#did you know i really really like it when a guy is so misguided and mentally ill

[sxorpiomooon]

What does your younger self think about you? A pac reading

This reading scared the fucking shit out of me guys had to gather alot of courage to do it. Good luck

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Pile 1-

I think pile 1's younger self thinks that they have been indulging themselves in something too much for no reason? Like pile 1 has been too impatient. They might think that you might have started to focus too much on the appearance of things I especially see this for yourself too. This pile might be too focused on how they look overall and I see it causing them harm. "Only understanding the cost of things and not their value" is what I heard. This is so cute but I think pile 1's younger self likes how feminine they've become now? For some reason I had a vision of cinderalla. I think this pile's younger self is super excited about them being able to dress up nicely. I think the younger self also thinks that you guys have more resources than you did back then whether it's in the material sense or people but they're very happy with that. For some of you, if you are trying to get pregnant or alr have kids i see your pile being very very excited and happy about that too. The younger self also thinks that you guys tend to walk away from things too early? Oml pile 1 i hope y'all not gambling n shit😭 anyways they think that just when you are about to win, you decide to leave that thing behind. The main message I get is being patient with yourself also heard "my patience leads to perseverance"

Pile 2-

Your younger self is satisfied with how far you've come. Especially in the emotional sense they think that you have reached emotional stability and know your worth and it makes them happy. Also if you are someone who wins a lot of awards and has a pile of awards stacked up perhaps someone who's also athletic, your younger self is very proud. pile 2 has found themselves. I see that you might have had a lot of experiences helping you in gaining wisdom and whatever you needed to be at this level. Your younger self also loves how sensitive you are and how much in touch with your emotions you are. For some of you, i see that you've not turned out how you would've expected yourself to be(in a good way) so even your younger self is surprised. They love how much of a dreamer you are. However I think this pile has a lot of struggles or tests that life or fate puts them through. You might struggle a bit with authority and communication this I see happening bc of not proper communication I think your younger self wants you to have more clarity regarding that.

Pile 3-

Your younger self thinks that you've lost your way and your sight.

"If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you."

Is something that I heard immediately. Your younger self might think that you are very trapped and alone misguided in this world right now I keep hearing unreal monsters lure for some reason? Your younger self might also think that you have been lied to or taken advantage of by people? However, your younger self also thinks that alot of things are going wrong simply because you are trying to find your way and as long as you make sure to balance everything especially your priority and as I heard "the life that you want" it will all be ok

Pile 4-

Your younger self wants you to live your life and indulge into things and whatever that you like but they also want you to take a few minutes to see the bigger picture of it every time before you make a decision or do something. "Does it really serve me?" Is something that I keep hearing. Having pleasure and fun is nice but it also must be done to a limit. Me and the devil keep playing in my head and I keep hearing ego. Some of you have to keep your ego in check. Brat keeps playing in my head and I'm seeing a dj party for some reason. Your younger self also thinks that either you alr have or you are going to start a new beginning very soon and they seem excited for that bc that might be the path you are meant to follow. They want you to take the leap of faith and have courage in yourself. They also want you to always keep learning and defend yourself when needed

[masonmount-vii]

It'll Make Sense One Day

Part One

april fifteenth

It's wedding season.

Y/N turns the blush pink envelope over and over in her hands, debating on whether or not to open.

Miss Y/N L/N is written in pretty, loopy cursive on the front, followed by your address. There's no return address, but you'd recognise your best friend's hand writing.

You already knows what it is.

"There's going to be a surprise from Scott and I in the post next week!" You remembered your best friend, Rachel chirping over the phone last week. "Oh silly me! I shouldn't have said that, because now you probably know what it is! Pretend i never told you!"

You, however, don't know why you are hesitant on opening the envelope.

Probably because then you'll have to acknowledge that all of your friends are getting married despite that you're still single, a voice that sounds suspiciously like your older sisters shrills.

You tear open the envelope and pull out the card inside. It isn't a card. necessarily, not one that opens or closes, like it would for a birthday.

Save The Date.

The glossy postcard-sized announcement reads in white script. Below is a picture of your best friend, Rachel, and her fiancé, Scott, on a mountain somewhere, a large expanse of valleys and sky behind them as they laugh. There's a rather large diamond ring on Rachel’s finger; you can't see it, you know it's there.

Rachel + Scott: 15/08/2024, the rest of the card says, and you take a moment to take it to the front of your fridge using a magnet to stick it on.

It's not like you are going to forget about this wedding; it's all Rachel has been talking about for the past month, ever since Scott proposed. At first, you had been enthusiastic; getting married is a big, exciting step, and you were genuinely excited for your girl.

But the more Rachel goes on about this wedding, the less you find yourself wanting to go. You know that all of your happily married friends are going to be there, and you're still single, have been for longer than you'd like to admit.

You wonder if you'll have to bring a plus one. If you do, It's not like you have anyone to bring.

Is there some sort of website people can use for this? Like a dating website, but for people who need plus one's for weddings?

You find yourself googling it and aren't too heartbroken when such a thing doesn't exist.

You'd known it would've been a long shot anyways.

Later on in the afternoon, you're making yourself dinner when your phone rings. You put it on speaker as you stir the pasta for your dinner.

"Hello?"

"Did you get our Save The Dates?" Rachel asks, straight to the point, her voice loud and excited on the other end.

You dare to laugh, despite feeling like that's the absolute last thing you want to be doing right now. "Yeah, I did. They're very cutesy. How does Scott feel about them?"

"Oh, I don't think he really cares. He just said that they could look like however I wanted to design them, as long as our families got them."

Does he care about anything when it comes to the wedding? You think, but there's no way in hell you'd ever say that.

"Do i need to bring a plus one?"

"You don't have to, but it would be nice. In fact, do you want me to set you up with a few guys in the months leading up to the wedding? That could be fun!"

"I'll pass," You tell her with a laugh.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Rachel is her best friend, but before she met Scott, she was a little misguided when it comes to guys, and dating.

Not only when it came to guys, you think, but when it came to setting you up with guys, as well.

There was this one guy that Rachel set you up in our first year of university. His name was Nick and he refused to pay for your dinner in addition to his, so he basically expected you to pay for both of your dinners but you put your foot down and made a deal on paying for our own dinner. And to top it off he wouldn't even give you a ride home, so you had to call Rachel to come pick you up.

"Well, if you want to bring someone, you certainly can, Y/N," the future Mrs Hamilton is saying, and you don't know if that's a suggestion or something she's going to keep bringing up in future conversations.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes even though Rachel can't see you so it wouldn't be a big deal.

"The wedding isn't for another four months," you are gently reminded at the end of the phone call, so you know you have time to find a plus one.

It's just a matter of how.

And then, you get an idea.

-

The next morning you are woken up by your phone going off.

It's the kind of wake-up when you hear a noise and it's just the right volume to startle you awake, which you don't like.

You had forgotten to shut off your ringer last night, and the single ping must've been what woke you up.

TINDER: you have a message from Alex! the screen notifies you as you glance at it.

Who sends a message at seven in the morning? you speculate after seeing the time, and then you had pick up your phone anyway to see what Alex had said.

You had created a profile shortly before you fell asleep, in a stroke of genius so rare that you don't know where it came from or if it'll happen again. You had found four of your best pictures, typed out a relatively short bio (purposefully leaving out the reason why you had made the account in the first place: you didn't want people to think you were too weird), and then ser out to start swiping on guys.

Alex was 27 and he was the first guy you had matched with, except you couldn't figure out what to say.

Do you lead with the whole 'i need a date to best friends wedding so that all of my non-single friends could get off my back', or would that scare him off?

So, you decided to not say anything about it. While you weren't sure if he was the one, you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable. Alex was average looking, with chesnut coloured hair that stuck straight up and he had dark brown eyes.

You know that you aren't looking for love, as most of the people on her are (well, not real love anyway). A fake boyfriend perhaps?

The point being, you didn't want to get too attached, because you aren't expecting anything.

Your eyes skim to Alex's message, and you try to decide if it deserves a reply.

I think your eyes are really pretty.

That's it? you think glumly. You'd always been a hopeless romantic, someone who believes in love at first sight (or, in this case, love at first swipe) and you feel somewhat let down when average Alex sends you an average message.

Then again, what did you expect, in all honesty? The perfect guy to send you the perfect message on the first try?

That's not likely to happen.

Thank you! You reply, and then you slightly regret it, because even though Rachel's wedding isn't until August, you really don't have time to waste, and you aren't sure that you want him to be your date.

Just give him a chance, Y/N. You're not agreeing to anything.

Plus, there's a small part of you that hopes you'll find something other than just a plus one to this wedding.

The next message Alex sends you is two days later, as you're sitting at your desk at work.

It's shortly after nine in the morning, and you're working on next weeks article for the fashion blog that you work for.

You forget about it until an hour and a half later when you're having your break.

Y/N, huh? Is that short for something? the message reads.

You laugh at first but then you stop when you realise that average Alex is serious, which prompts you to type back a no, Y/N isn't short for anything, only then wondering if you had been too harsh as you press end.

You spend the rest of your lunch break swiping on a few guys; it takes you a while to decide whether or not you'll swipe on them in the first place, because in order for this fake plus one thing to work, it has to be believable.

You aren't yet sure if you want Rachel to know that the way you are going to find a date to the wedding is through Tinder.

None of the guys that you swipe on match with you, but when you check your phone later that evening, you see that a few of them swiped right in the hours that you weren't looking at your phone.

One of them may even be the one you end up taking to the wedding, but neither of them know that yet.

-

Thank you so much for reading, I’m hoping you’ll continue to stick around 💓 next part will be 28/08/2024!

[theoneandonlycoralinejones]

Some General Ericson's Kids Headcannons

Louis

Despite it being the zombie apocalypse, he still takes a great care in his appearance. Maybe this could be tied back to his insecurities, but he generally just finds comfort in looking nice. He kept a few colognes from before, and maybe even still has a few hair products. Of course he’d had to be resourceful to make them last this long, probably pours water into the almost empty cologne bottles to make them last longer. He also just dislikes being dirty in general, always wiping down his clothes and typically taking breaks to freshen up. 

He wants to keep the artistic spirit alive, even in the apocalypse, and he really admires people who feel the same. Everyone knows he loves piano, but when somebody actually shows interest in it he can't help but get giddy. He can ramble about musicians and songs for hours and hours and hours, and if you ever found him some new records or sheet music you'd officially be his new favorite person; ever.

Definitely was an only child; his parents put all of their focus on him, watched his every move. He was expected to get good grades, go to a good college, get a hard well-paying job afterwards. He was definitely spoiled money-wise, but his family lacked in the love and affection department. 

Violet

I’d like to think that if she ever got the chance to, she’d try to give herself a piercing. Obviously it’d be unsanitary and sort of implausible during the apocalypse, but if you think about it, all she’d need would be a needle, the piercing itself, and some sort of disinfectant, so it could possibly happen. If she did get one, probably an eyebrow piercing or a septum. She definitely isn’t the type to care too much about her appearance, but she would feel super cool having a piercing. (She wouldn’t say it though, lol)

Violet lacked any sort of hobby in the game, and this upset me. (Ruby has gardening/being a nurse, Louis has music, Tenn has art, Mitch has weapons, Omar has cooking, Aasim has writing, etc.) I feel like if she had a hobby it'd be something she'd do in secret, maybe poetry or writing songs. She definitely is the type of person to bottle her emotions up, so writing poems about it would definitely be a nice way to cope with them. She’d never share her poetry with anyone though, it's just her thing; she's way too embarrassed of it. 

If she was able to listen to any music she would definitely like indie or punk music. (Pavement, she would LOVE pavement) She’s definitely the type of person to crush on more alternative people, so I could see her trying to get into goth music just to impress a girl she likes. 

Marlon

It's obvious that he's definitely got some hefty mental issues going on, he's the type of person to bottle things up forever till he just blows up. He panics a lot in tough situations, scrambles to fix things himself, but has a hard time making things work out alone. I'd imagine his parents were probably perfectionists of some sort; who pushed a lifestyle he didn't want onto him and he tried hard to succeed for them but could never be enough. Eventually one day he acted out, sick of being forced to live a life he didn't want to live, and then was sent to Ericsons's.

A lot of people hate Marlon, for reasons that are obvious, but I really don't think he was a bad guy. He was simply misguided, and made mistakes. 

Seems like the type to smoke or drink as a way to cope. Did it more often before the apocalypse and when it first started but cigarettes and alcohol are pretty much nonexistent near Ericson’s now so he was forced to quit. 

Mitch

I see many people sort of stereotype Mitch as just this guy who likes carving knives and making bombs, which definitely is true, but I think there’s much more to him. He has a very rebellious personality which leads me to believe he probably grew up in a home where being rebellious was necessary to get any attention from his neglectful parents. They are in the boarding school for a reason, so he probably was the type of kid that almost burnt down his house or something.

Definitely seems like the type to be a big softie once you get to know him. Certainly not the type to be all soft in public, but if you're spending time one on one his more gentle side will show. 

Ruby 

She has such a motherly vibe to her, so caring and sweet. Even hands out some tough love when needed. I think that's one of the reasons why she likes the greenhouse so much, she loves to take care of things; plants included. (Obviously she also liked it because of Ms. Martin, but yk)

She's certainly not the type to accept compliments easily, she just can't imagine that when people compliment her they're telling the truth. I'd imagine that the reason she punches Aasim If you dare him to kiss her is because she thinks he's playing a prank on her or something; she just finds it hard to believe that somebody would like her. (I love her, Ruby is my bae omg)

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hi darling!~ (I'll immediately stop calling you that if you don't like it/don't feel comfortable lol) Lately your girlies been obsessing over the song 'Older' by Isabel LaRosa that's been going BADSHIT popular on tiktok so I thought I'd spill some thoughts~

Teacher!Vil X Yandere(ish)!Student!Yuu

Summary : Yuu who grew up with a bad father and gained heavy daddy issues gets attached to her teacher after he starts giving her the fatherly love and care she never got, always being nice and checking up on her. at first it's a simple silly crush on her teacher but after time it blooms into an obsession where she starts lusting after him and craves constant validation from him. In her eyes he's the perfect guy, he's older and has more experience, he could never treat her wrong. even though he may be colder from time to time she believes he has a soft spot for her. Poor Yuu when the teacher who she fell so madly inlove with doesn't return her feelings and begins distancing himself from her.... Or will he?..

(Your ending <3)

Surprise me sweetheart ♡

-Prev. 🥀🦋 / Now 🎋🪭

I really like that song, might become my newest obsession... 🖤🖤🖤🖤

Yandere Teacher Vil Schoenheit x Obsessed Student Reader 

Vil definitely has that aura of an unbiased but caring mentor much like Crewel. He’s confident and quaint, praising you in any capacity thrills most who receive it. Granted it’s sprinkled with underlying insults and a general lack of faith. But for someone like you, who can barely get your own father to even look at you it means so much more:

So of course you’ll obsess over him 

Putting him on a pedestal you’re willing to do anything for 

Study and pass his class

Tell on all the naughty potatoes in class

Even framing the professor he’s wanted gone since the beginning

“Well done.”

“R-really?”

“Yes, I’m quite pleased you’ve proven to be more helpful than the other useless potatoes.”

“T-thank you M-Mister Vil!”

He doesn’t stop you or even act like he doesn’t reciprocate

A few light touches

A kiss or two

A nibble of the ear

Your friends warn you  when they realize the love of your life is the degrading teacher of etiquette 

“This isn’t a good idea…(Y/n) he’s like much older than you.”

“So? That just means he has experience!”

“He’s thinking about retirement!”

“Early retirement!”

“Nooo!”

