#but none of the books fully commit to either

[kaiyunsim]

serendipity —

pairing : spider-man!jake x gn!reader

summary : a late night studying session with shinyu results in a weird stalker following you home… but wait, he’s webbed to the wall..? by… SPIDER-MAN? what’s even weirder is that you find yourself running yourself running into the hero more often and begin to see some similarities with… jake sim?

warnings : FLUFF, very very oblivious reader, jake is SUCH a loser here (i crave a loser bf guys… he’s just a nerd), jake is popular, shinyu as a friend of the reader

a/n : omg everyone thank @writhyv for getting me back to writing for jake ! ALSO for getting me to write a hot loser jake (i love it very much) GIFT FOR HIM !! thank u pook ilysm.

queueing… : serendipity - laufey, sweet - cigarettes after sex, safety zone - leehi, blue - kai (not yung kai)

— wc : 7.5k — not proof read —

jake sim is the kind of guy who could ruin your entire life without even trying.

he’s the hottest person you’ve ever seen in real life. like, actually hot. perfect hair, perfect smile, broad shoulders under whatever hoodie he always throws on like he didn't just accidentally win the genetic lottery. he’s popular in the way that feels effortless, always surrounded by people who seem to orbit around him like he’s some kind of sun.

the whole school loves him. teachers, athletes, the kids who sit in the back of class and never talk. jake sim could probably trip and faceplant in the middle of the hallway and people would still clap for him.

the only weird part is that he’s also… kind of a loser.

you don’t really know him, just know of him. he’s in a few of your classes, close enough to be a familiar face but not close enough for either of you to actually talk. if anything, he’s just background noise in your life, one of those people who exists on the edge of your universe without ever really crossing into it.

except sometimes, every now and then, you feel like he’s acting a little… strange around you.

not that you think too hard about it. probably nothing.

the first time it happens, you don’t even clock it as anything weird.

it’s in english class, some group discussion where nobody’s actually talking, just pretending to think really hard about the book none of you actually read. you’re flipping through the pages when you feel someone staring.

you glance up, and there he is. jake sim.

he’s sitting diagonally across from you, elbow propped on the desk, eyes locked on you like he’s trying to figure out the meaning of life or something.

you blink at him.

he blinks back.

and then, like he just got caught committing a crime, he whips his head down, pretending to scribble something in his notebook with the intensity of someone writing their final will and testament.

...okay. weird, but whatever.

the second time, it’s in the hallway between classes.

you're digging through your locker, minding your own business, when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

“uh—hi.”

you turn around.

jake sim is standing there, clutching his textbook like it's a lifeline. up close, he's even hotter, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, hair falling into his eyes.

he's also… kind of red in the face?

“hey?” you offer, confused.

he opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, then immediately shuts it again.

“never mind,” he mutters, spinning on his heel and walking away so fast you'd think the hallway was on fire.

...what the hell was that?

it keeps happening.

little moments that should probably add up to something if you actually paid attention, but you don’t, because jake sim is jake sim, and you’re just you.

he stumbles over his words when you ask to borrow a pencil. drops his entire water bottle when you accidentally brush past him in class. one time, you catch him fully tripping over absolutely nothing when you make eye contact with him across the cafeteria.

but for some reason, your brain just files it all away under wow, popular guys are weird sometimes and moves on.

if anyone ever asked you what you think of jake sim, you’d probably just shrug and say he’s nice.

you don't know that he’s been in love with you since sophomore year.

you don't know that every time he tries to talk to you, his brain completely shuts down.

and you definitely don’t know that the same guy who turns into a stammering mess around you spends his nights swinging across the city, cracking jokes and saving people as if confidence is something that comes built into the suit.

the third time you actually talk to him is in chemistry class.

the teacher pairs you up for some experiment, something involving measurements and burning stuff, and jake ends up at your table, tapping his pen against the notebook like he’s trying to act casual.

"can you pass me the beaker?" you ask.

he freezes.

his eyes flick to the beaker, then to you, then back to the beaker like it's a bomb he’s been assigned to defuse.

"...yeah," he says, voice cracking on the single syllable.

you don’t think anything of it, just reach for the beaker when he hands it over. your fingers brush against his, and he drops it.

it clatters against the table, rolling onto the floor with a loud clink.

"oh."

jake looks like he wants to melt through the floor.

"it's fine," you say, bending down to grab it. “at least it didn’t break” you joke to lighten to mood.

he doesn't move, just sits there gripping the edge of the table like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

you offer him a small smile when you straighten up, placing the beaker back on the table.

"chill," you joke. "it's not that serious."

jake visibly short-circuits.

"chill," he echoes, like it's the first time he's ever heard the word in his life.

if someone told you jake sim had a crush on you, you’d probably laugh.

guys like him don’t go for people like you.

guys like him date cheerleaders or instagram models or the kind of girls who know exactly how to flip their hair and laugh in that effortless, pretty way.

not people who half-ass their homework and accidentally fall asleep during history lectures.

definitely not people who would rather have deep conversations on rooftops than go to parties.

but what you don’t know is that those are all the exact reasons jake likes you.

he likes the way you always stick your tongue out a little when you’re concentrating. he likes how you always hum to yourself when you think nobody’s listening. he likes how you talk to everyone the same, never acting like anybody’s above or below you.

he likes you.

and it’s ruining his life.

—

"do you think jake sim is... weird?"

shinyu raises an eyebrow. "weird how?"

you frown, trying to find the right words.

"i don’t know. like... awkward? around me?"

he snorts. "he's awkward around everyone."

"not really."

shinyu pauses, eyes narrowing like he’s finally catching onto something you've been missing this whole time.

"...wait." he leans in. "do you seriously not realize he's into you?"

you blink.

"what?"

"oh my god." he gape at you like you're the dumbest person alive. "he's had a crush on you since, like, forever."

you genuinely laugh at that, because there's no way.

right?

meanwhile, across the cafeteria, jake sim is currently choking on his water because he saw you glance in his direction for half a second.

sunghoon pats his back, looking vaguely concerned.

"bro, you have superpowers, but you can't even talk to your crush?"

jake coughs harder. he’s so, so doomed.

—

you don’t try to stay out late. it just happens.

sometimes it’s because you lose track of time, caught up in the city’s glow. sometimes it’s because you’re walking home after a long study session, brain fried from trying to shove too much information into it at once.

tonight, it’s the latter.

shinyu yawns next to you, stretching his arms over his head as you both step out of the library. “i swear, if i have to look at one more page of notes, i’m throwing my entire textbook into the river.”

“you say that every time,” you point out.

“and one of these days, i’ll actually do it.”

you snort, tugging your hoodie closer around you. it’s late enough that the streets are quieter than usual, the hum of distant traffic the only real sound. most of the shops have already shut down, save for the 24-hour convenience store at the corner.

shinyu pulls out his phone. “should i call a cab?”

“nah,” you shake your head. “i’ll just walk.”

he frowns. “are you sure? it’s kinda late.”

“i always do this. i’ll be fine.”

he hesitates, clearly debating whether or not to argue, but eventually sighs. “alright. text me when you get home, though.”

“yes, mom.”

he rolls his eyes, flicking your forehead before heading off in the opposite direction.

you stuff your hands into your pockets and start walking.

your route home is familiar, same streets, same flickering streetlights, same little shop windows reflecting the glow of the city back at you. you don’t feel unsafe. if anything, you like walking at night. there’s something peaceful about it, something that makes the world feel a little softer around the edges.

but then—

you hear footsteps behind you.

at first, you don’t think much of it. there are always other people out and about. but as you keep walking, the sound stays steady, just far enough behind that you can’t tell if it’s a coincidence or something else.

your stomach twists. ‘who the fuck is walking around the same route as you at 2am..?’ you think to yourself.

you glance over your shoulder.

a man. mid-thirties, maybe. hood pulled up over his head.

the moment your eyes meet, he quickly looks away, pretending to check his phone.

your heart beats a little faster. you’re probably overreacting.

but then you turn the corner, and the footsteps turn with you.

you pick up your pace.

so do they.

your chest tightens. okay. okay. you’re not imagining it.

you scan the street for other people, but it’s mostly empty. the nearest open shop is too far ahead, and the alley you just passed is—

wait.

your stomach drops.

you didn’t even hear him move, but suddenly, he’s not behind you anymore.

he’s right there.

you barely have time to react before he grabs your wrist, grip too tight, breath too close. “hey—”

before you can even think to scream, something flies past you—fast, sharp.

and suddenly, the man is yanked backwards.

one second he’s gripping you, the next he’s pinned to the alley wall, struggling against thick strands of white webbing wrapped tight around his torso.

your breath catches in your throat.

what.

your brain barely has time to process it before—

“hey,” a voice calls.

you turn, heart still pounding.

and standing there, perched casually on the edge of a lamppost, is spider-man.

your mouth goes dry.

he hops down, landing lightly on the pavement, head tilting slightly as he glances at the guy still stuck to the wall. “yeah, i don’t think so,” he says.

the guy grunts, struggling uselessly against the webbing.

spider-man sighs. “not your best move.”

you just stare.

you know who he is, obviously. everyone does. but knowing about spider-man and actually seeing him in front of you are two entirely different things.

he turns to you. “you alright?”

you blink at him, mind still catching up. “uh.”

he tilts his head. “i’ll take that as a yes?”

