#forsake society

[khajiithaswitchywares]

Go hiking. Fake your death. Become one with the forest. Elevate to forest god. The simple things.

[spiritmaiden]

A very descriptive and detailed profile of your muse. Repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. If you fail to achieve some of the facts, add some other of your own! When you’re done, tag 15 other people to do the same!

TAGGED BY: no one! found this from an old blog heheh

————————————————————————-

NAME: zelda AGE: varies but 1000+ was 18  SPECIES: human... goddess. mortal goddess, yeah that sounds better.  GENDER: female   ORIENTATION: demi?  PROFESSION:  Professional Alarm Clock for sleepyheads. she’s also in charge with bringing the rest of skyloft to the surface and help leading people. something with leadership...

—————————————————————————- { PHYSICAL ASPECTS } BODY TYPE: it’s most certainly a body adjbhkdhb sorry i guess close to how she looks in ss where she has a small almost delicate looking build. there’s light muscle definition in her arms and abs... area thanks to swordplay and just being pretty active. she’s petite and all.  EYES: blue    SKIN:  i guess a sort of warm peach color?  yeah... HEIGHT: 160.2 and trust when I say she’s going to insist on the .2 point to seem taller (around 5′3″ for my fellow americans) WEIGHT: pls... it’s a secret to everybody  —————————————————————————- { FAMILY } .  PARENTS: owl dad gaepora   ANY PETS?: yes [ x ] the adorable mia || no [  ]   —————————————————————————- { SKILLS } PHYSICAL PROWESS: 9/10 SPEED: 10/10  MAGIC: 10000/10 INTELLIGENCE: 9/10 DEFENSE: 7/10 but 10/10 when it comes to link protecting her OFFENSE: 10/10... all in all she has cheats since she’s a literal god.  —————————————————————————- { LIKES } COLOURS: pastels because she likes warm colors, pink being a huge favorite.  SMELLS: clean linen, pumpkin soup, smell of the scrolls and ancient books in her father’s archives FOOD: pumpkin soup, any veggie based food. she can’t eat animals she feels too bad to </3 FRUITS: strawberry! apple! DRINKS:  tea! hot chocolate, and water is a given.  ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES? yes [ ] || no [ x ]  (please she’d be a light weight) 
FAVORITES: books, writing, knitting, her loftwing, friends, family, the earth itself and everything it has to offer. 

—————————————————————————- { OTHER DETAILS } SMOKES? yes [ ] || no [ x ] || Occasionally [ ] DRUGS?: yes [ ] || no [ x ] || Occasionally [  ]  DRIVER LICENSE?: yes [ ?] || no [  ] I mean she can ride her loftwing ;v;   —————————————————————————- DONE! Now tag other people: bops whoever is reading this, you’re it!!! 

[culxiaa-fn]

I have been slowly reconnecting with Nijisanji and watching clips here and there (forgot how unnecessarily funny they can be without breaking a sweat) and stumble upon this clips

Like- um okay, Sorry Ren Zotto from Nijisanji EN sixth wave, illuna, i wasn't familiar with your game.

[iaure]

𝔦 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔨, 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭

𝖞𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖒𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖊𝖑 𝖔❜𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 1: 𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔶; 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2: 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 ��𝔯𝔪𝔰, 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 4: 𝔰𝔞𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴

CW: delusion, attempted kissing, chase sequence, snitchery, thoughts of reader being a mother, vivid fears of dying, reader is temporarily locked away, reader gets hurt, SpanishDict translated Spanish.

This part switches between Miguel's POV and the Reader's. ♱ stands for the translation being at the bottom of the post. please let me know immediately if there are any errors!

Severe spoilers for Spider-Man: Across The Spider-Verse.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ we making it out of nueva york with this one !!!! maybe. there's a poll at the end to determine fundamental plot! please vote after you read and share your thoughts!! i had the she's homeless x spider-man india mashup on loop and reached a higher place of ascension.

wc: 3.8k

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

Miles Morales had escaped, run amok to another world. Jess and Ben were trying to hunt him down, but with no back history on the Go Home Machine, they were stuck playing the waiting game. Margo was working on it, but Miguel had a hunch that her heart wasn't in on it. Traitors, everywhere. And the most painful traitor of all refused to meet his eye. Miguel sat on a chair in front the containment bubble, elbows on his knees with his hands laced together. Y/N had been sealed away, red filament twisting around her like a hamster ball, or a puffed up cocoon. The grapefruit glow bounced off her skin, casting an ominous light over the blooming bruises around her midsection, where her suit had torn from the glass, where Miguel had hurt her. He hated self-confliction. Y/N had betrayed him, the Spider-Society, the multiverse-willingly aided Miles in his escape. She probably was the reason he got away. Y/N had made the conscious choice to forsake the canon. She had known Miles for all of an hour, at most. Y/N threw away everything to help a teenager that (to Miguel, at least) had no idea the damage he was causing. She completely the deserved the situation she was in. It didn't matter what the reasoning was. And now she sat, curled up in a fetal position on the floor, trapped inside a containment bubble, her back to him. Y/N didn't meet his eye, but he knew it wasn't an act of shame or cowardice. It was the idea that he wasn't worthy of it; the idea that he didn't deserve to see her eyes. That she wouldn't even grace him with the idea that she was looking at him. She was being punished like a toddler with time out. Y/N had made a mistake.

But Miguel loved her.

He couldn't dance around the word anymore. There was a monster clutching his beating heart, and it haunted his immortal soul. It was love, as twisted and convoluted as it was. Love for a woman that had her back to him, pointedly refusing to speak. Miguel had seen her anger before. Being on the receiving end felt like a nightmare. Just silence, as thought the two of them were preschoolers and the silent treatment was the most lethal weapon in the schoolyard. He expected her vitriol to be loud, the kind that breeds screaming matches-not this.

"Y/N." Miguel was met with (shocker!) more silence. "Where did Miles go? This is important." Silence. "Why would you do this. You've potentially damned the multiverse." Y/N shuffled a bit, if only to wiggly further away. "You've helped disrupt the canon." Miguel sighs. "You're an adult. You should know better. Miles was a stupid kid-" "That you body-slammed into a train." Y/N finally spoke, biting like a viper and tilting her head a bit to look at Miguel out of the corner of her eye. "A 15-year-old that you saw fit to chase on all fours. His reaction was reasonable." Miguel's conflict swelled. Y/N was talking in that dulcet angel tone, so succulent despite her anger. But her insistence was irritating. She absolutely should've understood, better than any of the teenagers, her little acolytes. Miles was new. It was true that his reaction was...understandable, to a degree. Hobie always broke the rules anyway. Gwen was going through a rough time, and Pav was there to have a good time. But Y/N's brother died because of an anomaly. She of all people should know the threat they pose.

"We tried explaining it to him. It was his choice that he didn't listen. You, on the other hand, you knew the consequences." "I'd rather be a proper hero and fight for what's right, to help those that need help. That's a concept that's hard for you to understand, right?" "Oh, so trying to protect the multiverse is wrong. Okay, okay. Esto es ridículo.♱" Miguel rose from the chair, muttering under his breath and turning with his hands on his hips. His head was reeling. He knew Y/N was stubborn, but this was absurd. "I'm holding every Spider, every world, together!" "Says the guy who didn't even get bit!" Y/N counters, quick as lightning. "If your canon events are so true, then how is Nueva York standing? You answer me that!" "Canon events can differ-" "By so much that there's not even a spider? Get real, Miguel! The kid isn't doing the-the-the-!" Y/N tripped over her words, rising from her curl on the ground and talking with her hands, trying to get her thoughts in one row. "The devastation that you think he is! Canon isn't infallible!" Miguel whipped around, realising he'd come face to face with Y/N. She was panting like a dog, a scowl buried under a grimace buried under a glare. Her eyes were steely, finally meeting Miguel's eyes like rocks crashing with the sea. It was a clash of wills.

And Miguel hated how much he loved it.

What a woman, honestly. If she was this passionate about protecting a teenager she'd just met, what would she be like with her own kids? Miguel was sure that Y/N would be wonderful, always coming to the kid's defense, without question. That venomous tongue would be soft-spoken to a child, one that would have Y/N's eyes and Miguel's hair. Maybe a little girl, a Gabriella that would truly be Miguel's own. No switching places with the dead. No feigning love for a woman he didn't know. No technicolour nightmares. His own little girl, from his own wife. And god! Y/N as a wife! She'd be so sweet, waking Miguel up in the mornings with light kisses, whispering sweet nothings to him, letting his hands water as his slips out of groggy dreams. The rising sun on her skin would light her up like a holy statue, and the moment Miguel was conscious he'd be happy (honoured) to worship. From the second he woke up, to the second he fell asleep, he'd be worshipping, down to his dreams being dictated by Y/N. Holidays, weekends, family trips, saving the multiverse together...it would be-

"What, you going brain dead? Are you even listening?"