Nothing really stops you from your newfound love 

That is until he crashes the illusion himself 

“Oh~Roi du Poison, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for the misguided doe?”

“Please, they’re just a tool I’m sharpening. A potato I’ve decided is worth polishing…for the time being.”

It destroys you

What meaning of life is there if he doesn’t even care about yours

You stop showing up to school

You won’t leave your room

“Where is (L/n)?”

“Pft wouldn’t you like to know!”

“We’re not telling you. You don’t deserve to even speak to them.”

“Fine if that’s how it’s going to be, I’ll give your regards to them.”

“What?!” “Wait!” 

Unbeknownst to you Vil is very much in love with you 

But what did you expect?!

That he’d admit to actually being just as obsessed if not more so than you

He figured the best way to keep you close enough was by taking advantage of your emotional flaw

And while he wasn’t wrong, 

he realized the way it’s been going is all too risky

Nosy obstacles friends of yours, suspicious coworkers, gossiping potatoes

It’s just too risky so he’ll promptly resign putting time and energy into his former hobby

Taking the world by storm he’ll disappear

Giving you the so-called space you want so badly

But he’ll be watching

Watching as you mend yourself together only to fall apart again with every new tragedy

Your grades suspiciously slip

Your house is going to be foreclosed

Your father disappears one evening becoming a missing person’s case

And finally, your dear poor friends suddenly die

Catching some sickness after investigating something they refused to tell you about in  the forest

It’s there, where you’ve graduated and are at your lowest once again that he makes his move

“It’s been a while, (L/n).”

He’ll skew the events that day claiming the doe was someone else or that it was all a cover

And like that, he’ll slither back into your heart with his leash fully keeping you within his grasp

“For all that trouble, (Y/n) you’re irrevocably mine.”

[aerithisms]

i think my problem with this dw season arc accusing the audience of fanbrain for theorising about ruby is that it both feels deceitful and isn't actually that compelling from a character perspective. the season goes out of its way to build up supernatural mystery around ruby and even invokes susan more heavily than ever before in a way that is deliberately trying to get the audience to make those connections. and then it turns around and says you stupid idiot why would you ever try to connect these dots i have deliberately tried to get you to connect.

building up a mystery only for the character to be ordinary is an impossible girl arc redux only this time accusing the viewer of failing to see the humanity of the companion, whereas the impossible girl arc was turning that accusation on the doctor. 7b didn't really blame the audience for viewing clara as a puzzle and in fact several times spells out the fact that clara is perfectly ordinary before the big reveal to give the audience a chance to catch on. as 7b goes on, instead of laying the mystery on thicker, the audience just gets more and more affirmations that clara is a normal human being (rings of akhaten, journey to the centre of the tardis, hide). i found this approach compelling because it was rooted in character, focusing on the doctor's disconnection from humanity/the gendered dynamic of a man treating a woman as his manic pixie mystery to pull him out of grief. s14's meta approach of accusing the viewer feels both unfair, given it has deliberately led the viewer towards theorising, and personally less compelling to me because it wasn't tied into character in any way.

the thing about rey's parentage in tlj is that the reason rian johnson chose to go for that reveal was that it was the only answer that was interesting. none of the theories - rey is a skywalker, rey is a kenobi, and even the eventually canonical rey is a palpatine - were interesting or satisfying because they brought nothing compelling to the table for the story being told. the only satisfaction to be gained from those answers was a fanbrained "omg rey is important because she's related to that guy from the other movie." on top of that, rey desperately wants her parents to have been important, to give her life and her abandonment some kind of significance. so them being ordinary provided the most compelling trajectory for her character because it was the thing she least wanted to hear. it forced her to do the most introspection and growth, as well as tying into the film's themes about the capacity of ordinary people to be special. it wasn't just a choice made to "gotcha" the viewer, it was rooted in character.

i don't think ruby's mother being ordinary accomplishes the same thing. by invoking susan, s14 is engaging with the most egregious example of the doctor's streak of abandonment, which has potential to be very compelling in relation to ruby (and now also the doctor's) own abandonment issues. theories that ruby might be susan, or be somehow related to susan, or somehow related to the doctor, weren't just fanbrained "omg she's related to that guy i know from the classic series." they were theories genuinely rooted in character and the potential to explore both the doctor and ruby's issues with abandonment. and this is something the show willingly led fans towards by invoking susan so much in the first place. so for the show to turn around and act like they were shallow out of nowhere ideas when they were not shallow and were based on potential character conflicts the show itself deliberately invoked, feels misguided.

as well as that, ruby's mother being ordinary does not require that same growth from ruby as it did for rey because it is exactly what ruby wanted to hear. she never wanted her mother to be important, she just wanted to know who her mother was and have a connection with her. so finding out she was a normal woman who still loves her and wants to be a part of her life is everything she's ever wanted. it doesn't introduce interesting conflict for her the way rey's parents being ordinary did for her, because they were written as different characters with different hangups over their abandonment.

tl;dr i don't necessarily dislike ruby's mother being ordinary as an idea but compared to the things it was inspired by - 7b and star wars - it is not nearly as compelling in terms of how it relates to the characters or themes. and the meta angle, while conceptually interesting, doesn't quite work for me because it feels a little manipulative of the audience.

[sepublic]

People -and this did include myself at one point- really don't want to engage with the fact that Belos is modeled after white supremacy by trying to bury this under the lens of "Oh he's actually a lonely weirdo like Luz!!!" when Belos' superiority complex is the most important part of him and it's where all analyses inevitably must stem from. I think the problem is that people are too attached to their speculative fanon version of Belos and instead of letting go of that to rebuild their understanding of him from the ground up (since he's a mysterious character who is only gradually revealed bit by bit), they keep clinging to this sympathetic tragic villain as the core behind their interpretation of him. 

Everything about Belos makes so much more sense when you explore him as someone akin to a lot of right-wing 4channers; A lonely young boy who was radicalized because white supremacy promised to rescue him from his isolation, and after buying into it wholesale, he very much chose to cling onto the need to be superior to the "NPCs" even when someone close to him actually unlearns and deconstructs for him why this is harmful. He sees firsthand how someone just like him is happier for leaving this mindset, and then kills them to eliminate that contradiction threatening his world belief; At which point it’s inaccurate to infantilize him as just a lonely and misguided kid, because he’s no longer a kid and he made a very cognizant and informed choice to double down and commit actual violence.

And everyone knows that by this point, such people are not actually being sincere; They’re not secretly misguided, you can’t simply attribute their harm to not knowing better because this is what their religion says or whatever. These people know they’re committing harm, but rather than help on “lesser” people’s terms, they ‘help’ the way THEY see fit, in the way that strokes their ego. That’s what separates Philip from someone like Gwen, who humbled herself to focus on what Eda was saying she really needed. So the Titan’s summarization of Belos as someone who only cares about being the hero in his own delusion, and fears what he can’t control is… hardly an oversimplification, it really gets to the core of Belos as a character, and the narrative he embodies. It captures the difference between wanting to help and having a savior complex, and is what ends up delineating the two at the crucial crossroads. 

And I find it a little concerning to joke about how this type of character is “just a silly guy” when people exactly like him are on the rise and committing very real violence right now. It’s also why I don’t buy the justification behind a lot of salt about how villains need to be humanized in order to show kids how THEY can become villains, because the show is fairly outright about how Belos rationalizes atrocities under the guise of the ‘greater good’ and refuses to self-reflect, and it’s not as if we don’t have Luz learning to understand characters like Amity or Lilith, the Collector and even Kikimora (whom she DID relate to personally, yet Kiki still doubled down with or without Belos), while still having the show emphasize that they need to get their act together and can’t just depend on people to save them. 

There’s also the very obvious theme of Luz realizing she doesn’t owe her oppressor anything, especially not when he won’t ever meet her or anyone else on their terms, but idk some people just seem to hate Luz for having boundaries I guess, even though she already put in the effort to be kind and understanding to Belos and she got hurt for it. Hell the Collector made that effort after being inspired by Luz, and Luz was murdered protecting them from that mistake!!! There are some very obvious stories and lessons being told here with the actual protagonists being the heart of those narratives, but the problem I’ve noticed is that a lot of the people complaining on Belos’ behalf are those who hyperfixated almost exclusively on the Wittebane aspect of the lore, going over it with a fine tooth comb and microscope to extrapolate an entire fanon from the littlest of details… only to just ignore the actual show and narrative and themes happening on-screen. 

And that leads to many not understanding various narrative decisions because they weren’t really paying attention to the actual point they’re in service to, and then they blame the writers for their own chosen ignorance, and how the story wasn’t about their part specifically so everything else doesn’t count and the whole show is wasted potential, really. The way so many of said fans immediately turned on Luz after the finale and tried to drag her down to Belos’ level by acting like she wasn’t any better for also wanting things and 'demonizing enemies', claiming Luz had unaddressed ‘flaws’ while Belos deserved more sympathy, and framing Belos as a ‘better’ character who ‘worked harder’ while claiming Luz was retconned into an arrogant chosen one who never grew, is actually baffling.

A lot of them are just upset that Belos didn’t play the role in Luz’s arc that they wanted him to play, so they’ve opted to dismiss Luz’s overall storyline as badly written and even a reflection of Dana's 'Catholic complex' (which is a tasteless jab to make) because they neglected the nuance behind every other aspect of Luz that wasn’t directly tied to Belos, that didn’t set her up as the one person who understands him or whatever because that’s more important to them than addressing the sheer trauma and pain that Belos willingly inflicted upon Luz. Because god forbid this brown girl be angry against her white abuser, huh? God forbid the white guy be used to set up the brown main character, rather than the other way around right????? It’s really just a jealous complaint about the show’s choice of priorities and celebration, hidden under the false guise of ever caring about Luz’s arc for Luz’s sake.

And that’s how you get insincere arguments about how Belos should’ve been able to survive, that’s how you get AUs that undermine the lessons of canon to egregiously relegate Luz to being Belos’ sidekick, or even present her as an obstacle to him getting his much-needed redemption, as if that last part hinges on all of Belos’ victims getting over their pain to help him, because obviously he needs it more than they do! Because we gotta spare Belos’ feelings by giving him friends instead of consequences!!! Unbelievable. He is not Amity, not Lilith, and definitely not Hunter, and the people who forgave them had actual reason to do so. And even Lilith had to move in with her mother so she could be given reparations by someone who actually owed it to her, rather than her younger sister and two kids.

And there’s definitely a major difference between Lilith and Gwen’s dynamic and Philip and Caleb’s, especially since Caleb was also a child when he moved into Gravesfield. Even if you think Belos' bigotry was radicalized due to 'grief' over losing his brother to witches, that's just entitlement and control because it's not as if Caleb can't have more than one positive relationship in his life; Philip is no better than people who blame minorities for some incident in their life and use that as justification to become white supremacists, and there's nothing sympathetic or 'tragic' about that.

But the point is that Caleb ultimately wasn’t THAT important to Belos because he’d always be secondary to witch-hunting, Belos clearly chose his white supremacy over his brother, and any ‘takebacks’ that come in the form of the Grimwalkers are insincere given Belos does nothing to actually repent or regret his violence committed on the people of the isles; It’d have been one thing if he DID try to undo his mistake by choosing differently, by cloning Caleb and giving up witch hunting, but he still doesn’t (Note that Belos does not hallucinate the ghosts of the witches he killed; He still feels no remorse over them, because his fear of being wrong comes from a selfish place). And unlike Luz, Belos can’t have it both ways because one option explicitly calls for the extermination of the other; It’s the Paradox of Tolerance that Luz struggled with, except contrary to what Belos claims, humanity’s existence does not require the eradication of others.

Because yes there IS a meaningful moral distinction between Luz and Belos -don’t forget they’re not just parallels but explicit opposites- that occurs even before you get into the genocide, not that you should neglect that other part either because it’s incredibly important, being the starting point for this entire rant. Society already has a bias towards devil’s advocating bigotry as some big misunderstanding, and prioritizing the angst of white dudes who commit it over the victims of color; Can we avoid applying that to fiction?!??!? I literally saw someone complain that the show didn’t portray Belos’ grief from murdering Luz, and that Luz’s “glory moment” took away from a Wittebane backstory!!! At this point, people are just being racist.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Comet Donati [Chapter 10: Through The Dark] [Series Finale]

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (+18), drugs, alcohol, smoking, mental health struggles, pregnancy, bodily injury, death, miscarriage, AND NO OTHER CLUES, HAPPY READING!!! 🥰

Selected Chapter Quote: “What made you want to be a therapist?”

Word count: 6.4k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @doingfondue @catalina-howard @randomdragonfires @myspotofcraziness @arcielee @fan-goddess @talesofoldandnew @marvelescvpe @tinykryptonitewerewolf @mariahossain @chainsawsangel @darkenchantress @not-a-glad-gladiator @gemini-mama @trifoliumviridi @herfantasyworldd @babyblue711 @namelesslosers @thelittleswanao3 @daenysx @moonlightfoxx @libroparaiso @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @mizfortuna @florent1s @heimtathurs @bhanclegane @poohxlove @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @heavenly1927 @echos-muses @padfooteyes @minttea07 @queenofshinigamis @juliavilu1 @amiraisgoingthruit @lauraneedstochill @wintrr13 @r0segard3n @seabasscevans @tsujifreya @helaenaluvr @hiraethrhapsody

Thank you for loving the insane and incomparable Comet fam. I hope you enjoy the series finale. 💜

Night sky, string lights, reverberating bass, warm wet verdant air like the earth the dinosaurs knew, swampy and thick with beasts. With his lazy, dreamlike smile—a kind contagious glow, pink sunburned cheeks that match the clinking Salty Dog in his hand—Aegon says: “What made you want to be a therapist?”

You won’t tell him the whole truth. But you’ll tell him part of it. “Sigmund Freud.”

Aegon is intrigued, raised eyebrows and a crooked grin. “The guy who thinks everyone wants to fuck their mom?”

“You would have liked him. He did a lot of coke.” You take a swig of your Salty Dog: rosemary, grapefruit, the singeing bite of gin. “He was the founder of talk therapy. And, yeah, some of the things he wanted to talk about were…unorthodox. Misguided. But still…”

“He just wanted to talk,” Aegon says softly, understanding now.

“This was the turn of the century, okay? This was back in the days when they were pulling people’s teeth out, locking them up in asylums, injecting them with diseases, cutting off parts of women that made them unruly, ungovernable, immoral.” You shudder. “And Freud said no, just talk to them. Just figure out what demons they have chained up in their skulls, dark dusty corners buried way down deep, and help them figure out how to move forward. It’s not about having a cure, a pill or a scalpel. I mean, how ludicrous would that be, thinking I was walking around with some failproof silver bullet to make all the pain of existence vanish? That’s insane. It’s about listening to people, and caring about people, and shining a light on what part of them already knew was there. I don’t have a cure for anybody. Not a single goddamn person on this planet. But I can help them find their own.”

Aegon watches you, contemplates you, studies you like something rare and fleeting. “You are going to be one hell of a therapist.”

“I don’t know about that. But I hope so.”

“I’ll find you. Maybe when you’re done with school you can work on me. I’d keep you busy, I guarantee it. I’m like Disney’s Haunted Mansion. Ghosts everywhere you look.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You are never going to remember me.” He is never going to remember this place, this time, the way he shared his light with me like a long-lost comet clipping by Earth.

