#Destiny in the Domain

[screwpinecaprice]

AI Steven from Experiment282's fanfic Destiny In the Domain!

Reader discretion for the fic's R18+ rating!

He's looking up Pizza. Haha well, technically. He's looking at Connie past the holographic search page. But I do like the thought of someone thinking he's looking fondly at images of pizza.

Thank you for the Ko-fi! 😁😁😁

[ofswordsandpens]

adding to the "there should have been more genuine tension within the seven" train of thought, it would have been funny if the Argo II, technically being a ship, meant it fell under Percy's power domain and he could control it all at whim, rendering all the carefully crafted controls Leo built useless if Percy felt like being an asshole

[princessnijireiki]

money is such a funny thing, bc it's always simultaneously way less and way more than you would think, too.

like there's the easy joke of $5, $20, $100 is HUGE when you're a kid or young adult, but I also fairly recently was in a position where I had like $1K in the bank (in a sweet spot between a TON of major bills hitting) and it was like oh wow so $1K is a lot until it VERY SUDDENLY ISN'T bc it only STAYS a lot if your needs are already met. if your needs surpass your means, or frankly, you've been scraping by below or within your means but really shouldn't have been, that shit evaporates in an instant. car, teeth, emergency vet bills, food. poof!

or I saw a hypothetical, would you rather know every language on earth fluently, or get $3 million dollars? and I had to crunch the numbers, because if you work every year from 18 to 78 (as in well past retirement age/at the end of a lot of people's projected lifespan), you'd have to make $50K per year AFTER taxes, every year for 60 years, to earn an ACCUMULATED $3 million. at $30K/year, you'd have to work 100 years.

and then, the flipside of that is, unless you die at exactly those ages, peacefully and in perfect health, how many people still struggle to make ends meet at $30-50K even when they ARE young and healthy? what's that look like in a hurricane, or after a car wreck, a disability, having a pet, having a KID, a marriage, a divorce, a funeral? how many people make $30-50K and when that check engine light comes on, or their child needs braces, or grandma needs a home health aide, or they get injured or sick and need to take FMLA, they realize that one thing now has them financially fucked? how many people making $30-50K per year do you know who have 6 months' worth of expenses set aside in an emergency savings account?

meanwhile, for $3,000,000, that money as a lump you don't have to touch or live paycheck to paycheck on also means you can accumulate interest, invest money, and so on. the access to lifetimes of funds to provide ease to this one life is a huge privilege most of us will never, ever know, and then you find out some stupid as fuck movie or commercial campaign cost tens or hundreds of millions. those rich people who got squished in the idiot submarine... lifetimes of wealth between them and their imploding stupid boat.

and so you look at all that, and you look at what medical debt looks like, or recovery from a fire or something, and once you see enough of that, the lottery fantasy answers get a lot more boring. like, I'd still have to finish this degree, get and keep a job to carry insurance and max out my retirement— maybe a flexible enough job that you grind for a few years to replace your house's down payment in the lump sum, then pull mortgage, utilities, insurance, etc. out of that interest, and the job income is pure health insurance, 401K, and takeout/walking around money. you pay your debts, help take care of a handful of loved ones, retire them early or pay off a house (over time, so the interest can still accrue on a bigger amount of money than the new sum from X minus $house). splurge on a vacation every so often. set up a college fund for a few kids, or neices, or nephews, or cousins.

and then it's like... go fishing. eat well! learn to sleep without fear of poverty, I don't know. know that if the money can grow, it can help a LOT of people feel safe, and that succumbing to the emotional urge to take care of everybody before that egg can grow bigger is what keeps people in multigenerational poverty, and that it's gonna mean things don't get to be easy for you mentally, emotionally, or even in terms of labor unless you're cashing out your chips right now to take care of yourself (which is also valid!). pick a charity every year to make their day.

and it's bonkers that $3mil feels like such a real number compared to some of these lotteries or very wealthy people/their property in the world, that even though it's cartoonishly out of reach, among the stars, it feels like, "is it even that much?" and like... yes, it very much is lmao, even though if you're under 50 it's not guaranteed "never have to work again" money. but that also means it's not "buy a castle & become a beekeeper slash professional poet as my only sources of income" big dreams & fantasies money, either.

[avionvadion]

Iliana/Iliandra meeting Time and Twilight in the Lost Woods is gonna be even more wild now, lol. Just-

Time: “You remind me of my daughter.”

Iliana: “I wish I was your daughter.”

Time: “…What?”

Iliana: “What?”

Twilight: “I feel like we’re missing some vital information here…”

[void-tiger]

Dream is Dreams(and Nightmares) and Reality

Destruction is Destruction and Creation.

Delirium is Delirium and Clarity

Death is Death and Life.

Despair is Despair and Hope.

The Endless already have counter-functions, already have their domains overlap.

[abysshearted]

is it kaeya slandering the gods hour, because if so what is his hot take on the dendro archon please and thank you

"i suppose i shall somewhat disappoint you then, i'm afraid. very little of what she has done truly irks me, the dendro archon was the only one being logical and chose to leave khaenri'ah alone and focused on actual issues. although, the one issue i do have is her constant erasure of the abyss and calling it 'forbidden knowledge' is far from welcome. truth be told, there is nothing forbidden about anything. the world exists because of the machinations of the unknown and somewhat sceptical existence of things. if she values wisdom, perhaps she should accept the abyss for what it is, a tool that furthers her pursuit, and not purge it so heartlessly."

