#sh trigger warring

[basicallymydiary09]

Friday 31/3/23

2:30 pm

I am up to the part of atyd where James and lily die so my day started off pretty shit but I keeps getting worse. It’s hurting to breathe and I keep getting dizzy spells. I got my year 9 jacket yesterday and it’s only just got me that this is the last time me and my friends will all be going to the same school, mum wants to move to Geelong so it’s going to be even harder to stay in contact with each other. I don’t wanna grow up, I wanna go back to the days of going for sleepovers every other day and not hating the way I look or act. I always said the second mum moved to Werribee was the second I became an adult even though I was in grade 5 (it’s wierd that was 4 years ago) o matured fast bc the bulling just got worse and worse and I was introduced to social media. I was 10 when I first got an Insta acc, I was 11 when I got TikTok. I was 11 when I first got fat-shamed. I was 12 when I first got fat-shamed by my family/friends. I was 12 when I first cut my wrist bc I wanted to die bc I hated myself that much and I hated the way I looked bc of the way my mum would say “you e gained weight” or “your butt/boobs have gotten bigger since lockdown started” or when dad would say “your no longer boney M we should start calling you big M” or the other day when he said I had an ED bc I wasn’t hungry. Sometimes I wish that I could just run away and loose all contact with my parents, I hate them both so much but I can’t go ask and if my friends if I can stay with them bc they all live near us and the ones that live far away, I’m not close enough with to ask if I can live with them ya know.

[autumnmobile12]

Odysseus and Calypso Were Lovers

As problematic as that sounds because WTF, hear me out because it's complicated and there's a lot to discuss. Trigger warning for sa. Also, not directly Epic: The Musical related; that's a whole other ballpark.

She trapped him on her island!

I'm not denying that nor am I denying how objectively messed up that is.

However, the captor and prisoner trope is one that does crop up in Greek mythology now and then.  The most famous example I can think of is Hades’ kidnapping of Persephone.  I have seen that situation blatantly called rape in the original story, and yet today, modern storytellers do like to revise that myth into a version that makes Demeter out to be an overbearing mother and Persephone's ‘kidnapping’ so to speak becomes an escape.  Personally, I think that is a very graceful way to make a barbaric story a bit more palatable to modern audiences.

So regarding Odysseus’ situation where falling in love with his captor is problematic…my thought process runs as, “Fucking Greek mythology and its weird idea of what constitutes as a love story.”

As a result, I have no serious thoughts on the morality of certain figures of Greek mythology because they frankly come from a time period where the people had a very different culture and set of moral values and ideas on what was acceptable. Therefore, it's futile to judge their stories by my own modern moral compass.

Where in The Odyssey does it say they were lovers?

The main line I can't ignore that strongly implies the nature of their relationship is Odysseus' farewell to Calypso:

“The sun went down and brought the darkness on. They  [Odysseus and Calypso] went inside the hollow cave and took the pleasure of their love, held close together.”  - The Odyssey, Homer, translated by Emily Wilson.

Keep in mind, she’s already told him he’s free to go.  He’s free to build his raft, she’s giving him supplies, and yet he says goodbye this tenderly.  Note the absence of Calypso using magic to compel him. If you cherry-picked this line, you'd find a fond goodbye.

Odysseus’ Tears

A lot of people making the ‘Odysseus/Calypso was a non-consensual situation’ argument like to cite the line that Odysseus cried every day on Ogygia.  And yes, he did weep every day he was there.  But this is the full stanza.

“On the tenth black night, the gods carried me till I reached the island of Ogygia, home of the beautiful and mighty goddess Calypso.  Lovingly she cared for me, vowing to set me free from death and time forever.  But she never swayed my heart.  I stayed for seven years; she gave me clothes like those of gods, but they were always wet with tears.” - The Odyssey, Homer, translated by Emily Wilson.

‘Beautiful and mighty….Lovingly she cared for me….she never swayed my heart.’  He speaks highly of her, not with hate or venom for her delaying him.

In my literature class where we read The Odyssey, the tears line was discussed and largely interpreted as Odysseus’ reaction to all the monsters he’d faced and losing all his crew and friends.  The PTSD of a war veteran.  From the cultural mindset of Ancient Greece, Odysseus was a king, and he failed his people when they all died under his command and he was unable to bring them home.  Similarly, the hero Theseus was once king of Athens.  He was usurped in absentia (Theseus being trapped in the Underworld at the time) and when he returned to his kingdom, he found another man on his throne, was forced to flee, and died a rather ignoble death when a supporter of his usurper shoved him off a cliff.  So Odysseus being a king who let an entire fleet die under his watch is certainly grounds for shame to the point of tears in the eyes of the Ancient Greeks.  And with an entire line-up of men attempting to court his wife and take his place, it drives home the idea that he was replaceable.

Also important to note:  He’s still miserable when he leaves Ogygia.  When he arrives at King Alcinous’ court, he is welcomed, provided food, shelter, and entertainment, but when the king checks in with his heartbroken guest, he pleads with him to tell him what’s wrong, which kickstarts the telling of Odysseus’ journey.

Odysseus was afraid of Calypso!

That said, it's also important to address this concept because this is Odysseus' reaction to the goddess telling him she is sending him on his way to Ithaka:

‘Goddess, your purpose cannot be as you say; you cannot intend to speed me home. You tell me to make myself a raft to cross the great gulf of ocean--a gulf so baffling and so perilous that not even rapid ships will traverse it, steady though they may be and favoured by a fair wind from Zeus. I will not set foot on such a raft unless I am sure of your good will--unless, goddess, you take on yourself to swear a solemn oath not to plot against me any new mischief to my ruin.’ The Odyssey, Homer, translated by Shewring.

His suspicion certainly suggests mistrust and fear that she intends to do him harm, and considering his track record of being hated by deities, that's understandable. This isn't exactly what you'd call a loving relationship. But this also brings up a weird contradiction in the poem. I would 100% say this was a completely non-consensual situation were it not for this line:

His eyes were always tearful; he wept sweet life away, in longing to go back home, since she [Calypso] no longer pleased him. - Wilson.

Not ‘she did not please him.’  She no longer pleased him.  That implies she 'pleased' him at one point and because of that, one could argue Calypso was a mistress and Odysseus eventually tired of her. (Probably long before seven years had passed.)

What Do The Translators Say?

I can't speak for all translators, but in the Emily Wilson translation, she includes a lengthy introduction describing Odysseus' world, the culture of Ancient Greece, the reasoning behind specific English wordage in the translation, etc. In the introduction, she refers to Calypso and Circe as Odysseus' affairs. Not his abusers. He also has a brief flirtation with Princess Nausicaa, the daughter of his final host, King Alcinous. Wilson then goes on to describe how these affairs are not a character failing of Odysseus in comparison to the treatment of Penelope where she is expected to be faithful and how that is indicative of a good woman.

Taking a step back from Greek mythology, consider the actions of King Henry VIII of England. Most historians agree that, for the first few years, the king's relationship with his first wife Katherine of Aragon was unusually good for the times. And yet he was an unfaithful husband, had at least one acknowledged bastard and historians speculate there were more. But while 'indiscretions' such as this were frowned upon in the Tudor Period, Henry VIII did not receive near as much criticism as Queen Katherine would have if she'd had an illegitimate child. If Katherine was 'indiscreet,' that was considered treason because she compromised the legitimacy of the succession and that was cause for a beheading.

Because misogyny. Again, different time, different moral values.

Misogyny in The Odyssey

Whatever one's thoughts on Calypso are, it is incredibly misogynistic of Homer to solely blame her for keeping Odysseus trapped while he conveniently ignores the plot hole that her island is completely surrounded by ocean and we all know that Poseidon was lurking out there just waiting for his shot at vengeance.  Odysseus is barely two stanzas off Calypso’s island before Poseidon goes after him.  It’s almost hilarious how quickly it happens.  The poem says Poseidon was returning from Ethiopia, not that he was there for the whole seven years, and Hermes clearly did not pass along the memo that Odysseus was free to return to Ithaka.  Although I like to imagine it was Zeus who forgot about Poseidon’s grudge against Odysseus, and Hermes, being the mischievous scamp that he is, did not remind him.

If one line in the text says Odysseus/Calypso was consensual while another says otherwise, which is it?

Honestly, I don't think there's a conclusive answer with just The Odyssey. I'm a hobbyist, not an expert, so I do refer to the judgment of translators like Wilson to make that call. If she and other translators say Calypso and Circe were affair partners and I can see the lines in the text to support that, I'll believe it and chalk up the rest as Greek mythology being problematic.

That said, we can also look at the opinions of other Greek poets in their further writings of the mythology:

“And the bright goddess Calypso was joined to Odysseus in sweet love, and bare him Nausithous and Nausinous.” - The Theogony; Of Goddesses and Men, Hesiod, translated by Evelyn-White.

“… after brief pleasure in wedlock with the daughter of Atlas [Calypso], he [Odysseus] dares to set foot in his offhand vessel that never knew a dockyard and to steer, poor wretch…” - Alexandra, Lycophron, translated by Mair.

Both seem to be of the opinion Calypso was Odysseus' lover.

Interestingly, Hesiod also writes in The Catalogues of Women Fragment:

“…of patient-souled Odysseus whom in aftertime Calypso the queenly nymph detained for Poseidon.” - The Catalogues of Women Fragment, Hesiod, translated by Evelyn-White.

The wording ‘detained for Poseidon’ implies Calypso was acting at Poseidon’s command or she was doing the sea god a favor or she possibly didn't have any free will herself whether or not Odysseus stayed on Ogygia. Either way, it does neatly account for Homer's aforementioned misogyny/plot hole.

But if Hesiod and Lycophron's works are not part of The Odyssey, why should we take them seriously?

You don't have to consider them canon. Just because I prefer to consider all mythology canon doesn't mean anyone else does. Just as easily, I could ask why we should take Homer's work seriously even though historians can't even agree whether or not he was a real person.

The truth is, Ancient Greece as we think of it lasted a thousand years.  Their culture/values changed several times and so did their stories to reflect those changes, and those stories continue to evolve to the modern day. Odysseus himself goes through a few different descriptions over the centuries, being described as scheming and even cruel in other works. So I consider modern works like Percy Jackson, Epic: The Musical, Son of Zeus, and so on to be just more cogs in the evolving narrative. Much like how retellings of Hades and Persephone are shifting to circumstances easier to accept by audiences today.

But why would Odysseus be unfaithful to his loving wife?

The loving wife he claimed as payment for helping out King Tyndareus? Yeah...Odysseus and Penelope's relationship may not quite be the undoubted loving one modern retellings make it out to be nor is Odysseus a saint in The Odyssey.

“A blast of wind pushed me [Odysseus] off course towards the Cicones in Ismarus.  I sacked the town and killed the men.  We took their wives and shared their riches equally amongst us.”  - The Odyssey, Homer, translated by Emily Wilson.

Raiding a town unprovoked, killing the men, kidnapping the women, stealing their treasure is not indicative to what we in the modern day consider heroic or good protagonist behavior. Also, at the end of the Trojan War, Queen Hekuba was made a slave and given to Odysseus.

As for the chapter with Circe, Penelope's name isn't even mentioned. Moreover, the wording of the Wilson translation gives the troubling connotation that Circe may have been the one who was assaulted.

Hermes’ instructions to Odysseus are as follows:

"...draw your sharpened sword and rush at her as if you mean to kill her. She will be frightened of you, and will tell you to sleep with her." - Wilson

She'll be frightened of him? Hermes is encouraging Odysseus to render Circe powerless by eating the Moly plant so she can't turn him into a pig, then threaten her with a sword, which does frighten her, and then sleep with her. That line of events is disturbing. Circe is the one who offers to take Odysseus to bed, sure, but there’s a strange man in her house, she’s allegedly afraid according to Hermes, and she’s unable to resort to her usual defense and turn him into a pig as she did with the others.  Under those circumstances, sleeping with an invader is a survival tactic.

However...after Odysseus makes Circe promise to turn his men back, she bathes him and gives him food like a proper Ancient Greek host. Yet before Odysseus accepts the meal, he puts his men first, saying he can't bear to eat until he knows they're well. So Circe turns them back, then Odysseus returns to where the rest of the crew are waiting on the shore. They're all convinced their comrades are dead until Odysseus tells them what transpired and they rejoice. All except suspicious Eurylochus who calls them fools for trusting Odysseus' word based on his previous bad decisions. Odysseus thinks about cutting his head off for speaking that way. Damn, that went from zero to a hundred fast.

But Penelope's name is missing from the story.

Odysseus only thinks of leaving Circe's island when his men speak of returning to their homeland, after which he goes to Circe about the matter, and she instructs him to go to the Underworld.

"That broke my heart, and sitting on the bed I wept, and lost all will to live and see the shining sun." - Wilson

Odysseus and his men all lament the idea of sailing into the land of the dead. So his tears and despair did not start with Calypso. Also, they return to Circe's island after the journey so she can help them make sense of Tiresias' instructions.

But setting all that aside, even when Hermes instructed him on what to do, Odysseus didn't make some grand speech on how he can’t betray his wife.  He doesn’t specifically say he’s crying for Penelope on Calypso’s island.  He doesn’t mention Penelope at all, and when King Alcinous asks him about his sorrow, Odysseus tells his whole story, barely bringing up his wife or his love for her.

So is Odysseus a good guy?

In all, Odysseus is a clever character who is known for using his wits to get out of any situation.  Polyphemus, the Sirens, Scylla, he had a plan.  The idea that he’s suddenly helpless against Calypso and Circe is out of character.  They may be goddesses, but they’re not exactly the heavy hitters of the pantheon, which is why Poseidon could absolutely order a minor sea nymph to stop what she’s doing and hold a man prisoner for him. And while Odysseus spends the entire story being thwarted by the gods, one could say he also thwarts the gods right back by refusing to give up.

Like most Greek heroes, I would say Odysseus is not what we today would call a hero. But when he shares a roster with characters like this:

Zeus:  Serial rapist

Poseidon:  Serial rapist

Hades:  Kidnapped Persephone (setting aside modern interpretations she went with him willingly)

Herakles:  Raped a princess named Auge  (Yes, really.)

