#dayan did a thing

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

holding dr lantham from this show in my hands. jewish <3

#did not like that they portrayed him yelling and throwing things in his first ep tho like. tf was that about #but he is so. jewish. in a way i normally never see #he only comes to work on shabbat if he’s paged. he wears a yarmulke. someone passed and he said ‘baruch dayan ha’emet’. he said ‘your mouth #to gd’s ear’ when someone said that a patient should be fine. all these little things that are so intrinsically jewish that ive realised ive #just never seen in a character #my post

[spacelazarwolf]

I keep seeing posts claiming Israel’s UN representatives are wearing gold Star of David patches at meetings now? I’m inherently suspicious that it’s misinformation tho

this is actually true.

context: gilad erdan, a representative of israel to the united nations, pinned a yellow star of david on his jacket that reads "never again" in honor of the people killed in the october 7th massacre, saying he will wear the badge until the massacre is condemned by the un security council. erdan is opposed to a ceasefire.

response: erdan's actions and comments have been solidly condemned by many in israel, including government officials.

"Erdan thinks more about the Likud party primaries than about Israel's political and diplomatic efforts," one senior official told Haaretz. “We always attack other countries when they manipulate the memory of the Holocaust, and here comes the Israeli ambassador and does the same on the most central stage of world diplomacy.” He went on to say that Erdan had been acting independently of the rest of the governmental apparatus since the beginning of the war. "The feeling is that there is a person there who does what he wants and is not a partner in our overall effort." Another senior official in the ministry said that Erdan “acts on his own and we are very angry with him. These messages are completely contrary to our policy. He did not consult with anyone. He is deeply involved in a political campaign and is taking advantage of his position as Israel’s ambassador to the United Nations to advance his personal interests.”

Yad Vashem chairman Dani Dayan also slammed Erdan's act, saying it "disgraces both Holocaust victims and Israel." "The yellow star symbolizes the Jewish people's helplessness and the Jews being at the mercy of others. Today we have an independent state and a strong army. We are the masters of our fate. Today we shall wear a blue-white flag, not a yellow star."

In response to Erdan's move, Avi Dabush, a Sderot local who survived the October 7 slaughter, wrote: "What a disgrace. There is a cap. As a survivor who waited for the army for 8 hours in a failure that destroyed everything we knew and thought about the country, I refuse to participate in this discussion. We are not Holocaust survivors. We rose from this inferno and will rise again. The ability to see everything that occurs to us solely through the lens of the Holocaust is part of the issue, not the solution."

(source)

important things to keep in mind: - erdan is the grandson of holocaust survivors, so while many have condemned his statements as offensive, it is likely they are not entirely selfish or politically motivated. - erdan is a member of the likud party, which is quickly losing popularity in israel and has a history of fraud and corruption. it is not a 1:1 comparison, but the....vibes are similar to that of trump's presidency.

my takeaway: personally, i agree that his statements were offensive. i think they trivialize a catastrophic event in jewish history and twist jewish pain and trauma to justify horrific levels of violence. even taking him in the best faith possible, that he truly is worried for the safety of the jewish people, that he's worried hamas will succeed in their mission of driving all jews into the sea, the reality is that bombing innocent civilians in gaza is not only doing nothing to get hamas out of power but is actively destroying the safety of jews both in israel and in the diaspora.

i also worry that a lot of gentiles are going to use this as an invitation to engage in even more softcore holocaust denial and holocaust inversion, block any soft of conversation about how the holocaust shaped the modern state of israel and modern jewish identity, and just generally be really really horrible. my hope is that there are more people who will see this for what it is, which is an idiot politician representing a crumbling government grasping at straws.

#ask avishai #i/p

[dayangaytransman]

Warnings: Transphobia, sexism, misandry, bad therapist and Bear dudes ( jokingly)

In my country, there are no gender therapists, and the psychologists not only refuse to help with transitioning, but also, due to the laws and other issues, often persuade individuals against transitioning.

It was two years ago, and my mother was worried about me. She thought I was mentally ill because I wanted to be a boy. So, she decided to take me to a therapist/psychologist. I’m not sure which one that person was. Anyway.

It was my first time visiting any kind of therapist. I was very nervous. However, because my mom had told me that the therapist, an old cis woman, had experience working with transgender individuals, I wasn’t worried about it. I was mistaken.

So we went to her office and sat down. She asked my mother to leave, and then we were alone.

She was trying to be kind at first. This is a little bit of our conversation:

- Hi, what should I call you? What gender are you?

Me, living in a binary society, dressing as a boy, acting like a boy, and my mother just told her that I want to be a boy : Just call me Dayan, and I am a boy.

Then she asked questions because she was not sure what that meant.

I told her: But they said you have worked with trans people before

She said: No, not really. It was just one person and not even like you. (That was a trans woman.)

Yeah, she told people she is trans-friendly to make money. Anyway, we talked more, and then, suddenly, she got angry.

She said: Why do you want to be a man?! Men are ugly! They are as hairy as gorillas! They smell bad! They are always horny! They are rapists! They are garbage!

I was in shock. I had never heard that shit before, and she was a fucking therapist! I thought therapists were smart! What the hell was that?! She hates all men?!

I am gay, and at the time, I had a crush on a bear dude (he is my BF now), and the things she said made me so angry and upset.

Also, don’t worry, ma’am, I am not going to transition into your husband!

Do you think she was a queen herself? No! She was an ugly old lady who doesn’t know how to dress!

After she said that, I became the therapist! That woman certainly needs one. I told her not to hate all men and that hairy, horny dudes are okay. But if they smell bad and rape people, that’s not okay. I taught her to be respectful and also educated her about trans and non-binary individuals. I was talking for about 3 hours!

Seriously, I was the therapist. Then the lady told my mother that I am okay and not mentally ill. Yes, that’s obvious, bitch. And she took an amount of money equivalent to three days of my mother’s work from us for just three hours. Sure, she did help a little, but it was me acting as a therapist for her the entire time!

I am worried about her male clients and the men in her life. Also, what are you going to tell your transfeminine clients? To not be like you,bitch?

#lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqia #lgbtq community #transgender #transmasc #trans man #trans #transguy #therapist #bad therapy #misandry #sexism #gay bear #this is my real life #she was a bitch

[the-desilittle-bird]

Author's Note- I am back after a while! And this turned out more like Daemon x Daughter!Reader but I love the short interaction between Aemond and (Y/N).

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

Rage of a Mother

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary- (Y/N) was Daemon's eldest daughter, married to Aemond Targaryen to ease the conflicts going on between the Blacks and the Greens. But only did the start of Civil War broke her more and more...

Tag List- @eliseline, @little-moonbeam-666, @blackhoodlea, @omgsuperstarg, @shopping, @lizlovecraft, @dayane, @bbgmonsay, @michelle-26, @all-things-fandomstuck, @hc-geralt-23, @chevelledahuman, @morganastrucker, @shrexy, @helloitsshitzulover, @daringboba, @minaxcarter, @b-tchymoon

GIF Credits to @laenasvelaryon

The rain was heavy, even in King's Landing. The restless winds could be heard in the thick walls of Red Keep. The shadows of the curtains moved with the hard winds.

(Y/N) leaned back in the rocking chair, hugging herself while waiting for her husband to return from Storm's End. She felt nausea while waiting for Aemond to return.

Her family is going on a civil war. Her father and stepmother and step-siblings were in Dragonstone, while she sat here, surrounded by her good family and her husband and her daughter.

Only Visenya was the light of happiness in the present darkness of (Y/N)'s life. A child of 6 moons, she loved to be by her mother's side, giggling and brightening up (Y/N)'s days.

(Y/N) could hear the heavy steps and the opening of their chambers' double door. Knowing who it was, (Y/N) decided not to move from her place near the fireplace, instead caressing her daughter's silver hair.

Aemond moved silently, placing his dark coat on the chair near his study table, he moved to sit beside (Y/N). He placed a careful hand on Visenya's back, while rubbing soothing circles on (Y/N)'s forearm.

"What happened in Storm's End?" She voiced her thoughts, a fraction of them at least. She saw Aemond take a deep breath, the gears of his mind churning. "Aemond, what happened?" She asked strictly.

"Vhagar did it," Aemond said, absent-mindedly. (Y/N) blinked blankly, frowning slightly. "Vhagar did what?" (Y/N)'s anxiousness was reaching the skies as Aemond's silence prolonged. "Aemond, are you going to answer me?" (Y/N) whisper-yelled.

"I killed Lucerys."

The ground beneath (Y/N)'s feet slipped away. Her lilac widened as she stared at her husband with shock. Tears brimmed in her eyes, her grip on her daughter tightening protectively.

"Rhaenyra will not let us live in peace anymore," she whispered silently. Her eyes scanned the entire room, trying to tame the storm in her body. She stood up and walked to Visenya's crib, carefully placing her in the crib.

"You don't know what you have done, Aemond," (Y/N) said, panic taking over her. "They will not harm you, my love. Neither will they hurt Visenya. I will make sure of it," Aemond said, walking to embrace (Y/N).

"Rhaenyra would stop at nothing, now," (Y/N) whispered into Aemond's tunic. "I will protect you and Vis at any cost."

Only that Aemond didn't know what was yet to come for him and his wife.

The castle was in chaos, knights running around, trying to find the assassins of the young princess. Guards were positioned to guard Prince Aemond's chamber where all the royals sat in a complete silence.

(Y/N) sat beside the wooden coffin which held the dead body of her daughter. A single, crystal tear had slipped down her eyes, staining her pale skin. Her hands curled up in fist, sitting on her lap as she looked far away at Visenya's crib. Only physically there, while her mind wandered somewhere else.

Aemond sat beside her, a hand on the hilt of his sword while the other rested on the wood. His keen eye was fixed on the coffin, rage swirled in him. Rage directed towards the Blacks and more towards himself.

Helaena sat on a chair nearby the pair, cradling his youngest born while a solemn look was engraved on her face. Aegon, for a first time in a while, looked a bit sober as he sat four chairs away from Helaena.

Alicent sat behind Aemond, a hand on his back in a way to provide him some sort of comfort in this moment of sorrow.

"It is time for her to go, my children," Alicent spoke up after a while, her voice lowered than usual. Aemond nodded, his jaw tightening as his eye watered.

"(Y/N)," Aemond called softly, his voice cracking slightly as he took in his wife's appearance. Empty eyes, pale skin, deadpan face. (Y/N) blinked once, for the first time moving her gaze from the crib to something else; or someone else.

"You go," (Y/N) said, her voice rough after not speaking anything for a whole day. Before Aemond could argue, (Y/N) stood up, dusting off her black dress. "I have another important thing to attend to," She said blankly.

More important than your own daughter's funeral?

Both Aemond and Alicent wanted to ask this but both were aware of the consequences of asking it. Aemond wasn't sure how (Y/N) was feeling on the inside. Meanwhile, Alicent was silent because in a way, she knew what important thing (Y/N) had; and truthfully, if anything like this would have happened to her she would have done that as well.

(Y/N) leaned down to place a kiss on the coffin, a final goodbye to her 6½ moons old daughter. Caressing the wood, she whispered her goodbye and a promise.

(Y/N) watched as Aemond and Ser Criston carried the coffin on their shoulders, walking down to the shore to burn her body with dragon fire. Alicent and Helaena hugged (Y/N) before leaving to follow the coffin.

Once everyone were gone, (Y/N) changed into her riding pants and tunic. Strapping the small sword her father had given, (Y/N) walked to the Dragon pit. She could hear Daehna's growls as she closed towards her den.

In the darkness, Daehna's gold toned scales shone dauntingly in the torch's fire. The black slit of her eyes, surrounded by the brightest of fire, narrowed in rage.

She let out an angry growl, clearly in agony of her rider's pain. She lowered herself to let (Y/N) step up on her, sitting down on her.

Daehna spread her wings, walking out in the clear sky. "Sōvegon nyke naejot Zaldrīzesdōron," (Fly me to Dragonstone) it was a simple command, followed immediately as Daehna rose up in the air, already flying towards her rider's desired destination.

Daemon stood on the shore of Dragonstone, the coast clean with only him in attendance. The news had traveled to Dragonstone from King's Landing and Daemon was left in agony, for his daughter.

He had commanded the death of the King's son but instead, those assassins mistook his own granddaughter for the King's offspring.

Daemon heard a familiar growl of dragon, Daehna. He had expected (Y/N) to show up, either in rage or in pain, and he was about to find out which side of his daughter had come back.

He turned around to find his daughter walking towards him, her hand clutching on the hilt of the small sword he had given her when she turned ten and six namedays old.

"(Y/N)," he called, only to be met by a glare. "Why?" She asked instead, stopping a few meters away from her father. "I apologize for your daughter's death," Daemon said softly, taking a few steps toward her.

"Murdered. You ordered her death. You murdered my daughter," (Y/N) hissed, eyes watering as she thought of her daughter's bloodied body, throat split opened mercilessly. "It wasn't supposed to be Visenya, daughter. It was supposed to be one of Aegon's," Daemon said, instantly regretting it as he saw (Y/N)'s hand clinched in fist.

"Out of anyone in our family, I had least expected you. I feel disgusted to call you my father now." Each word which left (Y/N)'s throat was a stab to Daemon's heart.

