#LISTEN ITS A GOOD CHARACTER CHOICE AND ALL AND I APPRECIATE THAT

[darlingghoulette]

blame the “hitting on your mom as a punishment” tiktok i just saw that literally blew my brain up. established because they’re disgustingly in love and because i say so

Eddie would normally consider himself pretty immune to the roar of arguing teenagers. Chaos surrounds their little Party. They’re not a quiet bunch when all together. It’s all shoving and yelling, giggling and roughhousing. Carpet-burned battle scars from the floor of Steve’s living room.

Lord knows Eddie himself wasn’t an inside-voice kind of person. He was certainly wont to standing on coffee tables and screeching demands for the remote when it was unjustly stolen away by villainous hands.

Eddie loved these people to death, and they were a lot of fucking fun to hang out with, it’s just this...this was an unreal level of noise. A normal sleepover night turned a little too rowdy, the adolescents celebrating the start of Summer with a bang.

Steve had already asked them to keep it down four times this evening. Nothing seemed to calm them. Not requests. Not threats of being sent home. Usually their Dungeon Master threatening their characters’ souls did the trick, but no go. 

Getting teenagers to listen? A feat more impossible than defeating creatures from an alternate universe. 

Dustin and Erica were in a bitching match about the best D&D class. Lucas and Mike had been fighting over movie choices for the last half hour. Eddie’s money was on the VHS player breaking before that, the constant mishandling and shoving of tapes had the poor thing practically smoking.

Will, ever the diplomat, was trying to be an impartial party when asked his movie opinions. Which, of course, caused more yelling. 

Max and El had been the only ones being semi-quiet, but that quickly ended when they followed through on their surprise attack pillow fight, pummeling the boys senseless and causing the already unbearable volume to kick into overdrive. Eddie could practically feel Steve’s migraine building, even from where the dude had retreated to the kitchen. Dinner had been pizza. Quick. Easy. Clean. Or, it would have been if it hadn’t had been for the food fight. Steve was still in there scrubbing cheese out of his parents’ tiled backsplash. Dishes clattered in the distance when the cacophony hit its crescendo. 

It was the proverbial straw. 

“Alright, that’s it! Hey. Come on, guys. Knock it off,”

Nothing. 

“HEY!”

He maybe overdid it that time, but the absolute ear-splitting boom of a yell he let out stopped the ruckus dead. 

Silence rang for a beat.

Huh. Maybe Eddie should try out incorporating that into his music. He honestly hadn’t known he could get to that range. 

The teenagers in the room stared at him, not cowed in the slightest, but curious enough to know what the hell Eddie’s problem was. Max was the first one to quirk an eyebrow at him.  “Geez, need attention much?” 

Eddie folded his arms to show he meant business. “Steve has asked you guys to tone it down. You’re waking the fucking dead. Why don’t you guys, like, actually go be good human beings and help him clean up your mess you all made in the kitchen, huh?” 

Lucas snorted. “Yeah, okay, mom. Why don’t you go help him, you guys will probably just make out in there, anyway.” 

It was a teasing comment. Meant to jokingly rib before getting back to doing whatever the hell they wanted to do.

But, see. That just gave him an idea. 

Never let it be said Eddie couldn’t be creative with his punishments. He was a DM after all. 

“Alllllllright. New plan. Listen up or suffer, ankle biters,” 

He really didn’t appreciate the snickers that brought about when he was trying to be intimidating. Rude. 

“You going to send us to our room or something? I’m real scared,” Erica’s scathing, dry wit was unparalleled, truly. 

“Nope. Better. It’s a new rule: You little shitheads give me attitude and don’t listen, I hit on your babysitter.”

It was silent for a minute, brains audibly computing that statement and coming up ERROR. Will hesitantly spoke up. 

“Uh, Eddie, I really don’t think that’s--”

“Yeah, what the fuck?” Mike interrupted. “Why would you beating up Steve hurt us? I mean, like, I guess it would emotionally, but that’s fucked up, man.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, still smirking wickedly as his plan solidified.  “Oh, I don’t mean that kind of hitting, young Wheeler. Though, it may yet get physical--Hey, Steve?” He called out. The sink in the kitchen shut off after a second.

“Yeah?” 

“Can you come here?” 

The kids shuffled around on the floor warily as the other man walked into the living room. The energy had obviously shifted, it was probably an odd vibe to walk in to, but Eddie cut Steve off before he could ask any questions.

“You tired?”

“Uh, no. I’m fine--”

“It’s just you just keep on runnin’ through my mind constantly. I figured you’d be exhausted, sweetheart,” Eddie purred, the words cloyingly sweet and full of exaggerated charm. 

There was a countdown, three, two, one...

A collective groan let out. A few uncomfortable laughs.  “Dude, what the hell?” 

“You guys agreed not to be gross in front of us!”

“Oh, my god, can I actually get sick from how cheesy that was?” 

Eddie had to work at keeping in character when his very first line had pulled the intended reaction. He was already reaching forward to curl an arm around Steve, pulling him in in a slow, sultry attempt at being smooth. 

“What? Can’t I be sweet on my guy? You all will understand when you’re in love one day. Right, sugar?” 

Fake gags and retching sounds, too dramatic to be real protests, but still indignant and annoyed. Eddie was pretty sure Dustin slapped a hand over his eyes.

“Uh...yes?” Steve, who had previously looked like a car accident had happened directly in front of him, was catching on to the play. He eyed the disgruntled floor-children with a growing grin and let Eddie snuggle up to him.

God, his baby was so clever. He always knew what Eddie was thinking. 

Too busy having a non-verbal conversation with Steve on how to best annoy the kids, Eddie didn’t see Mike turning his attention back to the tv. He did, however, hear him telling the others to “Just ignore them, they’ll get all gushy and leave us alone.” 

Oh, Michael, Michael. Wrong move. 

“How you doing, babygirl?” Steve flushed, deep and red and--huh. Okay. Revisiting that one in the future. “You good? You need anything? Your head hurting, sweet thing? I can kiss it better,”  Eddie ducked forward to kiss Steve’s cheek. It was chaste, a sweet little thing...that Eddie made infinitely worse by the smacking, obnoxious kissy sounds he emulated there. The chorus of groans and protests started up again. He didn’t even pull his face away to call over to them. 

“I’m sorry, is that attitude? Am I hearing more attitude?”

“Dude, Eddie, noooo!” 

“Jesus, it’s like watching your parents make out, oh my god.” 

“You guys, let’s just go already,” 

“Yeah, I’ll take washing dishes over this,” 

The grossed out teenagers whooshed past them. Grumbling and glaring--except Eleven, who smiled up at them sweetly--leaving Steve and Eddie standing in the living room, still wrapped up together. 

It was too tempting then, with the kids safely out of range, for Eddie to resist the temptation to drop his kisses a little lower down Steve’s neck. To let them get a little less chaste. Just a little.

What can he say? He’s a weak man. 

“That was evil,” Steve hummed. His shoulders dropped, though, relaxing into Eddie’s hold, the closest thing they’ve had to quiet all night settling in. 

“Hey, I accomplished two things. Got them to chill out and I get the perk of feeling you up in the middle of sleepover night. It’s a win-win.” 

A crash and a muffled argument broke out in the kitchen before Steve could respond to that. 

The audible scuffling was cut off by Eddie calling out “Your ass looks great in these jeans tonight, Harrington!” 

The fierce whispers and shushing were enough to get both of the older boys cackling loudly. 

[berberriescorner]

“Are You Listening?”

Interlude: “Drinks On Me, Yeah?”

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: Issa Interlude, mama. Expect the unexpected.

Warnings: Profanity, angst, fluff, and drinking-little libation for the one, two.

Word Count: 1,700+.

A/N: My lovelies! My babies! Mama’s back and I got a little sum-sum for ya! Let’s start this weekend with a little Rio and the crew, yeah? Yeah. I want to give so many thanks to all of you sweet lovelies who have been rocking with me this entire time. Most of you know that the past year and a half has been quite the struggle. To everybody who took time out of your day to come and check in on me, please know that I’m appreciative and forever grateful to have connected with such amazing people🥹♥️. Thank you for all the sweet, hilarious comments and asks as well💓. I’m a little rusty, so be gentle with your girl. Enjoy my sweet babies.  Before anyone asks, yes, I’ve been working on Pt. 4😂😏😈.

"Are You Listening?" - The Playlist

Apple Music.

Spotify.

Part One Here.

Part Two Here.

Part Three Here.

Inspired By:

Your body pressed down into the plush mattress as you reveled in the comfort and security of being home. Your mind replayed the image of your mom snatching the door open, the two of you hugging tightly, rocking side to side. You had spent the past week trying to survive final exams and warding off the many questions of, “What’s wrong, baby girl?” The woman who gave you life knew you all too well. Sensing that her youngest baby was struggling, her attempts to get you to open up over the phone went unanswered. With the semester complete, being home didn’t leave much space to dodge the knowing gaze in her eyes. 

That master’s degree will probably be a waste of time.

The moment you pulled away from the hug, she cupped your chin, and your poker face cracked as the tears cascaded down your cheeks. Two hours later, you filled her in on everything from the stress of school, financial aid, working doubles, and the fresh crack in your heart that was taking its sweet-ass time to heal. All of which had only taken about forty minutes to stutter out. The talk and her comfort had left you wiped out, and just like any amazing mother would do, she sent you to your room for a nap and got to work on preparing comfort food.

You considered dozing off for a bit more rest, but your bedroom door flew open, bouncing off the corner of your vanity. Your eyes narrowed to mere slits as you started to curse your oldest brother out. His hand raising halted the verbal reprimand.

“Alena’s big-headed ass is here to see ya mean ass,” he snarked about the woman who would eventually become his wife.

These two bitches are so in love. It’s sickening. The attraction is so annoyingly obvious. Shit makes me sick to my stomach.

Before you could tell him you didn’t want company, she was already in the doorframe. “Uh-uh, bitch you are not about to dodge me for another two weeks.�� With those words said, you had no choice but to give her a rundown of what had transpired. Not only had she forced you to divulge every last detail while the two of you hugged and cried together. She also took it upon herself to wiggle you into your best freakum dress and head out for a girl’s night.

Being the baby and the only girl in your family made for very over-the-top protective parents. The moment your father saw your attire, he wouldn’t let up. He was hell-bent on forcing your brothers to chaperone.

It wasn’t a horrible idea.  Only you didn’t like your independence challenged. Luckily, the older siblings were pretty chill, so long as no one was overly aggressive. They had taught you how to handle shit for yourself at a young age. You spent the first half hour in the club pouting and ready to go home to wallow in self-misery.

“Hoe! If you don’t fix your face, scaring off every good-looking man in this club!”

“They’ll be alright, so long as they keep their distance. In case you didn’t get the memo after our long talk. Men make my ass itch,” you growled, kissing your teeth.

“Whateva, you and that stank attitude can have a good time together,” she sassed, throwing up a hand and walking away from the bar.”

“Where are you going? Alena!”

“I’ll be back, damn! Let me go on and annoy them, fine-ass brothers of yours. Be nice, and don’t bite nobody head off, sourpuss.”

“Always thirsting after my blood, just triflin’.”

With the flick of a middle finger, she sauntered over to their section. You could see the irritation rolling off them as she seated herself in the middle. The arguing started seconds later. Your eye twitched at the sight. Swinging the barstool back toward the liquor, you were about to pass the time scrolling through social media. Instead, a set of bronzed-colored, muscular digits came into view. They gently pressed your phone to the bar as the matching digits slid another lemon drop into view. Your eyes danced along those muscular fingers, trailing upward until they landed on one of the sexiest faces you’d ever witnessed. If any other man would’ve done this, he would’ve been set straight expeditiously. In this instance, ole boy was just too damn fine, and it left you on mute. The corners of his mouth lifted into a handsome smirk.

The stranger turned his barstool to get closer. One hand rested on the bar while the other cradled the back of your seat. His eyes roamed over your body, lip tucking between his teeth, matching you stare for stare. He chuckled when he noticed your quirked eyebrow.

“I don’t mean to intrude on ya evening, but I figured you could use another drink.”

“Is that so?”

“Couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with your friend. I’m tryin’ to  figure out why these men got your fine ass itching out here.”

Shit, he heard that? Floor, open up and swallow me. That’s so damn embarrassing.

As if reading your thoughts, he continued, “Nothing to be embarrassed about, mama. There’s a lot of boys running around here pretending to be men. Who was crazy enough to fumble you? He gotta be the dumbest man on earth.”

As if on cue, said fumbler’s name popped up on your caller ID. With a swipe of a finger, the phone went silent. You turned back to your new admirer. He had signaled for another round of drinks.

“Either you’re a big spender, or the bartender is your connect,” you teased.

“Connect is one way of putting it. This my spot, darlin’.”

He chuckled as you damn near choked on your drink.

“I’m sorry. Tend to put my foot in my mouth.”

“You good. I like a woman who’s not afraid to speak her mind. Dealing with me, you go to say it with your chest.”

“Oh, so you plan to be around me beyond tonight?”

“Around, underneath, on top. We locked in, mama,” he insisted, licking his lips.

“I don’t even know your name, fool,” you cackled at his cockiness.

“Name’s Rio, but you can call me Christopher, mama. My future wife needs to know my government name. I’m putting my trust in you. Don’t be tellin’ my business, sweetheart.”

“Who says I’m checking for you, Rio?”

