#╰ *: † ❛ it was like they were two sides of the same coin and they never let anyone forget that. ❪ quinntana. ❫

[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Five

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

warnings: 18+, suggestive stuff, mad max, references to abuse (nothing explicit)

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four

Mad Max. A name that hadn't been used in a good long while. Last season he hadn't needed to be Mad Max, not when he was the only one winning. 

It was a fitting nickname, sometimes. That was what Charles realised as he sat beside him. On top of the bed covers, his ass positively sore. It wasn't Max he'd just had sex with. No, it was Mad Max. 

He'd slept with Mad Max before, just a few times. But those times hadn't been because Max was mad. It was after he had moved himself and his cats to Monaco, when the full moon was near and he needed to stuff his cock in something. That something, more often than not, was Charles. 

His neck ached as he reached up, touching the bitemarks Max had left behind. "Sorry," Max muttered as he grabbed a cold can of drink from the mini fridge. "At least they've stopped bleeding." 

Charles released a dry laugh from his lips. "Who knew one practice would have you so riled up," he said and laid back. He stared at the ceiling, a smile crossing his face. 

He knew exactly why that practice had Mad Max showing his face. Every time he set the fastest lap, the fastest lap was taken from him. FP1 wasn't supposed to be for going fast, but Max couldn't stop himself from racing her. And she couldn't help but race him back. Even with Max in a superior car, she raced him. 

In FP2, it was the same story. 

"She's incredible," Charles said, still holding the can against his neck. He wouldn't drink whatever was inside, just use it to sooth the wounds that Max created. Wounds Max wanted him to wear with pride, wounds he couldn't bring himself to wear. 

"Incredible?" Max scoffed. He shook his head, his hair falling in front of his eyes. "Not the words I'd use. 

Charles sat up and let the can fall into his lap. "What words then, Max? How would you describe Birdy?" 

Max didn't mean to recoil. "You've given her a name? Fuck, Charles, you really are planning on keeping this one, aren't you?" 

"Answer the question, Max." 

He let a scowl overtake his features. "You wanna know? Fine, Charles. I'll fucking tell you!" He kicked his suitcase, flipping it over and emptying it of his clothes. "She's dangerous and viscous and she's gonna be the reason you don't get into the car!"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" 

Suddenly Charles was on his feet, too. It was going to go one of two ways, always did with Mad Max. Either Charles was going to be back on the bed, letting Max take out his aggression, or he was going to let out of there, let Max stew in his anger. 

If it wasn't about Birdy, that sweet sweet girl, Charles would have been on his hands and knees, face pushed into the pillow. 

But it was about Birdy. 

Grabbing his things from the floor, Charles marched out of the hotel room. Max didn't know what he was saying, especially not about his Birdy. His Birdy, because nobody knew what they were saying, not when it came to her. 

Even as he walked down the hall, barely dressed, the bite marks in his shoulder throbbing, he could hear Max. No doubt destroying the room, tearing it up. Mad Max. It was no full moon; it was pure anger. His usual outlet, winning races and being the fastest person alive, wasn't hitting it anymore. Because he wasn't the fastest person alive, and he fucking hated it. 

Charles couldn't help but sigh as he walked into his room. This wasn't his Max, the one he had molded. Max, who was usually the kindest man in the room. That kindness born from a childhood full of abuse. 

Just like Birdy, Charles thought. Max and Birdy, matching sides of two coins. And Charles was the other side of both those coins. She could be just as sweet as Max, he knew. She just needed a chance. 

Charles wasn't speaking to him. Max watched him, watched from the Red Bull garage as Charles walked past him. Normally he was the last person there, first to leave. But he had gotten there early, just for a chance to speak to Charles. 

But Charles wouldn't speak to him. 

Eventually, Max gave up waiting for Charles to catch his eye, to come and speak to them. All he wanted was to make up for his mistakes, all he wanted was that chance. A chance Charles wasn't giving him. 

He strode across the Red Bull garage, making his way to the Ferrari garage. "Charles," he called, and the Il Predestinato looked at him. He stepped closer and not close enough all that once. Close enough to keep it casual, too far away to show how he really felt. 

"Charles, I want to apologise for last night," he said, trying to keep himself quiet, keep the words just between them. 

Charles hadn't yet looked at him. He didn't turned towards Max when he spoke, didn't pay him any attention. Max's jaw twitched, but he didn't let it show on his face. "I was out of line, I know, and-" 

"It's not me you need to apologise to." 

Max stilled. Not me you need to apologise to. "Charlie, you can't be serious," Max whispered as he reached out to grab his arm. But Charles stepped out of reach. He looked past Max, looked across the garage. 

Max looked too. 

Birdy. That was the name Charles had given you. Beast was the name given to you by the rest of the motorsport world, the name Max knew you by. And you were a beast,  vicious beast who had gone to attack Charles. You were dangerous, and you had made that perfectly clear. 

Max steadied himself. He sucked in a breath and strode across the garage. 

It was hard to see the sweetness that Charles saw in you, not with the muzzle covering your mouth and the shock collar around your neck. You hadn't noticed him yet, head bowed as your muzzle was taken off and your balaclava was given to you.