“y-yeah,” you stammer, clearing your throat. “yeah. i’m fine.”

“good.” he gestures vaguely toward the guy. “i’ll leave him here for the cops. but, uh—maybe don’t walk alone this late?”

you exhale sharply. “yeah. got it. solid advice.”

spider-man lets out a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

for some reason, that tiny, almost shy gesture is what actually makes your brain start working again.

because up until now, he seemed untouchable, fast, sharp, the kind of person who moves like he already knows the next ten steps ahead. but now, standing here, he’s shifting his weight slightly like he’s not sure what to do with his hands.

and for some reason, that makes him feel real.

“do you, uh,” he starts, then hesitates. “want me to walk you home?”

your stomach flips.

“oh,” you say. “you don’t have to—”

“i don’t mind,” he says quickly. “just to make sure you get there safe.”

you bite your lip. you really should say no. he’s probably busy, and you don’t want to take up more of his time.

but also.

spider-man just offered to walk you home.

what kind of idiot would turn that down?

“…okay,” you say finally.

you can hear the smile in his voice. “okay.”

—

when you finally get home, he hangs back by the streetlight, watching as you unlock the door.

“thanks again,” you say, turning back to him.

he nods. “anytime.”

you hesitate.

“…do you do handshakes?”

he lets out a soft laugh. “not usually.”

“oh.” you lower your hand, a little embarrassed.

but before you can pull it back completely, he reaches out and bumps his knuckles against yours.

it’s such a small thing. so stupidly small.

but for some reason, it makes your heart stutter.

you glance up at him, but he’s already moving, gripping the edge of the nearest rooftop, hoisting himself up with an easy strength that makes your stomach flip.

and then, just before he disappears—

“goodnight,” he says.

your breath catches.

and then he’s gone.

you collapse onto your bed the second you get inside, phone buzzing with a text from shinyu.

shinyu: you home yet? you: yeah shinyu: good

you hover over the keyboard for a second, debating.

and then—

you: hey. what do you think of spider-man?

his reply is instant.

shinyu: idk. kinda cool? you: ...yeah.

you stare at the screen. your heart is still racing.

and for some reason, all you can hear is his voice.

stupid voice with that stupid accent you recognize but look over.

—

it’s become a thing now.

you didn’t plan for it, but somehow it has.

spider-man keeps showing up.

at first, it’s just the occasional late-night save, that charming but awkward conversation at the end where you thank him profusely and he gives you a weird little knuckle bump before disappearing into the night.

but then...

you start seeing him more.

you start to notice that he seems to be where you are, just when you need him.

it happens AGAIN one night when you’re walking home after another late study session with shinyu.

you’re tired. drained. your brain feels like mush, and shinyu, though he’s usually the one full of energy, seems to be on the same wavelength.

"i swear," he mutters, "if i see one more page of equations, i’m going to just… yeet this textbook into the nearest river."

you snort, nudging him. "don’t tempt me. i’m kind of considering it myself."

you both chuckle, but it's tired. the kind of tired where you can’t even muster the energy to fake your usual enthusiasm.

the streets are quiet again, just the sound of your footsteps echoing in the night.

and, as usual, that familiar feeling creeps in, like you’re being watched.

you brush it off. it’s probably just a shadow, the way the streetlights flicker and make things seem closer than they are.

but then, in the distance, a small rustle.

you freeze for a second, but quickly continue walking, convincing yourself it’s nothing.

you turn another corner, and then, there he is.

spider-man.

you blink, more than a little surprised.

“oh, hey,” you say, trying to act casual. "what's up?"

he’s leaning against the side of a building, arms crossed, but when you notice the way he’s watching you, you can’t shake the feeling that maybe he’s been here for a while.

he straightens, suddenly looking a bit... embarrassed? "uh, nothing much. just making sure you're alright."

you blink, a little confused. "i’m fine? why wouldn’t i be?"

he gives a small shrug, like it’s no big deal. "you know, just being careful. you’re walking kinda late, and i’m... well, i’m always around."

you raise an eyebrow. "you just 'happen' to be around whenever i'm out late?"

he looks sheepish. "yep."

you stare at him for a second.

“are you stalking me?” you joke, but it comes out a little too serious.

his eyes widen, and he starts shaking his head quickly, scratching at the back of his neck. "no! no, of course not. just... making sure you're safe, y’know?"

you chuckle softly, rolling your eyes. "right. sure."

he seems to relax when you don’t push it further. “anyway, i could walk you home if you want. just in case, you know?”

you shrug. it’s not like you mind. "okay, but only because you’re weirdly persistent."

he grins, clearly relieved. "wouldn’t dream of letting you walk alone."

it’s an awkward, quiet walk. mostly because spider-man doesn’t seem to know how to start a normal conversation. his silence is comfortable, though, like there’s no need to fill the space. just walking with him feels nice.

by the time you’re at your front door, you’re laughing over something dumb that shinyu had said earlier. you feel strangely at ease.

"thanks for walking me home," you say.

he shrugs. “it’s nothing. just doing my part.”

you smile, heart skipping a beat. "goodnight, spider-man."

"goodnight," he replies, his voice soft. then, as usual, he’s gone before you can say anything else.

—

the routine builds quickly after that.

it becomes normal to see him around whenever you’re out at night.

he always seems to be around, sometimes just dropping in for a casual chat, other times swooping in to rescue you from the occasional shady character or two.

but it’s the quiet moments you start to cherish.

there’s one night where you and shinyu are hanging out on the rooftop of your building, talking about life as you always do. the sky is clear, the stars twinkling, and it feels like a moment frozen in time.

shinyu is sprawled across the floor, pretending to sleep, while you’re sitting with your legs dangling over the edge, arms resting on your knees.

“so,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. “what’s the deal with spider-man, anyway? you two talk a lot now.”

you freeze for a second, eyes narrowing. “what do you mean ‘talk a lot?’”

he raises his hands in mock surrender. “i’m just saying. you two have some weird dynamic. are you, like, dating or something?”

you laugh it off. “what? no! it’s just... he’s, uh, nice. i don’t know, he’s just been around when i’ve needed him, that’s all.”

shinyu sits up, raising an eyebrow. “oh, really? just ‘happens’ to be there. that’s cute.”

you roll your eyes. “he’s cool, okay?”

he gives you a knowing look. “if you say so.”

before you can respond, you hear the familiar sound of whoosh above you.

spider-man drops down onto the roof, landing lightly beside you with an easy smile.

“hey, guys,” he says casually, like he hasn’t just flown in to join the conversation.

you smile at him, your heart fluttering a little. “hey, spider-man.”

shinyu squints at him, grinning. “so, we’re just hanging out, huh? that’s cool. do you want anything to drink?”

spider-man looks at him in confusion. “huh?”

“i mean, you’re here now. should we get drinks?” shinyu gestures to the corner store below. “i’ll go down and grab something. you want anything?”

spider-man glances at you first, and then back at shinyu, his expression unreadable for a moment.

“uh, sure,” he says, his voice a little uncertain. “i’ll just have whatever you’re getting.”

shinyu gives a little nod before standing up and heading down the stairs to the convenience store.

you and spider-man are left alone again.

the air feels different this time, like the space between you has changed. you both sit there in silence for a moment.

he clears his throat. “so, uh... how’s the studying going?”

you laugh softly. “honestly? i want to burn my textbooks.”

he chuckles. “yeah, i get that. same.”

you glance at him, curious. “you study too?”

he shrugs, looking awkward. “well... when i’m not being, you know, spider-man. i try to keep up.”

you nod, smiling. “cool. you seem smart.”

he looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah, well, it’s all kind of a... blur, y’know?”

you laugh again. "yeah, i know exactly what you mean."

and suddenly, you realize something.

you’re actually... comfortable with him.

not just the whole superhero thing, not just the awkwardness, but the person behind it. you don’t need to be on edge around him.

and somehow, that makes you feel both lighter and a little strange.

later, shinyu returns with drinks, and the conversation picks up again. spider-man relaxes a little more, though he still seems a bit fidgety.

you can’t help but notice how, even now, when he’s around shinyu, he still doesn’t seem to know how to act. there’s an ease to his awkwardness that’s almost endearing.

shinyu teases him a little, asking if he’s ever had to take his suit off after a long night of “saving people” and spider-man just shrugs awkwardly, mumbling something about the suit being “perfectly breathable” as if that’s the most casual thing in the world.

it’s a weird dynamic, but it works.

and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel quite so... lonely.