Y/N's biting words dragged Miguel back to reality, as hateful as the idea of reality was. His daydreams were so much kinder than this. She was still upset, still trapped behind that red barrier, and they were still enemies. But after the vision of what they could have, it was like a tease to just keep playing cat and mouse. It would be cruel and unusual punishment to torture himself like that. It'd take convincing. A lot of it. But Y/N wasn't unreasonable. She was noble at heart and maybe a bit naïve. But she was a Spider at the end of the day, always looking for the best solution to terrible problems. And that's where it's important. That's okay. Relationships were about compromise, after all. "Y/N." Miguel spoke softly. He really couldn't hide his affections for much longer. It was spilling out of him like a cup, pouring through the cracks and spilling over the sides. And he saw how Y/N shifted. He could tell that she was figuring it out. She could see how he moved. And she slowly backed to the other side of the containment bubble, moving further away until her back was against the wall. Did it break his heart? A little bit, but this was going to take time. All things would.

"Y/N," He repeated. "We...really shouldn't fight. We're-we're special, you and I." Miguel got close to the containment bubble, watching Y/N.

He didn't realise it, but sometime in the last fifteen minutes, the bubble's purpose had changed. It started out as capturing a prisoner, a traitor, someone who was dangerous and could be a threat to society as a whole. But it changed to a shield, protecting a prey animal from a predator. It was Y/N's last safeguard from Miguel doing anything unwise. The dynamic shifted. Y/N could tell it-every hair was on end, every sense was on fire. But Miguel was oblivious. "I'm gonna shut this off," He tapped on the filament, and Y/N swallowed. "Promise me you won't go running off. We can have an adult conversation. We can talk." And maybe Y/N should've protested. She could've asked to keep it on, but who'd admit they were scared in a situation like this? So she stayed silent. She kept in her corner, and irritation reared it's ugly head again. Miguel was trying to be cordial. Why wouldn't she just promise? He was offering her freedom.

(Somewhat. Details didn't matter, not here, not now.)

It's not like he was going to hurt her. It's two measly words. Two words in exchange for a lifetime and some of love, affection, devotion. Was that really too hard of a deal?

"Promise." Miguel growled.

Instantly, Y/N put her hands up in mock surrender. "Promise! I promise." Miguel's heart bloomed. She could be so charming when she wanted to be. So disciplined and playful, a good wife, a good lover. Listening was the first step, and she was listening. Miguel could only grin. "Okay." He put his hands to the barrier as his heart raced. He was so close. A step or two more, and he would have the love of his life in his arms. And Y/N was staying still. There was no tension that he could see. She didn't look like she was about to run. She was just nervous. The red barrier folded out of itself, and quiet suddenly, it was just Miguel and Y/N in a room. When was the last time they'd done this? Miguel couldn't remember the last time it was just them. It was always either in fleeting moments or with other Spiders around. It was impossible to get Y/N alone, no matter how hard he tried. But here she was, just him and her and them and an empty room where no one was going to stop them. She didn't move, watching him like he were a predator in the savannah. Miguel didn't like to say that he was excited, per se. But there wasn't really another word for it.

His eyes scanned over Y/N's pretty face, every inch memorised in Miguel's mind. Her sharp eyes. Her cute nose. Her pretty lips. Her pretty lips. What would they taste like? Did she use lip gloss? What would that taste like? How would it feel to have her lips linger on his? These were dire questions, and Miguel was done waiting. He walked up to Y/N, slow and purposeful. He had to seem as non-threatening as possible to pull this off. And quick, because chances were Y/N was going to do something harsh, like slap him. But it was a small price to pay. After all, he had his whole life with Y/N ahead of him. He just needed to get it started.

Y/N was by no means a stupid woman.

She grew up with the same precautions every other girl did. Don't talk to strangers, they don't have candy in their van, and know when men are about to jump your bones. And in this case, she could practically smell Miguel's thoughts, like the gears in his brain were making smoke from how hard they were churning. She trusted him as far as she could throw him, if she tried throwing him when she was 12 and before she got bitten. That is to say, she didn't trust Miguel at all. He was a stupid, stupid man, and she needed to bolt. So, that's exactly what she did. Promises, schromises. Y/N could say whatever it took for Miguel to let her go, but at the end of the day, she had a responsibility to herself. For all his talk about having an adult conversation, she knew what the look in his eyes was. And when he began reaching for her cheek, Y/N knew it was now or never. Miguel's body weight was enough that she could web him up and hurl him into the nearby wall. It was like watching a cannonball get launched a Mach speed, and his surprised yelp was far more satisfying than it should've been. But he'd done this to himself, and as Y/N booked it down the hallway, she knew she was on a divine clock. Either luck or skill was going to get her out alive, and luck was unreliable at best. She had her hands, her webs, and her brain. That was going to have to make do.

A vast majority of the Spider-People were out, either in their own worlds or helping hunt down Miles. Poor Miles. He just wanted to save his dad. Y/N did her best, did the most she could, but right now? Right now, she had to focus on getting out alive, preferably with her pride intact. And as she heard Miguel's thundering footsteps behind her, an anguished yell, she found it in herself to go impossibly faster. Maybe if she was an outside observer, it would've been funny-a woman booking it past someone standing, only to be followed by a massive, 6'9 blue and red bullet on all fours. Wow. Miguel really did like just running like a dog. Y/N dove down into the lobby of the Spider-Society, ducking and weaving under bridges and platforms. Miguel leapt like an animal, clawing his way onto a platform above and dropping down.

"Stop running!" He barked, getting up to two legs again and reaching out. Y/N could feel his claws miss by a hair, and she leapt off the edge, swinging around and swerving to a platform above, stumbling into the containment room. Rows and rows and rows of sunset orange, anomalies staring at her with wide-confused eyes. None of them were the ones she'd caught, and as she heard Miguel claw up the side of the wall, she knew running wouldn't work forever. She had to do what Miles did-hide, outlast, outplay. These kids were getting too damn smart. Y/N dove behind the anomalous Rhino, praying that it wouldn't elect to shuffle over. It was the biggest thing in the room, the most stationary-and now Y/N realised she was putting far too much stock in luck. If Miguel found her, she genuinely didn't know what he would do. Would he cage her again? Hurt her? Kill her? It all seemed to be a possibility, all at once.

Now, all she could was hope the anomalies didn't sell her out.

In all honesty, she wouldn't blame them. The Spiders didn't have the most ethical treatment of anomalies. She wasn't even sure if they got fed, or what. But maybe a shared hatred for one particular Spider-Man would get it across. Y/N shared a look with a Doc Ock, and he stared at her. She grit her teeth, praying that somehow, the silent prayer would get across. A twitch throbbed in her neck from sheer tension, before the Doc Ock gave a barely noticeable nod. He looked away. It's a cold day in hell when the villains understood Y/N better than the 'good guys' did. Miguel burst into the room, claws tearing up the metal floor. Y/N could see a handful of the anomalies jump, all eyes on him. She had her back to him, and part of her hated how she'd put herself in such a compromising position. Short of her spider-senses, she wouldn't have a clue if she needed to run, and right now, she was having a Spider-Woman check engine light with how much the sense was going off already. It was rendered useless, because thank you very much, she was aware she was in danger.

"Vamos. Prometo que seré gentil.♱" Miguel cooed, heavy steps reverberating throughout the room. Maybe he was muttering to himself, or he genuinely was trying to speak to Y/N, but she knew better than to just leap out and go 'I'm here! Come and get me!'. Spider-Man was funny, but he wasn't stupid. And the same went for his 7290 variant. The anomalies all went silent, and Y/N felt her mouth go dry. It'd been so long since she'd last felt this genuinely terrified. Last time, she was 14, sobbing in an alleyway as she watched her uncle die. This time, she was being hunted by an obsessed, genetically infused daddy longlegs. This was absolutely, totally, completely fine.

"Mi corazón es tuyo. ¿Qué más se puede pedir?♱" Miguel kept muttering to himself, low and quiet and enough that if Y/N didn't have superior hearing, she wouldn't have picked it up. "I need you, I need you, I need you...you need me."

Mm. Y/N wrinkled her nose at that. That just sounded stupid.

Y/N kept her breathing controlled, trying to tame the soreness in her lungs and the shuddering breaths. Bile pooled in her throat as she heard Miguel slowly walk past the rhino, a shake in her hands that she hated acknowledging. But Miguel was terrifying. He was the ultimate predator, trying to hunt Y/N down like prey. She was prey, for the first time in years. She figured that maybe, if they'd done a better job of convincing Miles, then it would make sense. But if this was what the boy was seeing, feeling, then no wonder. She would've jumped off the bullet highway, too. Abruptly, there was a sudden crash, and Y/N's head whipped around to see that Miguel had thrown one of the containment contraptions, hurling it to the wall opposite to her. She practically jumped out of her skin, the bile leaping to her tongue in a bitter, acidic taste. Miguel swore hard in Spanish, howling like an injured dog, damaging more equipment and clawing up anything that wasn't an anomaly. With every hit, every swipe, Y/N flinched, because holy shit that could be her. He could pop her head off with a single slightly hard hit, and it'd be over.

He stalked out of the room, leaping down to the Go Home Machine below. Y/N's sigh of relief felt like it was shared with the whole room, all the anomalies relaxing at once. It's like a thread had been pulled out of a fabric, letting it finally fall the way it was meant to. One anomaly, a fucked up Green Goblin, did a dramatic flop to the floor. Y/N shut her eyes, taking a deep breath. At this point, she'd just abandon ship-leap out the nearest window and web her way out of the city before Miguel could deactivate her watch. And even if he did, then she'd hide out. Nueva York was insane, a metal jungle. She could spend the rest of her life hiding out there, if she had to.

"Beep beep."