“You accepted my company and drinks. Deep down, you’re intrigued by me. Ain’t no need to hide it. When I see something I want, gotta go after it, mama.” he rasped, voice lowering to a panty-dropping level.

“You’re trouble. I just know it.”

Rio planted both hands on your thighs. The gasp that escaped you lit his brown orbs with passion.

“Can I have your undivided attention for the night? Want to get to know you better, mama.”

Grabbing his outstretched hand, he helped you down off the stool.

“Rio…”

Piercing light flickered in the darkness, pulling you from the memory that played itself in your dreams. Your hand snatched the vibrating phone from the table. Your orbs squinted to read the screen, teeth clenching in frustration.

Fucking Rio, I can’t even get away from him in my sleep. Stupid-handsome-asshole.

With a single tap, the phone rested on DND. You closed off from the world to find a peaceful slumber, only to wake from another dream. Throwing the covers back, you startled, feeling the bed dip. His cologne wafted through the air, and your eyes connected.

“Why all the tossing and turning, amor? Hmm,” he rasped, hand trailing up your arm. His warm palm cradled the side of your neck, rubbing away some of the tension.

“Sorry, did my restlessness wake you?”

“No, querida. I’ve been up taking care of some things.”

“Same old Miguel. Everything business. Still don’t sleep much, huh?”

His eyes crinkled with a small smile, but you could also see sadness. It’s the same unhappiness that’s always lingered, only now accompanied by sparks of anger and resentment. Your mind replayed his words in the elevator.

Where’s your wife, Miguel?

She had other plans tonight.

The slightest mention of her had nearly sent his mood spiraling. You weren’t privy to what was happening in his marriage but didn’t want to pry. He would only reverse card uno your ass. Miguel would insist that you vent about your own life and frustrations.

“Thank you for taking the couch,” you nibbled at your lip. 

There was a hint of frustration and guilt lingering in your chest. Not being able to sleep without dreaming of Rio left you feeling conflicted. Part of you wanted to say to hell with loyalty. Being in such a vulnerable state had you craving to be held and cuddled, but regardless of circumstance, the two of you were very much married. Concern swam in the pools of his eyes. Miguel sensed the ongoing dilemma in your head, and his fingers gently cupped your chin.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s all this,” he asked, tugging the lip between your teeth. “Tell me what you need.”

“I can’t,” you sighed.

“You can, and you will. Look at me,” he insisted as your eyes locked.

“Anything you ask me. It won’t leave this room. You need me to hold you until sleep takes over, amor?”

Unable to verbally say it, you gave him a slight head nod. Removing his tie, watch, and shoes, he made it over to the opposite side of the bed. Miguel got right to it, not giving you time to overthink it. He pulled you into his chest, arms engulfing you in a tight hug.

“Were you having nightmares, cariño?”

“No, just happy memories reminding me of the present painful ones,” you replied, voice filling with unshed tears.

“You want to talk about it?”

Silence filled the room as Miguel continued, “We don’t have to ta-.”

His sentence cut short as he felt the tremors and your head burrowed into his side. Miguel’s heart cracked at the sound of the sobs falling from your lips. His arms pulled you further into him until there was no space left, and the palm of his hand rubbed at your head.

“Shhh, you’re okay. I’m here,” he cooed, leaving soft kisses on the crown of your head.

Miguel continued to whisper calming words. You cried until your head pounded, and sleep took over.

Hope you all enjoyed that little peek into how Rio pulled up on your girl for the first time. He saw something he liked, and he had to have you🥰. We’ll just call this a vague moment of insight into upcoming events...if that makes sense 😆. If you enjoyed please be sure to hit the love button, comment, and reblog. Spread the love, my babies.

Divider: @firefly-graphics

Tags:

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@superhoeva @memeaaaa @djconde58

[firstdivisiongirl]

Hello I lovee your headcanons and i cant help but want more 😭 so could I request some headcanons for Izana, Ran, Hanma, and Kakucho (add whichever character you'd like too OR if its a lot, you can choose whoever you want to do, but mostly make Izana pls🙏) about their ideal types? How they'd like his partner to be, their physics, their personality... Yeah.

Thank you sm I hope it's not too much or anything

Hell. Thanks for the request. This isn’t too much at all. I did take out Ran, but only because there was no Rindou and they’re a package deal. I also couldn’t honestly think of anything for Ran. But I hope you enjoy it!

Izana Kurokawa, Kakucho Hitto, and Shuji Hanma's Ideal Types

Izana Kurokawa:

I cannot say this enough.  Karen ruined this man’s view on how to treat people.

Destroyed it

That being said, if he wanted someone, he would want someone really sweet

But also tough

Like a Hori from Horimiya type

Or Nami from One Piece

Super nice, but will also smack someone if they has too

Looks wouldn’t be a big priority for him

Except no blondes

Too much like Karen

He wants someone who is good at listening and agrees with him

No disagrees with the king

That sounded inappropriate…

But all in all he wants someone who is a good listener, nice, but can also fight

Kakucho Hitto:

Now for the sweetest boy

He wants someone who doesn’t have anything to do with gang life

His little piece of normalice

They have to be a good person

They need a huge moral compass

Like Izana, doesn’t care so much about looks

Looks aren’t what makes a person great

Wants someone who is smiling

And loves kids

He seems like the guy who would want a family

And wouldn’t waste time dating someone he didn’t see a future with.

So basically he wants a good person who he can see spending the rest of his life with

Shuji Hanma:

Oh Shuji!

You are a unique one.

To be honest, I think he would initially think he wants someone as crazy as him

It would make life exciting

But he would fall for the person who is the opposite him

Like super sweet and sees the world in color unlike him

Like the other two, looks don’t really bother him that much

But, he wants someone short

Why?  Because he’s a tease

He wants someone who will let him make choices too

Since working with Kisaki, he doesn’t get to make the calls

So he wants someone who will listen to his opinion and let him make decisions sometimes

He just wants someone who will make the world colorful instead of gray like it is now

Please do not copy, modify, translate or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated!

[ajearthlinggg]

exposing you based on your fav will wood/wwatt song (my longest post)

A lot of these have nothing to do with the song. They're basically headcannons lmao. My Blake Jennings is showing

No instrumental chnt except Rhumba sorry

i started this in June enjoy

EIAL

6up 5oh copout: its low hanging fruit to say you hate cops, and I'm taking it. You hate cops.

Skeleton Appreciation whatever the fuck: Covid RUINED you

Front Street: you like Heathers

Aikido!: how's that obsessiveness and inability to let go going?

White Knuckle Jerk: you also like nu metal for the same reason. (Its incredibly horny)

Cover This Song: same as Aikido but only with your exes omg do not text them they are assholes

Thermodynamic Lawyer: PLEASE take time to calm down when you get overstimulated I promise if you don't do anything abt it you will have such a terrible mental breakdown

Red Moon: YOU LISTEN TO MALE MANIPULATOR MUSIC STOP TRYING TO HIDE IT YOU CANT BE IN THE RADIOHEAD CLOSET FOREVER

Lysergide daydream: I honestly do not like this song at all so you get a pass (don't kill me)

The First Step: you're usually quiet but you know how to SCREAM.

Jimmy Mushroom: you're usually quiet but- I'm just kidding. You're always quiet

Chemical Overreaction: you're usually quiet but if- I'm just kidding. You are never quiet

Everything is a lot/dte: insomnia. I dont know why,but insomnia

Self-ish

self/ish: closet theatre kid

2012: fast talker to a not comprehendible level

Cotard Solution: turn off the v-sauce it is 2 am

Mr. Capgras: turn off the 🌽 it is 2 am

The Song With Five Names: you have incredible taste. You can't describe that taste, but hey, its incredible

Hand me my shovel: you were the only talented kid in your elementary music class

Dr. Sunshine is Dead: you love the smell of cigarettes

TNA

Suburbia overture: BPD BPD BPD BPD BPD BPD BPD BPD BPD BPD

222: your English teacher loves you (you're so goddamn gay)

Laplace's Angel: your English teacher hates you. How do I know? Because you can't pronounce anything (its la-plass-es not la-place-is)

i/me/myself: you have to beat off the fake fan allegations with a stick everyday

Wbtta: hey queen. How are those hyperfixations going

Outliars and hyppocrates: you spell the title wrong every. damn. time.

bbw: same as 2012 but holy shit triple it.

Marsha, thankk you: dyslexia and ADHD

Love, me normally: I get it. I'm not even gonna expose you. You already have it bad enough

Momento Mori: you are just SO quirky! (knives whisper things to you when you hold them)

Icimi

Tomcat Disposables: you'd shove photos of your pets in your friends faces even if they were dangling off a bridge

Becoming the last names: you either have wonderful parents in a happy relationship or your parents have been divorced for years and you will never relate to this song

Cicada Days: stop using self deprecating humor around the wrong people PLEASE

Euthanasia: this song is a masterpiece I have nothing to say about you.

Falling Up: WONDERFUL TASTE. AMAZING CHOICE. NO RECOLLECTION OF YOUR CHILDHOOD.

That's enough: you love Alex g you just don't know it yet

Um its kind of a lot: you either already love Scott pilgrim or it will happen. Its a canon event

Half decade hangover: omg twinn!! I have an addictive personality, too!

(I feel like this is a good time to say don't take these too seriously)

You liked this: ...what?

The main character: you can't relate to the song, you hate yourself

Sdrr: IF I SEE ONE MORE PERSON TAKING THIS SONG SUPER SERIOUSLY IM GONNA LOSE MY SHIT YDHZJABXV

Bfb: ur just a silly lil guy

Willard!: you're a therian. There is no human explanation to this.

white noise: you love pink floyd you just don't know it yet

Atkf: HOW TF DID I FORGET THIS ONE anyways you get bad habits (nail biting, staying up too late. Etc)

CHNT

Yes to err: you are still waiting for chnt season 2 BC you want to see what happens with Adam

Your body, my temple: I have a strong feeling you have a tummy ache right now

Venetian Blind Man: you love nobody sexually you just don't know it yet (this is a very ace choice idk why)

Rhumba of Death: you LOVE Halloween

When Somebody Needs You: Tyler the Creator is probably your favorite rapper

Live

Trww

Self/ish: You can't sleep if your room has the SLIGHTEST amount of light in it

10-4 6-up: unlike the original, you don't just hate cops, you hate anybody who can tell you what to do (your teachers are probably just trying to do their job. please)

Cotards Solution: you can't sleep without background noise

Dr Sunshine Lives!: You never get sick physically (mentally on the other hand...)

Where do you get off: omg the horniest of the horny. Gerard Way on stage levels of horny. Nine Inch Nails levels of horny. (Or you really like Umbrella Academy idk why)

Aikido: you can't relate to it. You hate everybody

Take a break grab some water this is getting long

Thermodynamic Lawyer: you have gotten kicked out of restaurants because of how loud you are

Front Street: WE GET IT. IT'S BETTER THAN THE ORIGINAL.

Wasting away again: I am so sorry holy shit

Hand me my (x), I'm (y): you suck at algebra

The First Step: you wish you could do the AUGHHHHHHHH

2012: severe social anxiety

Mr capgras: literally the opposite of 2012 (live)

Chemical Overreaction: you know so many random fun facts

Fibrodysplasia: I'm not even gonna talk about your mental issues because I will be banned from this app (which is pretty much impossible)

Icid

Cicada Days: you also get a pass fuck I'm so sorry

The main character okay you ACTUALLY can relate to it

Icimi: OMG I LOVE YOU

atkf: you cry every day even if you aren't sad

Becoming the last names: please don't become a Disney adult

Vampire ref: LISTEN TO MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE I KNOW YOU'VE BEEN PUTTING IT OFF AND IK YOU LOVE HOT VAMPIRE MUSIC

Half decade hangover: oh my god talk to somebody it'll be okay I'm so sorry

Tsw5n: you love the way he says "what the fuck"

Euthanasia: once again, ANOTHER PASS. IM SO SORRY I HOPE YOU'RE OKAY

Jimmy Mushrooms: You. Me. Marriage. Now.

Laplaces Angel: you listen to LitWTC

i/me/myself: you were trying to separate yourself from the normal i/me/myself fans

The first step: idk why but you REALLY like lemonade

skeleton appreciation day: you can NOT play any instrument

tomcat disposables: you love concept albums

White noise: unlike cotards, you need to sleep in SILENCE

Love me normally: arctic monkeys. that's all I have to say. idk what about them but, yeah

misanthrapologist: GAY QUEER LGBT HOMOSEXUAL FRUITY ZESTY ROMANTICALLY ATTRACTED TO PEOPLE OF THE SAME GENDER

Falling up: wonderful taste once again please don't become a Disney adult

thats enough let's get you home: you say "YIPPIE!!" a lot

And if I did: god made you shy because he knew if you weren't you would be unstoppable

[kckt88]

Fracture.

Summary:

After taking Harrenhal, Aemond is haunted by his past sins.

Warning(s): Angst, Swearing, Drama, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Smut, Oral Sex, (F Recieving), Loss of Virginity, P in V, Visions, Torment, Despair, Aemond POV, BAMF Alys Rivers, Ending Open to Interpretation/Ambiguous.

AEMOND x O.C

Word Count: 9870

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

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Prince Aemond Targaryen lay in a dilapidated bed within the blackened ruins of Harrenhal, the once-mighty castle now a testament to fire and war.

The room around him was in disrepair, with crumbling stone walls, broken windows that allowed the cold, damp air to seep in, and a ceiling that leaked, letting the rain pour in rhythmically.