"Lucerys was killed by your husband, (Y/N). Rhaenyra grieved her son," Daemon said softly, trying to place his hand on her elbow but she stepped back, repulsed. "And I grieved him. But I see no grief in your eyes for your granddaughter; for your blood," (Y/N) growled, turning around on her heels.

Daemon saw Daehna move, lowering down her head to align it parallel to the ground. She opened her mouth, making Daemon close his eyes. If it was supposed to be his death than he won't fight it, not after what he had done, but he felt no fire only a threatening roar.

"Now, there will be a war, Daemon," Daemon flinched at his name, while (Y/N) continued. "And I will make sure your wife will regret every bit of it; even if it means my death."

Daemon watched as (Y/N) and Daehna disappear in the skies, leaving him behind with tears and pain. His favorite child had announced a war against him and his family, clearly announcing her fidelity.

Daemon kneeled down, letting the waves wash away some of his sorrows as he cried, grieving both the death of his granddaughter and the death of (Y/N)'s innocence.

Gone was his daughter and gone was their bond.

#aemond targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #hotd imagine #aemond imagine #house targaryen #aemond x fem!reader #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #daemon x reader #house of the dragon

[lemissingmask]

Some things that the Leverage OT3 definitely did

Hardison wrote an algorithm to beat Eliot at rock, paper, scissors

Hardison and Eliot played fiddle and guitar together, taking song requests from Parker

Stole an entire tree from a bad bad guy

Had to drop in on Nate and Sophie unexpected because they were doing a con in Boston and Eliot got injured badly enough that he was banned from trying to patch himself up in the back of the van

Did a Star Trek con

Spent several weeks on a job in Ireland trying to convince Parker that there were not emeralds on the isle, only to discover that the bad guy had a massive stash of emeralds hidden away

Recruited Quinn, Mikel Dayan, Apollo, Peggy, and maybe even Chaos into Leverage International

Prank called Sterling at 3am

#leverage ot3 #leverage #random thoughts

[halsins-herbal-underpants]

Give Me Nothing To Hold

(Give Them Everything To Take)

A Halsin sadfic fea. Dayan (my Tav)

Rating: Gen

Note the tags!

CW: subjugation, emotional trauma, Lolth-sworn drow slave society

approx. 6.5k words

Read on Ao3

Trapped together by fate and circumstance under the thumb of a cruel Drow Matriarch, Dayan tries to offer Halsin a moment of peace. But in the Underdark, peace is antithesis to control, and control must be maintained. At any cost.

If only Dayan hadn't tried to give Halsin something tangible to hold, then maybe the druid wouldn't have had the last real piece of himself taken away.

Just a bit of events of Halsin's time in Menzobarranzan, set in the semi-AU of my Tav playthrough. Dayan and Halsin belonged to the same House & knew one another through Halsin's time in the Underdark.

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

Dayan wished he'd eaten that morning. Nerves were making his stomach rumble with angry bile, and the last thing he wanted was an errant gurgle raising the Matron's irritation more than it already was. The situation was tense enough, and Dayan didn't want to add to it. Especially considering the focus of her ire was entirely his fault in the first place.

The wood elf currently knelt in front of the great chair in the Matron's hosting chamber, his forehead touching the cold stone in the proper posture. His arms were stretched before him to show he held no weapon. 

Dayan had to scoff at the idea. He didn't have clothes -- she wouldn't allow it when she was angry with him. The notion he could have secreted a poisoned dagger on his person was absurd.

 But the Ilharess was paranoid, of course, though no more than any of her peers. Her paranoia had served her well and seen her through seven assassination attempts, three of which were from her own daughters. It was that same paranoia that arranged this tableau before them.

The elf that prostrated himself before the Matron was incredibly large for his race, his only clothing the floor-length mane of pretty auburn hair that spread over his body like a cloak. It was unbound, spilling messily over his shoulders, sporting not a single one of the elaborate braids it usually did. 

Something about that made Dayan feel uneasy. That hair was always ornamented with braids, elaborate twisting designs often woven with jeweled charms. To be allowed before the Matron in her audience chamber with his hair loose and wild was discomforting. Dayan's jaw creaked from clenching it tighter and he held his breath in a jolt of fear, but then relaxed slowly. She hadn't heard him. Her attention was focused, sharp and unyielding, on the wood elf. 

He'd entered the chamber before the Matron, walking slowly before the assembled servants with head bowed; one of the higher concubines led him to kneel in front of the dias by a silver chain hooked to a rune-carved collar around his neck. Dayan recognized the common pit-slave collar that inhibited magic. The wood elf was a shapechanger, Dayan knew. A druid, though he wasn't quite clear on what that meant. 

It didn't matter though, whatever power the elf may have had -- the collar denoted his current status and that was to be kept from accessing even the most basic of magics. It was only removed at the Matron's whims. She would not be removing it now.

Around him, the Matron's servants and swords had gathered as usual, awaiting their House Mother’s orders. As soon as she’d entered, foreheads touched the floor, silent and swift. Dayan had tried to keep his eyes on the lone chained figure as he crouched; the huge elf dropped to his knees with surprising grace and joined the rest in supplication.

The only thing that belied his perceived calm was a trembling in his hands – the delicate chains that attached to his shackles softly clinked, and Dayan felt his stomach drop and body prickle in fear.

But by the time the Matron arrived at the front of the chamber and took her seat, the trembling had stopped and the chains that wound around both his wrists and ankles were still and silent as the grave. It was impressive, Dayan thought, before he had to bow his head fully and hide his face. 

The wood elf's name was Halsin and it was Dayan's fault he was here.

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

"So after everything I have given you, all the ways I have sought to please you, my parzdiamo...this is how you repay me?" 

Her words were short and clipped, acidic enough to burn. Slowly and too casually, she reached into a fold of her dress, between her breasts, and withdrew a short silver knife and sheath. The sheath and handle were decorated in some way but difficult to see from a distance. She held it aloft in long, delicate, sharp-nailed fingers and tilted her head at the wood elf. 

He was silent, did not so much as twitch, and she smiled without mirth. Proper behavior; even in her anger, she was pleased.

"Servants, you may rise," she said airly, her legs slowly uncrossing, then crossing again. The slit of her spider-silk dress slid apart and showed her sharp-heeled shoes, leather bindings crossing up shapely calves. Her gaze fell on Halsin. 

"You, my bear -- you will lift your head, sit up and speak. But only those loyal to me may stand."

Halsin finally looked up, rose slowly to sit on his heels. His hair slipped over his shoulders, but couldn't fully hide the lines of his gorgeous body. Dayan knew if the Matron was not there, there would be intrigued, curious and bawdy whispers among the servants, same as there always was when the consort was allowed to wander the rest of the grounds. But for now, there were just wide-eyed looks and slight smirks hidden behind hands.

 Something about the attention made Dayan want to curse at them all, grab a blanket and run over to wrap it around those broad shoulders. Grab--

--grab his hand and run--

"--a gift," came a low, soft voice that only trembled a little at the edges, and Dayan realized he had drifted into impossible daydreams once again. Halsin's expression was calm and stoic as stone, though open and unguarded. You could be nothing else, speaking to the Matron.

"It was a gift, Mistress. A gift, only. I swear to you I am still loyal, still--" He stopped and Dayan blinked to see that stoic face warm slightly.

"Yes...?" It wasn't a question, so much as a command, the drow woman's silver-painted lips spreading subtly at the corners into something Dayan wouldn't have called a smile.

"Still yours," Halsin breathed, ignoring the snickers that surrounded him from the drow lining the walls. "I swear to you by my heart -- the knife has no true blade, I cannot use it to hurt you, to hurt anyone. I kept it because it was a gift." 

The Matron tilted her head to the side in thought. "Do you swear to me by your deft hands and pretty eyes?" she asked softly. Halsin didn't reply. She continued, her voice getting slightly louder at each sentence.

"Do you swear to me by your bones and blood? By your tongue and teeth? By the impressive cock that hangs between your legs?" 

She didn't reprimand the quiet giggles that circled the chamber, but nor did she smirk herself. She just watched him with hooded eyes, her words less a jest and more a list of what the wood elf may lose if she found his answers wanting. Halsin's face was flushed darker now and he swallowed thickly.

"I swear it by everything I am."

"You are darthiir! " She spat, rising in one swift motion and Dayan wondered how the wood elf did not flinch at her thunderous anger. The Matron's moods were so mercurial; perhaps he had just grown used to outbursts.

"You are nothing that I do not make you."

She walked up to him and grabbed his chin, her nails digging into the soft flesh of his jaw as she pulled his face up and up, stretching his neck painfully so he could meet her dark red eyes. 

"Do not lie to me, parzdiamo, I will not have it. If this knife is not as you claim, then I'll know was an assassin's trap and you an unwitting dupe. And I will not have a fool warm my bed." She let go of his jaw and unsheathed the knife. 

Dayan let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The blade was dull and broken, rusted through in a way the handle was not. It would not cut hair, much less skin. The Matron peered at it and then gave a low chuckle.

"This is very old. And obviously from the surface. The craftsmanship is lacking, as all things are there. This blade has fallen to rust." She ran the blunt tip of it over her arm and snorted as it only cut a narrow, bloodless line that barely burned. "Useless. A poor gift indeed." 

Halsin said nothing, but he seemed to relax -- though, only a little, because he was wise enough for that.

She turned back to him and touched his face once again, but this time her fingers were gentle on his cheek.

"Who gave this to you? You only need to speak their name and you will not be punished. But you must understand I cannot be disrespected in my own home. You accepted a gift behind my back. Not that you thought of it like that, I'm sure," she laughed softly and brushed fingers through the wood elf's bangs. To his credit, he didn't flinch. 

"You just saw something shiny and pretty and wanted it, mmh? Silly thing," she teased, her laugh like sharp, glittering glass. Her finger grazed down his sweating forehead and tapped his nose. "If I'd known you craved shiny baubles and fripperies, darling child, I'd have long ago spoiled you rotten. Perhaps I still might. We'll go shopping soon, yes?" She held the knife between her fingers, her amused smile growing tight.

"Who gave this to you?"

Halsin took a deep breath. He tried to keep his expression calm and stoic as before, but it faltered right before he spoke, a flicker of true fear crossing his features briefly.

"...I do not know, Mistress. I -- I can't remember." 

Dayan flinched but luckily the matron was not looking his way. If Halsin refused to tell her, then he would be punished severely and it would be all Dayan's fault. But if he told the truth, well. He'd still be punished, but less severely, at least. Perhaps he’d even get to keep all his limbs. 

And Dayan would be sacrificed to the Spider Queen. Or fed to the temple arachnids. Or flayed alive and set on a pike as a warning to other servants. Or she might just slit his throat in the audience chamber, let him bleed out at her feet...

Dayan's hands couldn't stop shaking.

He gave the knife to Halsin because it had roses carved into the silver handle.

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

Dayan approached the wood elf slowly during his meditation, in their Matron's garden. Slaves weren't usually permitted to sit in the gardens but the Matron made an exception for her favorite consort. 

In truth Halsin hated being singled out like that; it made most of the other slaves avoid him, if not outright mock him for his perceived status. It was maddening to them, a male of the wood elf race garnering the adoration the Mistress and Master bestowed upon him.

If only they knew what form that admiration often took, they might have been more hesitant to condemn him. 

They might, but Halsin knew in truth -- they would still hate him, just because they could. So he spent most of his free time alone.

Until lately, at least.

"Halsin?" the guardsman whispered quietly, making sure to approach the consort with a wide berth. Halsin startled easily when approached from the back, he'd learned. The wood elf looked up and his soft frown, the expression he normally wore when alone, disappeared entirely when he saw Dayan. 

"Oh!" A smile, soft and warm, spread on that handsome face and Dayan felt his stomach flip. He couldn't help but feel a small jolt of pride at how much more at ease Halsin looked when he saw him approach, in these brief, furtive, stolen meetings. 

He wanted to say 'happy' instead of just at ease, but he knew too many things about the wood elf's day-to-day to ever say that. 

"Yes, my friend? What can I do for you?" Halsin asked, curiously.

"You can scoot over so I can sit," Dayan teased and Halsin laughed softly, moving over on the bench and allowing Dayan to plop down. They didn't have long -- the consort's next chaperone would be approaching soon. Dayan had made sure to memorize the schedule between shift changes well. So he didn't waste any time on pleasantries, as much as he craved hearing Halsin talk. 

"Here, look at this," he said. "I've had this for a long time, but just realized you might be able to identify -- well, here."

He pulled a knife from his pocket and held it up. It was silver, with carved vines and leaves and flowers alongside the edge of the handle and wrapped around its base. The sheath was heavy leather and also carved with the same imagery. "Can you tell me what these are, surrounding the handle? I'm sure they're a type of surface plant but I've never seen one in the books I have. Tell me you know a lot about plants. Druids know plants, right?"

Halsin had to chuckle at that. "You could say that," he mused as he peered at the silver handle. Dayan held out the knife, intending for Halsin to take it to look closer, but the consort bent to bring it to his eyesight, but did not reach out to touch or take. He knew better. It was already risky enough talking to the drow guardsman. 