“I might,” Aegon says. He sips his Salty Dog with his elbows propped on the table, his blond hair whipping in the indigo wind, grains of salt on his lips, reflections of string lights like stars in his eyes. “I really think I might.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Your arms thrown around his neck, your face buried in his black t-shirt, inhaling smoke and dust and the coppery sharpness of his spilled blood. You are sobbing uncontrollably, gasping, shivering, wild prideless tears and clawing fingers. Jace’s words circle in your skull like a moon around its planet: Nobody escapes the indignity of becoming a regret. Aemond is trying to calm you, to quiet you. His hands—large and dangerous and bloodstained and careful—are on your back, in your hair. You have to explain, to repent. You have to make him understand.

“I didn’t get pregnant on purpose,” you moan into him, a jagged rush like a hemorrhage. “I swear to God I didn’t. I wouldn’t do that to you. I wasn’t trying to trap you or fix you or use you. I’m in love with you, Aemond, I wanted you, and I still want you, and I thought you would hate me and I was terrified and I didn’t know how to tell you—”

“I don’t hate you, I could never hate you,” he’s saying, and more that you can’t catch; his words are a tide, flowing in and fading out. Now there is pain, deep and sharp and collapsing. Aegon is standing a few yards away, tears flooding down his sunburned face; they clear tracks in the dust that coats him, that coats everyone, that sticks to the blood on your legs. Cregan has pushed the others back, but still, you can hear their incorporeal voices: Jace asking what’s going on, Rhaena explaining, Baela shrieking, Criston shouting orders. Now Aegon has a rough hand on Aemond’s shoulder and is telling him something—insisting upon something—but you don’t know what. Language escapes you; language abandons you.

There are sirens and flashing lights the color of rubies, roses, tangled arteries. Aemond scoops you up and carries you towards them. There is only enough room for one person to ride in the ambulance with you; there is no discussion of who it will be. The rest of Comet has to wait for the Escalades to arrive at your parents’ farm. You do not try to steal a glimpse of the damage, felled trees and scattered fence posts, dead cattle and pillaged earth. You are filled with enough wreckage already; you are built of it, bones made out of bent nails, nerves of barbed wire.

Needles into your arms, chemicals into your bloodstream: something that deadens the pain and muddies your thoughts, makes them slow and heavy and unpanicked, like you are watching this happen to somebody else. In an exam room, nurses strip your clothes away and wipe the red from your skin, routinely, absentmindedly, as if it is of no consequence, as if the future you had taken for granted has not just been drowned, immolated, eradicated from existence like a dying star. They give you underwear fitted with a bulky postpartum pad—the same used by mothers of living children—and a hospital gown that Aemond marks with bloody fingerprints when he touches you. Then the nurses leave you to wait for the doctor with your IVs and your fogbank mind and your glazed eyes that stare blankly at the sterile white walls.

Aemond is smoothing back your hair from your face, and you are reminded of how he held Aegon when he was dying on your bedroom floor in the MGM Grand. You remember once thinking that Aemond is like storms and rogue waves, and that’s true; he turns lethal and then goes kind again, strikes and then soothes. He says once you are alone, each word painstakingly chosen: “I’m sorry that because of how I’ve acted, you felt you couldn’t tell me.”

“I’m sorry I lost the baby.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I must have. I’m bleeding too much.” You can feel it, blood and clots that ooze, gush, drain away leaving you cold and hollow.

The exam room door opens, not a nurse or a doctor but a man in khaki cargo shorts and a filthy neon green tank top and matching Crocs, clop clop clop. “Hey, Stargirl,” Aegon says, sad and gentle. He holds up a venti-sized plastic cup. “I brought you a Double Chocolatey Chip Frappuccino.”

You blink groggily, not knowing what to do with it. Aegon puts the clear cup in your hands, the green straw between your lips. It’s sugary, cold, rich, topped with a swirl of whipped cream and chocolate syrup. It brings you back a little bit, a few unsteady steps towards the real world.

“Where the fuck is the doctor?” Aemond asks him.

“The nurse said she’s on her way. They’re understaffed.” Aegon shrugs apologetically: Missouri bullshit.

“You get somebody in here, right now.”

“What do you want me to do, threaten to stab medical professionals?! How about you punch some of their teeth out, I bet that would help.” Then Aegon sighs shakily and covers his own face with his hands. “It wasn’t…it wasn’t mine, you know?” Wasn’t, isn’t, will never be. “We haven’t…not since…it’s not…” He looks at Aemond with large, shining, ocean-blue eyes. “It’s not possible. You have to know that. You can’t be the way that you are sometimes. You don’t get a few weeks to come around to doing the decent thing. You have to believe her.”

And Aemond says softly: “I do.”

The door opens again and a doctor steps through it, mid-forties, thick black-rimmed glasses, dark hair secured in a businesslike low bun. Aegon ducks out of the room; the doctor gives him a brief quizzical glance before introducing herself to you. You can’t seem to latch onto her name. You answer the questions she asks you as she readies the ultrasound machine: ten weeks along, blunt force trauma to your back, where and how it hurt before the pain was drugged out of you. She unfastens a tie on the side of your hospital gown and opens it just enough to spread the cool gel across your belly and then glide the transducer through it. She peers at the grainy screen. She’s checking for a heartbeat; she’s checking to see if you’ll need a D&C to help expel a partial miscarriage so you don’t go septic.

“I lost it,” you sob, breaking down again. “Aemond, I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t. Please don’t.” He kisses your temple and then rests his forehead against yours, tears glittering in his river-clear right eye.

“Well,” the doctor says with practiced, vaguely sympathetic composure. “You lost one of them.”

You look to her, not understanding. “One of…?”

She angles the monitor so you and Aemond can see. “Fraternal twins often have separate amniotic sacs and placentas. So depending on the positioning of the fetuses, it is possible to miscarry one but not the other. This one on the left here…” She indicates it with her index finger. “It’s…it’s no longer viable, unfortunately. You’ve already passed most of it. But this one on the right…” She squints at the screen, repositioning the transducer. “From what I can tell, it seems to be holding on. Let me see if I can…” She moves the transducer around, pressing it into the yielding flesh of your belly. And then you hear it: a fierce defiant drumming, a whistling like wind through leaves. “I thought so,” the doctor pronounces, smiling. “There’s the heartbeat. The pulse is approximately 155 beats per minute, which is typical.”

One of them? I didn’t lose one of them? “Aemond…?”

When you turn back to him, he’s staring at the flickering black-and-white whirls of bones and blood flow on the ultrasound screen. And the expression on his face is one that you’ve never seen from him before, serene like when he’s with animals, awed like when he studies the galaxy, and something else too, a great shifting, a clicking into place, tectonic plates and ocean currents and storm clouds unraveling into clear skies. “It’s alright?” he says, not taking his eye from the screen.

“It is,” the doctor confirms. “Measuring a little bit small for ten weeks, but that’s to be expected for a twin. I don’t think you’ll be able to tell the sex for another month, but it’s alive and well.” She freezes the image on the screen, sets the transducer aside, and cleans the gel from your belly. “Based on my experience, in cases like this, I’d say there’s a better than 50/50 chance the surviving fetus can be carried to term.”

You say: “What can I do…? I mean…there must be something I can do to help it…to help it live…”

“We’ll give you medication to stop any residual uterine contractions and antibiotics to prevent infection. I’d like to admit you for observation, just for a day or two. And I would recommend bed rest for several weeks. Until you’ve reached your second trimester, at least.”

“Yes. Anything. I’ll do anything.”

“And sir, you’re…” The doctor peers at Aemond through her glasses, really scrutinizing him for the first time, his brutal scar and his blind left eye and his stillness and his wonder. “You’re the father?”

Aemond nods, still gazing at the screen like a constellation in the night sky, like a comet only glimpsed once in a lifetime. “I am.”

The doctor beams. “Congratulations,” she tells both of you. And then she leaves to arrange for you to be admitted to the hospital.

“I’ll stay,” Aemond says. “When the band flies to New Orleans tomorrow, I’ll stay here with you.”

“No, Aemond.”

“I’m staying. I’m not going to leave you. You need me, the baby needs me.”

“No,” you say again. “What we have now is wrong. It’s painful and volatile and doomed.” You lay your palm against his scarred face, and he doesn’t finch away. “You have to figure out who you are after Comet. And so do I.” Tears in your eyes, tears on your cheeks; but on your lips is a soft, patient smile. “Aemond, I don’t want me and the baby to be a distraction from the work that you still desperately need to do. I don’t want to be a temporary fix. I don’t want to be your life raft. I want to be…if I’m going to be anything to you…” Your thumbprint ghosts across his cheekbone, tender, reverent. “I want to be your home.”

He shakes his head, but he doesn’t speak; drops like rain spill down his right cheek, dyed pink by blood from the fresh lacerations that riddle him, new scars and ancient pain.

“What are you thinking?” you say.

“I’m thinking that you’re right. I fucking hate it, but you are.” He swipes away tears with one bloodstained hand, then he settles it on your not-yet-showing belly, a place of ruin, a place of hope. “When can I come back?”

“When you’re ready. And only you’ll know when that is.”

The exam room door opens again, and your parents rush in like water through a cracked dam. They are frantic and fretting, peering around bewilderedly.

“Lord almighty, what the hell happened?!” your dad booms; and your mom doesn’t even think to chastise him.

“I’m okay, Daddy.”

“You got hit by somethin’? Are they gonna do an x-ray? Your mother and I finally made it back home from church, trees and power lines down all over the place, and that boy was waitin’ on the front porch to tell us where you were. You know, the big one. The one with the godawful ponytail.”

“Cregan,” your mom offers.

“Cregan,” your dad says.

“It’s a man bun, Daddy. How’s the farm?”

“We ain’t too bad off. A couple cows dead, half the herd out wanderin’ since the pasture fence blew away. Me and the dogs gotta bring ‘em on back, but your mother and I had to see you first. Did they check you over good? Can you come home today?”

“Sweetheart, there’s…” Your mom’s voice is alarmed. “There’s blood on your gown, on your face, what happened?”

“Well, I, um, the thing is…” You try to tell them. You begin crying again instead. As you sniffle and avert your eyes—afraid, ashamed—Aemond stands and extends one large, scarlet-streaked hand. Your dad shakes it tentatively. And then Aemond explains for you: the child you’ve lost, the child you’ve kept, what has to happen next.

“I am responsible,” Aemond says as they gape at him, half-ecstatic and half-horrified. “And I know that this didn’t exactly happen in the traditional way, and I know that there is a lot of work left for me to do to prove myself worthy of your daughter. But I hope in time you’ll be able to forgive me. Because it seems that we’re going to be family.”

Your mom squeals and hugs Aemond. Your dad hugs you. They stay until you are settled in your own private room—small bed and clean sheets, drugs trickling into your veins—and only then do they listen to your insistence that you’ll be okay until morning, that they need to go home to take care of the farm. They leave with their arms around each other, exchanging murmurs like vows. Then Aemond asks if you feel well enough to see the band. They want to say goodbye.

“You’ll miss me,” Jace says confidently, then swoops in to smack a kiss on your forehead before anyone can stop him, bouncing dark curls and smirking mouth. Aegon jabs him in the ribs, Criston rolls his eyes, Aemond glowers like he’d enjoy putting Jace in need of another 28 dental implants. “If you ever get sick of mentally ill blonds, just let me know. The kid doesn’t change anything. I dig MILFs.”

“Thanks, Jace. I guess.”

“We’ll still see you around, right? You’ll visit us, we’ll visit you?”

“Yeah. I won’t disappear.”

“Good.” And then again, more somberly: “Good.”

Rhaena is dabbing at her gentle, doe-like eyes with a Kleenex, leaning into Luke for support. Criston is gallant. Daeron is optimistic. Baela is exasperated that you told Rhaena you were pregnant but not her.

“I didn’t tell Rhaena,” you counter. “She just happened to be the person who accompanied me on my ill-fated adventure to procure Plan B in Tokyo at like 2 a.m.”

“Which did not work,” Rhaena adds, sniffling into her Kleenex.

“A cautionary tale,” Jace says to everyone. “You hear that, fellas? When in doubt, wrap it before you tap it.”

Baela nods at you. “Luckily, she doesn’t seem too disappointed.” Her eyes flick reticently to Aemond where he sits in the chair closest to your bed, a presence in the room like skies that could turn in an instant, quiet, preoccupied, protective, dazed. “And neither does he.”

“I’m not,” Aemond confesses. He laces one hand through yours and brings his lips to your knuckles, willing the baby to live, willing himself to be better for you both.

“We’re going to talk later,” Cregan tells him sternly. Talk about what it means to be a father.

“Yes,” Aemond agrees.

And then Cregan says goodbye to you too, his cool greyish eyes growing peculiarly warm, his steely exterior chipping away like flecks of old paint.

Aegon is last, the only person left in the room with you and Aemond. Grinning beneath sad eyes, he presses a hand to his heart, and then to yours, and then to your belly. Starboy, Stargirl, Starbaby. Then he says: “Do you want me to hide under your bed so they can’t kick me out when visiting hours end?”

You smile tiredly, exhausted and in pain, pain of the body and pain of the soul. “You have to go, Aegon. Thousands of screaming fangirls will be waiting for you at Arrowhead Stadium.”

He is stunned. “I can’t perform tonight, obviously.”

“Yes you can.”

“No, I definitely can’t.”

“You can,” you say. “You have to. And more than that, you want to. You’ll regret it if you don’t. You live for being Comet’s disaster playboy. I’m not going to take that away from you.”

And then Aegon whimpers: “You can’t leave me.”

“You’re leaving me first.” You beam up at him, caressing his sunburned face, threading your fingers through his disheveled hair. Aemond observes this with curiosity but no suspicion. “This isn’t goodbye, Aegon. I’ll see you again. You can add me to the long list of girls you FaceTime.”

He laughs. “Okay, Stargirl. Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“For more than a day, right?”

“For all of them. Forever.”

And then he’s gone, riding that elliptical orbit out into all the corners of the world that he will glow for: New Orleans, Miami, Rio de Janeiro, Sao Paulo, Bogota, Buenos Ares, Lima, Santiago.

Aemond swears to you: “I’m coming back.”

“I hope so.”

And he tilts up your chin and kisses you, tasting like smoke and dust and blood and desire, and it takes every atom of you, every string of muscle and rusty speck of bone marrow, not to crumble and beg him to stay. You are still at war with the part of you that wants to surrender as he stands and walks out of the room. He does not look back; he can’t without losing his nerve.

In the night, he returns to you, long after visiting hours have ended. Perhaps hundreds of millions of dollars have a way of making formalities disappear. He is only a silhouette in shadows like dawn, dusk, midnight. Aemond climbs into the hospital bed and catches you as you fold into him, whispering to you that everything will be alright, telling you how sorry he is, lulling you into a fitful sleep against his chest, his warmth, his heartbeat. And in the morning when you wake up alone, you wonder if any of it was real.

Did I dream that he was here? Did I dream that I ever met him at all?

But no, he has left you proof, something tangible, permanent. On the nightstand is Aemond’s small square vintage lighter; Targaryen is etched into one side. And there is something else too, a single piece of black paper with two sentences of starlight-colored ink:

I’m coming back.

I love you.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s October, and the leaves are turning from emerald to topaz, garnet, tiger’s eye. You carve pumpkins with your parents on their front porch. You bake apple crisps and sweet potato pies. You feed the pigs, brush the Australian cattle dogs, buy baby supplies with Aegon’s Amex Black Card. You decide to let the grad student and her Giant Flemish rabbit keep your apartment downtown until your lease is up in the spring. You’d rather be here on the farm, even when you’re not on bed rest anymore. You’d rather be home.

