#but none of the books fully commit to either

[plutoccult]

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER

pairing: hwang hyunjin x gender neutral reader

description: a beautiful stranger shakes up your once boring and repetitive morning commute on the train.

word count: 3.4k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: hello! i’m no stranger to writing, but i’m definitely a stranger when it comes to writing for idols. this is the first time i’ve ever done so, and who better to write for than my ultimate bias hyunjin? stray kids is my favorite group, so i’d like to write more content for them in the future. thank you to my pookie wookie lills (YES, we unironically call each other pookie, it’s our thing) for beta reading, and i hope you enjoy <3

soundtrack: beautiful stranger, enchanted

tags: @solefleurs @heavenfilm @5sos-wdw @todorokiskitten @rylea08 @br3anna-nels0n @hyunjinloverrrr

taglist form here

you always found an array of characters during your morning commute on the paris metro. there’d always be locals, some on their way to work or home just like you. amongst the locals were tourists decked out in overpriced souvenirs specifically curated for suckers like them. at night, there were drunks who thankfully were smart enough not to drive. the reek of alcohol on them wasn’t that amusing, you must admit.

despite the variety of people you could see passing by on your commutes, it grew boring. always the same thing every single day. not even the music playing in your headphones or the book you brought with you that day could make time go faster. it’s not like it would be any better once you got off the train either. your life was incredibly dull and repetitive. if only something could serve as a change of pace.

to think that your life had become boring in a place like paris of all places. it’s the city of love, is it not? even if you were created out of love and born in a city all about that concept, you had none of it. maybe that’s why you felt this way. no matter how many times you pass the same streets or enter the same train station, you had yet to find the one thing everyone seemed to look for so easily here.

you had basically given up at this point, committed to living an empty life where all you did was work, eat, sleep, then repeat. it’s what most people do in other countries anyway, might as well join the party. the second you had fully lost all hope, however, was when you saw the most beautiful stranger on the train. you almost wanted to slap yourself for being so pessimistic before.

you walked onto the train with the expectation of just sitting around until you got to your stop. as you walked to your usual seat, that’s where you found your beautiful stranger, sitting in the seat right across from the one you sat in every single day without fail.

you knew you had never seen him before. you take this train almost every damn day, so who was he? had he just moved here? was he a tourist? where’s the “i love paris” shirt and the eiffel tower keychain made of shitty plastic? instead, he was dressed like someone meant to be on billboards and magazines. surely had the face to fit the bill too. he was undoubtedly breathtaking, and he ultimately captivated you upon first sight.

it was pathetic how you hesitated to sit down. he didn’t seem to waver, looking down at his phone. from the reflection of his sunglasses—yes, you were that curious—he seemed to be swiping through photos. you assumed they were ones he had taken around the city. paris was definitely filled with photo opportunities, so you couldn’t blame him for that one. it’ll look good on anyone’s instagram feed.

you try your best to make yourself look occupied. shuffling through your bag to find a book, the rummaging sounds catch the attention of your beautiful stranger. your eyes meet for a brief moment when you turn your body to lean back in your seat with a book in hand. despite how quick the moment was, you swore your heart dropped the second you caught his gaze.

oh god, was this the excitement you had been waiting for? you couldn’t mistake it as anything else. leave it up to you to fall for a stranger upon first sight, but who cares? finally, finally, your life had begun to be painted in color. even if it was just for a moment, you’d savor this one train ride that actually seemed worthwhile for once in your life.

you steal glances at him every so often, praying he wouldn’t catch you and make you feel embarrassed for staring. you just couldn’t help yourself, he was like a walking renaissance painting. actually, you don’t even think da vinci would be capable of capturing the essence of someone who looked like a real-life prince.

the moment you knew you had reached your stop, you wished you could glue yourself to your seat so you had no choice but to stay on the train with your beautiful stranger a little longer. as much as you wanted to, you simply couldn’t, having no choice but to say goodbye without actually saying a word at all.

it was silly to think a stranger on the train could change your life in an instant. still, you were grateful for the temporary change of pace. if only you could thank him somehow, but alas, you knew you had no chance of seeing him again.

•••

the next day, you found your beautiful stranger again, this time sketching down something in a sketchbook. you caught him looking at everyone who walked onto the train, and when it was finally your turn to step on, he actually smiled once he laid eyes on you. it all felt like you were dreaming. if this was cloud nine, then you had finally reached it.

when you walked over to your seat across from his, you noticed he clutched the sketchbook close to his chest, almost like he didn’t want you to see what he was drawing. you were too shy to speak up and spark a conversation with him anyway, so it wasn’t like you would pry. still, you were curious to know what was on the page.

it pained you knowing you lacked any courage. you found you were better off acting like you were interested in your book, on a random page as you were too in your head to actually start from where you left off and completely ignored the folded page that indicated that. what would happen if you said hello? would he say hi back? ask if you’d like to see what he’s drawing or ask about what you’re reading? the possibilities seemed to be endless, but the possibilities seemed safer as thoughts in your head rather than facing reality if you were to take a chance.

you can’t help but watch intently as his face scrunched from focusing on his sketch, his only tool a wooden pencil. did he plan to color it later? you can imagine trying to avoid rattling colored pencils leaving his possession due to the bumpiness of the train. he was quite brave for trying to draw in a place like this, you thought.

unnoticed by you, your beautiful stranger’s cheeks flushed and ears burned red as he could feel you watching him draw. the subject of his drawing still remained a mystery to you, however. tempting to spark up a conversation, yet so debilitatingly scary at the same time.

it seemed rude to stare for so long, so you put a stop to it immediately and busied yourself with your phone, catching up with texts you had missed since getting up for work. your phone was always blown up with texts from your friends, today being no different. if you didn’t silence your phone at night, you would never get any sleep.

they had been informed about your current saga, and the update would certainly excite them. it was hard to resist a smile as you texted them about the latest scoop, especially as the subject of said scoop was only a few meters away from you. maybe this should wait until later, otherwise they’d trying forcing you out of your comfort zone by talking to who was still a total stranger at the end of the day.

who knows though? for all you know, he could be a murderer. a stinking gorgeous one too. as if you need to be on the evening news. even so, those were just silly thoughts, all just an excuse to stop yourself from taking a chance at something for once in your life out of fear.

the second you reached your stop, you instantly regretted being so silent. would it have killed you to try? it felt like it would’ve, but you figured this morning was the last chance you’d have. if only you weren’t such a scaredy cat.

•••

after your shift, an unexpected reunion occurred on the evening commute. the train was quite crowded at this time of day, majority of the aboard trying to get home after a long day’s work, including you. the surplus of people made it quite difficult to find seating, but luckily for you, your beautiful stranger had a seat occupied by his bag, perfect for you to sit.

this was the extra chance you craved the second you got off the train earlier, cursing yourself throughout the day for not even attempting to just say hello. you were so thankful to see him again, it was almost like the universe blessed you for this very purpose. you were such a wuss this morning, but you refused to allow that reputation to continue now.

once you took a deep breath, you walked to where your beautiful stranger sat, trying to keep your balance as the train moved at rapid speed. in the midst of your struggle, the sound of your footsteps thumping on the ground caught his attention. he looked up in surprise, not expecting to see you, but thrilled nonetheless.

“hi.” you miraculously manage to speak out, your accent making an appearance during your pathetic english. it was agonizing how your heart raced a mile a minute just by uttering one word, so you tried your very best to calm yourself down. “is this seat taken?”

“no, no…” he replied to your question, picking up his bag and moving it to the floor by his feet so you could sit. “here.”

“thank you.” you say before taking the seat next to him.

god, your heart was thumping like the loudest drum ever created. to sit across from his was one thing, but right next to each other, shoulders brushing due to the lack of room? if only you could put a stop to this rapid percussion inside you. at least the sounds of the train rumbling against the tracks could serve as buffer for the unspoken tension between you and your beautiful stranger.

his sketchbook rested unopened on his lap. you recognized it as the one he had earlier, previously held close to his chest as if he were hiding secrets. what could someone as dashing as him be hiding in there, you wonder?

almost as if he were reading your mind, he suddenly opened up the sketchbook, flipping the pages—which revealed beautiful drawings in the split second you saw them—until he landed on a page of a finished sketch, one that you swore looked like you sitting on the train yesterday.

you look up and catch his eye. “is that me?”

“mhm.” he nodded with a soft grin.

his art style was something to be proud of, meant to be showcased in somewhere exquisite like the louvre. could this guy be any more perfect? drop dead gorgeous and talented? to see yourself captured in such a bewitching way was truly the greatest compliment one could ever receive.

the sound of the page ripping away from the binding of the sketchbook startled you. what was he doing? it was so perfect! why mess it all up? you couldn’t help but say something about it.

“what are you—”

“you can have it.” he interrupted you, holding the page in his hands, waiting for you to take it.

“oh…” your cheeks flush as your fingers accidentally grazed over his upon grabbing the sketch. “thank you.”

you almost felt bad holding this in your hands, afraid of ruining it just by the touch of your hand. how could he just let you have this without hesitation? even if this was a drawing of you, it felt like you didn’t deserve to have it.

you examine the drawing down to the details of the clouds behind you. you look for some sort of signature, assuming every artist had one in hopes to find a name. in the bottom corner, you see the name “hyunjin” written in cursive. you had finally put a name to your beautiful stranger.

“hyunjin?” you attempt to pronounce his name. your accent did you no favors, but you tried your best regardless. he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion until you pointed to where his signature was, then receiving a nod confirming that was his name.

“hwang hyunjin.” he said slowly. you repeat his name in full, speaking slower than him to make sure you were saying it correctly as you desperately didn’t want to screw it up. hyunjin, as you’ve now learned, gave you a nod of approval once you’ve won the battle with your accent.

“i’m y/n l/n.” you tell him. it would be awfully rude if he didn’t learn your name, after all. it seemed hyunjin didn’t seem to struggle at all when it came to pronouncing your name. his english was far better than yours, which wasn’t a shock as he seemed to be so insanely perfect in every aspect possible.

“are you an artist?” you ask, making an assumption based on the clues given to you the past two days. if he were anything else, you’d be surprised.

“i sing and dance.” hyunjin replied. you couldn’t believe his perfection could get any greater, but it just did. it would shock you if you learned your once beautiful stranger was a world famous one.

“well, your art is lovely.” you say.

“thank you.” he blushed shyly. to hyunjin, it felt so nice being treated like a normal person, appreciated for his art above all else. while there was no denying you found him to be the most breathtaking person you’d ever seen, there was more beneath the surface, and hyunjin was grateful to be seen for what he loves to do.

“is this your first time in paris?” you question, a chuckle escaping hyunjin’s lips over your pronunciation of your homeland. you were trying to get as much information out of him as possible before you were tortured with reaching your stop and leaving him once more. you had to take this chance while the universe let you have it.

“this is one of my favorite places to visit.” hyunjin said. truth be told, he always loved paris for its scenery and art, but yesterday he found one more reason to love it. is there any other place to love better than a city known all about that?

a visitor’s perspective was certainly different than the perspective of someone who’s lived here their whole life. there were so many reasons to love paris when you didn’t experience the greatest things about it everyday. to you, it was the same old thing. but to hyunjin, it was like a brand new experience each time in the rare event that he visited. but meeting each other allowed the both of you the ability to find something new to appreciate about this city.

“the eiffel tower gets old after a while.” you joke. hyunjin burst into a fit laughter, one more obnoxious than his calm chuckle from before. it infected you instantly, and you craved more of his laugh now that you’ve fully heard it.

hyunjin calmed himself down, letting out a sigh as he leaned his head back with his eyes closed and a grin on his face. he was truly the most beautiful person you had ever seen. “i hope i never get sick of this place.”

“i hope you never do.” you tell him, looking at his face as if he were a sculpture in a museum. “don’t wear it out.”

“i won’t.” he opened his eyes and responded to you, his smile not going away as you gazed into each other’s eyes.

you can’t help but stare at one another, almost like magnets pulling you together. was it normal to feel like this about someone you barely know? even so, it felt like you knew hyunjin before you ever met. such a thought would seem like insanity to someone else, but not to you, at least not in the moment.

your once unwavering stare was unfortunately interrupted by the sudden thrash of the train stopping. you look out the window and recognize it as your stop. if you were crazy enough, you’d stay on the train until they kicked you out, but you weren’t all that brave enough to try your luck. maybe you were better off savoring this moment for what it was; just a moment with a beautiful man who was once a stranger to you.

“ah, that’s my stop.” you say with a frown. hyunjin’s smile from before faded too. it was clear neither of you wanted this to end.

“oh, alright.” he replied. hyunjin watched as you quickly collected your things, not forgetting the drawing he gave you when you first sat next to him. you would cherish it as long as you could, and he could only hope that’s what you’ll do.

“maybe i’ll see you on the stage here someday, yeah?” you force a smile. you were actually sad to see this end, but if you keep a grin on your face, then maybe it’ll hurt a little less.

“yeah…” hyunjin nodded. “i hope you do.”

“bye, hyunjin.” you wave goodbye, hyunjin doing the same.

“thank you for making the train less boring for me.” you get those final words out before following the line of people exiting the train. hyunjin kept his eye on you for as long as he could, even staring out the window as you disappeared into the sea of people. if only he could have went with you.

