#unconscientiousness

[branmer]

so tired

damn those students. how dare they enjoy their youth and independence

[thefandomdirtymind]

How about opla!sanji being completely in love with the reader the moment he sees them?

It just hits him, bam, love at first sight. He plans to marry them kinda moment. Maybe they are in need of rescue or part of a rival crew.

A/N IMPORTANT:  Hi Anon ! Thank you for your request. I had so much fun writing it and playing with the idea of Sanji just planning his own wedding cake at the first of the reader. I assume by your use of Them that you wanted it gender neutral so I did my best and I hope you will like !

I though I knew love

OPLA - Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader Gender neutral (Them)

Sanji series : SFW Shiny Offering - NSFW The Small Favor - SFW The Mermaid Dream - SFW The Magic of a Kiss  - NSFW Casual

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

---

Love is a strange thing. Leading you to have affection for a thing, a pet, a person, multiple people at once, maybe, one more that another or felt head over heels for somebody at first sight. 

Not that you could tell yourself. Your love life hadn’t nothing to be told if not the term “boring” was the best to describe it. You had ,of course, a certain attraction and affection for your previous partners, but in your experience, the big true love was only things existing in books and short stories. 

However,the last thing you wanted to think about right now was love. The chain retraining your wrist was starting to get itchy, the little drop of water falling from the ceiling every ten seconds slowly gave you headaches and you could smell it in the air. The crew of Marines had become a little bit more nervous since they brought you a new cell companion, an unconscientious pretty orange haired girl. Maybe she would become your key to escape that rat hole of a ship. 

As if your thought had summoned it, you suddenly heard the blast of cannon and the scream of an eminent battle. Your brain working at full speed, you immediately start to search for a way out of that damn cell. Never you will allow yourself to be caught again, neither by the marine ,who’s without no doubt will execute you, nor by those pirates. You didn’t escape the circus or Buggy to come back in this nightmare. You prefer to drown. 

Kicking the door as hard as you can, targeting the rusty corner of the keyhole you abruptly stop when you hear heavy footsteps in the stairs and a face you had hoped never see again. 

“ They finally caught you hm ? “ Zoro nagged you, taking a look at Nami who slowly was regaining consciousness. “ Welcome back, I'll get you out in a minute. I have to decide what we do with your little roommate here. ” 

“ I suggest you let me go and forget my existence. I did what I did because I was in debt with Buggy, go hunt him down instead “ You replied,already knowing that the pirate hunter wasn’t the kind to let you go so easily.

“ I could, or you could win your freedom. Fight me and I'll let you go “ He offered, opening the door, but still blocking you the way. 

—-

Sanji was right behind Zoro, clearing his part of the deck, kicking with all he had. Somewhere between a missing punch from a Marine and a successful attack of this part against a kneecap. He had nodded when his green hair crew member had informed him that he will go downstairs to help Nami. But, he hadn’t come back since and Sanji didn’t like it at all. How many times he will have to save the life of that ungrateful mosshead.

Getting down the stairs, the blond chef never passes the last step. What was in front of him was simply unreal.  

Sanji, though he knew love, had felt love before. But, as you succeed to push Zoro in a full blast, he realizes that he, in fact, never felt it that way. Seeing you still enchained, but still so beautifully strong, trying to defend  yourself as furiously as a tiger, with the only help of the loose chain of your restraints bracelet. Makes him feel as if he receives himself a punch in the guts. From somewhere he could hear the wedding bell and almost see the magnificent cake he will bake for the event.

Maybe a Lemon quatre-quart or a simple sponge vanilla cake with pieces of strawberry in it. Are roses will be too classic or a cascade of fresh tiger lily accros the cake would make it look to bold.

He sadly couldn’t finish his delicious pastry though. When, as in an attempt of escaping what could be a mortal blast, you enter in full collision with his body.  

As you try to get up, your eyes finally meet his. In the most stressful moment of your life, you feel yourself caught in the bluest gaze you've ever seen. And just like that, the idea of love at first sight didn’t seem to you like some literature mirage.   

“ Hello there “ Sanji smiled, laying under you, his head gently resting against a step, letting you free to decide your next move. Sure if you decided to step on him to break free, it would probably permanently break his heart, but if it would save your life, he will accept it gladly. 

“Hi…” You nervously replied, trying, and failing pathetically to not smile with him. 

“ Hey waiter, stay out of that ! The fight isn’t over come back here Y/N “ Zoro groan. 