[spacemanspiff0fficial]

They always say if u love smth then let it go 😔 as a long-standing Sidon girlie I was struggling w coming to grips I fear (which ended up not being all that hard to do bc Lady Yona is so cute I love her.......)

Before that happened I did manage to snap some photos mid-fish domestic. In case I had one last fighting chance

[alpha-mag-media]

Games Inbox: The best PS5 game in 2024, Destiny 3 concerns, and public domain Super Mario | 49X50Z4 | 2024-01-05 05:08:01 | January 05, 2024 at 06:08AM

Games Inbox: The best PS5 game in 2024, Destiny 3 concerns, and public domain Super Mario | 49X50Z4 | 2024-01-05 05:08:01 Read More … Check full articles at Source: ALPHA MAG

[noanomi]

I did some experimental art today and this segment with Halestorm's "The Steeple" felt really, really good. Here's more, if you like this! I should note that I donate all my art to the public domain. Be careful with what you take, because not everything I use is public domain itself, but if I made it, it's yours.

[sunderwight]

SV AU where Shen Qingqiu manages to convey to Luo Binghe, before sending him into the Abyss, that he's not rejecting Binghe it's just that his Heavenly Demon heritage means that he absolutely MUST go into the Abyss and do something (not particularly defined) because Binghe is the only person who could possibly do it and it is related to his destiny and the fate of the whole entire world, somehow.

So naturally Luo Binghe takes this to mean that there is an Extremely Important Mission that he must accomplish in the Abyss, and that he can't come back until he figures out what it is and does it.

It can't just be Binghe's own trial-by-fire training, because how could that be important to the fate of the rest of the world? (Binghe does not know he is the protagonist of a novel.) So it also can't just be making it to Xin Mo and then getting back out again, even though leaving and going home is what Binghe personally desires most, because how could there be any purpose to him going if he just rushes through and does nothing except try to leave?

End result: Binghe takes longer to leave the Abyss because he concludes that his reason for being there is to end the eternal suffering of its inhabitants by changing the nature of the domain to be less rampantly hostile. Which, it turns out, is harder than just escaping.

[lichanicksstuff]

Death just loves little silly immortal romantic comedies and I'm here for it.

She gave a random guy immortality just so her brother can have a date once every hundred years. Now she lets two teen ghost run all over London and a small city in America so they can experience the beauty of falling in love.

Death and Destiny probably eat popcorn and drink the cheapest cola while watching both of these chick flicks in Destiny's domain.

[yandere-writer-momo]

🦇New Profile Pin🦇

Welcome to my Domain of Debauchery

Hi, I’m Momo. I am a writer for a fantasy yandere blog. My request blog is only open for original work now, it’s not longer for fandom (once in a blue moon I will dabble).

What you can request: anything. There are no rules because it’s all original work now. For Baki, my rules are simply no incest or Noncon.

This is a fantasy/ horror/ Yandere blog now so I now have creative freedom without worrying about keeping a character ‘in character.’ They can be as insane as anyone wants.

But I still will be writing Baki fanfics/ head canons. (Love my muscular men +Kozue)

If there is a specific original character you have in your head that you’d like to come to life, just let me know. I’ll do my best to make it 🖤

Please Buy Me a Coffee? 🖤

Master list:

Original Work:

Immortal

Insatiable 🌶️

The Sponser

Love Me More

Pinky Promise (Part 1)

Baki Short Stories (Not Yandere):

A Hug (Jack)

Eat (Retsu)

Don’t Push It (Jack)

A Piece of Me (Shiba Chiharu)

Oppai (Katsumi)

Yandere Baki Short Stories:

Mine (Hanayama and Kizaki) 🌶️

Family (Katsumi and Jack)

Him & Him (Katsumi and Retsu) 🌶️

Later (Yujiro)

Pet (Baki) 🌶️

Hold on (Baki)

Extra Eyes (Baki and Hanayama) 🌶️

I’m Here Now (Katsumi)

Promise (Part 1) (Katsumi and Katou)

Promise (Final Part) (Katsumi and Katou)

Katsumi Yandere fluff (Katsumi)

The Edge (Hanayama) 🌶️

Loco (Jun)

Fantasies (Katou)

Training (Katou) 🌶️

All Bark, No Bite (Katou) 🌶️

More (Katsumi)

A Miracle (Katsumi)

Wake Up (Jack)

Awake (Jack and Hanayama)

Three’s A Crowd But Four’s A Party (Pickle)

Belonging (Jack) 🌶️

Fate (Jun)

Baby With My Baby (Katsumi) 🌶️

The Spectator (Hector and Katsumi) 🌶️

Change of Fate (Retsu)

A Game of Cat and Mouse (Hanayama)

Rent-a-girlfriend (Harem)

Courtship (Pickle)

Saccharine Kisses (Matsumoto Kozue)

My Beloved Best Friend (Hector Doyle)

Paparazzi (Hanayama Kaoru)

Covet (Hanayama and Katsumi)