“bye, y/n.” he said to himself, clutching the sketchbook that once held his masterpiece; a drawing of you, his beautiful stranger.

•••

on the third day, hyunjin was nowhere to be seen. you saw it coming, really. you knew last night was probably your final chance to ever see him again. still, a part of you hoped he’d magically appear on the train when you went to work the next morning.

the thrill you once had was no more. the spark lit aflame in your heart all gone. you weren’t sure if anyone would make you feel the same way hyunjin did. maybe meeting him was a lesson, something to teach you what the city of love was truly about, what you’ve failed at your entire life. at least now you were able to succeed, even if such a success was temporary.

you were thankful that your once black and white world finally had some saturation in it for once. if you were to meet hyunjin once again, no matter what the circumstance may be, the world would be in full bloom. you would look for him in everything you see, down to the bakeries you’ll eat at and sceneries you’d visit, for as long your thoughts echoed his name.

while your routine became repetitive once more, at least you had hyunjin’s image in your brain and his drawing in a picture frame on your shelf. if you were as talented as him, you’d try your hand at drawing him too, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to capture him like your eyes ever did. at least you have the memories.

hyunjin dreaded watching you leave, and he hated it even more when he left for the airport in the morning. he wondered if you thought about where he went, hoping you thought about him like he did now with you. you’d remain ingrained in his mind. whenever hyunjin thought about paris, a place he loved just as much as his hometown, he would think about you too.

he couldn’t explain this sadness inside him to anyone else. hyunjin couldn’t fathom anybody understanding the feeling of love at first sight like he did. a true romantic at heart, maybe you were the only one to be just as foolish as him when it came to romance. after all, you were instantly captivated by one another.

maybe, just maybe, hyunjin could write a song about this and sing it to the thousands of people he performed for like clockwork. but no matter what the days ahead held, hwang hyunjin, your beautiful stranger, was all that he would ever remain, and you would remain as his.

•••

(bonus)

@hynjinnnn: 파리에 있는 동안 기차에서 이 사람의 모습에 반해 그려보기로 결심했습니다. 나는 그들이 그것을 좋아했기를 바랍니다. 언젠가 다시 보고 싶습니다.

i was enthralled by this person on the train while in paris and decided to draw them. i hope they liked it. i'd love to see them again someday.

© plutoccult / 310802. please do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my content in or outside of tumblr. reblogs are appreciated <3

[capcavan]

🗣️ (also sorry this got long, turns out i have thoughts) so like riko is one of the weirdest fandom cases i've ever seen. i've been in fandoms where characters who commit actual war crimes and genocide are badass babes or uwu soft bois, and even spoiled mafia brats who commit terrible crimes against the heroes for daddy's attention that get love and redemption. it's so weird to see just how isolated from all that riko is to me.

i do think it's partly how aftg is written, and that's also partly because niel's pov is not at all forgiving of riko, while is entirely forgiving of people like andrew. but i also think it's because of how riko himself is written. he's one of these characters that's better on paper than he is in the book to me. because he's never presented as smart enough to fall into the magnificent bastard trope where everyone applauds how devious his plans are, but he's not outright hammy enough to just be a fun read, he doesn't even get the same stupidly dramatic flare as andrew. and while we're told he's powerful and doing dangerous stuff, he's presented on page, more often than not, as a petulant child that neil is just done with or a guy who likes to torture people who neil is also done with. neil is never actually scared of riko, or even particularly threatened by him, and i think that hurts him and makes his position in the narrative weaker. especially when nora is trying to play him as a villain and a threat in a mafia story rather than a good old fashioned rival in a sports drama. for example, his first impression on the kathy show should live up to the hype of this imposing charismatic villain who broke kevin's hand, but instead loses him temper, forgets all of his media training and lets a nobody like neil goad him into losing control of the interview, and then his payback, things like shoving neil around and seth's death, are basically brushed off because neil doesn't really care that much. it's not given the weight to be a seriously omg this guys a threat first impression. and this isn't uncommon, lots of media hamstrings their villains at the start by making sure we know the main character is too sassy for them and can humiliate them, without thinking about how weak that can make the villain seem. it feels sometimes like nora wanted riko to be this chess master villain or tragic child who's lashing out at the world, without committing to it fully to either, or was just not an experienced enough writer to have known how to write either of those things in the pov of someone who hates riko's guts, which is understandable, writing is hard and that sort of nuance takes practice, especially if you just go by the books and not the extra content, and i do wonder how differently nora would have portrayed riko if she rewrote the main trilogy now with presumably a lot more practice under her belt. in the end riko ends up in this weird grey area to me where i understand why he's not popular, given he has none of the usual obvious traits that fans like to latch onto when redeeming a villainous character, and even the ones that are there are glossed over pretty quickly because of neil's pov, and a lot of his more interesting pieces are on paper not actively presented in the book, and not everyone reads super deep, but i also don't understand the amount of hate. i have literally never seen a character in any other fandom i've been in have this much fandom wide hatred.

See I have nothing to add here because you single handedly dropped the best analysis of Riko's character in the series I had pleasure to read so far and summed up all my feelings about why and what of the fandom. If the goal was to write a character that is impactful yet easy to hate then that goal was achieved but for me it real takes away form the magnitude of feelings Riko could evoke in reader and questions he could provoke in narrative if he was given bit different presentation that woudl still align with the lore we already have.

[latoyalestrange]

primal

r. weasley x f!reader

summary: the secret was out. you couldn't lie to get out of it either. even if you tried, nothing could stop the primal urges ron was feeling.

words: idk

warnings: ya'll i'm not gonna lie i was for sure in high school when i wrote this. it's not bad but its certainly not good. wanted to share it anyway incase anyone actually likes it lol. VERY SMUTTY MINORS DNI!!

You sat peacefully on your bed, a candle flickering about next to you as you read up on magical creatures. You had decided to skip out on free period to have some alone time. It was completely silent...at least for a moment it was. A loud booming of footsteps was trailing towards your door at an alarmingly fast pace. You quickly shut your book, blew out the candle and walked towards the door. Before you could reach it, however, it was swung open by none other than Ron Weasley.

"Oh- Merlin, Ron- it's just you- You scared the shit out of me!" You huffed, smiling at him. Your happy expression dropped when you saw the flicker of pure lust in Ron's eyes.

"Ron-" was all you could say before he pushed you up against the wall, breathing heavily.

"You've fancied me for seven years and never told me?" He shouted gently at you. You gulped.

"Yes- Yes, I suppose I did do that," You stammered out, taken aback by Ron's sudden aggressiveness.

"Why? Why the bloody hell would you do that?" His eyes grew into a desperate look as he sunk lower, as if he were growing limp as he held you.

"I don't- I don't know-" You let out a nervous chuckle. He sighed and rested his head on top of your breasts, hugging your waist. You patted his fiery orange hair awkwardly, unsure what to say or do. Suddenly, he rose to tower you and put his hands above your head against the wall.

"Y/N, listen to me," he began, his breath loud again. You swallowed hard once again.

"I want to fuck you...right here, right now," A pit of warmth at the bottom of our stomach sprouted after he said this.

"O-okay," You stuttered. Oh, Merlin, what have I gotten myself into?

He gripped your thigh roughly, demanding you to jump onto his waist. He pushed you up against the wall, keeping one hand on your thigh, and the other on your jaw. He kissed you deeply, sending a shudder down your spine. You gasped, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. You gripped the collar of his shirt, deepening the kiss, if it was possible. His hands made their way to the pockets of your jeans, making your lower body tingle.

He quickly made his way over to your bed with you still clinging to him. He pushed you onto the bed gently, careful not to seem barbaric. You crawled backwards onto the bed, positioning yourself with your head near the headboard. He sprung onto you, straddling your hips. He tightened his knees, creating pressure between your legs. He leaned over, his breath still heavy from the animalistic desire he had for you. He kissed your collar bones, and you let out a high pitched, quiet moan.

"You have no idea the things I've wanted to do to you for years, Y/N," He growled in your ear. You bit your lip, chocking back a moan.

"Jesus, Ronald," You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. Your passiveness motivated him. This is what you'd been waiting for. This is why you'd been single since you'd met Ron. Just the measly hope that this moment would come kept you committed and devoted to Ronald.

He sat up and ripped off his knitted jumper. He smirked at your still fully clothed body. He began to fidget with the buttons of your blouse. Now, this was fun. It was your turn to tease him. He was having trouble with just the first button. You swatted his hands away after a few moments and began to unbutton your shirt slowly. He watched intently, button after button as he grew more frustrated.

"Damnit, Y/N," He ripped your blouse open, sending buttons flying. "I'll buy you a new blasted blouse," He huffed, attacking your neck and chest with kisses. You pulled the remains of your shirt out from under you and tossed it across the room. You twisted your fingers in his soft locks, begging him to kiss you more passionately. He lifted your leg up to his side, pulling him close to you. You could feel his bulge on your stomach through his jeans. You slid your hand downward and gripped the area, hardening his already firm erection.

      "Ffffuck," He muttered. He jumped off of you and struggled to unravel his belt. You just simply lay there, teasing him. He kicked his pants and boxers both away carelessly. He ripped your jeans down to your ankles, not caring enough to take them off of you completely. He crawled under your jeans and slid between your bare legs. He swiped his tongue quickly over your heat, causing a throaty moan to roll out of your mouth. He perched your legs on top on his shoulders, exposing yourself to him. He looked up at you as he dove into you, his tongue creating fast circles around your clit with his hands on your hips. You gripped the duvet.

      "Shit- FUCK, Ron!" You called out for him to give you the touch you really wanted. He crawled on top of you, kissing you lustfully. Your legs now wrapped around his waist, you composed yourself before he entered you. You winced, letting out a breathy whimper.

      His pace started out painfully slow, making you buck your hips to signal that you wanted him to go faster. Giving any sign that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you, drove Ron crazy.

      He started to thrust faster, deeper into you. You gripped his shoulders, tightening your hold on his waist. You started to let out short, loud moans, one after another as they corresponded with his thrusts.

      "I-I'm alm-most th-there," You whimpered in his ear. He picked up the pace, sending you into a moaning mess. Your toes curled inside of your socks and your eyes shut tightly as you held your breath, feeling an orgasmic eruption take place inside of you. One hand almost tore open the duvet, and the other was gripping Ron's hair.

      His pace got gradually slower, keeping himself inside of you as you tried to catch your breath.

      "Shit..." You whispered before he fell on top of you. You cupped his cheeks and looked into his eyes for a moment. A mischievous smirk grew onto your face as a light bulb turned on in your head. You bit his ear and kissed  under his jaw before saying,

      "Your turn," He looked at the clock on your bedside table and gave you a look of defeat.

"Free period is over in two minutes," He whined. You smirked and chuckled at his desire to have you again.

"I guess you'll just have to wait until tomorrow then, won't you, Ron?" You teased. His eyes widened at you.

"Tomorrow? Why not tonight?" He protested, shifting his arms from under your back to a more upright position. You couldn't help but smile at him.

      "Tomorrow," You whispered. His head fell into your chest as another act of defeat.

      "Now get off me, we'll be late for Potions," You patted his chest. He looked up at you, an eyebrow raised.

      "You need to get your priorities straight," You faked being offended and poked his arm.

      "For your information, Weasley, i already have my priorities straight...I'm just not sure if I want to give into you so easily," He gave you a confused expression.

      "What do you mean?" He asked. You laughed devilishly.

      "Oh, Ron...you have no idea what's in store for you tomorrow,"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your day started off with bumping into Ron on your way to Herbology.

"Please, Y/N, how long are you going to make me wait? Let's just skip-" You cut him off with a kiss, your hand under his chin.

"Free period, Ron. It's not that far away," You chuckled, pretending you didn't want him as much as he wanted you. He cupped your cheeks with each of his hands, denying that you let him go with just one kiss.

      "Four hours is enough to drive me mad, Y/N," He whispered. You bit your lip and looked down. You were truly like a drug to him. As soon as he had a taste of you, he couldn't get enough.

"How am I supposed to get through potions? I sit behind you, you know,"

"That's the fun part," You smirked at him, turning away and beginning to walk towards your classroom. You purposefully swayed your hips, teasing him from a far.

***

You quickly tried to make your way to potions, hoping that Ron wouldn't be able to catch you before class started. But, knowing that you had this class together, Ron hurried too, so he wouldn't be with Harry or Hermione. You were just about to enter when a pair of strong hands grabbed your waist and pulled you back. You were pushed up against the wall. Ron towered over you, one arm over your head and the other hanging weakly on his side.

"Please don't make me sit through this torture," He whined. "Just seeing you in the hallways make me want to-" He was cut off by Professor Snape.

"Makes you want to what, Mr, Weasley?" He asked in his familiar stern voice. Ron quickly took his arm to his side and nervously turned his head to Professor Snape.

"N-nothing, Professor," He stammered out. Professor Snape looked at the both of you for a moment.

"Detention. Both of you, after school," Ron's face turned from nervous, to excited, to a fake disappointed look.