You listen to Comet Donati, The Script, Coldplay, One Direction. Rhaena and Baela mail you boxes of crochet comets and stars and planets for the baby’s room. Aegon mails you boxes of Comet’s new donut-themed merch. Now your dad sometimes tends to the beef cattle in boy band t-shirts. Aegon FaceTimes you two or three times a week, sends WhatsApp messages nearly every day. But you rarely talk about Aemond. It’s too painful, it’s too much of a temptation. You cannot imagine others seeing him, hearing him, speaking to him without needing to do it yourself in the same way that you need oxygen and gravity.

The week before Halloween, you begin spotting. You sob hysterically as your mom drives you to the hospital, convinced that you’re losing this baby too, that everything you touch is damaged and defenseless and doomed. You’re fine, as it turns out, and the baby’s fine too, but even after you’re back at the farm you can’t stop shaking, can’t stop imaging the wet heat of blood on your thighs.

You break down and call Aemond. And you talk for five hours until the sun rises, you in a rocking chair on your parents’ front porch, Aemond on a hotel balcony in Santiago, Chile in the shadow of the Andes Mountains. He says he’s working on something, but he’ll come back now if you ask him to, he’ll board the jet and land in Kansas City in time for supper at the farm, and you can hear the backsliding desperation in his voice: Please ask me to come back. Please just fucking ask me.

But it’s not time yet. He’s not ready, and you both know it. You agree not to call each other again until Aemond returns to you. If he returns to me. Neither of you can sleep for days afterwards. Neither of you can open the door a crack without the other rushing through.

One morning you shuffle downstairs in your Cookie Monster pajama pants and oversized NSYNC t-shirt to find your dad eating a heap of homemade pumpkin waffles in front of the television in the den. All five Australian cattle dogs are perched expectantly at his feet. “Them boys of yours are on Good Morning America.”

“What? Really?”

Yes, they are; they’re celebrating the conclusion of their record-breaking world tour and teasing a new album with an interview and two songs. You catch the end of the first one, their new single called Magic, during which the boys run haphazardly around the neon-lit studio, Jace tears off his donut-themed tank top in protest, and Aegon flubs no less than three lyrics.

Robin Roberts is saying: “Now stay tuned for a very special performance coming up next after a commercial break. We’ll be moving to our outdoor stage in Times Square where a sizeable crowd has formed, and we’ve been told that Comet has a surprise in store for us! What do you think it could be, George?”

“I don’t know, Robin,” George Stephanopoulos replies gamely. “But no matter what it is, I’m sure it will have all those young ladies out there screaming!”

Lara Spencer chuckles. “And not just the young ladies either. I’ve been known to attend Comet concerts on occasion.”

Robin says: “Oh no, Lara, are you a Cregan girlie?”

“Okay, yes, I confess, I am kind of a Cregan girlie…”

You get yourself a plate of pumpkin waffles and return just in time to see the camera panning over the crowd outside: shouting, cheering, waving posters and showcasing their homemade t-shirts.

Robin Roberts announces: “And now, with a cover of One Direction’s Through The Dark, here is the illustrious, incomparable, incredible Comet Donati!”

“No way,” you murmur, staring rapturously at the screen.

“You like that one?” your dad asks, tossing pieces of waffles to the dogs.

“It’s my favorite.” And Aemond knows that. I told him in Singapore.

The stage is empty as the first acoustic notes ring out. Then Daeron trots into view—radiant and cheerful in his donut merch—to sing the first lines:

“You tell me that you’re sad and lost your way

You tell me that your tears are here to stay,

But I know you’re only hiding

And I just wanna see you…”

Aegon appears next, clopping in his sparkly pink Crocs. He flips his hair around and winks mischieviously into the camera as he sings:

“You tell me that you’re hurt and you’re in pain

And I can see your head is held in shame,

But I just wanna see you smile again

See you smile again…”

And now the crowd is not just loud but deafening, and you’re so shocked the plate of pumpkin waffles tumbles out of your hands and onto the floor for the Australian cattle dogs to devour, because who bolts out onto the stage next is not Cregan or Luke or Jace but Aemond Targaryen, wearing Aegon’s beloved donut merch and his Adidas sneakers and his scar and blind eye bare for the world to witness. They don’t seem to take any notice of his maiming at all. They screech and hyperventilate and reach for him, awed, ecstatic, touching his outstretched fingertips and his sneakers like the relics of a saint. He is focused, perhaps nervous, but he is smiling. His voice is velvet-smooth and pitch-perfect.

“But don’t burn out

Even if you scream and shout,

It’ll come back to you

And I’ll be here for you…”

The others arrive, and now all six of them are singing the chorus in harmony as they traverse the stage, dodging each other’s chaotic spins and leaps, waving to the crowd, checking on Aemond with encouraging furtive grins and squeezes of his shoulders. Luke is beaming. Jace shoves Aemond playfully and almost gets flung off the stage in return.

“Oh I will carry you over

Fire and water for your love,

And I will hold you closer

Hope your heart is strong enough,

When the night is coming down on you

We will find a way through the dark.”

“Huh,” your dad says. “They ain’t no Johnny Cash, but they’re pretty good, I reckon. I thought Aemond wasn’t on stage much anymore.”

“He’s not.” And you smile wistfully as you watch him, right here with you and yet a world away, real and yet intangible, facts and myths and faith. “But now he knows he has a choice.”

On warm nights, you sit on the wraparound front porch and flick Aemond’s square metal lighter to life, shut it, ignite it again, a lonely golden spark in an ocean of darkness, a star in the night sky. And voices circle in your mind like satellites:

I think history is important.

Whoever you are when you’re in high school…that’s sort of who you are forever, you know?

I’ve never met anyone like you.

Aemond would want to be involved.

What the hell do I know about being a decent father?

Our father never cared about us.

It’s not just for me. It’s never been just for me.

“Please come back,” you whisper to the infinite emptiness of the universe, so softly you can barely hear yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s November, and you are finally showing more than you can hide beneath hoodies and sweaters. The attendees of your parents’ Southern Baptist church—who glimpse you at Walmart or McDonald’s or Freddy’s Frozen Custard or 7-Eleven—gossip about you ceaselessly, venomously, with pity but no compassion. And your parents, who have been politely ignoring jibes about you for a decade, do more than just ignore it this time. They clear out their church mailbox and walk out the front door together and never go back. They’ve been shopping around for a new place of worship. Your mom says they might get really experimental and try out the Methodists.

Rhaena sends you pictures from her and Luke’s trip to the Mammoth Site in South Dakota. Baela has you on speakerphone when she tells Jace she wants to take a break. She’s completed two ballet school auditions already, and has scheduled two more; at least one acceptance seems imminent. You call Cregan to ask him how to prepare for parenthood. You call Criston to ask if he’d be willing to serve as a reference. He writes you a five-page recommendation letter and tells you prospective employers can contact him any time, day or night. You are hired as a therapist by the University of Missouri. For now, to accommodate your high-risk pregnancy and copious doctor’s appointments, it is a part-time remote position. Your parents are at last forced to get internet for the farmhouse. Your dad starts watching beef cattle raising tutorials on YouTube. And oddly, when you begin taking appointments with college students struggling with breakups or parental pressure or substance abuse, you don’t feel nervous at all. You feel like you’re doing exactly what you were made for.

One morning, you receive a WhatsApp message from Aegon: I wonder if bumblefuck Kansas has the Rolling Stone…

Missouri, you reply, and then you go to Walmart to check. Sure enough, there are numerous copies in the magazine aisle, and that’s a good thing, because a plethora of teenage girls are scrambling for them. Aemond is on the front cover, smiling faintly; his scar and cloudy blind eye are neither centered nor hidden. And he isn’t wearing black. His suit is a deep, lush green like jade, summer grass, ivy. The title reads: Aemond Targaryen is Out of Hiding.

You begin reading. He talks about exactly what happened at the Budokan. He talks about the label’s unilateral decision to excise him from the band. He talks about feeling lost, humiliated, pitied, ignored, unlovable. And then he shares what changed him. He says that he met with other survivors of facial trauma: soldiers, professional athletes, people involved in car and motorcycle accidents. He says that he sat down with half a dozen different therapists until he found one that he really liked. He chronicles the process of finding purpose again in a way that is truthful and inspirational and yet—to you, anyway—conspicuously vague. He is still somewhat involved with Comet’s songwriting and will likely perform with them once or twice per year, he wants to advocate for people living with disabilities like his…but what else? What else?

I think what I want people to know is that progress isn’t instant, and that nobody can do it alone, Aemond writes. I’m only where I am today because of the support of a lot of extraordinary people. I want to thank Comet Donati—Luke, Cregan, Aegon, Daeron, and Jace—as well as our tour manager Criston Cole, who is like a father us. I am immensely grateful to my mother Alicent and my sister Helaena. I am indebted to the fans for the unconditional love they have shown me.

But most of all, I owe my recovery to a therapist from the American Midwest. She can be a little pretentious sometimes, but we don’t fault her for that. She’s earned it. Thank you, Stargirl. I hope this planet is treating you well.

Smiling, glowing, you close the magazine, take it to the checkout counter, purchase it along with five KitKat bars. The baby can’t seem to get enough of them.

Two days later, you have another ultrasound done—your fourth—and at last you are able to give Aegon the answer he’s been zealously hounding you for. You message him on WhatsApp: You’re going to have a niece!

!!!!! he replies almost immediately. And then: Name her Aegonella.

Probably not!

As if you have any better ideas??

You share a few from your list: Celeste, Luna, Aurora, Halley…

Aemond literally just said Halley, Aegon types back. Like right before you did. And then: He’s very excited, omg, omggggggg it’s so cute. Thirty seconds later: Wish you were here :(

“Me too, Starboy,” you murmur as you sit on the couch in the den with Belmont sprawled across your lap. Then you send: I’m scared he’s not coming back.

He is, Aegon replies. He’s working on something. You’ll like it.

And you have to believe this, blindly, faithfully, trusting that something is real even when you can’t see it. You have no other choice.

You beg your dad not to slaughter any of the pigs for ham, and he reluctantly agrees. At Thanksgiving dinner, half the dishes on the table are vegan. You’re trying out new recipes. You jot down the ones you like best in a notebook Luke sent you: black pages, white ink.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s December, and there are stockings hung by the fireplace and a blanket of snow on the ground. You and your parents pick out a Christmas tree at a local farm, and your dad chops it down and throws it in the back of the Ford F-150. Inside your mom’s CD player in the kitchen spins David Archuleta’s Christmas album. As your bump grows, you keep running out of clothes that fit; Aegon is always happy to mail you more donut-themed merch. Thanks to his persistence, they stock nearly every size known to humans. Baela gets her acceptance letters. Aegon gets to make out with Taylor Swift in the Colosseum. They are photographed together in Rome by paparazzi one day and then never again. A week later he’s with Selena Gomez in Ibiza. A week after that he’s spotted with Camila Cabello in New York City. The wheel keeps turning, his route through the solar system long and meandering.

Emergency! Aegon texts you one afternoon as you’re sipping hot apple cider at the dining room table and assembling a 500-piece puzzle depicting the sinking of the Titanic.

You know better than to take him too seriously. You reply, in no hurry: ?

Aemond says I can’t hang out with Starbaby unless I stop taking so many drugs?!!?! Fascist?!??!?!?!

Hang out. Like they’ll be going to clubs and Crocs stores together. You grin and reply: I mean yeah, that sounds accurate.

Well fuck, Aegon says. Guess I better start doing those substance abuse education modules again!

On Christmas Eve morning, your parents are at their slightly-less-judgmental replacement church. You are trying out a new recipe in the kitchen: vegan snickerdoodles. The whole house smells like cinnamon and vanilla. Beyond the window over the sink, snow falls in fluffy white bundles like rumpled bedsheets, like clouds. The Australian cattle dogs follow you around hoping for dropped cookies, their claws clicking on the hardwood floor. David Archuleta is singing O Come, All Ye Faithful. You keep bumping into things; you forget how big you are. Your belly seems to grow by the day.

Your iPhone buzzes. It’s a WhatsApp message from Aegon that puzzles you: Hey, I promised I wouldn’t bother you guys for the first few days but I really need the Netflix password and he’s not answering my texts, rude, so could you ask him for it please??? And then a few seconds later: Please. I just really want to watch Grey’s Anatomy.

You stare at his message, not understanding. You reply: Ask who…?

After a moment, Aegon sends back: …Never mind :)

“Really?” you gasp to yourself in the hushed peace of the kitchen, not wanting to believe, not wanting to be disappointed. You peek out the window. Nothing.

You open Google and search Aemond Targaryen. One of the first results is an article from the Kansas City Star published one hour ago. The headline reads: Comet Donati Heartthrob Opens Farm Animal Rescue Outside of Kansas City.

“Oh my God.” You scroll madly, skimming the text. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

One of Aemond’s quotes reads: I wanted to go where the need is. A sanctuary like this in San Francisco or Boston wouldn’t be anything special, wouldn’t be as necessary. But here in Missouri, at the epicenter of industrial animal agriculture in the United States? There’s a lot of important work to be done here. There are a lot of lives I hope to be able to save. We’ve been purchasing animals from auctions and taking in others that have been seized from situations where they were abused or neglected. In addition to our own efforts, I’d like to help launch similar rescues throughout the Midwest, and increase public access to vegan alternatives…

There are photos of him posing with animals: a towering, scarred, ancient mule named Vhagar, a three-legged goat called Sunfyre. In all the pictures, Aemond is smiling. And here in the kitchen of your parents’ farmhouse, so are you. Without thinking, you reach back to touch your fingertips to the black-ink words beneath your Comet Donati crewneck sweatshirt. You hear the lyrics— I’ll come back for you if it kills me, Comets clip by again after eons and so can I—and you know them to be true like space, time, gravity, love.

You look out the window again and he’s here, speeding down the winding path of the driveway, snow dust streaming out behind his Gold Star like the tail of a comet.

[sapphiretanto]

(CW: Ranting/Venting; the fic I am talking about will not be named, nor will I give the author’s name away. Please send me a message if you want to know)

Did we even watch the same show? He’s not a caring, big brother? He’s a stick in the mud?

The only thing I’ll give you is that he’s full of himself… because he’s an idiot teenager with badass fighting skills and weapons. Of course he’s gonna be a cocky little shit. Most people with Leo’s skill would be.

I’m going to assume that you mean part of the time he’s full of himself. But if you mean all the time, then I’ll correct you there. More often than not, he is actually very insecure— a very common trait among the Leonardo’s.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be leading the team?”

“It’s all my fault. I let the guys down!”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again”

“I’d just hold you back. You guys train, I’ll watch. It’s all I’m good for anyway…”

“I’m a liability to the whole team”

“I won’t be much help out there anyway”

Leo is a perfectionist and this shows in the way he leads— coming across as bossy or arrogant— and how he treats himself. The guy just got out of a three-month coma after he had the shit kicked out of him and what does he say when he’s by himself after everyone else went to look for Raph in the woods?

He holds himself to impossibly high standards— both placed by himself and some of the misguided lessons he was taught.

Alright, now for the stick in the mud part. Leo is a fucking dork (I mean this in the most affectionate sense). He loves Space Heroes to the point where he quotes it during missions. He likes puns, is fascinated by Japan culture, martial arts, meditation, etc. He trains very hard to excel at ninjutsu/martial arts— both so he can help his brothers in combat and because it’s a passion of his. That doesn’t make him boring in the slightest. He has some of the most ridiculous dialogue throughout the series:

“Alright guys. Let’s put Old Mother Hubbard back in her cupboard!”

“Hello!? Space Heroes!? Captain Ryan! Didn’t you see the episode where they fought the Cortexecons?!”

“Awesome! Oh, this is so rad! I feel like Van Helsing, but way cooler than him, actually. Way more rad than Van Helsing”

“Alright guys, prepare to dish out the mighty wrath of justice!”