Theseus:  Kidnapped Helen of Sparta when she was a child because he wanted to marry a daughter of Zeus, aided and abetted his cousin in an attempt to kidnap Persephone, abandoned Ariadne, etc.

Jason the Argonaut:  Tried to abandon his wife. (I say ‘try’ because he didn’t get the chance. His wife Medea killed the other woman first.)

Hephaistos:  Raped Athena after she refused him.

Achilles:  Murdered a child to prevent a prophecy from coming true.

...Odysseus's atrocities are weirdly tame by comparison. Even the narrative where he kills the infant Prince Astyanax, modern retellings usually give that role to the lesser known Neoptolemus. More on that here.

In the end, it's not necessarily thematically important whether or not Odysseus is good or bad. The core of his character revolves around his cleverness and ability to build and strategize and make his own way in the world he lives in. Rounding this out is Emily Wilson's commentary on the symbolism behind the tree bed,

"In leaving Calypso, Odysseus chooses something that he built with his own mind and hands, rather than something given to him. Whereas Calypso longs to hide, clothe, feed, and possess him, Athena enables Odysseus to construct his own schemes out of the materials she provides." - The Odyssey, Homer, trans. by Emily Wilson, Introduction Pg 64.

So were Odysseus and Calypso lovers?

Based on the above, my opinion is 'Yes they were, but with the caveat they were problematic af.' Because problematic themes like that are pretty par for the course in Greek mythology.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Silver Lining 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your phone buzzes as your niece bounces dangerously close to the tree. Your sister's in town with her two kids, but neither her or her husband seem to care much about watching them. Somehow, you're tasked with that and unsure what to do about their endless energy. You envy them truly so you just kind of let them go.

You hear your mother and sister chattering in the kitchen, her husband is in the garage with your stepdad, and as always, you're the odd one out. You slide your phone out and check the ID. It's Bucky, technically your new boss. You notice you've missed a few texts from him. Great. Not a good start. You were supposed to tell everyone at dinner about your new gig.

You answer, watching the kids without much thought, play tug of war over a string of tinsel. You should stop them but it'll just snap anyhow. You clear your throat and put your hand to your cheek, feeling the nervousness warm your skin.

"Hello, Mr. B-Barnes," you eke out.

"Bucky, it's fine," he sounds slightly irritated but you don't think you've heard a different tone from him so far, "you're busy?"

"Well, uh, n-not exactly," you shrug, "j-just family s-stuff."

"Family... so you won't be able to go over the script? I just got your edits."

"U-uh, y-yeah, if you want to, I c-can grab my l-laptop," you offer and turn your back to the room.

"I'd prefer it if we could meet. I'm more of a face-to-face person."

"O-old-fashioned," you comment. You regret that he exhales deeply on the other end. "S-sorry, I o-only meant--"

"You're right. I'm old-fashioned. Not a bad thing," he insists, "so, is it too late? Should we find another time?"

"T-tomorrow?"

"I'm going out of town for the weekend," he huffs, "I really want to have this ready to record when I get back."

"R-right," you chew your thumb, a sudden bawling tears through the air as you spin around and find your nephew stuck under the tree. Oh no! "Oh, sh-shoot."

You cover the microphone as you lower the phone. Your sister rushes in, your mother at her heels as they squeal. You watch helpless as she fishes Casey from under the fir branches, "you were supposed to be watching them," she accuses.

"I-I was?"

"Oh, come on, you know, I barely get a minute to myself and you can't just keep an eye on two kids? Ugh, no job and you can't be bothered just to look," she snarls.

They're not your kids. You flutter your lashes as you fight back tears and that smart remark.

"I actually h-have a c-call from m-my new job," you hold out your phone and wiggle it at her, "I d-don't b-babysit f-for free."

She scoffs and your mom tuts as she shakes her head. They don't even care. No congratulations but they can constantly throw your unemployment in your face. You take a breath and roll your eyes.

"S-sorry, I g-got to go," you turn and drag your feet out of the room.

"Well, she didn't say she had a job," your mother mutters as your sister grumbles back, "about time."

You ignore them as you head upstairs. It's better you let your sister bask in her spotlight. You weren't looking forward to dinner anyhow. Not for anything more than the hunger groaning in your stomach. You put the phone back to your ear.

"A-are you there? S-sorry, I g-got distracted."

"Really, if you're busy--"

"N-no, I n-need to get a-away," you say.

You're silent at the confession. You didn't mean to sound so pathetic. You go down the hall to your room and find a sweater.

"Well, uh, how about we meet at the cafe? Middle ground. You like that place?"

"Up t-to you," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

"You need a ride?" He asks, to your surprise.

You pause as you grip the bright pink wool in your hand, "N-no, I'll f-find my way." You swallow and lay the sweater on your bed, "uh, b-bye."

You hang up before he can respond. You're embarrassed. He probably heard all of that and more. And now you've gone and betrayed your stupid self to him. Of all people. He doesn't need to know you're a complete failure. You hate to accept it but you have to; you need him more than he needs you. So maybe you'll just change the damn thesis after all.

🩶

You get to the coffee shop with snow caked on your hat and in the collar of your coat. You shake it off just outside and enter, your cheeks and nose kissed with the cold. As much as you love the winter, it's a bit much. You let out a brrr as you pull of your mitts and tuck them inside your hat. You hear your name and glance over. It's him, he's beat you there.

You tramp over to him as the snow melts off your boots and you wave, setting your bag in the chair as you unbutton your coat.

"Didn't m-mean t-to take too l-long," you say.

"Hot chocolate shouldn't be that cold," he assures you. You wince and look at the table. Sure enough, there's a second cup.

"O-oh, you d-didn't have t-to--"

"It's fine, not a big deal," he shakes his head.

You nod and hang your coat over the back of the chair and tuck away your mittens and hat in the sleeve. You sit and bring your bag into your lap. You flip up the flap and pull out your laptop, chilly from the walk there. You sense him watching you. You leave your computer shut as you lay it out and reach for the hot chocolate. You give it a taste and hum, thanking him.

"Sounds like a rough day," he comments.

"Y-yeah, b-but you d-don't have to w-worry about it," you assure him, glancing around evasively. When is he going to start being mean?

"You got kids?" He asks.

You have to hold in your laughter. "Sister's k-kids," you explain, "n-not for m-me."

"Ah," he accepts and reaches for his coffee, "right. Makes sense."

You keep your eyes down. You don't want to get too personal. Feels like he's just being polite, likely because he feels bad for you, not about his previous behavior.

"Don't got any either," he leans forward, his thick fingers hugging his cup, "so, your new draft was... great."

"R-really?" You lift your gaze meekly.

"Yeah, yeah, I just have a few notes," he sits back to bend down to the bag at his feet, "thanks for coming so last minute.”

You open your laptop, trying not to show any emotion. It's kind of him but you just don't believe it's anything other than pity.

[lizaluvsthis]

SMG4: You used to be cool...

"HEY LIZ! howd that new epis-"

*DEEP BREATHING...*

*MOVES AWAY WIPS AND DROPS A NEW HYPERFIXATION*

*thanking @shygirl4991 for putting up some thoughts for the new episode! I really like to read those :)*

You- HAVE NO- F-CKING IDEA HOW LONG I QAS WAITING FOR THE "VILLAIN" THING. GAHHH!!!

OKAY SO-

wait sh-t wrong image...

SO THIS! RIGHT AFTER EGGMAN HAS OBSERVED SMG3 FROM THIS SHT- HE PUTS THREE ON A TEST AND THEN AFTER THOSE STUFF HE REACHED THE FINAL ONE- WHERE HE HAS TO UNALIVE HIS "ARCH NEMESIS" BUT WHAT EGGMAN DIDNT KNOW IS THAT THEY WERE BOTH "EX" RIVALS NOW.

BUT-BUT WHY???

cant we all just talk about the part when THREE WASNT CONSIDERED THE "COOL EVIL VILLAIN" to his other villain mates from what he USED to be back in the old days of his shenanigans??

Eggman doesnt see that our man three has had his thing called- " DEVELOPMENT " RIGHT AFTER THE WHOLE THING...

Three has gone far too long- three has been through so much and so many things had changed including him and his way of seeing things. He had gone too soft from the past few years and eggman sure had been catching up on his daily does.

EGGMAN. However. He considered to be three's idol back then- but now? He sees three as a 'low level of villain' because the three he knew before had so much destruction and destroying stuff.

Eggman missed the three he knew, the one who USED to be a total top Villain.

SMG3 has never realized how much things had changed and that he too did. Now bringing up this part

This part when three was shocked when Eggman told him that his final task was to "KILL" his arch nemesis. SMG3 is flabberghasted.

In his lair- room¿ he was practicing his shooting skill (pointing it at four) for the right aiming AND to finish him off.

See- I noticed something here- SMG3 couldn't bring himself up to do it for seconds... just a single detail of his hand SHAKING while holding a gun, pointing it at SMG4 (which is just a picture of him from a cardboard)

He couldnt do it- just- COULDNT. He had those memories flashing back to him, his hand holding with SMG4, how they both used to bond together, how he said they were FRIENDS and that he really meant to say that infront of his face, with four's reaction.

Notice how the music came to get intense during the flashbacks? Where we saw this event from Three drawing him and smg4 after 23th of wotfi? This is the most important part. That HE SMG3 drew them both together in his personal diary, a MOMENT of a good memory he and four created.

But oh wait- how did this come to three shooting him still? Even tho it was just a confetti? Why did he still shot SMG4 (on that picture)? I'll tell you another reason. "Christmas Wars" :) lets go back to that shall we?

"You'd consider partying with the guy that tried to kill us?"

Now THIS CANON EVENT. so happens to ruin Three's mood. THATS where he onwardly shoots four's picture with a gattling gun... a REASON. Why.

This triggered him SO much from the memories he spent with Four and what he'd thought about his ex rival.

After Three kept being indenial to eggdog that he doesn't care about SMG4 and that "he had NO character development" with him.

That was all a lie. (We already know that- but it's still important and relating to the episodes HOW MUCH of a bastard SMG4 is to SMG3, he continues to be friends with Four as he moves on.)

-the gun to four scene-

During this scene when Three barges in with Four making a new meme for his content Tomato Soup. Four never even thought about the things that could ever happen when three is there. He simply went on with the usual "friends conversations" talk.

Because four knows that they were both friends now. And that he knows 3 has gone soft. With an emotionless face, he approached to Four holding a GUN.

To where Four noticed- "oh a glock- watcha gonna do with that...?" He felt nervous and worried something with three carrying it- "Oh, something that I should of done long ago..." With Three holding up a gun and pointing it at Four, SMG4 screamed "THREE WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?"

The detail... his eyes? From a pinch of second his eyes when he LOOKED infront of Four's? He felt sorry to himself. He had been pointing this gun at SMG4 and the pain he's baring from his chest lived on with mixtures of feelings he had developing with Four next to him.

He was unsure. He couldnt decide- because HIM as SMG3 he wanted to be the most evil villain known of everyone and other of his villain buddies. Including Eggman. And with another spot he also wanted to make eggman prove to him that he hasnt gone soft.

that HE- would actually do it- for himself to prove that he is better...

But he cant- couldnt he?

Lets point this straight- we all get it- three has a soft spot- and that is SMG4 too- he could NEVER do that to him. He promised, he swore, he declared it, he announced it in official.

"Remember what I said? W-we- We're Friends!"

He will never EVER. take this part of him. He will never REMOVE THIS BECAUSE HE BUILT THIS DEVELOPING FRIENDSHIP WITH SMG4

he could never.

SOOO he ends up shooting the tomato with four gettin all worried n stuff- making that "blood splatter" from the window to where eggman mistaken that he actually "did" kill SMG4

SMG3 backfires on Eggman with a sneak attack,

"Like usual-"

Okay three- we get it. You annoy his ass back when he annoys you first. You ruin beeg and his dating plan and may or may have shoved a dynamite in four's mouth right after "the inspection" with his coffee request.

But we've never actually seen any other stuff beyond that reach right after wotfi 23... so three... tell me... how USUAL were you trying to put when you've BARELY DONE ANYTHING EVIL THAT RELATES FROM "KILLING" OUR GUY?

Maybe it was all... pure torture of asmr or just ruining four's day... (thats atleast what he'd meant when he said "killing you" with no tensions of doing so in literal)

When SMG4 looked at three who emotionally cried when he said this line- he still continued to cry (even after when Three smacked his face annoyed with him being a baby)

He still cried at his new meme continuosly. He didnt gave himself a second to think. "If he actually wanted to kill me, then why didnt he just do it already?" "What is stopping him from killing me?"

But no. HE JUST STRAIGHTS UP BEIN ALL OBLIVIOUS AND JUST FOCUSES IN ONE POINT AND CRIES DIRECTLY AT HIS TOMATO SOUP'S DEATH.

NOOO when i THOUGHT. ABOUT THE "allow me to demonstrate" GAVE ME THE REFERENCE FROM ANDRIAS'S WORDS FROM AMPHIBIA "TRUE COLORS" Scene... (if- you guys watched amphibia)

This part when Andrias said "allow me to demonstrate" thats the part he made the whole line about "thats how a thing about friends is it? The more you love em the more it hurts to let them go..." THEN THE LINE CONTINUES WITH HIM DROPPING DOWN THE PROTAGONIST'S FRIEND OFF A HEIGHT-

and seeing this part when- eggman said that? I am... SH-TTING with myself.

With three expecting to take the hit, but instead he pointed the missle at Four, Three would be expecting that now. But with eggman knowing that he and Four had a bond for a few years and on? HE POINTS IT TO FOUR ON PURPOSE. TO SEE HOW THREE WOULD BE ACTING.

