeling himself start zoning out as he replays the interrogation in his head, speeded up like a faulty DVD.

Teresa's in, which is admittedly good. He and Newt talk a big game, but it would be infinitely harder to get into WICKED without her. They need to talk to Lawrence as soon as possible, make sure he doesn't back out of their deal. He also has to talk to Newt, confirm that he's comfortable flying the Berg out with Jorge. All of this is already written down in his leather notebook, written and re-written enough that he can recite it from memory, but it doesn't hurt to think it through one more time.

Without warning, Newt slaps his bicep, pulling him out of his stupor. "I can see those wheels spinning," he chides. "What's in that big head of yours?"

"Nothing." When he receives a dry look, he takes a deep breath. "Nothing yet. I'm just thinking about our next steps."

"Let me guess," Newt throws some cashews in his mouth. "You want to bust into The Last City tonight, have the infiltration take only half an hour long, and have the Flare out of my body in an hour, tops. Sound about right?"

Thomas huffs. "An hour's too long, can we make some edits on that?" Still, he can't help but let his eyes drift towards Newt's forearm. "I want that thing out of you, Newt."

"You and me both, love," Newt mumbles, chewing, deep in thought, and Thomas has to turn away to hide a pleased smile. "It's a lot to worry about. So many players involved in this, stakes are high. Teresa's only the first step."

Taking a deep breath, Newt pushes his shoulders back and starts walking in the direction of their meeting room. Thomas follows close behind.

"Here's what we're going to do," he declares, passing the half-empty bag to Thomas. Their shared footsteps are silent, a habit they fostered in this new life of theirs. Gone are the times in the Glade when they can stomp around all they like. "You and I are gonna work this out, like we always do. Every nook and cranny, every little detail your overthinking brain can think of, we're nailing down. Make this thing airtight before we bust in there, guns blazing and hell raising. Make a plan so good it'll put all of our other plans to shame. Then you're going to your little cot and sleep eight hours straight, snoring loud enough to ruin the night for the rest of us. Good that?"

Something fierce and reverent squirms in Thomas, and an easy agreement is on the tip of his tongue when something makes him stop in his tracks, feet stuttering to a halt.

Newt walks a few steps further before noticing. He turns around, brow cocked. "What's up?"

"We?"

That makes Newt's face scrunch up even more. "Well, if you wanna talk to Gally about this instead, be my guest. Or better yet, invite Teresa, why don't you?"

Thomas doesn't laugh. "We bust in," he repeats, heartbeat in his throat. "That's what you said."

The confusion melts off of Newt's face, caution taking its place. "Yes," he says slowly. "That's what I said."

A silence grows between them, and Thomas is waiting for Newt to say he's joking, that he's just trying to pull a smile out of Thomas. Instead, the silence stretches.

"Newt," he says quietly. "You aren't coming into the city."

Newt's shaking his head before Thomas can finish. "We talked about this, on the rooftop—"

"No, that was different. You wanted to help with the missions, and you have been. You wanted to help find Minho, and you did. You've already done enough."

"Done enough?" His expression is unimpressed. "Well enough that Minho's here now? Well enough that all the Immunes are magically saved? I don't think so, Tommy. We're not done here, not even close. I'm going out there."

Thomas forces himself to take a breath. "The Flare gets worse the more stressful a situation is. Here, let me—" Wildly patting down his jeans, he all but rips his notebook out of his pocket and flips through the pages, ignoring the tremble in his hands. "There, see? 'If individuals infected with the Flare are in constant stress—"

"I know."

"'—it can rapidly increase the— "

"—infection rate of the brain,'" Newt finishes, idly touching his forearm. "I know."

Thomas lets the book fall from his hand with a muffled thud and doesn’t bother to pick it up again. "Okay," he hears himself say. "You know. So you're not going."

Newt takes a step forward, placatingly eyeing him in a way that makes Thomas' chest tight. "Tommy, I'm going. This doesn't work if—"

"We'll make it work."

"You're not listening to me. If you go into WICKED, just you and—"

"We'll make Gally stay with me the whole way. Frypan. Jorge. If you're staying here—"

"Which I'm not, and you're going to have to accept—"

"You're not going—"

"Thomas," his voice is dangerously soft. Thomas flinches away, something vile curling in his gut, the sound of his own name making him sick. "Listen to me. I'm fucking going."

Thomas' eyes shutter close. It feels like his mind shutting down, cortex by cortex as he fails to understand what Newt’s trying to say. For a blissful moment, he’s deafened by the ringing in his ears and the beat of his thrumming heart.

When he finally opens his eyes, all he sees is red.

Grabbing Newt’s jacket collar, he all but drags him out the closest door, taking them to the chapel’s courtyard, unfeeling the cool night air brush against his skin. What was probably once a beautiful garden is practically a garbage dump now. Broken glass is sprinkled on top of dead rose bushes, plastic bags swaying in the breeze. There’s a fountain in the middle, its ceramic cracked and caked in dirt, filled with debris that’s accumulated over the years to the point where it spilled onto the grass beneath their feet.