Aemond's one good eye stared up at the ceiling, his mind replaying the events that recently transpired.

He and his men, including Ser Criston Cole, had ridden into Harrenhal with expectations of battle, ready to face his uncle Daemon.

But the castle had been deserted, save for a few trembling inhabitants too frightened to flee.

Initially, they had celebrated their bloodless victory, mocking Daemon as a coward who had fled before the might of the Greens.

But the victory was hollow.

News had soon arrived that King's Landing had fallen to the Blacks, and Rhaenyra now sat on the Iron Throne, his mother and sweet sister taken as hostages.

Daemon, far from being a coward, had outmanoeuvred him, drawing Aemond to Harrenhal while the real prize slipped away.

The realization had been a bitter one, and now Aemond lay in the ruins of a castle that was as broken as his plans.

The rain poured harder, as if the gods themselves were mocking him. Every drop that struck the stone was a reminder of his failure, of how his uncle had outsmarted him.

Anger seethed within him, a fire that threatened to consume him from the inside. He was trapped in Harrenhal, far from King's Landing, with little choice but to regroup and try to salvage what remained of the Greens' cause.

Aemond clenched his fists, the anger fuelling his resolve. He would not be beaten, not by Daemon, not by anyone.

As the rain continued to pour, Aemond began to form new plans, his mind racing with possibilities.

But for now, all he could do was listen to the rain and wait.

Aemond tossed and turned in the tattered bed, sleep evading him as his mind churned with anger and frustration.

The rain outside had grown heavier, its pounding relentless against the ruined walls of Harrenhal.

Suddenly, in the midst of his restlessness, Aemond noticed a shadow pass by the closed door of his chamber.

Who could be prowling the halls of Harrenhal at this hour? He rose from the bed and reached for his sword, unsheathing it silently.

Moving with the stealth of a hunter, he approached the door and slowly pushed it open, peering into the dimly lit corridor.

The hallway was empty, but he could hear the faint sound of footsteps echoing through the stone passages.

Determined to uncover the source, Aemond stepped out, following the elusive sound. The rain hammered against the castle even harder now.

The flickering torches cast long, wavering shadows as he crept forward, every muscle coiled and ready to strike.

He turned a corner and saw a shadowy figure slip into a room at the end of the hall. With a narrowed eye, Aemond quickened his pace, his grip on the sword tightening.

He reached the door, hesitating only for a moment before pushing it open and stepping inside.

The room was small and dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of herbs and something faintly metallic.

Before him stood a woman, the very one he had spared when he first took Harrenhal. She moved calmly, busying herself with adding ingredients into a bowl as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

"It's a touch late to be stalking about a strange castle putting its people to the sword," she said, not even looking up from her work.

Aemond’s sword flashed as he pointed it at her, his voice cold and sharp. "You—"

She turned to face him, a faint smile playing on her lips. "I'm Alys."

Aemond's eye narrowed as he assessed her. "Strong?" he demanded.

"No. Rivers," she replied evenly.

His sneer was immediate. "A bastard."

Alys only smiled wider, her gaze steady and unperturbed. "Once you get to know me, you'll find that I'm not so bad."

Aemond scoffed at her audacity. "What are you, a maester?"

She smiled again, a sly, knowing expression. "In a manner of speaking. I took on the duties after the last one fled."

Aemond circled the room slowly, his sword still held at the ready. "Why?"

Alys shrugged lightly, still focused on her task. "He just never settled in."

Aemond watched her intently, the tension in the room thickening as the rain drummed louder against the stone.

He was caught off guard by her calm demeanour, her unflinching presence in the face of his hostility.

There was something about her that unsettled him, though he couldn’t place what it was.

"How are you settling in, my Prince?" Alys asked suddenly, her voice smooth and knowing. "I've come to know the face of tortured rest well enough. Sleep can be thin in this place." She began mixing the ingredients in the bowl, the sound of the pestle grinding against the mortar echoing in the small room.

Aemond bristled at her observation. "What would you know of my sleep?"

Without missing a beat, Alys took a lumpy red substance and tossed it into the bowl. "Harrenhal has been cursed since its first stone was laid," she said, her voice taking on a slightly ominous tone.

She licked the red substance from her fingers, her eyes never leaving Aemond's. "Black Harren felled a grove of weirwood trees that grew on these lands, with heart trees imbued with the spirits of those who lived long before he came. It’s said their whispers can still be heard sometimes."

Aemond scoffed, his scepticism clear. "Ridiculous."

Alys only smiled, her expression inscrutable as she continued her work, the eerie atmosphere in the room growing thicker with every passing moment.

Alys looked up from her work, her gaze steady as she spoke. "The very bed you sleep in was made from such a heart tree; you know. Its whispers are likely what keep you from finding rest."

Aemond frowned, his eye narrowing. "You are a very strange kind of woman."

Alys giggled softly, a sound that echoed eerily in the small room. "I’m no woman at all, my Prince. I’m a barn owl cursed to live in human form."

Aemond curled his lips in disdain at her strange words, turning to leave the room.

But before he could step out, Alys’s voice cut through the air, stopping him in his tracks.

"Your hands will never be clean of the blood you’ve spilled, all for the sake of a debt that you once claimed was worth the eye you lost when you gained your dragon."

Aemond froze, his heart skipping a beat. "What did you say?"

Alys turned her eyes on him, her expression grave. "It was not your niece’s debt to pay, yet you claimed it so and took her maidenhead. Your thirst for vengeance then claimed its next victim in the skies above Storm's End—a nephew's life taken in rage. And that, in turn, led to the loss of your other nephew, a son for a son. And then there was your brother, burned and maimed for life by your command."

Aemond's face twisted in anger, his voice low and dangerous. "Do not try me with your insolence, witch."

Alys didn’t flinch, continuing as if she hadn’t heard his threat. "You don’t realize what you’ve lost. Things could have been so different."

He scoffed, turning his back on her, but her next words hit their mark.

"Even now, you think of her—of what might have been had you not been so cruel."

Aemond paused, his breath catching in his throat. The truth of her words unsettled him, stirring memories he had tried to bury.

He turned to see Alys pouring the contents of the bowl into a cup, the mixture dark and steaming. She held it out to him, her expression calm and knowing.

"Here, drink this," she said softly. "You’ll need your sleep if you are to right the wrongs you have committed."

Aemond hesitated, his pride warring with the growing sense of unease she had planted in his heart.

But something in her gaze—something ancient and wise—compelled him to reach out and take the cup. He brought it to his lips and drank deeply, the liquid bitter on his tongue.

Aemond found himself adrift in a dreamlike state, his surroundings shifting and warping until he was no longer in the ruins of Harrenhal but back within the familiar walls of the Red Keep.

He was disoriented, as if he were both present and not, a ghost in his own memories. The hallways of the castle were dimly lit by flickering torches, and the echoes of distant footsteps reverberated through the stone corridors.

As he walked, his body moved with a purpose that was not entirely his own, as if some unseen force was guiding him.

He knew where he was going, even before the door appeared before him, the door to the chambers Lucella had been given during her stay at the Red Keep.

After the fight at the dinner, he had followed her that night, unable to banish her image from his thoughts.

She had been so beautiful, so enchanting, and yet he had convinced himself that she was nothing more than an opportunity—a chance to exact a twisted form of vengeance for what her bastard brother had done to him.

As he approached the door, he felt the weight of his own guilt and desire pressing down on him, but he had pushed those feelings aside at the time, replacing them with cold calculation.

The door creaked open as he stepped inside, and there she was, just as he remembered.

Lucella stood by the window, her back to him. She had turned when she heard him enter, her eyes wide with surprise and something else—hope, perhaps? He had seen it then, but he had refused to acknowledge it.

In this strange, almost out-of-body experience, Aemond watched himself move toward her, watched the way his younger self’s eyes had lingered on her, drinking in every detail.

She was so vulnerable, so trusting, and he had taken advantage of that.

"You shouldn’t be here, Uncle" she had whispered, her voice trembling.

He had ignored her words, stepping closer until he was right in front of her.

His hand had reached out, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, and he had marvelled at how soft it was, how perfect she was.

Even when he was a child, he had always thought she was beautiful.

But he had steeled himself, reminding himself of why he was there.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, the kiss searing and insistent.

Lucella pulled away, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and desire. But the intensity of his kiss, had been too much to resist.

With a soft moan, she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him back passionately.

Aemond’s hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, his kisses growing more fervent.

His hands roaming over Lucella’s back as he slowly backed them towards the bed.

Their lips never parting; each kiss more heated than the last. Lucella breath hitched as she felt his long fingers deftly begin to untie the laces of her dress.

As the laces came undone, Aemond's hands brushed against her bare skin. Lucella shivered at his touch, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

Aemond smiled, a rare, genuine smile that softened his usual intensity.

His hands moved with purpose, sliding the dress from her shoulders and down her body, exposing her skin to the cool air.

Lucella’s hands found their way to Aemond’s own clothing, eager to remove the barriers between them.

Once she had removed the out layers of his clothing, her fingers explored the hard planes of his chest and abdomen.

Aemond groaned softly at her touch, his lips trailing down her neck as he laid her back against the soft sheets.

Aemond positioned himself above her, his expression a mixture of desire and determination.

Lucella’s breath caught in her throat as she gently cupped his face with her hands. Her fingers brushed against the rough texture of his scar.

Slowly, she slipped off his eyepatch, revealing the sapphire he had placed where his eye once was.

With tenderness, Lucella leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his scarred cheek.

She felt Aemond’s sharp intake of breath, a moment of pure vulnerability passing between them.

Her fingers moved to the tie that bound his long, silver hair. With a gentle tug, she undid it, and his hair cascaded down, framing his chiselled face.

“So beautiful,” whispered Lucella, her voice filled with affection.

Aemond’s gaze softened, the fierce intensity giving way to something more tender, more real.

“My sweetest-” whispered Aemond as he pulled away and descended down her body, kissing and nipping at her skin as he went.

A strange feeling of familiarity lingered within his mind. Almost like they'd done this dance a thousand times before.

“W-What are you doing?” asked Lucella shyly.

“I want to kiss you-here” replied Aemond as he pressed forward and ran his tongue over her warm wet folds.

She bit the back of her hand to keep herself from screaming as Aemond began using his long fingers to slowly tease her entrance.

“None of that. I want to hear how good I make you feel” growled Aemond as he began moving his tongue against her, in rhythm with his fingers.

“A-Aemond. Oh god. Please” moaned Lucella, as she writhed against the sheets.

“That’s it-such a good girl for me” growled Aemond.

“OH-” whimpered Lucella, as Aemond continued to move his tongue and fingers over her centre.

“I know your almost there. Let it happen. Come for me” whispered Aemond, his tongue moving across her pearl.

Lucella arched her back and let out a scream as her pleasure erupted.

Aemond slowly crawled up her body, placing gentle kisses on her skin as he moved higher and higher.

Lucella blushed furiously when she saw that Aemond’s chin was shining with her slick.

“Calm yourself issa zaldrīzes” muttered Aemond, as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth, sucking off her slick. (My dragon).

“W-What are you doing?” asked Lucella as Aemond’s hand slid down her body and began teasing her folds.

“I-I need to prepare you a little more” whispered Aemond.

“P-prepare me?” whispered Lucella.

“You are a maiden-” replied Aemond.

“Aemond” exclaimed Lucella as he slowly slipped a finger inside her, the slick from her first peak easing the way.

Aemond buried his face in Lucella’s neck as he began peppering kisses along her smooth skin as he added another finger, moving them in and out slowly.

“So warm-so wet for me” rasped Aemond, his hot breath tickling her skin.

“I-I think I’m ready” whispered Lucella.

Aemond removed his fingers and then moved between her open legs, supporting his weight on his left arm as he reached down and took his hard cock in his hand and placed the tip of it against her slick entrance.

Lucella shut her eyes tight, taking a deep breath as Aemond sheathed himself within her.

Aemond leaned down and pressed gentle kisses to her cheeks, his tongue catching her fallen tears.

Aemond’s cock twitched and throbbed with need, and he released a shuddered breath while Lucella sighed in relief. 

“Are you ok?” asked Aemond.

“I-I think you can move now” whispered Lucella her hands running along the smooth plans of Aemond’s back.

Slowly Aemond withdrew and then moved forward, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“Are you ok?” repeated Aemond as he thrust inside her.

“Y-yes-I think you can move faster”

Aemond rested his head in the crook of her neck as he thrusts faster, his moans muffled against her skin.

“Ooh Aemond-that feels good” whined Lucella.

“Your perfect-” whispered Aemond.

“P-please Aemond. F-faster. H-harder” exclaimed Lucella.

“Lucy-my Lucy” moaned Aemond as he began to pound into her, his hips slapping against hers.

“-I-I f-feel-” whimpered Lucella.

“-Let it happen-my sweetest, peak for me” exclaimed Aemond.

“ OH- ”

“Fuck-that’s it-that’s it” muttered Aemond as he slipped his hand between their bodies and slowly began rubbing her pearl.

“ AEMOND ” screamed Lucella’s her peak exploded, making her entire body shake.

“Fuck-” groaned Aemond as he felt the heat shooting across his abdomen.

“-Aemond” whimpered Lucella.

“Lucy-” moaned Aemond pushed into the hilt for one last time, his cock throbbing as he spilled rope after rope of his seed.