Some of you might say "yeah we get it- he pointed that gun at four so whats up about it?" UM- EXCUSE ME... *COUGH* HE- WAS POINTING AT HIS DEAR FUTURE BOYFRIEND/HUSBAND-/HJ

With Three getting a bit too protective and tried defending SMG4 it was all on worth the time. As he squashed four's newly made meme, this is referenced from "mario's spicy day" where back back back BACKKKK in the episode where Four had destroyed Three's whole production area he had took time to work on.

SMG4 destroyed his children. Children of his own that were his MEMES. And putting it here when Four had his own memes as his children? IT WAS HIS- TURN TO SPIN THE TABLES AND PUNCH IT AT FOUR'S FACE.

To let him experience.

The suffering and pain he had done. Thats why... he laughed at him.

With SMG3 putting out his true speech from "I am happy with just the way I am..." he TENSIONALLY- PLACED- HIS RIGHT HAND AT SMG4'S SHOULDER. standing up at his own. All proud and happy...

Three finally learned his own lesson that he doesnt have to be forced to be like someone that he used to be and the stuff he'd usually did before. Because that was the old him, the old self of his? Is gone now. Three is continuing to bloom from his own way and had things that he ever needed or desired to have. A job of his? Is there, friends? There already, a partner by his side? Is also there! (Barely- but still is!) His twitch strreaming or taking care of his son? Is there!

He has had a new purpose of living and this is the path he chose. So he broke free from just by being himself and not getting pushed by other people by just telling him. "You used to be cool..." "wheres the old smg3 we knew?" "Why arent you the three we know that used to commit world destruction anymore?" "Wheres three?"

You cant call the old three because THIS IS THREE.

This is the baby boy we have and he still grows on and on out of his shell. Leave the man alone ya big bozos because he's having his own development, discovering his own ways between living the life of good and bad.

Three had an amazing development honsetly and I dont like how people say "we want the old three back" but you guys cant.

Anyways- these are my messages and uhhh a whole essay or... something- I'M GLAD YOU TOOK YOUR TIME ON READING THIS BECAUSE I REALLY LOVE LOOKING THROUGH THE DETAILS AND SLIGHT REFERENCES THAT'RE PUT IN HERE...

Please dont tell me these two will get foreshadowed... please dont.

AND THAT CALLS OUT FOR YOUR LIZA'S NEW FIXATION FOR THE NEW EPI-

*flat heart rate monitor*

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

👑The girl in the silver dress👑New version

Aemond x reader

Tags: Fluffish, royalty, modernroyalty, theselection

Cool devider credits: firefly graphics

🔷Summary: You are invited to become a selected girl for Prince Jacaerys's selection. You never thought you would fall for his uncle, prince Aemond instead.

🔷Author's note: Based on the books by Kiera Cass, but reading them is not required.

🔷Wordcount :5393

🔷Warnings: It is not a very dark or triggering fic. If you found something that upsets you, however let me know ill change the warnings

The life you had before the palace was as a child’s coloring book before growing up. You didn't bother about crossing over the lines, no one told you to stop adding hats to the animals you coloured in, or to stop using so much pink and glitters. There was no line you could cross, no scissors wrapped in papers who could cut you open without you realizing.

All of that changed for better or worse when you were selected for the Selection of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon or as he would soon be known under his ruling name, King Jacaerys Velyaron. 

You never thought you would be selected. There are strict laws that only noble ladies from the minor houses can join the month-to-a-year-long competition where the Seven Kingdoms are introduced to his future bride. 

It is more than a beauty pageant. The skills of each bride are tested. The selection does not require mere Valyrian blood or beauty alone anymore. It has become a deadly game full of manipulation, lies, tricks, schemes and plots. Things you know nothing of.

Your house is not as grand as Baratheon, or as rich as Lannister, your house…It has always been decent. Your parents sheltered you from court life and tried giving you a normal life, as normal as one could have with your titles. And now, it all would change

You sit in the dining room of the royal castle, known as the Red Keep. The castle has survived multiple wars, sieges, treasons and deaths long before any of its current inhabitants graced this world, and many more would follow before you all are bones.

In front of you is a silver plate with a spoon, a fork, a knife and a glass. You never knew you cutted your food wrong or that you lean that much with your elbows on a table until your princess training began. 

It is all so terribly confusing. There are 35 girls here, and they want the same as you do. They want to be the one for Prince Jacaerys. They want to sit next to him at official functions and parties, they want one day to be his love, to continue his legacy and perhaps more than Jace, they want this glamorous life. 

You tell yourself that this uneasy feeling, that you don’t quite belong here, will fade. It has to. These girls are all from higher noble houses and used to courtly manners and training. Of course you will be a bit out of place at first. 

A gorgeous black-haired girl with a clear stag necklace with diamonds speaks up, rising from her chair as if she is already proclaimed queen. She turns to the woman who is tasked with guiding and teaching you all how to behave accordingly as the consort of the king. That lady is called Lady Aemma Arryn, yet you may refer to her as Lady Aemma or Lady Arryn. 

The girl’s voice has a slight accent from the Stormlands. ‘’When will we meet the royal family?’’ You believe her name is Floris, but you are not sure. You become slightly worried by her question, as you are in no state of preparation to meet anyone or anything royal at all.

Your teacher sighs, annoyed by this question. ‘’Patience, girls. I won’t introduce you to any royal. Some of you can curtsy but others would fall flat on their faces.’’ She doesn't even glance in your direction. So why do you feel as if she speaks directly about you?

Floris nods to that with a sweet smile, her eyes blinking rapidly. ‘’That would be embarrassing.’’ She says, eying the girls around the table, including you. You pretend to be too busy with your glass to notice.

Lady Aemma smiles. ‘’Yes it would.’’ She says, with a thinly veiled laugh. ‘’For you it would be.’’ She adds with a charming smile.

A few girls giggle delighted by this spectacle and amazing comeback. Floris becomes furious and you fear that for now, Lady Aemma has made an enemy. ‘’Ladies, focus. Remember: You are always one step away from a scandal.’’ The grand doors of the dining room open.

35 heads turn at the same time, taking in the mysterious visitors. It is two young adult males, both dressed in black, with each a motorcycle helmet under their arms. One is slightly taller yet the smaller one stands out the most thanks to his cheekish, boyish and almost taunting grin. 

Nervous chatter erupts among most girls, as they already seem to know who these two men are. You wonder if one of these two men is Jacaerys. The smaller one speaks, and despite the distance between you and him he speaks as if he is sitting right next to you, almost purring in your ear and sending shivers down your spine. ‘’I didn’t know the royal harem had been invited already.’’ 

You are offended by his comment and frown. The selection is not a harem. One girl will be chosen. One. This is nothing like a harem. The taller man remains silent, his expression unreadable as a book in a foreign language you only heard in a dream.

Lady Aemma smiles and for a moment you believe her. You believe she is happy to see both. Until the corners of her mouth slightly begin to hang in displeasure or perhaps pure disgust when she greets the man.

‘’Prince Aegon.’’ You slowly lift your elbows again from the table, quickly sitting straight. ‘’Forgive me, you nor your brother were expected back so quickly.’’ Aegon, or rather prince Aegon approaches the long table with 35 young women that stare at him as if he is a statue that has come to life.

Aegon takes no offense. ‘’It is no matter, Lady Aemma.’’ He makes sure to put a little extra effort on the lady word. ‘’You are getting old, after all.’’ Lady Aemma turns her head so he can’t see her scowl, very subtly before looking at the selected girls again.

She speaks to you all. ‘’Girls, this is Prince Aegon, and Prince Aemond. Please stand up for them, and make a curtsy as is custom.’’ You all stand up before following her orders, making a curtsy or a bow.

Aegon seems to enjoy the attention when his brother remains in the background, unaware of your gaze slowly shifting from Aegon's eyes to his own. When he finally notices your gaze, he scowls. Your smile dies and you turn your gaze to the glass in front of you. Aemond and Aegon leave soon after that, having caused quite the uproar among the selected.

The girl a few chairs away from you speaks, her blue and gorgeous dress reveals she is from either the Arryn, or perhaps a Velyaron. ‘’Is Jace just as pretty as them?’’ She wonders, her voice a little sigh of a girl slowly falling in love.

Lady Aemma scowls at her, before insulting the girl. ‘’Prince Jacaerys to you, and have some self-respect and decorum.’’ A few girls giggle, but you don’t join this time as you take in the sad smile of the girl, clearly embarrassed. 

Two months in the selection and you feel less like a failure every passing day. One day, when you are busy practicing the dance of the dragons, Lady Aemma returns from her walk. Several girls who have been practicing break up their dances, but you and your partner keep engaged in the dance. The girl was shy at first, keeping her movements stiff and ungracious, but after your encouraging smile and jokes about how you look like a parrot when you dance, she has loosened up and dances as if she is the most free and spirited girl out there. Her name is Maris. You and Maris smoothly glide over the dance floor, leaving jealous eyes behind. Not jealousy aimed at you, but at Maris or the bond you two have. Lady Aemma quietly walks over, her hands folded in front of her blue dress when she takes in the movements you and Maris make, faithful to the waltz.

She smiles, nodding in slight approval. You are shocked and you can tell that Maris is too. ‘’Good, especially you, Lady Baratheon. You are a natural.’’ To you, she does not utter a word but gives you a warning glare before turning her head to the other girls. You and Maris finally break up your dance so you can listen to what Lady Aemma has to say.

She sighs, deeply and very unbecoming of a lady, before speaking. ‘’Ladies, it is with great displeasure and my greatest fear that I must admit to myself, and you all, as adults, that you are finally ready to meet what could become your future family in law, as well his royal highness, prince Jacaerys Velyaron.’’ You hear Maris gasp, as well as other girls who giggle and mutter excitedly. Lady Aemma glares at one girl who lets out an excited cheer. ‘’Do not make me regret this.’’ She warns the girl in particular. 

That evening, you are prepared to meet the royal family. You are put in a silver coloured dress with transparent sleeves,  befitting your house colors. The other girls are dressed as well, each in another dress with a different model. When the selection started you all were giving a tailor, a handmaiden, a team of make-up artists and dressmakers. 

You would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t nervous to meet the royal family. They have a reputation for being intense people. They dislike outsiders joining their royal private circle, and for centuries banned people for even joining theirs. Now the rules have changed, and you are prepared for your meeting, hearing other girls talk with their teams.

Lady Floris Baratheon wears a dark black with gold gown, sleeveless with a huge diamond choker. Again, it would be a lie if you wouldn’t admit she wears it very well. She orders her maids to tighten her corset even more, before her small feet glide into her dark black heels.

You hear sniffs beside you, and turn your head to a gorgeous blonde crying girl in a red gown. Her make-up artist sighs. ‘’I can’t work like this. The girl keeps crying and it ruins the eyeliner I put on her.’’ Is he heartless? You feel conflicted as you take in her big puffy red eyes. She is upset.

The dressmaker does her best to comfort the girl, but fails miserably because of her annoyed glare and her tight pressed lips. ‘’You are ruining everything we worked so hard for with your tears.’’ She warns the girl. 

That only makes the girl feel even more terrible. ‘’I don’t know. What if he hates this? What if he hates me?’’  Your chest tightens as you become worried about that too.

A woman with her gorgeous silver locks high up on a knot in the Valyrian style, approaches the girl, gently taking her hands into her own. ‘’He doesn’t know you, he can’t hate you yet.’’ She tells the girl, who slowly calms down because of this act of sincere genuine kindness. That is all she needed.

The girl continues giving her advice as you listen in on them, feeling terrible that you do so. ‘’Jacaerys is very kind, and takes his role and the selection very seriously. He will have a small talk with all of us. Just be yourself, Jace likes that the most.’’ She finally notices you listening in. Instead of glaring or snapping at you, she smiles. ‘’You look beautiful. Silver is your color.’’

You are speechless. The girl she helped, is not. ‘’Thank you, Lady Baela. You’re always very kind to me.’’ She sniffs. ‘’If my face wasn’t full of snot and ruined make-up, I’d hug you.’’ 

Lady Baela smiles, yet beams at the compliment before taking the girl’s hand. After Baela has cleaned her face for her, and put on a fresh layer of much less expressive make-up, she takes the girl by her hand. ‘’I’m simply speaking my truth, lady Dyana. Come, we’ll go in together. I met the royal family before. They are actually very nice.’’

Floris snaps her head to Baela, taking in her dark blue puffy gown as she scoffs, clearly hating the seahorses that are embroidered on it. ‘’Where the hell would a girl like you met the royals before?’’ She asks, her voice clearly jealous.

Baela smiles, sweetly. ‘’Be careful, Lady Floris. Green clashes with black.’’ She walks with Dyana to the people by the doors, to let them know they are ready. You smile, faintly until you notice Floris approaching you.

She takes in your plain silver dress. ‘’You’re the nameless girl.’’ That is one way to greet you.

You shrug. ‘’What if I am?’’

Floris sighs, deeply as if you are just stupid before giving you some friendly advice meant as a threat. ‘’Just don’t bother, dear. A prince like Jace wants a girl with a house, banners, and good men to fight his wars.’’

You might suck at dancing, at court manners, public speaking, but the history and the books? That is something you excel at. You turn your head. ‘’Lady Floris. Perhaps if you spent as much time with your nose in a book as you did making others feel miserable, you would know that the last time the Seven Kingdoms had a war was hundreds of years ago. I suggest you spent more time reading, no man likes a girl that can’t keep up with him.’’ A few girls overhear and giggle among themselves, as Floris becomes a dark shade of red. You let her be, before telling the crew you are ready as well.

You are let in at the same time as Dyana. You take a moment to take in the grand chandelier, dangling from the ceiling, the polished marble tiles and the buffet tables with delicious sweets and glasses of champagne. The curtains that cover the tall windows are in a red color with dark black details, and you hear a faint orchestra play an upbeat tune as the selected are paraded to the royal family. 

You feel like you don’t belong here at all, suddenly. You and Dyana both approach the royal family. You will curtsy to every member, and when he has the time, Prince Jacaerys will formally meet his selected, making a conversation of about 3 minutes with every girl. You feel nervous, so you wonder how Lady Dyana  is feeling. She must feel even worse. She is close to crying again. You wait for her to catch your glance. She finally looks at you, a little nervous and worried.