—

when it’s time to leave, spider-man walks you home again, which is literally downstairs.

you’re still laughing from something shinyu said, but when you glance over at spider-man, you notice him looking at you more seriously than usual.

“you okay?” you ask, surprised by the shift in his mood.

“yeah,” he replies, his voice quiet. “just... it’s nothing. just wanted to check on you.”

you smile softly. “you do that a lot.”

he shrugs. “it’s my job, right?”

and even though he says that, you can see the hint of something more. something deeper.

you’re not sure what it is, but you feel it.

you smile to yourself, wondering if maybe you’re starting to understand him a little better.

when you get to your front door, you wave goodbye, but this time, he doesn’t leave immediately.

he lingers.

“goodnight, spider-man,” you say quietly.

“goodnight.”

he’s gone before you can blink.

and you can’t help but feel like there’s something he’s not saying. something important.

—

you’re at school, sitting with shinyu during lunch, lazily picking at your food as the two of you chat about the usual, homework, annoying teachers, and how much you’d rather be anywhere else.

and then, somehow, the conversation lands on him.

"so, spider-man," shinyu says, taking a sip of his drink. "you never really told me. what’s the deal with that?"

you blink, caught off guard. "what do you mean?"

shinyu shrugs. "i mean, you guys talk a lot. what’s he like?"

you pause, considering it. "well... he’s nice. kind of awkward, but in a cute way. and, i don’t know, i feel like i can actually talk to him, you know?"

shinyu raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. "so you like talking to him."

"obviously," you say, rolling your eyes. "he’s funny, easy to be around, and—"

you pause for half a second.

shinyu waits.

"... and?"

you shrug, acting like what you’re about to say is no big deal. "and he’s kinda hot."

it happens instantly.

a loud choking sound from the table next to you.

you both turn your heads.

jake sim, golden boy of the school, is currently dying.

he’s hunched over, violently coughing, his drink abandoned as he tries to catch his breath. his friends, some of the other popular kids, are just watching him, either concerned or mildly entertained.

"bro, what is wrong with you?" one of them asks, patting jake on the back.

jake wheezes.

you stare at him, blinking. "... you good?"

he looks up at you, eyes wide, mouth slightly open like he just realized he made a scene.

"uh—yeah! yes! i’m fine!" he blurts out, too loudly.

you and shinyu exchange a look.

"uh-huh," you say, unconvinced.

jake quickly grabs his drink again, pretending like nothing happened, but you can see it, how his ears are red, how he’s suddenly so focused on stirring his drink with his straw like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

weird.

shinyu, being shinyu, decides to push it.

"wait, you were listening to us?" he says, grinning.

"no!" jake says, way too fast. "i wasn’t listening! i just— i mean— i heard something, but it wasn’t on purpose—"

he stops himself, as if realizing he’s making it worse.

you stare at him, trying to figure out what his deal is.

jake sim is, objectively, very attractive. everyone at school knows it. he’s the kind of guy who could probably get away with murder just by looking at someone the right way.

but right now?

right now, he looks like a glitching NPC.

shinyu smirks. "so, which part made you choke? the part where spider-man is easy to talk to, or the part where he’s hot?"

jake makes a strangled sound, like he just swallowed his soul.

"i—" he starts, then stops, looking deeply uncomfortable.

you narrow your eyes at him.

"wait," you say suddenly, realization hitting. "do you know spider-man?"

jake freezes.

his eyes dart around the table, as if searching for an escape route.

"i—uh—no?" he tries, but it sounds more like a question than an answer.

"that was very convincing," you deadpan.

"thank you," he says automatically. then, realizing what he just did, he groans and drags a hand down his face.

you just stare at him.

what is up with this guy?

shinyu snickers. "dude, you’re acting real suspicious right now."

"i am not," jake says, still looking very much suspicious.

you and shinyu both just keep staring at him.

jake, unable to handle the attention, suddenly stands up. "gotta go!" he announces, grabbing his tray and practically sprinting away from the table.

... what.

you blink. "okay, what was that?"

shinyu just laughs. "no clue, but that was hilarious."

you shake your head, still baffled.

jake sim is weird.

—

that night, like clockwork, spider-man appears.

you’re outside, walking back from the convenience store, a bag of snacks in your hand when you hear the familiar thwip of a web.

you don’t even flinch anymore.

“oh, hey,” you say as he lands beside you. "you’re early tonight."

spider-man, who seems slightly fidgety for some reason, clears his throat. "uh, yeah. just happened to be around."

you nod. "right. as always."

there’s a beat of silence as the two of you start walking.

then, spider-man casually goes, "sooo... you think i’m hot?"

you freeze mid-step.

"what—"

he panics immediately. "i mean—! not that i heard you say that or anything, but like— well, let’s say hypothetically you did say that, and hypothetically i overheard—"

you narrow your eyes. "did you overhear?"

he hesitates for a full second before blurting, "no!"

"uh-huh."

he coughs. "but if you did think that— i mean, just out of curiosity, uh... what part exactly were you talking about?"

you stare at him.

he shifts, looking way too eager but also like he might die on the spot.

you decide to mess with him.

"i dunno," you say, pretending to think. "maybe the mask? keeps things mysterious."

"mysterious," he echoes.

"or maybe the whole... ‘hero of the city’ thing," you continue. "kind of hard not to find that attractive."

"oh," he says weakly.

you glance at him.

his shoulders are tense. he’s definitely blushing. even through the mask, you can tell.

you bite back a grin. "why do you ask, spider-man? you interested in what i think?"

"wh—no! i mean— i guess? maybe? i just—" he stops mid-sentence, suddenly frustrated with himself.

you laugh. "wow. you get flustered really easily."

"i do not," he lies.

you grin.

he’s so bad at this.

but... it’s kind of cute.

he clears his throat, clearly desperate to change the subject. "so! um! anyway! totally unrelated question—"

"uh-huh?"

"—but, like... have you ever thought that maybe you already know me?"

you blink. "what?"

he shrugs, trying to sound casual. "i mean, like, what if i wasn’t just spider-man? what if i was, i dunno... someone you see every day?"

you frown, confused.

"... but you’re not," you say simply. "i’d recognize your voice."

spider-man pauses.

"oh," he says.

like he just remembered that’s a thing.

you keep walking, completely missing the way his entire body slumps.

"why?" you ask, glancing at him. "are you secretly my math teacher or something?"

he lets out a weird, awkward laugh. "pfft. no! definitely not. that’d be, um. weird."

you snort. "right... mr. lee..?"

spider-man sighs, clearly realizing this isn’t going anywhere. "never mind," he mutters.

you just shrug. "okay. anyway, are we getting snacks or what?"

he perks up instantly. "yes! let’s do that."

he’s back to normal.

but inside, jake sim is screaming.

when you get home, you fall onto your bed, thinking about the conversation you just had.

weird.

he was acting weird.

but it’s probably nothing.

meanwhile, somewhere across the city, jake is lying face down on his bed, aggressively kicking his feet like a teenage girl in a romcom, absolutely mortified.

his friends are still roasting him for what happened at lunch.

he’s never going to live this down.

—

rooftops are underrated.

shinyu agrees.

“this is the best place to complain about life,” he says, stretching out on the rooftop ledge. “no teachers, no school stress, just the city and the stars.”

“and potential death if you slip,” you point out.

“adds to the thrill.”

you laugh, taking a deep breath as the cool night air brushes against your skin. it’s peaceful up here, the hum of the city below feeling distant, almost like background noise.

this is your favorite part of the night, escaping the weight of the day, letting yourself exist without expectations.

shinyu, lounging beside you, throws a crumpled snack wrapper at you. “so. be honest. do you think mr. lee is actually grading our essays or just randomly handing out scores?”

“random,” you say immediately. “there’s no way he read mine. i wrote a whole paragraph about how pigeons should have jobs and still got an A.”

shinyu nearly chokes on his drink. “what?”

“i was sleep-deprived, okay?”