Thomas doesn’t give a shit about any of it. He drops Newt on the lip of the fountain, almost throwing him in from the force of it.

"Communication, right?" he spits, looming above Newt, and he hates this, hates it so much but he has to pull Newt out of whatever mindset he's buried himself in. It's one thing to raze the world to save Newt—it's another for Newt to be the one to get in his way. "Then fucking talk. Convince me to let you turn into a Crank."

Newt's glaring daggers up at him, and it would normally be enough to sway Thomas. He steels himself and refuses to look away. Not this time.

"Don't you toss me around like I’m some damn shank," Newt says lowly, eyes narrowed. "And you're not letting me do anything. I'll do what I damn well please if it helps Minho and take down WICKED."

Thomas grits his teeth. "Talk. You said it yourself—you know the dangers, you know why you can't just rampage into the city with us. You know better to jump into something so stupid."

"Stupid?" Newt repeats, incredulous. He moves to stand but Thomas pushes him back down, and it makes the flame in Newt's eyes burn brighter. "You of all people don't get to call me that, you bloody hypocrite. How many times have you jumped headfirst into danger without talking to any of us about it? Saving Alby and Minho in the Glade, following Aris in the WICKED compound. And, what, the minute I try to do even a fraction of that, you get all pissy at me?"

"That's different!" Thomas realizes, belatedly, that he's half-yelling. "You know why it's different. I didn't have the Flare, I wasn't sick and getting worse by the minute. You going to the Last City is suicide, Newt."

"Then why did you let me help during the interrogation if you're so sure I was going to be such a nuisance?"

His mouth drops open, bewildered. "I didn't say you were! You helped during the interrogation because it's Teresa—she knows me, she knows us—" Newt scoffs and rolls his eyes, and it's such a petty move that it fills Thomas' veins with thunder. He grabs his shoulders and shakes roughly. "What the hell is your problem?"

Thomas is livid, seething with rage. But above all else, he's shaken. Newt has never been so hostile, so reluctant to see logic. He tries peering at Newt's face, to try and read between the lines that he knows better than his own, but Newt tilts his head away from him.

Is it the Flare? Is it something else?

Is it both?

"You want to know what my problem is?" Newt says, still not looking at Thomas, expression excruciatingly blank. "My problem is that you don't trust me."

Nothing. Nothing could have prepared Thomas for that.

Letting his hands slip, he stumbles backwards like he took a blow to the gut. An uncontrollable laugh slips out of his lips, mildly hysterical. "What?" he manages.

"You bloody well heard me." Newt stands, approaching Thomas step by step with a certainty that makes his skin crawl. "You don't want me there, ruining this operation. You think I'll get in the way. You think I'll Crank out in the middle of it, or attack you halfway through and you have to carry me out of there."

Thomas refuses to take a step back, letting Newt invade his personal space. "You know that's not true," he says, voice hard.

"It's true." Newt's eyes are wild, black, darting all over the place. With every breath he takes, his black veins pulsate in time in a sickening rhythm. "It's true. Say it's true. Say I'll ruin it for everyone."

"No."

"Say it, Thomas."

"Fuck off. No."

Thomas feels it before he sees it. A sudden blow to his jaw, his head jerks sharply to the side as he loses his footing for a moment. Newt stands in front of him, hands still curled in a tight, shaking fist. Apparently, he isn't done yet.

"Say it!" Newt screams, and the sound makes Thomas recoil more than the punch did. "If you don't say it, I'm going, with or without you!"

Thomas doesn’t answer, instead he lets his instincts take over. He connects his fist to Newt’s cheek, feels the bone underneath his knuckles. Newt topples over, lithe body hitting the ground hard. Blond hair blocking his eyes and black lines polluting his neck, he doesn't move for a brief, horrifying half a second.

Time slows down. In that moment, Thomas sees the future: Newt, dead, splayed out on the ground. Or maybe Newt, a Crank, haggard and vicious and stripped of everything that makes him so, so lovely. In both possibilities, he knows, he just knows, that Thomas would be the one to put him in the ground, because he would never let anyone else touch Newt. It would have to be him.

Unable to control himself, Thomas lurches forward to the fountain and vomits, heaving and shaking uncontrollably, the urge to scrub that image from his brain almost unbearable.

A hand grabs his jacket and roughly pulls him back. Thomas lets it happen, his back hitting the grass hard enough to wind him.

Newt clambers on top of him, hand placed on either side of Thomas' head, teeth bared and nearly snarling. "I'm going to the city."

"You can't," Thomas mummers, thoughts still jumbled. "You can't, Newt. You'll die."

Slamming his hand down, Newt grips either side of his face, thumb cruelly pushing into his throbbing jaw where the punch landed. "You don't get to take this choice away from me. Over and over again, you ruin things for me, for everyone. We could still be in the Glade, we could still be safe and ignorant in the facility, if it weren't for you. Minho would still be here if it wasn't for you. You don't want me to die? Maybe consider the fact that it's you who's killing me."