You wink at her, causing her to giggle loudly. The royals snap their heads in her direction, but Jace’s lips curl into an approving smile, before grinning back. Dyana makes a deep, beautiful curtsy for Jacaerys. He speaks to her, smiling as well, before likely asking what she was laughing about. Dyana nods to your direction and Jace follows her gaze to you. Jace nods as if he thanks you, before taking off with Dyana.

Your hand is grabbed and you are tugged out of the line by Lady Aemma. You smell her intense parfum as you are dragged to the side. ‘’I had hoped you learned by now.’’ She sighs, almost disappointed in you. She turns her body so she can look at you.

You blink, confused. ‘’Had learned what, Lady Aemma?’’ You ask, your voice soft. ‘’Dyana seemed nervous-’’

She grabs your shoulders, breaking protocol. ‘’These girls are not your friends, Y/N. They would throw you from the towers so they can hold Jace’s hand when he takes in your corpse. Every girl is here for herself. You should be too.’’ She warns you, but you are not angry. Just upset.  Deep down, you know very well she is right. ‘’You are a sweet, genuine girl with a kind, gentle heart. It won’t lead you anywhere with this family. Take it from me. Kind girls, finish last.’’ She looks at King Viserys when speaking. ‘’If they reach the finish at all, that is.’’ You heard Floris once tell a story that Lady Aemma was a Queen once, but that Viserys degraded her because she could not deliver him a healthy child. Others say that Alicent used her dark magic on the king, breaking their relationship. So you don’t really know if there is truth to those rumors, and if so, how much truth.

‘’Come, Jacaerys is occupied, but the other members of the family must be greeted.’’ She takes you with her, walking you to the other members of the very well dressed royal family. ‘’May I present, Lady Y/N?’’ Princess Regent Rhaenyra is the first to address you.

Her dress takes your breath away, it is a dark black gown with red and golden details, but on her back are dragon wings. You drop in a low respectful curtsy before lowering your gaze. The princess smiles, approvingly before telling you to rise with a nod. ‘’My. Your dress is by far the simplest, but still the most beautiful out here. You must share your tailor with me.’’ She rambles excitedly. ‘’I love the little sparkles.’’ She seems like a sweet kind woman. You don’t understand why the media calls her cruel. ‘’And I saw what you did for your fellow selected. You have taken my interest, I don’t doubt you’ll hold Jacaerys soon as well.’’

You are brought before the king next, King Viserys. Aemma does not speak a single word, but you drop into another curtsy. The king speaks, and you worry for madness coming out. But it is far from madness. It is plain, true, as clear as a piece of well forged glass. ‘’It is a wonderful day, seeing a common girl grace the halls with the posture and decorum of a true born royal. Your kindness with the girl did not go unnoticed.’’ He speaks very kindly and you almost feel as if you are back at home again. He nods to Dyana who is now dancing with Jacaerys, in the waltz you practiced, not a care in the world. ‘’A ruler must have a kind heart, that beats for her people.’’

You are shocked and honored by his compliments. ‘’Y-your majesty, King Viserys. Your words honor me.’’ You speak, your voice touched by his kindness. 

A sharp but elegant voice cuts in, interrupting you, protocol and the reality is brought back in. ‘’May I cut in?’’ A beautiful red haired woman in a dark green gown with sharp spikes smiles at you, and you know she is Queen Alicent.

Viserys nods, smiling as you gulp silently. ‘’Of course, dear. This is her majesty, Queen Alicent Hightower.’’ You make another deep curtsy, and you can’t understand why she is called a witch or worse in the media sometimes.

Alicent smiles at Aemma. Aemma smiles back, unchallenged. You can read rivalry and hatred in both their eyes. Until Alicent speaks. ‘’Surely your flock needs help? I’ll take over for you. She only needs to meet my sons and the little princes.’’ The flock, being selected girls. You feel insulted and a little frightened when Alicent takes you with her, not giving Aemma a chance to save you. She walks you to the two young adult men, no longer in leather and jeans, but in suit and tie. They look extraordinarily handsome, for sure. But you are not here for them.

Prince Aegon sighs, muttering to his brother how bored he is. Prince Aemond does not even respond, having his hands folded on the back of his suit jacket, and his good eye is aimed at you, and you alone as a bee in trance of a blooming flower. Aegon even waves his hand in front of Aemond’s good working eye, before Aemond snaps at him, likely telling him to behave. You find it wondrous how he is the youngest, yet act as the eldest.

Alicent presents you to her sons. ‘’Aemond, Aegon…’’ She glares at the latter, warning him with that. ‘’This is Lady Y/n.’’ You dip in another curtsy, smiling at both royals who do nothing to even acknowledge your existence. 

The silence is painfully awkward as Alicent leaves. You speak, your voice soft and sincere. ‘’I am honored.’’

The eldest prince scoffs, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants. ‘’I imagine you would be.’’ You try to find your tongue, to say something sharp and witty but all that comes out is a very soft:

‘’Pardon?’’

Aegon laughs, gesturing around him. ‘’We are royalty, you are like a peasant. We are the lions, you are our gazelle.’’ You feel nauseous at that description, as if he can rip you to shreds. 

You turn your head to the other prince who remains silent. The prince follows your gaze. ‘’Don’t talk to my brother, he is not very talkative. Unless you like to talk about ancient Dornish statues, or banter on endless debates about historic battles.’’ You would much rather be getting a drink, then to be in the crossfire between those two.

Aemond hisses, clearly a bit embarrassed in his rough voice. ‘’Aegon.’’

You see an opening. And so you take it. ‘’I quite like Dornish statues. My father is the patron of art conversionship in Sunspear.’’ Aegon bristles, scoffing when sipping his drink when Aemond looks at you as if he only sees you now for the first time. He sees the real you, for the first time.  ‘’You do? You don’t…’’ He clears his throat. ‘’Find it boring?’’

Your father has been patron of persevering Dornish and other foreign cultural works, protecting it from greedy graverobbers and folks who think other people’s cultures belong in their own house. He makes sure the local museums display it, earn money from it and profit from it but most of all: That Dornish aritfacts remain in Dorne. Your dad does admirable work, some would call it boring, perhaps. But how else can you learn from history, if you don’t cherish and protect it?

Your words come blurting out, before you can stop them, quoting your father. ‘’Only a soul with little imagination would find history boring.’’ Aegon stops sipping his drink, looking at you with newfound interest. But Aemond has become absolutely silent, a smile on his pink soft lips.

You forgot yourself for a brief moment. These men are above you. ‘’I-..’’

The younger prince talks, his rough but soft voice leaving his mouth. ‘’I concur.’’ He nods, even. ‘’What is your favorite piece?’’ He brings his champagne glass to his lips before taking a sip.

You watch, before answering the question. ‘’It’s a cliche, but Nymeria’s statues, the ones that have been constructed by her family.’’ You tell him, with a dismissive little laugh.

The prince does not agree with you. ‘’Is it a cliche, or is it a classic?’’ You are dumbstruck at that comment, feeling all your wit leave your body. He smiles, reassuring that he does not find your interests stupid. And that is something no one else did before. He in fact, takes the bait and asks you things. ‘’The one’s at Sunspear or the one’s at Dornegarden? Of course, a lot of smaller statues have been build all over Dorne to honor her.’’ You are impressed by his knowledge.

You nod. Dornegarden is on your bucket list. ‘’Dornegarden’s are my favorite. The statues are so immensely huge, as if she is a goddess looking down at you.’’ You describe it the way your father described it to you.

Beyond his shyness you can see a small smile appearing, gentle as a first snowflake in november. ‘’Ah, I can see why you like her. She was clever, fierce and beautiful too.’’ You blush, unintended. 

You know it is polite to ask, but part of you is dying to know. ‘’And yours?’’ Aemond opens his mouth but sadly, the pig that is his brother interrupts, ruining this precious moment and shutting Aemond up.

Aegon grins. ‘’He has a fascination for everything depressing, doomed and disastrous.’’ You try to think of a specific name that comes to mind. Isn’t all history depressing, dooming and disastrous, in certain ways? 

‘’Oryn.’’ Aemond mumbles, quietly.

You hear it perfectly. If he were in a crowd of thousand screaming men, you would hear it just as clear. ‘’Oryn?’’ You find that an interesting intriguing choice.

Aemond nods, his silver hair going up and down.‘’Yeah.’’

‘’I like his statues.’’ You tell him. His temple was destroyed by his usurper, the king’s brother, when Oryn was cut in pieces. The foul king took Oryn’s wife as well.

The prince takes a bigger sip of his champagne, his body language suddenly tense and clearly distressed. ‘’You don’t have to lie to me. I know no one really gives a fuck about him.’’ He mutters as if he hates himself for caring as much as he does.

You step closer to the prince before speaking your truth. ‘’I’m not lying, his story is a tragedy but it doesn’t mean that the story isn’t worth telling. It has betrayal, brotherly love, devotion and romance. How can you not love it?’’ You bring out your smartphone from your handbag, showing Aemond a few photo’s your father sent on his recent travels. ‘’They found his grave recently. My dad was there when they cut the rock open.’’ Aemond’s mood changes back from sullen to excited, to impressed, yet still reserved.

‘’No way.’’ He murmurs, looking at the little screen as if it’s a diamond. ‘’Your father leads the expedition?’’ He sounds impressed, and you blush.

You know the Dornish would never. Too long, Westerosi grave robbers from the Crownlands have taken Dornish artifacts. ‘’No, the Dornish lead it themselves. Father simply is invited, because he protects the art faithfully. The Dornish have closed him in their hearts.’’ 

Aemond understands that, still his eyes are glued to your phone, taking in every detail on the dark photo. ‘’Oh, yes, of course.’’

He mutters to himself.‘’Where did they even find this?’’

You tell what your father told you. ‘’A farmer found it. Apparently his son was playing and saw a crack in a rock. They rolled the rock away, revealing a cave. Inside the cave, there was his tomb.’’ The rest of the world seems to fade when you and Aemond talk, the worries and fears of not fitting in miles away.

He grins, smiling, letting out a little chuckle. ‘’I love that. I doubt his brother knew of it. His supporters must have made it, after Oryn was slain.’’ His brother would be Prince Razar, the brother of Prince Oryn, and Princess Farya.

He is an Oryn supporter, so perhaps he likes to hear this as well. ‘’Dad says they found traces of Queen Farya. Flowers were left. They withered, but they are testing the remains. They think they already know it are Dornish daisies.’’ You tell him.

The simple grin he lets out does something to your heart. ‘’Her favorite, according to many poems out of that time.’’ 

You nod. ‘’Yes, exactly.’’

Aemond becomes a little more serious, still rambling on, happy to finally have found someone, anyone that listens. ‘’Do you think that she was even allowed to visit her brother’s grave? Or out of the palace?’’

You think deeply before speaking. You avoid his gaze. ‘’Perhaps in secret? When people are meant to be together…’’

He answers without missing a moment. ‘’They will find a way.’’ You smile at one another, both lost in each other’s eyes.

He breaks eye-contact, nodding to the phone. ‘’This is certainly amazing. Thank you for showing me this.’’

You take back your phone, putting it in the handbag. ‘’Have you ever been in Dorne, my Prince?’’ You wonder. Aemond seems to slightly blush.

He nods. ‘’Yes, many times. I go as often as my duties allow me.’’ You inwardly sigh, delighted. That must be so wonderful.

The prince then turns to look at you. ‘’And you?’’

You shrug, a little playing with your handbag.‘’It’s a heartwish of mine.’’ You confess.

Aegon makes a strange sound, startling you as if he is about to puke any moment. ‘’Give me a fucking bucket.’’ he comments, grumpily you both ignored him for so long. You feel embarrassed and mocked.

Aemond’s smile dies and he is back to hiding his emotions. ‘’Aegon, perhaps you can go get a drink?’’ He suggest, sweetly. Aegon nods, taking off. Once Aegon is gone, he turns to you. ‘’I apologize for him. We had such a lovely conversation and now its ruined.’’ You nod, but part of you is worried the conversation isn’t allowed. 

You try to give him some advice, though. ‘’Don’t be. He is your brother, but you don’t control him.’’

He seems dumbstruck by those words, staring at his empty champagne glass. ‘’Hm. I’ve been apologizing for his behavior before I was old enough to walk.’’ He mutters.

You smile, faking a bit of a stern glare causing him to chuckle. ‘’Well, maybe you should stop apologizing.’’ You mean it. He is not responsible for Aegon.

The prince nods, as if you have given him a lot to think about. ‘’Maybe I should.’’

You notice the Prince, Jacaerys has joined you, listening in with his hands folded on his back. You notice the seahorse pin on his chest.‘’Ahum.’’

You dip in a curtsy. ‘’Your highness.’’

Jacaerys ignores you, staring at prince Aemond. ‘’Uncle.’’

‘’Nephew.’’

You notice another rivalry, unfolding right before your eyes. You wish to leave, right now.

Jacaerys speaks, his voice taunting but soft. ‘’Thank you for keeping Lady Y/n occupied when I spoke to the other ladies. It is her turn now, however.’’ Aemond lifts his chin as if he wants to speak, but changes his mind.

‘’Of course.’’ And with that, he lets you go. You turn on your heel, walking back to Aemond. ‘’It is always nice to talk with someone about history.’’ You thank him with that and smile. He doesn't smile. He does not even glance at you, anymore.

All you get is a vague, disinterested ‘’Hm.’’

The prince takes you with him, walking to the buffet before offering you a glass of champagne. ‘’Did he hurt you?’’

He casually asks between filling the glasses. 

You are confused. ‘’Who?’’

He shrugs, as if it's obvious. ‘’Aemond?’’

You become even more confused. ‘’No?’’

Jace leans in a little closer. ‘’You must know, it is inappropriate for any selected to have another lover. It can lead to disqualification or worse, punishment.’’ He warns you, kindly of that. You know he does not mean to harm or threaten you.