"Into class. Now,"

***

When lunch came, the hour before free period, Ron was practically clawing the tables in the dining hall. Ron and Hermione were talking about Draco. Ron tried to pay attention and focus on the conversation, but you were purposefully rubbing your ankles together to distract him. He looked over at you.

"Y/N! I swear to Merlin," He mouthed to you with his teeth gritted. You giggled quietly, blushing at him. His face softened, a corner of his mouth turning up. It wasn't a smirk, though, it was his adoring smile, one that could make you think you were he most special girl in the world. His eye brows raised and his whole face flushed with red.

It made you feel incredible to have known that with just a smile you could change his mood completely.

"Mother of Merlin, you're gorgeous," He said in astonishment over your two friends sitting next to you. They stopped talking immediately and looked at the both of you. You buried your head in your hands, blushing furiously. Even though it was just your two friends, it felt like the entire room went silent.

"You're a subtle man, Ron," Harry joked at Ron's side, patting his back. He kept staring at you with the same, loving look.

***

Free period had finally came. As you were all dismissed, you shot a quick glance at Ron before racing to the crowded exit. You slipped through numerous people, hoping that Ron was still behind you. You were cautious not to run, so you wouldn't get another detention. You heard footsteps trail behind you, and a smile grew onto your face. Ron's hands met your waist, tickling your sides gently. You let out a giggle, and so did he. His hand found yours as he lead you to the stair well, being careful to watch the changing directions of them. Once you reached the opening of the commons room, he blurted out the password, and you were granted access.

      He practically dragged you into the room. You were guided into the boy's dorm, slowly backing away from Ron with an undeniably happy smile on your face as he fidgeted with the door. He quickly turned around, a lion ready to pounce on his prey. He charged towards you and his arms wrapped around your waist as you fell onto his bed. He straddled you, peppering your neck with kisses.

      This time was different than the last. This time was slow, and loving. You knew he loved you, and he knew you loved him. It wasn't just sex. It was everything you'd wanted for the last seven years.

      Your head was perched on his pillow, his bare body hovering over yours as he thrusted into you. His hair brushed your forehead as he picked up his pace. You bit his freckled shoulder, holding back a blood curdling moan. You could feel yourself reaching your point, everything inside of you ready to burst at the seams. You abruptly wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his neck as tears welled in your eyes. You let out a whimper.

      He stopped, pulling away and looking at you with a concerned look in his eyes.

      "Am I hurting you? I can stop if it hurts," He breathed out, rubbing a tear away from your burning cheeks.

      "Maybe we should've waited-" He was cut off by your lips being pressed against his in a lustful kiss.

      "Ron, it doesn't hurt...I'm just really happy," You whispered, another tear streaming down your rosy features.

      He looked at you with an expression you couldn't read. You lowered you head with embarrassment.

      "Y/N?" Your eyes peered up at him.

      "I'm in love with you," Ron chuckled breathily, leaning down to kiss your swollen lips. You instinctively kissed him back, twisting your hands in his fiery locks. Once he pulled away, he took another moment to soak it all in.

      "Never leave me, F/N L/N," He spoke softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. Your lips met the tip of his adorably spotted nose.

      "Never,"

[risingsuntarot]

1--2

3

What are you currently not seeing ?

My lord I'm so sorry I've been gone for so long I kinda jus felt so unmotivated and kinda went hermit mode for quite a while so I apologize for my absence!! Anyways I wanted to make a come back with a reading regarding being trapped, blinded or stuck on something that is unfortunately, hindering your process ;+(

Also * will indicate a reversal from here on out also only three piles because I wanted to get this out ASAP !!

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Pile 1

---Cards pulled---

5 of Coins/4 of Wands*/The magician

3 of coins*/The Moon

---Clarification---

9 of coins/9 of Swords/The hierophant

Ace of wands/3 of wands

There is most likely a financial or material issue happening, I heard "just enough to get by"

It looks like you lack in what you currently need as well? But despite this you are content or try to come off that way

Maybe you just moved into your own apartment recently? Or now have to pay rent or something along those lines

A new responsibility within your family/home life too

There's a lack of confidence here especially within self and home life

Something or someone in your home isn't making you feel quite safe? Or you get nightmares about them (if this is the case please seek help!!) that might be a very specific message BUT Could also be ready as you may be dealing with flashbacks at this time due to financial or material loss !! Maybe you grew up in poverty or an unstable home? Or your parents/caregivers weren't able to provide necessities?

It looks like with the magician and the hierophant there is a gift on the horizon or a very promising belief or like system? Maybe a change in routine or spending habits and thinking will help tremendously

I see that on your end for some your guides are frustrated with your lack of effort and motivation to make your thousands of ideas a reality

They absolutely love your creativity tho don't get me wrong

Maybe you have a hard time focusing right now and have many great ideas to put into place but lack motivation or resources as well so this leads to lack of movement or commitment

Sadness, restless emotions and late sleepless nights are prominent here, someone may deal with insomnia here but y'all sleep schedule is wack (same tho)

Feeling blocked and frustrated >:+(

---ORACLE/ADVICE---

Summer - "Bask in Joy and Light"

"Rise up, open your wings and shine. Bring your projects and plans into into the light, into manifestation" as soon as I opened the guidebook lil

DEADASS do that's just that, start off easy with a lobes hobby, draw something new or listen to a new genre, learn that new music sheet that has been challenging you or even get into a new type of skill to re motivate you !!

This also indicates summer may be your time of change!! New opportunities, new memories maybe even knew people

I feel like this is the perfect time to go outside, bask in sunlight and enjoy a nearby park or go on a nature hike, try meeting new people at libraries, bars or events even book clubs?

I'm getting a message to connect more with water so swimming or maybe even kayaking?

The big message here is try something n e w but I'm also being told to "loosen up" I'm tensing up a lot with this reading

Bumble bees maybe significant to someone :+) or honeycombs cereal? Lmao honey and bee related things here

---Channeled Songs---

Ego brain - SOAD

"You see my pain is real

Watch my world dissolve

And pretend that none of us see the fall

As I turned to sand

You took me by the hand

And declared, that love prevails over all"

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Pile 2

---Cards pulled---

Temperance/9 of Wands/Ace of cups*

Knight of Coins/6 of Wands

---Clarification---

5 of Coins/The Lovers*/8 of Coins

The Moon/Queen of Wands

Okay so there's a sense for reluctance from this pile tbh like to fully acknowledge the truth

I keep wanting to say what happened so you may be being asked this question a lot

For one there is guilt over either healing and moving on or from not healing and moving on from a difficult situation but for most it's a romantic connection

I feel like voices were silenced, and you were constantly fighting for you right to be heard, seen or acknowledged fairly

It was a toxic dynamic that you still look back on to this day but almost feel indifferent but it seems it's just suppressed emotions and memories that you have yet to actually acknowledge

You seem to be a BIT too logical with what happened, like everything was supposed to be this way even this you didn't at all anticipate it if that makes sense

Like you knew what it was exactly, no bs and people tried convincing you otherwise

It looks like someone may come to you to talk about what happened although you may be reluctant to actually open up and speak on your side or even acknowledge that it hurts

It's like you go on about your day with a heavy rain cloud over your head and this person can see :+(

it maybe a friend to help you through this for some possibly offering you a type of hype sesh or even help you glow up a bit even if it's confidence lol

---ORACLE/ADVICE---

Wolf- "Take care of your needs"

I feel like you definitely need rest here, this card says "Do everything you need to do to be at your best, Then move beyond your fears and limitations"

it feels like a state of I can FINALLY get some rest from running and running and running

You've been in survival mode for so long or you just genuinely feel exhausted from the expectations around you or the trauma in your past

Know that's it's okay to just chill out and it's okay to be on your own for a while it's all part of the process, in fact I believe your guides are asking you to spend time with yourself more

Self care and YouTube days are recommend :+))

---Channeled Songs---

Around the fur - Deftones

"Please don't fuck around and die like this

'Cause I love her"

Brand new numb - Motionless in white

"All of my flaws, I wear 'em with honor

A purple heartbreak for all we've suffered"

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Pile 3

---Cards pulled---

The Hierophant*/King of cups/4 of Swords

Wheel of fortune/5 of wands*

---Clarification---

Ace of Swords*/5 of Swords/Queen of Coins

The Hermit*/Queen of Cups

This may be a more masculine in terms of energy for this pile but I'll still read the same

So it seems there was a hypocrisy or an act that went against your morals and you were quick to act and deliver your opinion... "sharply"

You stood your ground and what you believed in in your heart despite the haters lol, and despite the arguments or how many people you had to leave behind something about conflict here

Although the way you did this was quite nonchalantly and someone was not a fan I'm picking up on black hair and green for the description for some reason

This person tends to be the center of attention? Or is very attractive, or maybe even a bit out of place almost ? But you not caring is pissing them off

I see there's gonna be change to the situation but someone may have to trail off onto their own path :+( a bit shunned almost but it's a high probability it's this other person

It's possible someone with the same morals and values as you is helping the conflict "die out" but not caring or almost standing in solidarity

---ORACLE/ADVICE---

High Priest - "Intend and Create"

"Recognize you have the power to change you life. Face your fear and align with the light"

Kind of a plain message but with this card I am getting that you can literally move anyway you want with this and just move on

It seems your intentions were nothing but pure in the end so no Karma was ever delivered to you

How unfortunate for the other person :+pp

It also seems some may follow in your path a bit here but spirits asking you to reach out to someone like a teacher for further guidance if you feel stuck

---Channeled Songs---

Riptide - Grandson

"I've tried getting better, did all of the twelve steps

Whoever would'a thought? Whoever could've guessed?"

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

[fantastic-nonsense]

Now that we're a few months on from Batgirls ending, and with solicits out for the next few months, how are you feeling about where they're situated within DC right now?

(With the possible exception of Babs. I suspect I know exactly how you feel about Babs, because I feel very similar. About how she's situated in DC. right now.)

My short answer for how DC is treating the Batgirls right now is "much better than where they were in 2020 but significantly worse than where they should be, especially compared to all of the Robins."

In order, I think Cassandra is (ironically, considering the history there) being treated the best, being given the meatiest stories, and being utilized in ways that actually showcase her motivations and skillset. She co-starred in Spirit World, is a major supporting character in Ram V's Detective Comics run, and is now co-starring in Birds of Prey. Her pre-reboot history and characterization has basically been completely restored (except for that awful era we Do Not Talk About™, which. good.) and we have a concrete and tangible narrative direction for her again. Frankly, it's absolutely wild to be a Cass fan in 2023 seeing how she's being treated right now after 15+ years of some of the worst character treatment imaginable.

Barbara is in a very distant second place largely because of the implied elephant in the room (Tom Taylor's usage of her in the Nightwing book, the ableism, and DC's stubborn refusal to commit to letting her be Oracle full-time again). I'm also still....very frustrated and upset by Kelly Thompson's decision to relaunch Birds of Prey without her given that Babs has headlined BOP since the very beginning, in every iteration of the team, and the team would not exist without her. However, I do have to note that she's once again being showcased as a fully grown adult woman, is being regularly featured in comics, and is being utilized as Oracle in books like Ram V's Tec run, so there's potential there despite no one at DC seemingly being very interested in doing anything substantial with her beyond letting her be "Dick's computer geek girlfriend."

Which ultimately puts her above Stephanie...who basically isn't appearing anywhere significant now that Batgirls has ended and she's not dating Tim anymore. Which is...not great, to put it mildly. If you ask me why that's happened, it's because Steph has spent the majority of her appearances since her reintroduction back in 2014 being treated as "Tim's girlfriend" rather than her own character with her own wants, goals, and potential storylines. So where does she go now that Tim's dating Bernard? I don't know, but none of the writers at DC seem very interested in doing anything with her right now.

This treatment is of course very much in contrast to every single male Robin and ex-Robin character...where everyone except Tim (whose dedicated solo ongoing just finished) will either have active solo ongoings (Dick, Damian) or a solo mini (Jason) running as of February 2024. The difference in treatment is stark...but of course, that's nothing new to fans of the Batfam women. At least Kate is getting some chance to shine over in Outsiders, I guess, however poorly titled the book is.

[ereana]

Alhaitham X Cyno - How am I supposed to spoil you when you won’t accept my gifts?

Alhaitham has a problem.

It’s one that has been building up over the past few months until it’s finally reached a point where he can no longer ignore it. Research has unfortunately yielded few answers and his own personal knowledge on the subject assures him that unless the issue is addressed nothing will change.

What is the problem that has confounded the Grand Scribe and former Acting Grand Sage of the Akademiya? Why none other than the General Mahamatra himself.

To clarify Cyno himself is not a problem, or rather if he is one then he is a lovely problem. The kind that leaves Alhaitham reeling as his thoughts are scattered to the four winds. The kind of problem that requires strong commitment to untangle, a lifetime of study would only barely be enough to fully comprehend it.

No, the true problem is that Cyno refuses to accept any of Alhaitham’s gifts. After an extremely lengthy courting process that mainly consisted of what Dehya called ‘mutually intolerable pining without either of you dumbasses doing a damn thing about it’ they had finally entered a romantic relationship. Frankly he didn’t believe the words properly conveyed the depth of his feelings for Cyno but he had more pressing matters to worry about than a way to describe the exhilarating mix of devotion, longing and soul-crushing joy that had carved a messy hole in his chest.