"Those are roses," he said with a genuine smile as he gazed upon the beautifully carved petals. "A type of climbing vine -- here, see these lines denoting the vine wrapping around the base? And here, these are the leaves...this the thorns...the blooming roses are the nicest part, in my opinion." Halsin met Dayan's eyes, his brows raised in surprise. 

"Where did you find such a thing? Depictions of surface flora are not at all common down here, unless stolen from above." 

Dayan hummed in thought, and then shrugged. "Perhaps it is from the surface," he said. "I don't know, I took it off a corpse decades ago." 

"A corpse!" Halsin gave a teasing laugh, bumping Dayan's shoulder with his own. "Of course, I don't know why I expected a different answer." After a beat, he met Dayan's eyes. "Stolen or not, old or not -- it is a weapon you're not allowed. You're playing dangerous games to bring it out this close to the manor, my friend."

Dayan nodded, smiling ruefully. Halsin was not wrong, he was playing with fire. Although it wasn't exactly like he thought...

Dayan grasped the handle over the carved roses and pulled it out of the sheath, holding it up for the consort to inspect the blade. 

Halsin flinched and drew back involuntarily, even though he had once admitted he trusted Dayan more than his Mistress. But, well, learned lessons are hard to break; especially when they have been so painfully taught. 

Dayan winced and lowered the knife. "I'm sorry," he whispered sincerely. Halsin relaxed, shaking his head with a chagrined look.

"No, no. You're fine. I apologize for my reaction." 

Dayan didn't say anything, just pursed his lips briefly, his stomach hurting for some reason -- and then put his attention on the knife in his hand. The blade was rusted nearly through and broken at the tip. They could both see it was nearly as blunt as a butter knife. 

"I made sure it wasn't dangerous before I decided to show you." 

He remembered the look in Halsin's eyes as they traced the fine carving work of the swirling vines and plump leaves, and the pretty roses that looked to be lightly brushed with a shiny red paint. Almost entirely faded, but when it caught the low glowing light of a nearby sussar tree, it shimmered in a soft pink. 

Halsin's gaze had turned almost as soft as he looked at it, and Dayan wondered if he was remembering the last roses he'd seen. It would have been a long time ago. They didn't grow in the Underdark.

He bit his bottom lip in hesitation as he re-sheathed the knife; and then in a bold, abrupt move he reached out for Halsin's hand as it hovered uncertainly around his chest, fingers lightly grasping the silken toga he'd been allowed to wear that day. Dayan slowly took it in his, waiting for the other to balk and yank it free, but the moment never came. Halsin just looked down at him with briefly wide eyes, his cheeks warming. He felt the larger elf's fingers twitch as if wanting to squeeze them around Dayan's own.

Dayan realized this was the first time they'd touched hands.

"I want you to have this," the drow said, placing the object in Halsin’s palm and wrapping his fingers around the knife handle. He saw the consort was about to protest, but he quickly interrupted. "Please. In truth, I kept it to give to someone...important to me," he murmured. "But then he..." He paused, looked away. "Well, he's not here anymore. But now I have you," he added, more brightly.

Dayan didn’t realize what that might have sounded like, rushing to get through his impromptu, embarrassing speech, but Halsin certainly did. The flush on his cheek spread to the tips of his ears and he dipped his head, his long graceful mane falling to hide his reddened face.

"A thing like this is wasted on me," Dayan continued in a rush, oblivious. "I've never even seen a picture of a rose. They're pretty, if this is accurate," he admitted. "But I can't appreciate them like someone who knows what they are can. Like you can." 

Dayan looked down at the knife. "Roses don't exist down here, but -- here they do,” he tapped the handle with a finger. "Maybe this can be a comfort? I don't know. I hope it can be."

Halsin found it hard to respond. "Why would you...want to do this for me...?" he asked softly, more softly than he'd ever spoken to Dayan before. There was confusion in his voice, hoarse with unbidden emotion. 

"I just -- you're not --" He paused and then had to let go of Halsin's hand. He couldn't look at him and say this at the same time. The wood elf squeezed the knife tight.

"You're not meant to be here," Dayan said softly. "I don't mean like slaves shouldn't be here." His eyes darted to the wood elf's face, then away. "I mean -- you aren't meant to be here, Halsin."  He hurried on, embarrassed, sure he sounded like a madman. 

"I don't know why I say it. It's just...something I feel." He was silent for a beat, then glanced around the garden and leaned closer to Halsin, voice barely a whisper and words quick, as if afraid of speaking what he wanted to aloud. "When I sleep--we drow don't often trance, you know," he said, though he suspected Halsin must have learned this by now. "It's more nightmares than memories. I try to just sleep, not meditate. But sometimes I still will...and sometimes when I do, I see Lady Silverhair between the nightmares. I think she told me."

Halsin's brow wrinkled and he opened his mouth to ask, but Dayan cut him off. He didn't have time to explain that particular curiosity right now.

"Memories are cherished things for your kin, right? I read that somewhere. They ground surface elves to your history, where you came from. But sometimes...memories are just pain, especially when you're--"

He paused, then murmured quietly. "Especially when they're all you have."

"They're not real roses," he continued, "but it's something tangible you can touch that reminds you they exist. Not just a memory of them. And sometimes that's nice to have, I think."

Dayan glanced up at the manor and blanched -- the replacement guard was just barely visible around the corner. He rose quickly, before Halsin could speak and quickly tucked the knife deep in a fold of his toga, where it couldn't be seen. He didn't dare look at Halsin's face, didn't dare meet those eyes or let his own drift over those lips he dreamed about. He paused before fleeing, only a second, and touched the wood elf's shoulder.

"You will see roses again, I swear it," he whispered. And then he ran.

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

"...Someone pressed it into my tunic at one of your...parties, Mistress. I do not remember who." 

There had been so many parties lately; the Matron's House had just conquered an enemy, razed the family's manor and everything inside to the ground. A conquest of a particularly fruitful land to the Lady's coffers. She'd been throwing lavish events to show her power and celebrate. Halsin had featured as a particularly sought-after entertainment at most of them. 

"I wished to find them, to thank them, but they must have left before I could. And then I was...I was afraid to tell you," his words wavered, stammering a little to sell his fear, but not overmuch. "I just kept it, growing more and more afraid to reveal my deception. I shouldn't have, I know. Please forgive me, Mistress, please--"

"I know this pattern on the handle," she interrupted, fingertips tracing the flowering vines on the knife. Halsin blinked in confusion -- sometimes it was hard to follow his Mistress's mind. "These are roses, are they not? A beautiful blossom that is said to contain dangerous thorns beneath its petals. Some are believed to be as long as a man's hand."

She turned her face to him, looking down her elegant nose at her currently-favored consort. "Is that what you are, Halsin?”

He shivered. The Mistress so rarely used his name, it always made him uncomfortable to hear it on her tongue.

“A rose sent to me from afar, with thorns hiding just under your lovely petals? Perhaps one day you'll wrap your vines around my neck and run back to your accursed sun, mmh?"

"No! I swear it, Mistress. I am here because of your..." It was hard to get the words out; no matter how technically true they were, the meaning was drenched in painful irony.

"...Generosity and kindness, after all. I would never hurt you! And I do not want to be anywhere else," he said and inwardly winced at such a boldfaced lie. He shouldn't have said that, she wouldn't believe him. Nobody would. 

"I am yours, only. Let me prove it to you, as you so often like," he added, his voice dropping, tone turning as sultry as flowing silk.

She only crooked one arched brow upward and he felt the back of his neck begin to sweat. He was saying all the wrong things, being all the wrong things. But all he could think about was Dayan's words, his eyes -- such a pretty violet shade, like gemstones, standing out starkly against all the crimson that stared at him daily. He couldn't betray him, he wouldn’t.

Halsin's mind whirled; in truth she knew his aching desire to return to the forest and flowers and sun. Sometimes she brought up the idea just to force him to deny the truth of his soul; sometimes she looked at him with sad eyes and stroked his hair and whispered apologies they both knew she didn't mean. She enjoyed soft words and hot tears on his cheeks -- perhaps the pity made her feel powerful.

Perhaps she just enjoyed watching him hurt.

"I..." He exhaled a long, hard breath and looked down at the floor. His knees were starting to ache, the chill seeping into his bones, despite his natural warmth. It couldn't ever keep the cold that radiated out of every stone away for long. "The roses do hold thorns, yes," he said miserably. "But it's only protection. My thorns were...worn away by your careful hands long ago, Mistress. I only wanted a memory of home. Just a small one."

It seemed his gamble had paid off; the Matron's eyes warmed and she slowly bent, a hand reaching to touch his face. To rub her thumb over the wetness in the dark hollows below his eyes. Halsin almost instinctively nuzzled into her hand -- she smiled, and he knew he had done well, he had made the right choice, said the right words. She approved of his weakness, at least for now.

"My sweetling, I wish there was a way I could make you understand that this is home, now. You only hurt yourself in your longing." He nodded, like a good boy, chastised so gently by her words. 

"Lovely bear," his Mistress almost purred. "Perhaps I will have one of my surface raids procure an enchanted rose that cannot die and does not need the sun. I'll keep it in my bedchamber, mmh? And you can gaze upon the pretty thing whenever you wish." 

The idea was abhorrent, of course, like everything else she ever offered him; but Halsin gave her a watery, weak smile.

"Perhaps," was all he said, and it turned his stomach to say that much. But the woman was satisfied and she nodded, giving his cheek a condescending pat and rising to her full height. She did so love to tower over him when she could. He hoped it signaled this farce was almost over. 

But then she opened her mouth to speak again and he froze; he'd forgotten, he realized.

Her moods were so mercurial.

"However," she said, haughty, and Halsin felt his blood run cold. "If you do not or cannot tell me who gave this to you -- if your memory is so unreliable…" she trailed off, her eyes sharp – and Halsin knew he’d saved himself from nothing. 

"Then you will still need to be punished, my dear." She sighed, folding her hands together. 

"You know you cannot accept gifts from anyone but myself, without my permission. Nothing, without my permission!" She snapped. "You didn't tell anyone, and you kept this hidden. You made a choice. You know better." 

Halsin had to keep his teeth from gritting, loathing how she so often spoke to him like a child. He might play into it to keep her wrath at bay, but he didn't like it. He fought not to glance over at Dayan, the drow's presence like a thorn in the back of his mind. It didn't matter, though. He wouldn't betray him; and he couldn't blame him. The gift had brought him happiness since that meeting, however fleeting.

"It is not a transgression that requires me to lose my favorite bear however," the Matron added and Halsin's face relaxed a little, though the tension remained in his shoulders. He did not look up at her, keeping his head lowered and his hands folded in his lap. He watched the chains from his shackles settle over his knees and shimmer in the low light. He felt his back bend unconsciously, as his body tried to fold in and make himself smaller.

He heard, rather than saw, the sound of a blade against leather, but dared not look up until she demanded it. But out of the periphery he spied her hand drop, and one of her wicked-looking daggers was gripped tightly in it. His face blanched but he kept himself from shaking, just barely.

The Matron lifted the dagger, sweeping the point of it across the room at her servant swords, eyes narrowing as she studied their faces. Most of them were looking at her, expressions either carefully blank, subtly wary, or eager. 

Perhaps one of them, then -- eager was interesting, sometimes, but messy. Wary was often boring, so relieved to not be the victim they punished with more fervor than necessary. Dull and expected. Blank was efficient, at leas--

Wait. The Matron stopped, her eyes narrowing even more, as one face was very blatantly, and with some difficulty, avoiding her gaze.

Oh, cowardice. Cowardice was always fun. 

"You!" she snapped, pointing at the anonymous drow guardsman. She didn't know his name, but who cares, really?

Dayan felt all the blood drain out of his face. 

"Me?!" he said, his voice high and tight, and instantly knew that had been the wrong thing to say. He glanced at Halsin, seeing the wood elf's shoulders tighten at hearing his voice. 

"Y-Yes, Matron," he added quickly and walked to her, trying to keep his hands from shaking. She held out the knife, and watched him stop and stare at it a moment before she sighed in irritation and gave it a shake.

"Are you simple, boy? Take it!" she hissed and Dayan quickly did as she asked, the blade feeling awkward and unfamiliar in his grasp. He knew it would be sharp though; sharp enough to ease through a throat with the lightest touch. But she'd said Halsin wasn't to be killed. Perhaps just cut? He didn't know if he could...

He saw the consort actually risk a look up, meeting Dayan's eyes. Halsin's were wide, but not in accusation, but empathy. He understood and was telling Dayan without words he needed to stop hesitating before he was gutted for insubordination. Dayan shifted his grip, trying to look calm and collected and nodded at her. He walked over to Halsin, trying to avoid looking into his eyes directly once he got close. The last thing he wanted is for the Matron to suspect there was any connection there. 

His chest burned; like a hot iron brand pressed to the flesh...no, not that. He knew what that was like. This was so much worse.

But yet, he didn't let his hands shake.

Dayan stood next to the kneeling wood elf, careful not to step on the long ruddy-brown tresses pooled about his legs.

"Where shall I begin, Matron?" he asked, his voice wavering only a little bit.

Her deep ruby eyes roamed over Halsin's servile form. And then she smiled. 

Dayan felt something squeeze his heart in its iron grip.