You nod, thankful but you do want to clear things up.‘’I didn’t know that. But Prince Aemond and me only talked about Dornish statues.’’ Not very romantic, so why does your heart beat so fast?

Jacaerys scoff. ‘’Statues?’’ You can see that Aemond is likely the only history buff in his family. That must be lonely.

You smile, telling him the same thing you told Aemond. ‘’Yes, in Sunspear-’’

But this time, you get a deep sigh before Jace even rolls his eyes. ‘’Don’t you want to talk about something more exciting?’’ He suggests. 

You feel as if you have been hit in the face. You feel rejected and foolish. ‘’Like what?’’

He shrugs. ‘’Most girls tell me of their house, or their horses.’’ Their horses? You hear yourself think, and its not a pleasant thought. How…dull? And all of them? You bet that Floris told them to bring it up.

You repeat after him. ‘’Horses?’’

‘’You don’t like horses?’’ He asks. Horses terrify you.

‘’I don’t dislike them.’’ You say and it's the truth. Horses are beautiful from a distance. You just don't want to ride them. Or talk about them. ‘’I don’t like talking about horses. I don’t want to have dull meaningless conversation with you.’’

Jace straightens his back. ‘’That is part of your job, should you become my queen.’’ You feel your lips hang in a sorrowful line and for the first time you wonder if this is what you really want.

Jace notices your mood change quickly. ‘’But it's alright. We can talk about something else too. What is your favorite sweet?’’

You nod, accepting his attempts at winning your heart.  ‘’I like cupcakes.’’ Jacaerys takes a chocolate cupcake for you from the impressive cake stand, looking at it very briefly, inspecting it before handing it to you. ‘’These are my favorites. I have yet to taste anything else that taste as good as these.’’ That sounds promising. You clumsily bite the cupcake off, tasting the surprisingly good white chocolate filling. It tastes as good as he said it would, and your argument from earlier vanishes as snow that is basked in sunrays. ‘’It is really good.’’ You say, licking your fingers off when you think no one is watching. Jacaerys is amused by your actions, before slyly doing the same. 

Jacaerys seems a bit nervous, before he sighs after you both have finished your cupcakes. ‘’I’m sorry for being a little mean about Aemond earlier. I’ve been hearing disturbing news about him and his brother. I don’t see you girls as my cattle or my livestock, but I do feel responsible. You are here under my roof, for me. You put up with etiquette and court rules for me, the very least I can do, is protect you from men that want to harm you.’’ You notice your gaze swift between Jace and Aemond, who is now talking with an unknown silver-haired woman in a luscious green gown. That must be Helaena.

You feel foolish you even entertained the prince that long, or talked with them. ‘’Do you think Aemond is that malicious?’’You wonder.

Jace does not need long to answer that question. ‘’I know he is. They both are. If you are important to me, he wants to destroy you.’’ You find that a little extreme but Jace’s stern glare tells you there is nothing funny about this. ‘’Just be careful, Y/N. That’s all I ask.’’ And you nod, obedient as a good girl would. But your gaze kept stealing peaks at the forbidden prince, however.

This is part one, for now.

I hope you all liked it

Its different than what i usually write.

Reblogs/comments are welcome!:))

[middle-ans]

I figured this would get asked for sure, but it hasn’t yet.

Major Lewis Nurse George please!!

Will you believe me when I say I feared this one, but also waited the most? Absolutely smashed me even though I have this particular idea sketched in my head from start to end, and zero chances surviving writing it. But it scratched the itch so perfectly, so thank you very much for asking! (3478 words, I knew it’d be one of the longest)

Also - tw war, tw mentions of blood and injuries, tw air raid alarms

October, 1940, Canterbury

Amidst all the human burdens, his personal sleep being absent for the third night in a row seemed ridiculous. George leaned his elbows on the desk piled with paperwork, rubbing his red eyes and sighing with fatigue. Another night shift, understaffed and they had exhausted the tea supply, waiting now for the next shipment by the end of next month, if they were so lucky. So far the wing had been uneventful, he sat at his post in the main hall, the hospital building looked like a separate battlefield with large rooms occupied by rows of beds and soldiers constantly arriving. No private wards for even a few people, they couldn't afford such a rarity.

The lamp on his desk blinked faintly before fading out entirely, and George held his breath, quickly shifting his clear gaze to the window. Quietly, even too much so, his lips fell open, moving soundlessly in an outline of counting - four, three, two, one. The hum of aircraft and the howl of the alarm siren was as always late, with the first deafening blast coming Omega was already under the table, shuddering with the entire building when a bomb was dropped a few dozen miles from the hospital. They remained almost untouched by most, a small building nearly at the edge of the city, but every so often George shrank into a ball and squirmed, wondering if this night would be an exception. He can hear the fiddling from the beds, triggered traumas screaming desperately in the throats of some of the soldiers, and as frightening as it is, Omega crawls out from under the only rickety shelter to run to their beds and offer a hand to squeeze, to claw at the faint connection to reality amidst the agony and quench the pain just a little. It's Private Peters, clutching at the bandage on his head that nurse notices will need to be changed as soon as the Luftwaffe are done with today's raid, and his old green eyes on a young twenty-year-old face one of the most striking displays of the madness they've been caught up in.

“Sh-h, it's okay Peters, you're in the hospital. I'll go over to the others for a bit and come back, alright? Don't look out the window, the flashes might annoy you.”

With a lingering warmth, George leaves him to run over to the other bunk, three further down the row from Peters, to Alan curled up in a ball and sobbing into the bend of his elbow.

“Now, now, no worries, I worked so hard to heal your arm and you ruined all the bandages by crumpling it under you.”

They must have thought he was resistant to such things, had developed an iron rod and shut off the heart, leaving only the head, but that was too far from the truth. George was trembling as much as they were, but having controlled his voice he was at least seemingly calmer, confidently promising them what was forbidden by any wartime ethic - safety.

“We've got warbirds coming in, lots of them,” Alex slipped past him in the aisle, darting off at a run. As the last German plane buzzed toward the sea, the bustle returned to the hospital in a triple storm of chaos. ��They said to vacate as many bunks as we can.”

“From where?” George scolds as he tosses a stack of folders and fixes his coat. Perfectly white, not for long apparently.

“You think I asked questions? Hurry up, I need sheets, preferably clean ones.”

And Alex wasn't lying by labeling the number as 'lots', because not since George joined the volunteers in the nursing society in late 1939 had he seen such an overflow of wounded in the scroll of a single night. All types of injuries he couldn't look at when he started, rips, burns, shrapnel, on his first such tour of duty with a dozen wounded after midnight he'd cried helplessly on the hallway floor, far from being able to help anyone, least of all himself. Now he clenched his teeth, holding his jaw stiffly in tension as he waltzed from one bed to another in the barely lit hall, the power having gone out as soon as the raid began. With any luck, it would be fixed by tomorrow night. Omega's breathing was infrequent and short, letting in blood odors in snatches while his head spun steadily from the density of the air, but George dared not complain. If he was given a choice of which ability to shut off while he worked, it would be hearing. Those screams would haunt him until his last day.

The sheets oozed dirt in no time, they weren't a first class hotel to have their patients complain about the quality of the fabric and its immaculate whiteness, so pushing a cart with first aid supplies and a kerosene lamp, George got the trembling in his fingers under control and kept working. Far past midnight, close to the first rays of dawn, the whole room finally fell quiet, the silence diluted by occasional quiet moans from the occasional bunks at different ends of the room, and Omegas around drifting exhaustedly from one bed frame to the next.

George sighed, straightening his gown and lowering himself into a chair next to the nearest bunk, lamp burning weakly on the bedside table where he'd placed it, and his attention followed tiredly over the soaked bandages around the arms of a man sleeping in a restless slumber. The nurse reached out to see if the soldier's fever had broken purely automatically, running his fingers under the black hair falling over the forehead. His eyebrows twitched at the touch, and George almost thought it best to leave the man alone, but his head reached up to follow the escaping warmth of Omega's fingers. The nurse blinked, returning the uncomplicated dance of the pads back to those rare patches of skin that were free of scratches and wounds. Above on the top of his head was a wisp of hair clumped together from congealed blood, the wound itself washed and sanitized, but that was probably the source of fever plaguing Alpha in his sleep. Alpha, no doubt, his scent seeped even through the deadly odor of the ward. Their job teaches them to be immune to things like weak instincts and primitive pleasures, such as sniffing a handsome man and blushing at the sight of him staring back at them. George examines his hand on the grayish sheets, the bandage applied hastily and carelessly, but the man begins to frown and flinch in his sleep so he's forced to take his fingers into the warmth of his palm and coax them there until Alpha exhales relatively calmly. Omega blinks tiredly, mindlessly rubbing his skin where it won't hurt, and Alpha's scent only flows more intensely into George's fluttering nostrils, the tartness of walnut wood and freshly cut grass in May, crisply breezy, an anomaly in their lost reality. He flinches when fingers embrace his own in return, and gently breaks their contact to attend to the bandage on his arm.

There is little pleasantness in this, he imagines, frowning sympathetically at the painful groans in the hoarse voice still unknown to him, trying to spare him what pain he can, holding the soldier's wrist and shushing him quietly while he removes the dirty bandages. He sometimes sang, barely audible, just mumbling a soft tune and it smoothed the wrinkles on the patients' faces, distracting them from what he was busying his mind with. George had to leave his bed to grab a bowl of warm water and clean gauze, blotting it and wringing it out to apply gently to the man's elbow. He protested louder, twitching in the sheets, and Omega tried desperately to quiet the agony, pressing his palm against his cheek and mumbling confused reassurances. Alpha breathed raggedly, poking his nose into his palm, and it was the only thing that allowed nurse to finish with the bandage, bent in an awkward position over the bed in the low light, fighting the man's disgruntled sighs every time Omega was forced to withdraw his palm and pick up the bandages with both hands. Just as he was finishing up with the first rays of dawn and the kerosene lamps burning out on leftover fuel, the soldier squinted his nose, fluttering eyelashes persistently and restlessly. George wasn't sure he'd be awake this early, and it could hardly be called consciousness - Alpha looked at him with a blurry stare, unaware of anything but what for some reason made the corners of his lips creep up his haggard face.

“Angel,” he wheezed, staring at George. “You're an angel.”

Omega sighed, they were all like that. Saw him in semi-conscious hot flashes and came back to fight it further in deep sleep, then sang odes to him of their love and gratitude until they were discharged, healthy and ready to return to the battlefield. He glanced at the uniform jacket hanging on the edge of the top headboard of the bed, a patch with a blood type and a rank stained with dirt that he couldn't make out, but George discerned the name - L. C. D. Hamilton.

“Sleep,” he whispers to him, adjusting the sheets over his undershirt, the cotton fabric in scarlet stains and three tiny buttons under his collarbones. “The fever should break by dinner.”

When Omega gets to the room on the second floor of the house he's rented by an old lady who sings in the church choir and occasionally helps out at the radio factory, his strength is enough to take a quick shower with the remnants of hot water and collapse onto the creaking bed in a dreamless sleep. He hears the rumble of sirens and can't make out if it's a scrap of his imagination or actually an alarm, but doesn't care either way, rolling over onto his other side and getting the last hour of sleep before it's time to get up and get ready for the next shift.

“Almost everyone's stabilized,” Alex jumps up from the chair at his post in the hallway as soon as he sees him pacing exhaustedly through the ward. “We're still short on blood, almost all the staff donated some more today, but I'm not going to ask you, you already look one step away from dropping dead in here. And we're short on nurses, so-”

“You're so encouraging, Alex,” Omega rolls his eyes, wrapping himself in a white coat from the closet of their small storage room, straightening the lapels and tying his belt. “Did they fix the power?”

“Yeah, but in an hour it'll be time to turn out the lights anyway - light cloaking and all that. Speaking of your looks - it still managed to catch someone's interest even in such a deplorable state. One soldier-”

“Oh, Alex,” George sighs tiredly, checking the previous shift's records. Not again.

“Called for you all the time in his sleep.”

“How do you even know it was me?”

“Angel,” Alex shrugs. “You're always Angel, darling, and he mumbled incessantly. Almost knocked poor Logan's eye out when he came over to change his bandages.”

George shakes his head stubbornly, but can't help but drift his thoughts to the man. Apparently the fourth night shift is working wonders on his guard.

“How is he?” the nurse asks quietly. “Has the fever gone down?”

“Go and check, it's your shift now, not mine,” Alex pushes him further down the row of bunks before rushing out towards the exit and waving goodbye.

George keeps his face emotionless as he walks through all the patients in the room, because there are no special ones, there are all of them, needing if not a bandage or injection, then at least a drop of sympathy in the middle of this pantomime theater. In the semi-darkness of the room, he doesn't notice when he walks over to the bed with a jacket on the headboard, sets down the lamp, and hops in place as his hand is grabbed, tugged insistently, something he's not quite used to in the emergency room.

“Oh for heaven's sake,” he breathes out, closing his eyes for a second to catch his breath. “Sir, you can't just-”

“Angel,” a glance, this time absolutely clear and unequivocal, lingered on him with sheer fondness and a glare of amusement, the man pulling himself up higher on the pillow. “So you weren't a vision? I thought I'd gone to heaven, since I saw you.”

George swallows, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and starting to unwind the bandages on the man's arm, slowly, and this time Alpha holds up much better, no gnashing of teeth or groans.

“Have you had the wound treated? With ointment, or just peroxide?” he asks as casually as possible while he feels the gaze of dark eyes solely on the side of his face turned toward the soldier.

“I think with ointment, too. Not as carefully as you did, of course.”

The nurse snorts, hiding a smile and blush behind the curls that have fallen over his forehead.

“You were barely here last night, with a fever and delusions. How can you remember what I did it?”

“I remember you singing,” Mr. Hamilton says, plainly and calmly, a confidence in his voice that is lacking in those brash flirtations of the younger soldiers. And they're probably a lot lower in rank than Alpha. “And if I may?”

George looks up cautiously, averting his gaze from the wound when the man takes his hand and opens his palm, pressing it against his own cheek. The tendons in Omega's neck tighten in tension, he feels a small tremor in his fingers where they are gripped between the soldier's light grasp and his cheek.