It was hard to believe that Cyno felt the same way but he knew better than to doubt his general’s word. Not unless he wanted to find himself emotionally flayed open, bleeding love through claw marks as Cyno worshiped him in the darkness of their room.

No, that was a course of action best saved for a special day.

The root of the matter was Cyno’s sense of duty to his role. The General Mahamatra had to be neutral, unbiased to any particular group or scholar and in line with this anything that could be constituted as a bribe was swiftly returned to the sender. Alhaitham knows that his own stint as Acting Grand Sage had not helped matters as the last thing Cyno needed was to be perceived as under the influence of the Grand Sage. It was one of the reasons they hadn’t gotten together until Alhaitham had finally been able to step down. Even then there had been a heated argument over whether it was appropriate for the General and the Grand Scribe to involve themselves in a romantic entanglement. 

Alhaitham had never fought so fiercely for anything before in his life and had earned his victory with every scrap of intellect he possessed.

So any gifts he gave to Cyno were politely returned or refused.

Wealth? Alhaitham never bothered to send money because Cyno was richer than him and it was the most obvious gift that could be construed as a bribe.

Flowers? A traditional gift suggested by Nilou. He had imported a rare breed of lily from Fontaine which had subsequently ended up as part of Tighnari’s next research project.

TCG cards? The one time he’d tried that with his own card, the only one Cyno could not get before Alhaitham himself, Cyno had insisted on winning it off him in a fair game and refused to just accept it. Though Alhaitham didn’t consider that a loss because Cyno had been so distracted by the sight of his own card in Alhaitham’s deck that it had take him three games to win it, allowing Alhaitham to enjoy the sight of his lover’s blushing face as ruby red eyes kept drifting to the purple and gold card.

Books? Cyno had suggested he donate them to Aaru Village to help with their new library, despite knowing full well Alhaitham was working with Candace to fill the modestly sized building as soon as possible. 

Alcohol? This was always taken but then shared at the next gathering of friends which diminished the uniqueness of a gift for Cyno. Especially when Kaveh seemed to drink most of the expensive wine.

Practical gifts were difficult to procure because Cyno was a very practical man and already had most of the things he needed. He kept them in good repair with his usual diligence which meant Alhaitham couldn’t even buy him a replacement.

After a month of pondering over this problem and failing to find a solution Alhaitham settles on asking Cyno directly. While some, Kaveh, would decry this as unromantic Alhaitham disagrees. Communication is a vital component in all relationships; words, actions, gestures, expressions and he is determined to do this right. He refuses to even entertain the possibility of making a mistake because he wasn’t clear in his intentions.

“How am I supposed to spoil you when you won’t accept my gifts?” He asks bluntly the next time he meets Cyno.

This happens to be during their shared lunch break in which Cyno coaxes him up the branches of the Divine Tree, with only minor grumbling, to the very top so they can look out over the forest together.

Cyno pauses in reaching for his drink and turns to face him. He eyes Alhaitham curiously, that brilliant mind working to piece together the reason behind the sudden question.

“Is this because of the Lakelight Lilies?”

“Not just them. It’s come to my attention that you seem to dislike receiving gifts from me, I can’t tell if this is a phenomenon linked only to myself or to a wider range of people but I fail to see the reason why. You are my partner—

“—boyfriend.” Cyno cuts in with a smile.

“You know how I feel about that word — and I wish to show you proof of my affection. You’re making that very hard to do by either refusing or giving away everything I offer, I’m starting to feel a little rejected.” Alhaitham finishes with a teasing smile of his own to take the sting out of his words.

Cyno huffs and shakes his head, looking at Alhaitham with unmistakable fondness.

“I don’t need those types of gifts Haitham.”

“You may not need them but if you want something then I want to give it to you.” Alhaitham murmurs, taking Cyno’s hand in his own and pressing a kiss to the back of his palm.

“Foolish man, you already spoil me enough.” Cyno rolls his eyes but doesn’t pull his hand back, and Alhaitham eagerly drinks in the red flush blooming across dark cheeks. “Your time, your affections.”

Cyno puts his free hand on Alhaitham’s chest.

“Your heart.” He says firmly. “You have placed all of these things at my feet and yet believe you haven’t spoiled me. How can that possibly be when you have given me everything I have ever dreamed about already?”

Part of Alhaitham’s mind starts to form a counterargument to Cyno’s eloquently put point. He considers himself a smart man, which is why the rest of him can focus on the delightful task of kissing Cyno breathless with all of Sumeru stretched out below them as he gifts himself to his beloved one more time. 

[keepersofthegate]

Every age has its own outlook. It is specially good at seeing certain truths and specially liable to make certain mistakes. We all, therefore, need the books that will correct the characteristic mistakes of our own period. And that means the old books.

All contemporary writers share to some extent the contemporary outlook—even those, like myself, who seem most opposed to it. Nothing strikes me more when I read the controversies of past ages than the fact that both sides were usually assuming without question a good deal which we should now absolutely deny. They thought that they were as completely opposed as two sides could be, but in fact they were all the time secretly united—united with each other and against earlier and later ages—by a great mass of common assumptions.

We may be sure that the characteristic blindness of the twentieth century—the blindness about which posterity will ask, “But how could they have thought that?”—lies where we have never suspected it, and concerns something about which there is untroubled agreement between Hitler and President Roosevelt or between Mr. H. G. Wells and Karl Barth. None of us can fully escape this blindness, but we shall certainly increase it, and weaken our guard against it, if we read only modern books. Where they are true they will give us truths which we half knew already. Where they are false they will aggravate the error with which we are already dangerously ill.

The only palliative is to keep the clean sea breeze of the centuries blowing through our minds, and this can be done only by reading old books. Not, of course, that there is any magic about the past. People were no cleverer then than they are now; they made as many mistakes as we. But not the same mistakes. They will not flatter us in the errors we are already committing; and their own errors, being now open and palpable, will not endanger us. Two heads are better than one, not because either is infallible, but because they are unlikely to go wrong in the same direction. To be sure, the books of the future would be just as good a corrective as the books of the past, but unfortunately we cannot get at them.

— C. S. Lewis, On The Reading of Old Books, introduction to Athanasius' On the Incarnation

[youphoriaot7]

...okay. I'm still trying to get my thoughts together so this might be a bit rambly, but bear with me.

The more I look at the black shulker investigations that Cellbit did around the time of the election dinner, the more I believe the Federation intercepted him rather than manipulated him.

The information that was discovered through the mission was a lot of stuff that was super private to the Federation: he found evidence that the Federation knew about the Code Sword prior to Etoiles even knowing it existed, he saw mention of the Federation doing experimentation and tests long before Baghera or even Jaiden's plotlines came to light, he found Project A0 weeks before we heard about Egg A1. (And none of this is me bashing on other plotlines; don't twist my words.) [The ultimate culmination of the investigation was the Code Sword, so it seems as though there may be a tie there—which, if the Codes are currently using the black concrete, would make sense.]

When he got to the final coordinates that the shulkers led him to, however, there was another book inside that shulker with more coords. This struck me as weird at the time, and still bothers me—because the final book had told him to leave the evidence at the coordinates; so why say that only to give him more coordinates?

But the final shulker was out in the open: it would be fairly easy to find and drop a book inside. If you knew what you were looking for.

Switching gears a bit—if I'm not wrong, all of Bagi's childhood lore fragments have also come in black shulkers, not chests or white shulkers. All of her information has been stuff I'm absolutely certain the Federation would not want her to know about or remember, especially if/considering they had something to do with it all.

If the Federation is order, control, and perfection—white—then this new...thing is chaos, luck, and confusion—black.

I think those black shulker investigations were just an exceptionally early introduction to whatever the third player in this island's chess game is. One of the books Cellbit received then said that they "share[d] a common enemy," and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. If it was from the Codes, would that be referencing the Federation? If it was truly the Federation tricking him the whole time, would it mean the Codes? Why would they say that; acknowledge the Codes in private like that? Either way doesn't really seem to fully click into place. Not to mention he was investigating both parties at the same time: the Code Sword and the Federation's tests/experiments.

This...black shulker association(? ksjdfg) doesn't seem fully aligned with either the Federation nor the Codes: I think they're a "neutral" third party. They might be working together with the Codes at the moment, what with the Codes helping the eggs to communicate(??? still not positive that's what's happening) but I don't think they're the same entity.

The black organization seems to simply be committed to giving out information the Federation doesn't want people to know.

To add another piece to this puzzle, look at Hombre Misterioso and ¿?. (Which I consider two different people—one being the mysterious figure that was torturing (/lh) Cellbit, one being the man that gave Maxo the plans for SOFIA.) If we consider that both of them are also a part of this black concrete association(? skfjg), then they are also doing things that don't quite benefit the Federation or the Codes. The ¿? man seemed wary of the Federation (he told Maxo to "be careful, the Federation may be watching") and just had these masterplans for a giant supercomputer on hand, for whatever reason. Hombre Misterioso seemed to have his own still unknown reasons for torturing Cellbit, but he didn't seem fully aligned with either side either.

Neither of these people really...strengthened the fight for or against the Federation at all; all they did was give us more questions. More confusion. More information. More chaos.

[rise-my-angel]

Reading your rants and realising I don't like Sansa, I just liked the potential of her becoming a blend of Cersei and Margary. But of course that didn't happen. Tragedy.

Precursor, this is not meant to shame anyone for liking late show Sansa nor am I trying to change anyone's opinions on her. This is just me explaining the main core concepts of my problems with her post season 4 characterization.

Late show Sansa always felt like they were experimenting with making her a more vindictive and manipulative character but never wanted to commit. I think they wanted Sansa to be both the developing Cersei, but also to let her become Queen in the North but had no idea how to make that happen, so it's why she never is committed to this new persona.

She switches between loving sister and horribly manipulative. Her cold, uncaring attitude does not come off as a jaded result of trauma it comes off as trying to make her a stone faced girl boss. Early show Sansa isn't my favorite character but she feels real and she feels like she grows as a person.

Her costumes show this. Season 1 she starts dressing more like Cersei to show her priorities lie in fitting in with what she thinks will be her new family. Season 2 when everything starts to weigh down on her she starts dressing like Catelyn showing her making unconcious ties with her family by dressing like the mother she is forced to publically denounce as a traitor. Season 3 and start of 4 she dresses more like Margaery because now shes finding comfort in what seems to be a kind friend. Then the 2nd half of season 4 and part of 5 she dresses darker suddenly and part of it is being in disguise but it's also showcasing her time with Petyr Baelish is turning her different. Season 6 onward she dressed exactly the same way they were also dressing Cersei but with none of the reasons why behind it.

Sansa in the late seasons is infuriating to me but lots of her stans misunderstand why. I fully enjoy characters like Cersei (especially book Cersei in affc) where she has genuine complexity but is ultimately manipulative and selfish and does bad things partially because she enjoys the power over people. I love Margaery because there is a good heart in her and Loras, but they are playing the game so well that even though we as the audience see it, not even some of the smartest characters can do anything about it. Margaery is the woman Sansa wanted to be, but Cersei and Petyr are the characters she turned out to be. And I wished they committed to it.

There's a big post I didn't reblog to try and avoid angering any followers of mine who love her, but it outlines exactly why her actions in the Battle of the Bastards plot were essentially evil and malicious and it's why I believe the intent originally was to have her saving the day be a not an act of heroism, but an attempt to coup Jon from any power. I feel like her showing up when she does and finding Jon alive as being not part of her plan to be so much more interesting. Because as SOON as Jon is crowned, she publically disagrees and argues with him in front of the court, complains to people about him in private, argues with him more in private, and when hes gone she starts to stir conflict that leads people to publically say they should've declared her Queen instead of Jon (which is fucking treason to say I will add). Sansa in the books doesnt respect Jon and always saw him as less then, and was the only sibling who still called him her bastard brother, when everyone else had grown to half brother and many eventually dropping that entierly and only thinking of him in terms of an full brother. Sansa inherited Catelyns bastard discriminatory views and she does not respect Jon. And I think she sees herself as Neds lawful heir and sees Jon as being King instead of her as an insult and wishes to find a way to get rid of him either by crippling him in battle, or attempting to coup him through the people he rules. Her actions with Jon is where her characterization is the absolute worst and its where I believe theres the strongest argument to be made that she has developed into someone whom she THINKS is like Margaery, but she actually is just like Cersei and Petyr Baelish.

Which is why Jon starts dressing like Ned, the character he internally is the most aligned in morals and values with. And she starts dressing at the exact same time, like Cersei and Petyr because its them she has become the most like, not Margaery who is always contrasted in light tones and alluring fabrics. (I could make a whole separate post about how Cersei's costumes contrasted with Margaery in season 3 and 4 are brilliant adaptive methods of portraying the internal conflicts between them that were lost in text to screen adaptation the early show costume design was so brilliant and people do not give credit enough for how much world building and thematic hinting the costumes are doing in seasons 1 through 5).

Season 7 Sansa with Arya is hard to describe because so much of it was an attempt at a rug pull to reveal her and Arya were working together. Now that entire sub plot makes NO SENSE and I do not have the time to elaborate on why it's insane, but it also does another thing I hate. It cripples Petyr Baelish as a character just to make Sansa come out on top.