“bro.”

you grin, nudging his shoulder. shinyu’s dramatic laughter echoes in the open air, and for a second, it feels like nothing else matters.

but then—

thwip.

a familiar sound.

you don’t even flinch.

shinyu, however, does. “bro,” he says, staring at the figure that just landed on the rooftop. “your weird little superhero friend is here again.”

spider-man straightens up. “hey,” he says, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie over his suit.

“oh, great,” shinyu mutters. “now i have to third-wheel whatever this weird thing is.”

you roll your eyes. “it’s not weird.”

spider-man, beside you, shifts. “wait. what’s not weird?”

shinyu smirks. “you and them.”

spider-man nearly trips over his own feet. “what?”

you laugh. “ignore him, he’s just being annoying.”

“i’m just saying,” shinyu teases, standing up and stretching, “i feel like a chaperone. anyway, i’m heading home before mr. lee assigns another test. try not to die.”

you wave him off, watching as he climbs down the fire escape.

the second he’s gone, spider-man sighs dramatically. “your friend is kind of scary.”

“he’d love to hear that.”

he chuckles, shaking his head. “so. you just hang out on rooftops for fun?”

“why not?” you shrug. “it’s peaceful. no school, no responsibilities, no—”

you shift slightly on the ledge—

and your foot slips.

for a split second, your stomach drops.

but before you can even process it—

strong hands grab your waist, pulling you back to safety.

your breath catches.

you don’t even have time to think before you’re pressed against him, his hands still firmly holding you, your faces way too close.

your brain short-circuits.

spider-man tenses.

his mask hides his expression, but you can feel the shift, the sudden awareness of just how close you are.

your hands are gripping his arms, his hands are still on your waist, and for a moment, neither of you move.

the air is thick.

his breathing is a little uneven.

he’s calm on the outside, but inside?

jake sim is losing his mind.

because oh my god.

he is touching you.

holding you.

you’re close enough that he can see every little detail, the way your lips part slightly in surprise, the way your eyes flicker down for a second before meeting his again.

he’s panicking.

but he cannot show it.

so he clears his throat, trying to sound casual. “you, uh. good?”

you blink, snapping out of it.

“oh. yeah. thanks for—” you gesture vaguely, still hyper-aware of his hands.

spider-man nods, though his brain is still buffering.

he should move.

but his hands don’t move.

why aren’t they moving?

he’s gripping your waist like you’re going to fall again, like he has to keep holding on, and it takes everything in him to not scream.

you tilt your head.

“... you okay?”

"me? oh! yeah! totally fine! absolutely not freaking out or anything!”

you squint at him.

"... you sure?"

"yep! totally! one hundred percent normal behavior happening right now!"

he still hasn’t let go.

you raise an eyebrow.

he realizes he still hasn’t let go.

"oh! right! my bad!"

he snatches his hands away like he just touched fire, stumbling back a step.

you blink at him.

he looks like he just had an out-of-body experience.

"... you’re acting weird," you say.

"no, i’m not!" he says, voice cracking.

you stare at him for another second before shrugging. "okay."

you sit back down like nothing happened.

spider-man stands there, physically trying to reboot.

—

the next day at school, jake sim is a mess.

he is so weird about it.

you don’t even notice at first, too busy going about your day, but then, little things start adding up.

like how he keeps running into walls.

or how he drops his books every time you walk by.

or how, when you pass him in the hallway, he does a 180-degree spin and walks the other direction like he just forgot where he was going.

it’s like he has no motor skills around you.

and the worst part?

everyone notices.

"bro, what is your deal?" one of his friends asks after jake nearly trips over thin air.

jake just groans, aggressively rubbing his face. "i don’t wanna talk about it."

his friends exchange a look.

"you’ve been acting weird since yesterday," one of them says. "what happened?"

"nothing!"

"are you sure?"

"yes!" jake says, too fast. "i’m totally fine! absolutely normal! definitely not thinking about anything that happened on a rooftop last night!"

his friends blink.

"... what?"

jake.exe has stopped working.

"i gotta go," he says, shoving his books into his bag and sprinting away before they can ask any more questions.

meanwhile, you, completely oblivious to his entire breakdown, sit down with shinyu at lunch, happily eating your food.

"hey," shinyu says, nudging you. "you notice how jake’s been acting extra weird today?"

you pause mid-bite. "huh?"

"he keeps running into things. i think you broke him."

"... what did i do?"

shinyu shrugs. "no clue. but it’s hilarious."

you glance across the cafeteria.

jake is at his table, looking stressed.

you don’t think much of it.

meanwhile, jake is sitting there, gripping his drink, replaying last night’s moment in his head like a broken record, absolutely suffering.

there’s something weird about jake sim.

not in an obvious way, he’s still the school’s golden boy, still effortlessly good-looking, still surrounded by people who seem drawn to him like he has his own gravitational pull.

but ever since you started talking to spider-man, something feels... off.

and the more you think about it, the more you realize...

jake and spider-man are kind of similar.

not in every way, obviously.

spider-man is cool in a nerdy, awkward way. jake is just awkward.

spider-man is confident until he’s flustered. jake is flustered until he’s more flustered.

but there are little things. things that stick in your mind and refuse to leave.

the way they both stutter when they’re flustered.

the way they both react too strongly when you mention something embarrassing.

the way spider-man somehow always reacts to things you say about jake sim a little too specifically.

you wouldn’t normally care.

except now you do so you decide to test him.

the opportunity presents itself in the middle of lunch.

shinyu is ranting about his math teacher, and you’re half-listening, half-watching as jake sits at his usual table across the cafeteria.

he looks tired.

his friends are talking, but he’s zoned out, poking at his food with a fork like it personally offended him.

for once, no one is paying attention to him.

so you turn to shinyu and casually say,

"hey. you ever think jake sim is kinda... spider-man-y?"

shinyu blinks. "what."

you shrug. "just saying. they kinda act the same sometimes."

"what kind of reach—"

you don’t get to respond.

because across the cafeteria, jake, mid-bite into his sandwich, freezes.

like, completely.

his jaw locks, his eyes widen slightly, and for a second, he just sits there, bread still between his teeth, looking like he’s buffering.

it’s only when one of his friends elbows him that he starts moving again, slowly, mechanically, chewing like he suddenly forgot how food works.

you watch this unfold with mild amusement.

shinyu squints. "okay, that was weird."

"right?"

you decide to take it further.

"also, if you really think about it, their voices are kind of similar," you add, casually sipping your drink.

jake, still trying to recover from his sandwich malfunction, visibly flinches.

his friend frowns. "dude, are you good?"

"mhm!" jake squeaks, before quickly stuffing more food into his mouth to avoid talking.

his ears are so red.

shinyu glances between you and him. "...did you just break jake sim?"

"interesting," you say, watching as jake forces himself to act normal, failing spectacularly.

very suspicious.

—

that night, spider-man shows up like always.

you’re sitting on your usual rooftop spot, legs dangling over the edge.

he lands beside you, slightly out of breath.

you tilt your head. “you good?”

"yep!" he says. "totally! just... busy day."

you hum.

"...sooo," you start, watching him closely, "something really funny happened today."

spider-man tenses. "oh? uh. what?"

you grin. "i was talking to shinyu about how jake sim kinda reminds me of you."

he flinches.

"oh?"

"yeah," you say, leaning in slightly. "you both get flustered really easily."

"what? no, i don’t!"

you raise an eyebrow. "you’re literally flustered right now."

"no, i’m not!"

you squint.

he shifts uncomfortably.

"also," you continue, "you have the same little mannerisms sometimes. like how you rub the back of your neck when you’re nervous."

his hand immediately drops from the back of his neck.

you stare.

he stares back.

"...okay, that was suspicious."

"what was?"

"that!"

"what?"

"you just—" you gesture vaguely. "you’re acting weird."

"i’m always weird!"

"true," you admit.

he sighs in relief.

but you’re not done.

"also, your voice kinda sounds like his."

"what?!"

"just a little," you say, watching him panic. "not enough for most people to notice, but still."

"n-no it doesn’t!"

"you sure?"

"positive!"

you hum.

"you definitely don’t have anything you wanna tell me?"

"nope! nothing at all! absolutely nothing weird happening here!*"

you squint.

he is sweating.

interesting.

—

jake sim has fought criminals, dodged gunfire, and swung through the city at terrifying speeds—

but this is the most nerve-wracking thing he’s ever done.

because tonight, he’s going to tell you.

he’s going to take off the mask, look you in the eye, and say it, 'i’m spider-man. i’m also jake sim. and i like you. a lot.'

he’s been rehearsing it in his head for days.

except now that he’s actually standing on the rooftop where you usually meet, waiting for you, his brain is short-circuiting.

what if you get mad? what if you feel betrayed? what if you never want to talk to him again?

he groans into his hands. this was a terrible idea.

but he can’t back out now.

not when he hears footsteps coming up the fire escape.

his heart nearly leaps out of his chest.

okay, okay. just act normal. wait, no—don't act normal, you’re always awkward. act... slightly less awkward. you can do this. you got this.

he takes a deep breath.

the door creaks open.

he turns around, already preparing himself—

and then immediately panics because—

oh god. that’s not you. that’s shinyu.

shinyu blinks. “oh.”

jake freezes.

shinyu squints. “what are you doing here?”

