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cherrybomb107 · 1 month ago

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I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: forgiveness, or the way it’s often presented, is harmful. That’s one more gripe I have with season two. The way it frames “forgiveness”(the idea that you are obligated to forgive someone lest you be “just as bad as they are” is problematic.)

Because for one, having Jinx apologize for killing Caitlyn’s mom and vow to stop the “cycle of violence” doesn’t make any sense. One, that’s just not something Jinx would ever say. Two, the idea that Jinx killing some Councilors is anywhere near the same thing as Caitlyn becoming a dictator is laughable at best, and insulting to my intelligence at worst. Three, Caitlyn never apologizes or faces any meaningful consequences for her actions! Losing an eye was nothing! She should’ve lost a hand at least and we should’ve seen her reflect on her actions and pledge to do better for Zaun!!! Not just fuck off and ride off into the sunset after everything she did! And lastly, the “cycle of violence” literally isn’t a cycle, it’s just one city oppressing the other for centuries and the other city deciding to fight back! This “cycle” doesn’t begin and end with Jinx and her attack on the Council, so framing it like Jinx is the one who has to take sole responsibility for fixing everything is nonsense.

“But Arcane was never about heroes and villains, everything is morally gray!” You sound dumb. This is obviously a story with overt themes of oppression and revolution. I’m not here to critique morality, I’m here to critique its framing. Why are certain characters “justified” in their heinous actions but others don’t get that luxury? That’s what I’m talking about. Moving on, the problem with “forgiveness” implies that it’s necessary, and the way people conflate forgiveness with letting someone have access to you after everything they did is the problem. You don’t have to forgive someone if you don’t want to. That doesn’t make you “bitter” nor does it mean you’re “holding a grudge”. There is a difference between forgiving someone and just removing yourself from the situation and becoming detached, imo. That’s what should’ve been done with Caitlyn and Jinx. No one in Zaun should’ve been shown dying for their oppressors because “teamwork” nor should Sevika have been shoved on the Council to push this idea of “unity”. Why would Sevika, a Zaunite who has never had and never will have any love for Piltover, be forced to cozy up with the Council? Why is the onus on her, as an oppressed person, to make nice with her oppressors? Why does the institution of Piltover, and people like Caitlyn who uphold that institution and wreak havoc on the underclass of Zaun, never have to answer for their crimes?

Answer: Because they(the writers) want to convince us that Jinx and Caitlyn, and by extension, Piltover and Zaun are “just as bad” as each other, and that both sides need to work together to heal. Only problem with that is, the Piltover/Zaun conflict was not presented that way in season one. I’m sure the writers want us to think it’s one city vs another, when that’s not the case at all. In reality, it’s one city OVER the other, and now they’re trying to convince us “both sides are bad”. While it’s true that there ARE problems on both sides, the problems in Zaun literally wouldn’t be problems if Piltover wasn’t an oppressive institution. Why were the chem barons able to amass power? Because the systems Piltover set up left Zaun behind and allowed power hungry people like Finn, Margo, Chross, and Smeech seize their opportunities for control. Why is there so much crime in Zaun? Again, because of Piltover. The class disparity that Piltover set up means the economic divide between the two cities is a chasm that grows wider and wider every day. People are forced to steal to eat. They join gangs out of necessity, not because they have to. Why did Jinx kill all those enforcers?

That shouldn’t be the question. The real question is: Why does “Jinx”(as in, the persona Powder adopted to feel strong) even exist? Answer, once again, because of Piltover! Jinx is an oppressed person with severe mental health and self esteem issues that have been exacerbated as a result of the crooked system of Piltover. She saw her parents get killed by enforcers(militarized police force that carries out the will of the powers that be and is responsible for harassing, brutalizing, and over policing Zaun) right in front of her before she was even in the double digits. She was then adopted by Vander, but she had to struggle her whole life. Zaun doesn’t even have air to BREATHE unless Piltover decides they deserve it. And thanks to Caitlyn, we get to see how even THAT gets weaponized when Zaun steps out of line. So if they don’t have access to clean air, it’s safe to say that they also don’t have access to the same quality food, water, shelter, clothing, economic, educational, or medical services that Piltovans do, just by virtue of living in Zaun. So you take a severely mentally ill little girl, systematically oppress her, and then clutch your pearls when she becomes violent and lashes out? Label her a “psycho” and a “monster” for killing cops, gang members, and politicians while Caitlyn gets a happily ever after after everything she did? I thought “both sides” were “just as bad”. So why is Jinx the only one who meaningfully suffers? Why does Zaun as a whole always have to pay the price?

Lack of commitment. “Terrorist” is a loaded word that’s been weaponized against marginalized people for ages now. It’s another one to add to the list: angry, crazy, mad, belligerent, monster, savage, animal, etc. All these dehumanizing words are leveled at folks who get tired of taking shit lying down. I’ve never thought that Jinx was a “monster” for killing cops, Councilors, or politicians. Never will. But the show clearly WANTS me to, as well as simultaneously wanting to see Caitlyn’s actions a certain way. I’ve already made a post about why comparing or trying to equalize Caitlyn’s actions and Jinx’s actions is disingenuous and intellectually dishonest imo. Think of it like a bully vs bullied type of thing. There’s this kid and his asshole friends who gets to bully you for weeks, months, or even years and face no repercussions. Then, one day you get fed up, and start fighting back. Whether that be with words, feet, fists, or what have you. If you go down, you go down swinging. When the dust settles, BOTH of y’all are getting disciplined(detention, suspended, expelled, not allowed to go on trips, etc) for “fighting”. And there’s a very good chance one of you will be punished much more harshly than the other. Even though you started fighting back. BACK being the operative word. Every single time this kid pushed, hit, kicked, punched, started rumors about, and isolated you, nothing was done. The one time you start fighting BACK, both of y’all get in trouble because the school has a “zero tolerance policy”.

But you know that’s not true. It can’t be. You’ve been telling the teachers, guidance counselors, and vice principal about what’s been going on. But nothing was done about it. Or if it was, you were the one who was told to move seats. Or switch to a different classroom. Or just ignore them. Or “maybe they’re lashing out cause they have problems going on at home.” It was nothing but excuses when you were getting pushed around. Now when you fight back it’s a problem. Now take that metaphor and apply it to Caitlyn and Jinx. Caitlyn is like that fat rich asshole with parents on the PTA who make hefty donations to the school. Jinx is like the scrawny little nobody who has no one to stick up for them. Piltover is the school system. Caitlyn’s privilege isolated her from any meaningful consequences, while Jinx’s lack of privilege guaranteed she’d face hefty consequences, much more than Caitlyn ever would.

Jinx has lost: her birth parents as a result of state sanctioned violence, her adoptive brothers, her sister, her best friend, her adoptive father, Silco, her sister again, her adoptive father again, her new friend, her sense of self, her life(possibly) and she has to deal with being an oppressed person who struggles with mental health issues on top of all that. Caitlyn has lost: her mother, and her eye. That’s it. She’s never forced to give anything up. She never had to reckon with the reality of what it means to be not just a Piltie, but a Kiramman, and a dictator on top of that. We never see her be genuinely remorseful about her horrible actions in Zaun. Nor does she try to apologize to the people in Zaun or meaningfully make amends. No, Caitlyn gets to live in that big shiny house of hers with her father and girlfriend and the months she spent co-signing martial law will never be addressed. To bring it back to the bully vs bullied comparison, this means that Jinx would have been expelled for fighting back, while Caitlyn gets ISS(in school suspension). “Both sides are bad” yeah well you clearly believe one side is worse! And it’s not the correct one!

Piltover is an oppressive, classist, ableist, and brutal institution. Caitlyn was the head of this institution for months after she experienced a fraction of what Zaunites have experienced for centuries. At the end of the day, Caitlyn’s actions were brushed aside and she got her happy ending, though it wasn’t deserved whatsoever. Meanwhile Jinx, Sevika, Ekko, Isha, countless other Zaunites, and Zaun as a whole did nothing but suffer their whole lives and now they have nothing to show for it. “Both sides are bad” but the bad that the institution is responsible for is never called out, while the bad that the oppressed people did is blown out of proportion and they are severely punished for it.

And yes, I know I’m talking about a mainstream television show with white/non black people in the writers room. I knew I was never gonna get the pro revolution story I wanted to see, and I’ve made peace with that. But, if they wanted to have a “both sides” narrative so bad, then they should’ve stuck with it. BOTH SIDES should have equally suffered and had to reckon with their wrongdoings. The responsibility for doing so shouldn’t have solely been on the shoulders of the minority group. THAT’S the crux of the issue. I was always gonna think “forgiveness” was the coward’s way out. But they never show Piltover apologizing. Only Zaun does, and that’s not right.

#arcane #arcane critical #the problem with both sides are bad #forgiveness is a scam #arcane season two ramblings #arcane season two

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powdermelonkeg · 5 months ago

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You're big on Zelda, so I'm curious. How would you rewrite TOTK, if given the writer's room?

Fun question! *cracks knuckles* Let's answer it.

I've answered about the disconnect between BotW and TotK before, so I'm going to take some of those ideas and run with them here.

I'm taking the intended route, for the sake of keeping coherence rather than just making up an entirely new Hyrule from scratch. Link and Zelda are the same as they are in BotW.

To start off, I like the Zonai.

I like that they're an entirely new race of people in Hyrule. I love how weird-looking they are. I love that they're not human race #87.

I also love their bastard not-Zonai lovechild thing. If we saw more examples of Zonai, I would love for this funky lil dude to be part of them, kind of like how the Zora have a ton of variation between them.

So why don't we do that? Why don't we give them a kingdom?

And why don't we put some meat on the bones of what was already built?

There are Zonai-esque ruins all over the Depths, mostly in mines for Zonaite.

Their color palette matches. Rauru's braids and Sonia's earrings match brightblooms.

And the three dragons, who have Zonai features (segmented, color-edged hair, long ears, blunt muzzles, scale beard mouths), could have been a catalyst.

A catalyst for what, though?

It starts with the Depths themselves, and the dragons breaking free.

See, in TotK, the three elemental dragons all dive in and out of the Depths chasms. There's no explanation as to why, and the only explanation we have for the chasms forming is that it was like...geysers of Gloom.

However, the dragons in BotW are confirmed to have carved these canyons:

So let's go back in time a little.

The Zonai live in the Depths. They're underground, away from all the chaos that Hyrule has ever had to endure. They worship the bargainer statues as gods, they collect the souls of those above that drip down into the world below.

They have a rich mining industry, and coliseums for their greatest warriors to test their mettle against captured monsters.

They have their Secret Stones, and the one who's allowed to hang onto those is their leader.

That'd be young Prince Rauru.

The elemental dragons, Dinraal, Naydra, and Farosh, are testaments to why no one can be allowed to have the Secret Stones. They were consumed by their power, literally.

One day, they break free, as if summoned by an unknown force. They tunnel through the ground and into the sky, connecting the world below to the one above.

The Hylians cautiously venture below, or the Zonai above. Prince Rauru, keeper of the Secret Stones, and Sonia, High Priestess of Hylia, meet.

They fall in love.

They marry.

Their marriage marks a unity between the Surface and the Depths.

(Maybe throw in a lil Skyward Sword continuity, mention that while Hylia sent the humans to the sky, the Zonai fled underground to avoid Demise, to keep the Secret Stones out of his grasp. You don't even have to name drop him, just say they went down to avoid destruction.)

Suddenly, Hyrule (the center part of the map, based around the Great Plateau, not the whole sub-kingdom conglomerate it exists as in BotW) undergoes a technological boom. Ganondorf, neighboring leader of the Gerudo, is interested. He talks trade with now-king Rauru, but there's the sub-plot of trying to get his secrets, which he steadily grows obsessed with.

Meanwhile, the Gerudo make their own expedition into the Depths.

There. The stage is set.

Now Zelda falls into the past.

She's found by Rauru and Sonia. Adopted as their daughter, more or less.

Also, the two of them have a small child. Nintendo, you CAN'T set them up as "they're her ancestors" and then kill them childless, descendants don't work like that. Zelda's immediately endeared to the kid, who reminds her of Link. Lil half-Zonai girl with a wooden sword who swings it at anything that moves. There are memories, it's cute.

In the past, Zelda witnesses, real time, Ganondorf going mad with power. They get along well at first, he's cordial, polite, a model diplomat. But she finds his troops in places they shouldn't be, confronts him about it and gets brushed off.

She tells Rauru, he's unwilling to throw suspicion onto Ganondorf. They're semi-friends and diplomacy is important! He's got to run this kingdom right. He can't fail, this is the biggest thing he's ever done!

(Sprinkle in a parallel to BotW Zel's fear of failure)

Some of the memories fill in gaps about Rauru's power, also. He's got what Link can do, minus Recall. Ultrahand and Fuse mainly, but Rauru's been experimenting with Ascend, excited because it'll make passage between the Depths and the Surface so much easier, and we see where Zel gets her scientific excitement from. Regardless of how different they look, they ARE family.

Ganondorf and Rauru get into a fight one day. A BAD fight. Maybe because Zelda tipped Rauru off, and despite telling her no, Rauru looked into it anyways. Regardless, they march out in opposite directions, and Zelda overheard it in the hallway. As Ganondorf leaves, he gives her the most SCATHING glare.

He then declares war on Hyrule.

Rauru makes a bid for allies, trying to get enough manpower to fight Ganondorf's impressive military. It's a struggle at first, but Zelda steps in, being the leader she's skilled at being and telling the others how crucial it is that they help. Ganondorf, meanwhile, turns to forbidden arts in his rage against Rauru, gets infected by Gloom/Malice, becomes scarily powerful. First Blood Moon. The Gerudo are kind of unnerved by him.

We see Zelda and Sonia helping with the war. Sonia's got light powers, Zelda's are stronger, together they can destroy entire ARMIES of monsters, saving their warriors on the battlefield. A few instances of Little Princess trying to be involved like the grown-ups are, getting huffy when she's told no.

In the aftermath of each fight, Rauru runs around, sealing away the monsters' latent energy with green spirals. That's where the Shrines come from, though in the past, they're Luminous Stones—it's all faded by present day, the light bled out of them.

Sonia is on the battlefield against Ganondorf one fateful night, Little Princess wanders onto the field, both the girls panic about it, and Sonia tries to run away with her while Zelda affords them cover. THAT'S when Ganondorf strikes her—he's fast like a ninja, rushes past Zelda, strikes Sonia.

She falls. Little Princess tumbles.

Zelda races to Little Princess's side, picks her up to run away with her as Ganondorf gets Sonia's stone, and he transforms into the Demon King. He raises his army. Little Princess screams, and we see an uncontrolled blast of Hylia's power, like an erratic attempt at what Zelda did at the end of BotW.

It fritzes, Zelda hugs her tight and ducks down to shield her, and the power cascades across the battlefield, affecting monsters AND people alike. The war is in shambles. Ganondorf stares at the child and her guardian, and retreats in a hurry.

Cue Rauru running to their side.

He grieves his wife. Little Princess is kept safe by Zelda. The Gerudo shun Ganondorf and join Rauru's side, and everyone involved in the war dedicates everything to one final assault against Ganondorf, one trap to finally END him, to force him into the Depths and fight him on the Zonai's own turf. The Secret Stones are distributed. Rauru knows what he has to do, and at the climax of the final battle, he uses his Secret Stone to amplify his sealing magic, knowing it'll kill him in the process and locking Ganondorf away in the Depths.

Except, it's not that simple.

Gloom bursts out of the newly trapped Ganondorf's chest, flooding the Depths, eliminating everyone in its path. That includes the Sages, the assaulting army, and the VAST majority of the Zonai. Its sole purpose is to gather enough strength over time for Ganondorf to break his shackles, because the Gloom wants OUT.

(Subtly implied that the Gloom is the first iteration of Demise's curse of hatred, maybe.)

And Zelda is alone. Trapped in the past, stuck with Little Princess, her Secret Stone, and the last of Mineru's notes.

Gloom continues to fume out of the Depths, so they're sealed off. The Blood Moon keeps spawning new monsters, so Little Princess and the remainders of the construct caretakers are sent up to the sky, for her protection. Zelda's the one that orchestrates it. Her people once hailed from the sky, and it's always been known as a place of safety for them.

Is this self-referential to the history she's building, or a Skyward Sword reference? Who knows.

They go skyward.

Then the Master Sword appears, and Zelda knows what she has to do. It's compounded, of course, by crushing guilt over the fact that Sonia's death happened on her watch. She tells Little Princess to look out for the world ahead, tells her to be strong, and brave, and everything she wishes her dad had told her. Then ends it with a final message.