“We don’t know he’s gonna do anything bad. He could be on his way… to… church!”

“I… don’t really have a pinky?”

He can’t lie for shit which leads to him saying silly things:

“Be cool. Be cool.” *answers phone* “uh.. hey man! What’s… what’s going down? *Raph says they better have not watched the Crognard finale without him and Leo laughs nervously* W-who, us?! Of course not! But I bet if we did watch it, we would have found it anti-climate… climactic!”

*gets asked by Chloe if there’s other turtles like him* “Nope! Uh-uh! Just me! Mr. Imaginary Talking Turtle!”

“He’s just kidding, Mrs. O’Neil. Kirby’s…uh.. on a.. safari! In Puerto Rico! And he won’t be back for a while.”

And he’s not the goody-two shoes and suck up people think of him as. He has gone behind Splinter’s back on several occasions, snuck out both willingly and unwillingly. The guy dressed in black and caused petty crime with his sister and her girlfriend Shinigami because he was pissed off at Shredder.

As for not being a caring brother. You mean this guy?! This Leo?! ⬇️

Couldn’t be this Leo, right? There’s no way he’s a mother hen— being both doting and getting after his brothers.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full!”

“Mikey, you never cease to amaze me”

“Leo never left your side” — April when Raph was reduced to a mere plant by The Creep

“I’m sorry about Spike, Raphael.”

“Donnie, don’t lose sight of who you are!”

“Nice job, D”

“Donnie, the go karts worked great. Nice job!”

“Mikey, come on! It’s not that bad! And Raph promises not to make fun of you anymore.”

Not the Leo that uses all his strength and stays behind in the Technodrome holding Kraang Prime so his brothers and April can escape. Not that Leo who while just barely awake after a coma goes after a mutated monster in the woods to get his family back. Not that Leo who forced himself to stay calm so the others can be calm while they go through the most insane shit, or cannot grieve in the moment because he has to ensure the rest of their safety, so his focus during missions and battle is scattered in different places. Because he couldn’t possibly help bandage their wounds, worry when they’re hurt and not give up on a family member. Not Leo preventing Donnie from straight up unaliving Don Vizioso because Leo doesn’t want his younger brother to do what he did and change him like it changed him. He doesn’t sacrifice himself over and over because he loves his brothers, right? Right??

[buriedpair]

Just a simple ask…

Reader as a MILF/DILF?

For example: once the reader gets comfortable, they start to open up about themselves and one day bring up that they have a child?

(I joined the discord, the people are very lovely and lively)

YESSSS THIS ASK IS EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED!!! Fun little fact: Gambit was ALMOST a dilf, but I didn't feel like designing him a kid, lol!

I did more of how they'd react to the news that you have a kid and how they'd respond to a darling's child in general, if that's okay!

THANKS FOR JOINING THE DISCORD!!!! I'm glad you like it there!!!

Yandere!OCs x GN Reader

Amias

He's so happy you trust him enough to tell him! Um... but... that does mean you have more experience than him, which is kind of interesting. Amias is a huge loser virgin who can't even take care of himself, let alone a child! It's a strange situation for him to end up in, but he cares a lot about you and you trusted him with this information, so he'll definitely try.

He isn't against your child, but he isn't thrilled about it either. You'll soon learn to keep the kid away from Amias lest he try to feed it cup noodles for every meal. He doesn't know the first thing about caring for a child.

Edge

Edge is the absolute king of self-care. He'll definitely be protective of your kid, and you. However, he cannot stand the little rodent sometimes. You're his priority, and as much as he wants to care for your child with you, it isn't his... Even if you can't birth children yourself, he's annoyed that this thing is the product of you and someone else.

He'd be good at the basic taking care of children part, but he's awful when the kid starts crying or complaining. He'll just yell, and get annoyed. Honestly, he's not prepared for a child in the slightest.

Double Down

"Want to make more?"

Yeah, he doesn't really have much experience in this department. He used to be a 'hit and quit' kind of guy, so even if he knocked someone up he didn't stick around to see the result. He'll probably forget your kid exists most of the time until you remind him.

He's a good babysitter. He knows how to keep a child happy. Though, similar to Amias, he isn't really the best at taking care of himself, let alone a child. He'll do his best, though. Definitely better than Amias.

Jackpot

Oh my god, a mini you! He loves you, he loves your kid. He would die for the little thing, honestly. He's probably the second best person with a darling who has a kid, mostly because he's the only one who's responsible enough for himself.

Though, don't let him get ahead of himself. He loves that child, but he might grow protective of it over time, as he does with you. If he's taking them to school, they'll have a long lecture as to why they're never allowed to date anyone for their own safety because everyone is rotten garbage compared to someone who came from HIS darling.

The kid might end up terrified, in the long-run.

Gambit

If Jackpot is second, Gambit is definitely first. He'd be like a father figure to your child, and love them unconditionally. He's gentle at heart, even if a bit misguided. He's caring, and he's well-mannered

He'd know exactly how to calm the kiddo down, and would always be a second parent to them. They can trust him! Except, he may get a bit too comfortable and start sharing his twisted ideologies with the kid. Before you know it, the kid starts replicating Gambit's less than ideal tendencies.

[maxphilippa]

people not getting nickel at all is so funny to me.

dude. what part of "he was acting out of fear because he didn't want to get manipulated by balloon since he did have story with him back then in s1, and wanted to protect his friends/alliance, and EVEN IF HE MESSED UP A LOT WITH SUITCASE AND BALLOON, it wasn't out of malice, but out of misguided fear and lack of proper communication that turned into something worse due to Nickel's nature." you don't get. it's not about forgetting what he did or treating him as likeable or anything. he very much didn't forgive himself over what happened and let BALLOON HIMSELF KNOW that he DIDN'T have to forgive him. he is OKAY with accepting his faults and with balloon not wanting to be part of that change because HE RECOGNIZES THAT HE WAS AN ASSHOLE TO SUITCASE AND TO HIM. CLOVER'S THERAPY SESSION DID SOMETHING TO HIM. HE'S TAKING ACCOUNTABILITY FOR HIS ACTIONS.

of course i can totally get not liking him on s2, he wasn't really one of my faves but hey! he grew and recognized that what he did was wrong! adam himself said that he did care about suitcase and bb, but his lack of EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE doomed their alliance. nickel isn't justifying himself with "oh but i was scared of balloon", he is accepting that his fear towards him changed into something else that he couldn't control.

also btw have you considered that they didn't know what to do with nickel on s2. if you deeply analyze him it makes sense as to why he changed so much on s3. "ohhhhh but he was a dick to Suitcase since the start" again. have you considered that nickel's writing has changed a lot over time. he's pure snark there but even then still cared mid-late s2. i could do a whole separate post analyzing his relationship with Suitcase from both of their perspectives but that's not the point. if that was the point of his thing with suitcase it wouldn't made sense for nickel to say "i just wanted to keep what we had".

AS WELL I WANT TO NOTE SOMETHING. His relationship with Balloon getting better WASN'T out of nowhere. On the comics, Balloon sent Nickel a letter when he wanted to fix things with others, and maybe that was also a factor that played for Nickel too. Remember that Nickel is a guy that acts first and thinks later. As well, Balloon references that Nickel and him used to trick Yinyang back at the Hotel. Nickel changed a lot in s3 and didn't have Baseball who was excusing his unhealthy behaviour either. Box helped these two to grow for the better.

tl;dr: nickel has one of those arcs that i need to study like a bug and everyone still treating him like a villain despite wanting to grow and understanding that his actions were terribly wrong is so funny to me. also balloon very much did end up liking the guy genuinely when they were friends as well. people can grow and change. people who had terrible relationships can heal and can get better.

[asongofmarvelanddc]

Ties That Bind

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen X Reader

WORD COUNT: 6707

WARNINGS: canon typical cousin-cest

SUMMARY: After spending most of your childhood in the Red Keep, it’s hard to let go of the bonds you’ve formed even with war on the horizon.

A/N: It's been over a month since HOTD and I'm really rusty with writing so if you see bad writing, pretend you don't xx Please reblog, like, or leave a comment! I love hearing from you guys 💛

You were only two years of age when your mother, Laena Velaryon, and father, Daemon Targaryen, left you in King’s Landing while they went to deal with some business in Driftmark. Looking back, it’s unlikely that they intended for your stay to last longer than a few moons.

The weeks stretched into years, and as you began to serve as your Aunt Alicent’s ward, your parents had more daughters – your sisters, Baela and Rhaena. They visited once, after your cousin Rhaenyra had her son Luke. Your mother had hugged you so tight and for so long that you feared she would never let go. And your father…he couldn’t stop looking at you.

Only a few years after that visit, a raven came to the Red Keep from Pentos. Laena Velaryon was dead. Your Uncle Viserys was gentle enough while delivering the news. He sat by your side, ready to console you if you cried. When you didn’t, he felt safe dismissing you from his chambers.

“She’s in shock.” you heard Alicent whisper as you left the room. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps it would not hit you until you were at the burial.

That was not the case.

Long after Lord Vaemond’s eulogy and everyone returned to the castle, you stood on those cliffs staring out into the sea where your mother’s body now lay. It was a strange feeling knowing that she was gone. You felt the loss in your heart, but there was no grief, no pain…you were not even certain that you would miss her.

A part of you was ashamed to feel that way, which is perhaps the reason why you felt the need to hug your father tightly when you were reunited for the first time in years. You wanted him to believe you mourned her as your sisters did. And you hoped being with your family would help you feel that pain. It was a misguided hope.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of gravel crunching under approaching feet. It was Aemond.

He walked over and stood beside you, searching the horizon with his eyes to spot whatever it was you were gazing so intently at. With you being a few years older than him, you stood a head taller, but he was growing fast.

Eventually, he realised that you were not looking at any specific thing and turned his gaze to you. He looked at you through squinted eyes due to the gusts of wind blowing his long silver hair into his eyes.

He examined your face for sometime before asking, “Are you sad?”

A simple question it was not. You thought of how you’d feel if your cousins, or Uncle Viserys and Aunt Alicent died and knew that you’d be inconsolable. You would not feel this…numb.

“I don’t know,” you chose to answer as you turned to face him, “She was my mother and I’m sad she’s gone, but…I never knew her really.”

Any grief you felt was over never getting the chance to know your mother.

These were not thoughts you’d share with anyone, but Aemond wasn’t just anyone. With no dragons to claim, you chose each other. He was your closest friend and ally, and you were certain that there was not a single person in the seven kingdoms that knew your heart better.

Aemond slipped his hand into yours and gave it a gentle squeeze. He knew how conflicted you were without the thought being expressed, and he wanted to be your comfort.

You looked down at him and smiled softly, “Thank you. For coming to make sure I was alright.”

“Mother sent me,” he said quickly, sounding flustered. He never liked admitting how much he cared.

“Of course she did,” you chuckled just as a blush coloured his cheeks, “Come, let’s return inside.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were not sure how late it was. All you knew was that you’d been put to bed a few hours earlier but had chosen to read while your sisters snuck out of the room. That reading was interrupted by chatter and yelling coming from down the hall. You would not describe yourself as a particularly nosy child, but the amount of voices made you curious as to why so many people were awake at this hour.

Following the voices, you approached a room where the noise was loudest and pushed the door open. Your father, Daemon, was standing by it and as you looked around the room, you realised that everyone was here; your sisters, Rhaenyra, her children, Aegon and Aemond, your Aunts Rhaenys and Alicent, Uncle Viserys – there were even members of the Kinsguard present.

Aemond was sitting on a chair facing away from you, his mother standing in front of him. As your father pulled you closer to him, you meekly asked, “What happened?”

“Aemond stole Vhagar!” Baela spat harshly as she glared and pointed at him

You shifted your gaze to Aemond who had slightly turned around at the sound of your voice. As soon as your eyes landed on him, your blood ran cold and the air seemed to leave your lungs. There was a jagged scar running down the left side of his face, and his eye was swollen and stitched shut.

Without thinking, you slipped out of your father’s hold and brushed past your sisters, Rhaenyra and her children to reach Aemond, ignoring the looks from everyone in the room.

Aemond looked hesitant as you raised a hand to his face, your fingers brushing his cheek, but even that was too sensitive and he winced in pain.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and blinked back tears asking, “Vhagar did this?”

He shook his head and looked at his mother. You turned to face her and saw her burning gaze focused directly at Rhaenyra who was bleeding from one arm and shielding Luke with the other.

Realisation dawned on you in that moment. “Luke?” you gasped as the boy cowered behind his mother. You couldn’t believe it. What reason could he possibly have had to hurt Aemond?

“There is no need to start this quarrel up again,” Rhaenys said, “We should get the children cleaned up and put them to bed.”

Everyone nodded, mumbling words of agreement as they started to clear out the room.

“Come, Y/N,” Daemon reached out a hand as he summoned you from across the room.

You stared at him for a moment then looked at Aemond whose eye was still on you.

“Uncle Viserys?” he turned to look at you, an eyebrow raised, “Please may I go with Aemond?”

Viserys looked over your head, no doubt to your father, before letting out a sigh. “Of course, you may,” he cracked a smile, “But don’t stay awake too late.”

You smiled thankfully and returned to Aemond who was being helped out of his chair by Alicent. Almost everyone had left the room now, but Daemon remained by the door, watching you. You took Aemond’s hand in yours as you walked out of the room with Alicent and the Maester trailing behind you.

Alicent allowed you stay with Aemond for the night. She knew that both you and her son needed each other that night. He was laid on his back facing the ceiling, two pillows cradling his head to minimise movement. You climbed into bed beside him when he’d finished his tea and held his hand gently under the blankets.

“Does it hurt terribly?” you whispered after staring at him for a while.

“It did,” he said, “But the Maester’s tea is helping.”

You could see him trying to turn his head to face you completely, but wincing every time he moved it. It broke your heart to see him in so much pain. You didn’t realise when you started to cry.

“I’m so sorry this happened,” you spoke through tears as you squeezed his hand.

Aemond was quiet at first, but then you saw a tear roll out of his eye and disappear into his silver locks. “I thought you would be angry with me.”

“Angry?” you asked, wiping your eyes, “Why would I be angry with you?”

“I thought– Baela and Rhaena said–” he started through sniffles, “I should’ve given you a chance to claim Vhagar before I did.”

He thought he had stolen your chance at having a dragon, and that you would resent him for it.

“Vhagar chose you,” you reassured him, “She wasn’t mine to claim.”

Aemond seemed to blow out a breath of relief as more tears rolled down the side of his face and into his hair.

You decided to change the subject to make him a big happier, "Once I find a dragon, you could teach me how to claim it."

"And then you and I can go flying together," he said, his tone sounding lighter, eager, "We could race each other around King's Landing!"

"We could fly anywhere we want," you said, intertwining your fingers with his, "Just us."

Aemond did his best to look at you properly as a soft smile formed on his lips, "Just us."

You moved up in the bed and hugged him close. He didn't say anything even when your tears surely soaked through his shirt, and so you didn't let go even after he'd fallen asleep. Not even as you drifted off as well.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was dawn when you suddenly woke up. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. You glanced over at Aemond who was finally sleeping soundly. He'd woken up twice during the night crying in pain. Only milk of the poppy could ease his plight and allow him to return to his slumber.

The Maester said it would remain like that for next few nights. Alicent seemed even more terrified for Aemond, but you didn't care. You were going to stay by his side and help him through it. When he woke during the night, you whispered that promise to him over and over again, and his body seemed to calm.

Carefully, you slipped your hand out of Aemond's and climbed out of the bed. You gave him one last glance to make sure he was still sleeping before tiptoeing out of the room and returning to your own chambers.