"nothing!" spider-man blurts out. "just—y’know. being spider-man. normal superhero things. ha ha."

shinyu looks so unimpressed. "right."

jake is internally screaming. where are you?? why is shinyu here instead?? he was so ready.

shinyu leans against the rooftop railing, arms crossed. "so. waiting for someone?"

spider-man stiffens. "uh—no! no, just... hanging out."

shinyu hums.

spider-man shifts uncomfortably.

there's a beat of silence before shinyu smirks. "you’re totally waiting for y/n, aren’t you?"

spider-man chokes on air.

"what?!"

shinyu laughs. "dude, relax. you guys seem close, that’s all."

spider-man doesn’t know what to say.

shinyu keeps going, teasing. "you like them or something?"

spider-man malfunctions.

because the answer is yes, so much yes, oh my god yes, but he cannot say that.

so he just stands there, absolutely flustered, failing to form a single coherent word.

shinyu raises an eyebrow. "wait. do you like them?"

"WHAT? NO. HAHAHA. HA." spider-man's voice cracks.

shinyu stares.

spider-man stares back.

the silence is deafening.

then shinyu grins.

"oh my god, you totally do."

spider-man groans and buries his face in his hands. this is a disaster.

shinyu laughs. "don’t worry, i won’t tell."

"thank you," spider-man mutters, still dying inside.

shinyu pats his shoulder. "good luck, loverboy."

and with that, he leaves, completely unaware that he just ruined the big reveal.

spider-man sighs so hard.

he’s going to scream into his pillow when he gets home.

—

jake sim has been so, so careful.

for months, he’s balanced both sides of his life perfectly, being the popular golden boy at school while keeping his very obvious crush on you a secret, and being the confident, quick-witted spider-man who gets to talk to you without turning into a human error message.

but all of that completely shatters in a matter of seconds.

and it’s entirely his fault.

it’s late, and you’re heading home from another study session with shinyu.

your backpack is slung lazily over one shoulder, and you’re lost in thought when suddenly—

"HEY!"

a voice yells from the alley beside you, and before you can react, a blur of red and blue drops down from above.

spider-man.

except something is off.

because he’s standing in front of you... maskless.

his wavy hair is messy, his expression is panicked, and his wide brown eyes lock onto yours in sheer horror.

… jake sim.

"JAKE?" you yelp.

"OH MY GOD." jake grabs his head like he just realized he left the stove on. "OH MY GOD, I FORGOT MY MASK. I—I THOUGHT I PUT IT ON BUT I DIDN’T. I JUST SWUNG DOWN WITHOUT IT—OH, THIS IS SO BAD—"

he starts pacing in frantic circles, muttering a meltdown under his breath. "stupid, stupid, stupid—how do you forget your MASK? how did i even think this was a good idea? i should just move to another country—"

you’re just standing there, staring at him, processing.

spider-man is jake sim.

jake sim is spider-man.

it all clicks.

the awkwardness. the stammering. the similarities you swore you noticed but ignored.

you slap a hand over your mouth, because instead of being shocked, instead of yelling or freaking out—

you start laughing.

"you’re kidding." you wheeze. "you’re actually kidding."

jake stops spiraling and looks at you like you just started speaking another language. "wait. why are you laughing?"

you’re losing it. "because this makes so much sense now. oh my god. jake."

he goes so red. "don’t say my name like that while i’m wearing the suit, that feels illegal."

but you can’t stop laughing. "i can’t believe i didn’t put this together sooner. you—oh my god, you were literally short-circuiting in front of me at school while having full-on conversations with me as spider-man."

"please," jake begs. "please let me live."

you wipe a tear from your eye, catching your breath. "wait—hold on—" you inhale, trying to compose yourself. "so… does that mean… you had a crush on me this whole time?"

jake freezes.

his entire body locks up like you just hit him with a paralyzing spell.

you raise an eyebrow. "jake."

he doesn’t move.

he doesn’t breathe.

"jake," you say again. "do you—"

"OKAY—" he blurts out, exploding into motion. "yes! yes. i like you. a lot. i have for a really long time. and i know this is probably the worst way for you to find out but—"

you take a step closer.

he shuts up immediately.

he’s still rambling in his head, though, oh my god, they’re looking at me, they’re getting closer, what does this mean, am i going to die—

and then—

you kiss him.

it’s soft, quick, and so unexpected that it completely short-circuits him.

his brain blue-screens.

by the time you pull away, his soul has left his body.

"you just—" he breathes, voice barely above a whisper.

you grin. "you like me."

"YOU JUST KISSED ME."

"yeah." you tilt your head. "you gonna do something about it, spider-man?"

jake.exe has stopped working.

he just stands there, mouth opening and closing, until finally—

he just groans into his hands. "oh my god, i am so in love with you."

~

ty for reading and enjoying !

enha taglist : @minoouz

perm taglist : @s0shroe @minoouz

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Sign of the Times - Carlos Sainz

<word count - 1652>

It had only been a week, yet it felt like a dragged out lifetime of pain and suffering. The time that you had spent apart from Carlos had been the worst hours of your living memory, yet it would be for the rest of your life. 

The two of you had broken up after a 4 year relationship that was filled with love and laughter. The split was allegedly amicable, well, that was what you told yourself to make you feel better. If you forced yourself to believe that you didn't want him anymore either, it would make this easier.

But it didn't.

You spent every last minute mourning the loss of the man who you were certain was the love of your life, and you still weren't convinced that he wasn't. You had had a few, short-term boyfriends in the past, but none of them even held a candle to Carlos.

Even when he was the busiest man on earth, whether it be due to race weekends, sponsorship obligations or personal commitments, he was always there. He was the perfect shoulder to cry on, the comfiest pair of arms to fall into, and the most beautiful face to think of before you went to bed every night.

There was something between the two of you that you felt could never be replicated with another partner, the fire seeming forever quashed. The flames had died out, and they couldn't bribe the doors to heaven on the way to the sky this time. Still, you had to try and push it all aside and live your life, even when there was half of it missing. 

Against your better judgement, you had decided to take Carlos' offer of attending one final grand prix as a final goodbye to the life of big cities and fast cars. Each second that ticked by of your journey was miserable, to say the least.

Normally, you'd be on the flight with Carlos to whatever fancy hotel the team had booked you into and ready for another weekend of adrenaline. That wasn't an option this time, it was more nostalgia with a bitter sweet sting. 

All of this was for the last time. You wouldn't be going to a race again, you wouldn't be stood in the garage again, you wouldn't be the girlfriend of the F1 superstar, Carlos Sainz, ever again. Well, you could attend races again, but that didn't mean you wanted to.

From the moment you touched down at the airport to the second you flopped down on your hotel bed, everything was a blur. You didn't quite know whether it was because you weren't concentrating, or because your eyes were hazed over with tears, or because of the humid Mexican heat. But, it wasn't clear either way. 

You decided not to go to practice and qualis, not wanting to look at Carlos unless he was driving for an hour and a half straight. That would give you time to slip away so that you didn't have to see him in person. That would make you sob and look like a wreck in front of everyone. 

You couldn't help but watch qualifying on the TV, and you hated the smile that tugged at your lips when you saw he was on pole. The pride that swelled in your chest was something that you wish you could push down and ignore, but that wasn't possible.

You saw that smile on his face as he went for his interview, and that glint in his eye that appeared when he was really happy with his performance. If things were as they should have been, you would have gone and kissed him senseless and told him how amazing he was, despite the fact that he already knew it.

He'd spend the night in bed, planning out every last race detail that he could to make it as successful as he could, and you would be fully content with just sitting there and watching his mind work. It was really brilliant to see Carlos do what he did best, and it just showed that he was made for it. 

"Why do you always just sit there and watch me?" he would ask each weekend, without fail.

"Because I like looking at you," would always be your response, and you always got the same reaction. He'd put his notes down and wrap an arm around your waist, tugging you into his lap so that he could kiss you until you couldn't breathe.

Just the thought of it made it feel like there was a hand squeezing your throat as tears welled up in your eyes. You turned the TV off, not even bothering to get changed as you tried to force yourself to go to sleep. 