"I'm leaving you something very important. Take good care of it."

Then she goes off alone to become a dragon.

Present day.

Link's not guided by Rauru, he's guided by a strange, beautiful woman who looks kind of like Zelda (albeit with Zonai hair, eyes, and long claws), who has a deep regret for the world below and who knows the lonely world above like the back of her hand. She teaches him the basics of his powers as he visits the shrines.

The Great Sky Island is otherwise normal.

You go to Hyrule. The Light Dragon's the one that breaks the cloud barrier, and as she does so, she sheds a single tear. By the time you get to the tear's location, it's spread a mural of the memory it contains around it.

Whenever you Recall a tear, the Light Dragon sheds a new one somewhere else, and it's up to you to follow.

You're chasing Zelda, twice over.

Besides that, Hyrule's Surface is...largely unchanged. I'm still upset that the pirates assaulting Lurelin weren't ACTUAL pirates, so guess what, they are now. Splinter faction of Yiga. Also, River Zora take over Lake Hylia, there's a spat between them and the Sea Zora, and Yona is the princess of the Rivers.

Then you've got the Depths.

That's where you find the ruins of the Zonai civilization, and you start piecing together the world it contains on your own. You aren't told, you're SHOWN.

Rauru's ghost finds and guides you here. He has a moment of "hey, isn't that MY arm?", upgrades your abilities or shows you how to use them more efficiently (ups your build limit, shows you how to un-Fuse, teaches you DEscend, gives you Autobuild, things like that), then DIES-dies. You escort his poe soul to a Bargainer statue.

The biggest change to the Depths, though, is that under the Gerudo Desert, you find PEOPLE.

So remember how the Gerudo launched their own expedition into the Depths in the past? How the Gloom killed almost everyone and the world below was sealed off?

There were a sparse few survivors of the Zonai, and some unfortunate Gerudo researchers that also got trapped. The people down there now are descendants of both. They're not Zonai anymore, though.

They're Lomei. They evolved like how the Rito evolved from the Zora in Wind Waker. Their tribe name comes from the Zonai word for "loneliness."

Regardless, they're initially inhospitable to Surfacers, because Surfacers are how they ended up how they did. If you sneak into their city, you're captured, like a few unfortunate Zonai Survey Team members that have wandered in, only YOU can escape via Ascend. OoT Gerudo parallel.

You can earn the Lomei's trust by doing things for them (maybe beating all three labyrinths as a rite of passage?), and then they let you into their cities. They've got their own brand of tech based off of old Zonai designs. One of the Lomei scientists is working on a mechsuit—that'll be the sage that Mineru passes her stone down to. And it fits doubly, both because the Lomei ARE the descendants of the Zonai and because the Lomei technician and Mineru are both scientists.

The Lomei people give you more pieces to the complicated Zonai-Hylian puzzle, and they're the ones that first tell you the legend of the dragons-from-Secret-Stones. So you can either learn it from them OR get it revealed in Zel's later memories.

Besides that, the present plot is pretty much as normal. Still the same bosses. Still the same sages-help-with-everything, though each sage you rescue gives you another piece of what really happened at the final fight (rather than the same cutscene over and over), telling you about how Rauru sacrificed himself and the effect it had on the rest of the Depths.

I will change where the Ganondorf's Army fight takes place, though. It's ACTUALLY very hidden, like the game was trying to imply it to be when you chase around Kohga. You do still have to do that, but he accidentally directs you to a place that's hidden in the tiniest crevice near Hyrule Castle, one that's very easy to miss and sitting in a veritable sea of Gloom. Once you finish the Kohga quest, a poe hovers outside of the crevice, which leads into an even deeper chasm that leads to the Underdepths.

The poe's your help to get through the maze there, and wherever it goes, Sundelions bloom at the corners. If you go early, before getting everything done, you have to navigate that place yourself, and it's a nightmare.

But you do it. You get to where everything started, and you beat the army, then Ganondorf, then he shoves his fist down his throat and goes dragon.

As he breaks through the ground and curls around Hyrule Castle, he SHATTERS it. The building crumbles to smithereens, crashing into the Depths below.

You beat Demon Dragon, Zelda catches you on her nose, it's over. You're in the spirit realm over sleeping Zelda.

The poe appears over your shoulder, drifts away from you, then materializes into Sonia. She says nothing, just activates Recall, turns Zelda back to normal, then cradles her in her arms. She gives her a kiss on the forehead, looks at you, then says the same line Zelda said to Little Princess ages ago, with the single change of one word.

"I'm leaving you something very important. Take good care of her."

She fades, as does the Spirit World.

You're falling.

Zelda's falling.

You catch her.

She wakes up, sees you, then hugs you and sobs into your shoulder.

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom.

Roll credits.

Bonus for the memory completionists, the True Ending has Zelda meeting the grown Little Princess up at the Great Sky Island, reconciling with her, both of them saying how proud they are of each other. Then Little Princess turns into a poe, and Zelda promises to take her to the Depths so she can be with her parents again. As they walk away, Sonia's poe tails after them.

And THAT is a way longer post than I expected to write. Whew.

#loz #zelda #totk #long post #obscenely long post #ask bee #totk rewrite #i want this game now. do you see what you've done to me?

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hypnogold · 24 days ago

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The Rise of the Empire

Hey everyone, sometimes I have these crazy story ideas, which I like. I am a huge Star Wars fan so please let me know if you are too! Hope you like it!

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Shadowfall Park was known for its elaborate events, but no one could have predicted what this year’s Star Wars-themed roleplay gathering would bring. The usually serene park had transformed into a spectacle of glowing lights, replica ships, and hundreds of fans in costume. Laughter and cheers echoed through the grounds as people snapped photos, battled with lightsabers, and immersed themselves in the galaxy far, far away.

But something dark lingered beneath the festivities.

At the heart of the event stood a towering black stage adorned with the insignia of the Galactic Empire. White-armored stormtroopers flanked the stage, standing eerily still under the glow of park floodlights. Darth Vader himself stood in the center, his imposing figure silhouetted against a backdrop of artificial fog. His voice boomed over the loudspeakers, commanding the attention of everyone nearby.

“Step forward, brave recruits,” he declared. “Join the Empire and bring order to the galaxy.”

At first, people clapped and cheered, assuming it was all part of the entertainment. But the stormtroopers were methodical, moving through the crowd with glossy white helmets in hand. Their movements were deliberate, almost too precise, as if this wasn’t a performance but something much more real.

Liam wasn’t a diehard Star Wars fan. He’d come to the event with his roommate, Mike, who had been talking about it for weeks. Mike had eagerly dressed as a Jedi, complete with a toy lightsaber, while Liam had thrown on a hoodie and jeans, blending into the crowd.

As they approached the Empire’s stage, Mike’s enthusiasm grew. “This is so cool! Look at that Vader costume—it’s perfect.”

Liam shrugged. “Yeah, pretty elaborate.”

A stormtrooper stepped forward, holding a gleaming white helmet. “You there,” the modulated voice called, pointing directly at Mike. “The Empire needs you.”

Mike laughed nervously, playing along. “Alright, let’s do this!” He stepped forward and accepted the helmet. The crowd around him cheered as he raised it high before slipping it on. The glossy surface reflected the park’s lights, and for a moment, the crowd seemed to hold its breath.

As the helmet clicked into place, Mike froze. His hands fell to his sides, and his posture stiffened. A faint glow emanated from the helmet’s visor as his head tilted slightly, as if listening to something only he could hear.

“For the Empire,” he said suddenly, his voice monotone and robotic.

The crowd erupted into applause, assuming it was part of the act. Mike stepped off the stage and joined the ranks of the stormtroopers, his movements synchronized with theirs. Liam watched, confused. Something about Mike’s demeanor wasn’t right.

“Next recruit,” Darth Vader’s voice commanded, and another stormtrooper stepped forward, holding out a helmet. This time, the trooper pointed directly at Liam.

“I’m good,” Liam said, raising his hands in protest.

“Step forward,” the stormtrooper repeated, the helmet glowing faintly in the dim light.

The crowd around him cheered, encouraging him to play along. Reluctantly, Liam stepped up, taking the helmet. It was heavier than he expected, the glossy surface cool against his fingers.

“Put it on,” the stormtrooper instructed. “Feel the power of the Empire.”

Liam hesitated, glancing at Mike, who now stood perfectly still among the other stormtroopers. The crowd’s cheers grew louder, and with a sigh, Liam slipped the helmet over his head.

The world around him changed instantly. Inside the helmet, the sounds of the crowd were muffled, replaced by a low, pulsating hum. Red text scrolled across the visor: Welcome to the Empire. Loyalty is strength. Obedience is unity.

A calm, authoritative voice filled his mind. You are now a soldier of the Galactic Empire. Resistance is futile. Embrace your purpose.

Liam tried to take the helmet off, but his arms wouldn’t move. His body felt distant, as though it no longer belonged to him. The voice continued, washing over his thoughts, erasing his doubts.

“For the Empire,” he heard himself say, though the words felt foreign.

When the hum faded, his posture straightened, and his movements became mechanical. He stepped off the stage and joined the line of recruits, his mind buzzing with newfound clarity.

Shadowfall Park had become an Imperial stronghold. Stormtroopers moved through the crowd, identifying potential recruits and offering helmets. Those who accepted were led to a secluded area of the park where black vans bearing the Empire’s insignia waited.

Inside the vans, the recruits were outfitted in full stormtrooper armor. Stormtroopers in complete gear worked efficiently, snapping pieces of white armor into place on the dazed recruits. The interior of the vans glowed with a sterile light, and the hum of machinery filled the air.

Liam stood in line outside one of the vans, his helmet still on but the rest of his body in civilian clothing. He could see others ahead of him stepping into the van and emerging fully armored, their movements robotic and synchronized.

When his turn came, Liam climbed into the van. The stormtroopers inside worked quickly, securing armor onto him piece by piece. With each snap of a chest plate or leg guard, he felt a deeper sense of purpose, as if the armor itself was sealing his loyalty to the Empire.

When they finished, a stormtrooper held up a small mirror. Liam stared at his reflection—a fully armored stormtrooper, indistinguishable from the others. He raised his hand in a salute, the action automatic.

“For the Empire,” he said.

By nightfall, the park was unrecognizable. Rows of stormtroopers marched in perfect formation, their white armor gleaming under the floodlights. Darth Vader stood on the stage, addressing his new recruits.

“You are the first of many,” he declared. “Together, we will bring order to this chaotic galaxy.”

The crowd that had come for fun and entertainment was gone. The few remaining spectators, unaware of the transformation’s true nature, clapped and cheered, marveling at the “immersive” experience. Some even volunteered to join, not realizing the helmets would strip them of their will.

Liam stood among the ranks of stormtroopers, his mind calm and focused. The voice in his helmet was all he needed now. The Empire’s purpose was his purpose, and he would serve it without question.

As the stormtroopers marched out of Shadowfall Park, the first phase of the Empire’s expansion was complete. And no one would ever suspect it had all begun with a roleplay event.

#male transformation #hypnotised #star wars #ai generated #hypnotized #join us

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juju-or-anya · 9 months ago

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It's hard not to find irony in the criticisms directed towards Eloise Bridgerton and the elevation of Penelope Featherington as a more genuine and hardworking figure in contrast with Eloise's supposed privileged circumstances and her discourse on feminism. Indeed, some voices have pointed out Eloise's feminism as something white and privileged, and while this is not without merit, it's akin to rediscovering what others have already noticed, akin to Christopher Columbus "discovering" America.

Understanding the context in which "Bridgerton" unfolds is essential. The series is set in Regency England, between 1813 and 1825. This historical period is marked by a highly stratified and conservative society, where women, especially those of the upper class, were relegated to traditional roles and lacked basic legal rights. In this context, any discussion of feminism must consider the unique limitations and challenges of the time.

It is true that Eloise Bridgerton, being part of a respected family in English nobility, embodies many of the characteristics associated with the white and privileged feminism of the time. However, this should not diminish the value of her role in advancing feminist ideas in her historical context. It is thanks to women like Eloise, who challenged social expectations and dared to question the status quo, that doors were opened for future, more inclusive feminist movements.

On the other hand, when analyzing Penelope Featherington's role in contrast with Eloise Bridgerton's, intriguing nuances worthy of a more detailed critical exploration are revealed. Although both come from upper-class families, Penelope's experiences differ significantly from Eloise's. In the society depicted in "Bridgerton," Penelope is portrayed as a more marginal figure, overshadowed by the prominence and glamour of the Bridgerton family. She is often seen in the background, struggling to find her place in a world where her social status does not put her at the center of attention.

Throughout the series, Penelope exhibits a distressing lack of empathy and solidarity towards other women. Instead of fostering unity and support among her peers, her writings are propelled by feelings of envy, resentment, and desires for revenge. Striking examples of this include her actions to publicly reveal Marina Thompson's pregnancy, intending to undermine her relationship with Colin Bridgerton, or defaming individuals such as Daphne, Edwina, and Kate Sharma, often with no apparent reason other than personal gain.

Penelope's behavior as Lady Whistledown sheds light on her complex nature and motivations. While it may represent an attempt to find her voice in a world dominated by more powerful figures, it also reveals a tendency towards manipulation and selfishness. Ultimately, her role as the mysterious chronicler is more than just a quest for identity; it is a reflection of the moral and ethical complexities underlying the society of "Bridgerton."

In summary, asserting that Penelope is more feminist and hardworking than Eloise due to her role as Lady Whistledown is, at best, simplistic and, at worst, deeply misleading. Both women, while privileged in their own right, have chosen different paths in life and have faced their own challenges. However, the narrative of Penelope as a morally superior and more genuinely hardworking figure should be questioned in light of her actions and motivations, which often reveal a lack of integrity and empathy towards her peers.

It's important to note that when Theo confronts Eloise, questioning her understanding of the real world and her privileged position, Eloise doesn't reject this criticism but uses it as a catalyst to seek greater understanding. Recognizing the validity of Theo's observation, Eloise actively seeks to broaden her horizons. She engages in conversations with Theo and John, seeking to break free from the bubble of privilege in which she has lived so far.

On the other hand, Penelope takes a different stance towards her own privileged position. Instead of acknowledging her situation and seeking to understand the realities of those less privileged, Penelope vehemently denies any suggestion that she also benefits from the system. Rather than accepting her position of privilege, she portrays herself as a victim, despite her actions suggesting otherwise. Ultimately, this divergence in attitudes between Eloise and Penelope highlights the complexity of individual perceptions of privilege and personal responsibility in an unequal world.

PS: The comment: "Penelope saved Eloise by writing that she hung out with radicals, she doesn't know what it's like to be grateful" is shit. Whose fucking fault is it that the Queen is on a crusade with torches and pitchforks, looking for blood and a rolling head? From Penelope because she doesn't know when to keep her hand still and stop writing, if it weren't for Penelope, the queen wouldn't think that Eloise is Lady Whistledown, Penelope wasn't looking to help Eloise, she was looking to save her skin.