The words glance off of him. Instead, Thomas stares up at Newt, eyes carefully taking in every detail there. Past the ferocity, past the seemingly impenetrable anger and dripping hostility, there's something in his expression that's screaming at Thomas to be noticed. There's something layered there, begging to be found, subtle and invisible to anyone who isn't him.

"Make it up to me, Thomas. Make it up to me by giving me a choice." Newt's chest is heaving, leaving Thomas space to say something. When he doesn't, Newt's face twists even more. "What, no comment? No clever words today? Aren't you the inspiration between the two of us? The fucking wonder boy?"

A hot tear rolls down Thomas' temple, sudden and uncontrollable. It's as if his body figured out what's going in Newt's head before Thomas himself did.

Newt, eyes black with fury, digs his nails in with a vengeance, but Thomas can barely process the pain, his entire being staring intently at Newt’s face. “Give me a choice. Let me do this. If you care for me, if you ever gave a damn about me, respected me as a person and respected me as yours, you’d grant me this.” With every word he hisses, Newt squeezes tighter, and Thomas doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t dare breathe. “Grant. Me. This.”

Then I went and found the tallest wall I could, and I climbed up there and—

It clicks.

When Thomas finally speaks, it feels like his heart is in his throat. It feels like the world is ending. “You’re not planning on coming back.”

For a long, long moment, neither of them say a word. A strong breeze ruffles Newt’s hair like a caress.

Newt leans back and sucks in a deep, shaking breath. His shoulders sag in on himself, and the tight grip on Thomas’ face eases until the pain fades away, replaced by Newt’s thumb gently stroking what he’s sure is a glowing bruise on his jaw. The symptoms had passed, for now.

Thomas swallows, ribcage creaking with swirling, conflicting emotions. Slowly, carefully, Thomas sits up until he’s chest to chest with Newt and pulls him in for a hug. Arms encircle his waist and holds him tight, then tighter. Tight enough that it feels like nothing can get between them. Tight enough that it feels like if Newt’s heart stopped beating, Thomas’ would, too.

“The Flare didn’t make that up, did it?”

They’re both leaning against the fountain, the clean side. Cleaner side—the side that Thomas didn’t throw up in. Sitting on the ground, they’re shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, sharing whatever’s left of the trail mix that stayed miraculously sealed in Thomas’ pocket. Like this, he feels a wave of nostalgia, a wistfulness for the bonfire back in the Glade. It’s almost silly, feeling homesick for a place you lived in for all of a week. Can barely even call it a home.

Newt considers his question and Thomas immediately diverts his attention to ripping up the grass underneath them, vaguely enjoying the sensation. These talks always work best when Newt can pretend Thomas is busy doing something else.

“Some of it,” Newt admits. “At least, I’d like to think some of that wasn’t me.” From the corner of his eye, he sees Newt’s gaze flicker at Thomas, no doubt taking in the bruise that’s still blossoming there.

He shrugs, unbothered. Thomas taps at his own eye before nodding at Newt. “Gave you a black eye, in case you forgot. And between the two of us, at least you actually have an excuse to go a little crazy.”

“You’ve always been a little crazy.”

“For you, maybe.” And just to seal the deal, he winks at Newt, poorly.

As he suspected he would, Newt reels back in shock for a moment before laughter bursts out of him. Eyes crinkled and shoulders shaking, he feels himself laugh back a little, on reflex. “There you are,” Thomas says softly. “Welcome back.”

Newt grins back, the remnants of his joy still strewn across his face, stubborn and sticky like honey. “Didn’t peg you as a flirt, Tommy.”

Tilting his head up skywards, Thomas hums, enjoying the sight of a clear, night sky as he lets relief wash over him. “I’m glad I have my Tommy privileges back.”

It was supposed to come out as a joke, but it comes out more vulnerable than Thomas intended. He can’t help it. Back in the Maze, everything was taken away from him, from all of them. The only thing you get back is your name. Every Glader remembers that feeling for the rest of their life. It’s a fierce thing, to be reconciled with a name that you’ve lost when you don’t have anything left. It’s the only thing that’s truly yours.

When Newt called him Tommy for the first time, in that casual way of his, it meant everything to Thomas. It’s taking what’s Thomas’ and making it distinctly Newt’s. It made Thomas distinctly Newt’s.

He knows Newt heard the sting in his voice. Silence blankets them, thick and weighted.

This fight was hideous. Brutally ugly. It’s the kind of argument that Thomas would expect to have with Gally, or Alby back in the day. Hackles rising, knives out styles of confrontations that Thomas had grown used to. A necessary kind of viciousness you have to emulate. But not with Newt. Never with Newt.

If this was any other situation, either of them would have their weapons down by now. Waved a white flag. Not this time.

Not knowing what to do with his hands, he peers into the bag of near-empty bag of trail mix and spots a peanut still in its shell. Pulling it out, he cracks it open and offers it to Newt, who accepts with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas says, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice. Not then, not now.”

Newt sighs, rebuttal surely about to come out, but Thomas shakes his head. “Please. Just let me—I have to get this out.” Straightening up, he fully turns to face Newt, unable to stop himself from glimpsing at his black eye before focusing. “Again and again, you’re here for me. You know my moods, you know how I function, you know what makes me stop functioning. And I thought,” his voice cracks, and he falters for a moment. “I thought I knew you, too.”