When your handler told you to put it on, you did so. Your helmet came next, acting as a replacement for the muzzle. You fastened it under your chin, head tipping back slightly. 

And then you locked eyes with him. 

Max Verstappen. Current World Champion, lead in this year's championship. He stood before you, looking awkward and uncomfortable all at once. You couldn't help but match his pose, looking just as awkward and uncomfortable. Your helmet managed to hide your expression, though. 

"Hello," Max said, trying to get a look at your reaction. It was near impossible to get a read on you though, not with the helmet on. He looked back at Charles, watching the both of you. 

He cleared his throat, attention back on you. You hadn't looked away from him. "Look," he began, his hands dropping. "I'm sorry for..." But what was he sorry for? For thinking that you were dangerous? That was the truth, wasn't it? You were dangerous. 

"Okay, here's the thing. Charles is mad at me, so can we just pretend that we've had this big talk and I apologised for stuff?" 

The way he looked at you, expecting something. You blinked at him. If he wanted to apologise, he could go ahead and do so. But this wasn't much of an apology. 

"Come on, Beast-"

"Birdy." 

It had surprised even you. The word left your lips so suddenly, your brows furrowing beneath your helmet. You didn't want to be a beast, not anymore. 

Max stared at you, his blue eyes blown wide. "W-what?" He looked around, looking to see if anybody else had heard it. But everyone around the two of you was much too preoccupied with whatever they were doing. "Say it again, go on," he tried, but your lips were sealed. 

Speaking out of turn. 

Speaking out of turn.

Bad little wolves get punished of speaking out of turn. 

You stumbled back, trying to get away from him. "Wait," he called, but you were gone, disappearing further into the garage. 

Max desperately looked around for someone else that had heard you. But nobody else had. Birdy. The name Charles had given you. The fear had been so evident in your eyes the moment the name left your lips, he couldn't help the sadness that shot through him.

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[taeggukxiie]

Hi I need to ramble about dabihawks again because what do you mean horikoshi created the perfect characters for the "two sides of the same coin" plot but never used it? What do you mean he created two characters that could've been heros together or villains together but chose the universe where they're apart? What do you mean he created two characters that could've understood each other so deeply but never made them share their worries together? Never make them talk seriously? Never make them realize that they could've helped each other?

Yes dabihawks is toxic but you wanna know why? (Partly) because toxicity is the only thing they've ever known. Their family, their growing up environment, the people they interacted with, their ideals, their opinions, the society: everything in their lives is toxic. So of course it's hard for them to be healthy for each other since they can't even be healthy for themselves.

However, even if a lot of people are saying that they represent the "we make each other worse" trope, I don't really agree (although I respect every opinions don't get me wrong). I feel like if they talked seriously they could've created something new. Both relating on how shitty their fathers were, on the abuse, on the society's marginalization they went through (because yes, Hawks is marginalized and not integrated, try me). Both talked about their dreams of becoming heroes but failing because touya became a villain and keigo became a soldier. Both relating on how difficult it is to express emotions when you lived all your life with people wanting to dictate your every moves and dreams (the commission forcing hawks to exist as they want while endeavor forcing his dream on dabi, but the reverse is also true). They lost trust in everything but could've helped each other to trust again.

They could've been the anchor for each other if horikoshi actually didn't throw their potential away (love you hori but you fucked up on that one). They could've help each other because even though dabi is obssessive he would've listen to someone who when through the same atrocities as him, just like the only people he was able to bound with were the League.

They could've help each other because hawks would've realise that his true will as a hero is not to follow the HSPC but save little children that just wanted to be accepted. Dabi could've help Hawks to get away from the commission while Hawks would've help dabi reconsider his revenge on his family (not endeavor though, but the rest of his family). Dabi would've understand that great heros are doing what they can, but in the current society it's just not enough. And they both would've understand that bad people don't fester the society, the society fester the people.

They could've been the comfort place they were both seeking. They could've understand each other. They might even have brought keigo and touya back.

What a waste.

[rootspiral]

hi, hello!! i absolutely adore your deep dive series into the aaa episodes, and i was wondering if you could/would feel like expanding further into agatha’s guilt towards wanda and all the emotion she shows in the first episode, when she sees wanda’s corpse? the way agnes seems to value human life is especially interesting to me, considering how much agatha has killed (and i understand agnes is a character in what’s supposed to be a very stereotypical detective series, but i remember how you said agnes is in some ways agatha at her most transparent). anyways, i thought i’d try to pick your brain a little more on the subject, because your takes are very interesting to me!

Hi hello to you, thank you for stopping by! And also thank you for your interesting question, consider my brain officially picked. I'm gonna ramble QUITE a bit because I want to talk about Agatha and misogyny first (as requested by @leoleolovesdc ) but hold in there, I'll get to wanda too.

To get to the point directly, I think that Agatha's actions are steeped in internalized misogyny, and I think it's something she inherited from her mother and the salemites. It's actually pretty common for marginalized communities or individuals to turn against their own and replicate the patterns of the oppressor, looking to ease their self-hatred or for outside acceptance or a sense of control. Think for example about super conservative wives voting against their best interests, think about all the homophobia and biphobia and transphobia and acephobia (etcetera etcetera ad infinitum) in the queer community.