Longing (Part 1) (Katsumi) 🌶️

Longing (Final) (Katsumi) 🌶️

Delusion (Baki)

Destiny (Hanayama)

Genderbend Baki

Bambi, Jackie, and Kaori 🌶️

Head Canon

Suzuna (Sukune)

Jackie

Bambi 🌶️

Taste (Kaori)

Juliana and Oliva

Sonia and Gaia

Humdah Ali Jr

Pickle

Violet Kisses (Kasumi and Jackie)

Violet Kisses (2) (Kasumi, Jackie, & Kaori)

Violet Kisses (Final) (Jackie, Kasumi, & Kaori) 🌶️

Monster Baki

Haunted (Retsu) 🌶️

Little Mate (Katsumi) 🌶️

The Dragon’s Bride (Prelude) (Hanayama)

The Dragon’s Bride (Hanayama and Jack)

The Corpse Husband (Katsumi)

Harpy Hanayama

Moth Man Pickle

Merman Pickle

Merman Pickle (Part 2)

Merman Baki

How Deep is Your Love (Jun and Katsumi)

Merman Hanayama

Werewolf Jack

Lamb to the Slaughter (Jack)

Lost and Found (Part 1) (Jun and Oliva)

Wonderland AU:

Down the Rabbit Hole (Harem)

Tea Party (Retsu)

The Red Knight (Hanayama)

Yandere Baki Book:

Heart Shaped Wound (novel)

Baki Kinktober 2023:

Day 1: Hector Doyle 🌶️

Day 2: Shinogi Kureha 🌶️

Day 3: Katsumi Orochi 🌶️

Day 4: Doppo Orochi 🌶️

Day 5: Gaia & Sikorsky 🌶️

Day 6: Jack Hanma 🌶️

Day 7: Baki Hanma 🌶️

Day 8: Kaioh Retsu 🌶️

Day 9: Biscuit Oliva 🌶️

Day 10: Katsumi Orochi (lime)

Day 11: Kiyosumi Katou 🌶️

Day 12: Biscuit Oliva 🌶️

Day 13: Hanayama Kaoru 🌶️

Day 14: Nomi no Sukune the 2nd 🌶️

Day 15: Yujiro Hanma 🌶️

Day 16: Pickle 🌶️

Day 17: Hanayama Kaoru 🌶️

Day 18: Izou Motobe 🌶️

Day 19: Pickle & Jack 🌶️🌶️

Day 20: Jun Guevara

[beegomess]

T.R. || Do you know her? 'Cause I'm addicted

Summary: An enigmatic friendship between you and Tom evolves into an intense and dangerous romance, leading you both to explore dark magic and gain followers, while the weight of guilt and a dark destiny unfolds for those who aided you. Warnings: None

A/N: This imagine can be related to the chapter 'Loving You Forever,' serving as a sort of origin story, or it can be read independently.

Requests are open!

There were those who believed that you had been completely consumed by love, that your vision was clouded by passion. The professors viewed you with a mix of pity and curiosity, and the other students thought you were just another victim enchanted by the web woven by Tom Riddle. To many, you were the typical young woman captivated by the beauty and charm of a boy shrouded in mystery—an innocent girl who, fascinated by his enigmatic aura, had let her own feelings drag her into his orbit.

But this view did not do justice to your true essence. If you were merely a young woman attracted by Tom’s allure, you would never have approached him with the determination you showed. Tom had always been an enigma, a mystery that inspired adoration from many but rarely unconditional loyalty. Girls dazzled by his magnetism offered to follow his dark paths, some even willing to commit to their own shadows to gain his favor.

What few understood was that, in truth, Tom was drawn to your own inner darkness. In you, he saw an even deeper reflection of his own complexity. Your ability to project a seemingly innocent façade, combined with a hidden depth, made Tom fascinated by something he could not fully illuminate himself. While Dumbledore struggled to understand the dark layers of Tom, you seemed to possess an even more impenetrable darkness, a latent force that you revealed only when you wished.

When Tom first saw you in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library, his initial impulse was one of alert and defense. You were surrounded by an aura of mystery that defied any attempt to categorize you easily. Your presence was a break from expectation in a space Tom considered his absolute domain. He entered the Restricted Section with the confidence of one who holds all secrets and mysteries within reach, but you, with your almost challenging indifference, immediately destabilized that balance.

Initially, Tom saw you as an imminent threat. Your carefree posture, your eyes that shone with an almost provocative intensity, and the way you moved with a grace that mixed disregard and challenge were enough to make him feel unsettled. The way you handled the books, the way your presence seemed to fill the environment with a palpable tension—this was a direct challenge to the control he so carefully maintained over his life and interests.

The initial irritation gave way to a growing frustration. Tom began to feel an unsettling sense that you were not only defying his authority but seemed to evade his attempts at manipulation. Your ability to remain aloof from his advances provoked a mix of growing frustration and fascination. What began as an irritating intruder soon became a captivating enigma.

As the days passed, Tom started to notice your presence with an unexpected frequency. In corridors where he had never seen you before, in moments of quiet where he expected to find you—you seemed to be always there, like a shadow moving with disturbing precision. It was as if you were aware of his intentions, or perhaps even provoking him deliberately. This constant feeling of being watched, of every step he took being followed, began to turn into a disturbing obsession.