“ In fact I think we should all get out of here “ Nami declared, as a boom and a big crash came from upstairs.

Finally untangle yourself from the blond man, still on your guard in front of Zoro, but unable to snatch your gaze of Sanji. You nod of the head and proceed to get up the stairs. 

The whole ship was a mess, every Marines on the deck was unconscious, the mainmast was down and as you can see, the only person still standing was a way too joyful young man wearing a straw hat.

“ Hey ! Did you find another crew member !? “ He asked, like if you aren’t still unchained and clearly under the dark gaze of Zoro. 

“ More like a lot of Berries in warrant “ The young swordsman replied. 

“ We can’t collect a warrant while being yourself a pirate Zoro and you had to admit it was a great fight you had. “ Nami contributed, offering you a smile. “ I was mostly unconscious but I heard you had escaped from Buggy, we are different, we could need your help in our crew.”  

“ I will gladly welcome them in the crew if they want to join, “ Sanji answered, smiling at you, a tenderness you hadn’t fully understood in his eyes. “ I can’t wait to cook you your favorite meal.”   

“ Well, I...if Zoro will not kill me in my sleep I guess that I will stick with you for a while. “ You answered, curious to discover the meaning of this strange feeling you felt earlier with the tall blond. And the woman, Nami, seems right. Even in the clown crew, you hadn’t seen nothing like their good chemistry.  

“ Whatever “ The ex-pirate hunter mumbled, clearly not happy but ready to follow ,what you surprisingly guess, is his captain.  

“ Yahoo !  I’m Monkey D. Luffy, we are the straw hat crew and I will be King of the Pirate ! Let’s get back to the ship, those handcuffs would be really uncomfortable ! “

—

Later that night, free of your chain and well fed for the first time in a while, you stay a little longer in the kitchen. 

Sitting at the table, the soft noise of Sanji cooking and the waves crashing against the hull . You absently dried the table knife you were previously cleaning. 

“ Y/N can you try those and tell me which you prefer ?” Sanji gently asked you, putting in front of you two slices of cake. 

A lemon quatre -quart and a vanilla sponge cake with strawberry pieces. 

At first surprise, you gave them a try, not sure of the last time you had cake. 

“ I can’t choose…They are both delicious ! “ You answered, finishing both slices. “ What is it for ?” 

“ Oh it’s for an event I plan for the future…” He simply replied, taking away the empty plates. “When we will be ready”

You didn’t know exactly why, maybe it was his soft smile when he was talking about that mysterious future plan or the gaze he was laying on you. But you couldn’t help yourself to feel your cheeks warming up a little, excited to discover more about that plan and which role you will play in it.

[marysixnumbers]

Tickletober Day 11 - Squeal

Fandom: Arcane

Words: 1,074

"Can you stop that?"

How Vi could make such a noise with a bag that small, Caitlyn didn't know. Pretty much everything they'd brought down to Zaun with them was strewn haphazardly across the floor of their tiny room they'd rented for the night, as Vi reached into the deepest crevices of her travel pack to find something she swore she took with her from prison.

Vi turned around to see Caitlyn sigh and bury her face in the bed's lumpy pillow. "If you don't drive me insane with that racket, you'll definitely disturb our neighbours. Just quieten down for a second, OK?"

"Relax, Cupcake. The rooms here go for basically nothing. No-one comes to this part of Zaun for a good night's sleep." Having failed to locate her trinket, Vi dumped the bag on the floor and began picking up their scattered possessions. "Our "neighbours"" - she flashed air quotes at Caitlyn - "have heard far worse than someone stomping around a room over."

Muffled by the pillow, Vi could hear Caitlyn scoff. "Well, in my house, we were raised to be considerate of strangers. You'd never hear a thing from me when we were guests." She rolled onto her side, pulling the blanket over her, her eyes half-shut as she tried to find a comfortable spot on the sagging mattress.

Vi rolled her eyes. It's likely she would've ignored the Piltoveran's bout of snootiness had she not looked over and saw Caitlyn's foot sticking out from under the blanket.

"I dunno, Cupcake. When people stayed at my place..." Vi's footsteps were nearly silent on the threadbare carpet, honed from years of sneaking around her childhood playmates. "...things usually got pretty rowdy." Reaching the foot of the bed, her knuckles brushed against Caitlyn's bare sole. She wasn't sure if her touch was firm enough to tickle, but she didn't have to worry, judging by the way Caitlyn's eyes instantly sprung open and her foot shot back under the covers.