Y/N's eyes flew open, looking to her left. Her gut plummeted. Miguel's golden boy, his favourite, one of their best, stood next to her, exactly 4 centimetres high. LEGO Spider-Man, with his teeny little watch. Before, Y/N thought he was cute, like a dog or something. But as his watch flickered to life and the visage of Miguel appeared, she regretted every single instance of her almost stepping on him. "H-Hey, wait-!" She whispered, harsh. "Don't-!" "Miguel, I got eyes on Y/N!" LEGO Spider-Man moved in a way that only a LEGO minifigure could, his head rotating a little bit. The Miguel avatar slowly turned, locking eyes with Y/N, and her blood froze. "Thanks, Peter. You're one of our best for a reason." "Beep beep." LEGO Spider-Man shut off the watch, looking to Y/N. "Sorry. Nothing personal." There was silence for a second.

"Peter." Y/N said. "You fucking suck."

She picked up the LEGO and proceeded to chuck him as far as she possibly could, launching him into the lobby and watching him fall. Some of the anomalies groaned, and already Y/N could hear Miguel barreling his way back to the room. Why the hell could she not catch a break? She only had a handful of options, most of which weren't actually options she could do. There was turning herself in-a non-option. There was calling for help-another non-option. And then there was simply...jumping out the window. The same thing Miles did. Which...felt cliché. Would Miguel really fall for the same thing twice? Literally? Miguel ran into the room, sliding across the floor. There was a moment where he looked up to Y/N, eyes wide and wild. His grin was wide, panting hard with his fangs poking his bottom lip. A flush had bloomed on his face, his eyes blown out like he was on drugs. "There you are," He hissed.

Well. The window it was.

Y/N's sides still hurt from the last time she got tossed out a window. This time, she gave herself the courtesy of bracing herself with her arms, but the glass still hurt like hell. It cut into her arms as Miguel genuinely shrieked, running out after her. There was a moment where Y/N was just in a free-fall, taking a second to reflect on her situation. Did she wake up this morning expecting any of this? No. If she had, she would've texted her neighbour to keep an eye on her fish. But nooo. She just had to get herself mixed up in super-hero shenanigans. She crossed her arms, a petulant scowl on her face. Maybe she still could call to make sure her fish would be okay. Miguel hurtled out the window after her, a hand reaching out to catch the front of her suit. His claws were out, the extra inch and a half proving far more of a threat than Y/N liked. She spun down and webbed Miguel's foot, yanking him down and using him as velocity to shove herself up. He tried the same trick on her, but if there was one thing she had on the 'kilogram of steel vs kilogram of feathers' built Spider was that she was that much faster. She yanked her foot out of the way, webbing to the side of the Spider-Society and slamming into the glass of a floor she'd never even been on before. Miguel plummeted like a brick to the ground, webbing to a building that was that much lower. Y/N had a total of two minutes to decide what the hell she was going to do. So...what was she going to do?

♱ - This is ridiculous. - Come on out. I promise I'll be gentle. - My heart is yours. What more could you ask for?

╰･ 𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙘 ⸜❤︎⸝‍ 𝙢𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙡 𝙤'𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖 ⨯・ ⨯・@ishqani ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @pix-stuff ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @localdepressedvampire ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @cantchoosejust1 ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @tired-writer04 ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @neteyamsbulletwound

[esoteric-oracle]

//long rambles ahead!

I think what really lingers with me about MDZS is that it's not a novel with a cathartic ending at all. It's a bittersweet story that leaves you slightly hollow. Yes, it's a beautiful and epic romance. It's a piece of social commentary interwoven with a love story and murder mystery. It's a cautionary tale. But it is also very much a tragedy. It's a story about being too late, second chances, and moving on.

By the time the truth of everything JGY and JGS did comes to light, it's 13 years too late. Everything that mattered has already happened. Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan are long dead. Jin Ling is still an orphan. Wen Ning is dead, and sometime in the future, his death will be permanent. Wen Qing was burned to death at the stake for no fault of her own. Nie Mingjue has already spent ten years in a no-doubt agonizing state of un-death, and Lan Xichen will have to bear the guilt of loving both Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao, and by doing so, forsaking them both. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng's once-close bond is irrevocably broken, and the woman who sowed the seeds of resentment when they were still children will never face the consequences of her vitriol.

People sometimes say MXTX was too hard on the side characters, and only gave the Wangxian a happy ending, but what stuck with me after finishing the story is how… sad things are. Yes, Wangxian finally get the happy ending they've deserved for nearly 20 years - but at the same time, it's not a happy ending where the people who've wronged them get the consequences they deserve.

Wei Wuxian will spend the rest of his life haunted by guilt and loss, over what happened to Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan, over the loss of the Wen remnants. The rest of his years won't even be lived in the body his parents gave him.

Lan Wangji will spend the rest of his years wondering if he'd chosen to stand with Wei Wuxian when it mattered - would his son have had to grow up without his birth family?

Nie Huaisang is left wondering if his brother had been a little less trusting and had never taken Meng Yao in as a Nie deputy, would his brother have died a less wretched death? Would he have been forced to stoop to ruthless machinations and manipulations to seek some semblance of justice?

Wen Ning will have to live with the knowledge that if he'd been a little less kind, if he'd let Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng die that fateful day - his family would still be alive. The Wens would've won the war; Wen Qing might've even succeeded Wen Ruohan.

No one really gets the ending they deserve. MDZS isn't a story where good people get happy endings, and bad people get their dues. Sure, Jin Guangyao's crimes are revealed and he faces the consequences of his actions. But what about the people who stood by and made him into a monster? If anything, the side characters and antagonists who survive get better than they deserve. The real villain of MDZS - society - will never face retribution. Those cultivators who always believed in their own bigotry and righteousness over and over again, will never face justice.

Do you think those cultivators and the public will ever feel any regret for the innocent people they condemned to death in their own prejudice and blind self-righteousness? Do you think the people who gathered at Nightless City to call for Wei Wuxian's death considered for one second that he was the biggest reason they won the war? When the cultivators who sacked the Wen settlement at the Burial Mounds threw the bodies of the Wens into the blood pool, do you think that was a sign of shame?

Do you think Jiang Cheng will ever regret leading a siege on a small settlement of innocent farmers? Do you think he's haunted by condemning to death the same people whom he owes his life to?

Do you think those people like Yao-zongzhu will ever feel an ounce of remorse for so easily believing rumours and hearsay, and spreading speculation and vitriol about innocent people?

Do you think that unnamed cultivator out there will ever lose a single minute of sleep over smashing in Wen Popo's head?

In the years that follow, Wen Ning will have apologized a hundred times for lives he did not take, crimes he did not commit, because of the name he bears. People, both in-universe, and even readers, will condemn him for actions he could not help, for doing the right thing. But did Jiang Cheng ever apologize for killing his family? Did the Jins ever apologize for their horrific treatment of people in the labour camps?

People will continue to demand that Wei Wuxian apologize for causing the deaths of their friends and family. But how is Wei Wuxian meant to do that? No one ever apologized to him for taking his family away. No one ever apologized for condemning the Wen Remnants to death for crimes they took no part in. The Wens were his family too.

There's so much potential for bitterness and corruption in MDZS. Instead of saving everyone, Wei Wuxian could've stood aside and let the people who tried to kill him die. MDZS could've been a story of succumbing to hatred and grief, but it wasn't. MXTX could've gone on and on about how society wronged the protagonist, but she didn't. The narrative is one of forgiveness and moving beyond past grievances. The story chose to close the story on a positive note. I truly love that aspect of MDZS, where MXTX leaves just enough room for hope and love at the end.

A-Yuan will finally get his closure about the family he lost as a toddler. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian get their happy ending together after being separated by nearly two decades by war, miscommunication, cruelty, and death.

Wei Wuxian will never regret protecting survivors of an attempted genocide, because it was the right thing to do.

And Wen Ning will still stand in the way and take a fatal blow meant for Jin Ling, despite everything the Jins and Jiang Cheng did to the people he loved.

Because they chose love. Characters like Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning and Lan Wangji have the chance to move on and live a happier life because when they could've succumbed to hurt and fury and resentment, they chose to be kind and do the right thing. Wangxian get their happy ending because they learn to recognize the toxicity of the cultivation society's self-cannibalizing prejudice, and chose to pursue righteousness above personal benefit.

MDZS isn't a story about good people getting good things. Just look at what happened to Xiao Xingchen. There's really nothing satisfying or cathartic about everyone's fates at all. There's no promise about society facing the consequences of their mob mentality or Wangxian actually changing the world together. Even in TGCF, for all its makings of a love story, we get the promise of societal change once Jun Wu is deposed.

It has all the makings to be a tragedy or tale of vengeance of epic proportions - but instead, it's a love story. It's a story about making the best of what you've got, and staying true to yourself and your morals, even if that's sometimes a bitter pill to swallow. It's a story where everything that could go wrong went wrong, but the characters still managed to fight their way to a better ending by choosing kindness. At its core, MDZS is a testament to choosing compassion over cruelty no matter how tragic and hopeless life gets, no matter how long the journey gets. Even though the happy ending is more personal and only applies to the specific characters, even though we don't actually get the promise of their society becoming a better place - we still have the hope that Wei Wuxian's second chance brings. The hope that sometimes, no matter how cruel the world is, some people who deserve it still get their happy endings. That's what makes MDZS such a memorable work of art. That's why it stays with you.