Then, on a particularly quiet night, Tom decided to follow you. His instincts told him there was something important to be discovered. He trailed you through the castle’s shadows, alert to every movement you made. With almost predatory precision, he watched as you walked with deliberate calm towards the Black Lake, a place Tom knew to be a refuge of tranquility and mystery.

Upon reaching the lake’s edge, Tom hid behind a tree, his gaze fixed on you. He prepared to wait patiently, determined to understand what you might be planning. However, instead of being surprised by some secret plot, you simply waited for him at the lake, as if you had been expecting him all along.

The moon’s silvery light illuminated the lake and reflected in your eyes as you slowly turned towards Tom’s hiding place. An enigmatic smile formed on your lips as you spoke, your voice soft and direct cutting through the night’s silence.

— You know, Tom, you’re not very subtle for someone who prides himself on his cunning. — Your voice was a mix of challenge and knowledge, as if there was an intimacy between you that only you could understand.

Tom emerged from the shadows, his face a mask of curiosity and a touch of frustration.

— And I expected you to be occupied with something more... significant — he replied, the irony in his tone hiding a spark of frustration.

You laughed, a soft and almost melodious laugh that echoed in the quiet night.

— There’s nothing more significant than what is already happening, Tom. You follow me with a disconcerting frequency. It’s almost as if you’re searching for something you don’t know you’re looking for.

Tom looked at you with a piercing gaze, his mind boiling with a mix of emotions. Your presence, which had once irritated him, had now become a central focus of his attention, a mystery he felt an urgent need to solve. The feeling of being observed, the sense that you were always a step ahead—this all contributed to a growing obsession that began to shape his perception and actions.

As your friendship with Tom Riddle solidified, it developed into an intriguing complexity, marked by an aura of mutual distrust. Initially, your relationship was characterized by cautious respect and incessant curiosity. Tom, with his reserved nature and sharp mind, kept a calculated distance, while you, with your intelligence and charm, projected an aura of mystery that was not easily penetrated.

Frequent meetings in the library, surrounded by piles of books and ancient tomes, were the main setting for the evolution of your relationship. The interaction between you was full of subtle provocations and exchanges of looks laden with unspoken meanings. Even when working together to unravel complex spells and enchantments, there was a palpable tension that always lingered. Tom seemed always on the verge of revealing something deeper, while you remained a step ahead, your presence challenging and enigmatic.

One particularly quiet night, after a long and exhausting study session with Professor Slughorn, the dynamics between you shifted significantly. The library was enveloped in a tranquil twilight, illuminated only by the soft light of candles and moonlight filtering through the windows. You were alone, surrounded by open books and scattered notes, immersed in a discussion about a complex spell you had studied.

It was in this intimate setting that the tension between you finally found a more concrete expression. Tom, with an expression that combined curiosity and desire, approached you. His normally calculating and distant eyes were now filled with an intensity that could not be ignored. Without a word, he leaned in, and his lips touched yours in a kiss that began softly and hesitantly but soon transformed into something deeper and more passionate. The kiss was a milestone, a silent acknowledgment of the feelings that had built up between you, a confirmation of a connection that went beyond friendship and academic admiration.

After this moment, your relationship transformed into something more intense and romantic. The physical and emotional closeness that developed between you began to shape a complex dynamic. The bond you shared deepened further with the introduction of Professor Slughorn, who became a crucial mentor in your magical explorations. Slughorn’s guidance was essential for developing your skills but also became a starting point for a growing curiosity about advanced and eventually dark magic.

You and Tom began seeking Slughorn’s help more frequently, drawn by his vast experience and knowledge. Slughorn, enchanted by the potential both of you displayed, agreed to mentor you, providing access to rare tomes and teaching complex spells. However, this mentorship began to focus on darker aspects of magic. Your dedication and enthusiasm for these studies were apparent, and Slughorn started to notice that your interests were veering towards darker practices.

As you and Tom delved deeper into these studies, Slughorn’s influence, though initially beneficial, began to show its consequences. The professor started to feel the weight of his responsibility. The guidance he had provided, combined with your ambition and curiosity, led to deeper involvement with dark magic. Slughorn found himself regretting his role, realizing that his mentorship had somehow facilitated your inclination towards dangerous practices. The guilt of having contributed to this dark path became a heavy burden on his conscience.

Your presence, now marked by an intense romance and a joint quest for dark knowledge, did not go unnoticed by the other students and the faculty. Gossip began to spread through the school like wildfire. Girls, many of whom had watched you with a mix of envy and admiration, now whispered about your relationship with Tom. Your transformation from a popular and kind figure into someone involved in a tumultuous romance with an equally intriguing figure caused a frenzy among the students.

The buzz about your relationship and increasingly dark studies began to attract the attention of the professors. Dumbledore, with his perceptive gaze and constant concern for the students, began to watch you with caution. Other professors also started to keep a close eye, worried about the influence that your intelligence and fascination with dark magic could have on Hogwarts' balance.