Your pillowcase became wet with tears as you silently sobbed yourself into a fitful slumber, your mind forcing you to watch your favourite memories of Carlos while you were unconscious. Even in your sleep, you couldn't escape the evocations that haunted you like a ghost on halloween. 

Eventually, your alarm went off and you wasted no time in getting up and getting ready. The routine was numbing, but it gave you something to do. If your brain could focus on something else, then it wouldn't be thinking about Carlos. 

Giving yourself a once over in the mirror,  you saw your normal self. Your hair was immaculate as ever, your makeup was flawless and you were dressed in one of those pretty sundresses that Carlos had always loved. But, the spark was missing. The glow that you had was dimmed out, like when the clouds sat in front of the moon. 

At least clouds could blow over, and you were hoping that that could be the case for you. The gloom would eventually fizzle out and return to the brightness that you were used to. Then, you'd be able to carry on with your life and somehow get to be the best version of you, even when you were missing the best part of you. 

You arrived at the track early, taking the familiar path to the garage and sitting down at the back. A team member handing you a set of headphones, and you got comfortable for the long-haul. You could have gone and wandered around the pitlane and grid with celebrities and journalists, but you didn't want to be seen. 

Finally, all of the drivers were in their cars and you got to see the five red lights go out for one more time on race day. It was time for the final show. You'd been here before and it was what you knew, but it didn't make it any easier to endure. 

The time had passed by within a flash, and you didn't want it to be over. You wanted to stop the hands on the nearest clock just so that you could take it all in for one final time. It was true when they said that you don't realise what you have until it's gone, and it was really hitting home.

The life you were living was the life that dreams were made of, and you hadn't fully appreciated it until it was being ripped away from you. You wanted to dig your nails in and grip onto it harder, hold onto it for longer, claw it back for a minute more. 

The joy that everyone else felt when Carlos crossed the line in first place was palpable, but not reciprocated. As much as you wanted to leave and bid it a not so fond farewell, your feet stayed rooted to the spot as the team cleared out of the garage to parc ferme to greet Carlos when he parked up. 

On the screen, you watched as he leapt into their arms, fist punching at the air. You wanted so desperately to be happy for him, but your attempts at forcing such emotion were futile. All you felt was anguish. You realised that coming here wasn't delivering the closure that you thought it would, but it was too late. 

Someone in the team had dragged you out to the podium ceremony, unaware of the status between you and the Spaniard. You didn't want to be there, not in the slightest. Seeing him so happy while you were utterly miserable was a slap to the face. It was like he had taken a scalpel to the barely healed over wound, slicing it clean open again. You felt the familiar burn of tears pricking the backs of your eyes.

As the Spanish anthem played, his eyes scanned over the audience. For a brief moment, his eyes locked with yours and you knew that it would be the last time. You could tell that he had seen the tears as his expression softened, but that was all he gave you. Carlos could have been holding it together, but you knew him better than that. He didn't think you'd be there, that was all.

It really was a sign of the times, and your week of convincing yourself that this was amicable was now up. If you had the option, you'd take him back and never let go. Just as quickly as his eyes had met yours, they were on the other people in the crowd. 

It felt like you had meant nothing to him with the way that he was able to skim over you so easily after such a fresh breakup. The Italian anthem transitioned in, and the team was jumping and singing along on all of your sides. You would have joined them, but there was no point. You could have joined them, but there was no point. You should have joined them, but there was no point. 

The tears that you had been holding in all day ran down your cheeks like the droplets of champagne dripped down Carlos' face. You couldn't help but cry. He used to be yours. But he wasn't. Not anymore. 

A/N - I was so tempted to call this a 'Sain' of the Times but I thought that the joke didn't fit the story lolll. If you've reached this far, a reblog on this would be greatly appreciated, and so would a read on the mafia Charles series, which you can find here.

Also, I need some ideas since mine aren't hitting, so drop any that you have in my inbox! Love y'all 💖

|masterlist|

[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

[dayntee]

So I finished Veilguard a while back, and of course I have thoughts. I'm sure none of them are original and have been plenty stated, but hey, we all need to mourn a game when we're done with it for better or worse, so here's mine.

Note: I wrote and queued this before I was aware of the layoffs at Bioware today. This is, in no way, meant to rub salt in the wound or point fingers. If anything, I'm gutted for the people who poured their heart into this game only to be found jobless today. I'm in the exact same position myself, and have nothing but empathy for the situation. To spoil what's below - I enjoyed my time with Veilguard. It could have been better, and if you're a dev that worked on it, you probably know that. I'm sorry it's turned out the way it has, but thank you for the experience regardless. It was a fun game.

Spoilers after the break, obviously. Be aware there will be discourse, but I'm not here specifically to bash. If anything, I'm actually still grateful for the experience.

Overall, I did enjoy my time with Veilguard. After all, my final save file was around the 85 hour mark, so clearly I had no issues continuing to sink time into the game. I itched to play when I wasn't, and I got my Solavellan ending I've been waiting 10 years for, and I damn near 100%'d the whole thing (including getting the hidden cinematic after the credits). So what went wrong? What did I not like? Why do I feel so… empty now that it's over?

If I were to summarize my issues and feelings with Veilguard, it's that it felt like it gave just enough to be passable content, but never committed to being a truly exemplary experience. In every way, from system design to companion design to overarching story to itemization, everything is fine… but not great.

Knowing that DAV went through development hell contextualizes a lot of these issues. If the art book is to be believed, the project had two full blown restart buttons pushed and many leadership handoffs. I've been in conversations, though, where folks ask "Why on earth could DA2 pull off a great storytelling experience, but DAV couldn't?"

There's something else at play, and after my own experiences in the game industry and squinting between the lines to try to glean what I think may have gone wrong, I have a hunch. Pure speculation ahead: I don't think leadership ever fully agreed on a committed vision.

The broad strokes are there, and they are strong:

The Lighthouse is a cool fucking hub. It grows with your group, responds to their needs, and shapes itself around you as you experience the world. The concept of this is dope AF.

The goal is closure on all the questions left unanswered after DAI. It does get to most of these, even if not as fully and as satisfying as some of us lore nerds would have liked.

Combat is fluid and pretty engaging (at least at first). It's simple, fun, and generally fulfills power fantasies well (for context, I specialized as a full Veil Jumper Archery Rogue).

WE GET TO EXPLORE NORTHERN THEDAS. This is so cool and a place we've all wanted to go for ages. TEVINTER. NEVARRA. WEISSHAUPT. All exciting prospects.

Level design and map design are pretty A+, imo. Landscapes and set dressings are beautiful and artfully crafted. Even if there are aspects of the visual design you disagree with, they committed to it and fulfilled it well.

Exploration is fun. I rarely hunt down every chest in a game. I could not stop treasure hunting for the life of me, and some of those hidden treasures felt really special and rewarding to uncover.

The cast of characters and factions you interact with are interesting and very different - from one another and from previous casts. It's nice to see some new tropes that either haven't been used or have been out of rotation for a while.

Solas is a good antagonist. He was before, and he still is, and biased Solasmancing aside - I always looked forward to the breaks in the game where I got to banter with the Egg.

Voice over cast is fantastic. I know some folks were less fond of non-British/American accents, but honestly, I was very fine with it. It reinforced that this part of Thedas, and this time in the overall storyline, is new and different. Thedas is changing, and so are its people.

All these things said - every single positive I have above feels like they were baseline requirements for a AAA Bioware RPG. That they don't go above and beyond these bare minimums is where the game feels like it fails, especially as a payoff for a critically acclaimed entry that's 10 years old and has a passionately dedicated fanbase.

A phrase I've been using a lot with folks is that DAV feels like the Lacroix of Dragon Age games. It's got the branding, it looks like Dragon Age, and it kind of tastes like Dragon Age, but�� just barely. It leaves you feeling like it's lacking. It's a hint of it, and going back to drink it again doesn't quite satisfy you.

What we call this in game development is minimum viable product (MVP), which is usually trotted out at the point by production and/or leadership when you realize you've meandered on the project for so long that you just gotta ship something. This works if you're actually going to commit to polishing it up and continuing to make it better after launch for a live service game; fix it later is fine when that's a reasonable expectation.

But Veilguard walked back on that concept. It no longer was going to be live service, but a one-and-done, and the final, late pivot meant it just had less time to cook in its final form and likely a ton of wasted work that got chucked out. There are so many places where the experience feels like an alpha or beta version of what they actually wanted to do. The Lighthouse and Companions as a whole both exemplify this; they feel and look cool, but the experience of both are shallow and underdeveloped. They felt like they were missing something.