Petyr Baelish is an absolute gift a character and he is the kind of smart that Sansa incorrectly thinks she is. She only comes out on top because they didn't know how to end Petyr's storyline and had Sansa do it to get him out of the way. That and there was just zero acknowledgment that she sat on her chair inside the main hall court and let her little sister slit a man's throat after an unfair and rigged trial. When the King she is sitting in for, would have done what their father would've done. Jon wouldve given him the exact charge of his crimes outright, and brought him outside to properly execute him by his own hand a la, the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.

Season 8 Sansa is the closest she was to bearable since season 4 Sansa, but not because she is well written. She is just slightly less poorly written then whatever the bonkers they were flip flopping Dany between (this is not an anti Sansa/pro Dany blog we hate Dany here too). But the finale shes back to full awful display. She does nothing to give proper defense of Jon, does not bring up the fact that there is literally no fucking proof of what Jon did, doesn't vogue for him doing the right thing (also theres just zero parallels that Jon ultimately realized that the right thing to do was the thing that ruined Jaime Lannisters entire reputation and that he has to simply hope somehow Ned understands the cost of what hes about to do but again my Jaime and Jon paralells rant is not for this post). She simply let's them send to to the Nights Watch and I fully believe she is letting him die alone without the pack because he is the one person who still stands in her way of ruling. She becomes Queen as soon as Jon is finally out of the way and doesn't just be like "hey new queens orders Jon you are pardoned in the north".

She also seems to just be sending the free folk north of the wall too, when in season 5 Jon literally brings them South of the Wall and starts the process of finding them lands in The Gift, a far Northern stretch of land partially controlled by the Nights Watch that is mostly abandoned anyways due to wildling raids. So she doesn't even let them stay in the North when Jon's entire reason for bringing them South was because he understood that the two sides of the North should be coexisting and not fighting so she undoes everything Jon as both Lord Commander and King does, because I think she is doing what she thinks Cersei would've done.

Gotten rid of people with more power then her, so that she can be the one on control.

But, it will never be seen as such because the show refused to commit to it. They made her do these actions but always framed it as her being smart and cool. Sansa wouldn't be insufferable if they just let her be a more malicious, badly intentioned student of Cersei but who wrongly thinks she is as clever as Margaery. Cersei isn't insufferable because we all understand the character complexity behind her worst traits and doesn't pretend she isnt a bad person. The late seasons pretend Sansa is a smart person but not a bad person. But she is. Late show Sansa is insufferable because she is a bad person who I am supposed to pretend is this smart, girlboss who knows better then her strong moraled older brother who is more of a leader then she's ever been.

I've always felt that Sansa's story was leading to her becoming someone far away from the Stark identity, and that the very early killing of Lady was both a symbol for it and a catalyst of it. I think it makes sense her story does not end happily with her finding harmony with her remaining siblings. I think Sansas story makes more sense to end with her standing in opposition to everything the remaining Starks stand for because she has allowed herself to learn the worst lessons from the worst people but doesn't have the self awareness to understand that.

The last time I enjoyed show Sansa was the episode of Jofferys death, because it was the last time I felt like I was watching a real character and not a prop for the writers to turn into a badass.

Also just saying, my own opinion, but late show Sansa should've had a kindling romance with Tyrion (they are still married by the way that was never annulled) and they have a few moments that I found myself desperately wishing they would lean into it. I think it would've made her a little bit more of a rounded character, and it would help lean into the idea of her standing oppose to her family. Finding romance in a Lannister, when her political marriage to Tyrion is literally what caused book Robb to write her out of his line of succession in the first place.

Anyways, uh, no ones reading this by this point but I just think late show Sansa wouldve been a better character had they acknowledged the bad person she had become instead of pretending it all just made her strong and cool.

Queen in the North Sansa makes me 🤢🤮

[poorlittleyaoyao]

Alright! So I'm done reading through the 7seas translation of Volume 2. Overall, there were some parts I really enjoyed and found interesting, but not enough so that I'm going to read the other volumes.

Originally there was just gonna be one post, but Things I Found Really Fun/Interesting are gonna get their own post because hooo boy my explanation of Things That Didn't Work For Me got long.

The bullet point version of Things That Didn't Work For Me:

-I simply do not vibe with Wangxian.

-If WWX's narration is meant to be taken at face value, then this story lacks the nuance people ascribe to it. However, I don't think it leans hard enough into him being an unreliable narrator, especially since the narration sporadically jumps into omniscient or even into other characters' viewpoints with little transition.

-Since I already know the story, WWX's complete lack of reflection re: anything related to his past is a dealbreaker for me.