“Of course you do,” Newt reaches for his hand, and Thomas takes it gratefully. “Better than anyone.”

“When we were on the rooftop, and you told me about your leg, I convinced myself I couldn’t do anything about it.” He traces the callouses on Newt’s hand absentmindedly. “‘I wasn’t there. What could I have done? I’m here now. I’ll help him now.’ But the worst thought, the fucking worst one of them all,” Thomas’ mouth twists bitterly. “I thought: ‘It’s in the past.’”

“It is,” Newt insists, but it comes out weak. Hollow. A beat passes. “I thought it was in the past, too. I think the Flare must’ve pulled that out of my psyche or something, honestly.” He laughs, the sound brittle. “Like a bloody truth serum now? As if this couldn’t get worse.”

A question enters his brain. It’s one he doesn’t want to consider, a question he can’t fathom voicing. But it’s for Newt. “Do—” he tries, throat closing up. “Do you still want to…to try finding—a tall wall—?”

“No,” Newt interrupts firmly. “God, no, Tommy, no. Not anymore. It’s different now. Sure, it gets hard, but it’s always been hard. No time for breaks. We get lazy—”

“We get sad,” finishes Thomas, a small fraction of his worries fading away. “I remember.”

Newt’s eyes brighten with mirth. “My bright pupil, you are.”

Silence stretches once more, and Thomas passes the time by playing with the peanut shell in the hand that isn’t holding Newt’s, nail scratching against the rough shell, before shoving it in his pocket, not wanting to litter.

It’s not that he’s surprised that Newt is self-sacrificing. They all are. It’s impossible to be so devoted to this cause without eventually realizing that you’d do anything to make sure the mission’s completed. What doesn’t settle well with Thomas is that Newt sees that there are options. Newt, I’ve called a Gathering to see what the others think. Newt, patience, Greenie, it would do you some good. Newt, slow down, Tommy. What are we not seeing?

Time and again, Newt is the one to take a step back and see the bigger picture. He has the disposition of a leader, the ability to make the calls without panicking. There’s a reason why people gravitate to him the way that they do.

But all of that is thrown out the window when it’s about Newt himself.

Newt takes a breath. “I just think,” he says, slowly, like he’s thinking about every word before speaking. “That I should go to the city because it would increase our odds of success.”

Oddly enough, Thomas is almost glad that they blew up at each other earlier. Otherwise, he’s sure he would probably be yelling at the top of his lungs again. As it is, Thomas’ head has been clearer than it's been in awhile. “Well, I for one think that if we saved Minho and took down the entire WICKED organization, but you Cranked out or died, it would be the opposite of a success.”

“Do you really think that? That if we saved dozens of kids and took down the evil bastards, but you lost me, that it wouldn’t be worth it?”

Thomas steadily meets his gaze. “What about if it was me instead of you?”

Something dark flashes in Newt’s eyes, and he turns away. “Noted,” he concedes, jaw clenched. “But on that note, Tommy, you also have to consider that I think I’ll lose my fucking mind if you leave me a on a berg when you’re taking down said WICKED organization.”

“You don’t have to be on a berg,” he argues. “You can be…with Lawrence.” They both turn to each other with a grimace. “Okay, scratch that. But there’s something else you can do.”

Newt taps his chin, faux considering. “Yeah, I think so too. Like letting me go with you into the city.”

Thomas tightens his hold on Newt’s hand. “Newt, please.”

“Tommy,” he warns. “Come on. You have to work with me here. You know you can’t keep me here. I’m not throwing punches this time around, but I’m putting my bloody foot down on this one, you hear me?”

“A compromise?” he attempts, desperately.

“Does this compromise involve keeping me out of the Last City?” When Thomas doesn’t answer, Newt shrugs. “Then I’m not hearing it. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

It’s like the walls are getting tighter and tighter, the open sky suddenly crashing down on Thomas. He knows Newt’s expression—his mouth quirked like he’s slightly amused but the glint in his eyes is saying that Thomas is fighting a losing battle.

Thomas gets up on his knees and scoots over until he’s in front of a surprised Newt. Taking Newt’s hand in both of his own, he buries his face into his wrists, right along where black veins only seem to grow dark and darker. Head bowed and eyes clenched tight, he’s fully aware of how supplicant he looks. “Newt. You can’t die.”

“It’s not like I’m planning on it—”

“No. You can’t die.” Thomas presses his cheek tighter against Newt’s wrists, like he can physically stop him from going. “There’s no point to this if you die. There’s no point to me betraying WICKED and helping the Right Arm, no point to losing anyone in the Maze, no point to any of us being here. I need you to know that. It won’t be an inconvenience to me if you’re gone—it would be the absolute, fucking worst case scenario.”

The image of Newt, Cranked out and dead, unbiddenly comes to the forefront of his mind once more. “If you go, and you turn into a Crank, and I have to kill you—” Bile rises in his throat, but he swallows it down. “If my hands are stained with your blood, I’ll make sure the last thing I do is put a gun to my head. Do you understand that?”