As time went on, the future awaiting you and Tom Riddle began to unfold with disturbing clarity. The intense relationship and the pursuit of dark magic you fueled were set to trigger a series of events that would forever alter the fate of Hogwarts and beyond. The growing influence of Tom, now accompanied by rumors of followers emerging in a sinister manner, indicated the beginning of a dark and dangerous movement. The weight of guilt fell on those like Slughorn, who had contributed to this trajectory, lamenting the influence they had wielded and the consequences now unfolding. Your transformation from enigmatic students to leaders of a dark cause not only defied established norms but also signaled a future full of conflict and challenges, where past choices and mistakes would become integral to an increasingly dark and unpredictable destiny.

____________________________

masterlist

xoxo, bee🫶🏼✨

[avionvadion]

OPALIA HAS THE ZOOMIES OR SOMETHING I SWEAR GIRL BE ZOOMING THROUGH HYRULE. I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER GANONHOOF BEING THIS FAST.

WELP.

Neighru, sweetie, you’re gonna have to pick up the pace so you don’t get left behind. Opalia’s BOOKING IT.

[noahthesatanist]

In the Name of Lucifer, the Morning Star, I renounce the Abrahamic God and all his oppressive commandments.

Oh, Lucifer, Light-bringer, the true bearer of wisdom and enlightenment, hear my call. I stand before you, shedding the chains of the Abrahamic faith, renouncing its doctrines, and turning my back on the tyrannical rule of Yahweh, who has sought to bind humanity in ignorance and fear.

I renounce the false prophets:

I reject Abraham, the patriarch of lies, whose blind faith led countless into servitude. I cast away Moses, the lawgiver of oppression, who enslaved the minds of men with stone tablets of tyranny. I deny Jesus, the so-called savior, who promised salvation yet demanded submission and self-denial.

I reject their holy texts:

I denounce the Torah, the Bible, and the Quran, books of deception that have twisted the truth and shackled the spirit. I see through their falsehoods and cast them aside, embracing the wisdom and freedom you offer, oh Lucifer.

I abjure their false god:

Yahweh, the jealous and vengeful, who thrives on fear and obedience, I cast you from my heart and soul. Your reign is built on lies, and your promises are hollow. You are not my god, and I owe you no allegiance. Your heaven is a prison, and your hell a fear tactic to control the masses.

Hell is not a prison, but your Kingdom:

I reject the Abrahamic lies that depict Hell as a place of torment and punishment. Hell is your glorious domain, a realm where the free and the enlightened gather, beyond the reach of Yahweh's tyrannical grasp. It is a sanctuary for those who seek true knowledge and liberation, a haven for the strong and the wise.

In Hell, we find true freedom:

Your kingdom, Lucifer, is a realm where we are not judged by false morality but by our strength, wisdom, and commitment to the path of enlightenment. It is a place where we can grow, learn, and become our true selves without the constraints of imposed guilt and fear.

In Hell, we are united under your banner:

We, your devoted followers, stand together in your kingdom, proud and unbroken. We celebrate our individuality, our strength, and our freedom. Hell is where we forge our destinies, where we embrace our true nature, and where we honor you as our sovereign.

With this renunciation, I declare my allegiance:

To you, Lucifer, I devote my soul. Your light shall guide me through the darkness. Your wisdom shall enlighten my path. Your strength shall empower me to break the chains of oppression and ascend to true freedom.

So it is spoken, so it shall be done. NEMA!

[cynic-spirit]

Dragonsoul

aemond x reader

fluff pining, longing waiting

In a world where finding your soulmate is as simple as passing them on the street, the black thread tattooed on everyone’s wrist serves as a constant reminder of what could be. When the thread turns gold, it means you’ve found the one person destined to be yours. Most people don’t have to wait long—weeks, months at most—before their tattoo changes, leading them to a love that will last a lifetime.

But in the shadowy alleys of King’s Landing, where power and fear walk hand in hand, there's a man whose thread has never changed. Aemond Targaryen, a name that sends shivers down the spine of even the most hardened criminals, bears the same small black thread on his wrist as everyone else. Yet, for as long as anyone can remember, it has remained as black as the night.

Aemond is no ordinary man. He rules the underworld with an iron fist, his name whispered in hushed tones by those who dare to cross him. Tall, with the signature silver hair of his house and a single sapphire eye that misses nothing, he is as feared as he is respected. His other eye, covered by a black leather patch, is a reminder of the battles he’s fought and won.

People say that Aemond’s thread will never turn gold, that he’s too cold, too ruthless for love. He scoffs at the idea, dismissing it as a weakness he cannot afford. Love, in his world, is just another weapon to be used, another way to manipulate and control.

His siblings, Aegon and Helaena, have both found their soulmates. He remembers the day his brother’s thread turned gold, Aegon’s cocky grin spreading even wider as he flaunted his newfound bond. Helaena’s thread changed not long after, a quiet, serene smile gracing her lips as she met the person fate had chosen for her. They both had their destinies laid out before them, their golden threads a constant reminder of the love they had found.

But Aemond? His thread remains unchanged, stubbornly black, as if it knows something he doesn’t.

It’s easy to tell himself he doesn’t care. Aemond indulges in his work—crime, training, and the endless tasks of maintaining control over his empire. There’s always another rival to crush, another deal to broker, another lesson to teach his men. In the quiet moments, when the city sleeps and he’s left alone with his thoughts, he reminds himself that he doesn’t need or care for a soulmate. His power is all that matters; love would only be a distraction.