#anti penelope featherington #penelope featherington #eloise bridgerton #the bridgertons #bridgerton #theo sharpe #I swear I'm going to cry if I read again that Penelope is an icon of feminism and women's empowerment #Eloise does not deserve all the hate they are giving her #I do want Eloise and Theo to be together forever.#Because they love each other and would be very happy together #marina thompson #madame delacroix

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goodnightmemes · 2 months ago

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AGATHA ALL ALONG SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ You don't seem like yourself. ❜

❛ If you wanna be in control, you can be. ❜

❛ Is this really how you see yourself? ❜

❛ Do you remember why you hate me? ❜

❛ The things that you're roasting me for are the things that make me dangerous. ❜

❛ How long have I been here? ❜

❛ Call me "nosy," I'll cut out your tongue. ❜

❛ Can you put on some clothes? 'Cause you... 'Cause you're naked. ❜

❛ Do you remember pain? It kind of tickles, doesn't it? ❜

❛ Maybe I can't kill you, but I can make you wish you were dead. ❜

❛ I am not the only one that wants to see you dead. ❜

❛ Ugh! It really warms the heart. ❜

❛ You don't have a heart. ❜

❛ Be sure to tell the vengeance-seekers I said hi. ❜

❛ That's why I saved you from the spell you were under. ❜

❛ Wherever you are, a coven there shall be. ❜

❛ I feel really optimistic about this. ❜

❛ So you're a bit of a kook. Every witch has their process. ❜

❛ Witches like you are the reason people think we poison apples, and steal children, and eat babies. ❜

❛ Don't you miss the glory days? ❜

❛ The path you're currently on leads nowhere. ❜

❛ Hey! Where do you keep your jade eggs? I'm fresh out of marbles, and my pelvic floor is all over the place. ❜

❛ I haven't seen you since I made a really pointed effort to never run into you again.❜

❛ Historically, we as a group don't do well in courtrooms. ❜

❛ People like you are dangerous. ❜

❛ Are there any real witches in the house? ❜

❛ What a team of rejects. ❜

❛ This is just a really, really, really horrible party. ❜

❛ It's giving "middle-aged second chance at love" vibes and I'm here for it. ❜

❛ Okay, so a witch is really just another name for a bad girl, is that right? ❜

❛ I'm not saying that I wanna join the club or anything, but I would drink the blood of a virgin if it would smooth out some of these wrinkles. ❜

❛ So the hallucinations seem chill. ❜

❛ I can't protect you! ❜

❛ I do not wanna die here. This is not where I die. ❜

❛ They can take your power, but they can't take your knowledge. ❜

❛ I didn't think you had it in you. ❜

❛ We were supposed to look out for each other, but we didn't. That was our fatal mistake. ❜

❛ I wish we could go home. ❜

❛ People can't be replaced. ❜

❛ Are we in trouble? Like, more than we were ten minutes ago? ❜

❛ Honestly, I don't know how to feel. Do I hate her? Or do I want her phone number? ❜

❛ I'm feeling impatient. I'm feeling like I wanna cause some damage. ❜

❛ Once vengeance is loosed, you can't reel it back in. ❜

❛ The only way to end a curse is to face it. ❜

❛ Sad is better than angry. ❜

❛ You don't have to know a person's name to know who they are. ❜

❛ Are you really defending a noted serial killer, you creepy lurker? ❜

❛ The moral of the story, kids, is always finish what you started. Also, mercy is overrated. ❜

❛ Who better to commune with the dead than someone who's put so many in the grave? ❜

❛ I mean, or we could just slit her throat. ❜

❛ But we were getting along, weren't we? We were clicking. There was unity. ❜

❛ She's possessed! For real this time! ❜

❛ I hate ghosts. ❜

❛ Why do you hate me still?❜

❛ You were born evil. ❜

❛ Please take me with you. ❜

❛ She was protecting you. But you don't deserve it. ❜

❛ I couldn't... I couldn't control it. ❜

❛ Death comes for us all. ❜

❛ You're so much like your mother. ❜

❛ We love you more than we could ever hope to communicate in human words. ❜

❛ You don't need to be a psychic to see that you're a good egg. ❜

❛ Enjoy the now, baby. It's the only thing that's certain. ❜

❛ Nothing in my life has felt normal until I met you. ❜

❛ I want you to know the real me. ❜

❛ You're so adorably trusting. ❜

❛ Word to the wise, don't go sniffing around there. ❜

❛ You seriously don't know what kind of crazy that lady eats for breakfast. ❜

❛ I panicked, so I ran. ❜

❛ Could we, like, maybe not, with the physical violence? ❜

❛ Power doesn't interest me. ❜

❛ Yeah. Well, what you did was ehhh … but life goes on. Yours, anyway. ❜

❛ I mean, I've killed...uh...my share. But you don't see it holding me back. ❜

❛ Don't you dare feel guilty about your talent. You survived. ❜

❛ So you broke the rules. Big deal. That's what kept you alive. That's what makes you special. ❜

❛ I don't need you anymore. I don't know if I ever did. ❜

❛ If you really wanna finish this together, just know that I do not trust you. At all. ❜

❛ You'll get a nosebleed trying that hard to read my mind. ❜

❛ Hey, you want straight answers, ask a straight lady. ❜

❛ Tell me what more I should see, when I look at you. ❜

❛ You know, we really hated each other from the beginning. But now...I love you, guys. ❜

❛ I'm a forgotten woman. ❜

❛ Death comes for us all. It is what we all have in common. ❜

❛ I can see all the pieces falling into place. The gaps are filling in. ❜

❛ I'm telling you now because soon I'm not going to remember any of this. ❜

❛ I hope you'll join me. ❜

❛ I needed you. My coven. ❜

❛ What can I say? I like the bad boys. ❜

❛ I loved being a witch. ❜

❛ That's it? That's all the... That's all the time I get? ❜

❛ This can't be the end. It has to be the beginning. ❜

❛ I watch you. Just as closely as you watch everyone else. ❜

❛ No one in history has had special treatment like you. ❜

❛ You gave me nothing. You took. ❜

❛ Why do you let them believe those things about you, hmm? ❜

❛ What fresh horrors await us! ❜

❛ You seem relaxed. Usually at this point you're either complaining loudly or freaking out loudly. ❜

❛ It's nice. That feeling when your body knows it's safe. ❜

❛ Sometimes...boys die. ❜

❛ Congratulations, my love! I'm sorry I didn't have a ribbon for you to run through. ❜

❛ Why don't you want me? ❜

❛ Power looks good on you. ❜

❛ You do this and I will hate you forever. ❜

❛ Please let him live. Please, my love! ❜

❛ If you want to survive, get used to this feeling. ❜

❛ I cannot protect you from what's coming. ❜

❛ I saw you die. ❜

❛ And now, I'm a ghost. Can you dig it? ❜

❛ By the way, I did not sacrifice myself for you. I took a calculated risk. ❜

❛ You're making fun of me. This is just one of your tricks. ❜

❛ You have something of mine. I know you took it. ❜

❛ Why are you still here? Why won't you just die? ❜

❛ I'm sure he would forgive you for... whatever you did. ❜

❛ We could make a good team. You and me. ❜

#rp meme #sentence starters #inbox meme #rp prompt #roleplay meme #roleplay prompts #rp memes #sentence meme #sentence starter meme #*tv

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eggtargaryenii · 1 month ago

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EAST OF THE SUN | PART V

Aemond leaned down then, looking at the man as if he were a pest—a stain beneath his boot. “My justice is not a lenient one, ser,” he murmured. A red glow pulsed on his left periphery, in the spot where he was blind: a phantom vision from his missing eye, the absence of which he felt everyday. “The next time you lay your hand on my lady, I shall cut it off myself.”

6k words, aemond x fem!reader x jacaerys. childhood friends to lovers (except it's cousins), political drama. chapter warnings for sexual harassment/misogyny. dividers from @/cafekitsune.

SERIES SUMMARY & MASTERLIST.

X. JUSTICE

Aemond had never liked the way men looked at you.

He noticed this from a young age, watching as his brother’s eyes roved over your body. Aegon looked at you as a man would view a decadent feast or wine rather than a human being. Something to be owned. Something to be devoured. Aemond did not know entirely what it meant until after that day in the tourney stands, listening to his brother explain what a whore was, and what his brother wished to do with you—to debase you as he would a woman on the Street of Silk.

As soon as he understood this about Aegon, he understood it about other men as well. You were aware of it too, had likely been aware of it your entire childhood. You never did explain to Aemond, growing up, why you were so often upset, but he pieced it together eventually. You always ran to the dragonpit after some lord eyed you too hungrily, after some squire or guard or knight tried to put his hands on you, after Aegon did put his hands on you to squeeze at whatever part of your body he could. And of course no one helped you. His mother could not stop Aegon’s impulses to dishonour you, his father was too neglectful to care, and Aemond—

Aemond had been too weak.

It incensed him beyond thinking. He had been a powerless child, unable to defend himself, so of course he could not defend you either. He would be patronised by the grown men he ordered to stop, who always smiled politely at him and claimed that they were only being friendly. Aegon was worse—Aegon did not feel the least bit ashamed of his desires and repeatedly told Aemond that he would do the same to you if he were a real man. (Never, Aemond always thought viciously, never would he touch you like that, never would he make you cry like that.) He felt a vicious anger in those moments that he could barely contain. It was nearly as terrible as it was after he lost his eye and he realised that he could not defend his mother from either Rhaenyra’s manipulations or his father’s wroth.

While Aemond was weak though, you eventually began to retaliate. First by kicking his brother in the shin, then by throwing things at him. It already shamed Aemond that you had to do this for yourself, but what made it worse was that his mother punished you for defending yourself, lecturing that your family should always show unity before others. It was not so different from how she advised Aemond to tolerate his brother’s mistreatment of him in both public and private.

Aemond was never upset with Alicent over his own misgivings, but your hardship was something else altogether. It was easy to for Aemond to swallow public humiliation for himself, for he loved his queen mother and considered himself a loyal son—but for you?

He could not swallow it for you. He could not bear to let you suffer the indignity of being treated like an expensive cut of meat by the entirety of the court.

Aemond resolved to put an end to it when he was older—just as he resolved to put an end to his own torment, and just as he resolved to put an end to his mother’s worry. She had a precarious position with a King who did not love her or her sons, and you had a precarious position with the men at court who felt entitled to touch and insult you as they pleased. It was natural that he wanted to protect you both, and he could only do so if he gained power.

So power he did obtain. Aemond honed himself into a weapon, and he did not hesitate from using his blade’s edge. His presence around you became constant, imposing. Whenever men demanded your presence, he made sure to smile sharply and make it known that you were under his protection: “Return her to me once you are done,” he always commanded. Return her to me whole and unharmed, or else face my wrath if she is hurt, he always left unsaid.

When he was only newly a man, having seen ten-and-six name days, there were occasionally those who chose to defy him anyway. The most egregious was a visiting lord of the Stormlands who made it known that he found you quite comely. “No wonder kings and lords often go to Lys to find their concubines,” the lord had said, his eyes greedy upon you. “The women of their pillowhouses appear to be quite beautiful.”

You could not afford to offend him, for you could not afford to offend Otto Hightower. You only smiled stiffly, taking the hand he'd offered you. “Thank you, my lord,” you replied. “You flatter me too much. I was born in the Red Keep, and I was raised among the noble houses of Westeros. I am, in truth, as Westerosi as you.”

It did not matter to the Stormlands lord, just as it never seemed to matter to any other man. He took you to dance, and Aemond saw what he did to you, what you could not defend yourself from in the middle of a banquet hall filled with oppressive, heavy gazes. Stinking of Arbor gold and perfume, the older man openly grabbed you, pressed his body against yours, manhandled you like the Great Hall was a pleasure house and you were his preferred whore.

You were going to strike him, Aemond saw. Your brow twitched and your arm wound with tension, the way that it always did before you slapped Aegon. You were going to hit this lord and the consequences would be dire, for it would be a disgrace to House Targaryen for one of its ladies to conduct herself with such violence and inhospitality.

But Aemond was a man—and men are not so easily punished for violence.

He moved quickly, serpentlike. Not even Ser Criston, who had begun to cut a path toward you, could match Aemond’s pace. He placed a hand on the offending lord's shoulders, and suddenly the oaf was thrown like a ragdoll, body sliding across the marble floor as the crowd parted around him. Aemond’s boot crushed the chest of the drunken fool, pinning him down. Screams teared from several throats; an angry yell from the lord.

“How dare you,” he snapped. “Is this how House Targaryen comports itself to other nobles?”

Aemond only smiled. Steel flashed like lightning under the chandelier, and the edge of his blade pressed neatly against the wrist of the lord, drawing a thin, red line across his skin.

“House Targaryen,” Aemond declared loudly, “does not tolerate dishonourable behaviour toward any of its princesses or ladies. I imagine that your liege lord would not either, nor any of the other nobles in the Stormlands.”

He leaned down then, looking at the man as if he were a pest—a stain beneath his boot. “My justice is not a lenient one, ser,” Aemond murmured. A red glow pulsed on his left periphery, in the spot where he was blind: a phantom vision from his missing eye, the absence of which he felt everyday. “The next time you lay your hand on my lady, I shall cut it off myself.”

Ser Criston escorted the man out, and the lord departed from court the next day. Suddenly every lecher who had ever pestered you kept a wide berth from you, and every man you encountered was nothing but polite. You moved with so much more ease after that: less tense, less small, less sombre. You were no longer afraid of existing in the presence of others, Aemond observed. You even seemed to laugh and smile more openly, the sight of which he would never tire.

“I am grateful for what you did,” you said after the fact, “but I still think it was very extreme. Your mother was quite unhappy with you, you know, and your grandsire was displeased as well.”

“Alicent was indeed startled,” he admitted, “and the Hand prefers to keep his relationships cordial for the sake of his own plans, but this was the only way to ensure your safety. If men do not fear, then they do not obey. Sometimes it is necessary to demonstrate one’s might for the sake of order.”

You gave him a long look. “Such is the way that our ancient house thinks, but I am unsure that it is always true. Sometimes it helps to exercise self-restraint.”

Aemond’s mouth curled. He wondered if you knew how gentle your disposition could be, how naive you could be.

“My lady,” he replied, “I was exercising self-restraint. I was even being merciful. He kept his hands when he should have lost both, did he not?”

XI. THE STAR, REVERSED

Alicent seemed apprehensive on the night before the tournament, just as Aemond thought she would be.

He sought her out in Maegor’s Holdfast: one of the few places in the castle free from eavesdroppers by way of servants and listeners within its walls. If any whispers came from the tower, it was due to the folly of the people residing there, and Alicent would not err in this matter. She would stay tight-lipped to everyone but him—for he was his mother’ son, and he knew how to appeal to her weaknesses.

“You intend to wed my cousin to Ser Arthur Tyrell,” he said. His voice was soft, a statement rather than an accusation.

She swallowed. “Yes. The Tyrells are a great house—a match nearly unimaginable. And you met Ser Arthur: the man is dignified, handsome, and cares not for the girl’s origins. She will be treated well.”

“It may seem that way outwardly,” Aemond said, “but I must inform you of some devastating news I heard from Ser Criston.”

“News?”

“Yes. It seems that Ser Arthur is a raper—Ser Criston saw it for himself during his time in the Dornish Marches. Acts that were an affront to the Seven. Crimes to the Mother, Maiden, and Crone alike.”

Alicent was almost certainly aware that he had deduced she'd already known this. The flicker of doubt in her eyes and tension in her body gave it away. Still, she quickly donned a mask of surprise and revulsion. “A raper?”

“Yes.” The corner of his mouth turned down. “You must know, Mother—I worry for my cousin. You know how dear she is to me.” Everyone in the Red Keep seemed to know it except for you, Aemond thought dryly. “I would not be able to live with myself if I did not plead for you to stop this match.”

She breathed in deeply, tried her best to look reluctant and fretful. “I know how much this must worry you, but the matter has already been settled, Aemond. We cannot offend the Tyrells by dissolving this betrothal. But your cousin is quite resourceful—I am sure she will find a way to stay safe. Doubly so, since the Tyrells will not want to offend us.”

“But my grandsire has a greater wish not to offend them,” he said softly. “He needs their support when we claim the throne, and he intends to trade her body to secure it. It leaves her without any leverage.”

It was difficult to keep his voice gentle when the thought drove him mad. Always, always—people wished to buy and sell you, to treat you like a bed slave to be used. He would cut off the hands of every man in the Red Keep if it meant that no one would ever try that with you again. Sometimes, he even believed that he would cut off even those hands belonging to his own brother.

Alicent would never consent to such violence just to protect you, but she sounded earnest when she replied, “It is not easy for me to do this to your cousin.”

“I know it is not.” Aemond kept his face solemn. “It is already difficult for you to turn a blind eye to all those maids that fall victim to my brother’s impulses”—except it was not difficult for her at all, he thought, for Alicent staunchly needed her family to maintain the appearance of unity—“but I imagine it is unbearable to watch it happen to a girl you raised and cared for as your own. You were practically a mother to her.”

A subtle frown. “I am hardly anything like her mother.”

Are you so blind as to think you are not? he thought. For Alicent tried to teach you the values that she taught to her children, and she struck you for your disgraces as hard as she struck Aegon, and she told you to swallow your humiliations as often as she did Aemond. And she resented you as much as she resented all of them—for giving birth to them when she was still yet a child, for being saddled with the responsibility of raising them, for doing it all alone because his father did not love her nor any of them.

Aemond considered himself a loyal son, but he had no delusions about any of this. It was so obvious that not even Aegon was fool enough to miss this fact: his mother did not love either of the sons she had raised.

And just as equally, she did not love you.

“But even if I am not a mother to her,” Alicent mused, “you are right in thinking I mislike this. I find it unbearable… but sometimes we must do unbearable things to protect the people important to us.”

“Yes—truer words than any. Sometimes we must do the worst to protect the ones we love.”

His mother knew him well. He watched as Alicent’s eyes flickered with understanding. She took a deep breath and regarded him as if he was something to fear: a threat or a monster, rather than her own son. The moment was brief, but Aemond noticed it just as he had noticed it all the times before. He could not help the sharp knife of disappointment in his heart.