[fermented-writers-block]

With the revelation of the Collector being just one out of a whole species and the whole “Collector creed” as in the book King read, it really has me thinking on the mural in King’s tower and the name of the Titan Trappers as a group. What if the big battle between the Titan Trapper and Titan was not about slaying the Titan, but rather about the Titan Trapper trying to subdue the Titan long enough for the Collectors to collect and preserve it?

After all, the comet IS headed towards the Titan’s face, and as we saw in this episode, well…

But given the established fact that Titan magic cancels out Collector magic this episode, as well as the mystery of how that battle ended, I feel the story of the Collectors and Titans may have gone in a direction like this:

Countless eons ago, the Collector (who shall be referred to as Cole for ease) came into existence to a group of Collectors. At some point, he was brought along to observe and participate in the collecting of a new planet as part of his training to be a proper Collector...

Amongst the creatures they set out to collect, they came across huge, powerful beings known as the titans whose magic, curiously, made them resistant to the Collectors’ magic. Desiring to collect such powerful creatures, they empowered and created the Titan Trappers, who would ideally trap and pin down the Titans long enough to actually collect them.

Practically though, the Titan’s magic proved too strong of a counter to the attempt to collect them, so while the adult Collectors tried to figure out how to preserve the adult Titans, Cole was sent out with the task of collecting the much weaker - and thus easier to collect - baby Titans.

However, instead of preserving them, Cole wound up playing and having so much fun with his unexpected new friends that he went to the other Collectors to argue for his new friends to stay UNcollected and UNpreserved. Aka going going directly against the “Collector creed.”

But rather than punishing Cole for deviating from their book of conduct and beliefs, the adult Collectors took outrage at the Titans who had “meddled” in their affairs and “corrupted” their poor, innocent, rule-following child.

To the adult Collectors, their precious Cole could not have come up with such heretical ideas on his own. Surely he could not have fallen into such a transgression against everything the group is meant to stand for out of his own free will.

No, it must have been the influence of the Titans and their horrific magic, and as decreed in the book of the Collectors, these meddlers in personal affairs MUST be eradicated. Thank goodness they caught this in time and prevented their precious Cole from forsaking their family and everything they believed in.

As for the demons who dared try to “corrupt” their child and by extension the rest of the Collectors, the the stars would descend from the heavens above to strike the world below in fiery judgement - a world which would be immolated as part of the efforts to prevent any swaying away from the truth that they all follow and have been teaching Cole to follow.

In other words, sounds an awful lot like a Puritan colonist getting so swept up in the fervor of burning witches at the stake as their interpretation of the Bible decreed - so swept up that they cannot accept a loved one’s true self could deviate so far from the norms of society and blames such deviancy on witches and demons, amiright?

[dmajor7th]

Renouncing the throne would not set Wilhelm free

A question asked of those in the Young Royals fandom: Are you Team Monarchy or Team Abdication?

For those who wish to see Wilhelm fulfil his birthright, the desire comes from him being able to find peace with himself and thus the role, and setting an example by living as the first openly queer monarch in Swedish Royal history. That it denies August the position also helps this argument.

For those who wish to see Wilhelm renounce the thrown, the desire comes from wishing him to be free from the shackles of unasked for expectations, and emancipated from the pressure that crushes down on his wellbeing, his romantic relationship, and his ability to live a "normal" teen and adult life.

But here's the thing: Wilhelm is marked for life. Refusing to become King, and removing himself from all royal duties and the Crown itself, will not lead him to become a "normal" person.

There is a real world, contemporary example of a prince forsaking his duties and being no freer from the media circus that haunts him—Prince Harry of the British Royal Family. The details of his conflict and departure from his royal duties are widely publicised, no less than in his own autobiography. To be sure, the pressures and scrutiny he has faced growing up are horrific—least of all the media treatment of his mother's death—and the racialised aggression towards his wife is beyond disgusting. It makes total sense that he would want to remove himself and his own family from the shit show that is being a royal in the Internet Age.

But rather than give him and his family the peaceful life he seems to crave, the media fire has only intensified. How much of this is driven my him I can't say; but the point is, making an effort to step away form his expectations has not freed him.

And so, to Wilhelm. He can chose to renounce the thrown, and he can choose not to become King, but he will always, always, be Prince Wilhelm. Unless he were to completely cut himself off from society, run away into a forest and never be seen again, he will forever be marked as a Prince.

Wille has also stated that he actually likes the monarchy. Who would he even be outside of it? He can't just get a job in a bakery or be a bus driver. What would he do? How would he live?

What I want is for Wilhelm to be able to find peace with himself and his place in the world, and based on what we've seen in season 3, I don't think it's more likely that will come to him outside of the monarchy than within it. He is a young, troubled man who needs considerable help and support, and I don't think leaving the framework he's accustomed to—with all of the resources it provides—to walk into an even greater media fire will help him.

I want Wille to be happy and I want him to be free. But moving away from his family and birthright is not, for me, the answer.

[socialistexan]

I think there is a phenomenon that has been mislabeled "social contagion" when it comes to LGBTQ identity that could be understood much better if you understand two things.

One is that queers tend to cluster together. We find each other. We seek out other queers, even subconsciously.

If your child has all these queer and trans friends and then just one day out of no where they come out to you, you shouldn't blame their friends "indoctrinating" or "misguiding" your child. We find each other, and you should be happy your child has a support system who has given them the space to accept themselves.

The other half of that, is that the more accepting society is of queer people, the more people will be out and proud. There will always be those of us who forsake safety and comfort to be ourselves, but other who can not (frankly should not have to) afford to risk that.

If your already queer child is shown that it is okay to be themselves, that they can have a happy and fulfilling life full of love and acceptance free from violence and oppression, they're going to okay with being themselves as they truly are.

What you're upset about is that you don't control your child, who is their own human being with their own thoughts, feelings, and sense of self.

[samatheia229]

Rise Ponderings:

The Turtles With Japanese Names

I've seen a lot of headcanons lately that support the "Rise boys' given names ARE their colours and they only got the artist names later on" narrative so I'd like to share my own.

Rise Splinter is undoubtedly very Americanised but I think that despite him forsaking his familial duties and old life, he’s still Japanese, is still a Hamato. So, subconsciously, he gave the boys Japanese names (of their corresponding colours, of course).

On that note, for all that Splinter has Celebrity-Who-Gives-Their-Kids-Unique-Names energy, I believe that he would still have enough decency to give them somewhat proper Japanese names not just 'Aka', 'Ao', 'Murasaki' and 'Orenji'.

However, for a period of time, the English-colour-names Splinter uses in the show would have been how addressed each other because they are, for the most part, an English-speaking household. Until an eight-year-old April came along insisting that those weren't 'real names', the turtles English names were 'Red', 'Blue' etc. 

After adopting 'proper' English names, those became the common form of address, though Splinter still calls them by the English colours because it's a habit for him. They don't mind.

They don’t use their Japanese names often. It’d mostly be during serious-talk time, in official stuff, calling someone by their full name or teasing. 

Ironically, in Splinter's (read: my) effort to not be a basic bitch, most of the boys' Japanese names are female. You can bet they tease the shit out of each other about it. The only one that actually takes offense to the teasing is Donnie whose name is very common and recognisable, so he always gets asked why he has it and/or if he realises that it's a girly name. 

The Names

*NOTE: I'm using Kanji here. Fair warning, they could be written wrong, so if there are any Japanese speakers out there, do correct me.

Hamato 'Raphael' Shuiro

Shuiro 朱色 = vermilion

Raph’s name is the only one that isn’t a real given name but I thought it suited him.

Colour Symbolism:

Besides being one of the most dominant colors in Japanese culture, red is associated strongly with authority, strength, sacrifice, passion, joy, and happiness. It's also regarded as an auspicious color in Japan.

Frequently said to have Eldest Daughter Syndrome by the fandom, Raph is the ultimate authority among the brothers. He self-appoints as leader not because he necessarily wants to be, but because as the oldest and the biggest, he feels like it's his responsibility to look after the others. Which often takes great strength and sacrifice. Surface Pressure from Encanto, anyone?

Furthermore, red, specifically vermilion, is very symbolic in Japanese architecture:

Red is the color of torii – Shinto shrine gates – temples, and traditional daruma dolls. Red is said to scare away evil spirits and represent protection, strength, peace, and power. 

All in all, very fitting for the big brother and family protector, if you ask me.

Hamato 'Leonardo' Aoi

Aoi 青い = blue

Aoi is a unisex name; meaning hollyhock flower when used for girls and blue for boys. I'm using the male meaning for Leo. 

Colour Symbolism:

Blue commonly represents the sea and the sky (for which Japan is surrounded) and symbolizes purity, dignity, calmness, stability, security, and fidelity. Blue is also regarded as a lucky colour.

In this case, blue is rather in juxtaposition with Leo's personality, but looking at it from a franchise perspective, blue is indeed a leader's colour.

Back then, Japanese society was strictly hierarchical and displayed through the colour of their robes. Of the colors that were allowed for common folk, the color blue was work by higher ranking people. It symbolized wealth and prestige, while also remaining a color of the common folk.