She must have been grinning like a chem-baron in an alchemist's lab, because Caitlyn sat up and started slowly inching away from the Zaunite. "Vi, wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

Vi didn't know exactly what to expect when she dived onto the bed and swept Caitlyn up into her patented Tickle Hug (good at dealing with squirmy lees, and she had a hunch Caitlyn was one of those), digging her fingers into her upper ribcage, right below her underarms. She did not think Caitlyn would jolt in her arms and squeal so loudly she swore she saw the window frames rattle. Vi didn't even know Caitlyn could make a noise like that, or any of the frankly amazing noises that were flowing out of her now - innumerable tiny squeaks and squeals as Vi poked her ribs, deeper chuckles and snorts as Vi's thumbs rubbed the spot just below her ribcage, messy giggles and hiccups as Vi circled the small of her back, followed by her breaking out into wild, uproarious laughter as Vi's fingers wriggled past her undershirt and scurried over her belly. One of her hands was grabbing at Vi's wrist and shoving at her shoulder, struggling to shove her away, while the other was tightly gripping the pillow in a vain attempt to make this feel any less unbearably ticklish. She was smiling wider and more freely than Vi had ever seen, the gap in her teeth showing unconscientiously, her slim body shaking against Vi's bulkier frame.

"Nahahah- Vihihi, get ohofff- Eeek! Stahahap it, I said I'm soreeEEE- No! Ahahaha, don't! Get off thehere- getofftherenotthereNOTTHERE- AAAAH!"

Vi's finger had slipped into her navel, getting a squeal just as loud as the first - and an equally loud banging on the wall behind them, followed by someone growling in a language Vi didn't understand. She got the gist, though, and reluctantly withdrew her hands from Caitlyn's stomach, now shivering as she took in deep breaths. Caitlyn's face was flushed a shade darker than Vi's hair and strands of her own hair were sticking to her forehead and neck. She blinked a few times, brows furrowing and blush deepening as she took in the gently grinning face of her assailant.

Caitlyn propped herself up on one elbow and gently punched Vi in the shoulder. "You're a monster."

"A tickle monster?" Vi couldn't help saying it, and grinned even more when Caitlyn averted her gaze and started fiddling with hair.

"Whatever. You're horrible." Caitlyn rolled onto her back, and though the light was dim, Vi was sure she could make out a small smile on her face. The thought that Caitlyn might not actually mind this, or even perhaps like it, popped unbidden into Vi's head, and she had to forcibly suppress images of poking Caitlyn's sides in public, or waking her up with gentle underarm tickles, or holding her in her arms and tickling her until all their worries melted away. Of getting to see that beautiful gap-toothed smile, or hear those adorable squeals and giggles, on a daily basis....

Vi smacked herself (on the side that Caitlyn couldn't see, of course). There was no way they could stay together for that long, no way they could reach that point. There was a reason she was down here and it had nothing to do with teasing the woman that lay beside her. She shuffled in place and looked over at the clockface next to her. Perhaps she could fit in a little more. Just while they were here.

"Cupcake?"

"What is it this time?" There was no malice or exasperation in Caitlyn's voice.

"No-one ever tried tickling you when you were staying somewhere?" Vi nudged Caitlyn in the ribs. "You were loud enough back there to keep anyone awake."

"Shut up." Caitlyn giggled, then paused for a moment, licking her lips. "We didn't have many sleepovers when I was young. And even then, I was never... tickled... during one of them."

"So you've never been tickled before?" Vi inched closer to Caitlyn. The other woman squirmed slightly but made no attempt to move away.

"Not since I was very young." Caitlyn turned around to face Vi, that same small smile playing across her lips. "Why do you ask- oh nohohahah!"

As Vi predicted, Caitlyn made enough noise that night to keep the whole building up. Not that either of them minded. After all, no-one comes to this part of Zaun for a good night's sleep.