Aemond watched the scene, the bile rising in his throat, he knew what was coming.

He would pull his softened cock from her and redress himself with all the haste he could muster.

The sound of her sweet shaky voice asking him to stay was like a knife to the heart.

He watched himself hesitate, that inner conflict, he remembered it well.

Torn between staying or following through on his plan.

In the end, he chose the latter.

He convinced himself that this was justice, that she was nothing to him.

But the truth had been far more complicated. He had wanted her—truly wanted her. The fire that had burned within him that night was not born of anger or revenge, but of a deep, undeniable desire.

Even as he took her, he knew that she meant more to him than he could admit.

But he had buried those feelings, locking them away beneath layers of pride and pain.

He had told her she meant nothing, that she was just a means to an end, that he had taken her maidens blood in exchange for the eye he lost, but even now, in this strange half-dream, half-memory, he knew he had lied.

Then he had left her there, discarded her with her maidens blood and his seed between her thighs.

Her sobs had haunted him as he walked away, the weight of what he had done pressing down on him like a physical burden.

Aemond watched as his younger self walked out of the room, leaving Lucella behind. He wanted to scream, to reach out and stop himself, to tell her the truth—that she had meant something to him, that she had always meant something.

But he was trapped in this memory, unable to change what had already been done.

The memory began to fade, the walls of the Red Keep dissolving around him as the darkness closed in.

Aemond was left with the echo of his own voice in his mind, the cruel, cold words he had spoken, and the knowledge that he had lost something precious that night—something he could never get back.

Aemond sat at the head of the table, the once-grand hall of Harrenhal a shadow of its former self, much like his own fraying composure.

Ser Criston Cole spoke with authority, laying out plans for their next move. His voice was calm, confident, as he detailed a potential assault on the small town of Drarry.

The town’s levies could bolster their dwindling forces, he reasoned. It was a sound strategy, one that should have commanded Aemond's full attention.

But Aemond wasn’t listening. His mind drifted, the words swirling around him like the incessant rain outside, distant and meaningless.

His attention was instead captured by the young boy serving wine, a boy who shouldn’t—couldn’t—be there. It was Lucerys.

Aemond's heart pounded as he stared, unblinking, at the boy. The youthful, innocent face he had once known approached him, but something was horribly wrong.

Luke’s visage began to warp and twist, the fresh, unmarred skin turning a sickly grey, decaying before Aemond’s eyes. His eyes bulged grotesquely from their sockets; his flesh rotted away to reveal bone.

Deep, jagged gashes crisscrossed his body, and parts of him were simply missing—his left arm gone, his torso a ghastly open wound.

"Wine, Your Grace?" Luke rasped, his voice a nightmarish croak as water and bile spilled from his mouth.

Aemond lurched from his seat. The occupants of the table stared at him, confusion and alarm evident in their expressions.

Ser Criston Cole’s voice cut through the sudden silence, sharp with concern.

"Are you all right, Your Grace?"

Aemond’s breathing was ragged, his eye wild as he pointed toward the abomination before him. "Can’t you see him?"

Criston exchanged worried glances with the other men at the table. "See who?"

Aemond’s words died in his throat as he turned back to where the twisted figure of Luke had stood.

But instead of the grotesque apparition, there was now only an older, grey-haired woman, her movements slow and deliberate as she poured the wine.

Her face was lined with age, her expression calm, as if nothing had happened. The room around Aemond felt suddenly too small, the air thick and suffocating.

His breath hitched as he glanced back at Ser Criston, who was watching him with deepening concern.

"Are you all right, Your Grace?" Criston repeated, his voice softer this time, as though speaking to a man on the edge.

Aemond forced himself to nod, swallowing hard against the bile that rose in his throat. He tried to focus on the words still being spoken around the table, tried to ground himself in the reality of their situation, but his mind was spinning, unable to shake what he had just seen.

He reached for the cup in front of him, his hand trembling slightly as he brought it to his lips. The bitter taste of the wine lingered on his tongue, sharp and acrid, but it did little to steady his nerves.

His thoughts were a tangled web of anger, fear, and something else—something he couldn’t quite name.

Aemond sat slumped in a chair before the fire, the flames casting flickering shadows across the worn stone walls of Harrenhal.

His head hung low, cradled in his hands, the weight of the past days pressing heavily upon him.

He felt disconnected, as though the world around him had become a blur, the edges of reality fraying like the tattered banners that hung in the desolate castle.

With a sigh, he pulled off his eyepatch, exposing the sapphire that gleamed coldly in the firelight. The socket where his eye had once been throbbed with a dull ache.

He took a slow sip of wine, hoping the liquid might numb the gnawing unease that had settled in his chest.

But then, a sound pierced through the haze that enveloped him—a soft, mournful weeping.

The sound was faint, distant, but unmistakable. He set the cup down, the echo of its base clinking against the table, and reached for his sword.

The cold steel felt reassuring in his grip as he rose from the chair, the fire at his back now casting long, dancing shadows along the walls.

He moved through the darkened corridors of Harrenhal, the sound of weeping guiding him like a beacon through the gloom.

The castle was silent save for the rain still pounding against the stones outside, but the weeping cut through it all, a sorrowful melody that pulled him deeper into the bowels of the keep.

Aemond paused in front of a closed door, the source of the weeping just beyond. He hesitated for a moment, his pulse thrumming in his ears, before pushing the door open with a slow creak.

Suddenly, the world around him shifted, the cold, crumbling walls of Harrenhal melting away to be replaced by something entirely different.

He blinked, disoriented, as he found himself standing in a chamber unfamiliar yet unmistakable. The walls were adorned with carved dragons, their serpentine forms etched into the stone, and the distant roars of dragons echoed through the air.

The air here was warm, heavy with the scent of salt and ash. It dawned on him with a start—this was Dragonstone.

The weeping grew louder, more desperate, and Aemond’s breath hitched as he moved further into the room.

On the bed, shrouded in shadow and sorrow, was Lucella. She was huddled against her mother, Rhaenyra, who held her tightly, stroking her hair in a futile attempt to soothe her daughter’s anguish.

Lucella’s sobs were gut-wrenching, her small frame shaking with the force of her grief. Aemond’s breath caught in his throat, a mix of confusion and dread rising within him.

He took a step forward, the sword in his hand now feeling alien, almost wrong, in this place.

His gaze locked onto Lucella, her face buried in Rhaenyra’s shoulder, her tears soaking her gown.

Aemond’s grip tightened on his sword, his knuckles white, but he felt powerless, a mere spectator in this twisted dream. His mouth opened to speak, to say something—anything—but no words came.

He was paralyzed by the weight of his own guilt, the sight of Lucella’s broken form etched into his mind

Aemond stood at the foot of the bed, his presence unnoticed by the two women.

The air was thick with tension, the only sounds in the room the soft crackling of the fire and Lucella’s quiet sobs.

"On the night of the petition for Driftmark-" Lucella whispered, her voice trembling as she confessed the truth that weighed so heavily on her. "Aemond, came to my chambers, and he took my maidenhead-"

Rhaenyra's grip on her daughter tightened, her knuckles white as she struggled to contain the fury simmering just beneath the surface. "Did he force himself on you?"

Lucella shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "No, Mother, he didn’t force me. He whispered sweet words and when he touched me, it was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. He was gentle, he made me feel good" Her voice faltered, a wistful note creeping in as she remembered that night, her words tinged with a sadness that pierced through Aemond like a dagger.

“Lucella-” whispered Rhaenyra softly.

"But when it was over," Lucella continued, her voice breaking, "He discarded me. Like I was nothing. He said that I was a means to an end, that my maidens blood was an exchange for the eye he lost"

Rhaenyra's expression darkened, her eyes burning with cold, calculated fury. "He took advantage of you and he will pay for it," she swore, her voice low and dangerous. "For what he has done to you, for what he did to Lucerys. I swear it. He will pay”

Aemond felt the weight of her words like a noose tightening around his neck. This was his fault—he had done this.

He had shattered Lucella’s trust, her innocence, and now, as he stood there, he was faced with the unbearable consequences of his cruelty. He had thought himself in control, convinced that this was justice, but now, watching the devastation he had wrought, he realized how terribly wrong he had been.

But then, Lucella spoke again, her voice trembling with something deeper, something that sent a cold chill down Aemond’s spine.

“Mother-forgive me” she began, her breath hitching, “His seed, it took root. I carry his child inside me.”

The room fell deathly silent, the air thick with the weight of her words. Aemond’s heart stopped, his mind reeling as he stared at Lucella, unable to process what she had just said.

A child. His child.

Rhaenyra’s reaction was immediate. Horror and disbelief flashed across her face as she pulled Lucella even closer, as if trying to shield her from the harsh reality of the situation.

"No-" she whispered, her voice breaking.

Lucella nodded, her tears flowing freely. “It’s true, Mother. I carry his child.”

Aemond’s knees felt weak, his body trembling as the full weight of his actions crashed down upon him.

He had not only destroyed Lucella’s innocence but had also left her with a child—a child that would bear the burden of his sins.

"Do you wish to keep the child?" Rhaenyra's voice was soft, but there was an undercurrent of urgency, of desperate concern.

Lucella hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "The child is innocent of their father's sins," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I cannot condemn them for what he has done. This is my child, Mother”

Rhaenyra’s heart ached with a mixture of pride and sorrow. She held Lucella close, pressing a kiss to her forehead, her mind already racing to find a way to protect her daughter and the innocent life she now carried.

"You are strong, my sweet girl," she murmured. "But for your safety, and that of the child, we must keep the identity of the father a secret—at least for now. No one can know that the child belongs to Aemond”

Lucella nodded again, understanding the gravity of her mother's words.

The war had already torn their family apart, and the truth of her child's lineage could ignite a blaze that would consume them all.

"You will go to the Vale along with Aegon and Viserys, to stay with Lady Jeyne Arryn” said Rhaenyra, her voice firm with determination

Lucella's eyes widened slightly at the mention of her younger brothers. "Aegon and Viserys?"

Rhaenyra nodded. "Yes, they will go with you as will your dragon Silverwing. You will be well cared for in the Vale, but you must remain far from this war. Jacaerys has informed me that Lord Cregan Stark has agreed to take your hand in marriage, of course you being with child does complicate things, and I understand if you do not wish to follow through with the marriage-”

“What man would take a woman as his wife whilst she carries another man’s child” asked Lucella quietly.

“An honourable one-but it’s your choice my sweet girl, I will not force you” said Rhaenyra.

“I support my Queen, and I will consider the marriage”

Rhaenyra hugged her daughter tightly, as if trying to imprint this moment into her memory. "You are so brave, my love, I was truly blessed the day you were born"

As the embrace lingered, Aemond, still standing at the foot of the bed, felt an overwhelming urge to reach out to Lucella, to tell her that he had not meant for things to turn out this way.

But when he extended his hand, it was as if an invisible barrier prevented him from touching her.

He tried to call out to her, but his voice was lost in the void, drowned out by the increasing darkness that surrounded him.

The room, Rhaenyra, and Lucella began to fade, their voices becoming distant, muffled.

Panic surged through Aemond as he fought against the encroaching blackness, desperate to hold onto the last vestiges of the vision.

And then, in an instant, everything vanished.

Aemond jolted awake, gasping for breath. He was back in his bed at Harrenhal, the remnants of the dream clinging to him like a cold sweat.

His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with the revelation that Lucella was carrying his child. The weight of what he had seen, what he had heard, bore down on him like a leaden shroud.

This was no ordinary dream—it was a vision, a cruel reminder of the consequences of his actions.

Lucella, far away in the Vale, hidden from the war and from him, was carrying his child. A child he might never see.

Aemond sat there, staring into the darkness of his chamber, his mind a maelstrom of conflicting emotions.

The morning sun barely touched the horizon when Aemond stormed through the corridors of Harrenhal, his mind set with a singular purpose.

The events of the previous night, the vision of Lucella and the revelation of his child, had ignited a fierce determination within him. He could no longer afford to remain idle, bound by the chains of his own mistakes.

Ser Criston Cole, deep in discussion over battle plans, was abruptly interrupted as Aemond barrelled past him, disregarding his shocked protests.

The plans for an assault on Drarry, once deemed crucial, now seemed inconsequential in the face of the personal turmoil Aemond faced.

As he descended the stone steps toward Vhagar’s resting place, the sound of his hurried footsteps was interrupted by a familiar, unsettling voice.

“It’s too late,” Alys said softly, her tone almost too calm for the gravity of her words.

Aemond stopped abruptly, turning to face her. “What do you mean, it’s too late?”

Alys’ lips curled into a smile that held no warmth. “Lucella is no longer in the Vale.”

Aemond’s heart pounded as he demanded, “Where is she?”

Alys’ smile widened, her eyes glinting with a cruel delight. “Lucella now resides at Winterfell, as the soon to be wife of Lord Cregan Stark.”

The words hit Aemond like a physical blow. “What?”

Alys tilted her head, her gaze unwavering. “To secure the North for her mother, Lucella has agreed to wed the Warden of the North. It was a strategic marriage, one that consolidates power and allies. Your child will be raised in the North, under the protection of House Stark.”

Aemond’s face twisted in rage. “She carries my child! She belongs with me!”

Alys merely smiled again, her expression unchanging. “Aye, she carries your child. But Lord Stark is an honourable man. He has pledged to protect both Lucella and the child. Tell me, kinslayer, how does it feel knowing that your son will be raised by a wolf? That he will grow up calling another man father?