A beat. Then long, elegant fingers pull Thomas’ chin upwards. Newt’s expression is ashen, and for the first time, hesitation laces his features. “I understand,” he mutters. “I understand. But what you have to understand, love, is that I don’t trust anyone else to take care of you out there.”

It crumbles. It all crumbles. Any argument in Thomas’ throat shrivels up and dies. It feels a lot like seeing the Maze for the first time, the way the helicopter pulls up higher and higher until Thomas is forced to see the bigger picture, the reality of the situation.

Because the same way Thomas would move mountains to prevent any harm from befalling Newt, it will be a cold, cold day in hell before Newt would let Thomas suffer.

Newt can’t be convinced. Not when Thomas’ safety is involved.

“Are you sure this decision isn’t because of the Flare?” he insists in a desperate, last ditch attempt to try and sway him. “You know I fucking hate when people use that on you, but—”

"Tommy," Hands grab his face and Newt shakes him, just a little, like he can’t bear to be rougher to him than he is now. Like he knows how much this hurts Thomas and can’t bring himself to add to that hurt. "I'm looking at you, see? I'm looking."

Thomas sucks in a breath and holds it, willing himself not to break. When he breathes out, a gust of wind blows with him, and it threatens to shatter him into a million pieces. Instead, he focuses on how Newt holds him with such a tenderness, such a surety, that Thomas can’t possibly fall apart. The Glue, WICKED had called him, not knowing the sheer truth of that statement.

“Okay.” Thomas relents, nodding to himself. “Okay. You’re going.” Placing his hand on top of Newt’s for a moment, he pulls away to stand. “You’re going, but that compromise I mentioned? That’s fucking happening.”

“Oh, is it now?” Newt retorts, but Thomas is only half-listening.

He jogs back into the building, Thomas scoops up the fallen notebook off the floor when someone coughs to his right.

“Dinner in twenty,” Gally greets tonelessly, peering at Thomas’ face, probably clocking his swollen jaw. “Don’t be late. Fry’ll kill you.”

Thomas throws him a thumbs up without looking, almost running back out, letting the door slam shut behind him.

“Compromise,” he repeats, flopping back down beside Newt and clicking his pen, shifts so that the rim of the fountain isn’t digging into his spine. “What’re your non-negotiables?”

Newt straightens up, brows scrunching ever so slightly. His business face. “No staying on the Berg, for starters,” he scoffs. “I have to be in the city. I have to be with you the whole time.”

As he lists it out, Thomas diligently writes notes, splitting the page into two columns, one for each of them. “The whole time?”

“Whole bloody time.”

He clicks his tongue but writes it down anyway. “For me—”

“Give me the book. I want to make sure you’re not putting random shit in there.”

“Try to actually make your writing legible this time, Newt.”

“Quiet down and get to talking, yeah?”

It’s familiar, the rhythm that they naturally fall into. Sharing each other’s personal space as they take turns writing, discussing how to morph the situation into something they’re more or less comfortable with.

Less, Thomas says. Definitely less.

Come on, Mr. Compromise. Wasn’t this your big idea?

There’s disagreements, inevitable clashing of ideas, many crossed out proposals on the page, but they work it out. They play a classic speed-round of what if? A game where they have two minutes to list out everything that can go wrong, and they take turns giving possible solutions. Some concerns are so ridiculous that it makes the both of them double over with laughter, but some solutions end up being strokes of accidental genius.

Newt, despite being the taller one, leans down to rest his head on Thomas’ shoulder. From then on, he tries very, very hard not to move too much.

Once they finish, they both straighten up after leaning over for so long, stretching out their limbs as they peer over their work. Their handwriting scattered throughout the pages—Thomas’s incoherent scrawl and Newt’s slanted cursive. It does something to him, seeing their shared thoughts and proof of their wavelength on something tangible. A good chunk of the pages have been filled, the earliest pages basically indecipherable but as they flip through the pages, it becomes neater and more organized, until the final draft is polished enough that even Thomas can’t help but be impressed at how much they covered in a short amount of time.

Newt massages his leg, groaning. “I’m actually starving now. A whole new level of hunger. Can you believe that man? We just restructured our entire infiltration plan and he’s still cooking?”

“You know,” Thomas says, standing, working out the kinks in his neck with one hand and offering the other to Newt. “Maybe if you asked the first time, we wouldn’t have beaten each other up.”

“Oh, slim it.” Newt takes his hand and pulls himself up. “That was some good work we just did.”

Thomas doesn’t answer. Instead, he lets his fingertips trace Newt’s wrist until he feels the faint thrum of a pulse. He feels it beat once, twice, three times. Just to make sure. “You’re going to try,” he says, a statement rather than a question. “You’re going to try your damnest.”

Newt rolls his eyes. “We talked about this. Of course I will.”

“If there’s a chance that you can finish the mission, but you end up sacrificing yourself, you’ll say no?”