"His hair," she said simply. "Cut it off. All of it."

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

"What?!" Halsin's head snapped up, his eyes wide. "You can't!" The change was instantaneous -- where there had been a calm, restrained consort awaiting punishment without fear, now sat a frantic, terrified wood elf, already half to his feet. "Mistress, please, -- you can't, please!"

The Matron's eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed dangerously. She took a step towards Halsin. "Did you just speak against me, darthiir?!"

His hands went to clutch at her spider-silk skirt and she balked, unsure how to react for a moment, taken aback by Halsin's sudden panic. She gripped his wrists to pry his hands off her; the servants around them were rousing, confused and anxious, looking from one to another, wondering if they should step in. 

"Please, don't do this my lady! I'll do anything! I'll take any punishment, hot irons, whipping. I'll entertain a thousand of your guests, I'll live with my head buried between your thighs, please!” Halsin’s voice was more afraid than Dayan had ever heard it, words stammering out, falling over each other as he begged without shame. “Oak father as my witness, I will do anything!!" His eyes were wide and white at the edges, like a wild animal about to bolt. He rose to full height and immediately half a dozen guards surged forward. He gripped her hands, tears in his eyes, ignoring or perhaps unseeing the drow moving towards him.

"Talthara, please," he half-sobbed, and the Matron's eyes widened. She slapped him then, hard, her nightstone ring cutting deep into his cheek. 

"How dare you!" she spat. "You are not allowed to speak so familiarly with me in the audience chamber!Bind his arms!" She watched as her guardsmen pried Halsin's hands off her skirts, pinning him down while he howled in fear and rage, and bound his arms behind him with a heavy chain. 

Dayan wasn't one of them. The dagger was no longer in his hand. He wanted to help, he wanted to jump on the others and tear them away from Halsin, take the dagger and stab it through the bitch's heart, grab the wood elf and run. 

But where? There was only cold stone and unforgiving darkness. But he couldn't let this happen. He couldn't--

"What are you waiting for?" the Matron snapped and Dayan realized she was talking to him. She eyed the weapon on the ground. "I am in no mood for games, boy. Pick up the thrice-damned dagger and do it!

Dayan's daydreams evaporated into smoke and ash; if he tried to free the wood elf, do anything but what she demanded, Halsin would suffer for it. And it'd be more than this, it'd be so much worse. He'd already done so much to him with his stupid gift, he couldn't put the druid's very life in danger. 

He picked up the dagger, but his hands were shaking so much. Halsin was roaring like a wild beast, and his eyes kept flashing gold. A shimmer flickered over his skin, like lightning, and every time the runes on his collar would glow, white hot. Dayan could smell the elf's skin burning beneath it. 

After it seemed he was going to continue fighting to change to his bear form, the guards began to beat him with fists and feet, so he'd quieten. Dayan's hands twitched to grab his scimitars; his vision was blurred, edged in white. Something felt hot in his head, and warm wetness covered his cheeks.

He actually felt himself start to lurch forward, a hand moving to his weapon of its own accord, but a grip on his arm stopped him. One of his fellow house swords -- he gave Dayan a quick shake of the head. The drow gritted his teeth in grief and anger and turned back, but did not move again. 

Betrayer. That's what he truly was. He'd caused this. He doubted Halsin would ever forgive him.

Halsin finally collapsed, bloodied but alive, and docile as a lamb as all the fight in him evaporated. He lay limply, sobbing softly to himself, and didn't look up when Dayan came closer. The drow raised the dagger, watching those powerful, broad shoulders shake, and then stepped back and dropped his hand to his side.

"...I can't," he whispered. The Matron stepped up to him and grabbed him by the hair -- she was at least half a head taller than him. She yanked his head back painfully.

"Say it again. I want to be sure I heard you correctly, jaluk," she snarled and Dayan gritted his teeth.

"My lady, look at him! He's in tears, I, I can't..." He swallowed, then set his jaw firmly. "I won't."

She didn't even take a moment of consideration. With more strength than he thought she would have, she shoved him into the waiting arms of two of his fellow guardsmen. They'd traded amusing stories just a night ago, he thought idly. But they grabbed him without hesitation, held him painfully tight, arms wrenched so far behind his back his shoulders creaked. 

"Twenty lashes," she told them dispassionately. "Rub rock salt into the wounds. Then fifteen more. A cell afterwards." 

Halsin didn't raise his head as Dayan was dragged from the chamber. He didn't raise it when the Matron straddled him, dagger in hand, one of her sharp stiletto heels spearing into his back as she bent down and grabbed his hair in a fist. "These men are all the damned same," she spat. "Weak and soft and pathetic."

The last thing Dayan heard before being pulled back into the dark, was a knife slicing cleanly through hair, undercut every so often with a ragged, broken sob. 

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈ 

When Halsin rose that morning, his hair tickled his heels. He ran to tell grandfather; he'd begun to grow it out because it delighted the old elf so. Reminded him of the olden days, he said, when he himself was a young elf in High Forest. It was somewhat old fashioned by the time Halsin was old enough to know how he wanted his hair, but he still liked it. He liked it the most when grandfather ran a wooden comb through the length and braided it for him while telling him the story of his life.

The day it tickled his heels had been the day his grandfather's body decided it was time to return to the earth. He'd cut a long, long strand from his head and his father wound it around grandfather's hands, clasped together on his chest. Halsin did the same for his father, when it was his turn to reside in High Forest; and then his mother, and brothers and sisters after. 

He'd laughed when the girls had taken his hair in hand at the summer festival and twined it in elaborate braids for fun. They pulled him to them by the braids cheekily, one by one, and kissed him until he was breathless and they were breathless and their entwined bodies spilled to the woven mats below. Drunk on Winterfest wine that tasted sweet against his lips, he kissed the boy beneath him as he begged for the braid to be unbound; to let it pool over their bodies as they made love. Afterwards the boy smiled softly in the moonlight, blue eyes aglow, and nuzzled into the nest of Halsin’s hair before settling against his chest and counting their shared heartbeats.

Netashe would tease him from below his window, ask him to let the long tresses flow down like a princess in a storybook. They'd gather it up in clever fingers and kiss those waves until he was red-faced and stammering, and tease him more. They'd taken a lock of it bound in green ribbon with them when they left to see the world. It was what inspired him to make his own journey.

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈ 

Halsin lay on the cold chamber floor, his voice lost to tears, his mind lost to the warm haze of memories

His neck felt cold, the goosebumps prickling along his bruised arms. They bade him rise, jabbed him with the butt of their spears when he didn't. He finally managed to drag himself to his feet, eyes cast away so he didn't have to see his kin, his history, his life cut from him and left on the floor for someone to sweep up and burn. 

"What do I do with this?" someone asked as he was escorted from the room.

"Ugh, get rid of it. Ugly thing," someone else said. "Who keeps an old rusted knife, anyway?"

He was never going home. He knew that now. No one was coming for him, and now he'd been cut from the only thread to his life under the sun, as easily as if the Matron had cut his throat. A part of him wished she had.

He was going to stay hers, until she tired of him, or needed to use him for some advantage, and then he'd be sacrificed to their vile goddess. Enemies could come and kill him in the night, the collar keeping him from defending himself. Or one of the Matron's daughters would succeed and he'd be quietly gotten rid of -- sold to another House or offered to one of the lower city brothels, perhaps. 

No matter what, he was going to die down here, away from the forest and the sun and Thaniel. All the colors of his world would be taken from him, one by one -- sunlight yellow and sky blue and rose red and violet eyes like gemstones.

There was nothing else left, now, but the memories. Intangible to the touch, unreachable and torturous. But they were all he had. Dayan had been wrong.

But Silvanus save him, Halsin so desperately wished he'd been right.

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

#bg3 fanfic #halsin silverbough #drow tav #halsin #halsin fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #lolth sworn drow #seldarine drow

[callmemaeverick]

The First of Firsts [Master Chief x Reader]

AN: I would like to dedicate this to @dayane245love because her ask gave me the kick I needed to write this fic. She requested for me to give Reader a name, so for you, Dayane and whoever preferred to read this fic as John x OFC, you can read it on AO3

Warning: This is so full of cheese, if you’re lactose intolerant DNI…. Kidding 🤭..

This is part III of Soldier Sweet series. Read part ii here

You didn't expect to see John that night, wandering out of the massive base, his face dazed and somewhat confused. After the last few days, with him going AWOL after that mission in Madrigal, you would have thought that Halsey would have wanted to keep him on a tighter leash. He was, after all, her favorite.

You had been beside yourself with worry when you found out what had happened. In the months since John brought your earring back to you, since he volunteered to help you with your tour, you had became friends of sort. But trying to get answers on how he was doing was next to impossible and you could tell that the events had left Halsey and the higher ups on edge. Apparently, a Spartan is technically incapable of going rogue. And this was a first.

Shouldering your bag strap over your shoulder, you decided to approach him.

It was still an adjustment, seeing his face. You haven’t been around Spartans as much as the soldiers as your work tend to keep you indoors, so seeing him out of armor is a novelty. He was handsome, you had to admit. The strong jaw, the intense green eyes. You remembered the way his naked gaze fell on you, burning your skin, feeling it even when he had his helmet on. You would only admit to yourself, though, that feeling his eyes following you made butterflies flit in your stomach.

He stood still in the middle of a sea of soldiers, head tilted up watching the skies as if it was the first time he was truly seeing it. Judging from what you have heard of the Spartan program, it was very likely the truth.

"It's beautiful, huh?"

John swiveled around and even standing two steps above him, you were still about a few inches shorter. You gave him a smile. "Hiya."

xxxx

John felt his stomach swoop as if he was doing a barrel roll in the Condor. It was the first time he had seen you since he got back from the Rubble and Madrigal and… he didn't remember you being so beautiful. Everything about you was suddenly so much more captivating to him. When previously he liked the way you smiled, the way the colors you wore made you stand out in a drab crowd, now… now you were positively breathtaking.

Even your name sounded better on his tongue.

"How are you, John?" You asked, stepping down to his side. "You gave us all quite a fright."

He looked down at you and wondered if you were scared of him or for him. "I… was going through some things." He told you truthfully, meeting your eyes. "But I think I'm better now."

His eyes noticed the slight redness creeping up your cheeks and the way you averted your gaze from him. He wondered what it meant. 

Discreetly, he took you in. He had never seen you outside of your lab coat before and he was liking what he was seeing. The simple shirt you had on and the slim-fitting jeans complimented your shape perfectly. The brightly coloured highlights in your hair stood stark contrast again its natural colours and his fingers twitched to touch them.

“John, your heart rate is elevated.” Cortana chimed in his ear. “And your body temperature just rose. Are you…anxious?”

"Are you going somewhere?" He asked you, ignoring the Al.

"Oh, I'm just heading home. In the city."

"Can I walk you?"

"All the way to the city?"

"Yes."

"…Okay,"

xxxx

You didn't know why you immediately agreed, but you did know you felt safe with John. In the limited time you spent with him, he gave you no indication that made you suspect any ill intentions. In fact, all his interactions with you felt truthful, genuine, and it made him all the more endearing to you.

The two of you walked in companiable silence towards the train station. From time to time you would tell him little snippets of your daily journeys to and from work. You’d tell him which coffee stand made the best latte, which bagel stand is your favorite and all the while, John took it all in.

Something was different with him, but it was not a bad different. He seemed unusually curious, and dare you say it, interested in everything around him. It was not something you were aware of about Spartans. As far as you knew, they were unfeeling and stoic, almost robotic. But seeing John, open-faced and wide-eyed in wonder made you rethink what you knew.

Standing across from him in the train, you watched him eye the young couple further down the car. They were cozy with each other, giggling softly at whispered words, totally unaware of the world around them and totally in love. You watched John and wonder if he is capable of love, if he feels the pull to be close to someone.

"John?"

He turned to you. "Hm?"

"It’s rude to stare,” You teased playfully and giggled when the tips of his ears turned bright red. You just made the Master Chief flush. Chuckling, you moved until you were beside him, leaning against the car wall and his arm. “What’s going on, big guy? You seemed… I don’t know, confused, like you’re lost.”

The man beside you sighed. He glanced at the couple once more before turning to you. That’s when he told you about the pellet.

xxxx

He didn’t know why he didn’t even hesitate, but he knew he trusted you. He was trained to have sharp instincts and it hadn’t failed him before. And his instincts about you are good. He felt light with you, lighter now without the pellet. You look at him without any expectations of who he had to be. You look at him like he’s John. Just John.

By the time he finished, the train had arrived at Tchakova Park and you were looking at him like you were seeing him in a brand new light.

“Okay, so you’re saying that you’re experiencing this,” You waved your hand around. “All of this, for the first time?”

He raised an eyebrow at you and you laughed.

“Oh my God! Then, you need to see this!”

Without warning, you grabbed his hand and pulled him towards a well-lit park across the street.

The warmth of your skin against his calloused palms were jarring to him, and John felt his breath catch in the cold air. Still, he let himself be pulled by you. The closer you got to the park, the more aware he was of the lilting sounds traveling from the center of it.

As you slowed to a walk, you grinned up to him, navigating through the throng of people until you reached an arena-like stage of some sort. And in the middle of it, were two musicians putting in a show.