“You dare-” snarled Aemond, freezing as he felt something soft move across the back of he clenched hand.

He looked down and for the briefest of seconds a saw a flash of ribbon, gold and white.

“Your arrogance and pride have cost you the one thing you have sought your entire life. Lucella would have been a good wife; she would have loved you, given you many children. You would’ve had everything you ever wanted, but now, such things are lost to you.”

Aemond’s breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to comprehend the enormity of what Alys was saying.

The world seemed to spin around him, the walls of Harrenhal pressing in on him as if mocking his loss.

Alys turned to leave, her form slipping back into the shadows as she offered no further comfort or explanation.

Her parting words lingered in the air, a cruel reminder of the choices that had led him to this point.

Aemond was left standing alone, his thoughts a storm of anger, regret, and despair. The realization that Lucella, the woman he had wronged, would soon belong to another, and that his child would grow up under another man’s name, crushed him under a weight he could barely endure.

As Alys disappeared from view, Aemond sank to his knees, the full impact of his actions crashing down upon him.

Days blurred into an unrelenting haze for Aemond, each one melding into the next as the weight of his actions and their consequences pressed down on him.

The war continued, relentless and unforgiving. Strategies were drawn and redrawn, plans for battles and sieges were made and executed with grim efficiency.

Patrols scoured the countryside, small settlements loyal to Rhaenyra were attacked and burned, their inhabitants driven from their homes or slaughtered.

The brutality of the conflict seemed endless, a grim reflection of the turmoil within Aemond’s own mind.

Yet, despite the relentless pace of war, the nights were far worse.

In the darkness, where shadows danced and the silence of Harrenhal was punctuated only by the occasional crackle of the hearth or the distant rumble of thunder, Aemond was haunted by nightmares that left him waking in a cold sweat, his heart racing.

Lucerys appeared to him in his dreams. Sometimes, he came as a sweet-faced child, his eyes wide and innocent, his smile unblemished by the cruelty of their world.

Other times, Lucerys was a grotesque, rotting mass of flesh and bone, his once-pristine features now distorted by decay and violence.

His body was marred by deep wounds, the sight of him a horrific testament to the fatal consequences of Aemond's vendetta.

As if the visions of Lucerys were not torment enough, Aemond was plagued by the weeping sounds of Lucella.

Her voice, broken and plaintive, filled the nights with a sorrowful lament. She would ask, over and over, "Why?"—a question that cut through Aemond’s soul with a sharpness that left him gasping for breath.

He could not answer her, could not explain why he had allowed the rage and hatred within him to consume his compassion, why he had been driven to such cruelty.

And then came the visions of his brother Aegon, a spectre of burnt and charred blackened flesh.

Aegon’s form was twisted and unrecognizable, his once-familiar features now a nightmare of burns and disfigurements.

His ghostly voice would accuse Aemond of betrayal, of causing his suffering and letting him fall.

"We are brothers," Aegon would rasp in the dreamscape, the anguish in his voice palpable. "How could you do this to me? Do you truly hate me that much?"

These nightly horrors, each one a reflection of his deepest fears and regrets, eroded Aemond’s sense of self.

The lines between dream and reality grew increasingly blurred. He would wake up trembling, the echo of his nightmares clinging to him like a shroud.

The faces of Lucerys and Aegon, the sound of Lucella’s weeping, all of it haunted him with an intensity that made the waking hours a desperate attempt to outrun the demons that plagued his sleep.

In the harsh light of day, he would rise, draw his sword, and return to the cycle of war and violence, but the burden of his actions weighed heavily on him.

The faces of the people he had wronged, the blood on his hands, the dreams that taunted him with their cruel reminders, all mingled together in a relentless torment that made him question if there was any escape from the darkness that had now consumed him.

Aemond stood alone in the ruined courtyard of Harrenhal, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow over the desolate stone.

He had taken to spending his time in solitude, seeking solace in the cold embrace of the night sky and the silence that now enveloped the once-majestic castle.

His thoughts, tangled in regrets and what-ifs, churned restlessly as he gazed at the distant, indifferent moon.

The serenity of his isolation was suddenly pierced by the soft, unmistakable sound of a newborn baby's cry.

The sound was so incongruous with the emptiness of Harrenhal that it jolted Aemond from his reverie.

He followed the sound with a mix of confusion and desperation, his heart pounding with a sense of urgency that he could not explain.

He came to a stop before a set of weathered wooden doors, their surface marred by time and neglect.

With a deep breath, he pushed them open and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, and his eyes were drawn to Lucella, who sat on the edge of a bed, gently rocking a small bundle in her arms.

Aemond’s heart ached as he saw himself sitting on the bed beside her, taking the bundle into his own arms with a tenderness that seemed foreign and distant.

He watched as this other version of himself whispered softly, “ēdrugon ñuha zaldrītsos” (sleep my little dragon).

The warmth in his voice was palpable, and Aemond felt a pang of longing for a peace and connection he had never fully embraced.

Before he could process the depth of the moment, the room began to fade, plunging into darkness.

The sound of a child’s giggle echoed around him, drawing his attention.

Aemond turned to see a silver-haired boy, no older than six, standing proudly in the training grounds of the Red Keep.

The boy swung a wooden sword with a determined grin, his laughter ringing out as he called, “Watch me, Kepa! Watch me!” (Father).

Aemond’s heart warmed as he observed this tender scene, the boy’s eager energy a reflection of his own youthful enthusiasm.

He watched himself teaching the boy the skills of the sword with patience and affection.

The bond between father and son was evident in their shared joy and the way they moved together in a dance of instruction and play.

In an instant, the scene shifted again. Aemond found himself standing beside Lucella as she gave birth to a baby girl.

The sight of the child being placed into her arms, Lucella’s exhausted yet elated expression, was accompanied by the sound of his own cries as he held their daughter.

The raw emotion on his face was a testament to the profound love and vulnerability he felt.

The vision continued to shift, and he saw another version of himself taking his children flying on Vhagar, with Lucella flying beside them on Silverwing.

The thrill of the flight was unmistakable, the sky filled with the sound of their laughter and the roars of their own hatchling dragons soaring alongside them.

The scene was a vivid portrayal of a life filled with joy and familial bonding, a life that seemed so out of reach, but at the same time it seemed like a memory, one that he couldn't place.

Aemond felt an intense pressure in his chest, as if the weight of the vision was physically constricting his breath.

The laughter of his children, so vibrant and full of life, became a haunting reminder of what he had lost. The scenes began to dissolve, and the joy that had filled them faded into the encroaching darkness.

Gasping for air, Aemond reeled backwards, clutching his chest as if trying to hold onto the remnants of the dream.

He stumbled and found himself back in his chamber at Harrenhal, the oppressive darkness of the room pressing in on him. He slumped into the corner, his back against the cold stone wall, and the tears that had long been pent up finally broke free.

As Aemond cried, the sound of his children’s laughter seemed to be swallowed by the void, leaving him alone with the heavy, crushing weight of his regrets and the unbearable knowledge of what might have been.

Aemond sat in the cold, dark corner of his chamber, his body trembling as he sobbed uncontrollably.

The overwhelming flood of grief, regret, and torment seemed to crush him from all sides. He could barely breathe through the anguish that wracked his entire being.

He cried out into the emptiness of the room, his voice hoarse and pleading. "Leave me alone! Please, just leave me alone! I can't take it anymore-"

The silence that followed was heavy, almost oppressive, until Aemond felt a subtle movement in front of him.

He looked up, his tear-blurred vision struggling to focus, and saw Alys kneeling before him.

She reached out, her fingers gentle as they brushed through his dishevelled hair, an unexpected comfort in the midst of his despair.

Aemond, driven by an instinctive need for solace, moved forward and wrapped his arms around her, his grip desperate and tight. He buried his face in her shoulder, his cries muffled against her. "Please, stop tormenting me-to show me the chidren its cruel"

Alys remained still for a moment, her voice soft and almost serene. "Your only freedom is within the eye of the gods."

The words struck Aemond like a blow to the chest. He remembered his sister Helaena’s words, the chilling premonition she had uttered when he had begged her to come with him to Harrenhal and she had refused.

"Aegon will be king again," she had said, "he's yet to see victory, he sits on a wooden throne, and you'll be dead, swallowed up in the gods' eye, you were never seen again."

The memory was like a dagger twisting in his heart, amplifying the sense of doom that had followed him.

He pulled away from Alys, his face a mask of anguish and realization. "Leave me," he said, his voice breaking. "I wish to be alone, just as I always have been."

Alys’s hand reached out to him, a gesture of compassion, but he snatched it away with a harsh movement. His anger and sorrow surged together, mingling with a desperate need for solitude.

"I said leave!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

Alys stood, her expression unreadable, and then she slowly walked away, her footsteps fading into the distance.

As the last echoes of Alys’s departure faded, Aemond slumped back against the cold stone wall, the chill seeping into his bones.

He closed his eye, trying to shut out the overwhelming sense of loss and failure.

With a whisper barely audible even to himself, he repeated the one name that seemed to encapsulate his pain, his regret, and his longing: “Lucella.”

As the days dragged on, Aemond’s mind grew increasingly fragile, the weight of his regrets and visions pressing down upon him with relentless intensity.

The once-proud prince who had thrived on determination and strength now found himself teetering on the edge of madness.

Each night, the visions that plagued his sleep became more vivid, more insistent. Lucerys haunted him with that same blend of innocence and grotesque horror, Lucella’s weeping echoed in the corridors of his mind, and Aegon’s charred, accusing form lingered at the corners of his consciousness, sniping and hurling insults at him.

'Coward, treasonous dog and vile cunt' were some of the one's his brother favoured.

When word reached Harrenhal of Helaena’s death, Aemond’s fragile grip on reality began to unravel entirely.

The news that his gentle sister had thrown herself from the window of Maegor’s Holdfast struck him like a dagger to the heart.

Helaena, who had seen visions of the future in her dreams, had become yet another victim of the war that had torn their family apart. The shock of her death sent Aemond spiralling deeper into the abyss of his own despair.

He withdrew further from the world around him, preferring the cold comfort of solitude over the company of others.

He stopped attending the war councils, even as Ser Criston Cole and the remaining host of thirty-six hundred Greens prepared to march south from Harrenhal to meet the Hightower forces.

Aemond refused to join them, claiming he would follow later, though deep down he knew he had no intention of doing so.

Instead, he lingered in the empty halls of Harrenhal, haunted by the ghosts of his past and the weight of his failures.

He ate alone, trained alone, and slept fitfully in a chamber that seemed to grow darker and more oppressive with each passing day.

After Criston and the men had left, the silence in Harrenhal became deafening. The once-mighty fortress, now nearly empty, seemed to breathe with the echoes of lost battles and the whispers of curses long forgotten.

Aemond’s thoughts turned inward, his despair and grief consuming him whole.

There was no longer a way forward, no victory that could redeem the losses he had suffered. His mind circled around the same grim conclusion: there was but one way out now.

With a heavy heart, Aemond sat at a table in his chamber, a quill in hand. He stared at the blank parchment before him, the candlelight casting flickering shadows across his face. He hesitated for a moment, then began to write. finality, each stroke of the quill marking a step closer to his inevitable end. The letter was addressed to his uncle, Daemon.

"Daemon," the letter began, the words sharp and direct, "The time has come for us to settle this war as it should have been settled from the start—between you and me. I challenge you to meet me in the skies above the Gods Eye. Let this war end in fire and blood"

Aemond set the quill down, his hands shaking. He folded the letter carefully and sealed it with wax, pressing his sigil into the hot, red wax.

The task completed, he sat back in his chair, feeling the weight of the decision he had made settle heavily on his shoulders.

The room seemed to grow colder, the shadows lengthening as the candle flickered and sputtered. Aemond closed his eye, the sounds of Lucella’s weeping and the laughter of his lost children echoing in his mind.

The visions that had haunted him were not gone, but now, they seemed distant, as if they were preparing to leave him for good.

The next day, he would send the letter. And then, he would wait for the response that would seal his fate.

Two long weeks passed before Daemon finally arrived at Harrenhal.

Aemond spent those days in a fevered state of anticipation, his mind torn between dread and the fierce desire to end this war, to end himself.

When the day finally came, Aemond watched from the crumbling ramparts as Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm, descended from the skies, his crimson scales glistening like blood in the fading sunlight.

The sight of his uncle astride the fearsome dragon filled Aemond with a cold resolve. This was it. The end.

He made his way to Vhagar, and with practiced ease, Aemond ascended the rope ladder and secured himself into the saddle.

He could feel Vhagar’s own anticipation, the bond between rider and dragon thrumming with shared purpose. With a roar that shook the very stones of Harrenhal, Vhagar took to the sky.

The two dragons met in the air, their roars echoing across the sky.

They circled each other, two titanic forces of nature, before clashing in a fiery, savage battle. Vhagar and Caraxes locked talons, their wings beating furiously as they tore at each other with teeth and claws.

The sky above the Gods Eye was filled with the sound of snapping jaws, the ripping of flesh, and the heat of dragon fire.

Caraxes was the first to find purchase, his long, serpentine body coiling around Vhagar’s neck. With a vicious twist, Caraxes latched onto Vhagar’s throat, his fangs sinking deep into the thick scales.

Blood, hot and dark, poured from the wound, raining down upon the waters below. Vhagar let out a deafening roar of pain and fury, her massive wings beating frantically as she tried to shake the smaller dragon off.