[thewritersgrave]

Love

She braided daisies in her hair

but she never went anywhere

He talked up shit

and kept his fists pristine, clean

Your first kiss was recorded

We traded carnations in for roses

And just an hour later-

golden as the first green, now jaded from the rain

None of us were ready

Vintage music, electric cars

We might be insane, but it's all okay

'Cause we see it all from the

steps of my front yard

I can hear about all the wars and never have to

leave my room

They read us romantic, tragic elegies

and watched John Hughes film with our parents

Holly said I'd kill for that

and pinned a red letter on her

sweater. A

symbolically scandalous scarlet

shifted into a YA fad

I made loss my new aesthetic

and torture my new talisman

High school was an unconscientious

affair

Drinking from a bottle of half-truths

and dares

But it's only fun until it's real,

a minor fare until we lose

I miss LA, NYC

and I miss 2014

I know "to define is to limit" but

it all means nothing without words

I was so in love with the Yesterdays

I lost sight of my Todays

Holly said she'd kill for this,

now she takes it all back-

Holly would just kill for love

and to feel it now like we did back then

[zaralla1]

Here's a panel from our comic, Twisted Crests!

Frye and Danny are making their rounds through Tirthan. They're about to visit one of Frye's old hideouts, when he reacts to Danny disagreeing with one of his unconscientious business ideas. Also worth noting that as far "gentleness" goes, this is pretty accurate 😅 

[audbod3]

I'm soooo having an Eve Babitz girl summer

In the sense that I'm reading sooo much Eve Babitz, not that I'm as cool as her. I will never be as cool as Eve Babitz (though, if I even possess a fraction of her coolness, I will be content forever.)

Babitz mainly intrigues me because of her multidimensionality (as a person of course, but as an artist as well) and her ability to unapologetically be herself. I'm three books into my Babitz journey (L.A. Woman, Slow Days, Fast Company, and Black Swans) and I have appreciated that she doesn't make attempts to conform to the patriarchal ideal of a "good" writer (think David Foster Wallace.) In Black Swans, she explicitly states her inability to conform to this archetype of the cynical, miserable writer, stating:

"I tried to be depressed about living in a honeysuckle-covered bungalow at the foot of the HOLLYWOOD sign, with tons of arty friends and lovers for glamour and excitement. But I kept forgetting that I was supposed to be miserable, kicked around, and bored. As long as I could go bodysurfing in Santa Monica and get tan enough to attract adorable men, I was to distracted and world-weary and spiritually bereft." (Black Swans pg. 84)

While some might read this and characterize Babitz as an out-of-touch, unconscientious hedonist (a characterization that isn't entirely incorrect), I take a more generous approach, understanding that Babitz was a woman in love with life -- not just LA or her string of male partners, or even the world around her. She was in love with the act of living itself, and I find that aspirational. She certainly had many opportunities to become jaded and cynical -- how could you not if you were critically aware LA's superficiality, or if you'd lost multiple friends to AIDS or drug overdoses? I think that the ability to resist weathering from life's experiences entirely is an act of resistance in itself, and Babitz had mastered that form of resistance.

Furthermore, I would like to emphasize the importance of reading Babitz as a writer -- particularly if you are interested in writing pieces set in 60s-80s Southern California. For myself, this was the primary merit of her fiction work (which, might I add, is hardly fiction. Babitz is queen of the self-insert.) I found that reading Babitz' fiction feels as a collection of clips from a movie -- or rather, multiple movies with a common theme. I wouldn't necessarily say she is excellent at building a plot or completing a narrative, but she is a prominent stylist and her fiction provides important insight into the character of LA and the world during the 60s and 70s.

[goldnhalos]

𝕀ℕ𝕋ℝ𝕆𝔻𝕌ℂ𝕀ℕ𝔾: 𝕊𝔸ℕ𝕋𝕀 𝔽𝕃𝕆ℝ𝔼𝕊.

hello everyone ! my name's fox, (she/they, 25, brt.) and i'm so excited to be here ! i haven't joined a group in... i want to say like a year and a half ? maybe two ? so pls be patient with me while i get my grind back lmao. this is santi, he's a mix and match of some old characters i have, i hope u all enjoy him ! i'll be posting a plotting call on the discord server soon but if you wanna hmu there and start plotting already, my handle is aslutforpainandsuffering

* ◟ : 〔 pedro pascal, cis man + he/him 〕 santiago flores , some say you’re a forty-five year old lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both gentle and guarded, one can’t help but think of riders on the storm by the doors when you walk by. are you still an active assassin for red eye, even with your reputation as the arcane? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and bruised knuckles. a pile of unread letters thrown across the floor. a broken whiskey bottle, although we can’t help but think of oliver marks ( if we were villains ) + matthew prior ( gallant ) + jackson healy ( the nice guys ) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

tw: violence ; torture ; suicide ; drug / alcohol abuse ;

. * basics !

full name: santiago flores.

known as: santi ; mr. flores.

age + birthday: forty-five ; july 10th.

birthplace: unknown.

gender + pronouns: cis male ; he/him.

sexuality: bisexual.

occupation: assassin.

fc: pedro pascal.

spoken languages: english ; spanish.

tropes: bad liar, trauma conga line, unconscientious objector, butt-monkey.

phisical atributes: 5 ft 11" (1.80m); lean built ; no tattos ; several scars ; scraggily beard.