The most egregious issues, in my opinion, in no particular order:

Apologies in advance if they're your favorite, but Rook is probably the worst protagonist we've ever been given. Not because their concept is inherently bad, but because I couldn't really make them mine. Rook has no arc, makes few decisions that truly matter, and no moral conundrums barring maybe the Treviso/Minrathous decision. Even then—it feels like there's a right answer to that decision.

To explain: Minrathous gets fucked at the end of the game anyway. If you pick to save Minrathous, you've just doomed two metropolis level cities to excessive death and destruction AND locked yourself out of a potential romance option for no particular reason.

Rook's actions in Thedas also matter the least. The end state of the game is the same no matter what: the Evanuris fall, and the Veil is preserved. How you do it is largely immaterial. In every other game entry, shit can seriously go sideways and it's always directly because of your decisions.

Companion arcs are largely shallow and so reliant on Rook, they fail to feel real. Some of these arcs are more egregious in this manner than others, and some of them have truly excellent stories to tell (oh, hi there Emmrich). But even with the best arcs, this person asks you to make utterly life-altering decisions for them and you've probably known them for like a month or two at best. It just doesn't feel like I, as the PC, have the right to make that call, or that I've earned it. There's not enough time nor enough high stakes prior to those moment.

I won't beat this one to death, but the limited amount of previous choices not mattering in this entry hurts, and I know how complicated it would have been to explore all of them. That said, there were a few that had a ton of specific investment that deserved better resolution: Kieran in particular would have mattered so fucking much if he existed as canon. I understand that's the crux of the problem, but it makes it so that if he was part of your world state in both DAO and DAI, his absence is all the more noticeable.

The South being destroyed off-screen through text will never not bother me. The Inquisitor is apparently faffing about doing fuck all with the resources they've built over time, especially if they chose not to disband the Inquisition. They didn't chase after Solas, who they knew was going to be a problem, and then they ALSO let the South fall? I'm sorry - it does a hero that the majority of this fandom is most likely heavily invested in the worst service no matter which way you look at it.

Veilguard feels like a game that couldn't get out of its own way. The part that has me grieving the most is that you can see under the surface a great game was there, but just not fully realized.

Without being one of the people who made the game, we can only speculate and can't presume the cause for why we got what we did. Hell, as someone who works in game development, sometimes you never get the answer yourself as to why things went so horribly sideways. The larger the game and studio, the more blind spots you're likely going to have on the overall project.  That said, I have nothing but empathy for the Veilguard team. It's very clear that at least the majority of folks working on it poured in a ton of work and cared a lot about it.

It's not my place to blame anyone in particular for it, because I don't have the first-hand knowledge necessary to cast that judgement. I hope the folks who worked on this don't let it get them too down; you still made a fun game. And I'm sure you're just as disappointed it wasn't the love letter to Dragon Age that you probably wanted it to be, as much as any of us fans who feel it didn't meet the bar.

You had an impossible job to do; the expectations here were so high, and you had more obstacles than any dev team should reasonably have during their project, regardless of the expected fires we all run into during development. Despite that, I still had fun, and I still care quite a bit about these characters.

That's worth something. Thank you for the experience.

[rikomoriyama01]

🗣️ (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.

[ssa-dado]

You got me so curious with Angst but make it sitcom? I need to know more 😭

The next image appeared on the screen.

And oh. Oh. It was bad. It was so bad.

Because there you were mid-kiss - and not just a polite, PG-13, “we’re normal coworkers who occasionally peck each other” kiss, no.

Because Aaron Hotchner, your notoriously no-public-displays-of-anything boss-man fiancé, had your face completely caged in his big-ass hairy hands, nose squished into your cheek, your lips barely visible because he was possessively consuming them.

His suit was slightly undone, your hands were in his hair, and if this picture had been taken half a second later, there was a very real possibility that he would have either lifted you up or pressed you against a wall.

It was… it was a lot.

Overwhelmingly affectionate. HR catastrophic. It was so obscene that, even if it had technically happened outside of work, the feral nature of it meant that it should legally count as a workplace safety hazard.

And judging by the way Emily recoiled and muttered a deeply disturbed “Ew”, the jury was in agreement.

To be fair, in your defense, you thought you were alone, you thought no one was seeing you, especially not-

“Uh. Babygirl," Morgan started, already regretting that he was about to comment on the one obvious detail. "Is that… a screenshot of your lock screen?"

[REDACTED]

Morgan blinked, then squinted… because wait a minute. “…Hold on. You mean to tell me my abs didn’t even make it to the lockscreen?”

Garcia gasped. “Derek Morgan, are you jealous?”

“I just think, as a friend, I deserve to be at least as important as their makeout session. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Can we move on before I start drinking at six in the damn morning?” Rossi groaned.

Aaron’s absence was painfully obvious today, and yet - no one was doing anything to stop this.

“ANYWAY.” Garcia slammed the clicker, flipping to the next slide.

This photo was from yesterday. You and Hotch stood on opposite sides of the kitchenette, visibly angry.

In the background? None other than Emily Prentiss - her eyes so wide in horror that, upon seeing herself, she actually muttered a horrified, “Oh God.”

Garcia pointed at the screen. “And this - this is them now. Our beloved, gooey, disgustingly-in-love lovebirds are going through a rough patch. And this, my dear Avengers, is why I have summoned you here today.”

[REDACTED]

Now, if this had been a case, they’d start with victimology, but that was a dead end - because if anyone were the victims here, it was the entire team.

Meanwhile, you and Hotch? A couple of sadistic, fully partnered unsubs locked in an ongoing psychological deathmatch over who was actually in charge of the relationship.

So, no, victimology wasn’t gonna cut it - they had to start with motive.

Why were the two of you at war?

What horrific, unspeakable crime had been committed?

Who had wronged who? Was there a betrayal? A catastrophic event?

Had Hotch accidentally put a book out of order on your shelf? Had you dared to use his fancy scotch glass for something other than scotch?

So many possibilities… and, somehow, all equally probable.

“Planning a wedding is stressful,” JJ offered.

“Hotch is stressful,” Emily corrected.

“His missus ain’t much better,” Morgan chimed in.

“They are both strong-willed, controlling, and share numerous overlapping toxic personality traits - including perfectionism, competitiveness, and a desperate need to be right - resulting in”

“Madonna santa, you’re all so dumb” (Rossi was particularly snappy that day because he had not had his full eight hours of sleep.) “It’s not some grand mystery. They haven’t gotten laid in over a week because of the last case. That’s it. Fine. Capito?”

Hiiii gorge!!!! Thank you so much for asking!!! I hope it makes sense hahahah

[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?"

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

[depmode]

Get to know your OC

tagged by @amellderiva, and i am always happy to take any opportunity to Yap.

GENERAL

Name: Sasha Ingellvar

Alias: Rook, Young Ingellvar by older Watchers, Aubergine once upon a time

Gender: dude. that he has boobs and a banging snatch are bonuses. (i do not use any label for him beyond Male and he doesn't either)

Age: 27

Spoken languages: common/trade, nevarran, probably starts to pick up more during DAV but certainly not fluently, probably knows funerary rights and such things in multiple languages

Sexual orientation: gay (but open to romps in the sheets with anyone if it sounds fun enough)

Occupation: former Mortuary Anatomist, dealing with all things corpse and body prep related + occasional Necropolis guard/guide/a MW with actual great social skills so he was made to use them as necessary lol. after DAV ?????

FAVORITE

Color: purple

Pastime: makeup, a million different little hobbies (piano, candle making, stained glass, embroidery, beading, drawing, sculpture, pottery, and so on. very jack of all trades master of none), reading, scuttling around every nook and cranny of the Necropolis like a feral creature

Food: soup, salad, basically anything that's kind of like 'bunch of stuff tossed altogether in a bowl', dried fruits, pie

Drink: whatever the thedas equivalent of energy drinks is lol and wine

Books: non-fiction, horror, gets a little into romance thru bellara

HAVE THEY…?

Graduated from university: not officially ig? he did academic stuff well into his 20s tho

Had sex: hahagGaha. yes.

Had sex in public: yes

Gotten tattoos: no, never really thought about it

Gotten piercings: ears

Gotten scarred: ngl i haven't fully decided yet, mostly bc i don't want to have to remember to include them/describe them in writing lmao 💀 in game i use the vivisection scars modded w/o the neck one and ik the origin if i do Commit.

Had a broken heart: several times, but from the same person

Been in love: yeah

ARE THEY…?

A cuddler: when allowed

Scared easily: nope

Jealous easily: hmmm not really but not because he's a chill cool guy but because he taught himself to be unbothered by things all the way up to cheating lol

Trustworthy: yeah ofc

FAMILY

Sibling(s): none

Parents: unknown to him. ik who his mama is but never thought about dad.