For the briefest moment, Newt hesitates. Thomas doesn’t dare blink. “I’ll say no.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, Tommy.”

He nods, the movement jerky. “I know I’m insane right now. Or, lately. In general, I’m just—”

“A bloody lunatic?” Newt offers dryly.

“Yeah, exactly, and you knew that already. But if anything happened to you, I’d be—” A danger to everyone around him. Shattered to the point of no return. Begging to be put out of his misery. “—not okay.”

While he speaks, he watches Newt’s expression grow fonder and fonder. Twisting his hand, Newt shifts until they both feel each other’s pulses, feeling how they beat in time with one another. “I have an inkling that you don’t know how—”

He cuts himself off when Frypan yells, loud enough to be heard from every corner of the premises: “Dinner for you ugly bastards! Ugly bastards, dinner time!”

Newt huffs out a laugh and drags Thomas back into the chapel. “Come on, Tommy. Can’t take down evil on an empty stomach and peanuts, now can we?”

Thomas lets himself be dragged along, still thinking, still planning. Arguing against Newt is a losing game, but he can make sure he’s as bubble wrapped as possible going in. Schematics and contingency plans float through his head, flipping through ideas over and over again. He knows he won’t get a wink of sleep from now until the infiltration is over.

He’ll rest when Newt’s safe.

he won’t get a wink of sleep from now until the infiltration is over.

He’ll rest when Newt’s safe.

[dragynkeep]

Oscar's Volume 6-onward design has echoes of one of the iconic, later designs of The Little Prince, which I believe is what people often brought up in comparisons when arguing for his allusion before, but it's not the one most are familiar with (the all-green with a yellow scarf).

I also think there's some interesting parallels to be found between Oscar's story (what little of one there's been) thus far, and the six planets The Little Prince has visited before Earth in the story. I could see the drunkard being Qrow, and the businessman or the lamplighter being James.

That being said, as with a lot in RWBY, they could have done so much more with it.

honestly the "they could've done so much more with it" is pretty much there for all of the rwby allusions because they're so bare bones, they really don't matter at the end of the day.

however, it's weird that they choose to evoke an outfit of the little prince when oscar is less of who he is: having begun the merge with ozpin into whatever they will become as time goes on. would it not have made more sense for oscar to have this type of outfit when we first meet him & then have his style transition into mirroring ozpin's as they begin the merge?

having oscar be defined by orange & green, with the green keeping him in line as an oz host & not really his own individuality, instead of yellow & green just further muddles it.

if this was something that was "planned from the beginning" of oscar's conception, then they really didn't get it across very well unfortunately & this seems to be a consistent issue in these characters.

i would love for there to be some easter eggs between them, hopefully some aus or fan rewrites can give oscar a better treatment than the canon has lmao

[lovebvni]

hey hows u? hope this ask finds u well! so I dont know where I got this feeling or even the urge to question who I am. obviously I have this name that my current parents gave me but it still doesnt sit right for example my grandmpa was adopted, my mum was also adopted along with her brother so whats to say im not adopted and dont remember it? cause if you think in the realm of celebs there is so much shit we dont know about them or even what they get up too

I asked the pendulum these questions and keep getting a yes for the ones that are like am I adopted, got a yes, is xxx my real name, got a no and now im like what the fuck... its like I get these random hunches to ask my pendulm certain questions either about me or something else, oh yeah i also asked if i was born before my actual birth year and it said yes :o

i once asked what my classmates first impressions of me where and i cant remember but it was something along the lines of they thought i was weird? ik our nationalities was never going to get along its just a given atp but now im thinking about it its genuinely bizzare af

then i think im in the completely wrong timeline too. ppl acting shady or weird towards me in ways that havent made no sense.

idk if this ask makes any sense or not but whats ur real thoughts on reality or time travel or whatever u personally call it? im watching a tiktok compilation its actually really interesting called timeline jumping stories and one lady constantly has a vivid memory of having a son in another version of her, and a second lady had a vivid memory of her being 5/10 years old etc etc with her mom in her moms bed.

also my dreams dont make no sense because it always feels like im being chased watched or followed by something or someone. just tonight i had a dream of being on a ferry like ship and i think i was younger kinda by myself in it. i dont use shifting subliminals but i use regular subliminals for current timeline stuff and its just bizzarre to me now... it makes sense to me but i if i say it to anyone else they be like get some help.

i’m sorry i have like no idea what you’re asking me but im going to answer this in the best way i can.

yes, parallel realities can merge and overlap; something that was once true can change because you shifted realities.

i believe your pendulum is right, and you can be born before you originally anticipated.

time travel, reality warping, deja vu, all of it falls under the laws of the universe.

there are so many different timelines, and everything can change in an instant.

time travel is real. reality warping is a form of reality shifting. that’s it !!

i hope i answered ur question xx

[psychopomp-namine]

the way everyone has a dislike in their profile that actually says something integral about their character. lu guang doesn't like plans getting messed up, cheng xiaoshi dislikes loneliness, xia fei with owing favors, vein with lying...

and then you have liu xiao, who dislikes... cilantro. and fish mint.