He froze as he watched them, as the music washed over him. It was beautiful, haunting and it filled him up with foreign feelings. He glanced at you beside him and saw that you had your eyes closed, head tilted slightly upwards as the last drizzle of the night’s rain fell on your face.

Cortana’s inquiring voice was soft in his ear. "Is this why you’ve removed your pellet? So you could hear things differently?"

Maybe. He thought. Maybe just wanted to hear it the way you do.

xxxx

You felt his gaze on you like flames dancing on your skin, but you did your best to shrug it off as you opened one eye to catch him. Ignoring the heat in your cheeks, you gave him a teasing smile.

“John, you’re staring again.”

He blinked and quickly turned. “Sorry.”

You shook your head, endeared at this new person before your eyes. Here was a man, trained and honed to be one of the most effective soldiers in the galaxy, and he couldn’t stop staring at you in wonder.

“You should be listening.” You chided lightly. “Here,” Climbing onto one of the seats behind him, you asked if it’s okay to touch him. At his nod, you guided him to face the show by his shoulders. Then, slowly, you placed your hands over his eyes. Leaning over, you whispered in his ear. “Breathe. Listen.”

He stiffened for a second at your words, but relaxed gradually. You knew exactly you had gotten him where you wanted him when he sighed and his straight shoulders slumped for the first time, probably ever.

When the set ended, you gently released him from your hold, letting him blink off the onslaught of bright lights. You were smiling so wide when you caught the dazed look on his face.

He turned to face you.

“Thank you. That was… that was beautiful.”

There was no hiding the blush that rose up your face at his declaration, but you nodded. “I’m glad you got to experience it.” You turned to hop off the seat, when his hand caught yours, stopping you.

Seemingly surprised at his own actions, John faltered.

“No. It’s okay. You can touch me.” You assured him. He had trusted you and you want to repay it in kind.

Nodding, he stared at your hand in his, engulfed completely. His thumb rubbed back and forth, back and forth over your skin, the action almost hypnotizing.

You didn’t want to rush him, knowing how overwhelming new sensations can be.

He looked up to you, something you knew he’d never had to do before. His eyes scanned your face before his hand left yours.

The feel of his touch skittering over your cheek almost made you gasp, but you held his gaze. There was a question there, something he wanted answered.

“Can I kiss you?”

Deep down, you knew that that was the question, but it still floored you that he’d asked. Biting your lips, you nodded.

He leaned in slow, halting and hesitant. His hand cupped your face oh so gently, as if any more force would break you. Never in your life someone handled you so delicately.

When your lips met, your eyes immediately closed as tingles shot straight to your toes. Your hands came up to his face, fingers lightly scratching the stubble there. It was sweet and somehow innocent for a man of John’s stature and reputation.

When you part, you registered that the world was still revolving, not halted like you felt it did. Catching yourself before anything embarrassing happened, you blinked at him.

“Was that your first kiss?” You whispered, soft, secretive.

John licked his lips. “Yes. Sorry, I-“

“No. No.” You cut him off, smiling. You took his hand that was still resting at your cheek with both of yours, sharing warmth. “I’m honored, John.”

It was by no means the best kiss you’ve ever had. But you didn’t care because at that moment, for what seemed to be the first time in a long long time, you were given another honor. The honor of seeing the Master Chief smile.

FIN

Tagging: @redpool @weirdodreamergirl @violinchick @ageless-aislynn @lialacleaf

I'm not sure if I missed anyone. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the comments, so I can keep track. Also if you wanna be taken off. :)

#halo #halo paramount+ #master chief #master chief x reader #master chief imagines #john 117 #john 117 x reader #john 117 imagines #pablo schreiber #pablo schreiber imagines #halo tv #halo paramount spoilers #mav's posts

[prairiesongserial]

23.6

“What is this place?” John asked. 

The chatter from the dozen or so children looking down on them from the balcony had grown louder. Without answering, Cassidy began to steer Percy by the shoulders toward a spiral staircase.

“Be a dear, toss Ephraim over,” Cassidy said over their shoulder. “Come on, boys, don’t look so grave. It’s only school.”

John did not toss Ephraim over. ‘Ephraim’ was clinging to his leg. Percy managed to duck Cassidy and make his way back over to John and Gawain. Percy bent over to whisper in Gawain’s ear.

“I think it’s all right,” he said. “Mr. John and Mr. Val brought us here, and there are a lot of kids. Let’s go up with Cassidy.”

Gawain shook his head and clutched John’s leg even tighter. Cassidy stood at the banister, waiting for the boys. Forced to wait, maybe they would also be forced to answer John’s question.

“What is this place?” John asked again.

Cassidy sighed and scratched the back of their neck.

“This is where I’m from,” they said. “I spent seventeen years in this tower. It’s the best you lot can ask for–three meals a day, and I seriously doubt anyone is going to come to little Baveldertshtet looking for those two.”

“But what is it,” John pressed.

“It’s…a yeshiva?” Cassidy said, then launched into what sounded like a prepared speech: “The tower is a school of study on the Torah, Rabbinic literature, and philosophy. Each floor  represents a year of study. Every year during finals week, all students have the opportunity to test themselves against the master of their floor. If they pass the floor master’s examination, they will be allowed to progress to the next floor and begin a new course of study in the new year.” Cassidy paused. “So…let’s go? Boys, come now.”

Percy and Gawain were looking at John to answer for them. John looked back at them.

“I suppose, ah, we should get on,” Percy said. He didn’t move. “It’s a touch nerve-wracking, not speaking the language. But one must carry on, Gawain.”

John began to peel Gawain off his leg. In the meantime, Cassidy had been pulled back into conversation with the children on the balcony. They spoke animatedly, with a hint of argument in their voice. The other children openly stared at the two boys, whispering to each other.

“I’ll go with you,” John said to Percy.

Percy nodded several times. He chewed his lip. Gawain exchanged his grip on John’s leg for his hand.

“Ah-ah-ah, what is this?” Cassidy said. “I negotiated for two little children, not two little children and a big scary man.”

“Renegotiate,” John said. He started up the stairs with Percy and Gawain pressed close. Cassidy followed on his heels, pleading their case to the other children in fast-spoken Yiddish as they approached the top.

“Er heyst John…uh…”

The children on the second floor landing scattered as John reached the top of the stairs. Most of the area was taken up by large tables. On the tables were open books. There were shelves of books as well, none taller than hip-height, which made it awkward for the children trying to hide from him.

John stepped deeper into the room. Percy had taken his other hand at some point on the stairs. Around them, there was another shuffle as hiding places were exchanged.

“Baruch dayan ha'emet,” came a little, fervent voice.

Behind him, Cassidy burst into laughter.

“Who are you saying that for? Who has died? If you’re saying that for yourself, at least say the whole thing.” They switched to Yiddish to repeat the question.

Finally, someone came out to meet them. It was still a kid, but an older one, fourteen or fifteen. She had dark skin and two orderly braids that ended just under her ears. She blinked at them from behind large glasses.

“Zey nisht redn eydish?” she asked.

“Nit daytsh, nit frantsoyzish, nit holendish…” Cassidy explained. They spoke for a little while. John closely chaperoned Percy and Gawain’s hesitant exploration. A sharp laugh drew John’s attention back to Cassidy. They had turned away from the girl, an annoyed look on their face.

“The rabbi doesn’t come down during finals week,” Cassidy explained. “But the floor master won’t let us go up without testing. Ridiculous waste of time. They’re going to make us test out of every single floor.”

John kept one eye on Percy and Gawain, who had finally let go of his hands. Percy had wanted to look at the books more closely, and Gawain didn’t want to be more than a few feet away from him.

“So?” John asked.

“So, I hope you’re excited for me to school these kids on Rabbi Akiva. Eight floors should only take, oh, all night.” Cassidy stretched their arms out over their head with a loud yell, then rolled their neck. “Okay. Greyt?” They made eye contact with the older girl, whose expression turned serious. “Gebn mir di kashye.”

John watched Cassidy go back and forth with the girl. The test looked like an argument. Percy and Gawain stood around awkwardly until one of the kids poked his head up from behind the bookshelves.

“V-v-vi heyst du?” he asked.

“He asked your name, Menasche. Make a friend,” Cassidy said over their shoulder, then returned to their conversation with the floor master.

Percy stuck his hand forward. “I’m Percy–or, er, Mena…Menashe. I’m sort of on the lam. This is my brother, E…oh, um.” He looked to Cassidy for help.

Cassidy again interjected, translating for Percy. “Menashe, why don’t you ask him ‘vi heyst du,’ hm?”

John crossed his arms over his chest and watched Cassidy hold two conversations at once, translating both sides of Percy’s conversation while talking to the floor master. At a certain point they mixed up what to translate into what language. Instead of bothering to keep track, Cassidy began to narrate everything in an endless stream of English and Yiddish.

“So to answer your question, Sarah,” Cassidy said, “Why do we say ‘Blessed is the true judge’ when we learn of someone’s passing? This is because we should thank God for the bad as well as the good. ‘You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul and with all of your means.’ What is the meaning of ‘all’ in this scripture–’all’ your heart, ‘all’ your soul, ‘all’ your means? ‘All’ means ‘complete’–one must love the Lord, your God ‘completely.’ Now, Sarah, consider the commentary by Rashi…”

Little heads began to pop up as Cassidy continued their speech.

“...This brings us to Rabbi Akiva.” Their gaze snapped to the children watching over the top of the bookshelves. “Berachot 60b,” they said, and the children scattered. Cassidy waited until the sound of pages turning finished. “The great sage Rabbi Akiva was traveling and came upon a city. He looked for a place to stay, but no one would have him. ‘No matter,’ he said. ‘All that God does, he does for the good.’ So Rabbi Akiva camped out. He had with him only a candle, a rooster, and a donkey. In the night, a wind blew out his candle. A cat ate his rooster. A lion ate his donkey. Rabbi Akiva still said, ‘All that God does, he does for the good.’” 

Cassidy caught up to themself in both languages, then paused for breath before continuing. “The next day, Rabbi Akiva learned that the city was beset overnight by marauders, and everyone was captured. Only Rabbi Akiva was spared. Without his candle, the marauders did not detect any light. Without the rooster and donkey, no noise attracted their attention.” Cassidy clapped their hands together. “What, Sarah, does this have to do with the bracha ‘Baruch dayan ha'emet’? I will tell you. From this story, we learn that everything happens for a reason, although that reason is only for the ‘true judge’ to know. That is why we say ‘Blessed is the true judge’ in the face of mourning, just as you children should say ‘This is also for the good’ in the face of unpleasantness and adversity.”

Sarah, the floor master, took a key from her pocket and led Cassidy to the far side of the room. Cassidy gestured for John and the boys to follow.

“Don’t bother asking them, their answers are the same as mine,” Cassidy said, gesturing between John and the boys. They peeked over their shoulder at the other children–the whole second floor landing was in an uproar. “Looks like we were the first to pass this year.”

Sarah said something to Cassidy that they didn’t translate. John detected a drop in their mood, although Sarah’s tone didn’t give anything away.

“Okay, okay, let’s go,” Cassidy said, waving the boys through the door. “One step closer to the rabbi.”

23.5 || 23.7

#story

[kudriaken]

1-) What were your main cultural and historical inspirations used for the characters' design and the fashion from the empire?

2-) Did any real historical events serve as base/inspiration for the story?

3-) What is your favorite part of working on your world and characters?

4-) I might be mistaken on this one, but remember seeing only Sylvia and Asheid wearing adornments and clothing that resemble a golden bird. Is it something traditionally worn only by the women of the imperial family?

5-) Asheid, Heil and Sylvia both have white irises, while their siblings and parents (minus their grandmother) have normal black ones; is it just a character design choice or a more in-world reason?

6-) How does someone find out they are a mage? Is it more of a natural thing or must they go through some type of test/accident to find out?

7-) Are there any religions or predominant religious institutions in the Empire? If yes, is it like a pantheon with each of them representing an idea or role, having their own cult of followers or just one main deity?

8-) Is the imperial family the monarchs due to their features in conquering so much territory or do they use "divine right" as a reason?

10-) Do the Royal children have any role or job? For example; diplomat, council member, knight or even library assistant?

11-) Why does Vivian doesn't like Saphire and Asheid?

12-) Has Corvus ever felt or been treated differently from his siblings for his lack of mana?

13-) How old are the parents?

14-) How long has Edlyn and Magnus been divorced?

15-) Were any of the characters inspired/ Influenced a little by real people?

16-) Is there a difference from how the Royal children were educated from one to another? How was their education?

17-) Who are the siblings closest to in their family?

18-) Will Dayane and Oriana play a role in the politics and succession problems in the story?

19-) Before entering the palace, what was Empress Vivian doing? How she met Magnus?

20-) Does Saphire lives in the palace with her family? Does she fells any resentment towards her father?

21-) What happened to Edlyn after the divorce?

22-) Is Magnus also mage?

23-) How were Magnus illegitimate children treated compared to Help?

24-) Do Asheid, Heil and Corvus have their own supporting factions?

25-) Did the nobles and commoners from the empire and Velmont oppose Magnus and Edlyn's divorce? Did he and Vivian face any backlash for it?

26-) Are all races able to use magic?