In a final, desperate act, Vhagar managed to tear into Caraxes’ belly with her claws.

The Blood Wyrm’s entrails spilled out, steaming in the cold air. But Caraxes did not release his grip on Vhagar’s throat. The two dragons were locked in a death embrace, neither willing to yield.

As Aemond struggled to keep control, he looked up in time to see Daemon leaping from the back of Caraxes, his sword, Dark Sister, gleaming in his hand.

The older man’s face was a mask of grim determination as he hurtled through the air, landing with catlike grace in front of Aemond on Vhagar’s back.

There was no time to react as Daemon moved with the speed of a man possessed, thrusting Dark Sister into Aemond’s remaining eye.

The blade pierced through flesh and bone, driving deep until it burst through the back of Aemond’s throat. The young prince gasped, a final, choking breath escaping him as the world went dark.

Below them, the two dying dragons plummeted toward the Gods Eye. The impact sent a gargantuan splash of water into the air, the surface boiling with the mingled blood of the two beasts.

As Caraxes, his strength failing, clawed his way onto the bank, he let out a final, rattling breath before collapsing, dead.

Vhagar, her throat torn out and her life slipping away, sank beneath the surface of the lake, her massive form dragging Aemond’s lifeless body with her.

The weight of the ancient dragon pulled them both down into the cold, dark depths.

Aemond jolted awake, his hand instinctively pressing against his remaining eye, his heart pounding with the intensity of a nightmare that lingered as a grim reality.

The sensation of the sword piercing through him still felt vividly real, the ghost of pain haunting him as he tried to calm his racing breath.

The room around him seemed to spin, the shadows from his nightmare clinging to the edges of his vision.

He felt a gentle hand on his arm and turned sharply to see Lucella gazing at him with concern.

For a split second, he was paralyzed by fear, convinced that this was yet another vision sent to torment him.

He gasped, moving backwards and falling out of bed with a heavy thud that echoed in the quiet room.

Aemond scrambled to his feet, the words of the witch, telling him that his freedom lay in the eye of the gods, seemed to mock him from the depths of his confusion.

He began pacing the room, muttering to himself about the unreality of it all. “It’s not real- another vision-sent to torment me-why must you keep tormenting me” His mind was a tumultuous storm, and he could barely grasp the threads of sanity slipping through his fingers.

Lucella got out of bed and moved to his side, taking his hand and pressing it gently to her cheek.

“I’m real, ñuha jorrāelagon” she said softly, her eyes filled with a tenderness that cut through his panic (my love).

But then Aemond’s voice wavered as he asked about the war. “The Greens repudiated the succession-crowned Aegon as King. Lucerys-he died in the skies above Storm’s End. Jaehaerys was murdered in retribution. A son for a son-” His babbling grew frantic, but Lucella’s calm presence seemed to anchor him, if only slightly.

Lucella placed her hands on his face and shushed him gently. “All is well,” she assured him. “Your grandsire had the intent to crown Aegon, but he lost his head for it, along with those who conspired against my mother. But it was our marriage that truly united the family.”

Aemond blinked, stunned and stammering. “M-marriage? What about your marriage to Lord Cregan Stark?”

Lucella grimaced slightly. “Cregan? He’s married to Alysanne Blackwood.”

Aemond’s eyes widened in confusion. “He is?”

Lucella sighed, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “What in the hell was in that wine you were drinking with Aegon?”

Aemond paused at the mention of is brother.

"A-Aegon. How is he?"

“Other than being deep in his cups, he was fine the last time I saw him.” replied Lucella.

“What about Helaena?” Aemond pressed.

“She’s recovering well” said Lucella.

“F-From what?” asked Aemond.

“From birthing another child—a son named Maelor. That’s why you were drinking with Aegon; you were celebrating the news of his son.”

“S-Son? But he and Helaena, t-they d-don’t-” muttered Aemond.

“Things aren’t perfect between them, but in recent years they have found comfort with one another-Aegon is trying and that’s all we can hope for” said Lucella softly.

The revelations were disorienting, but the most startling came next.

Lucella glanced towards a corner of the room, where a soft babble could be heard.

Aemond’s attention snapped to the cot, and he moved swiftly to see the babe inside. He stared down at the child, who reached up toward him with tiny, outstretched arms.

He picked up the baby, cradling them gently, and rocked them with a sense of deep, overwhelming affection.

Lucella’s smile was warm as she observed him. “You always were better at soothing our daughter than I was,” she said.

Aemond looked at her, his eye wide with astonishment. “D-daughter? What about our son?”

Lucella smiled softly. “Aerion is asleep in his nursery across the hall.”

The enormity of it all seemed to sink in. Aemond was overwhelmed by the flood of memories that quickly returned to him—the execution of his grandsire, the crowning of Rhaenyra, the wedding to Lucella, the birth of their son, Aerion, and the moments of being with his family.

He remembered reading to Aerion, singing to him in High Valyrian, helping him learn to walk and talk. He saw Lucella beside him once more, giving birth to their daughter, Daenys.

Stunned and teary-eyed, he whispered, “It’s real-all of this is real.”

Lucella’s expression softened, and she gave him a playful pinch. Aemond winced, and Lucella’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she said, “Is that real enough for you?”

Aemond furrowed his brow but then his eye caught sight of the gold and white ribbon, delicately wrapped around a book.

Lucella followed Aemond's gaze and smiled, "The ribbon that bound our hands on our wedding day-"

"Y-You kept it" muttered Aemond, remembering the feel of it on the back of his hand.

"Yes-I did" replied Lucella softly.

Aemond’s face broke into a genuine smile as he leaned in to kiss her lips. She then went on her tiptoes, whispering in his ear, “I’m with child again.”

Aemond’s joyous laughter sounded round the room, his arms holding their daughter even closer.

“T-Truly?”

“Yes-it seems that your seed really likes to take root inside me ” replied Lucella smirking.

As Aemond pressed another kiss to her lips, his attention was caught by the door as it creaked open softly.

Aemond looked to see their son, Aerion, standing in the doorway.

The little boy was sucking his thumb and clutching a stuffed dragon teddy to his chest, his silver hair tousled from sleep. His big, round eyes gazed at his parents, filled with the innocent worry only a child could have.

Lucella smiled warmly at the sight of their son. "What’s wrong, sweet boy?" she asked, her voice gentle.

Aerion shuffled into the room, his thumb still in his mouth as he mumbled, “No sleep, Mama.”

Lucella’s heart melted at the sight of him. She walked over and scooped him up in her arms, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "How about some snuggles with your father?" she suggested softly.

Aerion nodded, his thumb popping out of his mouth as he hugged his stuffed dragon tighter. Lucella carried him to the bed and placed him beside Aemond, who had just settled with Daenys resting on his chest.

Aemond smiled tenderly as Aerion snuggled up against his side, seeking comfort and warmth.

Aemond gently adjusted his position, leaning back against the pillows to support both children.

Daenys, nestled on his chest, made small, contented noises in her sleep, while Aerion curled up close to his father.

The boy's tiny fingers clung to Aemond's loose cotton shirt, his stuffed dragon tucked securely under his arm.

Lucella climbed into bed beside them, her eyes filled with love as she watched her family. She reached out, gently brushing her fingers through Aerion’s hair before leaning into place a soft kiss on Aemond’s cheek.

Aemond turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze, and smiled—an expression filled with deep contentment and peace.

In that moment, Aemond felt like he finally had everything he had ever wanted. The weight of his past, the burdens of a war that would never come to pass, and the haunting visions that had plagued him all seemed to dissipate, replaced by the warmth and love surrounding him.

His family was whole, safe, and with him—everything else faded away.

As they all settled into the quiet, Lucella lay her head on Aemond's shoulder, her hand resting lightly on Aerion's form.

The gentle rise and fall of their children’s breathing filled the room, a soothing rhythm that lulled them all into a sense of serene calm.

Aemond glanced down at the two small faces resting against him, then over at Lucella, who smiled up at him, her eyes shining with the same love he felt in his heart.

The world outside could wait.

For now, in the sanctuary of their bed, surrounded by those he loved most, Aemond was content.

He finally had his family, his children, his wife—the life he had longed for, and it was more beautiful than he had ever dared to dream.

[everythingseasoning]

Suguru Geto - JJK character analysis (near complete?)

“I gave everything I had, and it failed. It all crashed in front of me. And nobody did anything— not before me— not now. I’m seeing something nobody else sees. I’m sitting in these shadows and nobody cares about me. And here Gojo is, not doing a thing— and they praise him.” - my interpretation of Geto’s thought processes post Riko Amane’s assassination.

Crying about Geto because he went through so much. Geto was compassionate and idealistic before he defected. After such intense, prolonged trauma caused by the darkness of humans, and after growing disillusioned towards the world due to how unhelpful jujutsu society was— Geto felt utterly confused, resentful, and abandoned. The very system that was supposed to represent goodness (Jujutsu Society) simply prolonged the cycle of pain and suffering. It failed everyone— it failed him. Everything he’d believed was a shattered mirror, reflecting the cracks and flaws of humanity— and Geto saw that. Jujutsu Society praised Gojo for his innate talent, whilst neglecting the cracks in its system and the world, and neglecting Geto. In Geto’s turmoil, Geto was overcome by disenchantment— losing his faith and shedding his past sense of self— his good nature replaced with bitterness towards Gojo, simultaneously accompanied with a developed, narrow perspective on normal humans. (As we see with “Are you the strongest because you’re Satoru Gojo, or are you Satoru Gojo because you’re the strongest?” — Geto brings up the age old question of nature Vs nurture. He’s essentially asking Gojo if his power is the reason for his success, or if his power shaped his identity. Who is Gojo? Did he get any choice in defining himself? —He didn’t. Gojo’s whole personality is based off of his power, which determined how he was treated— the Strongest, seen as a functioning tool. —And regarding Gojo’s power: What was once a deep admiration towards Gojo, turned into resentment and envy from Geto’s end, as Geto realized Gojo wasn’t changing the corrupt systems, nor did Geto have the luxury of power to have made a difference. Geto felt spurned, and also believed normal people were unworthy of ruling, and the only way to save the world from its already unjust systems was to overthrow everything and use power to rule. After all, power is all that matters in terms out how you can change the world, which is your worth in the world— and Geto wanted that. He wanted power. He wanted to be worthy the way Gojo was— he was hurting. Maybe if he had Gojo’s level of power, he wouldn’t be in this much pain. Maybe he would’ve been able to stop other people from being evil and actually have had footing in this world. Maybe people would be listening to him, appreciating him. —Or maybe, Jujutsu Society was just a phony, after all. And normal humans were useless to change anything— all they did, in Geto’s mind, was feed into the evil nature of the world. …Geto became resentful, callous, cold, evil because of the wrongdoings inflicted on him, which resulted in his misinformed beliefs about humans and his behavior run wild with blind spite. He truly believed that the pain he inflicted on humans was justified, and he reveled in it because he had been hurt so deeply and saw it as reparations, even.

Do I believe what Geto did was okay? Absolutely not. He had much too rigid a way of seeing humans— as all bad— and that was a fallacy. But he was only 17 when he faced such confusing, extreme, difficult circumstances, and it distorted his worldview. I can’t blame him. He WAS good. But being around constant darkness wore him down, thus he descended into a callous man devoid of empathy. His actions after defecting are deplorable and not okay, however, he truly deserves compassion too. Many others, had they been in his situation, would’ve ended up horribly warped too.

How could Geto have done better, so as not to become the evil, rigid and disillusioned, cold and harmful, person he became? This is an important question. I’m still figuring it out myself. This analysis is to be continued. For now I’d say that he was unable to empathize with humans beyond his own pain and suffering, and it’s a cautionary tale about how wrapped up we can get in our own trauma and suffering— which leads us to being incapable of seeing and understanding things beyond our own individual pain, which leads us to inflicting undue injustice into others. It’s crucial that we take the time to understand the depth and complexity of humanity. The inherent value in humans.

I’m sorry, Geto. For all you went through, and for ever judging you without the fuller scope of understanding. You deserved better.

[hermajestyimher]

Hello <3

I am currently 20, in the process of enhancing every aspect of my life so I would really appreciate if you could generously list your resources for self-improvement in general.

And one more question, how to make people take me more seriously? I am quite the youngest member in my family and everyone have always been so over-protective of me that they always see me as this little girl even though I am almost a grown woman lol.

Thanks!

Thanks for your question. I commend you for wanting to invest in yourself and self-improvement.

The resources I use to shape my mindset toward success are a mixture of books, podcasts, subliminals, and direct revelation from God. I'll break these parts down for you:

✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞

Books:

There are a lot of books out that deal with the topic of self-improvement and you are almost guaranteed to find some that will be able to help you in whichever area of your life you wish to get better at. The key, when it comes to these books, is that you have to find ones that you know you can action realistically in your life. Theory can be energizing and inspirational, but it is ultimately futile if you are unable to put the gained knowledge into reality.

You must seek books that are practical in their way of describing how to succeed in whatever subject they touch upon and focus exclusively on that specific book so that you may action its commands and see real results in your life.

I'll give you 5 books that I've used throughout the year that have helped me mold my character in meaningful and practical ways:

She Comes First, by Brian Nox.

Can't Hurt Me, by David Goggins.

The Alter Ego Effect, by Todd Herman.

Stop People Pleasing, by Patrick King.

Fabulosity, by Kimora Lee Simmons.