“Yes, I definitely remember that,” the man smiles, loosening his grip so George can bring his hand back to the bandages. Lost for words and lost for breath.

“Good thing you remember so much,” he flutters his eyelashes, finishing the knot on his forearm. “Strong. Means you'll be better soon.”

“Will you sit with me?” Alpha lets out brokenly, a second before the nurse would have gotten up and headed for the next bed. George opens his mouth to say he still has a lot of work to do, but the soldier grazes his fingers on the sheets with a sore hand, shivering against the warmth. “Please.”

Omega glances around the rest of the room - it's night, dark, and most are asleep, a few nurses walking past the beds to adjust pillows and bandaged limbs. He didn't really have any real reason to refuse, and hesitantly he agrees, moving to a chair to retain some modicum of willpower.

They talk until morning. Extremely negligent of George, he should've left the soldier to sleep, gone to the paperwork that littered the desk at the duty station, done something, but they just kept talking, hiding from the prying eyes of the other staff in the shadows of the dimmed lamp. George said that he had been orphaned in the first month of war after the raid on his home town, he didn't mention what it was exactly, and his sister had been able to catch the last ship to America, which he was incredibly glad about, but he was all alone and so had decided to devote himself to working at the hospital. Lewis had been in the army before the war, something to do with his father's silly insistence, and had had several successful sorties behind enemy lines in France, his careful choice of words and thoughtful narration suggesting a rank with a few badges on his epaulettes and men in his command. He was skilled at playing the piano and baking homemade bread with recipes from his mother's family. George giggled as the man described the intricacies of mixing dough, certain he'd never heard Alpha talk about cooking before. When with the peachy rays of the quiet dawn outside the window, no Luftwaffe raid this time, he yawned in the midst of his own mumblings, Omega glanced down and found Lewis sleeping peacefully, head bowed on the pillow a little uncomfortably, and mouth slightly open in quiet breathing. George leaned over, holding his neck under the bandage and correcting the dislodged fluff in the pillow, gently bringing Alpha's head back, smoothing the hair on the back of his neck.

He's discharged before George returns to the hospital the next time, fresh from a day off and having slept one normal night in what seems like months. He only nods to Alex, trying to smile as he did before, and goes on his evening rounds without long chats in the back room.

After about a week since he last saw Lewis, he finally gets the day shift. George is settling in at a table in the common room, filling out paperwork and reports as accurately as can be observed in wartime when the sunlight from the window is blocked by someone's shadow and he pulls away from files, frowning at the intrusion.

“Good afternoon, Nurse George,” a smile, almost devoid of the mesh of scratches on his face around, shines brightly to him from above, Lewis standing in the full glory of his uniform and with a cap on his head. “I was told I might find you here today, even during daylight hours.”

His hands are placed sternly behind his back, Alpha stands as steady as a ruler in the army-like poise of his posture, and George opens his mouth silently, unable to find anything to say.

“Lewis, it's good to see you're well,” he gulps, rising from a seat so as not to feel so tiny under the shoulder span of the army jacket.

“That's why I came, to thank you properly,” Alpha winds one of his hands behind his back forward, clutching the stems of a bouquet of wildflowers and holding it out for George. “I didn't know which ones you liked, figured we could start with these.”

Oh, in front of everyone, the wing will be buzzing about this forever. Omega hears the commotion and giggles behind the man's back, blushing awkwardly under his scrutiny, but Alpha takes a step closer, blocking his view of the fiddling behind. Having no idea what else he could have done, George takes the bouquet into his hands, briefly meeting the stroke of Lewis' warm fingers' touch and lowering his eyelids immediately in humble awe.

“Thank you, that's quite unnecessary. It's my job, after all. No one gives you flowers for your service, for instance.”

Alpha smiles, tilting his head to pick up the visor of his cap and pull it off, revealing black hair styled back. Out of habit, George studies the spot where the wound was with a quick glance - it all looks healed and barely bothers the man.

“I think it's very much necessary. Might ward off some of the pushy admirers? Peters, you're expected at the barracks as early as tomorrow, so don't think about taking up residence here for long,” it's a misterie how his voice jumps from softness and reserved ease to iron command, Alpha turning around for a moment to glance at the subordinate in the row of bunks. “Are you enjoying music, George?”

“Music?” Omega blinks confusedly, shaking his head in a lack of comprehension.

“The pub near City Hall is having a dance this weekend. If it doesn't interfere with work, I'd like to say I'd be happy to see you there. The wine at Bert's isn't the most exquisite, but I'll make sure a case from our stock is delivered.”

Pulse racing ahead of his heart's capabilities, George swallows thickly, not knowing where to find the answer.

“He's free this weekend,” Logan rounds on his figure, hurrying from the entrance to his turn to make rounds. “I'm on duty Friday, have you forgotten?”

No, he'd absolutely seen the schedule, and this Friday was George's, but Logan winks at him and disappears into the pile of huddled white coats, hurrying them back to work.

“Well, then,” Lewis cleared his throat, viewing him like a tangled mechanism of an armored car gears. “I'll see you there, I suppose?”

The man nods at him with his chin knowing exactly the angle and duration in which it should linger, leaving George and allowing him to finally fall back into his chair, exhaling heavily.

“A whole Major, Georgie!” Alex slams a palm on the table, scaring the hell out of him. “Bringing you flowers and claiming his rights in front of this bunch of silly young Alphas, huh? Oh, I'll lend you my tweed pants for Friday and you will undo two buttons of your shirt, you hear me?”

[bl00dn0t3-x3]

👑cody's intro ˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

this will continue to be updated :) also i have a tree

backup account: @bl00dn0t3-backup2

vent account: @bl00dn0t3-venting

𐕣 name: Cody, but you can also call me Logan or any other name in my pronouns.page <3

♇ pronouns: he/him +neos (found also in my pronouns.page)

𐕣 age: 16

♇ gender: complicated and unclear so i just say i'm a dude lol

𐕣 orientation: GAY and aroacespec :3

♇ disorders:  i have AuDHD and anxiety! other little ones (not disorders, they’re like unfortunate add-ons) are low self esteem and depressive tendencies :P

𐕣 fun facts: my special interests are my OCs (character creation/design and storytelling) and the riordanverse :3 i’m a child of hades, legacy of nemesis. i’m just another wannabe prince, grim reaper, magical boy and doll 🤭 i'm half white and half black :P

♇ claimed anons: 🪤anon, 🌹anon

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𐕣 favorite color: blue, yellow and red

♇ favorite bands: set it off, point north and pierce the veil! i also love stray kids and utsu-p :) on a similar note, my fav vocaloid is luka <3 teto is my fav utau

𐕣 favorite songs: social suicide (point north), artificial suicide (bad omens), mad (tx2 and ice nine kills)

♇ favorite anime: jujutsu kaisen, chainsaw man, RWBY, sword art online, the asterisk war

𐕣 favorite book: the entirety PJO and HoO series...

♇ favorite game: i have the most hours on SAO: fatal bullet, RWBY: grimm eclipse and hades (in that order). i also rly like arcaea and phigros (rhythm games)

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

𐕣 byi: i reblog/interact with some pretty triggering stuff, sometimes i talk abt sh and ig kinky-ish stuff? (ex. 'i want satoru gojo to choke me’ and shit along those lines :P)

♇ dni: general dni criteria (homophobic, transphobic, racist etc.), anti-xenogenders/anti-neopronouns, proshippers (srsly stay tf away from me), 27+ (26 and below is fine idrc who interacts with me most of the time), anti-recovery, pro-forced recovery (you might even disgust me more than anti, but that might just be cuz i was forced into recovery), ppl that encourage ppl to (start) sh/ed/etc, z00s (they're gross, have a problem and need therapy more than any of my non-z00 mentally ill friends. if you're a z00, get help.), transID (gods, those ppl disgust me bigtime)

𐕣 pls interact: jirai, sh, obslove

♇ boundaries: sexual jokes about/towards me are a NO, otherwise creepy messages are fine (beware 🪤anon tho), DMing me without asking is fine, spamming asks is fine as long as you're actually saying something, spam-liking is fine, stalking and general obsession is encouraged.

this blog is safe for most people!!!

(cluster a/b/c, furries, therians, age-regressors etc)

intro template used

pronouns.page

airbuds

[space-station-nursery]

🛰️⸝⸝Welcome to the Space Station Nursery 🪐

☆ ・Personal info ! ˖ ˒

🦊Little Dipper︰Hi! im Finn, also Finnegan, finny fox, fishy finn, and more to my closest friends and moots! Im 21 and my pronouns are They/Them! My timezone is CST. I like Bubby, jay, baking and cooking, playing games, reading (by myself and with bubby) making decor stuff and making custom things! Blues clues !!! if you see a blues clues ask from an anon, its probably me.

Dislikes︰I HATE Bugs, bugsbugsbugs. Being confronted(confrontation), purposely being misgendered, having my boundaries disrespected, bubby or jay being purposely misgendered, bugs and uh-…. i think thats it lol

🦌 Big Dipper︰Hi im FD, im 21 (22 in august) and my pronouns are He/Him. My timezone is MST. I LOVE BABI BEAR, our friends, gaming, cars, anything that has moving parts, reading and watching crime stuff, watching movies and playing games with babi and our friends, and really love the flash as well!

Dislikes︰I dont like icky people coming to talk to babi and i (i dont really like talking to people in general), People misgendering babi or my friends or being rude towards them, and i dont like when people disrespect my boundaries I also dont like the idea of sitters because so many people in the community that we have encountered have bad intentions, but there's nothing else i can think of rn

☆ ・Space station boundaries ! ˖ ˒

Combined︰We are engaged and not seeking romantic or platonic littles/cgs! Dms open for anyone +16 or -26. If interested, interact with our posts, as random messages can be uncomfortable. If you would like to be moots/friends, please at least interact with our posts first

🦊Little Dipper︰Please use tonetags when directing asks towards me. Please Ask before DM-ing me on my personal blog @babis-little-corner and i will let you know! If you notice I interact with something not SFW, please let me know! Do not use any nicknames in asks/dms unless we are close/moots. My CG doesn't appreciate people we are not close with trying to call me things like "little one" "cutie" etc, and quite Franky neither do I...

🦌 Big Dipper︰Please Do not ask me to be your cg, I’m Happily caring for Finn and only Finn, I don’t have all that many boundaries just don’t do anything that’s gonna upset Finn and you’re alright with me!

☆ ・Dark Matter DNI ! ˖ ˒

Whats a DNI? These are "Do not interact" boundaries, this means that if your blog meets any of these criteria you may be blocked\banned\removed from a persons socials. Below are my DNI's so make sure to read them!

・Are anti-agere/agedre(or petre/petdre), an NSFW blog/"SFW" kink blogs like Dd!g/abd!/md!b and other variants. Are an 18+ only blog, Terf, etc. Anything that you would not show a child does not belong here ・Bigoted individuals or peoples that believe in Anti-LGBTQIA+, Pro-ana, Pro-SH, Anti-recovery, MIKs or MAPs, Extreme left/right views, Pro-life, Pro-war, transmed, Pro-mia, Anti-Neos/Xenos. ・Over the age of 27. While you could be a regression blog, and completely SFW, individuals over the age of 27 can become a trigger due to my PTSD. Minors are always welcome, although we will most likely not follow back ・Are a blank blog. This means no banner, profile pictures, posts or names. Blogs like those tend to become a problem and we don't wish to deal with it.

We will block liberally

☆ ・Rover Regression info ! ˖ ˒

🦊 Little Dipper︰I am a flip-leaning regressor, regressing from 0-4. I am a sleepy but bubbly regressor, mostly using items like pacifiers. Despite my trauma, I can regress for small periods of time while assisted, but its a great start and hopefully when FD and I live together it'll boost my regression more!

🦌 Big Dipper︰I am Finns CG, and I love my babi bear! I do everything I can to make sure they feel safe and comfy here when regressing, as well as when they aren't

Sitter views︰We do not see sitters as something either of us would want to be apart of unless it was us sitting for/being sat by someone we know very well. My current sitter is @sleeplessjunkie Who generally just regresses with me when bubby is gone while we play games !!!! We will either talk a lot or not at all, and thats ok bc talk is hard! (we're both autistic)

☆ ・Solar System Sillies ! ˖ ˒

Posting schedule ish︰(Finn has a problem with keeping ideas up, so im going to try and reduce the amount of things being posted by me!)

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🛰️ ⸜ ⸜ Thank you for reading! - The space station team ! (tags below)

[maryland-officially]

If there's something triggering, could you guys tag it with 'DNI littles' or 'no littles'?

I think this could be a tag for any system with littles -- but basically, tag anything that is:

(TW below, but no descriptions or imagery)

1. Violent. (Gore, war related)

2. SH or ED related

3. R@pe related

4. Reblog bait - eg. "Reblog or" poste

5. Vents

6. Negative talk, as in 'maybe this isn't worth it' -- anything really concerning

7. Racism, syscourse, homophobia, anti endo post, proship

8. Anything uncomfortable

9. NSFW

10. Anything you'd be afraid of a 5 year old seeing

[undersakit]

{ ...The War...}

-UnderSakit Prologue-

Trigger Warning/TW;

°may be disturbing

°mentions of SH (self-harm)

°mentions of gore and death

Hope you enjoy \[•^Π^•]/

The war ragged on as the sounds of swords and weapons alike collided, sweat and blood poured into each strike and perry. Even as they grew exhausted from the constant battle, they wouldn't give in to their opponents, their pride and honour keeping them from showing mercy or holding back. Holding themselves together as they held their stance high. A barrage of arrows rained down upon the unfortunate ones below, each and every archer there, stood behind thick metallic shields that were held by heavily armoured soldiers. The rim of the shield has a slight curve to set their advantages straight. The sounds of metal scraping the granite-mix below each step the backup soldiers took. Spells were tossed around, their blasts loud and increasingly terrifying to the naked eye, the impact caused everything in its range to be buried in burning light until it was all but ash, it was all too much causing many misfortunes to befall to both their opponents and themselves. It weakened the trees until they bear no fruit any longer with their leaves withering whilst the others fell and succumbed to the harsh environment. The smell of rot and decay evident in the air, the land suffered by the flames of the ongoing war. Both tribes were aware of the damage they caused, the lives that were lost due to their doing, however.. they seem to be more focused on winning against the opposing group, without showing mercy or giving the other a chance to redeem their own misdeeds, staying oblivious to the damage they have caused. It was.. chaos...