That being said, Leo's a little different from his predecessors. Eventually, he will grow into the role of the leader we know and love. But even when he was unburdened from being leader, he was still the strategist. Leo's leadership in fights is a balance between what is uniquely Rise and the mission-mindset of the leaders in blue who came before him, strategies that are fun, wacky and maybe a little unorthodox yet still as effective for the team.

Hamato 'Donatello' Sumire

Sumire 菫 = violet

Sumire is usually a girl's name but I don’t think Splinter would’ve cared all that much about gender.

Donnie doesn't either and even likes his name, though it has caused him a lot of grief over the years. A lot of people think it's strange for a guy with his personality to have such a feminine name, and he's really sick of having to defend his name after introducing himself. Part of why he wanted 'Donnie'.

Colour Symbolism:

Like in the West, purple in Japanese culture is associated with royalty, as purple dye was rare and only available to those of a higher status. It can also reflect on nobility, spirituality, and wisdom.

Out of everyone, Donnie embraces his colour about the most. His clothes are purple, his tech is purple, his lab is bathed in purple lighting. Purple is Donnie's thing. This, in a way, ties in with the colour's exclusivity back then.

Flower Symbolism:

In Hanakotoba (flower language), the meaning of violet is sincerity, a small love, and a small bliss. Violets are a common gift, as they are an ideal way to show appreciation for a family member or friend and to express sincerity or love.

I think this is very Donnie. What he lacks in the emotional department, he makes up for  through his tech. He creates things for his family, making them all kinds of personalised gizmo. Sometimes it results in disaster but the intention to help is there. Gift-giving is his love language.

Hamato 'Michelangelo' Mikan

Mikan 蜜柑 = tangerine

Mikan is a common Japanese girl name. Baby girls named "Mikan" are usually joyful, positive-thinkers, smiley and generally happy people.

Mikey loves his name and doesn't care that it's girly and cute, no matter how the others tease him about it. (SIDE NOTE: I swear the near-matching names wasn't intentional. I was just looking for a name that means mandarin orange for a bit I'm writing).

Colour Symbolism:

Orange is symbolic of love, happiness and the sun.

The youngest of the family, Mikey is optimistic and cheerful. He brings joy and colour to the household through his art. He encourages everyone to be express their love openly and always tries to be supportive.

Fruit Symbolism:

Besides good fortune, wealth and longevity, the fruit mikan can be tied to family because of its role in Japanese traditions. In Japan, there is a word “Kotatsu de Mikan”, which means:

A family sits around a kotatsu (a traditional Japanese table with an electric heater attached to the underside), watching TV and eating mikan —  the traditional picture of a harmonious family seen in the wintertime.

TLDR; I really love how each turtle has a role to play in the family, how their respective colours are so appropriate for who they are as people, and I wanted their Japanese name to reflect that.

Mikey is all about family. He's the heart, always the peacemaker, always bringing everyone together.

----------

[srbachchan]

DAY 5878

Jalsa, Mumbai Mar 22, 2024 Fri 11:18 PM

🪔 ,

March 23 .. birthday greetings to the wisest of them all .. Ef Sudhir Kulkarni .. love and happiness ever .. 🙏🏻🚩❤️

.. and the day has come to an end ..the adventures notwithstanding ..

human resource and resources are in abundance .. drafted and constructed to be in some pertinent usefulness from the day of its appearance in the hemisphere ..

yes it is born to eventually perish .. but not without giving it a chance to prove its merits and at times demerits of the society it is betrothed to ..

some excel in its presence, some deliver marginally, some be airborne in the vacuous heavens of the unknown .. but they all deliver ..

such is the unknown .. that its presence be known yet remain unknown ..

how did all this be designed ..

conveniently when we are unable to decipher even after extensive research and education, the responses we have lived and believed all our existing lives, we arrive eventually , exhausted and in delirious form, giving up our creation to wherever it came from ..

never forsake the presence of the form given to you .. it was created with immense and unfathomable deliverance ..

blessed and embellished in the grace of the GRACE

🚩🙏

Love

Amitabh Bachchan

[alexanderlightweight]

I miss writing. I miss malec

I plot in my head every night but it’s not the same.

I miss writing about how Magnus and Alec tease and find and appreciate and murder for each other and how much they love each other.

I miss Team Immortal and how Magnus and Cat and Ragnor and magical rituals and the spiral labyrinth politics and the finer elements of magical and warlock culture and

I miss diving into world building with magical botony and zoology and thread magic to pocket dimensions. How magic isn’t equal and there’s different levels and wild nature magic. The way that while the spiral labyrinth has changed and evolved, that it still holds to the very oldest of rituals. Everything carefully and continually read by each new Elder and the acolytes of the library learn by trade. Because knowledge isn’t kept in books alone. There are singing histories and spells kept alive by enchanted pieces and the memories of those devoted to learning. Carving and thread work and rituals in tapestry or furniture.

(Because elder isn’t a title based on just age but also elder knowledge. Warlocks who especially dedicate themselves to either singular or a plethora of fields and excel at creation and learning become elders. The very best researchers and scholars of the wealth of knowledge and magical prowess. Being an elder isn’t just a perk it’s a dedication and an oath to the protection and betterment of their people. Active oaths to keep them from stagnating in the decades of immortality and aging.

If you truly start slacking or losing your way, the magic prods you. Eventually you are forced to make a choice, forsake your roll as an Elder and retract and be released from your vows. Or uphold them. )

Metalworking and leather working and the labyrinth contains it all.

I love expanding on the shadowworld and the different ways magic is used by each race and how they all separately interact with the outskirts of the mundane world.

Of figuring out how a warrior society would work and the different styles of life that could have evolved.

And how much sheer adoration and platonic love is between the three of them. And the trust.

Because even when Ragnor is ignoring Magnus (a petty fight that turned into a research binge that turned into a few more years of silence than intended while Ragnor experimented in a pocket library) Magnus is still going to show up and make sure he’s fed and hydrated because the pettiness never outweighs the care.

(Cat has spells on all their vitals and vise versa. But she sent Magnus over with an excuse around year theee when she figured Ragnor had just lost track of time. Magnus doesn’t even remember that Ragnor was being petty and Ragnor doesn’t remember the argument at all).

I miss Alec figuring out what he enjoys and that he’s allowed to enjoy.

Honestly I got a little off track but I’ve been wanting to write malec and post for so long.

I miss the interactions and comments and looking forward to new Wednesday prompts. I miss writing Wednesdays so much and I’m looking forward to starting them up again when I’m healed :/

This took about an hour to write the first time but half got deleted and had to be rewritten when Nightshade started barking outside (it’s past the neighborhood noise curfew and I had to run to grab him so we stayed polite).

Nightshade likes to go outside and ‘guard’ the house for a bit every night before his door gets locked shut for bed, but since bed is subjective to my insomnia and not his sleep schedule he sometimes goes to ‘guard’ rather late. He huffily settled in his crate, perturbed I wouldn’t let him ‘protect’ the House.

Honestly I’m just happy I can write on my phone without a ton of pain anymore.

💜 lumine

The House made a rule (without me lol I was outvoted) that every time anyone buys anything they have to consider if it’s for public House use and if it is, how likely I am to injure myself with it. Or how likely is it to randomly break and hurt me.

It’s very sweet but I hate that it says something that they all agreed. It’s also hilarious because I’m the one who does all the yard work (I’ve had to delay fertilizing for a month and had to stop PT for 3.5 weeks while it healed enough for me to go) so I have axes, clippers, trimmers I use frequently.

[flying-nightwing]

If I May (pt. 1)

Fuck it, Pride & Prejudice AU

This was hastily written while I was up in my feelings after re-re-re(x5) watching the movie (2005) because I needed a Mr. Darcy-esque Jason fic or i would have died. This is therefore extremely self indulgent. I'm also very rusty so forgive me if some parts aren't smooth. Expect a part 2 soon. And as always, enjoy!

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Word count: 3705

Warnings: none

Summary: You are a merchant's daughter who's trying to live a decent life, even if it means forsaking your own happiness. However, one short meeting with a stranger on a balcony sets you on another path, and you're not sure how to feel about it.

Gold light, marble floors. 

Violin, harpsichord, laughter. 

Sapphire eyes and mahogany hair, a blur of diamonds and pearls. A hundred feet dancing and twirling to the melody, the rustle of fabrics moving along with them to create colors and shapes out of a dream.

A night that seemed to never end. 

Your corset was too tight. You curtsied your partner as the music came to an end, excusing yourself for a moment. You had to get out of that crowd, to get away from the man in front of you. You made your way toward the balcony, your pushing becoming less and less ceremonious as you went. Your breathing was shallow yet couldn't be fast enough as gloved hands rose in indignation at your less than ladylike behaviour. 

Hadn't you reached the glass door when you did, you believed you would have cried. The sudden cool air allowed you to take a deep breath as you threw yourself forward, holding your hands out on the rail to catch yourself. You closed your eyes and took a moment to gather yourself, then turned around and gently closed the door, effectively muffling the new song that started with a roaring cheer from the crowd. 

Slowly, you returned to the rail and guided your stare to the night. The sky was clear and the stars were bright, but it didn't ease your mind like it always did. 

It was all wrong. 

Everything was wrong.

Your father passing away, your step brother giving you an ultimatum to marry this season or join the Sisters, as he had no intention to keep you on his newly inherited estate, your mother who was still sickly and bed ridden. 