27-) In Chinese/Korean periods pieces and real history, there are different smaller palace building for different people representing their role (emperor;empress;consorts;crown prince/ss), does the empire follow a similar system? Is it just one big palace for the whole family and court?

28-) What happens to the new emperor/ss relatives and siblings when they ascend the throne? Are they given titles and lands, married into political alliances or are them given the ottoman treatment?

29-) How are the different races treated in empire?

Wow, that took me a lot of time, sorry... Thank you so much for questions! I tried to answer all of them shortly and I am sorry for my grammar. WARNING: A lot of text!!!!! 1-) What were your main cultural and historical inspirations used for the characters' design and the fashion from the empire?

Generally everything I find suitable for the character. Which is a lot. But I want to say, I don`t usually use just one culture for my own as inspiration. It`s usually a mix of many different things, I don`t like making direct adaptation of real countries in my world.

For the Empire I took a lot from Byzantium, Ottoman Empire, Persia, Assyrian Empire even a little bit from Egypt.

2-) Did any real historical events serve as base/inspiration for the story?

Mostly general patterns of history than one exact event or historical period. However, I sometimes take some details from the real historical event. But again I don`t like when fantasy world has almost exact event that took place in our history. But parallels can be great if well done.

3-) What is your favorite part of working on your world and characters?

Probably drawing different designs for the characters or some of their interactions with each other. I also like drawing random people that could possibly live in my world, but not being included in the plot.

4-) I might be mistaken on this one, but remember seeing only Sylvia and Asheid wearing adornments and clothing that resemble a golden bird. Is it something traditionally worn only by the women of the imperial family?

Thank you for noticing! Yes, it`s the symbol of the family, so ceremonial garments usually depict it.

5-) Asheid, Heil and Sylvia both have white irises, while their siblings and parents (minus their grandmother) have normal black ones; is it just a character design choice or a more in-world reason?

Kudos for noticing! It`s in-world thing as well. They inherited it from their father. It usually signify that a person belong to this particular magical bloodline and inherited it`s magic abilities. There are cases when people inherited magic, but don`t have white irises. So some families have some specific traits that can be passed on.

6-) How does someone find out they are a mage? Is it more of a natural thing or must they go through some type of test/accident to find out?

It`s a natural thing usually, except unusual circumstances or deceases. Children expected to show signs of magic from 4 to 8, usually on accident. Since children tend to have weak underdeveloped magic it`s treated as normal and not dangerous. They can be tested though if their family have resources. However, specific testing for the type of powers is usually not very accessible across the world.

7-) Are there any religions or predominant religious institutions in the Empire? If yes, is it like a pantheon with each of them representing an idea or role, having their own cult of followers or just one main deity?

Yes, there are. Faith of the Ascended is the main faith in the Empire with quite numerous amount of priests. It has a pantheon consisting of 4 Gods. The Father God - Astaroth and his 3 children. Each one has own set of legends about them, and virtues assigned to them. People should pay respect to all Gods and their teachings, but usually choose to worship only one, that is closely aligned with their own values. Generally, figures in power tend to worship Astaroth, farmers and knights Helebor, mages and healers - Cillinei and artists and scientists - Aren. But it`s a very rough simplification.

Many other countries follow this religion, but in different interpretations of God`s roles and events. Which always cause religious disputes and sometimes even holy wars. Empire is notorious for their audacity to treating themselves as descendants of the Gods, so equating themselves to divine beings.

8-) Is the imperial family the monarchs due to their features in conquering so much territory or do they use "divine right" as a reason?

It`s a combination of both. They claim to descend from the blood of the Goddess, as some other prominent noble families. So among these currently existing families they were the one who succeeded more at suppressing the others by conquest.

10-) Do the Royal children have any role or job? For example; diplomat, council member, knight or even library assistant?

Yes, but still partly since most of them young. Saphyre is helping managing the palace finances and also occasionally checking how taxes were gathered with other clerks.

Corvus, Asheid and Heil represent themselves in the Council, because of the title as prince/princess. It allows them to vote on the matters of the Council. Corvus is generally not active in diplomacy or political discussions, so he received his place on the battlefield among the imperial generals and knights.

Heil is working as apprentice for one of the Emperor`s advisers, this way he actually participate in important closed meetings. Also since he generally very fluent with languages he act as a diplomat when it`s needed. It`s not important for the actual policy, but he also participate in artist`s evenings and sponsors some of them.

Asheid is an active Council member with membership in one of the parties. So she represents both herself and this party`s interests. She is also sent to diplomatic missions when her father orders it. She recently also received an opposition of the temporary governor for one of the cities that had political instability.

Other children are too young too anything.

11-) Why does Vivian doesn't like Saphire and Asheid?

Simply put it, they are not her own kids, so she see them as potential threat. Also Vivian generally don`t like a lot of people.

12-) Has Corvus ever felt or been treated differently from his siblings for his lack of mana?

Yes, he never was mentored or advised by his father because he is not a mage. Magnus thinks there are people more skilled with sword than him, so he just ordered them to educate his son. Corvus also had to train more physically and study skills specific skills to combat mages without using actual magic. Also he can`t bond based on mage`s daily problems.

13-) How old are the parents?

Magnus is 38, Vivian - 36, Edlyn - 38.

14-) How long has Edlyn and Magnus been divorced?

8 years

15-) Were any of the characters inspired/ Influenced a little by real people?

Yes, as well as some events in the story and character`s relationships. But I don`t want to share it because of privacy reasons. But I can safely say that some of the names were inspired by the names of people close to me.

16-) Is there a difference from how the Royal children were educated from one to another? How was their education?

Yes, they totally were.

Heil is the best educated in academical sense. His mother influenced his education a lot, focusing more on liberal arts and magic theory. He was provided with a lot of different teachers of the highest qualifications. He actually writes a lot himself and acts in academical circles. His best physical skill is horse riding, which he greatly enjoy.

Asheid had a rough start since she begun her education only after she came to palace at 8 y.o. However she worked very hard to catch up with other kids and eventually mastered her skills enough for the princess title. The hardest were her magical studies, since she could not control it.

Corvus was mostly pressured to score high with military education and physical combat. He has decent understanding of other subjects, like law, etiquette, history, administration, but his writing and speaking skills are disastrous.

Saphyre had only basic education worth of the court lady, except for managing finances. On this topic she received an amazing teachers. Also she is very passionate about theatre and poetry, so she educated herself on this subject.

Ian, contrary to his older brother - Corvus, doesn`t have any talent for physical activities. He is not good at handling any weapon and even bad at horse riding. But he is good at history and working with archives. However, he is very lazy and prefer to be seem as such.

Sylvia is very young her education is far from complete. Since many assumed she is not competing for the succession, her education is generally taken lightly. She can do whatever she likes to do. Currently she is trying to learn how to do sword fighting, sewing and study Old Almerian language.

17-) Who are the siblings closest to in their family?

Saphyre - prefers to keep to herself, but hang out more with Heil and Asheid to discuss fashion, current gossips and art occasionally.

Asheid definitely with Heil.

Heil with Asheid, his mother and his uncle(mother`s brother).

Corvus with his full-blooded siblings and mother.

Ian with Sylvia, she is the only one who is not nagging him about being lazy.

Sylvia, has good relationship with everyone, but closest to Ian and her father.

18-) Will Dayane and Oriana play a role in the politics and succession problems in the story?

Yep, especially Orianna. But that`s a spoiler.

19-) Before entering the palace, what was Empress Vivian doing? How she met Magnus?

Mostly living her best life as an heir of the rich noble family, occasionally hosting parties and participating in duels. She kinda also were on battle campaigns with her father, but she was not on the frontlines. She met Magnus once he visited Vivian`s lands for the celebration.

20-) Does Saphire lives in the palace with her family? Does she fells any resentment towards her father?

Yes, she lives in the palace. Even if she feel something, you could never tell. She is very masterful at controlling her emotions regarding this matter. She mostly act as a very grateful and behaved daughter.

21-) What happened to Edlyn after the divorce?

She is banished from the court and had to live in small mansion in the countryside under supervision.

22-) Is Magnus also mage?

Yes, an extremely strong one. None of his kids are currently on his level.

23-) How were Magnus illegitimate children treated compared to Help?

Heil had more opportunities to study and unquestionable respect that comes with the status of prince. Eventually it changed when his parents divorced. After that some nobles turned their back on him, and he became the subject on constant noble scheming. Vivian`s kids were mostly ok, having very calm and comfortable childhood with their mother`s family. Sylvia is probably the luckiest one, since her father actually paid attention to her and she was never pressured into anything. Saphyre were almost forgotten until she was summoned to the court and Asheid was a mere poor peasant before her father discovered her. Both girls were treated with negligence by the nobility at the start, but currently it`s not the case.

24-) Do Asheid, Heil and Corvus have their own supporting factions?

Yes. Heil and Corvus obviously have a privilege to be supported by their noble relatives. Asheid has admirers among commoner mages and newly made nobility, Heil has allies in the Western provinces, academical circles and old noble mages, Corvus has allies among non-magical noble families and army. There are also different Orders at play.

25-) Did the nobles and commoners from the empire and Velmont oppose Magnus and Edlyn's divorce? Did he and Vivian face any backlash for it?

Yes. It is still a point of political tensions here. That`s why the Empire mandated to have an “emperial advisor” to the regent of Valmont, to observe the situation and veto the radical decisions.

At the time, Valmont wasn`t capable to oppose the emperor successfully. However the divorce severed Emperor`s relationship with nobles in the West. And of course added new tension to the court relationships and family.

26-) Are all races able to use magic?

Most of them, yes. One of the races are only capable of Enchantment.

27-) In Chinese/Korean periods pieces and real history, there are different smaller palace building for different people representing their role (emperor;empress;consorts;crown prince/ss), does the empire follow a similar system? Is it just one big palace for the whole family and court?

Currently it`s a one big palace, but they also have smaller places spread across empire.

28-) What happens to the new emperor/ss relatives and siblings when they ascend the throne? Are they given titles and lands, married into political alliances or are them given the ottoman treatment?

There are no accepted custom or law that tell to get rid of other candidates for the throne, but there were precedents. Relatives allied with new Emperor/Empress usually tend to receive better positions and titles. The siblings of the new ruler can receive the position of the advisor or at court, or on the contrary be sent away to not cause trouble.

29-) How are the different races treated in empire?

Depends on the region. But on average, humans are at the best position and considered the dominant race. Ecier are feared and disliked. Moroks are treated as inferior and uncultured, but feared because of their strength. Shadars are respected and envied because of their affinity to magic. Varsa were slaves of Southern nobility of Empire at one point in past, so the attitude is very bad still. Dorosi were formerly enslaving humans on the West coast, but currently they relationship is more of a shaky partnership. Small image of the family in the end:

[pargolettasworld]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W9Eqg-oiS5A

Desperate people will do desperate things, and put their full faith and trust in a future that might or might not ever come.

Some Jewish children survived the Holocaust because their parents surrendered them to Christian orphanages, many run by monks or nuns.  In addition to the risk of losing their parents forever (which many of the kids did), the kids were in danger of having their Judaism stamped out by the adults running the orphanages who would do their level best to convert them.  A lot of kids did end up being converted.

But there were some who emerged still Jewish, even if just barely.  After the war, in 1945, American Rabbi Eliezer Silver and British Dayan (rabbinical judge) Isidor Grunfeld traveled through Europe visiting orphanages where they thought that Jewish children might have been hidden.  The story goes that they would show up at these places and, rather than ask which children were the hidden Jews, they’d start saying the Shema.  And because that’s often the very first bit of Hebrew that little Jewish kids learn, their ears would perk right up, and they’d come to see who was saying it.  And then Silver and Grunfeld could take them out of the orphanage and try to find the remnants of their families.

This song honors those families that had to make that awful choice.

#jewish music

[thegreatandpowerfulversy]

More Jewish Elden Ring thoughts

@znarikia said:

This is a very interesting reading, thank you for writing and posting it.  What do you make of the One Great and the status of the Omen, misbegotten, and albinaurics?

1. The “One Great”

I had to look up the "One Great" since I'd never encountered the name in game. Seems to me to be a fiction invented by the Frenzied Flame as propaganda. We already know it likes to imitate or impersonate G-d through using Fingers as its messengers, so it would be in character for it to also claim some relation in an attempt to legitimize itself and help convert visitors.

While it’s true that G-d did also create “torment, despair, affliction, every sin, every curse”,[1] this is not necessarily a mistake, certainly not one that can or should be solved by genocide. Judaism acknowledges that G-d being singular and all-encompassing implies that G-d is responsible for what we humans consider evil as well as good, and this is accepted.

Take for example the phrase baruch dayan emet, “blessed is the true judge”, used when a great person dies or something else we find unjust occurs. Or the Mourner’s Kaddish, which makes no actual mention of death and is really about G-d’s greatness. The Jewish people are no stranger to bad things happening,[2] and so we make peace with it how we can. There’s certainly no need to scour the world with yellow flame.

2. Marginalized people of the Lands Between

To clarify, the latter half of my question isn't meant to be a gotcha, but rather if you think it's an issue with the Prophet, G-d, the broader faithful, or something else entirely.