As soon as you entered, you came face to face with your handmaiden, May.

"My Lady," she curtseyed, "Your father is expecting you in Princess Rhaneyra's chambers."

It was an odd request, but you went anyway. You noticed that your sisters were not in their beds and assumed they would be with your father as well.

When you finally arrived at Rhaenyra's chambers, Daemon was visibly annoyed. He turned to you, his hands resting on the hilt of his sword.

"Where were you?" he asked, though it sounded more like an accusation.

You nervously glanced at Rhaenyra who was standing beside him before explaining yourself, "Uncle Viserys said I could go with Aemond."

"Yes, to escort him to his chambers, not spend the night," he snapped, eyes burning deep into you.

His anger was unexpected. You and Aemond had practically shared a bedchamber since you were small. He would often climb into your bed late into the night and you into his. After some time, Alicent no longer cared to send you off to separate rooms, knowing come the morning, you would be found curled up next to each other sleeping soundly.

Of course, your father wouldn't know that. He was never there.

"I'm sorry, father," you bowed your head, mostly to avoid his eyes.

"It does not matter," he grunted, "I called you here to tell you that we will be returning to Dragonstone today."

The news was unsurprising considering what happened to Aemond. It was good they would be gone while he recovered.

"I need you to go and pack your things," he continued, "We will be leaving soon."

You froze. He could not be suggesting what you thought.

"Why?"

"Because you are coming with us," Rhaenyra answered. Coming from her lips, it sounded more like a declaration.

You began to panic as you looked between the two. "But…I don't want to," you said as you took a step back, "I wish to return to King's Landing."

They both seemed taken aback by that. Rhaenyra shared a glance with Daemon before stepping closer and taking your hand.

"Y/N, your father is going to Dragonstone. Your sisters too," she smiled encouragingly as she crouched down slightly, "Don't you want to be with them?"

"I want to go home," you snatched your hand away, suddenly terrified of how this situation may unfold. You couldn’t leave. Not now.

Not once did Daemon shift his stance. He just stood there, weight resting on one foot as he stated, "We're your family."

It was true. But your sisters had never needed you, and you questioned whether your father ever did either. What had changed? Why did he want you with him now that your mother was gone and Aemond needed you the most?

"Aemond is family too," you whispered, your gaze never leaving your father's.

Daemon rarely lost composure, but in that moment you saw anger awakened in him. He titled his head and narrowed his eyes before moving closer to you.

"That little cunt stole your mother's dragon," he hissed, "Your dragon."

That set you off. Your fists clenched at your sides and your skin felt like it was burning.

"You cannot steal a dragon," Daemon reacted to that like you had spit in his face, "And I don't want to go to Dragonstone, I don’t want to leave Aemond. I want to return to King’s Landing with Uncle Viserys.”

Daemon was silent as he watched you. He meant to intimidate you, but you were too angry to be affected. Rhaenyra’s eyes were trained on him, seemingly concerned about what he might do.

"I am your father,” he said after a moment’s silence, “You will do as I say."

He brushed past you as he walked out of the room and that was that. Tears began to well in your eyes as you looked down at the ground. You promised Aemond that you would be there for him. You promised…and then you didn’t see him for six years.

***

In some ways, being on Dragonstone had not been the worst thing imaginable. You cherished the opportunity to form relationships with your sisters, and your cousins Jace, Luke and Joffrey. But even as you grew closer to them, they could not replace the people you had lost.

For a time, the relationship with your father was improved. It was only in recent years when his many attempts to have you betrothed had been rejected by you that your relationship soured. You could not provide him with a reason for your rejections despite the suitability of many of the matches, and so he washed his hands off of you.

Your father loved you. You knew he did. But he loved other things – and people – more. It was a reality you came to accept in the years living with him.

When Rhaenyra announced that the family would be travelling to King's Landing on short notice, you could barely contain your excitement. You did not care that it was to go and defend Luke's claim to the Driftwood throne, all that mattered was that you were going to see your family again.

Arriving in King’s Landing on dragon back for the first time was surreal. You did not wait to see the Senryr taken into the dragon pit by the keepers, nor did you wait for your sisters or cousins when you landed. The only thing on your mind was finding Aemond and...well, you did not know what you would do or say yet. But you knew you needed to see him.

Starting at Aemond's old chambers, you were surprised to find Alicent coming out of the room.

"Aunt Alicent," you breathed as she wrapped you in a hug.

She was beaming when she pulled away, even stepping back to take in your appearance. "Y/N," she gasped and cupped your face in her hands, "How you've grown!"

You smiled and looked to your feet as heat rose to your cheeks. "How is Uncle?" you asked, offering a sympathetic smile.

Her face immediately dropped, eyes glazing over as her lip twitched. She didn't have to say it. It was as everyone feared – he did not have long left in him.

"I'm sorry."

She nodded, accepting your condolences before plastering another smile on her face, "Were you looking for Aemond? He'll be on his way to the throne room. For the hearing."

"I'll go there now," you pecked her cheek and hurried down the hall.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sheer amount of people filtering into the throne room was clear indication to the importance of this particular hearing. Rhaenyra was standing with your father at the very front of the room on the right side of the aisle. You bowed your head and briskly walked towards them to stand with your cousins.

On the opposite side of the aisle, you spotted white hair very similar to yours on three heads. One of them was sweet Helaena, and Aegon was more than likely the man standing next to her looking bored. Towering over the both of them was Aemond. His hands were clasped behind his back, long hair cascading over his shoulders. The eye patch gave him away instantly.

You sucked in a sharp breath when you saw him, and as if he’d heard you, he snapped his head in your direction. Even from this distance, you saw the way his eye widened ever so slightly upon making eye contact. Every inch of you wanted to dart across the room and throw yourself into him, but you knew what the consequences of such a public display would be.

Where you were anxious and jittery, Aemond froze at the sight of you. He'd gathered that you were in the Red Keep when he encountered his nephews in the courtyard, and yet he was still so unprepared to see you again. Instantly his walls began to crumble and he found himself scrambling to keep them standing.

You smiled at him and he melted, but he could not let you see that. Instead of returning it, he turned away from you and faced the Iron throne. It was an unexpected action, but it didn't hurt yet. Perhaps he had not actually seen you.

You kept your eyes on him for the rest of the hearing, hoping to gain his attention – to no avail. When the entire farce of a hearing was ended, you tried to call out to Aemond, but he disappeared amongst the crowd of people.

He spent the rest of the day avoiding you, much to your frustration. It is why you were glad to hear that Viserys had requested to have his entire family join him for dinner. Before Aemond could protest or find another place at the table, you occupied the seat next to him, hoping it would force him into acknowledging you.

It did not work.

Despite being sat right beside him, Aemond made no move to speak to you or even look in your direction. He was actively ignoring your presence, and it would be a lie to say it did not cut you deeply.

It remained that way for most of the night. At one point, he actually turned his chair away from you to watch Jace and Helaena dance. It wasn’t until after his toast to your cousins and the scuffle which followed that he acknowledged your existence.

Everyone but you was on their feet, a few guards held Jace and Luke back as Aemond stared your father down. For a brief second he glanced in your direction, a second that felt like a lifetime, then he turned, hummed to himself in annoyance, and strutted out of the room. Without thinking about it, you rose to your feet and followed him out, ignoring the stares of confusion from your father and Rhaenyra.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outside Aemond's room, you raised a hand, intending to knock, but decided against it and pushed the door open. The two of you never knocked in the past, why should it be any different now?

Aemond was sitting in a leather chair by the fireplace, one hand resting on the arm while he cracked the knuckles of his other hand. He paused when you entered and tilted his head slightly to see you with his right eye. Once he confirmed it was you, he turned back to the fireplace, not acknowledging you at all.

You scoffed and looked around the room, spotting a gold chalice and some wine sitting on a high table on the opposite side of the room. You walked over to it and filled the chalice before approaching Aemond. He finally lifted his head to look at you when you held out the cup for him.

“What are you doing here?” the smoothest Valyrian danced off his tongue as he accepted the wine from you.

You smirked and raised a brow. “He speaks,” you said, “I was beginning to fear that you had taken a sacred vow of silence. One that only applies to me, of course.”

He scoffed and took a sip of the wine, ignoring your comment. Despite his attempts to pretend you didn’t exist, you did not miss the way his body tensed as you sat down on the arm of the chair.

“Your Valyrian has improved.” Improved was an understatement. His accent was perfect.

Aemond shook his head and downed the drink before rising to his feet. “‘Tis impolite to enter one’s chambers without first knocking,” he said, his back to you.

The hostility was less amusing now and increasingly annoying. “You’ve grown bitter,” you narrowed your eyes at him from where you were seated.

He turned to face you and cocked his head to the side, “I’d like to think I’ve grown honest.”

“It was unnecessary,” you said, referring to his toast.

He smirked when he caught on to what you were talking about. “It was fun.”

You cracked a smile at that and Aemond’s lip twitched, his eye gleaming. Slowly, you pushed yourself off the chair and walked closer to him. He didn’t even flinch when you came so close that he could feel the warmth radiating off of you.

“You don’t talk as much you used to,” you whispered, your tone sad “You don’t smile either.”

He seemed so…guarded. He was looking at you like you were some kind of predator that he had to protect himself from. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but feared how he might react.

“Much has changed,” he said with the tiniest shrug, “It has been six years.”

Six years of yearning, you wanted to say.

Time had passed, it was true, but that did not explain why he felt so far from you. Or why he’d been ignoring you since you arrived. Bonds like the one you shared are not so easily damaged, nor broken.

“You have changed,” you said, eyeing him in the least discreet way possible.

He too drank you in unashamedly, taking his time from the bottom of your embroidered silk dress, to the top of your silvery-white, curly hair, before finally meeting your gaze. He looked seconds away from saying something, or doing something, but then he caught himself and shook his head.

“As have you,” he chose to say instead. The words came out steady, but when you glanced down, his fists were clenched tight. You reached out to take his hand and he moved back.

"Why are you being like this?" you snapped, though you never raised your voice, "What have I done to upset you?"

He was taken aback by your straightforward question. His plan had been to maintain a wary distance from you until you left again. He did not want to dig into memories of the past...but he couldn't deny you answers when you looked at him with such desperate and confused eyes.

He licked his lips and confessed two words, "You left."

You stepped back in surprise. That was it? Of all the things you may have done to earn such a cold reception from him, leaving him all those years ago never once crossed your mind.

"What?" you practically spluttered.

“You abandoned me,” he reiterated.

“Aemond, you can’t possibly be angry with me over that,” you smiled nervously though you were confused, “You must know I had no intention of leaving you.”

His voice was measured, unemotional. “And yet, you did.”

“I was a child. I could not have prevented them from taking me anymore than you could have.”

He was unconvinced and looked away from you.

“Aemond.”

He didn't respond.

“Aemond, would you look at me.” You grabbed his chin to force him into facing you. With reluctance, he met your gaze.

“My mother had just died. And seeing you hurt that night, pained me more than standing at her funeral,” you whispered it like a dark secret, “That is how deeply I care for you.”

Aemond was stubborn – more so than you – but his features softened at your admission.

The day he woke to find that you had left was the worst pain he had ever felt. He'd been inconsolable for weeks, even attempting to fly Vhagar to Dragonstone and bring you home. But when the tears dried and the irrational thoughts quieted, Aemond came to understand what he had to do to move on. He chose to forget the things he had lost. He chose to forget you.

Despite what you’ve admitted, you do not look away from him shyly, or run away in embarrassment. You keep your gaze steady so that he knows your heart is true.

Your voice trembles slightly as you lower your hand from his chin and ask, “Do you understand?”

He hesitates before nodding slowly. Not once since the day you left had he allowed himself to imagine that you might say anything like that. He spent years hating that you were his weakness. Resenting the fact that years later, he still felt the ache of missing you when he lay in bed at night and you were not there beside him.

And even though he successfully hid his true feelings from everyone else, he could never fool himself.

“I’ve often thought about that night,” he muttered so quietly that it was as if he was speaking to himself, “When I do, this,” he points to his eye patch, “is not the loss I mourn. It is you.”

You sucked in a sharp breath.

“You cared for me?”

“I breathed for you,” he said, then dropped his gaze to the floor in embarrassment, “I fear I still do.”

You let out an exasperated laugh, "Aemond, why would that be something to fear?"

He looked up from the ground and met your eyes with an intensity that made your smile falter. Your heart began to race as he took a step closer, and almost instinctively you moved to him.

He raised a hand to the side of your face and tucked your hair behind your ear. Then he let his hand fall to your cheek where he stroked it gently and lightly brushed your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. You sighed and leaned into his touch, raising a hand to his and holding it just where he cradled your face.

"I fear it," he started as he looked over your face, committing every detail of it to his memory, "because you will not stay. And you are not mine."

"Now is not then," you whispered, "If you want me, Aemond...then I am yours."

With that, he leaned down, his lips hovering over yours as he paused to take in your scent – sweet and earthy – before capturing them in a kiss. He knew that after this there was no returning to what once was. There would be no 'forgetting' this time. He knew this, and he eagerly accepted it.

His hands gripped your waist. You pulled him closer, wanting – no, needing to disappear into him. His scent, his touch, his kiss. It was dizzying, euphoric, and you fell into him happily.

"We must stop," you breathed between kisses, "Anyone could find us."

Aemond didn't respond as he chased your lips fervently.

"We must stop," you repeated, this time gently pushing away from him. You stopped to gather your thoughts, one hand pressed against his heaving chest. You could not look at him, no. If you did, you feared you would not leave this room again.

"We ought to return to the table," you said as you began walking to the door, "You and I have been gone for too long, they will begin to search for us."

You waited by the door until you heard Aemond's footsteps follow behind you. He stopped beside you, one hand on the door handle.

"You'll stay this time," the familiar lilt at the end of a question being asked was missing, but the hesitance in his voice and the pleading look in his eye showed he was asking.

You slipped your hand into his, just as you had done so many times as children, and with conviction answered, "I promise."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time you returned to the dinner table, most of the food had already been cleared away. Luke, Jace and your sisters were dressed in their cloaks and being escorted outside by the guards while your father and Rhaenyra spoke to Alicent and Otto.

You shared a confused glance with Aemond before approaching the four.

“What is happening?”

Your father's head snapped up at the sound of your voice. “Come,” he motioned you over, “Your things are already in the carriage outside.”

“In the carriage?” you frowned, “What for? Where are we going?”

Rhaenyra sighed heavily, "Back to Dragonstone."

“But we've only just arrived,” you chuckled, "Why the hurry to leave?"

An answer was not given, but Rhaenyra's quick glance over your shoulder to Aemond said it all.

“We never intended to stay long,” she offered instead.

Your father motioned you over once again, “Say your farewells then go and get Senryr.”

The request came out like a man ordering his pup to fetch his shoe. He had no sympathy for the position he was forcing you into yet again, and did not care to pretend to show compassion to you. His daughter. It did nit make you sad, it made you angry.

“No.”

Daemon reacted as though you had just slapped him across the cheek.

“What?”

You stepped back to stand by Aemond's side. “I said no,” you repeated, jutting out your chin, “You cannot make me leave, Father. Not again.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I am not asking, Y/N,” he spoke slowly, “You will do as I say.”

It used to terrify you when he spoke in that intimidating tone, even though you knew your father would never harm you.

Perhaps that knowledge is what gave you the courage to say, “I am not leaving.”

Daemon was not often challenged, especially not by his children. He'd known from a young age that of all his children, you had inherited the worst of his temper. Your defiance was not only aggravating, it was insulting.

He stepped towards you, but before he could take another, Aemond moved in front of you protectively. The bold action stunned everyone in the room — including yourself.