The persecution of witches was essentially a war on a kind of womanhood that went against imposed gender norms. Witches (in the marvel universe and in real life) were more often than not women who lived independently, who knew herbs, who didn't marry, who worked as midwives etc. And talking about the salemites specifically and the way they treated Agatha: they did to Agatha what the external world did to them, they replicated a pattern. They targeted the odd one out, the woman in their group who was the most different, and called her evil and essentially tried to burn her at the stake.

We don't know a thing about evanora, but I would BET that a lot of her hatred stems from her own internalized misogyny / agatha being born female, and I honestly wonder if Agatha would have found it harder to love a daughter the same way she does Nicky or Billy, without any of her internalized bias kicking in. Since she was a kid Agatha had been hurt and persecuted by other witches, she's pretty much wired to mistrust and hate them. And it gets even more muddled and complicated because she hates witches but loves witchcraft, she hates women but is sexually and romantically attracted to them. She yearns to belong, but she ends up torturing and killing her own community. She allies with people like that disgusting prick who violated Jen.

Enter Wanda, who is essentially Agatha 2.0: she was born doomed by the narrative or, to say it like evanora, she was born evil. Evanora would have had a FIELD DAY with Wanda. The Scarlet Witch? The destroyer of universes? She would have tried to kill her on the spot. There is A LOT Agatha instinctively hates in Wanda, she's a woman, she's a witch, she's dangerous. Agatha does what the salemites did to her and what men did to witches: she replicates a pattern. She punishes Wanda for being too alone and too different and complicated and scary. And yes Agatha is doing it to get her hands on chaos magic and all that comes with that, but this is all the baggage she brings in.

There's the other side of the coin: Agatha hates women and witches, Agatha loves women and witches, and Agatha hates and loves Wanda. She's been essentially killing and running away for the past two centuries, refusing to dwell on the consequences of her actions, but we know that she is no unfeeling psychopath, that's just a role she plays. We know all her actions weigh on her. With Wanda that sense of guilt is even stronger because Wanda is not a random witch she kills and abandons in the woods, she has to live with her and witness all of Wanda's pain up close, how lonely she is, how scared she is, the grief of losing Pietro and Vision, it's all there to torment Agatha. She cannot be a child about it, she can't close her eyes and cover her ears and go lalala until it's over, she has to take it all in order to get what she wants. And what's worse, Wanda is so similar to her that Agatha can picture exactly what she's feeling down to her bones, that's empathy to the max. And she goes through with her plan and does horrible things to Wanda anyway.

Knowing Agatha like we know her now, I'm convinced that her guilt about Wanda is especially hard to deal with, but Agatha has always refused to deal with any of her inner struggles, so Wanda just goes on the pile together with all the painful and complicated feelings she's pointedly ignoring, and which are not haunting her at all, thank you very much!

Except when she's Agnes, because all the feeling are still there but she doesn't know where they come from. I'd say that more than transparent Agnes is unfiltered, she doesn't know she should censor her struggles like Agatha does. Based on Agnes, we can plainly see what the biggest issues on her Inner Pile of Shit and Sorrow are: grief over Nicky's loss, anger and yearning for Rio, extreme loneliness, and guilt over those she hurt, with a particular emphasis on Wanda.

[seancekitsch]

The Sword and the Quill: Chapter Six

Pairing: Gwayne Hightower x Reader

In the weeks leading up to little Daeron's departure to Oldtown, Queen Alicent finds herself trying to entertain the unmarried ladies of court. As one of her ladies in waiting, you agree to an anonymous penpal in one of the men at court, and end up spilling your heart to him. He is your perfect match, your equal. The only issue? The Queen's brother Gwayne Hightower will not stop teasing you as you try to uncover who responds to your letters.

****tw/ this chapter only for an attempted mugging ****

Dearest Y/N,

I apologize for any harm or shame I’ve caused you. I know that as you were corresponding with these letters, you most likely did not want it to be me. I admit, a part of me did not want it to be you. But that is not the truth of the matter, and the entire time we were communicating with each other. Without being presumptuous, we fell for each other. Even without knowing that you were the one with the pen, I picked those flowers for your Love and Beauty crown with you in mind. Searching for my writer was not at the front of my mind when your smile graced a room. Now, I understand very much that you and I have differing opinions on where to go from here. 

I would still wish to court you, as your words have moved me and while yes I have mocked you I never mocked your looks. I was never joking when I called you pretty. 

I feel like you would rather not have me. Which, I will respect. If it would please you, I will go back to Oldtown early, as to not cause more unneeded harm to you. I do not wish for you to leave my sister because of my presence. She and the children clearly need and love you. 

I have said many things over the ages, but especially the past few months that I wish I could take back. Even more, there are words I haven’t said yet wish I had.