You weren't poor by any means, but you weren't a part of the high society either. Your status was decent, and your name was respected enough to earn a good match. But with your father's unexpected passing and your step brother's petulance, you came with a bed ridden old woman to take with you, and that displeased many of the potential marriage candidates for you. 

So when one began courting you with the full knowledge of your situation, as in, knowing your mother would move with you to his estate, you didn't resist. You reciprocated the courting, and danced with the man at every ball, and walked with him in the gardens. He wasn't particularly beautiful, he was a bit on the older side, and his interest appeared to be lying in the fact that he had resigned himself to settle, to marry the least ugly woman with the least trouble following her. 

But he was also from decent money, with a respectable name and estate, and he most likely wouldn't treat you badly, which is more than you could have hoped for in such short notice. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You practically jumped out of your skin at the voice coming from behind you. With a shriek of terror, you slapped a hand on your chest and spun around, your eyes stopping on the stranger that seemingly appeared out of thi  air on the balcony with you. He held up his hands in front of him while his mouth curved in a cryptical smirk.

“Easy there, forgive me for scaring you” He spoke as he slowly stepped forward. As he came closer and into the light, you took in his features. His voice had been low and smooth, perfectly fitting his strong jaw and black hair, you decided. He was quite young, around your age if you had to guess, but his ocean blue eyes reflected a wisdom well past his age. They were hypnotic, you also concluded as you forced yourself to look away before drowning in them. You cleared your throat. “Running away from the party?”

You blinked rapidly at his words as they brought you back to Earth. “Well, just–Not running away, it's a lovely ball–”

Your mouth kept going on its own. You had no idea who that man was, or what was his relation with the family who hosted the ball. You didn't want to accidentally insult him.

You felt your face heat up when you noticed the amusement dancing in his eyes, or the smile he was trying to hold back. Luckily, he spoke before you could babble anymore. 

“It's fine, I was running away from it too” He supplied as he went to stand by the rail beside you, no doubt aware of your eyes on him. “Dreadful affairs”

You let out a quiet breath, glad you wouldn’t be judged for wanting a break. “I don’t find them to be so bad… Usually”

His scoff was half hearted. “Some pretty boy broke your heart?”

You knew he was saying this as a joke, his relaxed posture and humorous tone said as much. Still, it stung a nerve you didn’t even know was sensitive. It reminded you that you’d never get to experience the regular courting, the regular game of yes-no-maybe the other girls your age would go through. You were aware it was a strange thing to wish for–drama and heartbreaks that is–but simply knowing you were robbed of it made you sad. 

He definitely noticed your shift of attitude, because his good mood dropped into concern. “Wait, some pretty boy did break your heart?”

You shook your head. “No, no not that” You hesitated before speaking, but he patiently waited for you to do so, so you went for it. After all, you had never seen this mysterious, handsome man before, and you’d probably never see him again. You took a deep breath and turned to face the stars. “My father died in the winter. My mom has been sick for a year now. And when my step brother inherited the estate, he told me that I had until the end of the season to marry and take my mother with me”

He frowned. “My condolences” He said, eyeing you carefully. “But I believe someone looking like you shouldn’t have trouble finding a good husband”

You laughed humorlessly. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you” You mumbled as you glanced up for a second. He seemed confused. “I am on the lower side of my social class. My step brother will not give a dime for the wedding. I come tied with a sick mother. I could be the most beautiful thing in the world and I would still be a prospect for desperate men and old widowers”

He waited for a moment before speaking. “And you know this because you have one, don’t you?”

You nodded slowly. 

“I’m sorry”

“What for?” You tilted your head. “You’ve had no part in it”

His eyes found you and you glanced back, looking at his partially shadowed face. For a moment you could let yourself daydream that he was the one who’d propose to you in the upcoming weeks, that he would bring you in his kingdom far away from your step brother and this miserable marriage that would await for you. But then, you had to return to reality and forget your little fantasy. This man wasn’t yours to claim. 

“I’m sorry that you won’t be able to live your life the way you desire” He said, seeming more genuine than anyone you’ve ever met. “Everybody deserves a chance at happiness. I hope you may still find it despite of everything”

You tore your eyes from him as your vision blurred, as you did not want to let the stranger see your tears. You hastily wiped them off, and when you looked to where he stood again, he was gone. You glanced around, searching for any trace that he hadn’t just in your imagination, but the stranger was nowhere to be seen. You blinked, returning your eyes to the stars for a minute. You recomposed yourself and smothered your dress, then returned to the ball. 

—

“I still can’t believe we got an invite” You said as the carriage crossed a stone bridge. The sun was going down and the countryside looked positively marvelous.

Your step brother scoffed at your words, like they were a ridiculous claim. “Of course we did. The Duke obviously recognizes the importance of my business. Now that I’m in charge, I have made much better decisions than the old man, and it’s blooming like never before. In no time, I’ll become a proper lord, a baron. Or even a viscount”

You bit your tongue not to answer that it was your father who built the business, your father who made the right decisions years ago, your father that allowed him to reap the fruit of his labour. “I’m sure he does, and I’m sure you will”

“By the way” He eyed you cryptically, ignoring your lack of enthusiasm. “Has Mr. Degras shown signs he would propose soon?”

You opted to look outside instead of meeting his eyes. “Yes. The marriage is pretty much certain, as he is not courting anyone else and neither am I. But I think he’ll wait until just past midseason to actually propose, not to suggest anything untoward about the whole affair”

He hummed, disinterested. “Yes, well, the sooner the wedding, the better. Wouldn’t you say?”

“I would” Your reply came mechanically. You did not especially look forward to your marriage, but moving far, far away from the man in front of you did sound appealing right at this moment. 

“Good” 

The scenery quickly changed and you couldn’t be bothered to listen to your brother ramble about his business. A manor greater than anything you’ve seen before appeared through the neatly trimmed trees of the property, and you gasped at the sight. There were many other carriages, all much more grand than yours. 

No sooner than later, you pulled to the entrance. A valet opened the carriage door, and your step brother all but pushed you back on the seat to get out first. With a muffled oof, you pulled yourself straight again and followed your step brother out. The valet offered a hand and an apologetic glance, helping you step down on the gravel. You returned a smile to him, following your step brother from afar.

If the outside was grandiose, then the inside of the manor was totally mind blowing. You couldn’t help but gawk in awe at the details on the structure, and the intricate decoration. YOu barely noticed the crowd chattering along the foyer. You however began questioning the reason for your invite the more you explored the manor. It didn’t take an idiot to see that the people around you were draped in visibly more expensive fabrics, and their behaviour was distinct from the ones you were used to. Your suspicions that you hardly belonged there were only confirmed when you stepped in the grand ballroom, where literally none of the other families of your status were present at all.

Then, you saw it. Or rather, you saw him.

The Duke was standing proudly at the front of the room. His black and yellow-gold coat striking out from the crowd, but not as much as his sharp features. But he wasn’t what caught your attention, probably unlike anybody else present. It was the stoic face of his tallest child beside him, head high and shoulders square, glance forward and unmoving. On his dark red coat were multiple military decorations, and on his face, multiple scars the night’s darkness did not reveal the first and last time you met. 

Your jaw involuntarily hung open at the realization. The handsome stranger you laid all your afflictions upon just a few weeks earlier was in fact the son of the most powerful individual in the country that wasn’t a King. You felt your neck and chest heat up in embarrassment at the only thought of airing out your problems to someone like him. You knew the stories of his military service, the alleged torture and the constant brushes with death, everybody in the country had heard them. Your struggles in comparison were jest, and you felt like a whiny child to have complained about them to him specifically. 

His watchful eyes then settled onto you, betraying absolutely no feeling of recognition whatsoever, and you’d believe he didn’t recognize you at all if it hadn’t been for the slight tilt of his head, acknowledging your presence. You blinked and looked anywhere but to him, then blended in the crowd. Even then, you felt like you couldn’t if you tried. You felt gazes and whispers falling upon you, wondering who you were and what you were even doing in such a ball. No matter where you went, you couldn’t escape them. 

You finally decided on joining the dancers, believing it would help shift the attention off of you. You danced one song, then another with gentlemen that didn’t stand out to you; which was preferable for you. Unfortunately, your peace didn’t last very long. Because when you looked up to your next partner for the third dance, you came face to face with a distinct black and gold who was already bowing before you could escape. Your spine went rigid as your wide eyes met his steady ones, and before you could blink, a pleasant smile wrote over his previously stern expression. You didn’t know which one terrified you the most

The music began and he bowed to you, and you hurried to return a curtsy. You felt practically everyone stare on you as you took the first steps of the dance, carefully spinning around each other. He was the first to speak.

“I must apologize for my son’s poor manners” He said, and your eyebrows raised in half panic. What did he mean by– “He was the one to insist on inviting you and grace us with your lovely presence. He should have been the one to dance with you the first moment you stepped on the floor, but unfortunately, he is rather… stubborn, I’m afraid”

You did not know how to answer this, your jaw going up and down without any sound coming out. A small frown came over his brow, but it wasn’t deep enough to cover the light amusement of his features. 

“Ah” He replied, a knowing sparkle in his eyes. “He did not tell you about it, did he?”