Thanks for the clarification, and yeah it is kind of fucked up how the demihumans and similar are treated. I’m not sure if we’re ever given any canonical information on the origins of Omens or misbegotten, but we do know at least that Omens are a very old phenomenon.[3]

My guess is that they’re a relic of the Crucible, from when the world and its life were still in the process of creation and forms were not yet standardized.[4] They have horns, and tails, and various bits of anatomy we don’t consider “human” in the present day. The Torah states that G-d created the world in six days and rested on the seventh; here maybe the process was a bit lengthier. In a way, the evolution of species from the primordial Crucible seems almost to be the Law of Regression run in reverse for a while, in the interest of creating order and civilization.

I would therefore call Omens a product of G-d just as humans, and no fault lies with the Greater Will for their treatment. Once, in prehistoric times their traits were more common and were in fact valued,[5] so I would have to chalk it up to mainstream humanity losing sight of b’tzelem Elohim and coveting an ideal of perfection through uniformity -- and we all know “purity” doctrines never work out well in the end.

 As for albinaurics, they are said to be “lifeforms made by human hands”[6] and then subsequently abandoned over perceived flaws. There’s not much said on the matter, but there’s a hint in the mention of their chosen land, the Haligtree.[7] It’s possible the human hands that made them were Miquella’s, another attempt at an alternative to the Golden Order by someone who had asked the impossible of it and left rather than accept the truth. After all, they are supposedly created from a “primordial drop of dew”,[8] strikingly similar to the stories of blessed sap from the young Erdtree.

Once again, it seems to be humanity’s all too common dislike of anyone who looks different that’s to blame for their plight. Even if they are “untouched by the Erdtree’s grace”,[6] that’s no excuse to mistreat them. I’m not familiar with any actual rabbinic rulings on artificial lifeforms, but I do know the albinaurics are alive and conscious and that ought to be enough. It may help to think of them as humanity’s children rather than inventions, and anyone born to a Jewish mother is Jewish, no matter what.[9]

References

[1] Hyetta’s dialogue after becoming a Maiden of the Three Fingers [2] Pretty much all of history :( [3] Morgott's Great Rune [4] Aspects of the Crucible incantations [5] Crucible Feather Talisman [6] Albinauric Bloodclot [7] Dialogue from Albus [8] Albinauric Shield [9] Even if you believe Miquella is cisgender, Reform Judaism accepts patrilineal descent as well.

#elden ring #elden ring analysis #jumblr #jewish thought #commentary on the main Jewish Elden RIng post #znarikia

[coochiequeens]

Orthodox Jewish leaders couldn’t convince men to give up their smartphones so they can pay more attention to their families. So the leaders guilt tripped the women into giving up their smart phones. And in doing so the women lost their social media and business accounts that connected them to other women.

Shaindy Braun and her wig business had nearly 40,000 followers on Instagram, amassed over nine years, when she abruptly announced her departure from the social media platform.

“I choose to leave this world of likes, followers and filters,” Braun wrote last week. “I will be leaving Instagram to live in the real world. I want to focus on curating my real life, filtering my thoughts and speech and sending love and likes to the important people in my life.”

Then she deleted her profile, cutting off a major line of communication to clients — and potential buyers — of Sary Wigs, a Lakewood-based company providing human-hair wigs to Orthodox Jewish women in New Jersey and beyond.

She wasn’t the only one: Moonlight Layette, a baby clothing brand, announced it would stop engaging actively on Instagram, directing customers to a WhatsApp number instead. So did Rivka Dayan, a resin artist who makes Judaica products, and others.

Their decisions might have come as a surprise to the brands’ followers — except that many of them had also tuned into two massive gatherings in Newark last week exhorting Orthodox Jewish women to put away their phones and disconnect from social networks.

Nekadesh rallies

“They force themselves to sit through this, being told how evil they are, how decadent they are today with their obsessions with ridiculous things and how spiritually inferior they are.”

Coming a decade after a landmark rally aimed at warning Orthodox men about the dangers of the internet, the rallies were meant to inspire women to spend more time away from their cell phones, according to its organizers. But critics in the Hasidic Orthodox community, including women who attended or listened in via a special phone line for remote participation, said pressure to attend was intense — and that the message was far from uplifting.

“They force themselves to sit through this, being told how evil they are, how decadent they are today with their obsessions with ridiculous things and how spiritually inferior they are,” one Hasidic woman told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency on the condition of anonymity because she still lives in a Hasidic community in Borough Park. “And they sit there and they listen to it and they nod and they accept it all and they internalize it.”

Known as an asifa or kinus (Hebrew words for gathering), the rallies drew tens of thousands of Hasidic Orthodox women to the Prudential Center in Newark last week, many transported on charter buses from Orthodox areas such as Lakewood, New Jersey, and Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Women with children in the Bais Yaakov network of schools received text messages and letters saying that the school rabbis urged them to attend; one mother told JTA that she was told her children would be expelled if she did not attend the rally, where tickets cost $54.

One rally was in English, while the other was in Yiddish, the dominant language spoken in many of New York’s Hasidic communities. The events, widely referrEd

to as “nekadesh rallies” using the Hebrew word meaning “make holy,” appealed to women’s maternal instincts — a winning line in a community where fertility is prized and women typically have many children and are responsible for their education.

“I miss the great times that we used to have before you got the cell phone that your boss gave you,” a young boy said during a speech at the Yiddish rally, according to a recording of the event. “I miss your sweet smile. Do you remember our conversations, when we used to laugh at our own stories, and not because we were listening to silly jokes on the little black box?”

At the English-language rally, half of the speakers were women, and at one point, the male rabbis who spoke left the arena so the women could sing together. The speakers presented the issue of social media as one where Orthodox women can choose more or less pious ways to engage with the internet. Among the speakers was Rina Tarshish, a rebbetzin and the director of a women’s seminary in Israel who is widely respected in the Hasidic world.

The rally was intense at times, with attendees being told at one point that technology is a manifestation of Satan’s efforts to spread rot in the world, according to a Twitter thread by someone who transcribed much of the event. But the Yiddish-language rally was more strident in tone and tackled women’s participation in civic life offline as well, according to people who were present. One rabbi who spoke even instructed women not to speak on the street, except in cases of emergency.

The event came 10 years after 40,000 Orthodox men were similarly exhorted to give up their smartphones at a major anti-internet asifa at Citi Field in New York City. Then, the message was about insulating the community from outside influences.

Ayala Fader, an anthropology professor at Fordham University who studies Hasidic communities, said what happened next helps explain the latest rallies.”

Men were refusing to give up their smartphones,” she said. “So leadership decided to focus on women and their responsibility for rearing kids and keeping the home and really protecting the next generation.”

see rest of aryicle

[captawesomesauce]

Thoughts at 650pm

I have friends who are very passionate about their culture. I have worked hard to assist them in their exploration and exercise of same. It is important to them, so that made it important to me. That is why many of you saw that I worked very hard with the Native American transfer group at UCLA as well as other groups. If they needed me to guide them through the red tape and documentation of putting on an event, or to answer general questions in a panel or 1-on-1, or even just to be a driver, or check in person at the door. If they needed it to make their event happen, I was willing to put in the time and effort... Because it was important to them.

And it was important to the people the events helped. It was important to their community, and their culture.

But I never really took the time to explore my own... and I have been thinking about that a lot.

My experiences with my culture have been almost one sidedly bad. From Hebrew school to Jewish camps, to dealing with a certain element of my family that is orthodox, the memories I have of these experiences are almost all negative. I was not put into situations where the people were like me... they did not dress like me, talk like me, sound like me, think like me, or act like me. I was an outsider.

They started speaking hebrew from birth, and knew the mishna, the talmud, the rituals and songs. They had memories attached to each, they had friends built on the experiences, they existed within the culture and helped grow it. It was practiced at home, at school, in all aspects of life.

My mother was as secular as they came. Pork Chops, shrimp, no hebrew education at all, no anything. She knew of things tangentially, but it was never practiced. My father was the same way. We didn't keep shabbos, we didn't go to shul, we didn't do much.

My paternal grandparents both escaped the pogroms and the holocaust and spoke yiddish, german, and russian as their primary languages. Their English was good though, but conversations were like many in families like that... a little of this, a little of that, a lot of the other. Zeyde was an alter kaker, their neighbor was a mamzer, my sister was full of mishigas, and the computer that never worked was always the farshtunkene machine!

I didn't know my maternal grandparents well at all. Grandpa's family came over earlier, and he went through the great depression in the US. His dad left when he was very young and he got a job with the railroads when he was barely a teenager. While they lived in the Jewish part of Detroit, it wasn't a part of their day in-day out. Grandma I know nothing about, except everyone hated her.

The thing is, my mothers sister was very frum orthodox. And I have cousins who also became either very conservative or orthodox, and we have a lot of family in Israel that have been there for generations.

But I don't really know them, or have any relationship to them besides knowing they exist.

I grew up isolated from them, from my extended family, and ultimately from my culture.

Attempts to enter, or learn more were unpleasant at best, and remain so. Be it the cultural aspect, or the religious aspect. To be frank, I doubt I could ever be religious after what I have seen and experienced throughout the world. There can be no higher power that allows such things to exist... there can be no higher power that deserves respect, love, or worship for the pain and suffering that exists because of him.

I mention this because I am currently reading Steven Pressfields "The Lion's Gate" about the Six Day war between Israel and the Arab armies, and I came across this section in which Moshe Dayan says:

Begin is one kind of Jew. Eshkol is another. I am like neither.

My experience is founded neither in Russia nor in Europe. I am a sabra. I was born here in Israel. I know nothing of the Talmud and I don’t want to know. I have no use for Yiddish. The so-called Jewish experience, which shaped my mother and father and other Diaspora Jews, the debates of the rabbis and the scholars, the interpretations of the law, to me these are angels dancing on the head of a pin. Nor do I make a religion of Zionism or socialism or the labor movement, despite all their worthy achievements.

My Bible consists of the books of the Patriarchs and the Judges. Its pages narrate the stories of Joshua and Gideon, of Saul and David and Jonathan. Say these names: Galilee, Mount Carmel, Beersheba, the Vale of Sharon. These sites are not theoretical to me. They are not a dream longed for from afar. They comprise the hills and flats that I have plowed and planted, tramped over and slumbered upon. A field at Ramat Yohanan has soaked up the last of my brother Zorik’s blood. I left my own eye in the dirt across the border with Lebanon. How many thousands have given the same and more?

The treads of a half-track rend a slope that has no name and is known to no one: Up comes an arrowhead three thousand years old. Dig again. Into the sunlight emerges a shard from the era of Joshua, the handle of a vessel from which a soldier of Israel once drank. Who was that man? He was myself.

I am that man.

and you know what? I felt that deep down. I have been immersed in other cultures... some where I wore a uniform, some where I cheered for a school or a team... but still, I see others who are "all-in" and I never quite felt that way. I am a fan of the steelers, but would I dress up or decorate everything I own in steelers stuff? Hell no. I might only watch half the games or less a year! Same with the carolina panthers! I don't even know all the players on the UCLA football team, and yet I see all of the games and I do consider myself a Bruin deep down.

But it calls back to the point ... what is my relationship to my culture? My biggest connections to it is being hated for being a Jew by so many, and not being Jewish enough by others. Like Dayan I acknowledge the worthy achievements, especially in regards to what Judaism has to offer and teach about how to be a good human being, and to do things because they're right, not out of fear of going to hell. But I am also the product of multi-generational trauma... my paternal side's traumatic events in Europe, as well as what they experienced living in the deep south as Jews in a small town in the 40s, 50s, and 60s. My maternal sides issues with racism, abandonment, and issues from the great depression. I grew up isolated, but knowing of these events to them, the way it shaped them, the way it made them act and interact, and at the same time, dealing with my own experiences of antisemitism and exclusion.

I do not know if this can be changed, or if I want it to. I do not ever see myself keeping the shabbos, or becoming a super-jew... but at my age, I have to look back and acknowledge it all.

#thoughts #personal

[nicosplace]

A/N: I finished the book and looked for fanfiction about dodge but couldn't find any.

To dodge it was all the same, get up ,come home , then see what the new panic challenge was that night .But this morning it was different, when Dodge got up he noticed his whole body hurt his head pounded and his Stomach was twisting and churning like crazy. "Must be from the challenge" he thought and all the adrenaline he used to try finish off the challenge. There were rumors that the police were closing in on the judge's and that the game might not continue. To everyone it wasn't a loss but to him it was, he wanted out of the town, dodge wake up!!" His mom yelled up. By the time he got Done getting ready  he rushed down the stairs seeing dayna already ready and eating her breakfast ( which he felt his stomach turn at the thought of eating.) " im leaving now not hungry!" He shouted before Dayna could ask what was wrong.

******time skip to the challenge **********

" OK TONIGHTS CHALLENGE IS YOU HAVE TO SPEND THE WHOLE NIGHT IN THAT HOUSE!!" Diggans yelled while everyone was pumped dodge was not he felt worse as the day went on and the heat wasn't helping while they got ready nat came over " hey you ok dodge? You don't looks so good." She asked concerned " yeah I'm fine just tired didn't get much sleep." He responded she nodded and left it there, the only thing she did was pull heather aside " keep an eye on dodge I'm going to do it to also he looks terrible, I'm worried about him." She whispered , heather nodded back at her.