The war rarely had any survivors, and if there were.. they were found collecting everything that was left from their homes, searching for any supplies or recourses that could help them in such a dire situation. Though, no matter how one struggled or tried, if they cannot fight, they're killed on the spot. Pitiful if I may, the corpses of children and adults piling up day by day, diseases spreading as the air grew thick with greed for power. It was.. a cruel act of torture, the corpses weren't buried or burned and weren't respected, just thrown to the enemy's boundary to spread the disease there. Oh how cruel do you think war can get? The cries of children who deeply feared death as rivers of tears poured out of mothers who lost their children, fathers who cannot see their family until it was all over? Dear, it was just like a silly game the Lords played with.

No one would be spared, the only thing both sides desired was the death of their opponent, no matter how many children died, no matter how they destroyed each other's lives and homes, all they wanted was for it to end. However, their actions could never be accepted by their own citizens. Monsters feared being killed since they were weaker than humans, tears of dread came to their eyes, even if they tried and calculated every attack, it always ended up with more losses than winnings. The humans always had the upper hand because of their DETERMINATION... That's when they grew a more.. efficient way of ending it all.

Each human soul they would obtain, they would absorb it before it would shatter. Each time they did it, they grew stronger and more vigilant of their surroundings, their eyes sharpening and height slightly changed. New abilities but.. it was accompanied with a price. Their souls will weaken significantly and eventually crack. Their sanity slowly fading, the memories they have will be forgotten, hearing voices, and the most common, suicidal thoughts... It was odd for such to happen, but they do as these symptoms, due to the increasing guilt they'll experience every kill or every second of their lives, the voices and screams of the dead humans.. echoing continuously into their heads. Making every second of the day like living hell. A cycle of guilt and pressure being pushed onto them until they break.

Due to the blood spilt upon the ground, the rivers upon rivers of blood with piles of corpses rotting, the environment grew.. oddly as well. Flowers sprouted amongst these mountains of decay, their beauty unmatched to any flower many have seen.. yet..... it wasn't safe to just touch it. The flower was poisonous and deadly, inhaling its pollen is highly toxic, being around it was already a problem. But instant death to whoever ate it.... What a beautiful flower.

[basicallymydiary09]

Saturday 18/3/23

10:38 pm

I forgot my notes password so now I have lost 3 months worth of my feeling. Anyway today we went to the festival and (Cousins name) was there and the whole time the only thing she said to me was that I could use her hair tie, like we were meant to be close but the whole time her and che were together. She even bought both of my brothers lunch while I had to babysit. I just wanted a relationship with my cousin but ever since the “tiktok” incident (i outed my self) happened she hasn’t been talking to me at all. Even at the dentist she was so awkward with me like she was gonna catch something off me. I have a feeling she told (My brothers name) to bc even he was acting weird. I felt so fat today especially when I was near (my cousins name) bc she is so skinny, I wish I was skinny but I’m not. I’m fucking fat and weigh 83kj. I think my ED is coming back bc I felt weird eating today I even took my pills without eating (was a bad idea) I just don’t like food anymore. Anyways I’m still getting SH thoughts but I have no one to talk to or about bc they will just judge me, like when mum said she was gonna tell dad I was SH again when I was 3 months clean, ever since then everything went down hill with my mental health after the first one. In beautiful boy it says that relapses is a part of recovery but I don’t feel like I have recovered. I still wanna kms all the time, I still wanna starve then binge. i feel so fucked up all the time

[simp-ly-writes]

A Shadow Company Visit (pt.4)

PSA: This can be read as a standalone.

Pairing: Commander Philip Graves x Reader & Shadows

Summary: What happens when you get kidnapped?

Warnings: 1500 words, ANGST with a HEA. a bit of overprotective themes, mentions of children.

A/N: We are in for a long one folks with this chapter, thank you @unicorngirly1, for the ideas!! it appear that this series just keeps on giving ahahaha; my asks are open as of the publication of this chapter for those with ideas as well!

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

A Shadow Company Visit Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) you are here

↳ Waving the driver goodbye, you enter the home and lock the door behind yourself, a beep sounds as the door opens and closes: signalling your entrance.

↳ Getting your child ready for bed, you curse underneath your breath as you notice a light left on in the bathroom. Thankfully Philip was not tonight home to see this since it was a major pet peeve of his

↳ Removing their little shoes and socks as they stir slightly when changing them into their nightwear, you flick the baby monitor on alongside some white noise before tip-toeing out of the room so you could bunker down for the night as well

↳ Placing your phone on to charge on your nightstand you undress, wash yourself up and place yourself into some home clothes before making your way downstairs. The security system beeps to your presence once more as you cross over the front door sensor and make your way towards the kitchen

↳ Feeding the dog alongside yourself, you finish your day by sneakily watching the next episode of some reality TV show you and your partner were addicted to before finding yourself falling asleep on the couch with the dog laying at your feet

↳ Yet unknowingly, as you were sleeping a group of masked figures triggered the alarm system that night- waking you up with an abrupt fright to the beeps as your dog roared to attack, their past training flooding their system before they fell to the floor and you heard yourself scream in tune with your child upstairs

↳ Your hands went to secure the gun taped underneath the coffee table, Philip had placed various weapons around the house for a moment like this yet he was not there that night as your limbs got tied together and a bag was placed over your head, the system beeped one last time upon your exit

--

↳ Philip was on a mission with task force 141, left unknowing as to the panic that had been brewing at the headquarters awaiting his return

↳ Shadows move around in a panicked state, preparing for a war; The night patrol that was supposed to secure the perimeter of the commanders home-lot had not returned alongside the assisting squad sent later in the night and as the higher-ranking unit appeared, the situation and the child kneeled over in grief from atop the stairs had spelled destruction and overwhelming grief amongst the Shadows

↳ Many of the high ranking shadows were already praying as they awaited the commanders outburst. Yet the mental torture of trying to stabilize the dog found in the home while sending the child to the hospital over their minor bruises was already taking a toll and would forever outweigh anything else coming their way

↳ The intelligence service teams were already working overtime as they called in a favour from the British SAS and to say that Laswell lost her shit on them was an understatement over her best friend...

↳ As Philip shook hands with Farah as another mission was completed successfully, smiling and giving his fellow Shadows each a pat on the back alongside some words of praise they all cheered while boarding the plane for the ride back

↳ Yet Graves stopped when he heard your name being yelled down the phone line by Laswell, he knew something had to be up and as she blew up on him for not protecting you better, the commanders eyes darkened as he took in Kates outburst while he strapped himself into communications while boarding the plane set for home

↳ "Shadow-01 how copy? Shadow-01? Commander? Commander Graves Sir?!" The voice yelled down the line, pure panic stricken in their vocal cords.

↳ "This is Shadow-01"

↳ The line goes silent as dread hangs in the air as Graves' mind floods with possibilities and images of pure horror flash to the surface as he grips the gun tighter to his chest

↳ "Commander... we have your child in recovery alongside the dog. Both are alive and breathing. Your partner... hasn't been located since 19:00..."

↳ The information laughs mockingly in Philips face as he cannot believe what he heard earlier to be true, looking around the plane, all shadows refuse to make eye-contact with their commander as they witness pure rage overcome his form

↳ "FUCK" is screamed in distain as the commander rips off the headset and breathing becomes laboured. His chest rig feels all too tight against his form as does the metal of the seat digging into his thighs and then coldness rushes over his entire being

↳ Placing the headset back on with a whiplash of emotional outburst to downright composure, the commander signals back to headquarters, "I want a full report as soon as I am off with god-damn plane, not one detail misplaced with Laswell and her crew waiting in the boardroom. Shadow-01 out."

--

↳ Once arriving back on base a hoard of members are awaiting for their Commander, papers in hand and speeches, they get Philip back up to date as he rallies squads together, addresses the intelligence services and suits up in angered silence waiting to strike

↳ They had to wait until night for the technical advantage, and to say that the commanders wait was restless would be an understatement, this man was pacing up and down the halls and punching walls, ripping apart his desk while sitting and silently crying at your own as he bandaged his shaking hands

↳ The watch you gifted him beeped as he stood up from his chair and hurriedly marched over to the awaiting vehicles. Slapping the roofs car thrice and wheels spun out the gate that he didn't have the heart to laugh fondly in remembrance at

--

↳ The cleaning of the alleged house was swift as was Graves deadly precision, their pleads for forgiveness fell on dead ears as he calmly made his way through the house, Shadows following his every order as task force 141 shook the place in search of the ringleader

↳ Entering the office space, Graves sees red as you have a guns barrel pointed into your skull as the grip your hair, moving your body into their compliance

↳ Your captor opens his mouth, showing the yellow teeth and chapped lips that were soon overridden with blood as a shot rang out in the room, another followed soon after through their heart as you partner didn't have the patience to hear any of it

↳ Your legs gave out for under you as the final shot was placed. Your skin being corrupted with blood as Philip shoved his gun into an awaiting Shadows hands as he knelt down beside you and signalled for the team to secure the perimeter of the house for evac

↳ You reached your hand up to his face, unlocking his helmet as it fell on to the floor, your bloodied hand rushed to settle his hair in comfort as his eyes closed and he moved to kiss your palm

↳ Taking some supplies from his vest, he cleaned your hands and wiped your face of the blood it held, apologizing softly as you winced from the bruising that had formed from the captors strong hold on you

↳ Helping you to stand, you wobbly made your way to the doorframe, holding it to steady yourself before becoming swept off your feet by the commander, the Shadows waiting by the door smiled brightly at you as you gave them a small thumbs up causing them to chuckle back at you

↳ Being placed in the back of the SUV, you saw Laswell with her arms wide open awaiting your presence. A tear falling softly down her cheek as she felt you in her arms, whispering how thankful she was that you were still in her life

↳ While being checked up on at the hospital, Philip refuses to leave your side as you pressure him into taking basic meals and a shower, guilt eating him alive as his memories flash back to those moments.

↳ In the meanwhile, task force 141 hand you a plethora of kind messages both through texts and letters for your speedy recovery, Laswell is happily taking over as godmother- watching over yours and Philips child and dog happily

↳ The Shadows place balloons, flowers and other small offering around your room as a couple stand watch outside and move on rotation even though their commander has asked them to take their leave many times by now, you feel loved by their devotion to protect

╰┈➤ A/N: thank you all for the support on this series!

A Shadow Company Visit Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) you are here

[smytherines]

assorted spyverance thoughts (guess who woke up and decided to rewatch severance)

- Devon (Mark's sister) said that Mark had a flask etched with the words "whiskey is life," and he takes a drink out of a flask after Ricken's dinner-without-dinner event. So now I'm definitely imagining that Curt has a "whiskey is life" flask

- it seems like there is some subconscious thing still connecting the innies and outies, we have Irving's paint dreams/visions, and Mark with the scented candle. So I wonder if Curt M. hallucinated Owen before he even met Owen C. If he kept seeing visions of some vague shadowy figure out of the corner of his eye and wondering if he was losing his mind. I don't imagine Owen sleeps much (or takes care of himself like. At all), so would Owen C. occasionally fall asleep at his desk and have strange visions of fire and smoke and falling?

- just had a very clear, awful little daydream about Helly's elevator cord attempt but with curtwen. Just imagine Curt M. desperately trying to hold up Owen C.'s body while screaming for help. Once they take Owen C. away he just absolutely breaks down sobbing in the stockroom or whatever, gasping for breath, being very violently triggered by it in a way he can't understand. Maybe his outie had finally stopped having nightmares about the fall, but after Owen C's attempt they come back even worse than before, and Curt has no idea why?

And how would Owen respond to the elevator cord incident? I mean canon Owen hides himself away post-fall, strips away his identity and humanity in the form of DMA. But maybe spyverance Owen kinda does the same thing-- creating a new him with no real history or identity.

Except canon Owen is implied to be living as DMA all day every day for months, maybe even years. Long enough to gain notoriety under the DMA name. How would a severed Owen Carvour cope? Sure he would have Owen C., not have to experience half his days. But the rest of the time he would still be himself. Would that be better, because he still has a tether to his (admittedly twisted and fucked up) humanity that canon Owen doesn't have? Would it be worse, because mentally he cannot cope with having to be Owen Carvour instead of getting to disappear into a character?

I lean towards Owen using Owen C. as some fucked up experiment in self-harm. Seeing Owen C. as a thing, a tool, an avatar of the man he used to be. Punishing the part of himself that is able to forget. So after Owen C. tries to kill them, I think Owen would be outraged and double down on the cruelty. That in his own horrible way, he believes that Owen C. is the lucky one, that he's actually doing a benevolent thing by ~allowing~ him to forget the fall, so he views Owen C. waging war on him as like an spoiled, ungrateful child who needs to be punished

- I don't know if anyone else is a Lost fan, but my vision for reintegrated Tatiana is kinda like the Lost episode The Constant. That not only does she want to take down Chimera and save her friend, but in some way Curt helps to keep her from totally disintegrating mentally, because she knows him in both her severed and unsevered life. In Lost, The Constant is a mentally unstuck in time episode, and the only way to prevent your brain basically melting into goo is to find a person you knew at multiple points in your own personal timeline, as a sort of anchor to reality.

