"it's so embarrassing you like that popular thing" "oh ew that geeky/strange thing is so cringe lol" "oh it's kind of weird you get excited about that harmless shit"
dude i love how ironic and jaded you are and that's so cool and sexy of you. and i am so so glad to tell you - you won!! we all had a meeting and we decided that you won, and we are writing your name on the inside of a burger king crown. the marker smeared, sorry, but we knew any form of real effort is ugly to you. but anyway. congrats! you are officially the coolest, most ironic, most jaded person in-the-world-right-now. we would throw you a party but you would think it was totally boring - and besides, we're weird so we wouldn't have been coming. we would have brought our love of beetles and of baking and of little canapes. we would have brought our artsy videogames and pages of writing. we would have written a poem with you, our hands covered in ink, and spread out a canvas to dance on, the night so lurid and pink.
but do not worry. we will not throw the party. we will just get you a ringlight and that crown i mentioned. it is a nice crown, except for where one of us dropped it.
the vote was a really hard one because we had so many cool ironic people to pick off the shelves. all of you have hands that rot fruit, how strange is that - you can't look at something without destroying it for other people. you like it when you can squeeze a person into a pinpoint - all us small ones scampering our little feet around our ugly joys. the vote was also a hard one because we kept our voices down because you don't like it when we talk too loud. you were on your phone at the time, talking to people other than us. you are a ghoul of every moment - half in, half out, you resent us for being here without shame or embarrassment.
so good news! we have invented an island for people like you. you get to go there and speak into the air things like if you still like watching harmless twitch streamers in 2023 you're fucking boring. you will say things like liveplay podcasts are fucking ugly and it's kind of awkward they try to make everything gay. on the island we made you, all of your words will have weight. they will form in the air like icicles, large white behemoth letters that will crumple in anvils around your feet. maybe we will send someone there once in a while to sweep, but honestly you might be there for a while, alone, waiting. we are busy being outside looking for mushrooms and flapping our hands and humming. we are busy kicking our little heels while we watch cringey tv. we are busy - sorry! as an apology, we have pre-filled the island with every bland, mediocre, unscented thing we could find. the island has the texture of american cheese. the island has an ocean that never gets angry. the island is perfect for you, trust me. you will be so happy there - as happy as you can be, ironically.
we want to say we are sorry for doing harmless things that you find annoying, childish, or unappealing - but we are not sorry. we thought we could help you, because we don't mind laughing at ourselves, but it turns out you are allergic to color and noise and atmosphere, so this is the best that we can do for now. we are all making a big shirt that says i voted in the ironic monarchy. we got you one that is just a fast fashion buttondown. i am so excited for you and this island and the big life you have won. you have a cool jaded grey life and miles of irony to roam. i love you! be well.
now leave us alone.
3K notes
·
View notes
Dragons Abroad - Aemond x lover!reader
Rating: Universal
Category: Angst
Pairing: Aemond x you
Set prior to Rook's Rest
Words: 1k
"There are dragons abroad."
You look at him. Across the table you sit from him and watch him. Around you, he is bare. No shirt, no breeches, no eye patch. Falsehoods gone, inhibitions left at the door. Yet his gaze avoids yours now. "So there are."
His voice is a quiet mumble. "I must go to meet them."
"I think that is not true," you reply. You look down at your hands and try not to pick at the skin around your fingers. Scabs make it sore already.
"I wish to meet them."
"That is true," comes your soft reply.
"And our time together is ended."
"Another falsehood." The words are confident, despite the ice in your chest. Frosted steel has pierced you between your ribs and into your very heart.
Aemond glances up. His fingers drum lightly on the wooden table. So many meals you shared with him here in the sanctity of his rooms. "I cannot take you with me."
"I never asked you to. I only ask that you come home to me."
"That, I cannot promise."
"Then promise what you can."
He opens his mouth to reply, but words fail him. He retreats into his comfortable silence. Prince Aemond leans into you when you stand and cradle him into you. He wraps his arm around your back and presses his face into your stomach as he sits in his chair and you stand at his side. The touch against his hair is welcomed, and he leans into your hand when you run it down his scarred cheek.