(shakes fist) (putting him in a glass jar and shaking vigorously) learn to be vulnerable!! tell me something about yourself!! I guess him liking movies lines up with the theater metaphors, and there's him liking chess, but that. doesn't count methinks

[the-spooky-children]

I think I might know what'll happen with episode 6

So, I've mentioned this before, but spooky month episodes tend to have 2 plots going on at the same time. Plot A is always what Skid and Pump are doing, and the B plot is usually to do with the other people in town, such as Lila, Kevin or the cops. These two plots always come and merge into one by the end of the episode

For example, in Unwanted Guest, the A plot is Skid and Pump buying a Happy Fella, going to the hospital, meeting the Hatzgang there, etc, whilst the B plot is Dexter being killed by Moloch and him attacking Lila, they merge when Skid and Pump walk into Skid's house and Eyes (through Pump) tells him to snap his own neck

In Deadly Smiles, the A plot is, again, S&P shenanigans, playing the knife game with Dexter and then going to the cinema, noticing the doll is missing, and then going to ask Kevin for help, and the B plot is the Happy Fella attacking the thieves, Frank and Kevin. These merge, again, when Skid and Pump enter Skid's house, and Dexter freaks out over the idea of having to spend forever with the kids

BUT. In Tender Treats, it's all to do with the cops, Jack and John. They even appear before Skid and Pump! They're the first guys we see, talking to Mayor Evermore. Maybe this means they're at almost the same level of importance as S&P in the show (I mean they're very VERY clearly parallels to the spooky kids, visually and personality wise), and they (John specifically) are starting off the cult storyline, which is the #1 most important plot point because it's the reason everything is happening, and will eventually lead to the Skiddad shit

And, who's a very close character to Jack and John that we know for a fact will have a main focus in this episode?

PATTY

I'm pretty sure the A plot will be with whatever Skid and Pump are doing with Father Gregor and then the B plot is with the cops figuring what the fuck happened to Patty, and getting in Gregor to do an exorcism, which is the point where plot A (S&P + Gregor) and plot B (Patty, Moloch, the cops) merge into one at the end of the episode

Now I just need to figure out what Kevin's gonna be doing with the 8 minutes of voiced lines he has

Maybe I'm not done with the Candy Dealer theory yet

[valleyfthdolls]

Haven't heard of Cassie possibly being the next villain before, can you tell me about it?

Yes I can!! I love this idea.

The basis for the theory of it being canon comes from the VANNI mask in Ruin. At the beginning, Cassie is given Vanny's mask from the Help Wanted Curse of Dreadbear DLC, and it implants a "transponder" whatever that is into her brain. Using this, Helpi communicates with her wirelessly even without her wearing the mask, and I believe this implant into her fucking brain is also how the VANNI mask can get "stuck" on her face using the AR inhibitors which prevent her from taking it off if activated while she is wearing the mask, as well as possibly explaining her ability to seemingly teleport while wearing the mask (idk how to explain that). At the end of Ruin, it's revealed that The Mimic has been corrupting the virtual augmentation neural network (the VANN? sure.) and luring Cassie to the ruins under the Pizzaplex to free it. At the end, Cassie gets in contact with Gregory, but the double captions and screeching of the intercom imply interference from The Mimic, who cuts the elevator cord (something Gregory, who was not at the Pizzaplex, wouldn't be able to do remotely) and sends Cassie plummeting to her presumed death.

The theory of Cassie being the next villain suggests that Cassie survived the fall, but was understandably deeply traumatized by the apparent betrayal from her friend who she had risked her own life for. As a result of this, she could become a villain to him, seeking revenge, but I think that if she survived the fall of the elevator, it's not just her own hurt that would do her in (though I do think The Mimic can best infect people who are hurt/mentally weakened), but The Mimic itself, and the implant connecting Cassie to it.

I think that since The Mimic is still "alive" and fully functional at the end of Ruin, it is likely still capable of corrupting the neural network, which, remember, Cassie is permanently hooked up to because of the implant in her brain. Now that Cassie is alone, vulnerable, traumatized and nearing death, The Mimic, who was intentionally tricking her into believing the elevator fall was Gregory's doing, can take it a step further and corrupt her brain, giving it another follower. This is probably what happened to Vanessa when it corrupted her, too, since it implies that Glitchtrap did literally infest her brain through things like Tape Girl saying Glitchtrap would "merge" with her and Fazbear Entertainment putting a disclaimer for "digital consciousness transference".

Either way, if Cassie survived, The Mimic is right outside the elevator door already repeating Roxy's voice (her line saying Cassie's name was recycled from earlier in the game) to make her inclined to trust it, so it's not looking good for her.

Funnily enough, before Ruin's release, I had speculated that Cassie had actually already been an escaped victim of this- specifically, that Cassie was Patient 46 from the tapes, having already escaped Glitchtrap once, and that the VANNI mask; the color matching of the AR world, Vanny and Glitchtrap's eyes, and Cassie's shoes; MXES not appearing to be attacking; the Cassie - Cassidy (Princess) parallels etc. in the trailer showed that Cassie had gotten roped into all of this already and that it was now trying to pull her back in.