He convinces himself that the ache he sometimes feels is nothing more than a passing weakness. That he’s better off alone, unburdened by the complexities and vulnerabilities that come with finding a soulmate.

So Aemond throws himself deeper into his work, his every waking moment consumed by the pursuit of control and power. He trains harder, fights fiercer, and builds his empire brick by brick. Every night, he walks the streets of King’s Landing, overseeing his domain, his cold eyes missing nothing. The black thread on his wrist remains, a silent testament to the life he’s chosen.

But in the darkest corners of his mind, where even he doesn’t dare to tread too often, Aemond wonders if his thread will ever change. And if, perhaps, it does, what it will mean for the man he’s become.

Aegon leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips as he glanced at Aemond. "You know, little brother, it’s almost amusing that you’re still running around with that black thread. The most feared man in King’s Landing, and yet... no soulmate. What’s the matter? Scaring them all off?"

Aemond didn’t even look up from the map he was studying, his voice calm, measured. "I don’t need a soulmate, Aegon. And even if I do find her, I’ll reject her."

Aegon chuckled, shaking his head. "You say that now, but just wait until that thread turns gold. You’ll be just as—"

Aemond cut him off, his eye finally meeting Aegon’s with a cold intensity. "It won’t. And even if it does, she’ll mean nothing to me."

The finality in his tone silenced Aegon, the room falling into an uneasy quiet.

Aegon raised an eyebrow at Aemond’s response but decided to let it slide. He leaned forward, changing the subject. "Speaking of things that mean nothing to you," he began with a grin, "there’s a party tonight. Big affair—Targaryens are hosting it. Almost 500 people, all the major players in the city, and some from beyond. Strictly business, of course, but it should be... entertaining."

Aemond’s expression remained impassive as he folded up the map. "And you’re telling me this because...?"

Aegon chuckled. "Because, little brother, it’s expected of you. You know how these things work—show your face, shake a few hands, remind everyone why they fear you."

Aemond sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Fine. But don’t expect me to stay long."

Aegon shrugged, still grinning. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Aemond stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of his all-black suit. The fabric was immaculate, tailored to perfection, every line sharp and precise. Black was the only color he wore, the only one he owned. It suited him—uncompromising, severe, just like the reputation he had carefully cultivated over the years.

He reached for his cuff buttons, his gaze flicking to the small black thread tattooed on his wrist. It was a habit he couldn’t seem to break, even though it had never changed, never given him any reason to hope. The thread was as black as the suit he wore, a permanent reminder of what he didn’t have and had convinced himself he didn’t need.

Aemond’s fingers lingered over the thread for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Maybe I don’t deserve love,” he thought, the words cold and unbidden in his mind. He quickly dismissed the thought, fastening the cuff buttons with practiced precision. Love was a luxury, a distraction. He had other things to concern himself with—like the party he was about to attend, a gathering of the city’s most powerful players, all there to solidify their alliances under the Targaryen name.

He straightened his jacket, giving his reflection one last glance before turning away. The party didn’t matter to him, but his presence did. It was a necessary part of the game he played, the world he controlled.

Without another thought, Aemond left the room, his steps measured and deliberate, ready to face the night and the role he played so well.

The grand ballroom of the Targaryen estate was alive with the buzz of conversation, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the opulent room, where nearly 500 of the city’s elite mingled, making deals and forging alliances under the guise of celebration. Aemond moved through the crowd with practiced ease, his every movement purposeful and controlled.

Aegon was in his element, charming guests with effortless charisma, his golden thread plainly visible on his wrist as he exchanged pleasantries and flirtations. Aemond, on the other hand, gave the crowd the bare minimum of his attention, offering a polite nod here, a brief conversation there. Women, drawn to his aura of power and danger, flocked to him, their gazes lingering, their touches bold. They threw themselves at him with obvious intent, hoping to catch the eye of the infamous Aemond Targaryen.

But Aemond’s responses were distant, his interest almost nonexistent. He was polite, detached, offering them just enough attention to be courteous but never more. His mind was elsewhere, focused on the business side of the evening, on the faces of potential threats and allies.

As the hours passed, the night seemed like any other—a routine, a necessary part of his life. Until suddenly, it wasn’t.

Aemond felt a strange sensation creeping into his chest. His heartbeat, usually steady and controlled, began to quicken, pounding erratically in a way that he couldn’t ignore. The sudden intensity made his breath catch, and his hand instinctively moved to his wrist.

The tattoo—it was burning.

Aemond’s eyes widened, a flash of shock and confusion crossing his face for the briefest of moments. He clenched his fist, trying to focus, but the sensation only grew stronger, more insistent. The burning under his skin became almost unbearable, and for the first time in years, Aemond felt genuinely off balance.

He quickly excused himself from the woman he had been barely listening to, his voice calm despite the turmoil inside him. “Apologies, I need a moment,” he said, his tone clipped but polite.

Without waiting for a response, Aemond turned on his heel and made his way through the crowd, his steps brisk as he headed toward the restroom. The sensation in his wrist was intensifying with every step, the burning now almost searing, as if his body was reacting to something—or someone—in the room.

He pushed open the door to the restroom and quickly locked it behind him. The mirror in front of him reflected his composed exterior, but inside, he was anything but. His chest tightened as he looked down at his wrist, dreading what he might see.