Unfortunately yours, 

Gwayne Hightower

So he does not hide his name anymore, or yours? Has he not thought of the implications of that? What people could assume might have transpired between the two of you if these were to be found? Love and beauty, the coin with the naked woman on it, these letters, the dance you shared; it is all too much. Evidence of a love affair that has not happened. These letters would shame you, you think. Enough to ruin any marriage prospect, enough to tear you from pious Alicent’s side. What would she think if rumors of an illicit affair out of wedlock with her brother of all people surfaced? You do not even consider the fact that these rumors would be completely untrue. People talk, and hearsay is often more powerful than the truth. There is probably already talk of a bastard Flowers in your belly.

And for a moment, you consider burning the parchment in the flame of the candle before you. Instead you place it to the side, the ring on your pinky clinking against the pewter cup to sip your beer. You sip long and hard on the beer, watching the amber liquid swish in the bottom of the cup as you gulp. The castle had felt all too stuffy and uncomfortable tonight, the same as it had felt every night since the feast. 

You have spent the last week embroidering and dining with Alicent, walking her children to and from their lessons, and walking Maegor’s tunnels the moment the little royals were put to bed. Each night, you come to this tavern with the letter, and each night you agonize on how- or if- to respond. Tonight you are determined to respond, to have some way to save dignity or appearance in this. Often Helaena was the child that gave you odd riddles, but tonight it was little Aemond.

“Did you know that some of these walls are hollow?” he had asked you, and you had to wonder if he knew about the tunnels from a history book, or if the six year old was warning you. You decided not to take it as a warning, and told the little prince that the walls were stone and stone could not be hollow. 

Your ring glitters in the candle light as you sit there and with your own blank parchment and your quill. The barkeep keeps the beer flowing and you think of what to write. You drink and read and drink and read. You place your pewter down as your eyes scan the letter again. 

What he has written vexes you, angers you, saddens you. You aren’t exactly sure if his leave would grant you peace, as you know it would discontent Alicent and take Daeron from you. And what of you? To say that his presence is an issue is just as equal to his absence being an issue. Part of you wants to believe him, as it did feel nice to be in his arms; it felt nice when barbs were traded for more gentle jokes. 

But even so, this is Gwayne Hightower. This is a man who has so often worked to make you look and sound like a fool; a man who has said horribly nasty things without caring that you were near, begets pleasure from making your temper rise. Surely, this is just another joke of his. 

A well thought out, time consuming joke at your expense. Another embarrassment at his hand. To write these letters, to make the crown of flowers, to dance with you; it is all to fuel the rumor mill of court, one he understands well and understands the consequences within. It is a farce to make you look like some simpering maiden following around a knight, to make Alicent’s closest companion seem capable of scandal. 

And surely, scandal is already spreading after you all but took flight from the feast. Certainly, he has made you a topic of discussion. 

With a hand raised for another round, you finally know what to write to him. 

You use the flame from the little candle upon the table to heat the wax before you seal your parchment. There is no need or use to disguise your parchment anymore, you think, now that he and you are unmasked. You settle up with the barkeep as it hardens, a sad smile on your face after you drain the pewter cup for the last time this evening and press the silver coins into his hand. You press your finger to the wax, testing its seal, before pulling the cloak up around you again and going back out into the night.

Your feet are unsteady under you as you travel the alley ways back towards the keep. Just three city blocks from here is a small door which looks like an average cellar, which in truth conceals one of the entrances to Maegor’s tunnels. This is a path you know well, a path you have trod every night this week alone. Your parchment clutched in hand, you tipsily make your way back so that you may collapse into bed for another dreamless sleep. Your boots clack against cobblestone, echoing as the wind blows at your cloak. The parchment in your hand flutters and flaps like a bird against the cage of your hand. 

You turn a corner, and another corner, the alleys crowded with patrons of taverns and pleasure houses and dance halls raucous and crying and cheering in the night. It seems, you think to yourself, that despite all of the jewels and privilege of your station that the common people seem to have more fun. At least, they have since Viserys’ coronation. You’d heard from your Lord Father of the strife that had taken Prince Aemon and how it had been ended many times. Viserys inherited peace from his father’s bravery. Alicent though, had never met Viserys’ father. As a child, Otto had her read stories to old and dying King Jahaerys, and then her father had her comfort Viserys similarly when Queen Aemma died. Perhaps more royals live their life in servitude than one would think, you ponder, your eyes feeling wet with sympathy for your friend. 

“Oh, excuse me,” you mumble as your shoulder accidentally clips someone’s arm, and you turn a corner. 

You turn another corner, more wobbly now than before as the warmth from the beer settles into your bones. Maybe, tipsy optimism tells you, everything will be okay if you can just get back to your bed without stumbling too hard. Maybe somehow the Gwayne problem as you have been calling it would go away if you could just get back to your warm and soft bed. He could just stop being himself or stop tormenting you somehow? Some sorcery or potion could be invented to stop tongues from wagging? Silly thoughts, really. No use in continuing them. You stumble over the toe of your boot as you put the thoughts to rest. The cobblestones seem to come up to meet your feet as your boots push you forward, the worn leather of them no longer shiny in the streetlamp lights from years of use.