. * early days !

the only memory santiago has of his family is os his siblings running through a green pasture; he can remember the soft feeling of his mother's lap underneath his cheek, and the way her fingers ran through his hair. the sound of little children laughing haunts his dreams, but there's not a single face in sight. the people in his memory are nothing but blurred sillouettes, ghosts of people he once knew, of the child he once was. the orphanage, though, of that his memories are crystal clear: the beating, the fear, the hope that somebody would come and rescue him, and then the subsequently disapointment once he grew old enough to understand that nobody would. and then, nanuvut. the cold was somehow worse than the beatings, worse than the physical training that took and took and took from him until santi was nothing but a shell of the smiley kid he'd once been. killing is all that he knows, but santiago has never been at peace with it. he's familiar with death, has given it his entire life and soul, but it has never been something he enjoyed, something he got used to it. despite all the training, his handlers have never been able to supress his kind soul and gentle ways— nature vs. nurture, santiago being the living proof that there are some things nothing can ever truly change. all he wants is some peace and quiet, a life away from all of the decay and violence; a herb garden far away from the city, a sunlit kitchen and a big library to ruffle through. his dreams of tranquility have yet to come: when all you know is the underbelly of chaos, the rotten people and monsters, no other place feels like home.

. * recent years !

santiago tried leaving; at twenty-three, he tried to hang up his guns and become a regular, law-abiding citizen. and he didsurprisingly well. santiago went as far as graduating college, a major in psychology, and those were the best four years of his life. he partied, and he fell in love, and for the first time since he could remember, santi felt truly free. like he could finally be himself, like the blood on his hands had finally washed away. he settled down, and married a nice girl. his dreams of a suburbia life iwth white picket fences and a big slobbering dog were so close to become a reality he could barely believe it. a month after his marriage, another operative showed up. the operative -- probably a mercenary, santiago figured -- destroyed his home, tied his doe-eyed wife to a chair and ripped every single one of her nail before he got home from work. the message was clear: he was to return willingly to the red eye and fufill his purpose, or they would force his hand and the punishments for it would be devastating. his wife survived, but the trauma was too much. it ruined their marriage faster than anything else ever could, and santiago saw no other option but to return to his handlers with his tail between his legs. the corporeal punishments and risky missions were nothing compared to the feeling of falure, and santiago found solace in drowning himself in liquor, white lines and all sorts of chemicals that he could get his hands on. it started to affect his job, and santiago got slippery. more than once, the organization had to step in to prevent him from going to jail. considering his large death toll, santiago was giving a single chance: if he didn't get his act cleaned up, he could be terminated. as it turned out, santiago's destructive behavior was meant as self-sabotage, not as suicidal tendencies, and his self-preservation instincts took over. after a hellish period of going in and out of rehab, santiago has been somewhat clean; he hasn't exactly dropped the alcohol, though his black outs have stopped getting in the way of his work, and he's gone cold turkey on any narcotics. a functioning alcoholic, a friend called him once. it was good enough for the red eye, in the end.

. * wanted connections !

a best friend ; the only person in the world that santi trusts. he's not one to give himself lighty, but this person has proven time and time again that they're his ride or die. ( 0 / 1 )

an old friend ; someone that was in the orphanage with him. maybe they get along, maybe they hate each other, this dynamic can be played in any sort of way. ( 0 / ?? )

friends of all kinds ; santiago can be kind of closed off, but as it turns out he can be quite friendly once you push through that, so he probably gets along with this person pretty well. ( 0 / ?? )

an ex ; ever since his marriage, santi has big issues with commitment. in his life of work, he knows having a partner is a weaklink, something people can use against you. they cared for each other deeply, but once things got started to get serious, santiago jumped ship, probably in the worst way possible. ( 0 / 1 )