All of these are expanded on ad nauseam under the cut! I'm making this un-rebloggable because I don't really want a discussion here. None of this is meant to be taken as objective assessment. This isn't a book review or a manifesto; this just my personal reactions. If you came away thinking something completely different, cool! You're not wrong! If you came away thinking something similar, cool! You're not wrong either! I'm just typing it out to solidify my own thoughts, and maybe it'll solidify yours too, whether in agreement or objection.

~~~~

-A big part of why I liked this one more than Volume 1 (and why I got through it much more quickly once I started reading it) is that much of it focused on characters who weren't Wangxian, and even when Wangxian were together, they were usually focused on crime-solving. What I loved about their dynamic in the drama is that they were two very different men who are nonetheless work wonderfully together, learn from each other, and understand each other in a way nobody else does; I want that relationship but without the censorship constraints that prevent it from being explicitly romantic. The novel dynamic of LWJ being hopelessly devoted since they were teens while WWX genuinely doesn't even think they're friends when he returns, with all the romance development coming via Wacky Physical Intimacy Hijinks while LWJ is drunk (and thus won't remember later, meaning that there's no development beyond WWX internally going "haha that was weird! hope he's not mad at me!")... that's not doing it for me, and since that's meant to be the centerpiece of the story, no thanks.

-The narration is so WEIRD. WWX is an unreliable narrator, yes, but I don't feel that the text leans into that hard enough, though I can't vouch for how much of that is due to translation. I got through this genuinely unsure whether we were supposed to find him unreliable, because the thing he's definitely wrong about--LWJ's feelings towards him--is presented slightly differently. Incorrect conclusions about LWJ often come in WWX's inner monologue or are phrased in such a way that it's clear WWX personally thinks this, preceded with a "WWX wondered" or "WWX thought" or something like that. The statements about other characters, however, are often presented as statements of fact: "[Character] was [thing]." WWX's editorializing is never in conflict with those statements, nor does the text provide us with reasons to doubt those assessments the way we do with his takes on LWJ.

-The narration also doesn't stay with WWX. It switches into this quasi-omniscient mode to infodump information that is universally accepted as true and/or that WWX would straight-up not know. The viewpoint sometimes abruptly shifts to other characters entirely--during Yi City, we hear LSZ's inner monologue about the congee and how he feels safe around LWJ and WWX in the middle of a scene that is otherwise told by WWX. The narration's tendency to hop around rather than commit fully to WWX's third-person limited viewpoint makes it unclear what (if anything) we're supposed to doubt, IMO. This might be a personal preference, but I think unreliable narrator only works if nobody else gets interiority (so we're clearly stuck in this person's head) or if other characters get equal and competing interiority (so we can compare and contrast). I honestly can't fault readers who take the narration as objective truth, because IMO there frankly isn't much to gainsay it beyond vibes.

(I have some longer thoughts about how novels generally allow for so much more subjectivity than film, the way a script is by design far more subjective than any specific adaptation of it, but this post is already long enough!)

-I don't know how I would receive this story if I hadn't seen the drama first. Perhaps I'd like it more, because I wouldn't be comparing it to anything and all the twists would come as surprises. Perhaps I'd be totally uninterested, because I wouldn't know that cool stuff was coming; Volume 1 was a slog for me, and I mostly got Volume 2 because I knew it had Yi City and the Cultivation Conference drama. We will never know! But, as someone who has seen the drama and therefore knows where WWX has been... his lack of reaction and reflection on anything related to his past is deeply off-putting. He seems to simply not care at all about the harm he has caused the people he supposedly loves.

There's a bit during Empathy with NMJ where he sees his past self try to start shit with JZX with no provocation; JZX asks how JYL is doing, and WWX flies off the handle telling him to fuck off. Though readers haven't yet learned the exact circumstances of their deaths, we know that WWX is held responsible for JYL and JZX's deaths. We know that Jin Ling, whom WWX has been bonding with, is an orphan for reasons that have something to do with WWX. So you would expect, upon being confronted with his past self needlessly antagonizing JZX (whom he inadvertently killed), and actively discouraging his and JYL's union (which he knows now was a happy one), you'd expect SOME sort of reaction. Regret at having been so hostile towards JZX? Realization that this sort of behavior maybe contributed to everyone believing the worst of him? Acknowledgement that JZX had turned over a new leaf at that point? Defensive insistence that well, okay, maybe he was harsh then, but that peacock was soooo annoying before? Rueful amusement at similarities between JZX and JL? LITERALLY ANYTHING WOULD BE FINE.

Instead, all we get is him going "haha, wow, past me was sooooo cringe!" at the very beginning of the scene. He never responds to the altercation itself beyond going "oh yeah, I remember this." Nothing to say here, but PLENTY to say about how LWJ looks and much speculation about LXC encouraging LWJ to talk to him.

"Oh, well, WWX doesn't dwell on the past!" people said when I first complained way back when I was reading the first volume. And that's true, he doesn't! He forgets and suppresses as a defense mechanism! It's a major character trait! But this... doesn't read to me as a complicated man actively refusing to engage. This reads to me, simply, as a man who doesn't care. And yes, I know that the structure of the novel means we can't reveal too about the past much too soon, but there are ways to show a character is impacted without saying what or why. In the wildly nonlinear novel Catch-22, we don't know exactly why Yossarian refuses to fly, but we know he's fucked up about something even before we get the flashback with Snowden's death. In the middle-grade verse novella Love That Dog, Jack is angry and uncomfortable when asked to write about a pet; the target audience of 10-year-olds can already infer that something bad happened to his pet, even though it'll be quite some time before Jack is finally willing to write about his dog being hit by a car.

I don't get that from WWX at all, and whether this is a shortcoming in the writing itself, a failure of translation, or if WWX is just an asshole incapable of reflection, I'm not here for it, and it's too much for me to want to push through since he's the viewpoint character we're with for the long haul.

[msmorningstaarr]

Holy and Heathen - 7 (Dreaming of you.)

Pairing: young!Oberyn MartellxF!Original Hightower Character

Word count: 5.7k

Chapter Warnings: cheating;

ao3 | masterlist

SUMMARY: Lady Melara Hightower is the youngest daughter of Lord Leyton Hightower and has a distinct, serious and pious personality. She is sent to serve the Faith as a Septa, but her destiny suddenly changes once she becomes betrothed to the heir of Dorne, Prince Oberyn Martell. She sees herself living in a land far from hers with distinct habits, dealing with many divergences and a husband far more wild than she could ever expect. Would she be capable of lighting the way of her mind and heart?

(Except for Melara Hightower, all characters do not belong to me but to George RR Martin, author of the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' book series.)

Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody

Oberyn

His mind still recollected the moment that happened a few hours ago. He remembered the fear in her eyes, swallowing her tears while he shook her body, forcefully holding her arms and pushing her after. It was an unacceptable behaviour. Oberyn was raised amongst women, had two daughters and a sister whom he loved deeply, he never saw himself being aggressive towards any of them. None of them deserved violence, Melara clearly did not deserve it either.

He broke his promise to never hurt Melara and treated the girl badly, a mistake he is fully aware he committed. However, rage took place on his heart the moment she loathed Obara and Nymeria, for Oberyn could also never allow this treatment with his daughters coming from his lady wife. At the same time, he could only feel trapped and resentful towards her. It was not what he wished. He never wanted to be the heir, to be a ruler, to wed someone. At least not someone like Melara. Ever since his wedding he had been feeling sad, angry, disappointed. Melara created a whole world around herself and did not make space for him, he had no idea of what kind of person she truly was, Melara displayed herself like a doll on a wall: shallow, empty; the slight difference was that her eyes were deep in feelings.

He still missed Elia. It was not an excruciating pain like the day she married Rhaegar, but that feeling was still there, lingering like a shadow in the recesses of his heart. Her laughter echoed in his memories, and the warmth of her touch lingered in the chambers of his mind. She had been his confidante, his partner in both joy and sorrow. Her departure to King's Landing had left Oberyn with a wound that time seemed unable to fully heal.

As he contemplated the between the lines of his marriage to Melara, he could not help again but to draw comparisons between the two women. Elia had been understanding, supportive, and above all, she had shared his vision for Dorne. Melara, on the other hand, seemed to exist in her own world, detached from the responsibilities that came with being the lady of a great house.

The weight of his duty pressed heavily on Oberyn's shoulders. He knew that as the heir to Dorne, he had obligations to fulfil. The alliance forged through his marriage to Melara was meant to strengthen his own image in Dorne and the Seven Kingdoms, ensuring the stability of his future as a ruler. Yet, every passing day felt like a chain tightening around him, restricting his freedom and suffocating his spirit.

In the quiet moments of the night, Oberyn found himself yearning for the simplicity of his past. He longed for the days when he and Elia would stroll through the palace gardens, discussing dreams and aspirations, lingering her intense gaze over his, fingers slowly intertwining on each other and resisting the urge of kissing each other’s lips. The memory of Elia's gentle guidance contrasted sharply with Melara's aloofness.

As the minutes turned into hours, Oberyn grappled with conflicting emotions. The love for his daughters, the sense of duty to Dorne, and the undeniable truth that Melara was not the partner he had envisioned. The internal turmoil threatened to consume him. In a rare moment of vulnerability, bare from pride, Oberyn decided to see Melara and apologise to his little lady. He had to make things right with her and try to amend things with her, once shame filled his head after exploding with anger on her. 

He knocked on her quarters’ door and no one answered, her handmaidens were nowhere to be seen and so did Melara. With no mystery, he found her on her knees, staring at the flames as she professed prayers inside the Sept where they had married. Oberyn lit a match and walked towards the heated spot, kneeling by her side. On her hand, a seven-faced crystal she held strongly whilst praying, but stopped immediately once noticed her lord husband’s presence.

“H-husband.” She said, quietly. Oberyn noticed the bruise on her arm and his heart ached almost immediately. Her eyes were swollen and pink, with a tearful expression.

Oberyn lit a candle and watched the blue and purple scars on her arm contrast with the yellow and orange light coming from the big column of candles in the worshipping room. He brushed with his fingers the purple mark on her fair skin. “I know that there is nothing in the world that could be ever worthy of your forgiveness, but I owe you an apology, my lady.”

Melara sighed and lowered her head. “There is nothing to apologise, husband. In fact it is I whom ask you for your pardon. For I should never have confronted you, I’ve disgraced myself.”

Oberyn sighed, chuckling at her passiveness and compliance. “I disagree.”

Melara looked at him, narrowing her eyes. “How come?”

“I liked when you screamed. You finally let a spark of life in your eyes shine.” He smirked. Melara shook her head as he sighed and got closer to her, allowing himself to feel the softness of her skin, nose being invaded with her enticing lavender scent. “I feel as if I am the worst man alive. I should never do this to you, Melara.”

His lady princess stood up from kneeling and sat on the bench in front of the altar and Oberyn proceeded to follow her. “Men can act… impulsive when in rage. I do not blame you for your behaviour. You are just a man.” Melara faced the fire on the candles with lost eyes. A spark from a soft tear glimmered her eyes before falling out. Oberyn noticed she wore a yellow dress he gave her and smiled at the sight. How many things this girl must have been through to accept it? The thought of it caused him anxiety, felt exhausting to suppress her own emotions to contain the dissatisfaction of others.

“Nonsense, it was an unacceptable behaviour. A true, honourable man should never be aggressive towards his lady wife. I should cherish you, treat you with respect and nothing less.” Oberyn also faced forward to the fire. “I don’t blame you for not giving me a child yet. Many women find it difficult to conceive children. I should apologise for blaming you too. You should never be affected by my ire.”

“This blame is only mine to ask for your forgiveness as well, husband.” Her eyes lowered, dropping the crystal near her. Melara took a deep breath before speaking and touched his hand gently.

“It is not… mother had a difficult time conceiving children too.” Oberyn intertwined his fingers on her, remembering an intimate act he always did with Elia. “When Elia was born, everyone thought she would not survive, nor mother. Now she resides in King’s Landing, married to the Crown Prince.” The words leaving his mouth certainly tasted quite bittersweet. The thought of Elia indulging herself with Rhaegar by itself was almost heart wrenching to Oberyn. “Our time is yet to come, my lady.”

Melara stayed silent for quite a bit, biting her lower lip as her mind recollected some thoughts and Oberyn watched her features. “My mother died in childbirth. My sister, Denise… she told me that my mother died apologising for having trouble delivering the child. Mother died terribly guilty for giving my father a daughter instead of a son. I do not wish to disappoint you that way, my lord.”

And for the first time, he could know something about his wife that went beyond the surface. Her expression, however, remained serious. No signal of sadness or anger, only numbness. Those serious eyes and melancholic look worthy of a Septa. Yet, hearing that simple phrase indeed added a new layer on that complex woman. Oberyn's expression softened, his fingers tracing the contours of Melara's hand as if trying to convey understanding and empathy. 

“You could possibly never disappoint me.” Oberyn replied, tracing his fingers in the silk of her dress. “Do you miss her?” The prince asked and Melara denied silently.

“I cannot miss someone I do not own a single memory of.” She muttered, plainly. "It is not something I often speak about. My father always said that dwelling on the past doesn't change it. But I do know my mother was his favourite of his four wives. Lady Rhea said that Father mourned her death for years. I remember he could barely look me in the eyes as I grew older.” As she spoke, Oberyn felt a sense of shared pain. Both of them, it seemed, carried the heavy burdens of loss and expectation. The flames in the sept flickered, casting dancing shadows on the walls, reflecting the dance of emotions playing out between them. “I am sorry I could not give you a child yet, I-I pray to the Mother every day she presents us with a babe…”

Oberyn cut her words, gently lifting Melara's chin, guiding her eyes to meet his. "We are both burdened by ghosts, my lady. But we have a choice; we can let them haunt us, or we can find a way to live despite them."

Melara nodded and took his fingers off her face. “I still hope you understand my concerns related to your bastards. I will not apologise for not wanting them around.”

Oberyn couldn't care less for the fact that Obara and Nymeria were bastards, he always taught them to carry this title with pride, but listening to Melara calling his girls like this was not something he could easily accept. He could feel her distaste and disdain towards them from miles away. “The last time I was travelling in Oldtown, I decided to visit a brothel I have been before years ago, encountering the same fine whore I had fucked before. Then, peeking through the curtains a small little thing looked at me, scared. I knew she was mine from the very beginning, I saw myself in her.” Oberyn raised his eyebrow, crossing one of his legs over the other. “The whore lied to my face, alleging she was not mine.” Oberyn sighed heavily and brushed his own jawline. “When I returned to claim her, I had the confirmation when I could see the mark she possesses, a birthmark behind the ear, just like mine.” he continued, showing his own birthmark. “The whore tried to deny and forbid her to leave with me, but Obara chose me once I threw the spear on her feet. Nymeria was a little thing when I left Volantis, clinging on my arms and following me wherever I went like a shadow. She chose me too, since the time she spent on her mother’s belly.” Melara lowered her head, listening to his monologue. “I choose Obara and Nymeria and they will stay here. I do not mean to fight with you once more, but they are a non-negotiable part of my life, you will understand this kind of love when you bear our children. Therefore, the girls will remain at the Water Gardens and will be raised amongst our future sons. And I will not give up on this matter.”

Melara's eyes flashed with a mixture of defeat and resentment. "I... appreciate your willingness to remain stubborn in response to my concerns. It is admirable to defend your children, even if they’re bastards," she admitted, making Oberyn’s skin burn with disguised annoyance. "Still, I do not wish to come between you and your daughters, Oberyn. My thoughts are just that the world can be harsh, and I want to ensure our future children do not face unnecessary challenges."

Oberyn nodded, swallowing his hard feelings and understanding the depth of her worries. The complexities of their relationship seemed to weave tighter, like the threads of a tapestry that told the story of their shared struggles.

"I do understand your worries, Melara. But Obara and Nymeria are as much a part of me as any child we will have together. They are my own kin and I will not cast them aside," Oberyn affirmed, his gaze unwavering.