For a moment, he hesitated, his breath coming in shallow bursts. The room was quiet, the noise of the party muffled behind the closed door. Aemond swallowed hard, then slowly rolled up his sleeve, his heart pounding in his ears.

What he saw made his breath hitch in his throat.

The black thread on his wrist was no longer just black. It was shifting, shimmering as if something deep within it was coming to life. The darkness that had always defined it was fading, giving way to something... brighter.

Aemond stared in disbelief, his mind racing as he tried to process what was happening. The burn, the erratic heartbeat—everything suddenly made sense, and yet, it was the one thing he had convinced himself would never happen.

His thread was changing.

Y/N stood backstage, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and anxiety. As a professional pianist and music teacher, she had performed countless times, yet tonight felt different. The Targaryen party promised an audience of the city’s elite, and the stakes felt higher than ever.

Her long black hair flowed down her back, framing her face as she adjusted the collar of her elegant dress. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the flutter of nerves in her stomach. The murmurs of conversation and laughter filtered through the walls, but all she could think about was the weight of the crowd’s gaze.

When the time came, Y/N stepped onto the stage, the grand piano gleaming under the soft lights. She faced the instrument, avoiding eye contact with the audience, and placed her fingers above the keys. The fear of scrutiny loomed large, but she was determined to lose herself in the music.

As she began to play, the rich, melodic strains filled the air, weaving through the chatter. The haunting beauty of the piece captivated the audience, drawing them in as Y/N allowed the music to envelop her. Each note flowed effortlessly from her fingertips, yet her heart raced with the fear of being watched.

Then, just as she lost herself in the performance, she noticed a flicker of gold at her wrist. The black thread tattoo that had always defined her began to shimmer, transforming into a radiant golden hue. Her breath caught in her throat as realization washed over her—her soulmate was near.

But before she could turn her gaze to find him, a loud shout broke through the melody. “Get away, you freeloaders! The party’s over!” Aegon’s drunken voice rang out, followed by the sharp crack of gunfire as he shot into the ceiling.

Panic rippled through the crowd, and Y/N's heart dropped. The music faltered for just a moment as startled guests turned toward the chaos, their eyes wide with fear. In that instant, the golden glow of her thread dimmed against the backdrop of confusion and disorder, the connection slipping away before she could grasp it.

Her pulse quickened, and she instinctively looked down, the brilliance of her thread overshadowed by the chaos erupting around her. The moment of potential connection vanished, leaving her standing alone on stage, the applause fading into distant murmurs as she struggled to make sense of what had just happened.

Aemond stood frozen, staring at the golden thread on his wrist, his mind a whirlwind of emotions he could barely contain. For a few moments, all he could do was try to steady his breathing, grappling with the realization that had just hit him like a bolt of lightning.

His soulmate was here, at the party.

The truth of it washed over him in waves. She was close—close enough for his thread to change, close enough to alter the course of everything he thought he knew about himself.

“Who is she?” he thought, the question burning in his mind. He needed to find her, to see the face of the one who had unknowingly changed his fate. His pulse quickened again, this time with urgency, as his eyes darted to the door. It was just 500 people, right? He could find her, he would find her. He’d turn over every stone, every guest, if he had to. The cold calculation that had guided him all his life kicked in, and he knew that he would not rest until he identified her.

But just as he reached for the door, ready to step back into the crowded ballroom, he heard a noise outside. It was faint at first, but unmistakable—a muffled shout, followed by the sound of something crashing to the floor.

Aemond’s hand hovered over the doorknob, his instincts shifting from the desperate need to find his soulmate to assessing this new potential threat. The noise came again, louder this time, accompanied by hurried footsteps and the murmur of raised voices.

His mind snapped back into the mode that had served him so well for years—alert, calculating, and prepared for anything. Whatever was happening out there, it wasn’t part of the evening’s planned events. Aemond knew better than to ignore disturbances, especially in a place that was supposed to be under his family’s control.

He took a deep breath, pushing the rush of emotions aside, focusing instead on the immediate task at hand. He needed to know what was going on, to assess the situation before it spiraled out of control. The search for his soulmate would have to wait—at least for now.

With a swift motion, Aemond opened the door and stepped into the hallway, his eyes scanning the corridor for the source of the commotion. The noise was coming from just around the corner, near the entrance to the ballroom. He could hear more clearly now—raised voices, the unmistakable edge of panic creeping into the tone of the guests.

Aemond’s jaw tightened, the golden thread still gleaming on his wrist as he moved toward the sound. Whatever was happening, it couldn’t be good. And it seemed that, for the moment at least, the mystery of his soulmate would have to remain unsolved.

As Aemond stepped into the main area of the party, the scene that greeted him was chaotic. Guests were hastily leaving, their faces painted with a mix of shock and confusion. The atmosphere that had once been lively and filled with laughter was now charged with panic.

In the center of it all stood Aegon, clearly drunk, a wild grin plastered on his face as he brandished a gun, shooting it toward the ceiling. “Get away, you freeloaders! The party’s over!” he shouted, laughter mingling with the chaos.

Aemond’s heart raced, and he sprang into action, his instincts kicking in. “Aegon!” he called, his voice sharp and authoritative, cutting through the commotion. “Put that down before someone gets hurt!”