a protegé ; there's something about this person that just makes santiago's instincts bubble up. it's someone he'd kill and die to protect, and has been working on teaching them as many of his own skills as he possibly can. bonus points if this is someone that can handle their own better than he ever could, but he insists that they need help anyways. ( 0 / 1 )

the enemy ; santiago has made many enemies along the way ; he's quite blunt, and despite not enjoying violence, he does resort to it whenever needed. they've probably come blow to blow at some point before, and it doesn't get better. ( 0 / 1 )

the bad influence ; santiago's a very strict, logical person. he doesn't do things on whims, and certainly doesn't partake in reckless behavior very often. this is someone with whom santi's first instinct is to be “well, what the hell!” and he’ll do things he normally wouldn’t, be that go to a rave late at night, do the hard drugs he's supposedly given up years ago or just eat that greasy bacon cheeseburger that might give him a heart attack. ( 0 / 1 )

the protective friend ; there’s nothing santiago doest best than taking care of people. in return, no one really takes care of him. except for this person, who’s there for him when he breaks down, who would go head first into a bar fight to watch his six and just doesn’t fuck around when it comes to calling santiago out on his bullshit. ( 0 / 1 )

[robyn-goodfellowe]

crystallographically outburst tarpaulin nonrepresentational undreamed unconscientiousness A keratoconjunctivitis hello chromoblastomycosis compartmentalisation electrocardiographic kaleidoscopical countertransference uncut peach bacteriochlorophyll extracurricular foreshadowing Robyn noninstitutionalised fishwife patricide revitalization optimal

[sombredancer]

Swooning over a secondary character (again), Pt. 2/3

The evil vice-prime minister promised Moo-yeon (aka Yoon Sok-ha) that he can be relieved from his servitude and safely reunite with his sister if he fulfills the last and the most difficult task: to kills the Crown Prince. But Moo-yeon failed to do it during the organized by Kim Cha-eon attack and is forced now to finish this task by his own means.

Eventually, Moo-yeon finds the prince amnesiac and, moreover, wedded to Moo-yeon's sister, who happened to hide all this time in a nearby village as a peasant.

His sister seem to genuinely like the amnesiac prince, so, after some moral sufferings, Moo-yeon dares to deceive Kim Cha-eon making him believe the Crown Prince is dead. And then he gets his long-longed freedom.

And he could live freely and happily ever after with his sister (and her husband) if not for one thing.

Namely: he has an affair with the Crown Princess (the Crown Prince's wife and also Kim Cha-eon's daughter, whom he threated with the blade as he was a kid). Going out of Kim Cha-eon's mansion, Moo-yeon accidentally hears that his lover is pregnant, so he also decides to bid farewell to her before finding his sister and disappearing with her for good.

His lover, Kim So-Hye, is a very miserable woman, too. Her father used her from her childhood on to reach his political goals and arranged her marriage with the Crown Prince who hated her from the bottom of his heart as a daughter of the murderer of his childhood love Yoon Yi-seo (which is VERY ironic). She was very lonely in the palace so she couldn`t stand her lover leaving her, too, and hired one of father's assassins to hurt Moo-yeon and make him stay (even if only for the time of his recovering).

The Crown Prince never ever got laid with his wife, so she is obviously pregnant by someone else and Kim Cha-eon tried to kill the prince in order to cover for his daughter (because adultery of the princess should be punished by death of the whole cheater's family). He told her to kill the biological father of her child by herself in order to eliminate the witness, believing it was one of a noblemen of the palace. Later he learned she killed a son of an official and felt relieved. But the situation over Moo-yeon being shot in order to prevent him from leaving makes Kim Cha-eon rethink the adultery of his daughter. And from now on he starts being suspicious of Moo-yeon.

Meanwhile, there are rumors spreading that the Crown Prince is alive and it forces severely wounded Moo-yeon to try to make him disappear for good (because if Kim Cha-eon learns that Moo-yeon lied to him, the little liar won`t be able to escape and reunite with his sister). But he predictably fails and stays lying on the ground, unconscientious and bleeding.

Fortunately, he has good subordinates who find him and bring him back. The Crown Princess is very anxious, she never wanted to hurt him so seriously, so she takes a good care for him.

But the situation over the Crown Prince's fake death becomes more and more dangerous, Moo-yeon‘s life and freedom as well as his sister's is hung by a thread, so his subordinates help him to run away.