“A Lady shouldn’t walk out here alone,” a man’s voice calls to you, and you pull your cloak closer to yourself. You figure if you ignore the voice and keep walking you can put enough space between yourself and the man. This is, admittedly, not the safest part of town. The nearby pleasure houses attract terrible men, but the hired guards positioned at the entrances tend to watch out for women on the street. There is a letter opener in your bag, so you are not exactly unarmed, but you would rather reach the nearest entrance to Maegor’s tunnels without having to use it. You move a little faster, now eager to reach the next corner to turn.

“Did you hear me, M’lady?” The voice calls again, and your blood runs cold. How did he know? Footsteps pick up behind you, and you pick up your pace to try to out walk him. If you can make it to the next street, certainly he wouldn’t try to grab you with so many witnesses.

You reach just a few mere meters from the opening of the alleyway before hands grasp at your arms. Defensively, you put your forearms up over your chest, clutching the letter tight and wrinkling the parchment.

“Been followin’ you,” Rancid breath wafts over your face, “No common whore wears rings like that.”

Fuck. Now you finally remember. Before leaving your chambers, you always remove all jewelry. You always put on your plainest clothes. A simple garnet on your pinky finger has given you away. Fear courses through your bloodstream, but so does a steady mourning. This too now, you can never have again. 

“All this trouble for a ring?” you ask, beer making you bolder. Anger, sadness, fear, all rolled into one as you hold your defensive stance. If only you can reach into your bag for the letter opener. 

“All this trouble for whatever else you’ve got,” He sneers, and something in you tells you now is the time to fight. You kick your leg back, boot connecting with what you think is his knee as you wriggle out of his grasp, tearing your cloak and knocking yourself down to the ground in the process. You gasp as your knees land hard on the stones, trying your hardest not to cry out in pain. The man recovers a lot quicker than you expected, stumbling back to his feet and muttering curses at you. You hold your hands up weakly, as if the crumpled letter in your hand is a shield. 

“Bitch! I should cut off your finger for that,” he tells you, and a dagger now glitters just as brightly as your garnet. 

But no blade makes contact with your skin. Instead, you look up to see the man grabbed by the collar by none other than Gwayne Hightower. He, too, is dressed much more civilian than you are used to seeing. He wears a simple brown cloak and tunic. Only, his boots are fancy thick riding boots. Gwayne slams the man against the wall of the alley, a sickening crack as the back of his head hits stone.

“Do not touch her again!” Gwayne more or less roars, anger you have never seen before radiating from him. You scramble to stand as he presses the man further, his free hand now resting on his sword.

“I should have your hands for this,” Gwayne bares his teeth, animalistic in his rage towards the man, and the man seems well and terrified. 

“No trouble,” the man chokes out under the hand on his throat, “I’ll be no trouble.”

It’s only then that Gwayne relents and releases the man.

“Be gone, and do not ever let me see you again,” he warns, and the man gathers himself to leave immediately.

“Keep your bitch on a leash next time,” the man mutters, and it’s the last you hear from him as he departs. Gwayne’s arms come around you immediately, snaking around your form and pulling you close into his chest. He smells of sweat and wine and now coppery blood as well. 

You feel pressure on the top of your head, and for a moment you think it may be his lips. But no, you write it off, you are tipsy and imagining things. 

“You stupid woman, do not scare me like that again,” he sighs, breathless and still on high.

“I had that handled!” You nearly shriek, and then falter, “I mean, there is a letter opener in my bag. I could have stabbed him myself, I could have put out his eyes or jabbed between his-“

“Handled? You fool, he was ready to dispatch you over a ring,” Gwayne cringes at his own words, as if his fear for your safety even scares himself. 

His hand cradling your head is warm, holding you close to his chest as if you are his. You lean into the embrace, not quite holding him back, but because the comfort outweighs the desire to stand straight. This is twice now, that he has insulted your intellect, but you bury annoyance for the moment. He did, in fact, make sure you were to go home with all of your fingers tonight. 

“Fine,” you pout, looking up at him, “I guess some thanks are in order.”

His face immediately softens as you gaze up at him, a faint smile on his lips as he takes in your appearance. 

“I appreciate that, My Lady.”

“Do not think this puts you back in my good graces, Ser Gwayne.”

“My heroism is not enough? Might you believe it is me now?”

Not you. Not you. The words swirl in your head. Not him.

“I believe you are out of the Keep late at night, nothing more.”

His arms do not leave you, but his embrace of you loosens. 

“And what are you doing here? A noble lady, this close to the Streets of Silk? You might as well be on them.” His voice is strained with anger and worry, his hair out of place and sweat evident on his brow. For a moment, you almost feel bad he is in such a state. He is clearly distressed, maybe harmed, because of you. A part of you wants to reach out to him and check for any sore or tender spots, but equally, you want him to just stop making that face. 

But then it cuts through your tipsy haze what he has truly said, what he himself has revealed.

You scoff, incredulous and seeing red. You push him off of you as if he had been the one to cause your injury tonight. 

“Good Ser,” the title spits like venom from a serpent, “I think I need not ask what you are doing near the Streets of Silk.”

He is silent for a moment, a damning silence as he looks to the shine of a puddle settling between the cobblestones. 

“You are lucky I spotted you when I did, Y/n.”