Aemond was a good few decades younger than Daemon and therefore little challenge to your father. His wordless threat only indicated one of three things: stupidity, arrogance, or...

You ignored the suspicious looks thrown between you and Aemond as you placed a hand on his arm and squeezed it gently. He broke his stare down with your father and looked down at you. Upon seeing the pleading look in your eyes, he stepped back to your side but remained close enough that your arm was still brushing against his.

Daemon was seething. He could see what was happening right before his eyes. Many years back when you'd refused to return to Dragonstone, it was because of Aemond. All those proposals you had turned down were because of Aemond. Even your excitement to return to King's Landing – it was because of Aemond.

He'd known all along, but he'd never spoken it aloud, thinking it beneath him to even entertain the idea that his eldest daughter cared for a Hightower – be him Targaryen or not. But how could he ignore it when it was being thrown in his face like this?

"He," he nodded his head to Aemond, "is the reason you want to remain here?"

Rhaenyra quickly stepped in to diffuse the situation. "There is no need for this," she looked directly at you as she spoke before turning to Alicent, "I will see the children back to Dragonstone, then I shall return on dragon back."

That barely seemed to satisfy Daemon. And if Rhaenyra was suggesting that she could return and convince you to leave, she would be in for a surprise. Alicent was the only one who seemed happy with this solution. She embraced Rhaenyra with a regretful smile as Daemon walked towards you.

Your body stiffened as he approached. He glared at Aemond before looking down to address you, "You may not have to choose today, but you will soon."

He gave you a long look before placing his hand on the hilt of Dark Sister and turning to leave the room. Deep down, you knew he was right. Your Uncle was fading fast, and once he was gone, lines would be drawn and sides would have to be chosen. You only hoped that you had some time before then.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was difficult to part with your sisters after growing so close over the years. You would miss not having them around, but you knew they would never stay. They still hated Aemond for what happened that fateful night years ago, and neither could understand why or how you were able to forgive him. You didn't know how to tell them that to you, there had been nothing to forgive.

You remained by Aemond's side as Alicent showed you to your chambers, each of you like the other's shadow. Alicent was walking ahead of you and when she noticed you trailing behind, she stopped and turned to look at you both.

She raised a brow as she looked between you. "Aemond, I believe your room is down the other way," she pointed to the hallway leading in the opposite direction to where you were heading.

Aemond glanced at the hallway, then to you, and back to his mother. He seemed lost.

She ushered him away, "You may have spent your younger years sleeping in each others' beds, but there will be no more of that."

He nodded once and gave you a final look before walking off to his own chambers. You followed Alicent to the end of the hall where you parted ways at your room.

She was barely gone two minutes when you heard a knock at the door. You knew who it was before you even opened it. Aemond stood there under your door frame, his shoulders hunched slightly, no doubt feeling guilty for defying his mother.

You didn't say a word, you simply stepped aside to let him in. He kicked the door closed with his foot and moved closer, his knuckles brushing against the back of your hand.

"I want to sleep here with you. If you'll have me."

You turned and walked to a table at the other end of the room. You removed your bracelets, earrings and necklace and placed them on the table. Brushing your hair to the side, you looked over your shoulder at Aemond.

"Can you help me with these laces?"

He looked unsure at first before following you. His fingers trailed along your hip before finding the two laces and undoing them for you. There was a pause as he debated what to do next, then he stepped away and sat down on your bed just by your pillow.

You chuckled to yourself at his level of restraint and removed the sleeves of your dress, letting it fall to your feet. Stepping out of the dress, you could feel Aemond’s eyes on you as you removed the pins and ties in your hair and placed them on the table by your jewellery. There was no seduction in your actions. You were simply undressing, and he was simply watching you do it.

When you turned to look at Aemond, he had already kicked off his shoes and was now leaning against your headboard. He sat up when he saw you approaching, his gaze never wavering. There was so much love in his eyes, but it didn't make you shy, it made your heart race. You stopped when you were standing between his legs, resting your arms on his shoulders.

“How come you let your hair grow so long?” you asked as you ran your hand through his long, white locks. He didn’t answer, however. His eye was focused on something else.

His hand slid the hem of your slip higher up your thigh as his brow furrowed in concern. “What caused this?” he asked as he traced his fingers over two jagged scars on your knee and up your thigh.

“Senryr,” you sighed at the feeling of his touch, “She clawed me when I went to claim her. Tore my favourite dress to shreds.”

“Why did you go alone?” he asked, tracing higher to the very tip of the scar on your hip, “She could have killed you.”

You smiled as you looked down at him. “You claimed Vhagar alone,” he looked up at you as you gently stroked his jaw with your finger, “Perhaps if you’d been there to teach me, she never would have hurt me.”

He laughed then. A low, quiet one, but a laugh nonetheless. It lit up his entire face and made his eye sparkle. You felt your heart swell at seeing him so happy, so content.

You climbed over him and into the bed, slipping underneath the blanket, "Are you going to undress?"

He shook his head and climbed in after you, "I'm comfortable like this."

He lay facing you, his arm resting on your waist as he drew circles on the small of your back over your satin slip. You raised a hand to his cheek and touched the bottom of his scar.

"It wounded me when you ignored me today," you said to distract yourself from the question you wanted to ask.

Aemond chuckled, "That was the intention when I did it."

You rolled your eyes and giggled, but your gaze returned to his eyepatch. What did it look like under there? Aemond noticed your furrowed brows and understood what was playing on your mind.

Your hand hovered over the eyepatch, "May I?"

After a moment's hesitation, he nodded quickly, and removed it before he could change his mind.

A deep blue gem in the place where his left eye used to be. A sapphire, glimmering in the candlelight.

"Beautiful," you whispered absentmindedly as you stroked his cheek just below the sapphire eye.

He softened and pulled you closer to him, placing a light kiss on your lips. You curled into him and tucked your head under his chin, releasing a deep sigh.

Aemond's hand found yours under the blankets, and he smiled when you threaded your fingers together. There wasn't much he wanted to say. He just needed to be here with you, listening to your quiet breathing and feeling your heartbeat against his chest.

[sillylil-sideblog]

I had this idea for a Lucifer x Reader. It was inspired by @annwe24 ‘s Sugar Daddy Fic (Which I love so far btw!! ❤️)

To put it simply it was Lucifer falling in love with the Reader at first sight, and with some slightly-misguided advice from the Hotel Residents, had began going to dinner with them & doing stuff for payment, since I think he’d like to use his money as a gift-giving love language. Though, the way he does it is rather wrong, and is perceived badly by the reader. So after a while, they finally talk.

It isn’t the full idea really, but it is a snippet of it. :] I haven’t really written fics before so I’m pretty proud of it.

Let me know if you guys like it ^^ or if there’s any tips you got.

(I’m sorry if it’s not very good, this is the byproduct of a 1am idea & those typically don’t of well ^^;)

MENTIONS: Hella angst, mentions of sex, reader has four arms (because they’re cool)

———————————————

“… I can’t do this anymore, Lucifer.”

Lucifer’s concentration lifts up from his half-unbuttoned shirt, his eyes shifting to Y/N with a puzzled expression.

“Why, w-whatever do you mean, darling?”

Y/N’s back was turned away from him, head looking down as their upper hands froze at hem of their skirt.

“Oh! Did ya want to try something new tonight? I’m happy for any suggestions, you know I’m not against much, my dear—“

“No, Luci, I… I-I mean all of this. Our arrangement. It’s done.”

Lucifer turns his body slightly to face them, his brows slightly furrowed as his hands gently moved from his shirt’s middle button.

“Everyday it’s the same dry conversation… the same restaurant, the same sex, the same paycheck, the same cold silence that befalls my apartment each night, the same crimson jewelry— which isn’t even my favorite color, by the way! I don’t remember saying crimson was ever my favorite…”

Y/N turns at their comment of the jewelry, a hand grazing the bejeweled necklace that laid across their neck.

“W-WEHell… uhm… why didn’t you say so, my love! W-We could’ve always went somewhere else, y’know! And I could get you something else, w-whatever you’d like, dear! N-No need to get so upset—“

Lucifer replied, an air of confidence, not reassurance, that plagued his voice in his last few words and stung through their heart. Their hidden, glaring eyes shut as their muscles tightened.

“It’s baby yellow, by the way.”

“…Wh—“

“I like how warm and light it is, like if a loving hug were a color. And I’ve always hated fancy restaurants because I’ve never seen the appeal of spending hours dressing up to go to a place and spend over 100$ for like a 4 ounce salmon; and for what? Just for some prissy pathetic snobs to give me the side eye for not knowing which of the fucking dozens of forks to use?”

They lectured, body fully facing him now, eyes staring practically into his very soul.

“I prefer thunderstorms over clear skies. Tea over coffee. Cats over dogs. I rarely, if ever drink alcohol because I hate its bitter taste and the warm feeling it pulses in my ears; and I hate who I am when i’m tipsy. It’s why I never smoke, or never did drugs, either. Not because I wanted to be better, but because I didn’t want to become worse. Because I didn’t want to fucking atrophy like everyone else has in this god-forsaken place and lose who I am to people who don’t care about me.”

Y/N clutched the fabric of their dress tightly, tears pricking their eyes as their voice cracked, but they continued on. Their words became louder and stronger with each syllable. Though it broke as their tears fell, eyes now softened as they stared upon a shocked Lucifer standing near the foot of his bed.

“...I am not going to lose myself again. And I can’t let you take that from me.”

“S…S-Sweetheart, what are you saying—“

Lucifer pleads with a heave of his breath. He’s focused now; palms gripping onto air as his gaze shifts so chaotically as if trying to break their hardened gaze. Y/N slowly step over to the wrapped present, cradling it gently in their grasp. Their eyes stiffen at the sight of it as a sigh escapes their lips. After a pause, they looks up, turning their face to Lucifer’s. His eyes were wide; and Y/N swore they saw the red tones in his eyes shift like a whirlpool as his surprised, almost scared expression were fixated on them.

“..This box contains all the money you’ve given me in these past few weeks...”

As Y/N’s lower arms support the box, their upper ones slowly lift up to unclip the dark crimson necklace that was freshly placed on their neck before. They then lift up the lid, and slide the necklace inside. Lucifer’s eyes sharply follow as it slips into the box. His heart sank at the sound of it clanking among the other jewelry inside, tears threatening to fall across his porcelain skin.

“…And all the jewelry you have ever gifted me.”

Lucifer stared at the box in bewilderment.

“W-Why… Y-You don’t need to give that back, that’s yours— a-and there more to come we— *huff* We don’t have to do it tonight, we can do whatever you’d like, and we’ll go to dinner again.. t-tomorrow, and…”

They look at him with a softened gaze, but not one in love, but in acceptance; A simple, bittersweet realization behind such bright eyes. A look that killed him inside. Because he knew what it was.

“…Thank you for this opportunity. And I hope you find someone better worth your time.”

They spoke, their tone soften now as they gently grabbed their things and put their hand on the doorknob. As Lucifer heard the click of the lock his tears finally broke out of their prideful cage, as he swiftly made his way over to them and grabbing them by the hand.

“Swee- Y-Y/N, please. I-I never meant to do that, any of that! We don’t h-have to go back there again, I’ll give you light yellow jewelry a-and whatever you desire, there’s nothing I can’t do, please! I-I’ll be better this time, better for you!”

Y/N looks down at Lucifer as he’s on his knees, pitch black arms practically gripping onto their gloved hand like he will fall into the vaccum of space if he doesn’t. Golden tears fall down his face in an almost bittersweet rhythm, his eyes swirling in sorrow and shame and he looks up to them as if for salvation. Their muscles relax, but their gaze doesn’t falter.

“Just please don’t go.”

They remain there for a few seconds; a few seconds that felt like such a stabbing eternity. As if you could feel the weight of 10,000 years upon its air. As if it were there before. They take his hand, slowly, up to their face.. and gently place a kiss upon his soft knuckles. A small, light tear streams down their face as their eyes close in earnest. They slowly lift their head up, and look down upon Lucifer with a firm glare once again.

“…Goodbye, your majesty.”

They let his hand slip gently through their fingers as they open the door and step out of his room, closing it with a swift shut behind them. Lucifer’s hand remained there, outstretched, as his ears wailed at the sound of their fading footsteps.

Y/N strutted down that darkened hallway, the moonlight shining down from the windows slowly fading from their form. As they walked towards the mansion door, the tears finally broke, streaming down their face as they undauntedly marched forward; and opened the door.

————————

[fiona-fififi]

Of Coffee and Crushes

Rating: G

Fandom: 9-1-1

Pairing(s): Evan Buckley/Tommy Kinard, Pre-relationship Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Summary: Buck asks Tommy out for coffee, but he orders Eddie's usual. 7x05 extended scene.

Notes: Inspired by this random thought I had after rewatching the episode a dozen times yesterday.

911 spoilers, canon compliant to 7x05, Pre-relationship buddie, fluff, extended scene

—

Ao3 Link

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They sit quietly for long moments after Tommy’s agreed to join Buck for the wedding, Buck's hand a pleasant weight on Tommy’s own, and their matching grins never wavering. It feels good, Tommy thinks, to just exist in the same space. He feels a little infatuated with the way Buck smiles so sweetly and lets himself be vulnerable—all the walls he'd built up before crumbling down to let in the bright joy Tommy’s realizing the kid radiates so much of the time.

It's a good feeling.

But nothing lasts forever, Tommy thinks, so he's not entirely surprised when Buck’s smile falters a bit and he pulls his hand back to busy himself sipping at his coffee. He has something to say. Tommy can see it in the way he can't seem to sit still, hands in constant movement and leg clearly bouncing beneath the table. Tommy waits him out.

“So, uh, I—” Buck takes a stuttering breath finally, trying to calm himself as his expression shifts into something that looks unsure again “—I told Eddie.”

That takes Tommy by surprise. He's not sure he'd expected the kid to open up that quickly after the debacle in the restaurant. “Did you?” he prompts, curious.

“Yeah, uh. Eddie's a really good guy,” Buck supplies, like Tommy doesn't know.

Tommy huffs a little laugh at that and nods along as he says, “yeah. Yeah, he is.”

He means it to be reassuring, but Buck bristles a bit at that—just a brief tensing of his shoulders that he shakes off as quickly as it comes. But Tommy catches it. Snaps his mouth closed to let Buck continue and makes a mental note that Eddie might still be a sensitive topic where Tommy’s concerned.

Once Buck gathers himself, he continues, again settled back into the soft, open demeanor he'd started with, and Tommy watches him curiously as he smiles and says, “yeah, he's the best. And I got in my head over it, because I can't lose him, you know? Eddie and Christopher are just. they—they're really important to me, you know?”

Tommy hums in agreement and nods. Doesn't dare interrupt again as Buck spills half of his heart into the space between them. 

“I just. Eddie's always been there for me. Even, uh, even when he had every reason to turn his back on me,” Buck confides. And Tommy’s not entirely sure what's opened the floodgates, but he's simultaneously grateful and increasingly suspicious that Buck might be subconsciously laying claim to Eddie and everything they have after Tommy’s misguided interruption. “I should have known that it would be okay, and I should have just been honest with him then and there, and I am so sorry that I made everything weird the other night.”

Ah, Tommy thinks, a little amused, another apology, then. The kid is sweet, even if he could use a little more confidence.

“Listen, Evan,” Tommy tries, all warmth to try to put him at ease, “I get it that you weren't ready to tell him. And, yeah, it was a lot to take in with exactly how you tried to lie around it, but you don't need to justify yourself to me or defend Eddie.”

Buck looks a little sheepish, then, picking at the lid of his coffee, the plastic making little popping noises every time he flicks it with a nervous finger. “Yeah?”