Podcasts:

Podcasts are a good way of keeping your mind "fed" constantly with content and knowledge from others. I use them not just for knowledge, but also for entertainment. I enjoy podcasts that deal with politics, human psychology and behavior, societal phenomena, travel and culture, business, success life stories, and even some niche topics of interest.

Whatever podcasts you choose to listen to will be a very personal choice. My rule of thumb is to not waste time listening to someone just because they seem authoritative in the field of self-improvement if the messages they are putting forward do not resonate with you. It's ok to be picky with this type of content.

Subliminals:

This is something that I've never touched upon before directly on my blog, but it is something that I've been digging into a lot lately and I've found has been positively impacting my life.

Subliminals are audio messages that we play in the background while we do other activities. The concept behind them is that our subconscious mind can pick up and internalize the messages being played and therefore can help in reprogramming our own internal self-concept and beliefs. It can help you manifest things because you genuinely believe that they are possible for you, rather than pretending.

Subliminals are extremely powerful because if utilized correctly they can help you shape your entire personality and perception of yourself towards one that is more self-loving, positive, and confident. It can help us erase the damage of harmful things we've internalized throughout the years and replace them with thoughts that are working in our favor.

If you or anyone else from the blog would like for me to dive deeper into this subject and share some of the subliminal that have helped me (including my own creations), please let me know!

God:

This part is simply all about having communion with God. I've found out that in the periods that I'm away from him and that I do not take our relationship seriously, I become an easier target for spiritual attacks and also less in tune with my spiritual gifts. It's hard to hear from him when my spiritual life is filled with so much baggage that does not come from him. And whether you are aware of it, everything around us is spiritual in one way or another: the music that we listen to, the people we spend time with, the places we live, the content we consume, the things we allow others to speak into our lives, etc.

It's important that I read my Bible, pray, and worship without ceasing. God purifies our spirits and removes bondages this way. He gives us a renewed mind full of discernment and peace. We can hear from him more clearly and be led through a path of prosperity.

This is something that I need to get back on with him, as I have fallen off throughout the years. But understanding that you do not have to make life alone and that investing in your spiritual life can only tenfold your riches in the physical realm is crucial for us to live a life of purpose and success.

✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞

I hope this list was helpful, and if you or other people would like to delve deeper into any of these or other subjects, please let me know.

[sleepy-jeans]

My Favourite Dead Boy Detecives Fanfics on Ao3 :)

to the pain (10456 words) by shadowquill17 Chapters: 2/3 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland Characters: Charles Rowland (DCU), Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Crystal Palace (DCU), Niko Sasaki, Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Hurt Charles Rowland, POV Charles Rowland, Blood and Injury, Blood Loss, Graphic Description, listen I got grabbed by the throat by this idea and I have no idea how I even made it here, Love Confessions, Charles is so in love with Edwin and that’s his priority even when he’s literally bleeding out, Temporary Character Death, YES I PROMISE IT’S TEMPORARY, Torture, Violent Thoughts, Angst with a Happy Ending Series: Part 5 of what the rest means (DBD fics) Summary: There is an orb full of souls and a wizard pissed off at them for breaking in, and then there is pain. Or, the one where Charles has the most important epiphany of his life at the worst possible time.

Starting off strong. This one made me cry, like a lot. It's not finished yet but I don't care girl, the first chapter is incredible. Like okay, Edwin is crying and I'm crying, what now?

Carry These Torches For You (1965 words) by that_trans_autistic_guy Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland, Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland & Crystal Palace & Niko Sasaki, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland Characters: Edwin Payne, Charles Rowland, Crystal Palace - Character, Niko Sasaki, Jenny Green Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, Autistic Edwin Payne, ADHD Charles Rowland, Cuddling & Snuggling, Families of Choice, Family Fluff, it is mostly just kinda cute shit, yall sent me a request via tumblr and well here we are, The Adventures of Orbwin and Chorb Series: Part 82 of Traumatized Dead Boys Summary: Charles would really appreciate a fucking break. Seriously, they all needed a day off. For weeks straight they’d been running around and frantically completing cases. None of them had really been resting well, but Edwin was completely toast. He’d barely sat down for more than a minute and pretty soon his form was going to force him to rest whether he liked it or not.

By that_trans_autistic_guy so you know its good. Really sweet and short. loved it <3 (Love Chorb with all my heart)

The case of the warlock (5559 words) by TheRamblingsOfaMadWoman Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Crystal Palace & Charles Rowland (DCU), Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Crystal Palace Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Charles Rowland (DCU), Crystal Palace (DCU) Additional Tags: Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, Charles hurts Edwin, Angst Summary: The gang come across a warlock. Charles is quite taken with him. Edwin is distrustful. Whose instinct is right? **Charles hurts Edwin

So well written oh my God. love the beginning, middle, and end. The emotional and physical trauma? *chef's kiss*

Burns and Hidden Pains (30299 words) by Infinite_beginnings Chapters: 8/8 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Crystal Palace & Charles Rowland (DCU), Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Crystal Palace & Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Crystal Palace, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland, Crystal Palace/Charles Rowland (DCU) Characters: Charles Rowland (DCU), Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Crystal Palace (DCU), Jenny Green (Dead Boy Detectives) Additional Tags: not really very shippy but can be read as a pre-ship for the boys if you want!, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, charles rowland whump, Whump, Protective Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Protective Crystal Palace, Hidden Injury, charles places all of his personal value on protecting his loved ones, and i just need him to be taken care of for a bit, questionable ghost science, listen i don't know the rules of this universe I'm just making it up as I go, Charles past abuse is alluded to, because that influences who he is as a character but its not mentioned in any detail ×, And characters still think Niko is dead and are dealing with the grief of that Summary: This takes place after the season ends. Both boys are a bit roughed up physically and emotionally from their trip to hell and Esther's treatment. They try to take care of each other but Charles is more hurt than anyone realizes.

Girl, my heart was pumping and everything like I was scared. Nice and whumpy, just how I like it. The definition of hurt/comfort.

Hold This (26196 words) by RoseGanymede95 Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Charles Rowland (DCU) Additional Tags: Graphic violence in this one, gratuitous limb-severing, Escape The Evil Wizard Dungeon, Charles Rowland Loves Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, so much it's frankly a liability, Brief Torture, surprisingly unrelated to the limb-severing thing, Mr. Potato Head Ghost Anatomy, Completely Unhinged Levels of Codependency, Charles Rowland Is Not A Role Model, Blood and Injury, the boys can't bleed but the bad guy can, Charles Rowland gets his Home Alone on, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Body Horror, should have tagged Body Horror way earlier, antagonists displaying some casual racism, discussions of racist bullying, Stitches, I need you to understand I really mean that Body Horror tag take care of yourselves Series: Part 2 of Who? You mean your teammate in the Codependency World Cup? Summary: “Alright, listen,” Charles said, after trying not to think at all for at least five minutes. “Hear me out.” “Any ideas?” Edwin asked, not looking up from his page. “It’s just. What would actually happen if you cut my hand off?” Edwin jerked his head up so fast, Charles wondered that he didn’t brain himself against the stone wall. He looked more offended than he had when he found out about the live snake in Charles’ bag. “What the hell kind of a question is that?” He hissed. “I’m not saying we should do it!” Charles backpedaled. “I’m just curious! These cuffs make us proper solid, don’t they? We could probably lop it off and get me out.” “No,” said Edwin emphatically. “We are not discussing this. I don’t want you getting any ideas and chewing your own arm off like a trapped weasel.” “Not my whole arm, just my hand.”

This one is my favourite (sorry). Like it is written like a published novel. The writing was phenomenal. The story was incredible. It was hilarious. It was cleaver. It was cute. And it was heartbreaking! I can't believe I can read this shit for free. 10/10 gold star.

[bonefall]

I personally like Thunder's prosthetic. Explained it to my friend (who does use a mobility device, a cane and wheelchair, and listens to me rant and infodump about BB) and they agreed, it's important to know that not every person needs what someone wants to give them. It's another example of "bad ableist person does a thing that hurts a disabled person because they are bad and ableist".

Clear Sky got Jagged Peak killed and would have killed Sunlit Frost! He would absolutely force his disabled son to be "normal" and present it like a privilege. "I wouldn't do this for anyone else, it's special, why don't you want to be helped?"

Thunder Storm should toss it in Clear Sky's face. (I would say toss it into the river but we do not pollute waterways in this house)

Thank you for telling me this, and tell your friend I'm thanking them too! If they have anything else to add please forward what they have to say

Since BB!DOTC tackles some of the heaviest topics in the entire series because its canon equivalent is so dark, I think very carefully about what I do here and how I show it. I take feedback on its sensitive aspects very seriously. If I'm understanding the criticism properly, it's that I should avoid stigmatizing prosthetics by making sure Thunder Storm's not the only one with it-- which he's not! And I'll add even more.

I don't want to avoid something only because it's uncomfortable if the topic is important, and my portrayal is respectful. Ableism IS uncomfortable! There are some situations where a prosthetic is not wanted! I think the rejection of this particular one is both a good opportunity to show a type of ableism and ALSO is very fitting for the characters.

In BB!Clear Sky's mind, the villain, he's fixing an old mistake. He can't admit that he got Jagged Peak killed or take REAL accountability for it (though he will, occasionally, apologize insincerely), but deep in his bones, he knows what he did was cruel. He'll never tell anyone this because he doesn't really cognate it himself, but Thunder Storm NEEDS to take his gift.

If Thunder doesn't take it, it blows a hole in his newest story. You see, throwing Jagged Peak out was All That Could Have Been Done back then. It was a Tragedy and he simply Made A Hard Choice. He regrets it very much, But You Have To Understand.

But now? Now? Well, behold. Look at what he's accomplished since the tragic death of his little brother. His cats are well-fed, cared for, and stable enough to make such incredible advancements. If only Jagged Peak had been able to hold on longer, if only he could be here now, I could fix him.

Just like I can (MAKE YOU JUST LIKE ME) fix you.

"Everything I've ever done is for Jagged Peak. For Fluttering Wing. For you." Thunder Sky is SPECIAL, but if he rejects any gift, tries to turn down the "privileges" offered to him, in an instant that becomes ungratefulness and arrogance. He both forces him to be special, and then leverages it against him if it's rejected. "Spoiled brat, doesn't appreciate what I've worked so hard to give him."

It all goes back to him and his own guilt. He can NEVER be wrong. He can't accept his family doesn't have to be "normal" or reflect his own ability. He won't see himself as a bully, let alone a murderer. It was never about his son's comfort or finding out what Thunder Storm wants or needs, it was about his own ego.

...All that said I'm still taking feedback if there's anything else I should keep in mind, or if anyone has a counter point, especially if you also have experience here.

(In the interest of having a link trail for posterity, here's the critique/call for feedback this is in response to)

[bluecatwriter]

I watched the Wildhorn/Black/Hampton Dracula rock opera!

Okay, okay, okay. As some of you know, one of the guys in my theater troupe got me comp tickets to see him in Dracula: The Musical. You guys. It was an EGREGIOUS adaptation that didn't even make narrative sense on its own terms. I also had a TOTAL BLAST. 

If you like the musical, no shade to you— please just keep scrolling and like what you like! However, I had so many thoughts about this that I had to word-vomit about it, and thought some of you might have fun reading my thoughts on the good, the bad, and ugly for 3,000 words.

TL:DR: Very fun experience, so glad I went, the play's narrative choices make me want to throw hands in a Denny's parking lot, much dunking/adaptation-hate ahead, my friends are amazing, I'm writing my own play now.

(CW discussion of rape, ableism, drug use, suicide)

-First of all, everyone take a moment to appreciate my eyeliner. I do not usually draw eyeliner that well so I was very proud of myself.

-I went with my sister, since we both knew people in the cast. (I thought we knew three, but we actually knew four: the actors who played Dracula, Mina, Lucy, and Quincey.) My sister didn't know anything about Dracula except what she'd picked up from my incoherent ramblings (which I generally keep to a minimum around her). 

-It was a black-box theater, which I didn't expect: six or so rows of chairs on each side of the theater, facing each other across the relatively small room, with the stage in the middle and a live orchestra (!!!) on one end. The set was a minimalist Gothic castle design, with windows, a freestanding moving wall, and a large platform that, throughout the play, served as Dracula's coffin, a table, Lucy's bed, Lucy's coffin, and just a general place to stand and sing in a badass way. I absolutely LOVE black box shows because they're so intimate: you can almost reach out and touch the actors, and you can see every minute facial expression and gesture, the light glittering in their eyes, and so on. (Acting in a black box theater is much more like movie acting because the audience can see what you're doing with your eyes in a way that regular theater doesn't allow, meaning that things like eye contact between characters is much more electric and effective.)

-The sound design and lighting effects were doing a lot of heavy lifting in this show, and they nailed it. Very spooky!

-The play began with the weird sisters, and they were consistently my favorite part of the play— the actresses killed it (ha), bringing an intense, spooky energy to the story, often serving as narrators, background singers, extras, special effects handlers (such as portraying the wreck of the Demeter), and the physical manifestation of Dracula's will/presence. They were AWESOME.

-I had decided in advance that this play was a fanfiction written by Dracula about himself, and nothing about the show dissuaded me from this idea. The guy who played Dracula served major cunt from the moment he stepped onstage, wearing leather pants with laces up the side and a big sweeping coat and a huge amount of eyeliner that really brought out his unnervingly blue eyes. ("All guys should wear eyeliner and leather pants," I joked to my sister after the show, and she responded, with the most haunted look I've ever seen, "I agree about the eyeliner, but not the pants. I lived in San Francisco for three years, and you know not what you speak of. There are things I cannot unsee.")