Also I like the idea of stripping that character of the Woman With the One Brain Cell stereotype and really allowing her to be as fucked up and damaged as she should have been in canon. Probably the most fucked up out of anyone, actually, especially in spyverance, because she's untethered from her personal timeline, shifting between severed and unsevered, adult and child, repressed and traumatized. Just... lots of fun (horrible) things to do there

- ALSO!! Evil scientist Barb Larvernor, who (like her boss) sees humanity as secondary to technological advancement. Using the severed floor she controls as her lab. She comes up with conditioning via the break room. She tests how the severance procedure is holding up by orchestrating Wellness sessions. She does... whatever they do down on the testing floor. But also we could incorporate real world CIA shit as well. MKULTRA style experiments, LSD and mescaline and other psychoactive drugs.

Owen is focused on results for his surveillance program (which in my head is what MDR is doing down there), but he's willing (and later becomes eager) to torture the innies to get the results he wants.

Imagine Barb spending the day torturing Owen C. down on the severed floor, and at night riding the elevator up to Owen Carvour's office to give him a full report. Would she be unnerved by his indifference and eventually glee at his own torture? Would she respect him for, in her view, being so committed to the project and the cause that he's willing to subject a different version of himself to these experiments? Would she just appreciate that he has faith in her capacity as a Lady Evil Scientist in a male-dominated field? Would they develop a fucked up friendship, or be frenemies, or grow to despise each other?

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi!! How would König react to his Engel having sh scars? I know this is a sensitive request, feel free to ignore it 🫶

Aw I don't mind but thank you for being sensitive 💞 😘

Please skip dear readers if this is triggering for you 🩷

König will notice your scars soon, if not immediately. He knows every old bruise and cut and scar on his skin and the stories behind them, his body is a whole map of old wounds, war, and torment. Therefore he pays close attention to other people's scars.

He won't bring them up too soon out of discretion, but they make him sad, upset, and angry. He knows they are self-inflicted, and the hurt it sends in his heart is maddening because he wants to hurt the ones who have made you hurt. But what to do when you have hurt yourself…?

He eventually asks about them to root out the one guilty for your pain. It must be someone else's fault that you have resorted to cutting yourself.

"Engel, are these… have you hurt yourself?" He asks the question one day when you two are cuddling. He deliberately brings his fingers to your scars and brushes a touch over them to make it known that he sees you… All of you.

"It was... years ago," you answer with a mixture of unease, shame and sadness in your gut. It's never easy to talk about them, and besides, people usually settle for simply staring at them. They rarely if ever mention them or ask about them.

It's not the same with König, because there's no need for facades. He never shies sway from challenging topics. He can talk about gutting people with a trench knife and licking you until you make the cutest sounds – and talk about them almost in the same sentence – so why would discussing self inflicted harm be a taboo subject for him?

"Did someone make you sad?" He demands to know, and you spend the next thirty minutes assuring König that you were simply feeling horrible and desperate and there's no one to blame for it (even if there were, you would be reluctant to tell him because you know it would only make him bounce off the bed and start a manhunt).

It feels both good and bad to open up about your past, the heavy depression you went through. It's an oddly charming therapy session that ends in your therapist pulling you tight against him. You have a feeling that this man who, distortedly enough, loves the exact tools you used to cut yourself with actually understands you better than any therapist ever could.

What breaks your heart, however, is when König hugs you and sighs: "I wish I had been there when you needed me." His attempts to fix the past, present and future is heartrending, but this was a fight he couldn't win – it was yours, and you had to go through it alone.

"Angel... I know how it feels to hate yourself. You must come to me if you're feeling angry or sad. Ja?" His words are blunt and straight to the point. König never sugar-coat things, but that's what you love about him. He sees the beauty in mundane, ordinary things, he sees meaning even in despair. He says how it is, and you know he's a connoisseur in that area – self-hate, that is. You fully believe him when he says he's not a stranger to pain. In that realm, you share a bond.

Then he begs you to promise him to never hurt yourself again. If you're feeling sad, you must come to him so that he can help you. He will always remind you of your worth if you'd happen to forget it.

There's no need for tears, not when he's here. You feel an odd, peaceful calm in your soul, laying there in his arms after revealing the deepest pits of your hell to him. He's not afraid of your darkness at all. He even kisses those scars, and that's when your lashes begins to flutter along with your heart. He whispers loving things on your skin, kisses your wounds with love, the same wounds people have simply stared with pity, confusion, and ridicule.

[jasminumdew]

Say you remember me (Part 1)

John Price x reader

Words: 1,1k

Summary: The first time you see John, it triggers a terrifying vision and a gut-wrenching feeling you can’t brush off. But the pull of your heart towards him is too tempting to ignore. Especially when he looks at you so tenderly like he’d known you before.

Warnings: large age gap (John: 39, reader: 20), angst?, next life, reincarnation, death, probably bad English (I’m so sorry)

Notes: hi :3 I want to improve my writing skills so every constructive feedback is welcomed. Tysm for enjoying my writing. I’ll try to be more productive, hopefully at least one fic per week instead of one every two weeks.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Wednesday afternoon, as usual, not many customers visit your café as other days of the week. You sigh, cleaning the counters to kill some time. Betty, your staff turns on the small television and switches channels out of boredom. “Any suggestions?” 

You look up to see a documentary of wars playing on TV, then quickly glance down, “Anything but that, Bee. You know I’m terrified of guns and blood, yeah?”

She gives you a side hug and quickly apologizes “Oh sh- I didn’t notice. I’m soooo sorry”

You smile to ease her, then the doorbell tinkles right after she switches to some K-pop music channel. “I got this”, you told her, smiling brightly at the new customer.

Before you knew it, white vision flashed in front of your eyes and the ringing in your ears appeared. For a moment, you think you’re going to faint. But your vision quickly comes back, only that you’re not in the coffee shop anymore. The dim yellow light over the pastry counter turns into a white field of snow, the doorbell which rings cheerfully is now silent, your ears only picked up on the sound of the howling wind, those forget-me-not flower pots you’ve just watered this morning shifts its form into dried branches of trees, almost hidden by the thick snow around you. Your body is all numbed, and you already know what you’ll see when you glance down. It’s always the same, no matter how many times you experience this. 

“Darling?” 

You snapped back into reality by his voice, and there you are, still behind the counter. The pink half-apron was twisted in your hands as if it were a grip to real life, grounding you to not drift away any further into this hallucination.

Gosh, you couldn’t be more relieved you got out of there just in time, yet to see that horrifying view. You had dreamed about that place so many times since you were just a child, and every time it happened, you woke up in the middle of the night, sweating and crying uncontrollably. You never knew why you had this constant nightmare, your mom said it’s best to ignore it and go about your days, so you did just that. However, it has never gone this far, it’s like you were pulled into another reality, your face still freezes from the cold and the smell of fresh blood lingers in your nostrils.

Stop. It was just some illusion, okay? Just ignore it like always and focus. Your eyes shift to the man behind the counter, who’s waiting for you to take his order for god knows how long now. 

“Hi. Oh gosh, I’m so so sorry, sir. I was distracted. Ca-” 

Before you can finish your words, your eyes meet, and your heart squeezes in pain like it’s being wrung like an old rag. Tears keep pouring out, then your voice is stuck by a lump forming in your throat, if you stay here any longer, it’ll surely turn into a full-on sobbing in the middle of the café. 

A warm hand reaches out, wiping your wet cheek, if your mind was any clearer, you would have avoided his touch. But your heart flutters and beats eagerly in your rib cage, yearning for him - a stranger you just met. Maybe it’s tears making your eyes see things that are not there, but if you had a mirror, you would swear that his eyes must be just as red as yours right now. 

Your senses suddenly come back and you immediately retreat from him. Mumbling a quick “sorry”, you run off to the staff room to collect yourself after telling Betty to take your place. You can hear him calling out your name right before the door closes. After you’ve finally calmed down, the realization hits, your name tag was left behind in your apartment today. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── 

You closed the café early that day, mentally drained from all the tears and mood swings. On your way home, you can’t help but get carried away by the weird interaction this afternoon. Maybe you need to have a check-up with either a neurologist, a therapist, or whoever can fix your fucked up brain. Too busy with the noisy thoughts in your head, you bump your head into a broad and firm chest, letting out a surprised squeak.

“Should’ve paid attention to your surroundings, dove” 

The man speaks up before you get the chance to apologize, his voice warm and low, one glance and you can recognize that thick beard and kind blue eyes immediately. 

“Oh…I’m sorry, sir. For leaving so abruptly at the café, too. I was…ill” You come up with a lie quickly.

“It’s John, love. Are you feeling well now? I thought that I terrified you.” His brows knit together like he’s genuinely worried about you, or your perception of him, you don’t even know.

It’s such a relief when those visions don’t come back during your conversation now, but the tingles in your heart are getting stronger and more constant as if wanting to tell you something.

You chuckle: “I feel better now, thank you. And no, you didn’t do anything wrong, no need to worry”

John returns a warm smile: “Good to hear that, love”. Gosh, this man and his pet names, if you’re being honest, it feels right somehow, the way it brings comfort to your heart when he says it. 

Either he can read your mind, or you’re a freaking talented manifestor, because you couldn’t believe it when he asks “Would you like to go on a date with me? I erm…was on my way back to the café to give you this” 

You’re quick to stop your eyes from getting teary again while receiving a bouquet of poppies from him, “This is too nice, sir. Thank you, it’s my favorite flower”. You choose not to say his name, being a polite woman as you are, it seems disrespectful to say it when you have just met, besides, he doesn't seem to pay attention to it.

“I know” he mumbles under his breath, not to reach your ears. Yes, you admit, he has some strange behaviors, like looking at you too intensely, knowing your name without you even mentioned, and knowing your favorite flower, but you still agree to meet him on Saturday night after your shift. 

When you wave him goodbye and part ways, you don’t notice the way his smile slowly fading, he sighs, looking as you walk away, “You really don’t remember”

[old-skyguy]

Thoughts on episode 54 because I am very normal about the character development of this show.

Spoilers for FMA Brotherhood. Up to episode 54, at least.

The parallels between Mustang and Scar.

The fact Scar had his whole family, his nation, his culture, taken away from him and he chose violence and retribution and destruction over trying to help what remained of his community.

The fact Mustang had his friend taken away, had to watch this man who cared so deeply get killed and see the aftermath for his family. How it must've felt to slowly realize that he did that same thing to scar and so many other innocent people to further fuel a corrupt web of lies that benefits no one but the ones weaving it. The guilt. The anger. How he wanted so badly to take it out on something, on someone, just like Scar did.

Except Scar had been changed too. Riza sees this. Riza has had to live with this guilt for a fucking *while* and I mean they all have to an extent, but none of the other military understand the gravity of the situation like she does. They can all tune it out, believe that they're doing this for their country or for the greater good, but she doesn't have that luxury . Her tattoo directly resulted in the sheer power used as violence against so many innocent people.

You know who ELSE has a tattoo that represents the hard work of a family member in the name of innovation that ultimately became a weapon never meant to be wielded?

SCAR. SCAR DOES.

He resorted to blind carnage as well. He killed off good men, people with families, with deeper aspects to them besides their part in the war, and ultimately many, many innocent people, whose deaths impacted the lives of those around them and devastated them as much as his own family's. And you know what??

He was RIGHT to be angry at the government.

He was RIGHT to be angry at the military.

That doesn't mean he had the right to blindly kill anyone in uniform. It's an absolutely brilliant juxtaposition between two extreme sides of the same coin. Such a poignant commentary on military vs terrorist ideals and how they're both just inherently wrong and dehumanizing to the very people they stand for, but both refusing to take responsibility for their wrongdoings.

Until Scar realizes how his idea of revenge affected other people, innocent people just like him, just like his family, just like the life of the child that sparked the fucking war. And he steps back. Slowly, he becomes more willing to work together, more aware of what is actually behind this, more patient with the people he once swore revenge on. Because with military, even in real life, there's always like several degrees of separation between the people who control the narrative and control the war from the conference rooms and the people who are ordered to pull the trigger. That doesn't mean he isn't allowed to be angry at the ones behind the gun, it's just that he should be more worried about the people behind the battlefield. God, this show's politics and depictions of war are so realistic and just dead on. I could talk about it for hours.

Mustang almost went down that same path of misdirected retribution. He was so close it was literally UNDER HIS FOOT. But seeing how this affected Scar, how it affected Hughes and his fellow soldiers and Al and Ed and how it affected RIZA. Seeing how she was willing to kill herself just so *his own* destructive powers could die with her.

How Envy was just a byproduct. He was always depicted as this scary, blood-shedding, horrific creature of carnage, which *is* what he's supposed to represent, but I feel like in the moment he realized just how small Envy really was, he feels for a brief moment what it was like for Scar to learn that. It was pointless to take all his anger out on the person who was created specifically to BE a weapon - just a weapon - and nothing more. Who was created to act as a blind, uncaring soldier in a war that they don't even really have the ability to comprehend. That he should save his anger for the system that created him, the system that blinded him to the truth and never let him learn empathy. Never let him be a person Just like the dehumanization of war.

It doesn't help anyone to withhold mercy from the one who executed another's will. It would be just like Scar killing soldiers, it does NOTHING about the real issue and so he'll save it for the real man behind the slaughter.

And Jesus envy as a deconstruction of that system. Brilliant. I love it. Being so confused by the mindset of the people on the opposing side and rather than confronting the fact that maybe he was on the wrong side this whole time and confronting his humanity (philosopher's stone) and trying to remedy himself like Scar and all the other State Alchemists that fought the Ishvalan War he kills himself (also with the philosopher's stone) out of fear and a warped sense of honor and loyalty to a cause he doesn't even grasp.

That could've been Riza. That would've been her if Mustang decided to go through with killing Envy himself. If he chose selfish retribution over those affected by tragedy and government corruption. But it wasn't.

He chose to focus on the bigger picture of who's at fault instead of blindly killing out of rage.

And that is the ideal leader.

Because a tyrannical, angry leader stuck in the past is a horrible leader. It's just as bad as a cold blooded murderer, and eventually, they'll become the very thing that broke them.

He would've perpetuated the cycle.

He came **so close** to perpetuating the cycle that it's honestly terrifying.

But he didn't.

The character growth showcased here is *masterful.*

I could go on but I'd just repeat myself, I'm like a dog chasing it's tail.

Inject it into my ***veins***.