“Frankly,” Tommy starts, a hint of amusement in his tone, “I don't think there are many of us who would have come out to anyone in a crowded restaurant while on a first date. Seems like a lot.” 

Buck laughs genuinely at that, like it's finally hitting him that, yeah, maybe the run-in at the restaurant wouldn't have been the place to do it, and Tommy can't help the way warmth blooms in his chest at just how sweet and loving and a little bit silly the man before him is.

For a few moments, they're quiet, then. Buck ducking his head in embarrassment, even while that sweet smile stays firmly in place, and Tommy sipping at the terrible coffee Buck had bought him. There's no tension in the moment—the nervous energy Buck had brought to their first date out of fear of being found out now replaced with a different kind of nervous energy. One that feels an awful lot like a kid with a crush, and Tommy can't even judge him for it because he thinks he's feeling it, too.

“So,” Tommy finally finds his voice, changes the subject to something that feels a little lighter and safer because he likes the way his stomach is filled with butterflies and the way Buck's smile kind of takes his breath away, and they don't need any more heavy apologies. So he asks, all curiosity, “is this your usual order?” as he eyes the scrawl on the cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup. It looks decidedly different from what's on Buck's.

“Uh—no,” Buck admits a little flustered at the change in topic, “n-no, it's uh, it's Eddie's, actually.”

“hmm,” Tommy hums, pressing his lips together and letting an eyebrow quirk just a little as he examines the coffee sleeve a little closer, “not sure I would have pegged Eddie as a cream and sugar kind of guy.”

Buck stays quiet but nods with a fond smile, picking at the cardboard seam on his own cup. Tommy can't quite see the markings on Buck's own cup clearly enough to read them, but he's curious now.

“Why Eddie's?” Tommy asks, fond smile still in place because if nothing else the kid is adorable—just a bundle of excitement and nerves—and Tommy knows he should probably give him a break, but he kind of likes riling him up.

“Uh,” Buck blinks, tilts his head and scrunches his brow like he’s not sure. Then, after a moment, he shrugs, “I don't know. Felt weird to get you my regular order, you know? And you, uh, you and Eddie have a lot in common, right?”

“So you figured we'd have the same coffee order?” Tommy laughs, genuinely amused, and it makes Buck smile wide. The kid's got an excellent smile.

“O-kay, laugh it up,” Buck retorts, grin widening and brightening up those pretty blue eyes even further. Tommy thinks he might be a little smitten. “It was the first one that came to mind.”

“Mmm, okay,” Tommy presses his lips together around the toothy smile he suddenly realizes he's still wearing. Can't give himself away altogether on a second date. Knows, still, that Buck can see the glimmer of fond amusement in his eyes. “So, you do a lot of the coffee runs for the 118, then?”

“Wh—” Buck looks confused, shakes his head and blinks until suddenly it looks like the implication sinks in and he stutters his way through a nervous response. It's sweet. “Uh, no. No, uh, actually, I have a-a terrible memory for coffee orders. So, uh, I'm usually last pick.”

“But you know Eddie's.” Tommy can feel the way the corner of his mouth tips up in an amused smirk. Tries hard to play it off.

Buck blushes and ducks his head again like he’s been caught. Rubs at the back of his neck and tries to gather himself, even as the pink of cheeks spreads to his ears. Looks like he's trying to find a response that won't give him away.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do know Eddie's,” he finally settles on, lifting his eyes to meet Tommy’s. It feels a bit like a challenge. “But I'd like to know yours, too.”

Tommy nods. There's still a fond smirk tilting his lips, and he knows—he knows —he probably shouldn't be getting attached here. That there's something more to the best friendship Buck keeps claiming for himself and Eddie like he’s trying to convince himself of something. And Tommy’s not sure if Buck knows yet, if he's realized the challenge he's just issued.

And Tommy knows he won't win. Knows that whatever it is Buck and Eddie have is the lasting kind.

But hell, it never hurt to have a little fun.

—

[reashot]

Surprise! It's all just a dream.

This is sequel to you know what...

Jaune: No Ruby... *mumbling in his sleep* No Ruby, don't marry him. I know Oscar is a great guy and all, but please don't go through with it.

Ruby: Oh did you have a bad dream. *playfully ruffle Jaune's hair* There, there.

Jaune then snatches Ruby's hand while he still in his sleep.

Ruby: Jaune?!

Jaune: No! Please don't go. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for never noticing your feeling. I'm sorry for being such a dumb dense doo doo head for all those years.

Ruby: Well, at least you finally realized it. I can't believe it took you this long.

Jaune: No please, Ruby please no....

Ruby: Oh Jaune. Here let me help you. *grabs blanket*

Jaune: *mumble* Ruby please don't leave me...

Ruby: Oh Jaune... I promise I will never leave you.

Jaune: *wakes up* Huh. Ruby did I say something in my sleep?

Ruby: No you slept like a log.

Jaune: Oh, okay then. I could have sworn that I just confessed to you.

Ruby: W-what makes you think that?

Jaune: I guess it's just a dream... But anyway. Ruby do you want to go out with me?

Ruby: *gasp* Really!? *cough* I mean, if I may ask. What brought this on?

Jaune: I guess... I just don't want to wait around anymore. And Ruby I love you...

Ruby: (Screaming internally) Yes Jaune! Yes.... Wait, wait, wait. When you said you love me do you love me as a friend or do you love me, love me?

Jaune: I guess it's my fault for being so indecisive for so long. Ruby, I want to apologize first before hand for what i'm about to do.

Ruby: Apologize for what?

She is then surprised by what happened. Jaune quickly grabs both of her wrist and push her down so he is now on top of her.

Jaune: Does this answer your questions?

Ruby: Jaune what's gotten into you?!

Jaune: I had a dream. Where I saw you in the arm of another man. I said to myself that as long as you're happy, I can be happy with it too. But it's a lie. When I see you smiling happily with someone other than me. I felt something died inside of me. Ruby. I don't like it... I don't like it when I see you with being in love with someone else. And I don't like it that deep down I have this feeling. If you aren't all mine, I can't stand it.

Ruby can't believe what she's hearing. Jaune finally letting out what's bottling inside of him. Looking up she can see him trembling and while it faint she can sees him starts crying on top of her.

Ruby: Jaune. It's okay. What you're feeling is normal. It just means you Love me so much that you want me to only be with you.

Jaune: But it's wrong thing to do, it's selfish and kinda sexist to say that I want you for myself... Anyway, I shouldn't have said that.

Ruby: Oh Jaune. I wish you stop with that misguided moral of yours. What if tell you that I like it when you think of me like that?

Jaune: Ruby are you sure?

Ruby: Yes Jaune. Contrary to what you might think there are woman that like being wanted like that. It made us felt cherished and valued. So don't fret with what society might think and just follow your heart... And I should do too. Jaune I love you too.

Jaune: Ruby I...

Ruby: Now kiss me lover boy.

The two finally kisses each other for the first time. Their lips stuck to each others that it felt like an eternity. At last the two finally joined to one another.

Ruby's Version:

Ruby: No Jaune, no don't...

Jaune: Aww... Ruby is having a nightmare. Here let me rub your head. I hope it help you out a bit.

Ruby: Jaune how could you... With my own sister.

Jaune: Oh Yang seems to be there with me as well. I wonder what we're doing that caused Ruby to react like this?

Ruby: And my own mother too... Am I not enough for you?

Jaune: With Summer too. And what do you mean by enough, Ruby?

Ruby: No. How could you say such a thing to me Jaune... How could you hurt me like this...

Jaune: Wait-what did I say to Ruby in her dream?

Ruby: Blake, Weiss. What are you doing here?.. Why are you joining my sis and my mom in his bed?

Jaune: They're doing what in my bed???

Ruby: J-Jessica what are you doing here? You're not even part of our franchise... You're just a one-off crossover character. Go back to DC.

Jaune: Who's Jessica?

Ruby: No... H-how could you do all of them in front of me... Stop making that face mom... Yang get off from on top of him... Weiss don't put Jaune's thing in your mouth... Blake stop purring when he is doing you... And Jaune please don't say you think Jessica is better than me...

Jaune: What on Remnant is going on inside Ruby's dream. What am I doing with all of them in my bed?

Ruby: Okay that's it. I'm joining in I don't care about what will happens any more... He, he, he Jaune it's finally my turn....

Jaune: I-I think I better leave you alone in your sleep... Sweet dream Ruby.

[beyonsatan]

How to spot an amateur astrologer who's misleading you and doesn't know as much as they're letting on 🤏

Some people that read this are gonna think I'm being toxic or a bit excessive and that's fine, not that what other people think even matters anyways but...I just don't like when ppl are getting scammed and lied to and also because alot of people charge (way more than I do) for readings and it's alot of misinformation that gets around with these readings and money in additional to time is being wasted so I see this as me doing people a favor. I'm going to go over some things only a person who has absolutely no knowledge of astrology beyond social media will do

• they associate the outer planets, neptune, uranus and pluto with the signs aquarius, pisces and scorpio. This is like the most obvious sign and I talk about it so much not just on here and because the outer planets change signs every decade or so, they're generational planets, not personal ones so think long and hard about what "personal" even means and then get back to me. It isn't really fair to assign the signs I listed above to planets that aren't personal and then to assign the rest of the other signs to the inner planets that reveal so much more about our daily lives than the outer ones do, it just seems so elitist to me honestly and overall misleading. The signs themselves literally rule over certain aspects of our life and they get their meaning from their traditional rulers. Aquarius being an outcast ? That comes from saturn not uranus, pisces being spiritual gurus with lots of love to give, that's from jupiter not neptune, Scorpio being a sexual sign that confronts us with our trauma, weaknesses and mortality? That comes from mars 😫

• 90% of their posts begin with "astro observations." This one especially I think is gonna upset some people because it's all you'll run into across astrology Tik tok or like I said even on here and everyone eats it up because they get an ego boost off of these posts that don't offer anything real or helpful in your everyday life but I wanted to say that a lot of these posts are just so surface level from the observations down to the critiques especially since so many speak from a personal place and arent objective enough about it. You'll read things like "moon in the 2nd house can indicate you like savory food" which even if that were true there's so many other things to consider with that placement like what it's aspecting, what sign is it in, is it fallen etc, if they're not elaborating on why and where they read this, it's null and void and they're making up shit as they go like i'm actually ROTFL as I type this 🤣

• they associate the houses with certain signs. Among everything I listed before and after this, this is probably THE most misleading one because I've had so many people come to me thinking that they had an exalted venus because their venus was in the 12th house and I really don't mean to laugh when people tell me this but hearing this did give me one hell of a chuckle ☠️. This idea that the signs have some proximity to the houses (like i mentioned in a previous post) is what created the grounds for people to think pisces is this misguided damsel in distress junkie who has no sense of direction and is more likely to fall victim to a drug habit which is just not true. Having alot of planets In this house is an indicator of partial drug use or habitual however having planets in pisces in NOT, like it's not even similar a little bit 💀💀💀 people keep getting pisces meaning from neptune and the 12th house and it's a mistake westerner astrologers especially Americans continue to make and it plays a role in why astrology is so ridiculed. Just like having personal planets in the 1st house isn't like having planets in aries because the 1st house isn't even the joy of mars, its the joy of mercury which finds exaltation in Virgo. Sounds familiar to you guys?

• they give devised meanings to "empty houses." What I mean by this is when certain people teaching about astrology say things like "having an empty 2nd house means you will struggle with money" or "having an empty 3rd house means your academic performance will be poor." This is not something that they read up about, learned with a teacher or on their own, this is something they're making up as they go. I would never tell a client that "your empty 1st house means you don't exist and lack an identity" because that's just illogical. Empty houses do not mean anything at all lmao. When houses are empty you look at what planet is ruling that house and what house that planet is in to get an idea of how that empty house is being served in the horoscope. It is impossible to have planets in every house and there are going to be at least 2 empty houses in a horoscope

Ps: i'm not looking down on anyone for choosing to believe these things, I used to be like everyone else just learning everything about astrology online instead but if you're anything like me, at some point your curiosity is gonna get the best of you and make you ask these people where they are learning this stuff from, who is their teacher and where are THEY learning these things from, what books do they read, you know what I mean? I just want people to know the truth and who they're learning from. You can continue to believe the things that alot of self proclaimed astrologers teach their audience because i broke through a facade, that's fine but I'm not concerned with "letting people enjoy things" in order to maintain feeding their delusions, the truth is meant to hurt

Hope this helps xx

[ccspostagebox]

Okay I'm just going to dump my thoughts here on Spooky Month 6 and it's ending.

SPOILERS BELOW.

Alrighty. So. From what I can tell and what others have already said, it was implied that Father Gregor had become a sacrifice for The Eyes after the cult practically threw him to the wolves.

However, I feel like there might be one of possibly two ways this goes.

1. He's actually been killed off. (And why I think that might not be likely. I am a death denier at heart </3)

* Since Father Gregor is starting to uncover aspects of the town that may begin to unnerve some of the residents there, it would be wise of them to get rid of him to prevent backstabbing and to prevent suspicions of what's really going on behind the scenes.

* Nobody seems to really trust Father Gregor except Skid and Pump (even though they do seem rather hesitant to trust him as well, said trust likely majorly broken when Moloch was turned to stone/dust.). And, well, nobody is going to bat an eye about a guy they barely know, right? However, this can create issues as the residents may be suspicious of where the "random guy" has gone.

*I suspect The Eyes may have a bigger part for Father Gregor to play in the cult or in the town, yet I cannot begin to speculate what that role may be yet.

2. He has been...changed.

*I personally feel like some people focus on the more physical aspects of being "sacrificed" when it comes to this scene near the end. While being a sacrifice can mean being physically slaughtered or killed, it can also mean giving up something of extreme value to you or surrendering, which is more on the mental or emotional side of things. I feel like Father Gregor may have been harmed partially physically, yet had the most damage done with "sacrificing" his own faith to surrender to The Eyes. This would be evident in his expression and body language. He is looking into the face of what is practically a god himself. If you were in his position and saw a being in much higher power and control than you, tell me you would not be scared shitless. I guarantee most of us cannot claim as such.

* In his body language, he doesn't really appear to me as if he is offering himself up to be killed. It seems more like an act of peace. He knows he cannot win with any use of protest or violence like he did with the demonic possessions of Moloch using the residents. He is getting on his knees and opening his arms as a sign of peace, a sign of surrender. This man has seen the face of God, and is not going to risk anything by a simple wrong move or action. It looks to me more like a plea for mercy, a plea for The Eyes to have a speck of pity for him. Dude is fucking terrified, and he knows that his plea may go fully unanswered as he is left to be lamb to the slaughter.

*In this absolutely beautiful credits art in the ending, it depicts Father Gregor clearly reaching towards The Eyes, as if seeking for help or assistance before he is possibly brought to Moloch's underworld. The contrast of the cult being a "heaven" vs Moloch's underworld being clearly "hell" makes me wonder if The Eyes may actually decide to have mercy on Father Gregor. He has clearly been shown to have mercy on the misguided and naive (E.g. Skid and Pump.), yet also displays traits of being poor on judgement of whom to "save" (e.g. Bob Velseb), making them practically insane by the end of their run or course. The way Father Gregor has wings and reaches for The Eyes makes me think that perhaps The Eyes plans to make him a secondary leader or main spokesperson for the cult. After all, even though nobody knows him that much, would you not take a highly respected man of a God's word as the truth? Many people, especially the residents of the town, may be much more likely to give into the cult's demands after its been "approved" by a man of faith.

Of course, these are just my thoughts, nothing is concrete. We can only go off of the tidbits we are given so far.