Hot, humiliated tears threaten to spill from your eyes, nevermind that Gwane will not meet your eye and looks just as wounded as you feel. He was on the Streets of Silk, he all but admitted, no doubt chasing women with the crown’s coin and roughing up with his men. The smell of sweat on his tunic is not from defending you from that man, you realize. Truthfully you always knew where your tavern was located, but it had not been an issue until tonight. Until Gwayne Fucking Hightower had to play hero and humiliate you even further as some silly chivalrous interlude in a knight’s evening of debauchery. After everything he had written, the apology he had given you, he has proven he is still just the knight you always thought he was. He could not possibly be genuine in his affections for you if he could so easily come here, you tell yourself. Surely, this is only more fuel to the fiery cavern burning distance between you. He will not see you cry, he mustn’t. 

“My hero,” you mutter, and shove the crumpled parchment to his chest as you walk past him. 

You hold your tears until you reach the tunnel. 

[90shaladriel]

I'm not blaming anyone, clearly the show made it a point to pivot Sauron to unredeemable in Season 2 when I don't think that is what they showed us in Season 1. Personally that it less interesting to me for his character and also the implications that gives to Saurondriel, but I realize that's not what the show is going to be about. That is fine!

I believe me & the other person above were saying Nenya can't heal evil like that, you have to heal that evil inside you yourself.

Well this is the debate isn't it? I am saying that Nenya CAN heal evil like that, as is proved by Adar's healing, so why not? Also given the sample size is exactly 1, nobody can make broad declarative statements about what it can or cannot do in show-lore because it's up to our interpretations isn't it?

Adar on the other hand, sees their existence & suffering, knows his involvement in it & instead of hating it & them along with it he chooses to love them, fight for them & try to break the cycle of abuse that perpetuates their plight.

But he doesn't extend that love and compassion to the men and women of the Southlands or the Elves of Eregion? The stuff he does or, by inaction. allows the Uruks to do is horrendous. I think what he tried to do in the very end with Galadriel is the only way they can break the cycle, but it was too little too late. But again that only happened after he stole Nenya and in the meantime permitted his Uruks to destroy Eregion.

Sauron may not regard the Uruks with much love or dignity, hard to dispute. The only caveat would be on the raft when Galadriel spoke of her quest for vengeance against the Orcs, Sauron made a point of telling her, "if you want to murder Orcs that is your own affair, but don't dress it up as heroism" he clearly cares more about them than she did who is the hero of the story. We only really have glimpses of what he might have done after Morgoth's defeat that caused Adar and the Uruks to turn on him, we only got Adar's account of this. I guess we can assume the worst for the sake of discussion but I could imagine it was more nuanced. Perhaps Adar sought to rule himself and seeded the rebellion against Sauron? We don't see Adar giving up his rule once the Orcs have a home in Mordor, nor does he act to create a democratic order of equality among them, he very much takes charge as a "Lord".

I think in an inverse way, we see Sauron time and again appear to hold the Men of the Southlands in higher regard than the Uruks. We didn't fully get the King of the Southlands as it was cut short, but up until his wounding he was saving people's lives. He continually argued with the Elves on the necessity to aid the men that he represented in Halbrand form. I think as you said :

This doesn't erase his crimes against the southlanders but those crimes also don't erase his genuine love for his children. 2 things can be true at once, this show is beautiful in its complexity this way!

Is very much true for Sauron. They are two sides of the same coin. He is full of contradictions!

Yes. Sauron let Diarmid perish. He also chose to forsake violence and revenge by turning away from the Uruks and Adar in the Southlands and following Diarmid.

You could say that Adar did good here and there. But also Sauron saved Galadriel's life at sea when there was zero material benefit to himself and even possible risk knowing how powerful she was and that her actual mission was killing him! He purposefully gave his enemy a chance to live, nothing can take away that altruism he displayed, whether he did other rotten things or not. Going to fight in the Southlands, saving Elendil's life, sparing Adar's are all further of examples of this right up till the end of Season 1.

So by that measure, I do think even Sauron has parts of him that are good so I do believe there are things that could have brought that out externally, yes.

Clearly by the end of Season 2 they wanted to ensure that he was fully evil for whatever reason, he had plenty of opportunities to make other choices and didn't. That's all his blame. Talking about what Nenya would have done is just a fun thought experiment!

S1E1 of ROP sets up the theme of "Nothing is evil in the beginning"

This is a true to life imo & nuanced take on evil.

The show expands on it by showing us Sauron in his repentance phase where he is trying to return to his beginnings when he was still good.

S2E1 gives us the theme of the season "To be forgiven one needs to choose good everyday"

Again a very nuanced take on goodness, individual responsibility & willpower.

The show expands on it by simultaneously showing us Adar & Sauron starting on the same side & choosing different paths in the end.

This season shows us Sauron not choosing good, actively harming others and letting his decisions be based on greed & selfishness.

While Adar who's character's evil side was already established in Season 2 with the abuse of Southlanders gets his origins & motives fleshed out and then gets presented with the choice where he chooses good.

This show puts a lot of effort into nuances, complex topics like the cycle of abuse and dark characters that are very human & grounded in reality.