Melara, although still reserved, seemed to respect his sincerity even disliking it. The weight of their conversation lingered in the air, a delicate balance between compromise and standing firm on principles. The sept, once a place of solitude and prayer, now bore witness to a silent understanding between husband and wife.

“You cannot fathom the layers of humiliation you are putting me through by allowing it.” Melara declared. “What kind of woman… what kind of lady would accept a child conceived out of wedlock in her own home?”

“The last thing I want to do is humiliate you, Melara.” Oberyn insisted, pouting his lips.

“And yet, here you are… humiliating me.” A sorrowful expression rose on her face. Her delicate traces carried a screaming desire to cry, but the young princess took a breath and looked at Oberyn, who remained quiet all along. “I do not mean to scream or fight you, none of this is of my liking. I will not even defy you, for you are my husband and I always chose to submit myself to you. Therefore, I shall not complain about your bastards anymore.”

Oberyn got taken aback and one more time, Melara had stolen his words. Silently, he stood up, extending his hand to his wife. Melara gently pushed her dress up as she stood on her feet. As they left the sept hand in hand, the moon shines below the horizon, casting a cold glow over the golden towers of Sunspear. The shadows of war between the couple seemed to retreat, giving way to the promise of a cold war instead. Oberyn knew that the road ahead would not be without challenges. The ghosts of their pasts still lingered, but in that moment, a tentative truce had been established. The flames of the candles in the sept had witnessed the forging of an armed peace agreement for them. As they walked outside the Sept, Melara carried a torch and lighted the way on the dark corridors in the late hours of the night. Oberyn accompanied Melara to her bed chambers on a taciturn walk, both heads lowered. Her arms were involved on his and the tip of her fingers circled gently on the silk of his attire. Her hair was tied up on braids and covered on a white veil. Once they arrived at her door, both remained stopped in front of it, not letting go of his arms. Melara bit her lips, anxiously fiddling her free fingers on the other hand. Oberyn could see more properly the dress she wore, with Seven-pointed stars embroidered and suns on the sleeves. 

“You look very pretty, my lady.” Oberyn stated, caressing her arms. Her gaze seemed to sparkle to his praise and he smiled gently. 

“Thank you, my lord.” She replied, clumsily. His heart warmed looking at her and stroked a lock of her bangs falling on her face.

“I only speak the truth,” Oberyn kissed her fingers as she took her arms from his. “You should loosen your hair more often.”

“It is quite warm in Dorne and I must admit I am not used to it yet.” Melara caressed her own dress before opening her door. 

“Then I must provide someone to fan you and cold water to refresh your body. I will make sure you are well accommodated.” Oberyn promised and Melara nodded. Both remained silent for a while, Melara seemed pensative. 

“It occurred to me we did not have our weekly… encounter.” Was Melara inviting her husband to her bed? Shyly, Melara stared the floor. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Oberyn asked, with a mischievous smile. Melara turned her cheeks red, her face heated instantly. 

“I just thought that… you wanted it, my lord. I denied it to you earlier.” Returning to her regular self, Melara just wanted to accomplish her duty. Did she ever feel true pleasure in something? Has Melara ever indulged herself before him?

Oberyn kissed her forehead, savouring the warmth of the moment. "I can wait for another moment, my lady. Now, rest. Tomorrow is a new day, and we have much to live for. I will be here whenever you're ready, and until then, I will always let you decide whether you want to bed with me or not."

Melara nodded, a sense of relief washing over her. As she entered her chambers, Oberyn lingered for a moment in the corridor, watching the door close behind her. The torchlight vibrated, casting shadows on the walls, a reflection of the hardship within their intimacy. With a determined sigh, Oberyn turned away and headed to his own bed chambers.

Oberyn woke up the next morning with flashes of sunlight invading through his window and his heart raced with the dream he had. He looked at the empty side of his bed and sighed, anxious and feeling some wetness inside his trousers, coming from his cock. Then, he remembered everything he dreamed of.

Elia was dressed in Targaryen colours, a black and crimson dress that she quickly got rid of once she saw her brother in their chambers. She confessed her love for him whilst kissing his lips sloppily, fingers digging into his skin as Oberyn pulled her hair, kissing her small teats eagerly. The dream was vivid, he could feel the wetness between her undergarments as she grinded it against his length until the scenes of his dream changed to him licking her cunt as she screamed his name, reaching her peak on his mouth and finally his cock could feel inside her walls as he claimed her. Elia begged Oberyn to give her a child, to snatch her away from Rhaegar and make her his princess, away from everything and the hypocrisy of that land. In the end, he came inside her, grunting her name heavily. 

Instead, he came in his night clothing just with the thought of his sweet Elia. Oberyn scratched his eyes, watching his maids fetching him clothes and preparing him a bath to start his day. His hair left a few drops of water falling over the fabric as he walked towards his mother’s solar. Princess Ysilla was sitting alone at a table covered with breads, black ale, bacon, berries, grapes and many other fruits, and obviously dornish wine. Her gaze focused on cutting the bread in half to pass a jelly to break her fast. The room smelled of incense, and the sound of distant birds added a soothing undertone to the atmosphere.

"Good morning, Mother," Oberyn greeted, his voice still carrying the remnants of the dream that lingered in his mind. Ysilla looked up, her sharp eyes assessing her son's demeanour.

"Oberyn, my son. You seem troubled this morning. Is something amiss?" she inquired, placing her hands on the edge of the table with a bright smile.

Oberyn hesitated for a moment, debating whether to share a brief lie of his dream with his mother. Instead, he chose a more reserved approach. "Just a restless night, Mother. Dreams that leave a lingering unease." He said, cutting some bread to himself.

Ysilla studied him for a moment before nodding understandingly. "Dreams can be powerful, my son. They sometimes reflect the desires and conflicts within us. But we must not let them control our waking actions."

He nodded, appreciating the wisdom in his mother's words. "You are right, as always. On the other hand, it seems like you had a wonderful night. Am I allowed to know the reason behind this beam?"

Ysilla unfolded a small letter with the Targaryen sigil marked on the melted wax. She handed him the letter after wiping her mouth from the eating. "Beyond wonderful, my son."

Oberyn shifted his focus to the paper, his mind gradually moving away from the vivid dreams that had pleased his night. As he readed, his heart felt close to stopping beating. 

Dear Mother,

How has life been lately? The heat of King’s Landing is not even close to the warmth of Sunspear and I miss it. I write to reassure you that my lord husband treats me with the greatest of kindness and we have been growing more and more fond of each other every day.

However, the reason I write you this letter is to announce that I am with child. The Maester says it appears I am four moons pregnant, which is perfectly normal since the babe was conceived on our wedding night. I hope this news brings you happiness as it brings me and the Royal Family. Please, answer me as soon as possible, for I miss you, Melara and Oberyn terribly. 

Your dear daughter,

Princess Elia Martell of Dragonstone

Elia was with child. The dream of her, though lingering, became a distant whisper in the corridors of his mind as he immersed himself in those news that deeply affected him. Why did she not tell him first? Frustration filled his head and his hands started to sweat. Tears yearning to fall from his eyes. The inevitable feeling of wanting Elia and fathering her children was latent inside of him. Then, he had to be content with Melara. 

Anger hit him for not letting go of this feeling. “It was supposed to amuse you, Oberyn.” Ysilla snarkily replied.

“It did amuse me.” Oberyn replied, harshly dropping the letter over the table. 

“Seems like it did not,” Ysilla replied, pouting her lips. “She wrote you and Melara a letter as well.” Oberyn raised his eyes to see Ysilla handing him a piece of paper with the same wax corrupted.

“Did you read her letter to me?” Oberyn asked, slightly concerned.

“I read all the letters you have been switching to each other.” Ysilla stopped eating again and drank a sip of her wine. “You and her must stop this unreasonable obsession with each other. Dreaming of you killing Prince Rhaegar to do despicable things with her… are you two out of your mind? If a letter with such content falls on the wrong hand you two are doomed. You two are married and most of all, you two are siblings. This is borderline disgusting.” Ysilla scoffed to recite the content of the letters in whispers. “You must stop feeding this dangerous fantasy. It's a fire that could consume everything you've built."

Oberyn's jaw tensed, his frustration turning into a simmering anger. "I lov-...”

“Don’t you dare continue to say what you mean to say.” Ysilla cut his words shortly and Oberyn recomposed himself. Silence hung in the air, tense and heavy. Oberyn's chest rose and fell with the intensity of his emotions. Ysilla, unyielding, stared at her son with a mixture of concern and disappointment.

"Think about what is truly important, Oberyn," Ysilla finally said, her voice still low but no less resolute. "The future of Dorne, the family you have, the wife you've married. These are the things that should guide your actions."

“You will put an end to this dangerous obsession with Elia. It's a path that leads nowhere good," Ysilla continued, her gaze steady.

Oberyn nodded, though the turmoil within him remained. “And I expect you to be on your best behaviour tonight. We shall celebrate this good news with a banquet at court. Is that understood?”

Oberyn, seething with conflicted emotions, looked away and remained with a hardened expression. “Do you understand me, Oberyn?” Ysilla asked again slowly, more threatening this time and Oberyn just nodded, annoyed.

“I lost my hunger. If you excuse me, mother.” And with that, the dornish prince left the solar without uttering another word. The weight of duty and desire battled within him, threatening to tear him apart. The dream of Elia, the news of her pregnancy, and the admonitions of his mother created a tumultuous storm in his mind, and he was left to navigate the treacherous waters alone. He feared for his sister alone in King’s Landing without him to protect her from anyone who could try to harm his beloved Elia. 

Sitting on a bench in his private gardens, Oberyn traced his fingers as he unfolded the letter Elia wrote him and tried to smell any resquice of her smell, a jasmine essence. He couldn't help but close his eyes and imagine the scent of jasmine that lingered in the air when she was near. The memories of her essence intertwined with the words on the page, creating a bittersweet spiral of longing.

My beloved brother,

I have been dreaming of you quite too much lately, almost every night in truth. It leaves me under the impression that you are thinking of me and calling me in my sleep. Last night, I dreamed you arrived in King’s Landing, covered in armour to kill Rhaegar and snatch me away on a ship to somewhere far, far away from the Seven Kingdoms. 

In my dreams, I am always allowed to kiss you and we can always claim ourselves as lovers. It is something to entice our minds, isn’t it? 

By this point, mother already told you I am expecting. Rhaegar and I have been over the moon with such exciting news. I believe it is safe to say I love him as much as I love you. Do you believe it is possible to love more than one person in the same way, at the same time? Please, tell me you feel the same way with Melara.

I miss you too much, brother. Please, write to me as soon as possible.

Yours,

Princess Elia Martell of Dragonstone

His mind painted a perfect depiction of her dream as he noticed how capricious her handwriting is, something he always knew she was far better than him. If Elia could be able to love more than one man, could he love Melara too? At times, he wished to live in solitude, respecting the fact he would never marry his sister for obvious reasons, but the profound emotions within him refused to yield to simplicity. As Oberyn left his secluded gardens, the fragrance of blossoms surrounded him coming from the flowers in that spot, and the echoes of Elia's dreams lingered like a haunting melody. 

Melara, his wife, deserved his affection and commitment. He chose the life of lust, a path of fun detached from love if he could not love the only one he wanted to love. Yet, the unspoken desires and the remnants of dreams shared with Elia tugged at his heart, a constant reminder of the forbidden allure. The letter rested in his hands, a tangible connection to a sister who seemed both distant and achingly near. His thoughts circled back to Melara, who had been mistreated by him enoughly. He walked back to his bed chambers, placing the letter on a small box he would keep all the letters she sent him. With a piece of paper over his desk, he started writing.

Loving Sister,

I wish words could measure or truly describe how much I have been missing you. I must correct you and propose the theory that we are both calling each other on our respective sleeps, for I dream with you every night. Last night, I dreamed that you begged to give you a child as I claimed you mine with lust and love. In my dreams, I can also kiss you in public and profess my love for you too. It is a desire of a lifetime, in fact.

Melara had not presented me with a child yet and it resulted in a heated argument last night, something I regret deeply. Unfortunately, I can’t bring myself to love her as I love you, however, the idea of loving both of you is something I surprisingly never considered before, for my heart only had found space for you. Nonetheless, I shall give it a thought.

I love you deeply, Elia.

Yours,

Prince Oberyn of House Nymeros Martell

As he folded the letter and melted the wax, Oberyn sealed the paper and delivered it to a servant so it could be sent to Elia. The question she posed about love echoed in his mind, stirring contemplation. Could he love Melara with the same depth as Elia, or was the bond they shared destined to be different, defined by duty rather than passion?

With his mind travelling far from reality, he went to the stables and grabbed his horse, willing to ride onto the city and distract his mind for a while. Oberyn had no desire in participating in any council or solving any problem related to the administration of his household that day. He just wanted to ride. With a scarf covering his face to protect from the sun, the dornish prince felt his skin burn under the fabrics as his horse made his way to Planky Town. He knew it was a bad idea to ride when the sun reached its highest heat, but Oberyn could not care less. The hot breath embraced him with fragments of sand coming from the dunes itching his eyes. Oberyn stopped at a tavern, where he immediately was served with the best wine and food from the servants who immediately recognised him.

“Sir,” A girl approached him with a jar of wine. “May I serve you more wine?” Oberyn looked at her, intrigued. Her accent was not dornish. If he had a good hearing, it sounded a bit northerner.

“Please, pour me wine.” Oberyn replied, noticing the volume on her cleavage when she leaned to pour the wine to him. Still captivated by the girl, he asked: “What a northerner girl does here, serving in a dornish tavern?”

The girl smiled gallantly and placed a plate in front of him. “A northerner girl serves wine, ale and food for men like you, for women as well.” She playfully replied and Oberyn smirked.

The prince bit his bottom lip and brushed it with the tip of his fingers, analysing her slim figures. For a servant, the girl was in better form than any commoner he ever saw. “Where do you come from, girl?”

“Somewhere near the Trident, my lord.” The girl replied, adjusting her dress with her free hand. The girl stared at him intensely and Oberyn returned the favour, making himself comfortable as he drank his wine.

“Riverlands, then,” He pointed out and the girl nodded. “Sit, girl.” Oberyn commanded and the girl complied, sitting in front of him. His hand gently grabbed her callused ones.

“Does the girl have a name?” Oberyn asked, smirking.

The girl smirked back. “A girl can tell her name in other opportunities.”

The prince saw himself more and more interested in that mysterious commoner who was bewitching him. Her black hair hung loosely around her shoulders as she maintained a confident gaze. Oberyn couldn't deny the allure of her mystery, having an enticing aura around her.

His fingers traced patterns on the back of her hand as he sipped his wine, a playful glint in his eyes. "A girl enjoys keeping secrets, then. I appreciate the intrigue."

The girl's lips curled into a coy smile. "A girl finds intrigue to be a delightful companion."

Oberyn leaned back, his scarf momentarily slipping down as he studied her features. "Tell me, mysterious girl, what brings you to Dorne? The southern sun is a far cry from the warm sun and winds of the Riverlands."

Her gaze softened for a moment. "It is a long story, my lord."

“Do make sure we have enough wine so I can hear you well,” He raised his cup and she giggled.

The servant girl lowered her head with a faint smile. “I was somewhere and then I just did not want to be there anymore. I suppose I have not found my home yet.” She faced him, rubbing her legs under the table on his. Oberyn refilled their cups, the wine flowing freely, mirroring the loosening of inhibitions. "To new beginnings and hidden secrets," he proposed, raising his cup.

Oberyn had been without any physical contact with other people besides Melara since his marriage and so far, it was the most mechanical lovemaking he ever had. Melara never allowed him to take off her clothing and never moved too much, which made things difficult for him to enjoy the moment fully. He would never force her to do things on his way, although he yearned to see a naked woman and taste her properly. He missed having things on his way. And there was the stranger, temptress woman, offering him her body to indulge himself in. His other hand rested on her thigh, slowly passing his hand by. The girl’s eyes darkened and bit her lip, sighing heavily.

The girl clinked her cup against his, her eyes reflecting a mixture of excitement and a longing for something intense. In the midst of Planky Town's warmth and the secrets exchanged, Oberyn found himself drawn to a story yet untold, captivated by the mystery that unfolded before him.

“You follow me now, girl” He softly commanded, delicately squeezing the apex of her thighs and letting her escape a low moan.