"I can promise nothing," he murmurs after a long time.
'You can promise to come home to me."
"I might not return. If I do, I do not know what will be left."
"I'll take whatever there is."
Aemond sighs your name and you go to pull away, but his strong arm around you does not loosen. And so you allow yourself to stroke his hair again. Part of him melts against you. The blade in your heart does not warm.
"I will destroy my enemies out there. I will paint the skies with fire and blood and-"
"That is all very noble," you interrupt softly. "But it will not make you whole."
You look down at him and see his face twitch. "I'm not a knight from one of your stories. I will not be the gallant hero you so desire."
It happens without you thinking, really. You sink to your knees in front of him. It would be folly to think it would make him smile this time, like it so often does. A place of worship before him. Now a place to beg. "I don't want a knight on his horse to come and save me. I just want you. As you are. Please."
"Do not beg."
"Please, Aemond, please don't make this the end, pl-"
"This is not becoming of a-"
"Please. Please, please." Your voice is steady but you can feel your throat beginning to close. "I am good for you."
And the fierce, stoic, hard Prince Aemond looks at you on your knees, utterly soft and warm, and his brow creases. "You are," he replies, oh so gently.
"I make you feel good."
He nods, head tilted to the side. "You do."
"I make you happy."
And he nods again. "I will not destroy you. I must leave you."
You lean up and try to kiss him, but he turns so you catch his cheek. It is only then that you realise your hands and his are grasped tightly. They have come out in a cold sweat. Strange, you think. He is never clammy.
You press your forehead to his temple. Some of your tears fall onto his pale cheek. "If you leave me, I will be destroyed. I can weather any storm but this."
You feel his jaw clench. A thousand words fall silent on his lips.
"Please."
Suddenly, his hands wrench from yours and then you feel them, strong and damp, on either side of your head. Your eyes open as he pulls you closer, closer, and you think yes! Yes, he understands! He will leave but come back to me! Yes-!
But your lips are not granted a kiss. Instead, a long kiss is pressed to your forehead. It is tight and hard and full of agony. It is farewell.
After it is ended, he has little left to say.
"I will wait for you, you know."
He watches while you move back to the other side of the table, while you smile sadly at him.
"If you want me to."
"I do not."
But his denial is not one that makes you sad. For anyone else, he might be cruel. But for you, he cannot bring himself to do that. There is only honesty between you, both kind and cutting.
"Do you wish to be with me?" you ask one final time.
Aemond cannot lie to you. Not after all the beauty you have shared, not after all the ways you have grown to know one another. Not after all the true and deep love between you. "I do," he says slowly. "More than almost anything."
"What do you wish for more than that?"
He sighs quietly. "To keep you safe."
"To force me to be free will not keep me safe from anything."
"It will" he insists gently. "You shall be safe from me."
Despite the agony in you, you can still force a smile. For him, always for him. "That is not safety. That is a fate worse than death."
"Worse than what I could be?"
"Worse than you could ever become. The worst you could be, Aemond, is gone."
154 notes
·
View notes
that jace kissing ask… teaching him how to kiss would be so sloppy and the sounds woww
you guys are FREAKS. TWO ASKS.
anyway i like to imagine he would only try to kiss you late into your friendship/courtship, having to reason to rush. He is not embarrassed of his inexperience he would rather be that than someone like aegon 💀 He would be eager to learn eager to please. He would ask you about it in the comfort of his own room, too embarrassed to bring up such a thing in a public space. He would simply let you guide him, reveling in the way your hands grip his face as you bring your lips to his. He fears he will never get enough, of the way you lightly murmur your thoughts or instructions against his lips, the lightness of your kiss changing into a faster more desperate one now that he has had a taste he cannot get enough. You certainly notice the bits of salvia that hang around your mouth, leaving a glossy look on not only your face but his. And the way he would be sounding? if someone were to walk by they would think something much more scandalous was happening thats all ill say.
141 notes
·
View notes