To imply that Magic Ring = Evil Eraser in a show like this imo diminishes the hardwork put into it & all its characters who have their own minds, motivations & challenges. (the very things we praise ROP Galadriel for having)

[cloudyicarus-blog]

I adore so so so much the way Anya was portrayed in unreliable narrations along the game. It's so different yet the same, like two sides of the same coin. With Curly, Anya is this timid, precious, helpless thing that doesn't know any better, like a lamb you cradle, while holding the knife right in front of it, telling it'll be alright, that you will soothe its sorrows, holding it while it cries.

With Jimmy, she's nothing. Devoid of what makes her a person, Anya is nothing more than something useless that Jimmy has to yell at, this lowly thing, so repulsive, used to vent frustrations and unsettle. The thing you suffocate with your hands, a small thing you kill with your thumb, leaving a smear of blood.

Neither of them truly see her as she is. She is this thing, this wounded pigeon that chirps and cries and pleads. This placated deer they bring to the altar. Rare are the eyes that see her for who she is, dear Anya, you died a saint, a desecrated soul. But you didn't die being yourself. The eyes that see you tinted you with their pupils, and you are lost, never seen, never known, never loved. And now, in the void of an unmoving ship, nobody will now who you were. Dear Anya, wandering among stars, never seen, never known, never loved.

[demigods-posts]

something about percy nearly dying at luke's hand at the end of tlt ruffles my bones. because imagine feeling like a burden to anyone who dared to care for you. imagine blaming yourself for the death of your mother. imagine grieving in black and white amid a world of color. and then an older brother sees you for all of your sorrow and pain. your cries for help that go unanswered. your longing for a reason to breathe again. and becoming someone you look forward to confiding in when the dust settles. only to discover that their source of light was merely a flame. and the summer air was always meant to burn you alive. truly haunting.

[nenoname]

Details in Stan's letter that still haunt me

(how long will I continue thinking about a two page letter that's technically not even that long because Stan's handwriting is fricking large? .....you don't need to worry about that.)

The bro code only shows up in the Lost Journal pages, and to me Stan's message feels like it purposely echoes Ford's "miss you" in the college photo (and for some reason the message doesn't appear in the website version of the photo?) ....or alternatively Stan simply noticed how distressed Ford was about this entire thing and wanted to support him in a way so he can be sappy but without the kids knowing, or both!

Stan's claim about the Oregon lottery contradicts what the Lost Legends website said about Tate McGucket's ability to predict the winning numbers!! ...but also breaking into the Lottery HQ is definitely a very Stan thing to do and it's not the first time small gags have been retconned

Despite spending most of his letter nonchalantly destroying him, the taunt about ripping a dollar bill in half is the only part where Stan is directly responding to Bill. Maybe it's the two of them having similar ways of thinking but it's rather specific considering Bill taunts the reader about it...

And after Bill spends an entire book calling Ford Sixer despite normally using a pretty wide range of nicknames for him, Stan then spends his letter mainly referring to Ford as Sixer, even though post-Weirdmageddon he tends to use a mix of nicknames. And it's not like he'd gotten to see Bill himself for long, let alone see him steal that childhood nickname (that is only used twice in the actual show btw!). Did Ford tell him what happened or...?

With all this and the website's "still on your mind" message, what I'm getting at is my tinfoil hat theory of Stan somehow seeing some of the pages the irl readers saw, even when it should be personalised to the specific reader, and he's been lying about it for some reason. Considering that the book flat out doesn't make an attempt at convincing Soos, I find it a stretch that whatever Bill was telling Stan via the book was an attempt to convince him either.

Wouldn't be the first time Stan's skimmed through a book and lied about what it meant to him.

(...Now I kinda wanna see a story about the family reading their versions of the book and making fun of it while Stan is improvising every single one of his pages and blatantly ignoring Bill's attempts to mock and taunt him)

But also I'm fascinated by the letters that only showed up on the website (aka the Soos+Wendy+McGucket+Pacifica ones). I'm assuming that Mabel had stuck them on after Stan's letter... but they were basically eaten by the book itself because seeing Stan's letter kick-started Bill's breakdown which takes up the rest of the book

[hermitcraftx]

The problem with a lot of traffic life interpretations in my opinion is they don't understand character foils or don't employ them in their writing. Grian-Martyn and Scar-Ren are genuinely pretty good character foils for a series that is not really scripted or planned out like a book is. I could go on and on about how they parallel each other and the similarities between them. Even the smaller details between the four usually match up

leaving the rant in the tags so I don't have a huge block of text again ueueue

[oh-my-bindery]

After Draco lied to his family and the snatchers about Harry being Harry - The Malfoy Manor

Lucius: So it was Harry Potter we just let escape…Draco you do realise that we are going to get punished for your stupidity?

Draco: …

Lucius: Why would you lie to us if you clearly knew what Potter looked like? Don’t you want Potter dead and us being alive and back to power?

Draco: …

After Harry risked his, Ron’s and Hermione’s lives to save Draco from FiendFyre in Room of Requirements

Ron: So we almost just bloody died because you decided to save that git - Malfoy?