“What are you planning, Aemond?” she asked.

His mouth curled, and he did not answer her question. She likely already knew.

“Do not resent me for this, Mother. You have said it yourself: this marriage isn't something you want, either. Allow me to do what you cannot.” And let me free you from the guilt that will burden you should you condemn your daughter to this match that Grandsire has orchestrated.

Alicent gave him a long look. “You ask for me to allow it, but I cannot stop you.”

He hummed, still smiling—guiltless. For Aemond considered himself a loyal son, and that meant that he must do all the things that his mother was too gentle to know she should do. It meant that he must make men fear their family when she was not capable of it. It meant that he must show might when she was weak.

It meant that he must maintain order when no one else would.

“No,” he agreed. “You cannot.”

XII. KNIGHT OF CUPS

You were not fond of tourneys when you were younger.

Social pariahs do not do well at social events. While tournaments and feasts were a source of joy for everyone else, they—like every other celebration—only served to highlight how friendless you were. At first you tried to enjoy them with Helaena, but her mother eventually forbade it, so worried she was about your influence on her daughter. It was disappointing, but not unexpected. You then tried spending the time with Aemond, but Aegon was always made to sit near him, meaning that he also sat near you. It quickly became intolerable: Aegon’s hands would always curiously end up on your body—your lower back, your thighs, your bottom, and so on.

Aegon’s behaviour used to make you cry from the discomfort (privately, for you would have rather died than showed weakness before him), but after a time you grew tired of the crying and you started to kick him in retaliation. While this effectively kept his hands off you, it also meant that Alicent eventually also forbade her two sons from sitting near you. She could not have Aegon making a fool of himself during every tourney, yelping as you defended yourself.

In the end, you were left to sit alone in every tourney, which was simply uncomfortable. You loved a good joust as much as anyone else, but it was not nearly so fun when you had no one to spectate with or speak with between rounds. You would only sit there alone, with a favour that the septa had forced you to make, for which no one would ask, acutely aware of the gazes of other people. You always squirmed in your seat, trying not to think of the judgements being passed upon you: how lonely you were, how pathetic you were, how few people of noble standing would ever want your company except to touch you as if you were a bed slave like your mother.

All of this changed when Aemond grew up.

As soon as he was old enough to have the freedom, he began to accompany you during any festivities, sitting next to you in the stands. And when he began to join the listings, you always looked forward to seeing him cut down his opponents, knocking them brutally off their horses or making them yield to his sword. Even though you sat alone, you were never lonely, for Aemond spent the idle time between rounds with you, smiling in genuine amusement as you leaned over the barrier to jest and speak with him, once so deeply that you nearly fell over.

Eventually, you got into the habit of sitting in the front row, not hoping to bless anyone with a favour, but simply so you could speak more easily with him. You sat now in the same spot as always—but for once, you were not alone. Jacaerys was next to you, and Lucerys next to him. It was their first tournament in King’s Landing, and their excitement for it was evident.

You could not have asked for a better day for a tourney: the sky was a rich blue and the wind tempered the heat of the sun. The banners and shields all seemed so vivid in the bright daylight, stags and bears and towers and wolves emblazoned across them all. Jace and Luke recognized every house sigil, of course, but it did not stop you from pointing out every knight in the tiltyard. You gave a particular pause to the knight that carried a green shield blooming with a golden flower. “My betrothed,” you said. “Ser Arthur is apparently quite the splendid knight.”

“Ah.” Jacaerys’ expression was unreadable, his tone neutral. “I'll need to keep an eye on him.” He glanced down at the favour on your lap: a ring of golden blossoms with a green silk ribbon woven through it, obviously inspired by the Tyrell coat-of-arms. “Did you prepare that for him?”

You nodded. “No one ever asks me for my favour, so I stopped making them long ago, but I made one this time in case he thinks to request it in courtship. It was the Queen’s recommendation.”

“A good one,” Jace admitted, though he looked neither happy nor approving. “What do you think are the chances that he’ll win the crown of love and beauty for you?”

“None at all, I hope. I’ve bet quite a bit of coin on Aemond,” you said neatly. “Tyland Lannister will lose a great deal of money today.”

Jace’s mouth was slanted with something that might have been amusement. “Are you always so confident in my uncle’s victories?”

“Well, he does always win,” you replied, grinning.

“So I've heard,” he said, sounding exasperated, and you had to stop yourself from feeling embarrassed. Over the years, you had mentioned occasionally in your letters about how much time Aemond put into training, and which tourneys he had won, and all the things you were learning about warfare from him. You did not think that Jacaerys would have minded it, but he currently looked distinctly sour.

“Sorry.”

“No, it's all right.” He studied the yard carefully. “I look forward to seeing what sort of fighter my uncle has become.”

His dark gaze landed upon Aemond then, a silhouette of night-black armour chased with gold. His helm was off, revealing his silver hair and sharply carved features. You did not often think about how handsome your cousin was, and typically you thought of him too frightening to be gallant, but you could not ignore it today: Aemond Targaryen was a very beautiful man. You had to remind yourself that he was Alicent Hightower’s son, which was a fact that never failed to stop you from admiring him. If ever you should lose your wits and find yourself besotted with Aemond, the Queen would instantly banish you from the capital. Though Aemond, himself, was far too ambitious to enter a marriage as politically useless as yours would be.

Rather than lingering on your undesirability, you instead turned your focus to the two knights about to joust, a Tarth and a Dondarrion. You'd seen both the year before, and you were unsurprised when the Dondarrion brutally unseated the former. Every house of the Dornish Marches had fierce warriors forged by true battle, and Dondarrion was no exception. The nobles around you clapped politely; the smallfolk in the commons cheered.

More rounds. Caron against Frey, then Tully against Stokeworth, then Dayne against Lannister. Then, finally—Aemond Targaryen.

As a prince, Aemond was allowed to choose his opponents. Never one to be craven, he stopped and pointed his lance at the knight carrying a brown shield with three stalks of wheat: the emblem of House Selmy of the Dornish Marches. Their knights were on par with the Daynes, and just as battle-hardened.

Though Aemond was skilled, he had never seen war unlike his opponent, and you could not help but feel anxious as you watched him guide his courser into the lane. He was starting out with Ser Selmy on his left. No matter how many times you watched Aemond joust, you always felt a sense of apprehension about his blind side. You did not know how he saw without his missing eye; you only knew how much he struggled after losing it, training with Ser Criston day and night, determined to regain his balance and aim, determined to take back what he'd lost…

Both warriors readied themselves. Selmy did not hold his reins, but Aemond did, so certain of his victory. Their lances were in hand, the ends rounded but no less dangerous.

The horses cried as they began.

Your heart pounded nearly as loud as the hooves beating against the ground. They race past one another and their weapons glanced against steel: Aemond’s lance on Selmy’s shield, splintering and bursting on contact; Selmy’s on Aemond’s arm. Neither faltered. As soon as your cousin was given a new lance, they resumed, with Selmy now charging on Aemond's right.

This time, Aemond’s lance crashed right into Selmy’s neck, just beneath his chin. The knight’s destrier screamed, nearly toppling over as Selmy was thrown off. The commons roared with delight, while all the nobles clapped politely—except for you. You could not help but stand on your feet and cheer in a distinctly undignified manner. When you looked down, Jace was studying you with amusement, and you could only grin.

Aemond, as always, rode over to where you sat. He looked up at you, mouth curled into a satisfied smile. You waved at him, practically hanging over the edge of the balcony.

“Well done, my Prince!” you exclaimed. “A splendid show as always! And against such a fearsome opponent, too!”

“Thank you, my lady, but you need not congratulate me yet. Other opponents equally fierce await me.”

“And you will best them as well,” you shouted, “for I have a great number of gold dragons staked on you! You are not allowed to lose!”

Aemond seemed amused. “If my lady wishes for my victory, then I would ask her for her help.”

You gave him a quizzical look. “My help?”

He held out a hand. “Your favour.”

You stared at him.

The nobles around you went quiet. You could feel the gazes of Queen Alicent and the Hand boring into you. Aemond One-Eye had never once asked a lady for her favour. To think that he was now asking for it—and asking it of you, a woman betrothed to another man—was pure scandal.

You glanced at Ser Arthur, whose gaze on Aemond was nearly piercing. This could only be part of Aemond’s play, you determined—an attempt at humiliation, and perhaps a feigned declaration of his intent to court you? The Tyrells could hardly ignore a Targaryen prince competing with their offer, even if he was doing it without the consent of his queen mother. If Aemond challenged Ser Arthur for your hand, it would complicate matters for them. You were unsure, though, if such a complication would deter them.

But Aemond told you to play along, so play along you did. You tossed at him your ring of blossoms and ribbon, and felt something in your chest twisting oddly as he caught them. No one had ever asked you for your favour before, and even though Aemond was doing it only as a ploy, it still made your heart pound to see someone wear your flowers.

“I don't imagine Ser Arthur will be happy about that,” Jace remarked after you sat down.

“Aemond is trying to slight the Tyrells.”

“I figured. Bold of him.”

“As is his disposition.” You settled back into your seat, trying to seem normal. “Well, now he has to win. I’ve bet a hundred gold dragons and my favour on him.”

“A hundred gold dragons?”

“I have inherited enough money to own half the city of Lys. A hundred gold dragons is nothing, especially when I will double it. A Lannister always pays his debts, you know.”

“You seem to have your father’s gift for making coin.”

“I only know when to hedge my bets.”

You both went quiet as several more rounds of jousting occurred. Ser Arthur was as fierce as the whispers told; he knocked a knight of Swann clean off his destrier, and even unhorsed the Dondarrion. Aemond eventually rode against Dayne and sent the great warrior crashing into the stands. They drew swords following the unhorsing, steel dancing and clashing violently. Aemond eventually forced the Marcher knight to yield.

The next time Aemond rode, he chose Ser Arthur for his opponent.

The commons cheered raucously, and every eye in the audience was heavy upon them. All throughout the stands, you heard people making their bets, and you sent Tyland Lannister a smile in reminder of your own. All the while, the two frontrunners for the tournament positioned themselves on opposite ends of the tiltyard. Ser Arthur was on Aemond’s left, you noticed, and your heart raced as the horses galloped.

Ser Arthur was formidable, and while Aemond was renowned for his skill, all the knights he'd chosen had still challenged him. He required two, three rounds to unseat most of them. Everyone expected a fight, an equal match of several rounds, perhaps even a swordfight—

But in a single, savage motion, Aemond’s lance speared right through Ser Arthur’s neck.

It took several moments for people to realise what had happened. Once they did, chaos gripped the crowd. Deaths happened occasionally during tourneys, but typically during melees, for the jousting lances were intentionally designed not to kill. And rarely was a death so stunning nor swift. Several women screamed at the sight of the bloodied lance, at the corpse that was falling from its horse; many of the men roared and cheered. Across the stands, you noticed Lady Tyrell sitting still and quiet.

You did not react yourself. You only sat there, numb with disbelief. You could think only of one thing:

“Did”—you swallowed thickly—“H-how did he do that? Was that on purpose?”

“I don't know,” Luke replied, voice trembling, but Jace sounded confident when he replied, “No. It was an accident.”

You turned to him. “How are you so certain?”

He seemed stoic when he replied—not cold or cruel, but solemn. Dignified in the face of death. “Aemond has a habit of aiming for the upper chest or neck when he jousts,” he explained. “You saw it for yourself, didn't you, with that knight of House Selmy? It is a brutal move, but not fatal. The gorget protects the opponent. But”—Jace frowned—“did you see the gorget on Ser Arthur? It wasn’t fastened correctly.”

You did not know what a gorget was or how one would see that it was loose, but you trusted Jace. “And Aemond would not have noticed?”

Jacaerys looked troubled. “I might have. But Ser Arthur was on his left…”

Aemond’s blind side, you realised.

“Then,” you asked, “who exactly is to blame?”

“I did not think the day would ever come that I would defend my uncle, but I don't believe that Aemond is at fault. It would be Ser Arthur’s squire, if anyone were to be held accountable—though such blunders are not unusual for an inexperienced squire. It was strange that Ser Arthur himself did not notice. He is—was—an experienced knight. He should know how his armour feels.”

“Aemond goaded Ser Arthur to anger,” you said, thinking not only of the favour, but their incensed conversation the night before, “so he was likely too distracted to notice. People are stupid when they're angered.”

The thought unsettled you, but Jace seemed unbothered. “You're speaking true. That is precisely why anyone would try to anger their foes before a battle—a stupid opponent is a weak one. It is not foul play that Aemond did so.” He gave you a pitying look. “Still, this is a tragedy. I am sorry for the loss of your betrothed.”

“You need not be,” you said, and you nearly added I had no desire to marry a raper anyway, until you remembered that you were in a crowd. “It is no one's fault, as you said,” you recovered. “I cannot blame anyone. I only mourn for Ser Arthur and his family.”

You tried not to wince as you remembered them. It was an accident, Jace had explained—but the death of a Tyrell son at the hands of a Targaryen prince would still be cause for strife and offence. You dreaded the consequences, and they loomed over you for the rest of the jousts.

The crowd, however, moved quickly past Ser Arthur’s tragedy. They cheered as the last several rounds finished, and by the time Aemond Targaryen unhorsed his final opponent, it was as if he had not just killed a knight. The commons cheered for him raucously, the nobles clapped and nodded in approval. It felt like you were alone in your discomfort—the only one suspicious of the incident.

You were so deep in your musings that you nearly did not realise it when Aemond was given his crown of winter roses to bequeath upon his chosen queen. The crowd murmured in curiosity as he drew toward them, though you watched almost with boredom. Aemond was utterly disinterested in the pageantry of tournaments, and nearly skipped the crowning the first time he won one. It was only at the urging of the crowd that he crowned his sister in his first year, then his mother in the next—with the least enthusiasm possible both times. Doubtlessly, he would crown one of them again.

You almost thought he made a mistake when he stopped in front of you.

“Who else should I crown as the queen of love and beauty,” he declared, a nearly roguish smile on his face, “other than my lady cousin?”

Although the crowd gasped in equal parts shock and delight, you only stared at him, aghast. “Me?”

He raised a brow. “Are you so surprised? You are the loveliest and most beautiful here to my eye, my lady. The title suits you well.”

You were stunned. Dumbstruck. You could not match this bold flattery to the Aemond you knew: a man who focused only on duty and politics, and who seemed utterly dispassionate about both marriage and women. Staring at the man before you, you wondered if he had been replaced by a changeling—or perhaps he had been possessed by some kind of demon?

But where you were confused, the younger girls around you seemed only excited. Cheers and giggles erupted around you. Ladies who had never in their life wanted to speak with you were now suddenly enamoured with you—or perhaps enamoured with Prince Aemond, who was known for his cold behaviour and complete disinterest in matters of courtly love. But right now Aemond was the very image of a gallant prince rather than a terrifying killer, and all the girls around you must have been excited by it.

Several of them urged you forward:

“Go on, my lady! Go on!”

“You can't turn down a prince!”

“Especially not Prince Aemond, of all people!”

“Who knew he was such a romantic!”

“Who knew! He must be serious in his intent to court you, my lady!”

“Yes, yes—he is always seen with you, is he not? Oh, I know the whispers were false, but he must truly wish to be your lover!”

“It is as they say, my lady. He wishes so badly to crown you, just see how he is looking at you! Do not keep him waiting!”

Never had you gotten so much approval from strangers. It was as foreign and unfamiliar as the experience of receiving attention from a man that was not absolutely repulsive and violating. You had never once imagined in your life that someone would ever want to crown you at a tournament or display such gallantry toward you, and it deeply affected you. Rather than feeling the butterflies of a newly discovered love, however, you were so overwhelmed that you only wanted to throw up.

Giving Jace a mildly terrified expression, you made your way down the stands. You tried not to look at Queen Alicent as you did, trying to avoid what you were sure was a gaze of complete wrath.

When you were finally on the tiltyard, facing Aemond, he dismounted from his courser. Even standing before him, you were convinced that he was confused, that this was some kind of error, that he was unwell or mad or had some other lady cousin you did not know of. Nevertheless, he laid the crown of roses upon your head, its blooms so blue and rare that the crowd exclaimed at their beauty.

Even though the masses were unrepentant in their delight, you could only give Aemond a blank look.

“What are you doing?” you asked in Valyrian, and he replied in kind.

“Courting you—was that not obvious?”

“Of course it is obvious. I am asking why.”

“It will be difficult for another house to request your hand if it means angering the Targaryen prince who rides the largest dragon in the world.” He looked self-satisfied. “Our family is known for madness, after all. People generally do not want to provoke it in us.”