“I knew nothing of the sort” You confirmed in a small voice. “4I am truly sorry to intrude, I know I am not part of the nobility–”

“Please, do not apologize” He gently cut you off. “You were invited, were you not? Therefore no intrusion whatsoever was committed. And between you and I,” He paused, leaning a bit forward as the dance steps brought you respectfully close. “I would be willing to bet your specific presence is much more wanted than anyone else's here tonight”

There you went, speechless once again. The dance finished, and with a respectful bow, the Duke parted ways with you to return to the front of the room, where a figure in red was definitely missing. You looked around the room, but didn't find your stranger anywhere. That until, you went to step away from the floor and collided with a strong, red coated chest. Your eyes followed the buttons up to find his jaw clenched hard and his eyes still fixated on a point beyond your shoulder. 

Mechanically, his hand lifted up. “May I have the next dance?”

You looked around you as a hush fell over the room, and you deducted it was a rare occurrence for the young lord to dance if everybody was staring at you in disbelief. Not wanting to cause more of a scene, you managed to find your voice. “You may”

Carefully, you placed your hand in his and let him guide you back to the middle of the room. His bow to you was stiff and uncomfortable, but his steps were light and precise, practiced and repeated until it became a second nature. Yet, his expression was displaying something far from ease. 

“For someone who thinks balls are dreadful, I must point out that twice i’ve met you, and twice it was at a ball”

A tiny scoff shook his shoulders, but not his stoic expression. “Both times out of absolute obligation, I assure you”

“You were more chatty last time” 

“Merely an effect of a glass too many of red wine”

That was no way to speak to someone of his status, but he didn’t seem to have any intention to correct you.

“I didn’t know it was you”

He knew well what you meant. I didn’t know it was you that night. “That’s because I chose not to tell you”

“You must think this is hilarious” You muttered against your will, but it just had to come out. There was a rage suddenly boiling inside of you and it came up too quickly for you to effectively rein it back. “Having a merchant’s daughter spill her insignificant secrets to you, then invite her to a ball she very clearly doesn’t belong to, showing her everything she’ll be missing, then making sure everyone notices it too. Poor deluded girl gets a pity dance with the Duke and his son. Are you entertained enough, my lord? Or should I trip and humiliate myself just a little bit more?”

His eyes widened a little bit more with every word, leaving him with a frightened and wounded expression one would find on a scolded child. In this precise moment, neither the smooth, mysterious stranger on the balcony nor the stoic soldier was staring back at you. You almost didn’t notice when the song ended, but you didn’t miss your opportunity to storm away, pushing past the crowd and trying your best to ignore their whispers on your way out. 

After a few flights of stairs, you finally found a way out in the gardens. The fresh air was like a breath of relief, and the soothing cool of the air was welcomed on your skin. You walked until you found a pond and sat on the bench, glaring at the reflection of the moonlight in the water. You spiralled deep in your thoughts, until you heard your name being called in an unfamiliar voice.

You jumped onto your feet and spun around, coming face to face with an elegantly dressed woman, her blonde hair beautifully cascading down her shoulders. You recognized her as one of the figures standing beside the Duke at the front of the room, but she didn’t have the air of arrogance you’d have expected her to bear. Instead, she seemed kind and confident, the type of person one wouldn’t mind sitting down with for tea and a good conversation. She smiled at your apparent wariness.

“May I sit with you?”

You nodded, then remembered she was probably also outranking you. “Yes, of course you may” 

You waited until she rounded the bench and sat down to sit back. For a few minutes, she didn’t talk, she just observed you. 

“You’re sure as pretty as I believed you’d be”

You blinked in surprise. Out of everything you believed she’d say, this was definitely not it. “... Thank you?”

Her smile widened, but she didn’t add anything on the matter. Instead, she jumped into the topic she was probably here for in the first place. “He upset you, didn’t he?”

Your eyes snapped forward and your back straightened. “Did he tell you to come and make it worse?”

Instead of being insulted at your dry rebuttal, she simply laughed and brushed her hand. “Not at all, the poor fool’s probably still standing frozen where you left him. Listen, I came after you to check up on you. He’ll be fine, but I wanted to see if you were”

Your eyes reluctantly found hers again. “Why?”

She sighed. “With all his lack of tact, Jason meant well. All he said to us is that you told him you enjoyed balls, and that you deserved a night for yourself. Neither I or the Duke knows anything beyond that. He might have been clumsy in handling it, but rest assured, mocking you was the last of his intention”

You heard all of what she said, but somehow, your brain got caught on one specific word. One specific name. “So, his name is Jason”

She tilted her head to the side. “You didn’t know?”

You shook your head. “We heard the stories, but nobody could agree on the right name” 

“Oh well, he is going to be pissed that I robbed him of his grand introduction, that’s certain” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle along with her at the absolute ridiculousness of your situation. You liked her, you decided, but just as your handsome stranger–no, Jason–you didn’t hope to get attached. Then, something came up in your head, making you frown.

“How do you know my name?” You asked. “In fact, how did anyone know my name? I never told him”

She smiled at you again, the glint in her eyes telling you there was a secret you definitely didn’t know about dangling about your head. Come to think of it, it was the same as the one you had observed in both the Duke and his son’s eyes. “The Duke has his way”

“Okay?”

She shook her head and changed the subject. “Do you want to know a secret?”

Your eyes narrowed. “... Sure”

She leaned forward. “You were the only person who received an invite for tonight” She revealed, and before you could call out her lie, she beat you to it. “I swear it’s true. Everybody you saw tonight just assumed they were invited, because of their own vanity and self-importance. You, on the other hand, are the only person that was actually wanted here. Do with that information as you may, but please, don’t be too harsh on Jason. He really did mean well”

You nodded slowly, watching as she stood up. “Well, this has been a pleasure”

“Likewise” You mumbled back, staring at her expectantly. 

“Stephanie” She filled in. “Stephanie Brown”

“Have a nice evening, miss Brown”

“Oh, I will” She grinned wolfishly. “Good night”

“You… too…” You watched as she walked away, leaving you to ponder this last conversation alone in the gardens.

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

An analysis of Kaveh and Alhaitham's argument - Alhaitham's omitted POV

(This is a reworked excerpt taken from my Haikaveh essay! If you're interested you can check it out here or as a pdf <3)

The only time Alhaitham and Kaveh's argument is mentioned in-game dialogue is during Kaveh’s Hangout. Due to Kaveh’s reluctance to discuss it with the Traveler at risk of tarnishing his junior's reputation, Alhaitham asserts that the argument is nothing to be embarrassed about, and that their differences in personality resulted in them being unable to work together. This rendition of the argument, too, is devoid of the detail which Kaveh provides in his character stories.

Due to this, Alhaitham’s perspective of the argument has been omitted to the player, and thus Kaveh’s perspective is the only fully developed account provided. In this, Kaveh’s perspective, and his interpretation, of the argument can be easily sided with as the player. In this case, it is clear how Kaveh was hurt by Alhaitham’s words, but not so clear that Alhaitham was, in turn, hurt by Kaveh. Additionally, the intention in Alhaitham’s words is omitted, and therefore is seen purely as weaponizing Kaveh’s guilt.

Since Alhaitham’s perspective of the argument has been omitted, what is included in his Character Stories in reference to his thoughts on the consequences of collectivism will be used here in order to establish the intentions behind the weaponisation of Kaveh’s guilt.

Alhaitham’s Character Stories pre-date Kaveh’s, but were written to establish his perspective of individualism in reference to those with natural talent and those without. These discussions are inextricably tied with Kaveh’s Character Stories and serve as Alhaitham’s explanation for the root issue of their argument.

Whilst Alhaitham’s Character Stories retain the positives of individualism, as in living apart from a general majority, they particularly highlight the detriment of those with talent forsaking themselves to “blend in,” and compromise their own development for the sake of the majority: “to leave the right of judgment in others' hands is equal to denying oneself”.

According to Alhaitham, letting one’s talents be dictated and judged by society can only serve as detriment to oneself – this is a direct reference to Kaveh, paralleling his Character Story in which he fears separation from the majority.

In this sense, Alhaitham’s usage of Kaveh’s “inescapable” guilt as the reason for his altruism serves as the grounding for Kaveh’s escapism, so as for Kaveh to reflect on the blame he places on himself and for him to alter his methods of self-sacrifice for the sake of others. This would then allow Kaveh to prioritise himself, in order to fully realise himself, since, as of now, Alhaitham considers the altruist as self-denying (which is discussed further here).

The concern in Alhaitham’s words can be pinpointed in the potential consequences of Kaveh exerting himself for others: “Kaveh's impractical idealism… would come to be a burden on his existence someday”. However, due to the stated “explosive” magnitude of the argument and his phrasing, this intention is missed by Kaveh, and is instead interpreted as a malicious critique of Kaveh’s character.

The core reason for the rift in Alhaitham and Kaveh’s relationship is not their opposing viewpoints, as actually, these conflicting perspectives are the cause for the solidification of their friendship, as seen in Kaveh’s Old Sketchbook.

Rather, it is the belief that their held respective viewpoint is correct, therefore proving the other’s perspective incorrect. It is the disrupted unity of differing ideals by asserting a supposed ‘correct’ viewpoint onto the other.

As established in discussion of Alhaitham’s view on talent, a label has been placed on Alhaitham and therefore others set themselves apart from him. Unlike Kaveh, however, Alhaitham does nothing to disprove the conceptions formed of his character, as they ultimately do not inconvenience him, as he desires to live apart from those who would place certain expectations upon him.