Children: no and never

Pets: no and the idea of one is kind of intimidating lol but maybe one day

im going to tag @spoilerknowsbest just to force her ass to look at tumblr for once lmao and You 🫵

[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.

[fredwendelin]

I'm an Agnostic, but...

Sweetie, do I like different lore.

I was crazy about Egyptian lore when I was like, 7? Before my father trashed my Egyptian temple-thingy with those beautiful Hieroglyphs (and I don't even know why, they just disappeared from my room one day).

I grew up in a Catholic school, and while I hate the evil stuff that DO happen there with all my might, I liked hearing about 'Mother Mary' and stuff. It was calming. Also, 'let's eat our God now' is kinda awesomely unhinged. Too bad pedos&everything-phobia. Disgusting.

Stregheria and Wicca. I really liked the lore, the 'your special animal' books, the 'sacred plants' and all that stuff. Also, sex magic was an interesting concept.

I was never much into Greek/Roman lore, but I did love the Percy Jackson books. I would still have the first edition of the first book to this day if it weren't for, you guessed it, my father.

Celtic lore. OH SWEETIE. I loved it. But I remember nothing of it. (I got brain fried in an accident, so some stuff I just forgot. Forever. Such as how to swim, for some reason.)

Arabian lore seems interesting, but I've never really delved into it. If you have any 'intro to the lore' video/book, pls send me. This lore is SO VAST I just feel lost. I'm also interested in Islam lore and the differences between it and Christianity, for research purposes.

Japanese lore. I've been studying it nearly everyday, it's so fascinating. I barely understand it, but anyway. My main source is Kyota Ko. (I hope I'm not trusting the wrong sweetie.)

Chinese lore. It seems SO interesting, I've watched this show where this woman has like, 5 husbands. Awesome. But I understand nothing.

Tarot lore. I love it. I just got this card today that said, Hermit. The internet Tarot cautioned me and said I had to have patience. I nodded and proceeded to have none. Nice try, Tarot. Nice try. (I do love the cards. So many talented artists doing such out-of-this-world work.)

And the reason I even started writing this today: oh I forgot.

Oh after 30 minutes, I remembered it.

Astrology!

Astrology lore.

This post started after I found my old astrology charts. As in, I paid for them. One for business, and another for general stuff like life. Many many many years ago. I thought I'd go at them and say, 'Nah it's true what they say, Astrology is BS'. HAH. Everything on them (I'm yet to read all of the general stuff, though), everything on them was right to a T. I'm kinda scared. And they are detailed, too detailed, not political-vague stuff that could fit into anyone's life and sell.

I'm still Agnostic, I still do not fully commit to either thing and I DO lean more on atheism than theism, but all this lore is so much fun.

I AM HAVING A BLAST AND I'M NOT COMMITING TO ANY SIDE MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

(It IS only for research purposes and intelectual pursuits, but I do think no one will agree with me.)

[aroaceweirdos101]

dream update: The Reality of The Situation /ref (also sorry this becomes formatted like. whatever this is at some point I don't know why I'm writing like this either but it conveys the message so eh)

I can't kill song yet. if I do, the dream will end. if the dream ends before I get MePad back, he's gone forever. and usually I wouldn't just believe what my enemy says, but it's hard to argue with a Zone of Truth.

no new rooms to talk about. but he essentially told me his goal. apparently, according to song, who willingly accepted the effects of a Zone of Truth spell:

ever since he saw MePad the first time, he knew "something was off". after "some research", he found out the whole world was a dream. my dream. (he never explained how)

so he developed that trans-somnial chat log thing. he heard me talk about being a system, he heard me talk to my headmates. but he didn't fully understand.

when. the bunker incident. happened, he saw how desperate I was to stop him from getting to MePad. and how much pure rage was visible in my eyes when I failed. that's when he found out him and I were connected in some way. beyond just, "person having a dream is friends with in-dream NPC".

I asked about WHERE IS THAT.png. it's the same as the picture on the conspiracy board. I asked how he got that picture. he got it from MePad's memories. I realized the height the photo was taken is almost as tall as him, and the two bumps at the bottom of the photo were his feet. he was sitting down.

I asked about the 5 book. "a book on mental conditions, a strange place to find information on the link between something inobject and a Meeple device, no?"

I asked what the passcodes are in the computer room. the spell made it so that he had to give me them. I wrote them down with indents on fireglass.

I asked why he was doing all this. he said it started out as a standard evil scheme trope. to take over Meeple after cobs's death and be worse than him. an irony.

but as he realized things about me, about MePad, about the dream, his goal changed. he sort of "gained real sentience", and became something more than an in-dream NPC himself.

this was his way of getting into the system. "I remembered what I was", he said. "what." "from below, those not yet solid enough to become real."

my eyes widened. for years I've known vaguely about a second layer of the system. none of us could access it, the best contact anyone had was a couple of scattered dreams. all I know about it is it exists, it's the size that would make sense to be directly under the floor of headspace's first layer but it's not there, and there's a giant, many-eyed mass of. something. there.

"layer 2." "if that's what you call it, yes." I blinked. I blinked and I knew things. the ship, there was something on it. many somethings. there was a something standing in front of me. there was a something a few rooms over with its eyes closed. I didn't know how or why, but this-

"well, this is the wrong way to go about becoming 'real'."

I wouldn't let something that commit all these atrocities get what he wants. I was going to trap him, restore not just MePad but all the rest of the meeplers too, and then end this dream once and for all.

...as soon as I can. tomorrow, I'll give Taco the passcodes. I don't know what exactly will happen after that.

- 💭💥

Holy moly guacamole...and here I thought weve already seen all of the plot twists—

Jokes aside, I wish you good luck on your mission!/gen

May this weird sci fi nightmare finally have its happy ending.../gen

[blankd]

read the The Prince in the Basement

it was Not Great and it should NOT have been 400+ pages, spoilers in the read more as I try to flush the problems I had with it out of my brain with a ramble

if it's a trans analogy it says when a trans man transitions, even if he is acknowledged as a man (without question!!) and is able to banish his former female self away without issue, he will in fact drive away everyone because his personality is suddenly repulsive. he will also demonstrate this shitty personality by treating his fiance poorly despite having a loving relationship prior (the fiance being transphobic is ruled out since the fiance is shown to be compassionate to a fault)

if it's NOT a trans analogy it's a story about how a princess who was kept in the dark by everyone around her, if not outright lied to constantly, has so little agency her only two acts of it are: hurting/killing someone she loves (because a man [who is also but maybe not her] lied to her) and then committing magical suicide to undo that mistake. the narrative celebrates this by having the man who materially ruined her life live happily ever after with her fiance (who does not even appear to mourn her).

there is no 'good' way to reconcile this since multiple characters say they are two different people AND two different souls. I don't expect a role model but it makes no sense why the other characters pretzel themselves into being kind to a character who is at best a random stranger (or really, an active asshole).

setting aside the merits of the analogy, there are plainly BAD bits of writing:

-why does the witch who is responsible and knows the MOST out of all the characters not tell the princess she's two-heart? they give her a magic sword and a steed to return home, WHAT is the benefit of withholding this information?

-the fiance can just READ A BOOK in the castle that explains what's up with the princess and the prince- that this revelation is discovered by pulling on a thread relating to the princess's FAMILY LINE is absurd (especially since it's paired with how she lacks a Royal Coronation Item, apparently she never bothered to question this in her 20 years of life AND no one in power investigated to usurp it)

-there are various emotional beats that boil down to "but MY FEELINGS" however that's more subjective, they personally do not work for me since I cannot understand how someone would sacrifice themselves for a dick of a person they've known for LESS THAN A WEEK but like the kokoro or whatever

-one-heart faced discrimination because everyone knows what a two-heart is, but somehow none of the main cast in the castle knows what a two-heart is? sure, I guess. however weird how one-heart is a liar but never tells the princess what two-hearts are until AFTER she's already learned it from a more trustworthy source. I understand the writing point of one-heart's as a 'dark reflection' but his inclusion doesn't match his page count. 100 (maybe even 200!!) pages could have been saved if the witch just said what a two-heart was when they met and chatted with the princess.

anyway I think this story could have been improved by being half/quarter of the length. the prince and princess should NOT be able to exist simultaneously as two different people at once.

the magic bullshit is either one self lives in a crystal or a shadow or something, or it's some portrait of dorian gray shit (but with gender) and the POV character only achieves self-actualization by actually breaking the curse (of gender expectations) or figuring out a loophole to embrace the "curse" fully

[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 🤢🤮

[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.

[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”.