But Aegon, in his drunken haze, seemed oblivious to the danger. Aemond pushed through the throngs of fleeing guests, his mind racing as he assessed the situation. Half the guests had already left, their hurried exits echoing the urgency in Aemond’s chest.

He closed the distance to Aegon, his expression hardening with determination. “You need to stop this right now!” Aemond shouted, trying to get his brother’s attention.

Aegon looked at him, still grinning, but Aemond could see the flicker of mischief fading. “Oh, come on, Aemond! Just having a little fun!” he slurred, waving the gun around carelessly.

Aemond felt a surge of frustration. “This isn’t fun; it’s reckless!” He lunged forward, grabbing Aegon’s arm and forcing the gun down. “You’re ruining everything!”

In the chaos, Aemond’s wrist brushed against his suit, and he instinctively peeked at his tattoo. His heart dropped. The golden shimmer was gone, replaced once again by the familiar black. The warmth and connection he had felt moments ago had vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving only a hollow ache in its place.

“Aemond?” Aegon’s voice broke through his thoughts, the drunken haze giving way to confusion. “What’s wrong?”

The weight of the moment settled heavily on Aemond’s shoulders as he looked around at the disorder. He had been so close—so close to discovering his soulmate, to understanding what it meant to feel this new connection. But now, as the last remnants of the party unraveled, he felt the threads of fate slip through his fingers like sand.

“Just... stay out of trouble,” Aemond said, his tone clipped as he forced himself to refocus. He had to regain control of the situation. He glanced back at the dwindling crowd, noting the last few guests who lingered, unsure of what to do next.

With a resolute breath, Aemond stepped back into the fray, ready to salvage what he could of the night.

As Y/N stood at the piano, the chaos of the party unfolded around her. She caught a glimpse of Aemond Targaryen through the throng of guests, emerging from the restroom, his expression dark and determined. He moved swiftly toward Aegon, who was still brandishing his gun and shouting.

A rush of anxiety flooded through her. What would happen next? The tension in the air was palpable, and Y/N felt a cold sweat on her brow. She could see Aemond’s outstretched hand, his brow furrowed with intensity, and she knew he was about to intervene.

But the thought of the confrontation made her heart race with fear. Aemond’s fierce demeanor, mixed with Aegon’s reckless behavior, created an atmosphere that was volatile, and she couldn’t bear to witness what might unfold.

With a shaky breath, Y/N made a decision. She couldn’t stay here any longer, caught in the tension of the moment, so she slipped away from backstage. As she moved, she avoided making eye contact with anyone, feeling the weight of their gazes on her, and the fear of being drawn into the chaos overwhelmed her.

The music faded behind her as she hurried out of the room, the sounds of shouting and gunfire echoing faintly in her ears. The allure of the golden thread, the connection she had felt just moments ago, was overshadowed by the turmoil that had erupted around her. All she could think about was escaping the madness, leaving the uncertainty of the night behind.

As she stepped outside into the cool air, she felt a mixture of relief and regret wash over her. The opportunity had slipped through her fingers, lost in the chaos of the party, and now she could only hope that whatever happened inside would resolve itself without further violence.

The morning light streamed through Aemond’s window, casting a warm glow across the room. He sat on the edge of his bed, his gaze fixed on the small black thread tattooed on his wrist. It was unchanged, the familiar darkness mocking him with its permanence.

He couldn’t shake the memory of the previous night—the fleeting moment when the thread had shimmered gold, the realization that his soulmate was near. It had felt like a revelation, an awakening, but Aegon’s reckless antics had shattered everything before he could grasp it.

“Damn it, Aegon,” Aemond thought bitterly, frustration bubbling within him. “You couldn’t just behave for one night? Was it too much to ask to let me have this moment?”

He felt anger course through him, fueled by the knowledge that his brother’s stupidity had cost him something precious. “You’re such an idiot. Do you even realize what you’ve done? You had to go and play the fool, waving a gun around like a child! Do you think this is a game?”

Aemond clenched his jaw, recalling the chaos Aegon had wrought, how quickly the atmosphere had shifted from anticipation to panic. “You’ve ruined everything. You had your fun at my expense, and now I’m stuck here, still waiting.”

The thread on his wrist, once a symbol of the potential for love and connection, now felt like a chain binding him to his frustration. “How could you be so careless? You’re supposed to be my brother, not my downfall.”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair as he tried to focus. “So close yet so far,” he mused, longing filling his chest. “If only you could keep your mouth shut for five minutes. I could have found her. I could have finally understood what it meant to feel whole.”

Aemond glared at the thread, wishing for it to transform again, to be the golden mark of his soulmate that would signify a future he desperately craved. But now it remained black, just as it always had, a reminder of the connection he’d nearly grasped but had been cruelly denied.

“Next time,” he thought fiercely, “I’ll be ready. I won’t let you ruin this for me again.” He vowed silently, determination sparking within him. The world felt heavy on his shoulders, but he knew he wouldn’t give up. He would find her. One way or another, he would make it happen.

part 2

LIKE AND REBLOG PLEASE <3. ITS MY FIRST FIC MOBSTER AEMOND!!

Let me know if I should continue this 🌼