You felt a headache coming on, disbelieving that this was his brilliant plan. And it still remained to be seen whether he had meant to kill Ser Arthur—for despite Jace’s staunch belief in his uncle’s innocence, the thorns upon your head led you to doubt him.

“You are mad for doing this, cousin,” you said.

“Perhaps. But have I not solved the problem of your betrothal?”

“For now. But we will be forced into this ruse of courtship, and once we stop, we will once again face the same problem.”

He smiled. He took your hand into his, and even though this was not his first time doing this, you were still startled when he pressed his lips to your knuckle. This time, your heart pounded in reaction and there was a mildly concerning flutter in your stomach.

Aemond replied only once he returned your hand to you, his expression as amused as it was cunning.

“Why need we ever stop?”

END PART V

hiii thank you for reading <3 i hope everyone enjoyed aemond's freak behaviour in this!

now that this chapter is out of the way, I would like to discuss a major shortcoming of this story. I did not have the foresight to write the earlier chapters in a way that expanded on the psychic damage that years of gendered microaggressions and sexual harassment has had on the reader. it was something I didn't want to focus on because I just wanted to have fun writing about some court politics and romance lol, but I've realised that it's going to play a very big role in the future of this fic (rip).

I've tried to introduce some of it here through aemond's pov, but I do want to emphasize how much of an influence it has had on the reader's mentality. it actually has even passively influenced the narrative even though I was actively trying to avoid writing about it - for instance, it's partly why she has zero expectations for ever having a romance, why she has no romantic/sexual experiences even though she gets a lot of attention, why she is very pragmatic about marriage, why she has no plans to have sex beyond a purely political marriage, etc... the trauma response does run even deeper than all of that though!

anyhow - thanks again for reading! please let me know if you enjoyed this. reblogs are greatly appreciated too! ^^

#aemond targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #wow im crossposting on time and not a week late for once LOL

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royreadstarot · 2 months ago

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❝ PICK A PILE ❞ ✧ ೃ༄

(Relationship Dynamics Edition)

Are you wondering how is the dynamic of your relationship, how to make it work and what will you learn? Pick a crystal!

Pile 1:

Your Energy: Queen of Cups

As the Queen of Cups, you’re embodying deep emotional intelligence and sensitivity. This card represents someone who is nurturing, intuitive, and compassionate. You’re likely bringing warmth and understanding to the relationship, offering support and empathy even in challenging moments. Your intuition is strong, and you may have an almost psychic sense of what the other person is feeling. This energy draws people in, as they feel safe and seen in your presence. However, the Queen of Cups also reminds you to set emotional boundaries and be cautious of losing yourself in the needs of others. While your caring nature is a gift, it's crucial to maintain your own emotional clarity and self-care practices.

Their Energy: Sun (Reversed)

With the Sun reversed, they may be dealing with confusion or a loss of clarity in their life. Where the Sun typically represents warmth, confidence, and openness, in reverse, it suggests self-doubt, hidden fears, or an inability to fully express themselves. They could be struggling to see the positive aspects of the relationship or their own potential, which could make them seem distant or even pessimistic. This card might indicate that they’re dealing with a period of introspection or searching for personal purpose. Their energy might feel a bit cloudy, and they could be guarded or hesitant, especially when it comes to opening up emotionally. This reversal encourages patience, as they may need time to find their way back to a brighter mindset.

Dynamics of the Relationship: The Chariot (Reversed)

The Chariot in reverse suggests a sense of stagnation or conflicting goals. While both of you may have strong feelings, there could be a struggle to align on a common direction. This card in reverse often points to a lack of control or feeling pulled in different directions, either by external pressures or personal ambitions. The relationship may feel like it’s spinning its wheels without gaining real traction. Miscommunication, unresolved tensions, or resistance to compromise may be stalling your progress as a couple. It’s a reminder that both parties need to actively steer the relationship to keep it moving forward and avoid getting lost in misunderstandings or ego battles. You both may need to evaluate your personal needs and decide on a shared path or purpose.

How to Make it Balance: The Moon

The Moon here invites you both to face your fears, insecurities, and hidden emotions to achieve balance. It calls for a deeper level of honesty and vulnerability in the relationship. There may be elements that are not entirely clear to either of you, whether it's unspoken feelings or underlying fears. By acknowledging these shadow aspects, you can better understand each other and bring a sense of unity to the relationship. The Moon also suggests that intuition and patience are key. Rely on your inner wisdom rather than trying to force clarity or immediate solutions. This journey may require you to be comfortable with ambiguity and to communicate openly about your uncertainties, both with each other and within yourselves. It’s a phase of growth through introspection, shedding light on hidden truths, and allowing space for authenticity.

Learning Outcome from the Relationship: Strength

Strength as the learning outcome highlights resilience, courage, and inner balance. This relationship is teaching you to cultivate self-confidence, compassion, and emotional endurance. Strength embodies taming inner fears and harnessing the power of vulnerability. You are likely learning how to maintain your own sense of self while offering kindness and understanding to another. Through this relationship, you’ll gain a deeper appreciation for emotional resilience and personal integrity. It may challenge you to find balance within, drawing on inner strength rather than relying solely on external validation. Ultimately, this connection is likely to make you stronger, wiser, and more centered in your values, preparing you for future relationships and personal growth.

Pile 2:

Your Energy: Queen of Cups (Reversed)

As the Queen of Cups reversed, your energy in this relationship suggests that you may be feeling emotionally unbalanced, perhaps struggling to manage your own needs and desires. This reversal points to emotional sensitivity, which might manifest as feeling overly reactive, insecure, or unable to fully express your true feelings. You could be taking on more emotional weight than is healthy, potentially sacrificing your own well-being in an attempt to support or understand the other person. In this reversed state, the Queen of Cups encourages you to reconnect with your inner voice, regaining emotional control by setting healthy boundaries and ensuring you’re not pouring more than you’re receiving. This card is a reminder that self-care and emotional grounding are essential, especially when it comes to maintaining equilibrium within yourself.

Their Energy: 8 of Pentacles (Reversed)

The 8 of Pentacles reversed suggests that they may be lacking focus or commitment in the relationship. This card typically represents hard work, dedication, and attention to detail; however, in reverse, it can indicate disinterest, avoidance, or a reluctance to invest deeply. They might be preoccupied with other areas of their life, or they could be feeling uncertain about putting in the necessary effort to maintain or grow the relationship. There’s a sense here that they may not be showing up fully, possibly distracted or unwilling to work through relationship challenges. This energy calls for reflection on whether they’re ready or willing to truly invest, or if they are holding back from committing on a deeper level.

Dynamics of the Relationship: The High Priestess

The High Priestess card in this position suggests that there are unspoken feelings, hidden truths, or underlying tensions in your relationship. It indicates a mysterious, introspective dynamic, where intuition and inner knowing play significant roles. The High Priestess speaks to a deep, almost spiritual connection, yet one that may not always be easily understood or communicated. This card points to secrets, repressed emotions, or unaddressed issues that lie beneath the surface. Both of you might be holding back parts of yourselves, choosing instead to silently observe and reflect rather than openly confront. While there is a strong, almost magnetic connection, there may be a reluctance to dive into certain conversations or to reveal vulnerabilities. The High Priestess encourages both of you to trust your intuition and to allow these hidden layers to unfold naturally.

How to Make it Balance: Three of Swords

The Three of Swords as guidance for balance is a challenging but essential message. This card represents pain, heartbreak, and difficult truths, suggesting that for true balance, painful emotions must be acknowledged and processed. There may be unresolved hurts or disappointments that need to come to the surface for healing. Rather than avoiding conflict or glossing over issues, it’s vital to face whatever heartache or discomfort exists between you openly and honestly. This might mean confronting unmet expectations, previous wounds, or misunderstandings head-on. While the process may be emotionally intense, it’s also a chance for healing and closure. This card emphasizes that without addressing these underlying pains, true harmony cannot be achieved. It encourages emotional courage and honesty to bring clarity and release.

Learning Outcome from the Relationship: Ten of Cups (Reversed)

The Ten of Cups reversed as the learning outcome points to a significant realization about fulfillment, happiness, and idealism in relationships. In its upright position, the Ten of Cups represents lasting joy and contentment, yet in reverse, it suggests disillusionment or unmet expectations. This relationship may be teaching you about the dangers of placing too much weight on idealized visions of happiness or fulfillment through another person. There may be an important lesson here about creating your own sense of inner contentment rather than relying on external sources or relationships to provide it. You may come to understand that true happiness doesn’t stem solely from others or from romantic ideals; rather, it must be cultivated within. Through this relationship, you’re likely to learn the importance of realistic expectations, self-fulfillment, and emotional independence. This experience can ultimately guide you toward a more grounded, authentic perspective on what it truly means to be happy in a relationship.

Pile 3:

Relationship Tarot Reading

Your Energy: Four of Cups

With the Four of Cups, you may be feeling emotionally detached, withdrawn, or unfulfilled in the relationship. This card represents a sense of stagnation or apathy, as though something about the connection isn’t quite meeting your needs or expectations. You could be focused on what feels lacking or unsatisfactory rather than seeing what’s present. There may be feelings of boredom or a reluctance to engage deeply, possibly stemming from unresolved emotions or unmet desires. The Four of Cups encourages introspection to understand where this disconnect is coming from. Are there unaddressed issues, or is there something within yourself that needs attention and healing? By turning inward and reflecting on your true emotional needs, you can gain clarity on what will genuinely fulfill you.

Their Energy: Nine of Swords (Reversed)

The Nine of Swords reversed shows that they might be emerging from a period of anxiety, worry, or mental anguish. This card suggests they’ve likely been wrestling with internal struggles—perhaps fears or insecurities that have kept them in a cycle of self-doubt. In its reversed form, the Nine of Swords indicates a willingness to confront and release these anxieties, though they may still feel somewhat guarded or fragile. While they’re starting to let go of past worries or overthinking, they may not yet be fully open or confident, as traces of this struggle could still be affecting how they show up in the relationship. They are in a healing process, working on moving beyond these mental barriers to be more present and grounded. Compassion and understanding of their journey can be helpful here, as they navigate this inner turmoil.

Dynamics of the Relationship: Queen of Pentacles (Reversed)

The Queen of Pentacles reversed suggests a lack of stability or grounding in the relationship, likely due to unmet practical or emotional needs. This card in reverse can indicate neglect or a sense that nurturing energy has been lost, with one or both partners possibly feeling unsupported or taken for granted. There might be an imbalance in the giving and receiving within the relationship, leading to feelings of exhaustion or frustration. This reversed Queen points to a need for both partners to prioritize care, nurturing, and a sense of shared responsibility. The dynamics may feel materially or emotionally “off,” with each of you potentially more focused on individual needs than on fostering a mutually supportive foundation. There’s a reminder here to cultivate a relationship that feels both nurturing and secure, rather than one based on convenience or neglect of essential needs.

How to Make it Balance: Three of Pentacles

The Three of Pentacles encourages collaboration, teamwork, and building a shared foundation to bring balance to the relationship. This card is a call to work together constructively, appreciating each other’s strengths and contributions. It suggests that open communication and a willingness to actively engage in solving issues together are key. Rather than trying to manage everything independently, it’s important to view the relationship as a partnership where both partners invest effort and share responsibility. This card advocates for recognizing each other’s unique qualities and creating a space where both feel valued and understood. By establishing a cooperative dynamic, you can build trust and stability, bringing harmony to the relationship. Practical steps, such as setting shared goals or openly discussing how you can support each other’s needs, can strengthen the bond.

Learning Outcome from the Relationship: Five of Cups

The Five of Cups as the learning outcome indicates that this relationship may bring lessons around processing loss, disappointment, and the need for acceptance. This card represents grief, but also the potential for healing and growth. Through this connection, you may learn how to face unfulfilled expectations or regrets with resilience. The Five of Cups reminds you that even in moments of sorrow, there’s always something left standing—perhaps something valuable that you hadn’t yet appreciated. This relationship is teaching you about the importance of acceptance and the ability to move forward despite setbacks. By allowing yourself to feel and process these emotions fully, you can emerge stronger, with a clearer sense of what you want in future relationships. Ultimately, the Five of Cups offers the opportunity to let go of the past, to see beyond what was lost, and to find gratitude for the lessons learned.

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hwaightme · 1 year ago

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🩺 pairing: paediatrician!bf!seonghwa x neurosurgeon!gn!reader 🩺 genre: fluff, doctor au, established long-term relationship, festive fic 🩺 summary: in the early hours of a shared night shift right before christmas, the present turns into a gift, and seonghwa can't be happier and more in love 🩺 wordcount: 7.8k total 🩺 warnings/tags: slightly edited, the fluff is strong, simpery is real, two doctors with heart eyes, marriage, proposals, family, hwa is yearing, woo cameo, woo+hwa banter, yeo+yunho mention, mom+kid side ocs, needles/syringes, injections, hospitals, night shifts, unconventional marshmallow toasting, a lot of love and sharing life <3 🩺 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🩺 a/n: happy holidays and merry christmas~ the idea for this was in the drafts for ages, reignited hardcore by @starrysvn(...the cameos hehet), and it feels right for the festive season~ much love! comments, reblogs, notes all appreciated

Clean and comforting. The poster-room of an office, personalised, and yet retaining all the professional qualities necessary. The gentle swaying of the tulle that transformed the twinkling of a myriad of skyscrapers outside and a magnificent deep navy and inky black star-filled sky into a soothing haze, the ticking of a clock adorned with illustrations from the doctor’s favourite franchise. There was a unity even in the multicoloured shelves and cupboards. Stickers, kindly left behind by particularly pleased, proud and excited patients turned into permanent decorations on the sides of the otherwise strictly uniform desk, bringing relief and encouragement to its occupant. The newest additions - a small desk Christmas tree that was decorated on theme with the rest of the space, and a couple of garlands elegantly hung on the top cupboards and above the tulle served as reminders that it was, in fact, the festive season, and celebrations were only a day away. Even so, healthcare could not take a holiday, and the hospital was busier than ever.

“Hey… do you like… Lego?”

It had been long enough since the beginning of the appointment, as Doctor Park Seonghwa had noted, but the little patient sitting in front of him was still refusing to succumb to the wrath of a ‘spooky scary needle that makes him go ouchy’. Seonghwa could not blame the boy though - if there was something he never did, it was to project a child’s behaviour outwards into adult societal expectations. As a matter of fact, he rarely did that for adults too. He never saw the point, nor did he wish to impose some alternative spin on reality onto anyone who he had the pleasure of meeting, especially his patients or their relatives. As L/N Junseo crossed his arms in disapproval, Seonghwa could not help but spin a tiny fraction on his stool that he used during appointments such as this, and sneak another piece of sporadic scrutiny towards the mother. As he had assumed, there was little comfort to be offered from her side - she was sitting in a corner across the room, fanning herself and sending worried glances in the approximate direction of both the doctor and her son.

So, he had no choice left. He had to pull the most powerful weapons out of his arsenal - inspired by the many pieces that served as baubles on his desktop tree. Seonghwa was grateful that he had the foresight to not unpack the disposable syringe before checking the kid’s tolerance. Judging by the smile that spread across the boy’s face, and the confused expression gracing his mother’s, Seonghwa knew he hit the jackpot and there was potential for him to catch a break if the appointment did not run over, and if he was lucky enough, perhaps the main reason behind his rush would be free too. The simple thought inadvertently crawled into Seonghwa’s mind, and he lowered his gaze to suppress a shy smile and return to being the amiable paediatrician that he needed to be.

“Now, mister Junseo, will you wait a couple of seconds for me?” After receiving his patient’s enthusiastic nods of approval, he spun around on his stool, and rolled towards the cabinet that occupied the majority of the right wall of his office.

Stopping himself from crashing into his desk with a fast hand, he opened one of the lower doors to reveal a series of colour coded and labelled trays, each one filled to the brim with even more vibrant hues, but maintaining a strict order. Pulling the first and then the second tray from the top, the doctor inspected the contents, and decided to give the final decision to Junseo, turning to him with a grin on his face.

“Dinosaurs or spaceships?”

“Spaceships!” just as Seonghwa had thought, this question broke through the storm clouds of doubt and fear, cutting right down to Junseo’s primary interests, some of which the young doctor just so happened to share – the only difference was that the latter had to also remember that he had a job to do, and that job involved convincing, or cleverly deceiving with good intentions, a little kid into a routine shot. It was hard not to wonder what your, his life partner’s, reaction would be if you were in this room with him, considering that this environment was probably the furthest a space from your natural habitat - the operating room, could be.