[clutzicone-dts]

Season 5, episode 10- Curse World, Part II

OH HELLO PREEMINENT I REFUSE TO MAKE ANY JOKES REGARDING YOUR DESIGN!

Also Giant eldritch physical manifestation of the cursed realm uses she/her pronouns, how nice

Oh great she’s a hydra as well that’s wonderful

“Oh yeah Lemme just flip the switch, OH WAIT! IM NOT A NINDROID!!! I DONT HAVE A SWITCH!!” Oh yeah cuz Zane got his true potential soon after flipping his memory switch that’s cute

MISAKO YOU HOMEWRECKER

Chen! Clouse! Yippee!

GARMADON MY BELOVED YOU HAVE RETURNED!!!!

Ohhh is that why there’s that ominous heart beat in the background

“Whatever happens to me, wherever I am, I will always be with you”

“There comes a time when every boy must become a man. what sort of man… is up to him” OKAY BUT GARMADON’S REPEATED HOPE FOR LLOYD TO HAVE A SAY IN WHAT HE BECOMES? TO CHOOSE HIS OWN DESTINY?? LIKE, EVER SINCE SEASON ONE HE’S BEEN URGING LLOYD TO CHOOSE WHAT HE THINKS IS RIGHT! I CANT DEAL WITH THEM

Also i need to draw Lloyd in his father’s robes

“You think you’re better than me?! NO ONE IS BETTER THAN ME?!??!” Good lord he sounds like he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown

Underworld mention! As well as those spiders we saw in season one and two

……..they’re using houses to armor her. This show man

Oh so misako can be there for this random child BUT NOT LLOYD?

I love the exchange within that tiny house

“Have enough ghosts at your disposal and I guess you can pretty much do anything” wow okay wu

Realm of madness mention!!!

Kingdom of the clouds mention!!

This one show that I forgot the name of mention!!

Idk who these people are but if they’re canon to ninjago’s lore then there’s a small chance Lego monkie kid is canon as well

Which means

That post merge

There’s a chance

Of a canon crossover.

Fire and ice make water, this basically makes Opposite canon

Once again, Cole’s voice comes from jay, IN SEASON FIVE

Oh well there goes the paddle ships PADDLE

Oh well there goes Lloyd

Alright Nya, this is a lesson I need as well we can do this

YEAH LETS FUCKIN GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GIANT TSUNAMI TIME BABYYYYYYY LETS GOOOOOOOOOOO (let’s ignore Cole yeah?)

Creation dragon AGAIN??? Why do we only see it this season and never again:(

WHY DOES MORRO’S DEATH STILL MAKE ME SAD HOW DARE?????

I like to think lloyd was in the first realm while waiting to get picked up

Okay so, overall themes of this season:

Perseverance even when times are hard (path isn’t always a straight line and nya’s whole thing with giving up too easily)

Brotherhood (kai and lloyd, the main gang)

You need to rely on others (morro insisting he doesn’t need others, morro telling lloyd he’s alone and is nothing without others, lloyd saying at the end how happy he is to have people to rely on, etc etc) (this also ties into the brotherhood theme with how the ninja all rely on each other) (also ronin)

I also really liked the parallels between morro and Kai, morro being what Kai would have been if he continued down that path of jealousy (this was also built up last season when Kai got the staff of elements)

There’s probably other stuff I’m forgetting but oh well, I’m tired-still really love this season tho :)

ONTO SKYBOUND!! Can’t wait to watch jay go through it :)

[psychopomp-namine]

this is insane detective work. the clothes and skyline differences are making me believe that the inconsistencies ARE intentional like we want them to be, and not a result of continuity errors through human mistakes.

I also thought that yingdu arc is really just qiao ling reviewing lu guang's memories through li tianxi's ability, but this video made me realize that it's probably because of this framing that the timelines are spliced together like this. we're not seeing lu guang's memories. we're seeing qiao ling reviewing lu guang's memories.

it's possible that because lu guang tries to keep the timelines similar, it's difficult (as an outsider, like qiao ling) to separate events into proper "timelines" and easier, instead, to see similar nodes happening at the same time. it's like if your brain is categorizing events by similarity rather than chronologically. like remembering all your birthdays happening at once, instead of remembering each birthday happening one after the next. maybe this is also how lu guang organizes his memories, because to him, it's more important to rearrange nodes and control variables in a scene to force a specific outcome (i.e. cheng xiaoshi not dying)

the other possibility is that liu xiao already successfully "merged the parallel lines" or whatever it is he wants to do, but I don't think that's the case yet. that seems like a season 3 plot to me, since he's recruiting li tianchen for this plan and yingdu is a prequel.

that said, I wonder if that makes qiao ling more of an asset when he does merge the timelines together (whatever that means). lu guang relives timelines one at a time, but if this theory is correct, qiao ling is seeing all the timelines he's been in all at once. they have the same knowledge, but different perspectives, and I'd really love it if that difference could be meaningful somehow in the future

They talk about the inconsistencies between the scenes in both ep 1 and 2!