Kaveh instigates a friendship between them by overlooking these assumptions, initially approaching Alhaitham due to a belief that he was being bullied, due to sitting apart from people in his darshan. It is stated in Kaveh’s Character Stories that Alhaitham was his “best friend”, insinuating that Kaveh did not solely consider Alhaitham as such, but that it was an understandably mutual sentiment. As observed, whilst Alhaitham does not necessarily seek out social contact or actively form deep connections, his friendship with Kaveh shows that he is not averse to doing so, so long as preconceptions are overlooked and a true understanding is developed.

Therefore, Kaveh’s words that instigated the split of their friendship that: “[Alhaitham] could be much better welcomed amongst people if he would just care…” revokes and criticises Alhaitham’s core principles; those same principles which Kaveh had previously interpreted as a positive opposition to his altruism, as seen within Kaveh's Old Sketchbook.

Rather than respecting Alhaitham’s outlook on life, Kaveh asserts his own over Alhaitham, which Alhaitham responds to in kind, by asserting his egoism over Kaveh. When Kaveh then states that Alhaitham is “too” intelligent, he uses the preconceptions that other scholars had used against Alhaitham. This not only reinforces that others were correct in their avoidance of Alhaitham, but also diminishes their friendship entirely, as he dons these misconceptions as a way to strike back against Alhaitham.

Along with stating his regret that he ever befriended Alhaitham, it is Kaveh’s weaponizing the general majority’s perspective of Alhaitham that effectively ends their friendship. By forsaking his own intimate understanding of Alhaitham, Kaveh alienates himself from Alhaitham. He does so by reinterpreting Alhaitham through the view of the general majority -  the collective which Alhaitham believes denies Kaveh from finding his true self.

In this, the two are now disparate, as Kaveh holds Alhaitham in the same position as the general majority; in a position of distrust and wariness, despite recognising his talents. Whereas Alhaitham sees through the “front” that Kaveh dons for the majority and as such, has been denied trust on Kaveh’s end.

[sablegear0]

Okay I know there are a bunch of posts examining Suguru's "At least curse me a little before the end" and whatever it was that Satoru said to him but this isn't a take I've seen yet so here goes:

What if... "At least curse me a little" wasn't meant in the surface level sense of "at least say something cruel to me and prove I'm still your enemy." What if it wasn't meant in the sense of Suguru knowing what Rika was to Yuta and encouraging Satoru to make him stay in that way.

What if it was an admonishment. What if, yes, Suguru knew what Rika was to Yuta and expected Satoru's last words to curse him in that sense... but it didn't work. And Suguru could tell it didn't work.

Rika was bound to Yuta by their intense love for one another, by a raw, pure emotion. Maybe whatever Satoru said was an attempt to recreate that phenomenon. But nobody knows cursed spirits better than Suguru, and Suguru's last words are to gently admonish Satoru for failing to do so, because he could tell that it hadn't worked. If it was an "I love you" maybe it wasn't earnest enough; maybe the feelings were too old and tired and complicated. If it was a "we'll see each other again" maybe there was a note of dread to it rather than the genuine hope of a reunion. Whatever was said simply wasn't enough, somehow. The Strongest Sorcerer couldn't work up the pure untainted emotion to lay a curse on his old friend; out of either love or hate. And Suguru could tell.

And his response - after the surprise of whatever was said, was to laugh. Laugh at Satoru's final failed attempt to get him to stay. But gently, with a smile, like he always did. Because he was so well-versed with Satoru's dramatic bullshit. It caught him off guard, got him flustered a bit, but he wasn't wholly surprised it didn't work. "At least curse me a little. At least say something genuine enough to do that to me. But you couldn't, could you?"

Shortly after, Satoru calls love "the most twisted curse of all." And sure, we can guess why. It turns people into monsters, literal and figurative. But in this sense, there's another layer of meaning. He calls it a twisted curse, compared to everything else he's experienced, and he's expressing that contempt for it because it didn't work. Not for him. "Love is the most twisted curse" is a bitter admission of failure in this interpretation. We know Satoru isn't too fond of things that escape his control or influence (see: his contempt for jujutsu society regulations in the flashback arc, and his known dislike and distrust of the society admins in the present). He could neither break nor master that curse, so he derides it as twisted, and in doing so he implicitly forsakes ever invoking it again.

[natasha-in-space]

Every so often, I can't help but think about all the dirty jobs Saeyoung had to do during his time as an agent. I'm not talking about the usual digital crime stuff he feels comfortable enough to mention openly. I'm talking of those missions he'd rather just shut up and never speak a word about. What about all the missions that went wrong for him, back when he was still young and inexperienced?

The fact that he has blood on his hands is apparent to us. But, do you ever think about whether or not he was forced to kill an innocent? Be it by some cruel accident or by direct order from the higher ups he had no choice but to obey? Have you ever thought of him having to make a quick elimination on yet another corrupt member of society, only to realize that his family, who has nothing to do with this, had seen him?

Have you ever thought about him doing everything he can to fix this: coming up with shaky lies on the spot, attempting to fabricate evidence, eventually resorting to pitiful begging that goes nowhere. But there should not be any witnesses. It's too late to turn back now. He got sloppy. His DNA is already on the scene of the crime. If he refuses, he not only puts his own safety at risk, but these people will get eliminated regardless. The least he can do is make it quick and painless. Have you ever thought of him still having to come back to his sad parody of a home and pretend like everything is fine? Like this was just another Tuesday, and not one of the most sickening things he had to do and witness?

Have you imagined him sitting down, staring at his bloodied hands with a blank and glassy look to his eyes, his weapon still in his grasp, and his ears ringing from every shot he has fired? Have you ever thought of him feeling so utterly disgusted and ashamed of himself that it almost seems like the silver cross on his neck that has always brought him a sense of security, is burning through his clothes and straight into his flesh? He won't take it off, no matter how heavy it feels. He wears it as a constant reminder of the sins these hands have committed. He knows that God has seen it all. He knows that, much like Lucifer, he will never be allowed to step foot over the Heaven's Gates. His soul is too sullied. Too dirty. Too sinful.

I feel like these are the days when he goes complete MIA. He tells everyone in the RFA later that he just slept through these few days.

He maintains contact with V, just in case. But, really, he spends these few days just... in a daze. Luciel has no remorse for selling his entire life away to guarantee his brother's happiness. He does not regret sullying his hands in the darkest sins this world had to offer, if only it means that Saeran's hands will get to do all the good things he has always dreamed about. He does not regret forsaking his own childhood, because he never thought of himself as a child in the first place.

But, in these moments... as the events of what he has done continue to unfold in his head over and over again, like he never even left, he feels it. Regret. Guilt. Disgust.

Luciel harbors a deep hatred towards his parents. He hates his joke of a mother, who has brought nothing but endless torment on her own children for ruining the life she foolishly destroyed all by herself, something he despises with all his heart. He hates his father for forcing them to live in constant fear and paranoia, just for the unforgivable crime of being born into this world. He hates every bystander who has done nothing to correct such an unfair act of pure cruelty unfolding right in front of their eyes.

But, as his vacant gaze keep drifting back to the equipment he has stashed away in one of his many drawers, a grim thought claws at his insides, tearing him apart piece by piece like a vicious parasite feeding on his flesh: is he... really that different from them?

Vanderwood ends up being the one find him, slouched in his seat, his hands still caked and crusty with blood. They just sigh, already knowing what happened. It's something they all had to go through. They just sit next to him, letting the younger agent know he's not alone. And, once Luciel's shoulders start to shake with choked, painful sobs, they don't say a word. They just let him break down into their arms.

It's one of the rarer moments of tenderness between the two.

[carnivorousyandeere]

How would the werewolf pack handle a new pack moving close to/into their territory? And what if a member of the new pack showed an interest in their darling 👀

It begins a little tense, but overall the yan pack is just a little wary/cautious. Werewolves aren’t quite as territorial over land as you might think. Packs’ territories can overlap, pack members can intermingle with those of a different pack, switch packs. It’s not unheard of for two packs to merge into one either; especially smaller packs (the Yan Pack is a fairly solid polycule as Cyrus is becoming more and more integrated with the pack. They’re not likely to lose any members, but they might be open to taking in one or two more members if they truly seem like a good fit.).

Mason is especially wary of the new pack, as he works hard to keep his own pack members safe and keep up their human façade, and he doesn’t yet know what the new pack’s values are. Are they the type to view humans as prey and make his job harder? Will they expose Mason’s pack members as werewolves and destroy their cover among human society? The other werewolves follow his lead on the matter. Even Ace does his best to avoid trouble with the new pack.

If a member of the new pack is willing to forsake their old pack and join the yan pack, the yan pack might accept this as long as the new addition treats you well, remembers that you belong to all of them, and that they don’t jeopardize the pack’s secrecy and safety among the humans. However, if they don’t treat you well enough, they get a little too cocky and keep trying to genuinely steal you from the other members of the pack, and constantly challenge Mason’s ideas about what’s best for the pack, they’re going to get put down like the feral dog they’re acting like.

A whole new pack all taking an interest in you is seen as a threat, and the yan pack would kill them all instead of giving the new wolves any chance of stealing you away. Mason’s police reports will chalk it up to a drug deal gone wrong, framing the deceased pack as both buyers and sellers, saying there were no survivors of their internal conflict. Case closed, nothing more to investigate.