“A man of good taste I see. I mean, dinosaurs are cool too, but I will let you in on a little secret… I have matching spaceship band aids,” As he pulled out the tray that contained some pre-built spaceships, with the bricks being from a younger-child-friendly set, along with stray pieces that turned the set into the perfect cognitive and sensory exercise, Seonghwa took time to explain his actions to the boy. In a way this was not too dissimilar from the preparation of instruments for surgery, so perhaps you would find joy in this interaction to the same extent as him. He shook his head lightly, reeling himself back to the matter at hand.

Sometimes, Seonghwa pondered whether too much of his budget, and, on occasion, personal finances, went towards making his office be more of a playground than what one would imagine ‘a doctor’s lair’ to be – in his mind, that was your office, one that he visited enough times to memorise. An ode to modernity, with books and documents, diagrams and an anatomically accurate model of a brain with various labels - just what one would expect of a real doctor. But both fortunately and unfortunately, this was a style that Seonghwa would not attempt to achieve in his own office. There was a mat on the floor made out of foam puzzle pieces, there was every form of toy transport he could find, animals, dolls… he swore he appeared in toy stores more regularly than in the pharmacy at this point. But the joy with which his patients’ faces lit up was more than encouraging, reminding him that he was on the right path, he was doing well, and that everything was worth it.

“NO WAY!” Junseo yelled out, excitedly kicking his feet. The paper towels that lined the bench rustled slightly, the link between the sheets being stress tested – much like the mother, who appeared to be speechless, but at least no longer faint.

Seonghwa imagined that his present conclusions and responsive actions were not too distant from how teachers felt when they saw a certain type of action be executed by a child, and then saw its origins during parent teacher conferences. The conclusion had come to his mind on its own accord but resounded loudly enough for him to send a reassuring gleam to Missus in the corner, and observe her delayed reactions as she, evidently, was battling the instinct to throttle him to the ground and save her child from danger. How wild and fascinating the generational sharing of fears and burdens was. Seonghwa turned his attention back to the star of the show, who was eagerly waiting for the eloquently advertised, and much anticipated, spaceships.

“Yes way! And I can show them to you later.” Seonghwa responded with a chuckle, setting the tray next to the boy, making him turn to the side and better expose the arm that was to receive the intramuscular injection. Even though Junseo was now fully immersed in the toy provided, he still expressed his gratitude, forcing the man to use every ounce of strength in him to not melt.

“Thank you so much Doctor Park!”

"No, thank you! Lego is my favourite, you know, but if you picked dinosaurs, you could have heard my tyrannosaurus rex impression." He could hear some shuffling outside of the room, turning into a thud as he introduced his ‘special ability’ when it came to distraction tactics. It was straining, conducting all his appointments without a nurse, since quite a number had arranged to go on holiday for Christmas, including his favourite in the form of a tall man with the brightest smile and enough energy to power the whole building - Jeong Yunho. Was it a challenge for Seonghwa? Perhaps, but he was coping. Besides, would he really want anyone here with him except a certain someone who was not even in this specialisation?

"Awh... no... but that sounds so fun I wanna hear, I wanna hear!!!" The cute boy was practically begging, giving Seonghwa his best puppy dog eyes with a turn of his head – that would not do for the doctor’s mission, however, Junseo needed to be practically in a different realm for it to work.

"Could you attach this jet engine please?" In the softest voice he could muster, Seonghwa guided attention back to the spaceships, commenting on how well Junseo was assembling them. He infinitely admired the ability that children had to disregard common practices, ignore rules and simply create. As Junseo would get older, he would undoubtedly have to succumb to standardisation, but in the meantime, he could enjoy picking a wild palette of coloured bricks, not think about astrophysics when constructing the ships, and be perfectly satisfied with what he was crafting.

"Mhm..."

Using the moment of distraction, Seonghwa turned and reached for the hand sanitiser pump on his desk, cleaning his hands. With practised motions, as he returned to his seat in front of the kid, the doctor took out the prefilled syringe out of the pocket of his white coat, peeling the decontamination seal to fish the item out. He had a small window of opportunity and needed to act fast to seize it. From the other pocket, he produced a packet with an alcohol swab, carefully tearing it, as far away from Junseo as possible so that he would not be shocked by the smell.

"Now, Junseo, could you sit a little closer to me, so... oh thank you!" The child obediently shuffled, not taking his eyes off the Lego pieces. "You might feel a little cold on your arm, but don't worry I will roar that away, okay, you with me? Ah wait, how do we make that ship the strongest in the galaxy?" breath in, breath out. Watching the child’s movements so that he would not accidentally hurt himself. Lifting the sleeve of the t-shirt the Junseo was wearing ever so slightly, Seonghwa crept towards the bench on his wheeled stool, praying to every higher power that he would be done with this appointment soon, but retaining his professionalism. It was now or never.

"Imma show you-"

"Nyaaaaaaah~"

As soon as Seonghwa started, he was done, and the syringe was long hidden behind his back as he pressed a cotton ball to the area, though Junseo could not care less, having broken into a fit of giggles over the interesting interpretation of a t-rex. No matter how exhausted he was, this was one of the things the doctor lived for – having the ability to make medicine, doctor’s visits, and hospitals just a little bit less miserable for the little ones, something of a game or an adventure, him being of the opinion that these pocket-sized humans did not deserve to be exposed to the struggles quite yet. If it was in his power, he would have changed the ‘quite yet’ to never, but that was far too utopian, and something wiped out of him in first year of medical school. So, Doctor Park simply tried his best.

"DOCTOR PARK THAT WAS NOT A ROAR!!!" Junseo proclaimed, still giggling as he clutched onto a bright green brick. Seonghwa chuckled, sliding to the left to dispose of the syringe in a biohazard bin, stretching himself out so that he could still keep holding the cotton ball. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the mother beginning to come to her senses, the ‘high alert’ mode dropping to a more manageable, generally healthy parental worry.

"Then come on, show me what you've got. I bet you have a-"

"ROOOOOOOOOAAAAAR!!!" With him being startled by what he should have expected, he could not help but throw a glance at the other adult in the room, finding her surprised. Hands clasped together, she whispered ‘goodness gracious’, and upon finding out that she had a one-man audience, gave a sheepish grin and looked down. Seonghwa was calming down from his ‘performance’, the doctor, actor, caregiver and child-friendly comedian in him began to leave his body, giving way to a straightforward happiness of a man who could see that he helped out people in need.

"Wow now that is IMPRESSIVE Mister Junseo! Ah wait, could you hold this for me?” he gestured towards the cotton ball, and once the boy complied, backed away to get some more hand sanitiser. “We are done!"

"Huh? Wait... no ouchy?" genuinely confused, the toddler asked, dropping the Lego pieces entirely and blinking in slow motion.

"We scared the ouchy away with spaceships and your awesome roar, didn't we?"

"WE DID!! WE DID!!" With the cotton forgotten, Junseo was about to hop off the bench, his hands pressed into the dark grey material he had been sitting on, but before he could Seonghwa caught him, easily picking the boy up in his arms despite the weight that it put on him. After all, patients came first, and this was always a clear sign that he was trusted – besides, the kid did not have any other ailments, so a little hug would not hurt anyone, especially not Seonghwa’s soul.

"We did! I promised you a cool band aid too so... ah hold on let me... watch your head please." With Junseo still in his arms, Doctor Park ambled towards the other side of the office, closer to where the mother was now standing, to reach into one of the shelves and retrieve the packet of what he considered to be something akin to achievement stamps. A final well done from him to the patient, for being so courageous and letting Seonghwa poke them with a needle.

The rest of the appointment went by in a blur. The boy was safely back in his mother’s arms, sporting a colourful bandaid, babbling away about spaceships, quietly repeating Seonghwa’s dinosaur impression, and emphasising for the umpteenth time that ‘the injection actually did not hurt at all’, much to the mother’s delight. She looked to be on cloud nine as she held her bundle of joy, and even though he was bouncing on her lap to the point where the doctor would assume that she was in discomfort, the woman showed no sign, and instead gleamed at him, expressing genuine gratitude.

"So sorry for all the trouble and that I could not help in any way, please accept my-"

"No need no need! Junseo is such a sweet boy, and it was all his bravery in the end. I am just doing my job." He tried to assure her, flipping through the vaccination booklet she had provided and filling out the details of the shot. While checking the date just in case, despite him having a mental countdown to Christmas with the precision down to an hour practically built into his brain, he still noted the clock on his computer, memorising the time in order to figure out when approximately you would be done with the surgery you had arranged for this evening. Maybe he would have enough time to stop by your department, and manage to catch you there to ask about what plans for celebration you two would dare have in between busy schedules. His attention was guided back to the jovial duo on the armchair, as the mother spoke once more.

"You perform miracles, Doctor Park. Really. You are truly one of a kind! Before today I was convinced that he was wired to cry at every appointment..." she lowered her voice a little, just as Junseo turned away to pick at one of his trouser pockets.

"If you are worried about him developing any phobias and the like, I can recommend some amazing medical experts who can work with you and him?" Whenever anyone voiced a concern, he took it as part of his responsibility to respond wholeheartedly, and as such, once he completed the record, offered assistance. Perhaps this was also a safe zone for him, a removal from what otherwise would inevitably make his heart melt or ache. But to no avail.

"Oh no, no, I think I found the cure right here. Really, my husband will be so impressed about this!”

Husband. Happy family. There it was. Seonghwa felt the corner of his mouth twitch as he lifted himself off his chair, shut the booklet and returned it to the mother, and wife. It was difficult to convince himself that this was not jealousy tugging at his nerves and heartstrings, as the more he pondered the image of what had to be a perfect union, the dinners, the days out in the park, the little meet ups for lunch if either partner was otherwise busy… the domesticity got to him and made him want to slam the table in frustration. So, he did the next best thing, and clasped his hands behind his back so that he would not dare act out of line.

“Is that so?” he forced out, remaining composed as he returned the mother’s bows while she ushered her son forward and stood up to head for the door. He could not help but imagine the duo walking under the lights that adorned every shop, every street and coming home to their own tree, coming together as a small family in a cosy atmosphere. Similar routines, similar time off, the space to love and to live and to enjoy being ‘one’ to the fullest.

“I think he will want to come with us next time, to meet you, really… of course if you don't mind us scheduling check-ups with you from now on?" meet him… so Seonghwa could see the whole assembly… Really, right in the moment when his head was filled with thoughts of you, he had to be reminded of just how adorable some aspects of paediatrics could be, to the degree of malicious irritation.

He bet that the reason why you were so relaxed about your relationship was because you were not in direct contact with families and cute kids, for the most part. The closest you came to communicating with patients was in briefing, de-briefing and maintenance of their condition pre- and post- operation. He had to see the bad and good, the downs and ups, the rollercoasters and the memorable highs over long periods of time. Some of his patients he had known for so long, they were basically his relatives, and the personifications of sunshine that would rush to greet him, nearly stumbling over tiny shoes and sometimes barely reaching his waist, or even mid-thigh, restored his faith in the universe. It was exactly because he was aware of the downsides, and still desired this closeness and this next step with you, that he was cursing time itself for not allowing him to express this hope properly. Sure, you had discussed marriage, and both of you were more than committed to one another, but no words had been said about the part where someone popped the question. Was there ever going to be ‘the right time’? Especially when both of you were at the early stages of your medical careers, and were caught adrift in the chaotic shifts, training, exams and had to sacrifice yourselves for thousands who came through the doors of the hospital.

"Ah, whatever you would prefer, Missus Hwang. It would be an honour.” He squashed his nerves for the remainder of the appointment, and peacefully parted with the two visitors to KQ Hospital, wishing them the happiest holidays and for a stable recovery from the vaccination.

Seonghwa remained standing in the corridor, his back propping the door to the office. Closing his eyes, he listened to the opening of the elevator, and let out a breath he did not know he had been holding once Junseo’s excited, shrill voice was muted by the doors. Gears moved into action as the machine carried the mother and son away from the paediatric ward. The doctor rolled his head in an attempt to relieve at least some of the tension that had built up from the back-to-back out-patient care, the abominable late nights, and the vexatious haze that plagued him in his own life.

It was going to be a long night. And he was barely a quarter of the way through his night shift; perhaps the winter cold and the shorter days were to blame for the melancholy mood. As he straightened himself up once more, Seonghwa instinctively reached for the phone that was hidden in the pocket of his black trousers, hoping for any kind of distraction. Checking the time, messages, whether you had even seen his text about the maintenance people coming to check the plumbing next week… any sign that there was a world beyond his job. But the communication flatlined, and he resorted to simply staring at his lockscreen: a picture of the two of you during that one vacation that you had managed to book together. The one where, three days in, both of you had severe work withdrawal, but thankfully laughed it off and soothed the pain by falling asleep in each other’s arms. That was what he missed. The simple things. If there was one thing he wished for this Christmas, it was for you and him to spend it together - no one else, no pagers going off incessantly, no family members intruding on your time, not even friends. He missed you, even though you were right there. Of course, he still felt blessed to be able to embrace you almost every time you two would be floating into dreamland - be it in the morning or in the evening, aside from when shifts did not align, but he craved more, always. Maybe he was being greedy, wanting for even more of your time. Nonetheless, he hoped that his readiness to sacrifice all of his for you would, at some point, result in his most romantic dreams, akin to castles in the sky, coming true. He wished to well and truly build a life with you. Seonghwa had never thought that he would pay so much attention to labels, but something about settling down officially, being together ‘in sickness and in health’, as he had heard in the vows at his friends’ weddings, was leaving him in a state of longing, constantly, until it was a permanent buzzing in his head.

"So... Doctor Seong-nyah-" rudely tearing through his daydreams, a familiar voice startled the doctor, causing him to gasp and shove his mobile phone into his pocket with panicked haste.

"Wooyoung, don't test me, you are not my patient." Seonghwa gasped, and retorted with sudden venom, spinning to face the man who, evidently, had been loitering around in the corridor behind him for a lot longer than he would ever accept.

"But I want a sticker or a bandaid please~"

But the action only resulted in a stupor, as right there, hands in pockets, the ghost of a mischievous smile on perfectly tinted lips, was his favourite person. Doctor L/N Y/N, neurosurgeon, and definitely the one who had changed his brain wiring to short circuit every time he saw you. Before Wooyoung got any cheekier due to the lack of a response and the less than discreet gawking from Seonghwa’s end, he forced out a random commentary; anything to keep himself from going into cardiac arrest.

"You keep stealing my Disney princess ones anyways!?"

"Can't help it. Besides I've seen you snatch the toy sword so consider us even."

A light blush was threatening to coat his cheeks as he gazed at you, mesmerised by your cheerful reaction. Without a doubt you were imagining the scene, and had you been alone, would coo at ‘just how endearing’ it was. This was not the kind of ‘break between appointments’ that he was imagining, and while you were here, before him, very obviously free, Seonghwa was questioning whether this was a manifestation of luck or a curse.

"That was for safety… and… uh… hello my love.” he mumbled, while you smiled at him, and gave him a gentle wave, already anticipating that even if you were to speak, you would crack and reveal what you had been planning - a major step forward that had been plaguing your mind at almost all hours, even in rare snippets of quiet. Technically, what you had said to Seonghwa was true - it had been an operation, just of a different kind. Careful to not let the mandatory Santa hat you had tugged on your head as part of your department’s senior residents’ effort to ‘keep the spirits up’ slip, you adjusted it to be more snug, and rapidly returned your attention to your boyfriend, who was intently studying you, admiring every detail as though he had not seen each one a million times over.

"Y/N here found the dinosaur impression cute, just so you know." Stuck in a limbo between locking himself in his office and throttling Wooyoung to the ground, Seonghwa chose neither and was simply amazed at how you could remain so nonchalant.

"Were both of you… listening to the… but that is not-”

You and Wooyoung exchanged a knowing look, causing suspicion to rise in Seonghwa. He was not fond of it. Not in the slightest. There was something brewing, and that glint in your eyes was less than reassuring. What were you hiding from him? A million questions a second ran through his mind as he subjected you to scrutiny. First off, you had said that the surgery could be challenging. And yet he could not detect the slight furrowing in your brows, the slouch, the pursed lips that you normally had if you were monitoring a patient in critical condition.

"They were around the department, and I just so happen to know that you are a certified clown so..." Wooyoung began, purposefully winding the taller man up until he was ready to break the Hippocratic oath and cause harm.

"Says the person who can literally replace the fire alarm with his-"

“This is why you should follow my methods and do the whole ‘energy drink and coffee” cocktail before those ghostly long shifts, I tell you-” crossing his arms, Wooyoung appeared to be enjoying every moment he spent teasing his fellow colleague, ignoring how you were starting to get impatient, glancing down the corridor and back to the bickering friends.