“Yes, my lord.” The girl stood up and took him by the hand, escorting him to one of the rooms upstairs the tavern. Oberyn’s eyes darkened to be alone with a woman who wanted him, who wanted to please him in full. The prince approached her with a devilish grin on his face, cupping her cheeks to bring her lips close. Oberyn's hands traced the curves of the woman's body, revelling in the warmth and softness that had been absent from his marriage. The stranger responded with a fervour that matched his own, his fingers deftly working to undo the simple laces who held her simple garments holding up. The room echoed with the rustling of fabric and the quiet sounds of their shared passion.

In that intimate space, Oberyn allowed himself to be fully present, free from the constraints of duty and the weight of responsibility. It was a stolen moment, a secret liaison that fueled the fire within him. The woman, whose name he had not bothered to learn, became a vessel for his suppressed desires, a willing participant in this forbidden dance.

[tadpolesonalgae]

ive seen the argument that rhys killed the winter court children thrown around so much but thank you for saying that bc i was starting to think i read it wrong. kallias only agrees to help the night court when it's made clear that rhys didnt kill the children and that amarantha had another mind reader. and they even become allies because kallias and viviane are at some celebration at the housw of wind later in the books right? if it had been rhys none of that would happen.

there are a lot of reasons you can not like rhysand he was always meant to be a morally grey character (imo sjm made him too nice actually) but im always confused when people keep using this reason because it might be the only one he was proven innocent

i loved the story dont get me wrong but reader in that is closer to hybern than to rhysand like the whole thing with the ic is that they all did terrible things but with a reason and she's just a bitch for a lack of a better word

i also felt both az and rhys were justified in how they treated her, i mean it was tough to read but she went way too far in how she was talking about elain, calling her all type of misogynistic names just because azriel and her are together so ofc azriel lost it on her (and not even that badly like he meant everything he said and none of those were lies) and then ofc the last straw for rhys was her threatening to dig up the archeron dad, that's a disgusting thing to do and rhys doesnt play about feyre. also if she has had this personality for centuries i can only imagine the list of shit the ic has against her

id love to read more of this story but i think it's pretty clear she's a villain, not even morally grey like the ic. i do love villain stories though so im excited lol

I mean, with the Winter Court situation, I’m pretty sure that’s what happened? 🫣 I don’t have the books on me at the moment so I can’t check but I agree it would be weird if Kalias and Viviane came over for the solstice with the death of a dozen children between them, so I’m inclined to believe Rhys wasn’t the one who committed that particular crime for Amarantha 🫠😭

And with Rhys being morally grey, I feel like it gets a little confusing because we don’t really get to see what he’s like as a character without Feyre? I feel like he probably took a bit of a (positive) turn now that he has his mate if that makes sense? Also the fact he isn’t under the pressure of maintaining a mask so thoroughly has probably contributed to who he’s become? I’d really like to get a scene though where the morally grey part bleeds through, perhaps if someone’s threatened in a future book? 👀

Either way, he’s a fictional character (to many’s upset 😔) so I suppose his personal ethics aren’t a particular point of contention when held against some problems occurring in our world 😕

‘i loved the story dont get me wrong but reader in that is closer to hybern than to rhysand’

You do not have to worry about a thing, she is fully intended to be easily and actively dislikable though I don’t think it’s an issue if some people take her side since this is a work of fiction 🧡💛

However, I am really interested in seeing what sides people take when it comes to what she does and her motivations, as well as what she holds dear and who she’s loyal to when it comes down to it! I’ll be curious if anyone will feel her actions might be more easily justifiable or at the very least understandable once more of her past is dug up? Whether people feel a bad deed is always a bad deed irrespective of circumstance, or whether the context and environment surrounding an action should be taken into consideration before passing judgement :)

‘calling her all type of misogynistic names just because azriel and her are together so ofc azriel lost it on her’

To be perfectly honest with you, I really enjoyed getting to write the parts because of how inappropriate they were given the situation 🤦😭 Her trying to convince Az to be with her and then insulting the person he claims to be in love with 🫣

‘and then ofc the last straw for rhys was her threatening to dig up the archeron dad, that's a disgusting thing to do and rhys doesnt play about feyre.’

I mean, not only is she a prominent figure in society, but she also has some pretty intense power readily disposable, and she doesn’t really act like she’s responsible enough to handle it (but we’ll inevitably examine those parts, too, because it would be weird if she just came into all that power without any sort of accountability or understanding of death and life, right? 👀)

‘id love to read more of this story but i think it's pretty clear she's a villain, not even morally grey like the ic. i do love villain stories though so im excited lol’

Honestly I’m still figuring out what’s going to happen in the end? She’s going to get with Az, but I’m indecisive on whether it’ll be a clean ending or not? I feel like if it is going to be like that, there’s a line that she won’t be able to cross, whereas it might be quite interesting to see how people try to reconcile her actions while still keeping in line with their own morals?

Also witnessing through her actions what sort of person she’s become and what situations have led up to that (and whether there are other people partially responsible for the things that have happened)

Either way, I think it’ll be exciting to figure these things out! There’s still so much of the story yet to be decided on, so it’s going to take some time for a next part to come together! And thank you so much for writing in!! I absolutely adore getting to read thoughts like this, it makes me so happy to know you’re invested to this level 🧡💛

[castyourline]

“Every age has its own outlook. It is specially good at seeing certain truths and specially liable to make certain mistakes. We all, therefore, need the books that will correct the characteristic mistakes of our own period. And that means the old books. All contemporary writers share to some extent the contemporary outlook even those, like my elf, who seem most opposed to it.

Nothing strikes me more when I read the controversies of past ages than the fact that both sides were usually assuming without question a good deal which we should now absolutely deny. They thought that they were as completely opposed as two sides could be, but in fact they were all the time secretly united-united with each other and against earlier and later ages— by a great mass of common assumptions. We may be sure that the characteristic blindness of the twentieth century—the blindness about which posterity will ask, "But how could they have thought that?"-lies where we have never suspected it, and concerns something about which there is untroubled agreement between Hitler and President Roosevelt or between Mr. H. G. Wells and Karl Barth.

None of us can fully escape this blindness, but we shall certainly increase it, and weaken our guard against it, if we read only modern books. Where they are true they will give us truths which we half knew already. Where they are false they will aggravate the error with which we are already dangerously ill. The only palliative is to keep the clean sea breeze of the centuries blowing through our minds, and this can be done only by reading old books. Not, of course, that there is any magic about the past. People were no cleverer then than they are now; they made as many mistakes as we. But not the same mistakes. They will not flatter us in the errors we are already committing; and their own errors, being now open and palpable, will not endanger us.

Two heads are better than one, not because either is infallible, but because they are unlikely to go wrong in the same direction.”

- CS Lewis, “On Reading Old Books”.

[kimberlyannharts]

LAST TIME ON RANGER ACADEMY: Sage is fully committing to the high school life, even if there are some obstacles like bullies, hard classes, her friend's tragic backstory, and the discovery of the Chamber of Secrets.

But there's no time to dwell on that, because it's time for the Morphin Trial, where kids are dumped in a hostile landscape to be color-coded by some weird old alien cult. Sounds legit!

It's Ranger Academy #4!

Before we begin let's take another look at that Katie cameo. Sure she doesn't do anything but drive the bus and I still have no fucking idea how these cameos work when they're appearing in-person vs those inter dimensional tubes but it's at least nice to see her

ANYWAY. Time to drop some children off to die

= So some lore stuff established already is the Bandorian Monks reside on the planet "Chromia" specifically in the "Zeo Chamber" in "Prism Peak." It only opens for a limited amount of time once a year. From what I can remember none of this, except the Zeo Chamber I suppose, was in Eltarian War's established lore, but I guess that can be chalked up to Ranger Academy being its own thing. (And for what it's worth, the Zeo Crystal itself is not in the chamber.)

= yes yes guys we get it you want that video game/RPG adaptation

= This is so valid of Theo but unfortunately for him I know what happens to PR characters with his kind of jokey, charismatic personality

= So are they going to be the book's main romance or not. I'm calling upon protection spells against sisterzoning

= NO NONON ONONONONON NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO DON'T DO THIS

= So.....okay. Here it is. Here's the line

So obviously there are colors missing from the Academy and at the very least Theo's dialogue is implying that's on purpose. Which makes me hopeful for my old "Camp Half-Blood" theory that this book will end with more color campuses being added. And obviously, Theo's source isn't telling the whole story or getting facts wrong.

But. Look.

Even if Lindy's dialogue is only saying that Green and Orange Rangers don't exist in the Academy rather than the universe as a whole, the entire concept of certain colors being forbidden or unknown is ridiculous when this is a school that fully encompasses itself in Ranger history. Sage mentioned in a previous issue learning about Jen and why their library is named after her, so their adventures must be part of the curriculum. Even if it isn't, their teachers are Ranger alumni. ONES THAT HAD GREEN RANGERS ON THEIR TEAMS. Their bus driver was KATIE! She can't talk about Trip, her best friend? Crueger never brings up how Green is the third-highest ranking ranger at SPD? I think this wouldn't even annoy me so much if they weren't equating Oranger Rangers (of which there have only been three official ones in the franchise, with others being so-so canon) to Green Rangers (of which there's only been. four seasons, I believe? where there was no Green at all). I know Power Rangers wants Green to be special but it just simply doesn't work because by definition, it isn't.

I think this would only work for me if a) we establish that the present of Ranger Academy is set either extremely far in the past or extremely far in the future, where Rangers either barely exist yet OR it's been so long that the canon we know has been shrouded in legend or b) we didn't have the alumni ranger cameos and we establish this school is completely cut off from the established canon we know. And the last one doesn't work because they clearly want the cameos to be one of the main gimmicks of the series. So idk. It's probably Ranger Academy's biggest headache for me

And just in general I don't know how "forbidden colors" work when the students' color is just chosen based on what the Monks see inside them. It should be unique to them, not based on a criteria that can pick and choose or throw out different options.

ANYWAY. The trio finds Kartyr and Maev and, unsurprisingly, these children are about to die

= what's with Green Rangers having to rescue their rivals that suffer broken ankles. Oops, spoilers

= Sage has only been part of this school for a few months and she's already indoctrinated into their religion

= Kartyr is such a hater for no reason. You should be connecting with your green-haired brethren

= Also I just realized that Kartyr is most likely a Xybrian yet he doesn't follow the naming motif that Trip and the Supersonic Rangers did. I won't hold it against the author as the Supersonic Ranger origin story is pretty obscure but still, it's funny to me.

Though wait if he's a Xybrian shouldn't he know about Trip and how he's a Green R [I am yanked offstage via a giant hook]

= Okay guys I get we're using MMPR theming but are really trying to say Pink Rangers are good pilots? Because what, Kim had flying zords? That's getting a little ridiculous. What's next, Pink Rangers are all amazing archers?

= Maev becoming Yellow was a little surprising since Mathis is already a major character who's yellow, but at the same time I'm really not sure.....what the guidelines are to what color each person becomes. It feels kind of arbitrary at this point tbh. Though maybe it's just because I don't really know Maev as a character yet compared to Theo, who fits the Black Ranger archetype like a glove

and speaking of which

= Lindy not being able to morph genuinely pissed me off like. Again. What are the guidelines here. What about Lindy isn't ranger-worthy. Can I just call the Bandorian Monks racist for denying a Black girl the chance to morph because I think I'll just do that

= SHAME SHAME SHAME SHE HAS THE MARK OF THE DEVIL (her novelty lightning bolt coin turned green, a color that has never existed before this)

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

I think of my alignment somewhere along the lines of... lawful chaotic.

What is that, you ask?

Well, none other than causing the absolute maximum amount of chaos, so long as it's within the law to commit!

I work retail. If a customer pisses me off or is rude, I shove all their items into one bag regardless of how many there are, and tell them we're short on bags, so they can't have another.

I joined a pet holiday card exchange this year. Everyone sends cute cards with pictures of their pets and themselves snuggling. Me? I photoshopped my cat shooting lasers from his eyes as he screams and claws his way out of the water, and sets a city on fire.

April Fools, I am known for causing the most insufferable chaos. I sent my friend my personal "podcast" talking about Star Wars, but when you read the transcript, the first letter of every sentence spells out, "And his name is John Cena."

I once numbered an entire pack of sticky notes, and hid them in random places. Some were obvious. Some were placed on page 69 of a book about sex that hasn't been touched since 1990 except for this occasion. It's been almost 6 years. My family lost the list of which were found ages ago, and gave up looking. They'll never find them all, and whatever random thrift store shopper inevitably gets the book when it's donated someday, they will open to page 69 and find sticky note #69, with no idea the purpose it serves.

Once, I replaced every image on my parents' computer with Nicholas Cage. Articles? Ads? Pop ups? All Nicholas Cage making weird faces. Thousands of them.

My mom put up a cute Christmas village this year. At that time, I'd gotten my 3D printer working again. I proceeded to print out a dragon wearing a Santa hat hoarding present boxes, and I hid him in the village. When my mom failed to notice, I printed 6 Christmas Kobolds all wearing Santa hats, and placed them attacking the village. To this day, she has yet to notice (it's been well over a month and a half).

My soul is forged to cause problems in people's lives that either mildly inconvenience them in a harmless way, or do something so unexpected and obscure that nobody will ever fully understand its chaotic scope except for me, and I will go to the grave with my knowledge.

[variousqueerthings]

how long has it been since I’ve aroaced hawkeye? too long

random hc story time then x amount of time after returning home and putting together a life that he’s doing better in and he thinks about how he hasn’t been in a relationship (sexual and/or romantic) in a long time -- 

hasn’t even thought about it in a long time, too focused on getting through the day and learning to feel like a person again and dealing with his misplaced guilt and he sits with it for awhile, because there’s life stretching out ahead of him in which he’s possibly alone

and he doesn’t want to be alone, no, but he’s not sure that this “alone”ness is a lack of romance and certainly not of sex -- he’d tried filling it with sex back in the war, and it had felt just as empty in the long run. he’s lonely, but he’s missing something else. a shared narrative, a sense of belonging, proof that he didn’t just lose his mind for three years

quite possibly none of this is obvious to him at all, and it’s back to the trope of daniel getting in touch with some people who bring him some friends over from the war with whom he can simply talk without feeling like he exists out of step. it definitely all happened, he’s not crazy (well, not for that anyway) and neither are they 

with the amount of work he does related to surgery seriously diminished, and for awhile now puttering around aimlessly drifting with his mind churning away -- daniel swears he sees smoke coming out of those ears, and the amount of hobbies that hawkeye picks up and puts down again rival only before he had fully committed to medicine and would stay up day after day learning for pleasure, and then for exams (he’d always been a little worried hearing from him in Boston, he’d never been a very anchored boy, and who down there could keep him steady?)

(this time though he doesn’t worry, once he meets the people that hawkeye talks to, who helped him in some way or other get through it as intact as it gets, and who he clearly helped in turn)

the talking leads to noting, leads to writing, and suddenly hawkeye’s got page after page of anecdotes. he even starts looking for more from people he never even met, filling out books’ worth of stories 

with all of this he starts to open up more to people again, both those he knew before the war, some he met during, and others he’s just getting to know, and the thought of companionship mostly disappears again. after all, he’s not wanting for closeness, or of love. 

every once in awhile there’s a feeling -- triggered by a comment made by someone else, or simply seeing friends pairing off (but not all. margaret never marries either, although she has plenty of affairs), or because his dad is getting older and he feels bad that there aren’t any grandkids -- but it’s more a sense of letting down obligation than a real desire, and life’s too short to have to fulfil expectations that he doesn’t even care about

the older he gets the less he feels the need to perform, the easier it is to just be what he is, despite a lack of words. and he never ends up alone, and he doesn’t run out of stories