He sends back to his lover a bracelet she once gifted him and bids his farewell to her, planning to start a new life with his sister far away from Jeoson. Unlike the Crown Prince, who hated Kim So-hye for who her father is, Moo-yeon is in love with her even despite her being a daughter of his father's murderer. But he understands that their relationship is doomed as far as she is a nobility and (an unloved, but still) Crown Prince's wife and he is a mere slave of her father, unable to protect even himself. So he thinks it`ll be better for them to just forget each other. (And he is so goddamn right! But love is love. *sighs*)

[insomniac-poetry]

The Musings of an Insomniac

I go to war every night to battle these sleepless nights,

The time is ticking on my doomsday clock.

I wake from my daydreaming with nothing but the stalemate,

Between my subconsience and unconscientiousness. 

My pride neglects to swallow the midnight pill,

Which lays reflected against the half-empty glass.

So now I lie restless in the bed I never made,

As the sheets crinkle against my moving thoughts.

[mariniacipher]

god, tom is so strange but i love these chapters so much-

especially the fact that during the story telling no time passes, until he is tired and the day is suddenly at its end?

it’s such a small thing but entirely lovely and really shows that like… he is strange and powerful and entirely unconscientious about it

add to that the fact that the ring has no power over him and i am entirely intrigued

[notknickers]

a tentaflora peacefully sleeps in its void

a first draft lost its way while on a very important task

its intended beta reader will never know what befell it

a vector tries to sneak up on the sleeping tentaflora

its too-crisp pixels made it ill-suited to camouflage

a slide thinks itself smooth

it slipped right into the tentaflora's expectant maw

a monthly budget strolls by uncharacteristically unconscientiously

overindulgence is back in style

the tentaflora is sated and content, now

it falls back into its dreamless slumber

[kunosoura]

my ranking of the crown of stars PoVs (I'm into the last quarter of book 4):

top tier:

Hanna. Best most loyal friend ever. In a series full of bitches with hangups about their births, their families, and their legacies, she's the commoner daughter of an innkeeper here to do her job without bitching or moaning or getting unjustifiably maudlin about hardship. Dare I say best girl

high tier:

Liath. I like the tension between how everyone else sees her which is "wicked sorceress whose name is a curse" and her own internal narrative which is "woman who has not gotten a break since her 16th birthday." I've genuinely found her story about recovering from trauma and reclaiming her life from her abuser very compelling even if book 1 could get terribly difficult to listen to because of it.

Alain. Yeah he's kind of the world's most average guy in his thought process, maybe kinder and more open minded than average, but that plays well when he's routinely getting put in the weirdest situations imaginable.

mid tier:

Zacharias. He's got a unique outlook and I find his drive to examine the fantastic world around him critically very interesting as well as the very human shortcomings he possesses, but it just hasn't fully manifested into a compelling arc yet. Kansi-a-lari ditched him and he hasn't had an interesting chapter since.

Strongarm. I dunno man it's cool to see the stone children's culture through his point of view but his chapters are so emotionally dry and their pace has been glacial.

Anna. Sort of like Zacharias, her character arc just hasn't quite crystallized into something really compelling yet.

low tier:

Rosvita. Frustrating because at times she's a scholar who feels drawn to the occult, who wants to puzzle out the mysteries she encounters, while at (most) other times she's a scholar stuck with the boring-to-read work of travelling with the court and writing a history.

Sanglant. Brother I get you have abandonment issues but it seems like that's all you can think about some days. Like you saw your wife get raptured! she didn't leave you and you know it! consider perhaps that someone who last appeared to you as a frantic spirit may perhaps be dealing with some shit right now! and who names a baby Blessing???

trash tier:

Ivar. repressor bisexual who's too stuck up on a girl who admitted she couldn't love him back and only ever considered eloping if it offered her safety to appreciate the fact that the guy everyone agrees is the pretties boy in the land loves you and is dtf nightly... stumbling unconscientiously through a burgenoning heretical movement kicked off by an insane woman... kys my man

[inaworldsofulloflove]

And I apologize,

To all the plants I have neglected and killed,

Over the years.

I have been an unconscientious gardener in the past.

But no more.

[throwingideasatthewall2]

Dialogue wheel options bad, dialogue wheel options bad representation choosing choices, choices skewed to favor the Alliance military, Anderson, Hackett, and as a consequence immoral amoral unconscientious writing dialogue.

[dichotomy-of-the-day]

Everything in reality is either conscientious or unconscientious.