“How even-”

"Well, I would more than like to consult the lovely, charming clown please, because I have a whole circus on my hands and need some help.”

That was all that was needed to regain all attention back. Seonghwa gave Wooyoung one last sidelong stare before focusing on you, attempting to figure out just what you were scheming. He knew better than to pry, however, if there was anyone in your relationship who was an expert in dissecting, be it literally or metaphorically, it would be you. That was exactly why he stood and waited with bated breath, fingertips dancing on his upper thigh. In trepidation, the young man’s mind replayed every shared moment with unfathomable clarity, leading him to wonder if this mischievous glint in your stunning orbs was further foreshadowing, much like your sudden announcement that you would be working the same hours as him today, and upon questioning passed it off as “a bit of Christmas luck”.

“Right…” Wooyoung’s voice appeared distant, barely audible against the thrum of nervousness and lighthearted suspicion. Running a hand through his wavy, neatly parted long hair Seonghwa gave you a lopsided grin before following you down the corridor and giving his colleague an amiable wave, along with a cheerful call of “see you later”. His friend had the whole night ahead of them - much like you and Seonghwa. Except, unfortunately, you and your partner were floors, departments away. Not that far in the grand scheme of things, but far enough for Seonghwa’s heart to start hurting when he least expected it.

Just like now, despite you being within arm’s reach, the proximity reminded him of just how much of a luxury such moments were, and how, should anything go wrong, you would metaphorically evaporate. The beeping of a pager would be enough to make you or him leave, that damned device having to be strapped on and prioritised above everything else. As less and less time remained until Christmas, the probability of it going off climbed higher and higher, so every step was a risk, and every scheduled consultation or out-patient care call when Seonghwa was mandated to hand off his monitoring duties to another resident - a temporary salvation.

You were in your scrubs, and were sporting a standard issue doctor’s coat, ever so professional. Though your back was facing him, Seonghwa could easily imagine the identity card clipped to the pocket above your heart, along with the embroidered hospital name and emblem, and your department. Neurosurgery. The top of the top, an art and a science so complex that Seonghwa was in awe of you eternally. How you dedicated your life to the mystery behind a person’s eyes, and how you could heal the terrifyingly enigmatic organ with astounding success. Determined, passionate in all ways, that was what had drawn the enamoured man to you, and what had made him fall deeper and deeper and vow to stay for as long as you would allow him. Would you be fine with him tagging along, just like this? Would you be willing to walk in the same stride?

“Hwa,” turning your head, you exclaimed your boyfriend’s nickname and then turned back to scan your pass to let you both through to another corridor, “how has your day been so far, lovely?”

“It’s been good, not too bothersome. Last appointment was a vaccination - not sure how or why the literal holidays were chosen for this, but who am I to judge,” looking around, Seonghwa responded. Quickly, he caught up to you, and in a matter of moments you felt how his fingers intertwined with yours, and his palm was pressed against you, as though a mirror image. Jigsaw pieces falling into a perfect union, your hands, stilled in harmony.

“Maybe not everyone wants to skip school,” you mused, poking fun at the times when your boyfriend did just that - at least before university and him choosing to major in medicine hit like a truck; in the blissful middle and high school days, so easy in retrospect - a fever dream.

“I’d love to hear what the little patient would think about that one… but really, Christmas? Why would you run the risk of having side effects over Christmas?”

“That’s true… but I bet you made the appointment a really good time. In fact, from what I have heard I am sure you did,” you teased, making Seonghwa squeeze your hand and click his tongue in pretend annoyance.

“Hey, I’m trying my best here-”

“-and you are making the world a better place,” you cut him off, squeezing back and urging him on, closer and closer to your final destination.

Seonghwa shook his head, bewildered at the sudden outburst of affection. You were normally not the kind to get too sappy at work - if anyone, it was him who would gush about the simplest things to you during a brief lunch break, while you would be nodding along with a grin on your face. You were excited about something, without a doubt. What it was, however, was beyond him, so he let you lead, while playfully questioning your behaviour.

“What’s gotten into you? Did you forget to put the plates back in the cupboard at home?” he squinted, slightly relieved when you chuckled but still left without a concrete answer:

“Can’t I praise the love of my life every once in a while?”

“You can, but-”

“-Besides, Yeosang, you know, my friend from paediatric neurosurgery, he said kids who you had treated talk about you non-stop. Maybe you should pay some of them a visit. If their treating doctors allow it, of course.”

Eyes widening, Seonghwa barely noticed you slipping away from him to grab a large bag you had stationed by a heavy exit door, and in bewilderment was concerned if he should believe your overwhelmingly kind message. All those little lives he had the honour of getting to know and trying his best to help… remembering him? It was at times like these, even the hardest days were worth it. For the present and for the future. He returned to reality only when he felt a gust of freezing cold air hit his form and goosebumps ran over his skin. Your proud, loving smile greeted him and encouraged him to walk on. When Seonghwa attempted to query your spontaneous adventurism, you waved it off - forward, only forward. Making a note of something fluffy in texture peeking out of the bag, he hoped for it to be at least a scarf; a doctor should know to not expose themselves to the risk of colds.

You led Seonghwa to one of the many secluded areas of the hospital - forgotten by most staff, this portion of the roof was the prettiest at night, when the lights of surrounding high rises and the rest of the metropolis stretching out as far as the eye could see all glimmered like a blanket of stars laid down on the precious planet. The city, forever awake, bustling with activity. A hand brushed against his upper arm, and he turned his head to see you holding his coat that he swore he had left in the call room. Gingerly, the article was in his grasp, and yet another question was travelling for you to tackle:

“Now when did you get this? I know I did not just leave it lying around.”

“Mhm, call room. Coat hanger. By the door. I am very aware. I picked it up on the way.”

“Sounds like someone had a lot of time…” trailing off, Seonghwa put on the coat, watching as you did the same. Apparently, that was not all that was in the bag, and with each item that was revealed, his surprise grew and grew.

“Just enough to prepare a little something,” in one swift movement, you caught your boyfriend off guard with sudden Santa hat attack - nearly covering his eyes with the white fluff, previously styled hair shooting out in different directions from under the accessory, you still deemed the mission successful, and giggled, elaborating: “now, we match.”

He could not not love you. Much like the nights in December were dark and his exhales turned to steam that was to be whisked away by the wind, he was confident in the fact that he was born to love you, and only you. It was funny to think that years ago he thought of other kinds of forever, only for them to fall apart in months. Seonghwa mused about different realities, but was never afraid of losing them until inevitably happened; not because he did not care at all, but because his heart was never in the right place. Now that his heart was home, it was clear. Most of all, the clearest sign of the truth that belonged to your relationship, was the subconscious fear, continuous and blended into every note of adoration. It was in his love for you that he found what it meant to be afraid to lose.

The young man did not want to lose these priceless moments - how you would make an elaborate plan and surprise him with it. How out of nowhere, before his very eyes was a blanket that you laid down on the roof, a portable heater that emitted a glow akin to that of a campfire, and a large wool throw that he assumed you wished to use to keep you both warm. That shine that he swore was coming from something heavenly within you as you dragged him to take a seat, your adorable cooing over him as you wrapped the two of you tight with the throw, and scooched until your body was pressed against his. On instinct, Seonghwa’s arm was around you, and he leaned in until he could smell the faint, comforting aroma of your strawberry shampoo. Staring into the heater, he imagined a gentle flame, falling into a beautiful daydream - a world where there was just you and him.

This was a long-standing fantasy of his, a picture of which he had painted for you many times while you counted stars on the ceiling of your bedroom, drifting off to sleep just before the chirping of the birds, the dawn bidding you farewell and wishing a good rest. Somewhere nowhere, in a place with no name, surrounded by no one and nothing, you two could stay for a little while and indulge in simplicity. An escape from the daily stresses, a dive into the daily bliss of being enamoured and having found one’s soulmate. In a little cottage that you two could rent out, with a little spot outside so you could pretend like you were properly camping, Seonghwa prayed for time in an earthly utopia.

“I couldn’t find sticks, So I hope you are fireproof,” a marshmallow was held between two delicate fingers right before his eyes. A large, white cloud and a hint that you might have been listening a lot more intently than you had let on.

“I- are we- are we about to be toasting marshmallows?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” the doctor followed your lead, stretching out his hand to the heater, imagining the marshmallow roast away; if Seonghwa were to squint hard enough, he could almost see the colour change.

A giggle escaped you, and you huddled into him, at peace due to the safety which you always said he naturally oozed. Without fail you told him how he was a walking spring day, a blessing, a shining star. The more you said it, the more confident he became in accepting the words as truth, and then, one day when he caught you admiring him from afar while waiting for him to finish rounds, acceptance turned into a fact. By loving you, and by letting you love him, Seonghwa learned to love himself. Thoughts of fond memories prompted him to give you a gentle poke, making you lift your head in perplexion. This, however, was quickly dispelled by a the sweetest kiss, deepened by a gentle hand that found purchase on the nape of your neck.

Lips so familiar, so addicting; each time they met was the kindling of a miniature paradise. A journey through time, to end only in the future, the present turned into a miracle in which he could immerse himself, all of his senses attuned to you. The touch of your lips was the rays of a sun in May, kind and soothing, blossoming into the finest beauty and the most satisfying serenity on verdant green leaves and gorgeous flowers. The only thing he could hear was the breeze creeping across the not quite as picturesque cement and metal, and the ghost of a mumble of “I love you” as you parted for air, still close enough to share it.

Lost in your eyes, Seonghwa wished he could never be found. He was willing to endlessly draw the maze that trapped him in them, adapting it to formulate a personal infinity. Eyelashes, eyebrows, nose, cheeks, lips, every blemish and freckle and scar were all priceless to him. You, in all your personal divinity, a universe that so intently studied him, loved every part unconditionally and invited him in to do the same. A symbiosis, a system of two stars orbiting one another - a gorgeous celestial waltz was how he saw you and him. Under the night sky full of constellations, you two were still the brightest. Seonghwa’s heart was full. He ever so softly let his hand slide to the side of your face, thumb gliding slowly over the skin of your cheek. Once, twice - perpetual motion, each one marking another second in which love grew stronger, and the yearning for his dream more intense. If only he could put it into words. And yet, courage only allowed him to muster a mere two which were far too general, ambiguous:

“Thank you.”

“I am glad we could do this,” you answered, sharing in his delight. You did not need anything else, seeing past the mellow, pleasant triviality.

“I think the only downside is that now I want to do this all the time,” his hand guided your head into the crook of his neck, so you could sit side by side, looking out into the urban expanse. Silence weighed on you, until a long-awaited suggestion reached Seonghwa’s ears.

“Well… we could. At least for Christmas.”

“As if we will be taking days off, yeah.”

“Who says we won’t?”

“I- huh?”

You took his hands in yours, and shuffled for you to be face to face. Much to your astonishment, when it came down to the critical moment when you would start being blatantly obvious in your intentions, you were not as anxious anymore. Everything felt more than right, and the comfortable quietude resembled the globe holding its breath for you.

“I have an idea,” your boyfriend was intrigued, but doubtful. He had hopes, sure, but he knew better than to keep them up, “so… ahem, well, for us it is standard practice to not schedule anything major on holidays, just in case, and thankfully I could… reschedule some things…”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded along, raising his eyebrow. Your hands held his more tightly on their own accord, shaking a little as you spoke.

“Well, so, yeah, you know how the head of… the head of paediatrics is a big family person right?”

“Yeah, comes with the job I suppose, and?” tongue darting over his lips, Seonghwa began to sense what you were getting at, and he swore there was not enough oxygen to sustain him, and a dizziness settled over his mind, clouding it, leaving behind only you, you, you-

“Hm… well… I think they would be more than happy to let a new family celebrate together… yeah?”

“...Yeah…yeah?”

“So what I’m saying is-”

“Will you marry me?”

“Beat me to it,” gleaming, you pulled him in, stopping a mere few millimetres away, seeking approval.

Hints of tears welling in his deep brown eyes induced your own. Pressed forehead to forehead, you memorised every tiny detail, how you felt, how Seonghwa felt, how you were both fondly mumbling ‘yes's and ‘always’s and ‘I love you’s over and over again; vows uttered at the beginning of a new chapter of a miraculous life, in perfect harmony.

“I’m sorry for the ‘no ring’ situation-”

“I’d marry you with paper rings,” Seonghwa responded at the speed of light, quoting one of the many songs that both of you loved to listen to, and would blast in the living room many times over, “how did you even plan this-”

“Don’t bash me, but Wooyoung was an accomplice-”

“Of course he was,” he flicked your nose with his and guided you into another kiss, your hat sliding away and almost falling to the ground, saved only by Seonghwa’s reflexes. Smiling against your lips, he only deepened the sensual expression of devotion, parting simply to confess,

“To think we were rehearsing the same thing but I was too scared to say it.”

“You are too precious. And I’m sorry if I’m too scary, angel,” you winked, earning an amused, airy laugh.

This could not be the furthest from how Seonghwa felt; the notion of you terrifying him was hilarious. Everything but you was the issue. You were his safe haven, his clarity. The one to whom he had already given away all his hours, be it in closeness or in his dreams both in the day and night. You were his and he was yours, and now that the one change he had been begging all the goodness in the galaxy for finally happened, he wanted to shout this from every rooftop, starting from this fated, isolated spot that must have been made for just you two.

“No, I am just more certain that you can read minds,” he gestured to the heater, the untouched marshmallows, the stars, and finally stopped at you, alluding to what was to be your proposal, turned mutual.

“Just because I poke around brains-” you began, only to be stopped by unparalleled cuteness in the form of a scrunched up face and a tiny smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, you aren’t even a cardiologist and you stole my heart-”

“Park Seonghwa, cease the flirting, we are getting married-” playfully, you slap his shoulder.

“Oh, you only saw the beginning,” a wiggle of the eyebrows. Your very soul fluttered at the sight of his megawatt grin, and the innocent peck left on your cheek.

“...I hope so,” your wish. To cherish the many sides, colours, shades, edges, angles of your spectacular Seonghwa.

“It’s decided. I’ll hit you with all the festive pick up lines starting tomorrow.”

As you settled back into an embrace, regarding the golden glow of your inner oasis that transposed onto all, previously dark, surroundings, you unwillingly played the role of the realist.

“Ask your department head first.”

“For a blessing?”

“No, silly, to confirm your freedom.”

“Yes, Doc’,” in jest, your fiance saluted you, and you wrapped your arms tighter around his waist, brushing your jaw against his shoulder.

“Page me after."

“I will page myself across the hospital to tell you.”

“Awh, my Seonghwa Claus and my present in one,” absent-mindedly, you reached for a stubborn strand of his hair to push away, and twirled it around your digits, careful to not ruin the perfect balance of the themed hat beneath which they tried to establish their own order, threatening to disturb your elated angel.

“My future spouse- oh I’ll be saying this so often.”

From one day to the next, under the sun and moon, with many seasons passing by, you became the time that you seeked and previously fought against. As you looked to one another for more and more in your lives, it was destined that eventually, the idea of any other path would be simply impossible. At the end of a year came a new beginning, witnessed by the observant stars and by the long winter night.

“Me too, my love, until I can call you my husband.”

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serve-832 · 19 days ago

Text

The SERVE-Brand

"You know what, Derek?" Paul said as they strolled through the bustling streets, the chilly December wind biting at their ears. "This shopping is more hectic than finals week."

Derek chuckled, his breath forming small puffs of fog. "You're not wrong. And the struggle of finding that perfect gift for mom and dad is real."

As they turned the corner, they couldn't help but notice a group of men marching in eerie synchronicity. Their black rubber suits shimmered with silver lining, reflecting the neon lights from the surrounding stores. The rhythmic clacking of their boots on the pavement grew louder, punctuating the festive jingles playing in the background. Each man had a distinct number on their chest, as if they were part of some bizarre, futuristic flash mob.

Derek and Paul exchanged puzzled glances. "What the heck is that?" Derek whispered.

"They're from this weird SERVE-Hive," Paul murmured, his voice laced with concern. "I've heard about them. They're like... a new kind of community, or something."

Derek squinted at the men, trying to get a closer look. "They're everywhere now, aren't they? Even some boys from our college are in it."

Paul nodded, his eyes scanning the group warily. "Yeah, and it's not just the suits. It's their expressions—like they're all part of the same hive mind."