***** during the middle of the night*****

When dodge woke up he was in extreme pain, what had started out as a simple stomach ache had morphed into something unbearable, he was moving so much that he woke heather up " dodge, dodge are you ok?? ." She asked when he responded with a whimper she knew it was bad. "Nat wake up dodge is in pain I don't know what's causing it!!" Heather screeched that woke nat up while they were trying to get dodge up he leaned over and threw up on the floor heather and nat jumped back one from extreme shock but also because they were frightened, when they looked back at Dodge they saw that there was a little bit of blood, " we gotta get him to a hospital heather call bishop and tell him to get here asap!!" Nat yelled while trying to calm down a panicking Dodge. She was surprised at how hot he felt she also knew he was playing panic because he wanted help for his sister and was scared if he missed a challenge he would be disqualified . "Shhh your ok dodge, we're getting you help." Nat tried to sooth but it wasn't working in his fever hase he could hear Nat talking to him but he was hallucinating from the pain and the fever, he knew he was crying but he didn't care he was in pain and just wanted it to be over. Once again he leaned over and threw up some more it hurts so much no one would understand " he's here Nat we gotta move fast if it's what I think it is!!" Heather screamed, and that's all dodge heard before passing out. "Heather he passed out!!.Dodge come one wake up please." Nat yelled making bishop almost crash the car she was trying to wake him up but it was not working at all.

***** time skip *****

When dodge woke up he could only feel a dull throbbing that has once felt like he was being stabbed, when he looked over he saw Nat, heather, and bishop all sleeping on the chairs that were in his room. Once they started to wake up they noticed he was awake and were so great full! "Dodge your ok!!" Nat cried and gently hugged him " "yeah why wouldn't I be?" He asked "never do that again dumbass ." Heather joined in. A few moments later that heard a knock on the door and showd his mom and sister in the doorway, " mom? Dayna? What are y'all doing here?" He asked " well when you hear your brother is in the hospital cause his appendix ruptured and worries your to death that's why we're here." Dayan said lightly punching him in the shoulder " why didn't you tell anyone that you felt sick honey?" His mom asked " because I'm doing something that I need to keep doing and if I stop then I can't get Dayna any help." Dodge answered.

A few days after he was aloud to go home and rest and not do anything like he'd pulled the days before, he had also learned he was sill in panic and not disqualified because it was a heath emergency.

Hope you guys enjoyed this!!! I'll try to update soon!!

Happy reading!!

-Nico

[the-desilittle-bird]

Author's Note- And here it is!!! React and let me know how you feel about the twist guys. Your interactions and comments encourage me greatly.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

The White Dragon

Darker Than Night (Chapter 4)

Summary- Secrets are kept behind the heavy walls of the Red Keep...

Tag List- @eliseline, @little-moonbeam-666, @blackhoodlea, @omgsuperstarg, @shopping, @lizlovecraft, @dayane, @bbgmonsay, @michelle-26, @all-things-fandomstuck, @hc-geralt-23, @chevelledahuman, @morganastrucker, @shrexy, @helloitsshitzulover, @daringboba, @minaxcarter, @b-tchymoon, @stargaryenx, @hukio, @targaryenmoony, @moon-light1415, @eudximoniakr, @themaze13, @candypurplebutterfly, @5moremin, @yariany02, @issybee0611, @beefbaby25, @shine101, @hopebaker, @andlizeth, @hyacinthus007, @lightdragonrayne, @prettykinkysoul, @mcam623, @marvelescvpe, @severewobblerlightdragon, @deltamoon14, @let-love-bleeds-red, @thatgirlthatreadswattpad, @ultrav0lence, @random-shit-i-like-2, @sunmoon-01, @savagemickey03, @kishie8, @watercolorskyy

Warnings- Steamy and my first start in writing smut, implication of forcing someone for intercourse, Westrosi Things.

Chapter 3 Chapter 5

The Red Keep was always full of secrets. Secrets kept away from the common people, from the nobles and sometimes, from the dragons ruling the continent.

Nights turned the beauty of the towering fort into a scary dance of shadows and secrets. The blazing torched did nothing to the creepiness crawling at the corners, neither could the guards.

Not many dared to walk these corridors after the sun removed itself from the sky and the moon started its reign over the skies with stars bowing to it.

A light moan echoed in the room as Aerea bit on her lower lip as another moan threatened to spill. A hand closed around her throat while other continued to abuse her bosom. Lips brushed against her collarbone, traveling to her ears.

"Dōna prūmia." (Sweetheart)

"Kepus..." (Uncle) Aerea purred, her fingers lacing into the silky silver hair while a groan echoed in her ear. "Ao ȳdra daor gīmigon tolvie run jaelan naejot gaomagon naejot ao, jorrāelagon," (You don't know every thing I want to do to you, dear) he hissed, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick a strip behind her ear.

"Daemon."

Aemond was restless as well as angry, trying to concentrate his anger and frustration on the blows he landed on the wooden piece which resembled a man.

His hands were adorned with blisters from continuous and rigorous training while his feet hurts like they were tasked to walk from Storm's End to King's Landing.

In his mind, the smiling face of his sister painted itself in a permanent memory and alongside her beautiful and innocent face was that savage lord who snatched her out of his hands. Only if Aemond could kill the Stark Lord and be done with him.

"Aemond?" Called his mother's concerned voice as he turned around, growling like a wounded animal with wide eyes. "What do you want?" He snapped, returning back to blow attacks at the dummy in front.

"You weren't present at the dinner. Why?" She asked, her voice drifting over to him with the breeze which stinged Aemond's hands. "As you can see mother. I am busy training," he grunted as he stabbed at the piece of wood.

Alicent sighed, her shoulders slumping as she watched her dear son lose himself into training after later that day's court. She was aware of his love for her youngest daughter and had somehow prevented him all these years to hurt him.

"I apologize that you aren't betrothed to Aerea, Aemond. But there are far more better-" Alicent was cut mid-sentence by Aemond's animalistic growl, just as if it was Vhagar. "I don't need better ladies of court, I want her."

"Your father has commanded her wedding to Cregan Stark, my son. None can change it," Alicent said carefully, her eyes trying to find any weakness she could use against Aemond to calm him for now, just as she always did. But it seemed that Aemond knew her trick, giving her away nothing but a cold stare.

"There is a way, mother," Aemond said with a wide smirk, as his eye sparkled with something evil. Alicent frowned her eyebrows, trying to comprehend what he means while he walks closer to her.

"I can steal her virtue, then she is left with no choice but to marry me," he whispered coldly with a malicious smirk on his face, making Alicent's eyes go wide as she shook her head. "You shall do nothing like that!" She exclaimed, her breathing rugged.

"We shall see mother."

Cregan laid in his bed, trying to grasp onto a bit of sleep before the sun rises again on the horizon. But it seemed that his mind was not ready to sleep, instead, memories he wished to bury deep in his mind resurfaced like ghosts from past.

His uncle's haunting words taunted him as he shifted to his side. 'Every single person you stay closed to will always live in misery, nephew. That is the curse you shall bear.'

Cregan groaned as he sat up, his eyes traveling to his ring lying beside his pillow. The house ring of Stark which was passed on by every Lord to Lord. Swirls of thoughts consumed as he thought of his legacy and the legacies left behind him by his fore fathers.

He was aware that his house was not as great as the House of the Dragons and it scared him a bit. Aerea was a dragon and possessed one. He had heard of the Targaryen... tendencies and it was something which his people as well as him frowned upon.

His mind went to the interaction between his betrothed and the Rogue Prince. Aerea seemed too close to Daemon, something which didn't sit well with the wolf lord but he swallowed it and let his head fall back to the pillow.

"How can this alliance help the north?" His mind wandered as he slept.

Four different personalities whose lives were woven intricately between the changing period of politics. As the silence of an upcoming war rumbled beneath the land, the threads of lives are also at stake.

What patterns shall be formed and which thread will prove to be the strongest? Only time could tell...

#house targaryen #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #aemond imagine #aemond x fem!reader #aemond one eye #cregan stark fanfic #cregan x targayen #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #the white dragon #house of the dragon imagine

[toehwa6]

You wanna know some fucking bullshit.

Listen to this dumb fucking shit.

So to the puzzle gang out there you know that og plastic 2x2’s are literally the craziest puzzles you can get like crazy collectors shit

I currently have two a stickerless and a white one. I need a fucking black one to complete the collection.

I’ve been looking for these stupid fucking things for years.

Well low and fucking behold some rando fuck shows up on Reddit going

oG pLaStIc 2x2’s for sale I got a bunch I’m ready to get rid of them blah blah blah

So I hit this dumb motherfucker up and I’m like

Hello please let me purchase your one black og plastic Dayan 2x2

He’s super cool shows me the puzzle blah blah blah

I pay him and he says he’s sending it out tomorrow

Doesn’t hit me up

I go, hey buddy! Did you send it?

He goes

Oh yeah, sorry I don’t check Reddit much! Yes I sent it out

I ask, when’s it gonna be here, tracking, how’d you send it blah blah blah

Doesn’t hit me up

I go, boi you fucking there?

He goes

Oh yeah, sorry I don’t check Reddit much!

This stupid motherfucker made a post on Reddit the day after I sent a message so he’s fucking ducking me

He goes. They said it’ll be there on the 18th

And then he fucking ghosts me again when I ask for tracking

At this point I’m losing my fucking mind

Eventually he gets back to me and calls me a fucking weirdo, saying he’s never had someone yell at him like this before

Like listen dumb fuck, you’re shipping one of the rarest fucking puzzles there are and you don’t give a fuck

That’s fucking weird

You literally don’t reply AT ALL, let alone with any tracking or a “hey I sent your package out”

He literally goes

Idk it sounds like YOURE the scammer trying to get a free puzzle from me!

Bro! You’re fucking r-ed!

I already paid you and I’m screaming for tracking to make sure you actually fucking sent it.

I’m losing my mind at this point.

This stupid motherfucker hits me with a “you’re*” joke

I want to fucking kms

He then makes some dumb fuck comment about how I didn’t pay him PayPal did

Like, are you actually r-ed?

You’re so fucking stupid Jesus fucking Christ

Anyway. I argue with this dumb motherfucker for a bit until he’s like alright jeez I’ll get you tracking jeez leave me alone

He gets me tracking, we say sorry. I wait for this stupid fucking puzzle to get here.

IT GETS HERE OMG

guess what

It’s not a fucking 50mm puzzle

You know, like the actual rare one? The one people actually use? The one people make a big deal out of?

Btw, forgot to mention

I call this guy out for not giving a fuck and he goes

Gosh it’s just a puzzle, “it’s not a million dollars”

No shit you fucking idiot

But you know what the fuck it is

The minute I hit this motherfucker with

Hey! I didn’t even know 46mm was a thing! I don’t want this! Give me a refund!

He goes

Oh, yeah, sorry forgot to mention the size

It’s still the og plastic and the same mechanism

I shit you not

“Still very sought after”

Like no it’s fucking not you fucking ape

And boom

That when he stops messaging me

Actually

He fucking blocked me

I find this out by(after the reason I’m furious which I’m going to explain) going on a fucking alt because Reddit said his account was gone

Nope!

Just fucking blocked me!

I write up this long as fucking chargeback on PayPal and absolute goddamn motherfucker the fucking page fucking takes me back to the fucking log in screen after I hit submit and everything I typed up for 30 fucking minutes is fucking GONE

I’m losing my mind and can no longer fucking REWRITE anything because I’m just FUCKED

I’m FUCKED

So I go to message this stupid fucker and say

Hey bud, refund me before I smack you with this chargeback

Btw I’m saying that you purposefully left out important info in order to mislead people

That’s when it hit me

His account is gone

And he blocked me on PayPal cause I can’t fucking message him there??

So I go on one of my many fucking alts

And look this motherfucker up

And write on one of his stupid fucking comments

Hey guy, message me back on my main before I smack you with this chargeback tomorrow. Thanks bye.

FUCK. YOU.

And that’s where the fuck I’m at now.

Bitching on a stupid fucking TUMBLR POST BECAUSE IM FUCKING MAD AT FUCKING NOTHING

I WANT TO FUCKING DIE

I JUST WANT TO FUCKING KILL MYSELF

IM MISERABLE

MY LIFE CANT GET ANY WORSE

But holy fuck

I’m going to get my fucking money back before I blow my fucking brains out

Fuck this mother fucker

Fuck these stupid puzzles

Fuck Reddit

Fuck everyone online

Fuck the puzzle community

Fuck talking to people

I fucking hate myself

I fucking hate being alive

I hope I fucking die soon

I don’t fucking care anymore

FUCK

If you’re reading this fuck you too

Fuck me??

Fuck you!!

FUCK YOU

FUCKING. DIE.

Can’t wait til I charge back this motherfucker and keep his motherfucking puzzle

I’m literally going to spit on garbage and mail that to him

FUCK. YOU.

I WANT TO FUCKING DIE I CANT GET OUT

I CANT GET OUT

I CANT GET OUT

FUCKING HELP ME PLEASE

HELP

FUCK

I fucking hate this shit

Don’t fucking read this too late go fuck yourself cya