Hermione: Harry, seriously, what was that about?

Harry: …

Ron: I swear to Merlin if you’re going to make us save his sorry arse once again I’m going to lose it!

Harry: …

[gldnstrngs]

can yall believe that in the season one finale merlin actually said with his whole chest—

“i’m happy to be your servant, till the day i die.”

?!?!?!???! im??? so??? normal??? about??? them??? bc what do you MEAN merlin said that to arthur after knowing him for only a few months esp when they didnt get along at first!!!

What Do You Mean!!!!!!!!!!!

like this is genuinely one of the most insane things merlin could possibly say no matter the circumstances

and the fact that arthur has NO CONTEXT… if i were him i would’ve FOLDED no joke

but also its just like🥺 bc merlin wanted arthur to remember him as someone who was loyal and devoted to him EEEEEEK

and to add the cherry on top this quote reminds me of the last line of loml by tswift

“and i’ll still see it until i die, you’re the loss of my life”

once again i am SO normal about them!

[tev-the-random]

So the thing that gets me about Starlo — the thing that really gets me — is how much this guy hates himself.

It's not something you notice the first time you're playing, because he's so confident and enthusiastic. He'd almost be cool if he wasn't such a dork. But after replaying the game with the context of where he came from, — and I'll admit, after reading some very interesting, in-depth fanfics and analysis about him, I'll try to link them if I find them again — his character becomes a bit... blurred. How much of this is Starlo, and how much of it is North Star?

Because- because the whole point of his sheriff persona is that he gets to be someone else, isn't it? When he's out there rootin' and tootin', acting out his hero fantasies and trying to imitate the characters from the westerns he admires, he becomes someone much cooler than himself. North Star is everything Starlo wishes he was: the fearless leader, the cunning cowboy, the confident sheriff who saves lives and wrangles bandits and hangs out with humans. Not just some nobody farmer who could disappear in the corn field without anyone noticing, not the son who wastes his time on daydreams.

He craves praise so deeply. That's the big difference between Star and Papyrus, I think, because Papyrus is just so unapologetically himself, while Star... he starts spending more and more time with this mask of greatness he made himself. Because people like North Star. Not Starlo.

North Star is a real sheriff. Not Starlo.

North Star is the one who brings help and hope and fun to monsters. Not Starlo.

North Star is the one worthy of being appreciated. Not Starlo.

And like... he wants to be liked so badly. So much effort is put into making sure North Star is good enough that Starlo tends to assume people hate him. He assumes his parents hate his life choices (they don't; they're proud of him and know he cares), he assumes Clover will laugh at him when he shows his face to them (they don't; despite everything, it's still him), he assumes the reason he fell out with his friends is because he wasn't a good enough sheriff (he knows damn well it wasn't actually Clover's fault, he's not THAT stupid. But he's still desperately grasping at the last pieces of his shattered persona, so if he just works harder, if he does what a real sheriff does and captures this human, then everything will be alright, won't it?)

I really wish we could have gotten more insight on Starlo's relationships and personality before the whole Wild East thing consumed him. Ceroba and the Feisty Five say they miss the old Starlo, but we never really get to know who the old Starlo was. And I don't think he knows either.

Wake the hell up, Star. People started liking you before you were North Star. Go eat some corn and calm down.

Point is, the impostor syndrome goes hard and that's such a mood. He was supposed to be the cool and silly cowboy guy, what the fuck–

[spacedlexi]

people who think clem surviving makes no sense are so funny. "they were literally foreshadowing her death the entire season" let me introduce you to the concept of a red herring. she tells lilly she isnt lee and shes right. the narrative was forcing her down that path, a path she saw as an inevitable fate waiting to take her too, but its a narrative broken by aj, who is also his own person and not S1 clem

"it happened to lee, and itll happen to you" lilly tells clem she'll die protecting aj from some mistake he makes, when in reality his defiance of her will is what saves her life after she had already accepted her fate. he breaks clem free from the lee cycle and they get their relatively happy ending. good for them

[hanafubukki]

I find it rather interesting and fitting (probably deliberately) how they intwined Lilia in this event.

Besides the whole, bodyguard of the king and country and symbolisms of peace parallels with Lilia and the main story for Book 7 and how we have seen that come about for the fae and humans.

The “Sunset Warrior” part is what really interests me. What with Lilia being a night fae hence the Sunset Warrior title being a fitting title. The one who helps bring peace. Darkness.

Which is in direct contrast of the Knight of Dawn. The one who is blessed by the day faeries. The one who wanted peace but was forced to fight in a war for his loved ones. Light.

(Something something how “sunset” and “dawn” can be seen as transitions something something how that shows the change in Lilia and Dawn)

Little details like this is what I like to focus on. It’s rather interesting to me. Especially seeing how environmental factors and such can influence a person and their actions. Love the narrative foil aspects you know?

This reoccurring theme of Darkness and meanings makes me wonder too, especially when you consider the Piece of My World lyrics 👀🤔

[mishy-mashy]

Oh the temptation to write a Resistance fic where Kudo learns to take care of a baby during terrible times

[firecooking]

Something something parallel