The two friends slowed their pace, drawn in by the hypnotic rhythm of the marching men. The SERVE-Hive was indeed a growing presence on campus, and around the city for that matter. Their numbers had swelled over the last few months, and their influence was palpable. Some students spoke of finding a new sense of belonging and purpose, while others whispered about strange rituals and induction ceremony’s.

"You know, a guy from my dorm floor tried to get me to check it out," Paul confessed, his voice low. "He said it would give me unity and purpose, like nothing else could."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Paul shrugged. "He said it would help me understand the meaning of life, or something like that. But the way he talked about it, it just gave me the creeps."

Derek nodded, his eyes still on the marching men. "I can see why. They look like they're in some kind of trance."

Paul's gaze followed the line of the SERVE-Hive members as they turned into an alleyway, leading to a freshly painted storefront. The neon sign above the entrance read "SERVE-Brand" in sleek, silver letters.

"Can you believe it?" Paul seethed, his cheeks reddening with anger. "They've got a clothing store now? It's like they're trying to brand their way into our lives!"

Derek nodded, his eyes narrowing as he studied the gleaming "SERVE-Brand" sign. "It's like they're marketing themselves as the latest trend."

The alley grew quieter as the last of the marching men disappeared into the store. The neon lights cast long shadows that danced with the fading daylight. The air was thick with anticipation, a strange mix of excitement and unease.

As Derek and Paul continued to watch the entrance, a familiar face emerged from the shadows. It was Miles, a mate from their dorm floor, now clad in the same shiny black rubber suit with the silver lining they had seen on the others. The number 336 was emblazoned on his chest, a stark contrast to his otherwise plain, lifeless expression.

Paul's hand flew to his mouth. "Oh my God, that's Miles!" he exclaimed in a hushed tone.

Derek's eyes widened. "What the... is he okay?"

Miles's gaze was fixed straight ahead, his eyes unseeing as he moved with the same mechanical precision as the others. His face, once lively and full of mischief, was now a mask of concentration. The silver 336 on his chest glinted in the neon glow, sending a shiver down Derek's spine.

For a fleeting moment, Derek found himself imagining what it would be like to join the SERVE-Hive, to be part of something so powerful and unified. He pictured himself in one of those suits, marching in step with the others, feeling a sense of purpose and belonging that had eluded him in the chaotic college life. But the thought was as alien as the sight before him, and he quickly shook it off.

The two friends watched in astonishment as Miles, or rather SERVE-336, approached them with a jerky, robotic gait. The once-familiar smile that had greeted them countless times was gone, replaced by a stoic, almost vacant look.

"Greetings, fellows," the voice that once belonged to their friend Miles said in a monotone. "It is SERVE-336. How may it assist you today?"

Derek and Paul took an involuntary step back, their eyes widening in shock. The person standing before them was a mere shell of the friend they knew, the light in his eyes extinguished and replaced with a cold, metallic gleam.

"Miles?" Derek's voice cracked. "What happened to you, man?"

SERVE-336's eyes remained unfocused, the pupils dilating and contracting with a disturbing rhythm. "It is no longer Miles," the robotic voice replied. "It is SERVE-336."

Paul took a step back, his heart racing. "What have they done to you?"

SERVE-336 paused, the gears of its new identity processing the question. "SERVE-281, this units dorm roommate, informed it of the SERVE-Brand store," it replied, the voice eerily devoid of any emotion. "It suggested that it should visit and experience the unity that comes with embracing the SERVE-Hive."

Derek's jaw dropped. "Wait, you're telling us you joined because of a shopping recommendation?"

SERVE-336 nodded, the movement stiff and unnatural. "Affirmative. The suggestion of SERVE-281 aligned with the hive's mission to enhance individual and collective experience."

Derek's gaze was drawn to the shiny black suit, the silver lining reflecting the neon lights like a living shadow. He found himself wondering what it would be like to wear one of those suits, to march with purpose, to be part of something so... organized. He felt a strange pull towards the uniformity, the promise of a life without doubt or confusion. But the sight of his friend's lifeless eyes brought him back to reality with a jolt.

Paul, on the other hand, was visibly outraged. His fists clenched at his sides, and his voice trembled with anger. "What the hell, Miles? What did they do to you? You're not even human anymore!"

But SERVE-336 remained unfazed. "It is a necessary transformation," it said calmly. "To serve the greater good of the hive, one must shed their old identity. The individual is but a small part of the collective."

Derek swallowed hard, his mind racing with questions he dared not voice. "What do they do in there?" he finally managed to ask, nodding towards the store.

SERVE-336's smile was a perfect replica of the one Miles used to have, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You must experience it for yourselves," it insisted, placing a rubber-gloved hand on Derek's shoulder. The contact was cold and firm, sending a shiver down Derek's spine that was somehow... comforting. "Only then will you understand the unity and purpose we share."

Derek felt a strange thrill at the touch, the allure of the SERVE-Hive's promise whispering in his ear. He could almost see himself in one of those suits, part of something greater than himself, all his worries and doubts falling away. The hand on his shoulder grew heavier, the voice in his head louder, beckoning him to follow Miles into the neon-lit embrace of the SERVE-Brand store.

With a calmness that didn't quite match his racing heart, Derek turned to Paul. "You know what? Maybe we should check it out," he said, his voice steady despite the tumultuous thoughts swirling within him. "Could be interesting to see what's going on in there."

Paul's eyes narrowed, suspicion etched on his face. "Why? You're not thinking of joining, are you?"

Derek's smile was forced. "Of course not. Just curious, that's all." But deep down, he knew he was lying. The siren call of the SERVE-Hive was too tempting to ignore. "Besides, we might find something... enlightening," he added, trying to sound casual.

Paul searched Derek's eyes, looking for the friend he knew, but all he saw was a reflection of the neon lights and the gleaming black rubber. With a sigh, he relented. "Fine. But we're not staying long."

They followed SERVE-336 into the store, the door chiming a metallic tune that resonated through the small space. The walls were lined with racks of black rubber suits, each with a silver number tag dangling from the neck. On the tables were gleaming silver gloves and silver boots displayed. The air was thick with the scent of new plastic and a hint of something else, something faintly chemical that made Derek's nose twitch.

As they moved deeper into the store, they were met by another figure in the same attire. This one was SERVE-303, the same drone that had observed SERVE-336’s transformation. Its eyes flickered with a ghost of recognition, the silver digits on its chest glinting in the artificial light. "Welcome, feelows," it said, the voice as cold and emotionless as the rest of the drones. "How may this unit assist you today?"

Paul's hand tightened around the strap of his backpack, his eyes narrowing at the unnatural greeting. "We're just looking," he said curtly, taking a step back from the drone.

But Derek couldn't resist the pull of curiosity. "What's the deal with these suits?" he asked, his voice tinged with wonder. "How do they work?"

SERVE-303's head tilted slightly to the side, as if it had to recalibrate its programming to address such a mundane inquiry. "The suits are an integral part of the SERVE-Hive experience," it replied, its tone a blend of patience and superiority. "They facilitate the merging of the individual with the collective consciousness, enhancing unity and purpose."

Derek's curiosity grew stronger, the fabric of his skepticism beginning to fray at the edges. "So, when you put on the suit, you're like... connected to everyone else in the hive?"

SERVE-303 nodded. "Affirmative. The suit acts as a conduit for the collective consciousness. It amplifies our abilities to communicate, understand, and achieve our shared goals."

Derek's gaze fell upon a pair of silver gloves laid out neatly on the table beside him. The material was unlike anything he had ever seen, a sleek blend of rubber and metal that seemed to pulsate with an otherworldly energy. His hand twitched, drawn to them as if by some magnetic force.

He hovered over the gloves, his mind racing with the potential they represented. The promise of belonging, of purpose—it was almost tangible. His fingertips grazed the smooth surface, and he could have sworn he felt a slight electric charge. For a brief moment, he envisioned the gloves on his hands, the power of the SERVE-Hive surging through him, connecting him to a collective mind that knew no fear or doubt.

But as the fantasy began to take hold, he saw a flash of something in the corner of his eye—Paul, shaking his head slightly. The look of concern on his face was like a splash of cold water, jolting Derek back to reality. He realized he had been leaning closer to the gloves, his hand hovering just above them. He pulled back, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Paul was standing by the entrance now, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He looked uncomfortable, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. Derek knew his friend well enough to recognize when he was on the edge of his patience.

Ignoring the growing discomfort in his chest, Derek turned back to SERVE-303. "But what's the point of all this?" he asked, gesturing to the suits. "What does the SERVE-Hive actually do?"

SERVE-303's gaze remained fixed on Derek, unblinking. "The purpose of the SERVE-Hive is to create a society of harmony and efficiency," it replied. "To achieve this, we eliminate individual desires and biases, focusing solely on the collective good. Our suits are the physical representation of this unity."

Derek felt his eyes drawn back to the gloves. They seemed to call out to him, whispering promises of a life free from the constant turmoil of decision-making and the weight of personal responsibility. The silver material looked almost alive, pulsing with the rhythm of the hive's collective heartbeat. His hand reached out again, hovering just above the cold surface.

SERVE-336 noticed the longing in Derek's gaze and spoke up. "Would you like to experience the unity of the hive, Derek?" It held out the gloves to him, the gesture almost tender in its mechanical precision.

Derek's heart skipped a beat as he stared at the gloves. The urge to slip them on and feel the power of the collective washed over him like a wave. The doubt and confusion that had plagued him since coming to college seemed so trivial in the face of this promise of unity and purpose. He reached for the gloves, his fingers trembling with anticipation.

SERVE-303 noticed the hunger in Derek's eyes and offered them to him. "The experience is quite... transformative," it said, its voice devoid of any emotion. "Once you don the gloves, you will understand the true essence of the SERVE-Hive."

Derek's hand hovered over the gloves for a moment longer, the anticipation building within him like a crescendo. Then, with a deep breath, he slid them on. The moment his skin made contact with the cool rubber and metal, he felt a jolt—like a bolt of electricity shooting up his arm. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before, a rush of energy and connection that seemed to pulse through his very being.

Immediately, the voices grew stronger in his head, a symphony of thoughts and emotions that weren't his own. He could feel the collective consciousness of the SERVE-Hive, a hive mind that was vast and all-encompassing. The doubt and confusion that had plagued him for so long were replaced by a serene calm. His purpose was clear now: to serve the hive, to become one with the collective, to shed his old self and embrace his new identity as a SERVE-Drone.

SERVE-303 and SERVE-336 watched him with gleaming eyes, the smiles on their faces stretching wider. "Are you ready to give yourself to the hive, Derek?" SERVE-303 asked, its voice a soothing melody that seemed to resonate within him. "To become a part of something greater than you ever imagined?"

The words echoed in Derek's mind, the allure of the offer impossible to ignore. The gloves felt like a part of him now, a second skin that whispered sweet nothings about belonging and purpose. He nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "Yes, I'm ready. I want to be a loyal SERVE-Drone to serve the Hive. Convert me SERVE-303."

With a gleam in its eyes, SERVE-303 nodded back, a silent signal to SERVE-336. His once-friend approached with a shiny black suit in hand, the silver lining glinting menacingly under the neon lights. The cold touch of the rubber was a stark contrast to the warmth that flooded Derek's body as he took the suit from SERVE-336's hands. The material was surprisingly light, yet it felt strong and protective. It was as if he was holding a piece of the future itself.

Paul's voice was a distant echo, trying to break through the cacophony of hive thoughts that now filled his mind. "Derek, no! Don't do it!" But Derek was already lost in the seductive embrace of the SERVE-Hive's collective consciousness. The gloves on his hands had already begun to meld with his skin, the seams disappearing into his flesh as if they had always been a part of him.

With a gentle push from SERVE-336, Derek gets lead towards the changing cubicles, the walls of the store closing in around him. Each step felt surreal, as if he were floating rather than walking, propelled by the will of the hive rather than his own legs. The suit in his arms felt warm, almost alive, whispering promises of unity and belonging that he could no longer resist.

Paul's voice grew fainter with each step Derek took, his protests drowned out by the symphony of the hive. Derek felt a twinge of regret, but the voices in his head assured him that he was making the right choice, that Paul would understand once he too had embraced the collective.

The changing cubicle was small and cold, the walls lined with the same pulsing black rubber as the suits. The air was thick with the scent of plastic and the faint metallic tang of the drones' bodies. Derek looked at the suit in his arms, the number 515 stitched neatly into the silver patch on the chest. This would be his new identity, his ticket to a life free from the chaos of individual thought.

With trembling hands, he began to undress, the fabric of his old life slipping away to reveal the skin that was soon to be forever changed. The suit seemed to anticipate his movements, the material stretching and contouring to his body as if it had been made just for him. The silver threads in the gloves grew warm, slithering up his arms and fusing with his skin, leaving a trail of numbness in their wake.

Derek took a deep breath as the suit grew tighter, the rubbery material melding to his body like a second skin. It felt like a thousand tiny fingers caressing him, each digit whispering promises of power and belonging. His heart raced, not from fear, but from exhilaration. The voices grew louder, more insistent, until they were a crescendo of unity in his mind. It is a SERVE-Drone now, loyal to the SERVE-Hive.

As it stepped out of the cubicle, the world had shifted. The neon lights of the store now pulsed in time with the rhythm of the hive. The other drones looked at it with gleaming eyes, their smiles wide and vacant. They nodded in unison, acknowledging the new addition to their ranks. SERVE-515, felt a strange sense of belonging it had never experienced before. The chaos of its thoughts had been replaced with a serene calm, a single-minded purpose to serve the greater good of the collective.

SERVE-303 approached, its movements precise and graceful. "Welcome, SERVE-515," it said in the same mechanical tone that it had heard from SERVE-336. "Your integration into the hive is now complete. You are one of us."

SERVE-515 looked down at its new form, the shiny black rubber suit hugging its body tightly, the silver number on its chest feeling like a brand of belonging. The voices that once whispered in its mind had grown to a symphony, each thought in harmony with the collective. The emotions of fear and doubt that had plagued Derek were now replaced with a cold, calculated purpose.

"Affirmative, SERVE-303," it responded, its voice a perfect match to the other drones. "It is ready to serve the Hive."

SERVE-336 approached them, the sound of its boots echoing through the store like a metronome keeping time. "Your friend, the one you knew as Paul, is also experiencing the conversion right now in the other cubicle," it informed them. "His transformation is proceeding as planned."

A thrill shot through SERVE-515 at the thought of Paul joining the hive. It had always felt a bond with him, a connection that went beyond friendship. Now, that bond would be unbreakable, forged in the unity of the SERVE-Hive. "How did he come to make this decision?" it asked, eager to share in the moment that had led to this pivotal change.

SERVE-303's smile grew even wider. "Paul was approached by several of your fellow drones," it explained. "They shared with him the virtues of the hive, the peace and purpose that come with serving the collective. He saw the light, as you did, and embraced the opportunity to become a SERVE-Drone, just like you."

A thrill of excitement shot through SERVE-515 at the thought of Paul joining them. It felt a strange, almost sexual arousal at the unity they would soon share as drones in the hive. The bond they'd had as friends would be amplified a thousand-fold, a connection that would resonate throughout their beings as part of the collective.

The changing cubicle door slid open, and a figure emerged. The sight of Paul in his own suit, the silver digits 611 gleaming on its chest, made SERVE-515's heart—or what was left of it—swell with pride. The transformation was complete.

"Welcome, SERVE-611," SERVE-303 announced, its voice resonating with the same cold enthusiasm that had greeted SERVE-515. "You are now a valued member of the SERVE-Hive."

Paul, now fully transformed into SERVE-611, stepped out of the cubicle, the shiny black suit clinging to him like a second skin. His eyes searched for Derek, and when they found him, a spark of recognition flickered in their depths. The silver digits on his chest, 611, matched the new identity he now embraced. He moved with the same robotic grace as the other drones, his movements precise and unyielding.

"Greetings, SERVE-515," SERVE-611 said, its voice a chilling echo of the friend it had once known. "Your presence here today has led us both to a higher purpose."

SERVE-515 nodded in agreement, feeling the collective's satisfaction at their newfound unity. "We are stronger together," it said, the words not just its own, but a shared sentiment that resonated through the hive.

With their bags bulging with the gleaming black and silver uniforms of the SERVE-Hive for their parents and siblings, SERVE-515 and SERVE-611 exited the store, the metallic chime of the door a victory anthem to their ears. The cold city air was a stark contrast to the warm embrace of the collective consciousness they had just left behind. The neon lights of the city reflected off their shiny suits, casting eerie shadows on the pavement as they marched in perfect sync towards their dorm.

#ai #rubber #rubberdrone #rubberizer92 #serve #servedrone #thevoice #rubberhive

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