-Actually, to be honest I liked Dracula's characterization (until the end; see below); whether because of the director or the actor or both, this version really did not downplay what a bastard he is. He was incredibly ruthless, in all senses of the word: focused on a single goal and not caring who got mowed down in the process. Anytime his sung lines talked about him being lonely or sad or whatever, the actor played it off as him trying to garner sympathy from his listener, rather than expressing his true feelings, which was a directing/acting choice I really appreciated.

-When Jonathan came on stage (from the door just a few feet away) I nearly squealed with delight! He just RADIATED "biggest sweetheart you've ever met" energy: tall and lanky and with a scruffy lil beard and clothes that didn't quite fit. I was in love with him from the beginning. Also he got to mention his Kodak camera, and I remembered that I could not actually cheer at moments like that because that would be weird.

-The Dracula-Mina "romance" was introduced very early, which I appreciated; from a storytelling perspective, it was good to have that continuous thread. Dracula looks at a picture of Mina, mentions how young she is, asks Jonathan if she is "pure," and then decides that they're soulmates. It was SO PERVY. Once again, I loved the Dracula characterization. If only it had stayed one-sided…

-I was fortunately warned that in this version Jonathan takes the crucifix off so the weird sisters can continue attacking him, but I still had to suppress a "BOOOOO!" (I did whisper "NOT CANON!" to my sister, and later she said that when that happened in the play she was like, "Oh, okay, I don't care what happens to this guy now.") But I guess it did have the effect of making him less sympathetic, which served the story the play was trying to tell.

-I was pleased that there was a Drac-drinking-from-Jonathan scene, and consistent with the storytelling, Drac had a whole song about how he needs Jonathan's blood so he can be young and hot and go seduce Mina (which, again, fits with the story they were telling). They decided not to have any sexual tension between Dracula and Jonathan, so the blood-drinking scene was pretty brutal (complimentary)— Jonathan laid out on the platform with Drac just. gnawing on his neck while Jonathan writhed and convulsed. It was still kinda hot though not gonna lie

-Lucy's characterization at first was pretty interesting, because her song about the three suitors (and the directing/acting) made it seem like she was just kinda stuck with three mediocre choices, and chose the least offensive one (Arthur, who she describes as boring and can't even think of one nice thing to say about him) and tried to convince herself that she would be happy. This was honestly the biggest moment where I had to just squirm in my seat to keep from actively booing. Don't be so mean 2 my boy! From a storytelling perspective, it wasn't clear at all why she chose Arthur, because Quincey was the only one of the suitors who had any personality at all (even Jack was bland. JACK. WAS BLAND. YOU COULDN'T HAVE HIM SIT ON HIS HAT OR AT LEAST FIDDLE WITH HIS LANCET? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???). Anyway, Arthur was actually totally fine after that song (and had some nice lines in the group songs).

-Meanwhile, Drac is creeping on Mina by entering her thoughts without her consent and being like, "We're soulmates," and she just…. goes along with it???? With literally no rhyme or reason to her decision???? I know some of this is that I hate the whole concept of soulmates, but I expected at least SOME justification for why she was interested in him. There was no indication she was unhappy with Jonathan; there was no hint of any emotional connection; there wasn't even some weird "reincarnated lover" story to try to soften how incredibly strange it felt that Mina was randomly in love with this guy's voice in her head. His baritone is sexy BUT IT IS NOT THAT SEXY. GIRL PLEASE.

-In this version Dracula bites Lucy because he's trying to call Mina to him and Lucy comes by accident and he's like, "Well, nothin' I can do about that. CHOMP." Which, again, I honestly liked this characterization because he's not apologetic about who he is; he is just destroying everyone in his way and not caring about them as people. He just has a goal and he'll do anything to reach it.

-Then of course Lucy's like, "Oooh that was actually so sexy and I never want to wake up from that dream of him chomping on my throat." The directly seemed to imply that being bitten by a vampire just. instantly turns you into something that's not yourself, so I could kinda excuse it if I squinted, but it was still pretty icky.

-Renfield got to stab Jack! My sister felt sorry for Jack (because all his unethical science got shaved off in this adaptation) and I was just like, "YESSS RENFIELD YOU GO!" 

-Jonathan shows up again, in a wheelchair (a really cool old-fashioned one), and Mina goes to marry him, and their marriage is paralleled with Lucy and Arthur's while Drac looms in the background. The double wedding was a nice staging choice, although the optics of Mina somewhat reluctantly marrying disabled Jonathan while abled Dracula is standing by being All Sexy was… uh, it was not great. But on the plus side, maybe it emphasizes the ableism that a lot of people have toward Jonathan's disabilities in the story, bringing them out into the open? (I am grasping at straws here.)

-Van Helsing was perfect! The actor had wild gray hair and forehead bumps and a tenor voice that could shatter your heart into a million pieces. He did a great job of having the "weird professor" vibes even though his lines were more coherent and to-the-point than they are in the book. 

-No blood transfusions, sadly, but I see why they cut that part.

-Lucy turning vamp was very well done. I think I should mention at this point that the actors who played Dracula and Lucy are actually married to each other in real life, and they had really crackling chemistry and it was clear in every scene they were together that they were having just the best time. "Life After Life" was my second-favorite song in the play because it's just Dracula sending Lucy out to eat people— and again, both actors were clearly having SO MUCH FUN performing this song together. At the end of the scene I was all pumped up, like, "Yeah Lucy! Go eat some people!!!"

-Intermission. I told my sister this was like the part in Rashomon where the rapist tells the court his point of view and is like, "Oh, she totally wanted it." My sister shook her head at me and chuckled.

-The graveyard/Bloofer Lady scene was genuinely horrifying; Lucy's actress did an AMAZING job of amping up the horror, beginning the scene by cradling a baby and singing it a lullaby, then just CHOMPING down on it, and throwing it down and hissing like an animal when the Crew of Light approached her. Mina and Jonathan were in that scene, too, and even though Mina didn't have any lines, seeing her reacting to it (rushing to grab the child, dodging out of Bloofer!Lucy's snapping jaws) gave the scene a lot of emotional intensity. 

-Both Bloofer!Lucy's death and Renfield's death were directed beautifully; they were both somewhat quiet, almost slow motion, focused not on the violence but on the emotional weight of both their lives ending.

-Jonathan and Arthur, while both being incredibly bland characters, have I think more dialogue in this play than they do in the book. Every time they spoke I was like, :D :D :D! My blorbos!!!

-Throughout Mina's whole song "Please Don't Make Me Love You" (sung, of course, to Dracula) I focused VERY HARD on my friend's amazing acting, her beautiful voice, the way she was playing this with absolute conviction, while in the back of my head I was screaming. Just a primal, Nazgul-like shriek. GIRL WHY (I think my sister was amused by how much I was squirming)

-Van Helsing has a nice little song about his dead wife, saying that it was a vampire that killed her and that's why he's a vampire hunter now. He was also shooting up with a comically large syringe during this song, but sure, yeah, that's fine. Like I said, his voice was SO BEAUTIFUL, so I was entranced. If only he had gotten a chance to find connection and family ties in order to continue that character arc HINT HINT

-Ah, then we get the Blood Baptism scene. Mina sings a song about how she doesn't want to run away (because of that sexy baritone voice I guess) so she invites Dracula into her room, he knocks out Jonathan, and then they make out over Jonathan's body. Le sigh. The funniest part of this scene is that they had her drink from his chest but they didn't use any fake blood, so he just unbuttons his shirt and she buries her face in his boobs, no context. I asked my sister afterward, "What did you think was going on in that scene?" and she said, "I figured she was drinking from his vampire-milk titties."

-Van Helsing and Dracula got an "I will take you down!"-style song that was actually really cool.

-Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, BOOK-CANON MINA SHOWS UP! She was in a wheelchair now (a great directing choice, I thought), and demanded that Van Helsing hypnotize her, insisted on them keeping the information from her so that Dracula can't get to it, makes them all vow to kill her, and figures out where Dracula is going based on the maps. I was like THERE SHE IS! THERE'S MY GIRL! …But unfortunately this characterization makes no sense in the story the musical is actually telling. Why is Mina leading them to him? Why is she taking such pains to make sure Dracula is not warned of their coming? It didn't fit with any of her characterization in the rest of the play (and especially not with the ending), so it felt really cobbled-together and odd.

-Also Jonathan vows to kill her and there's a whole song about how sad he is that he will have to do that. I was gritting my teeth the whole song being like It's a storytelling choice it's a storytelling choice it's a storytelling choice it's a storytelling choice it's a

-Okay. YOU GUYS. YOU GUYS. The song "Deep in the Darkest Night" WAS AMAZING. It's a song by the Crew of Light (and in this version, sung by all six of them, including Mina) about their quest, and how they must be points of light in the darkness. It was SO BEAUTIFUL and SO THEMATICALLY ON POINT and it was EVERYTHING I WANTED from a Dracula musical and it is a CRIME that the whole play was not built around these themes and motifs!! *chewing on the scenery* Also, holy cow, everyone in the cast could sing like nothing else. Full-body chills. Stunning, incredible, showstopping, no notes.

-In one of the hypnotic sessions, Dracula came to stand behind Mina and they sang a duet, a reprise of "Life After Life" (the song for Bloofer!Lucy), and that was an incredibly effective storytelling choice (also their voices just blended so. well. together that even in the songs I hated, I still got chills because their voices were SO DANG BEAUTIFUL TOGETHER). Again, I am haunted by what this play could've been if the Drac/Mina thing was one-sided.

-In this version, Quincey gives Mina his Bowie knife for protection, which I thought was sweet.

-Drac has a big sad-boy song about how he's actually in love with Mina now. BOOHOO MOTHERFUCKER. NO ONE CARES.

-Quincey got killed by trying to stake Dracula and Drac grabbing the stake and shoving it into his stomach. (My sister gasped and squeaked, "No!" when this happened.)

-Meanwhile, Van Helsing and Mina get separated, and Mina has a whole song about how she's made her final decision: she's gonna become a vampire and live with Dracula forever. At this point in the play I was like, Okay, girl, whatever, you do you…

-But then. BUT THEN. *frothing at the mouth*

-(Don Black and Christopher Hampton meet me in the Denny's parking lot I just want to talk)

-Drac's like, "Ooooh no actually I don't want you to be a vampire so you need to kill me now."

-Mina's like, "Nooooo this makes me so sad I have chosen to be a vampire and it is what I truly want!"

-Drac's like "Nobody cares what you want because the authors couldn't care less about your agency as a person"

-Mina's like "nooooooooo i'm so saaaaaad!"

-(Me: *still frothing at the mouth*)

-Finally, weeping, she takes Quincey's knife and places it over his heart.

-And then SHE DOESN'T EVEN FUCKING KILL HIM HE JUST GRABS HER HAND WITH THE KNIFE IN IT AND KILLS HIMSELF

-Like, I am just so mad that Mina doesn't even get the tiniest bit of agency here at the end. She is just blown about by the whims of the men, and at the end none of her narrative choices are respected in any way. A lot of this is, I'm sure, the directing for this particular performance: if I were trying to make this ending a bit more narratively satisfying, I would give Mina a moment where you can see her agreeing with him and deciding to kill him herself. This ending just felt… cheap. It didn't even form a satisfying closing even based on the rules of its own storytelling. It was so ridiculous that I actually had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing. 

-After the show we got to talk to all our friends who were in it and it was easy to sincerely compliment them because they all did an AMAZING job. I feel so honored to be friends with such amazingly talented people!

-We drove home in a lightning storm while blasting Blondie's song "One Way or Another" (my sister said she was thinking of this song all through the Drac/Mina story arc) and singing loudly along. "ONE WAY OR ANOTHER/I'M GONNA FIND YA/I'M GONNA GETCHA GETCHA GETCHA GETCHA!"

-I asked her which two characters she thought I shipped the most and she guessed Jonathan/Quincey. Not a bad guess.

-Got home, rambled to my very tired spouse, curled up in bed, turned to him and said, "I promise to never leave you for some random dude who speaks in my head and says we're soulmates," and he replied, "And I promise to never leave you for three sexy vampire ladies," and if that's not a wedding vow renewal I don't know what is.

-Laid awake for nearly two hours brainstorming a Dracula play (not a musical, I'm not that talented). And, uh… yeah. A script is gonna happen. I've written plenty of plays (and co-directed/co-produced a few times), so it's definitely in my wheelhouse, and my brain will not shut up with ideas. So! *tosses it onto list of creative projects*

----

(P.S. If you reblog, please don't tag this as the Dracula musical because I don't want any fans to be exposed to the hate. Thanks!)

[charpeach]

I think you've created the best leshy and the best heket, both in terms of design and the posts and reblogs you've made.

but I would like to tell you that frogs don't have tails, heket is not a tadpole and that anura literally means tailless

Hi. I appreciate your message and thank you for the kind words about my designs.

Since the topic of Heket's tail seems to be appearing quite frequently in my and other artist's ask boxes, here's what I have to say.

This is your reminder that it is not okay to comment on people's artistic choices like that.

Art is art, and it begins in the artist.

Art exists to express its creator. It's to put their ideas, their love and passion towards a character or a franchise as a whole into something that others can see (listen to, read, touch, I'm not speaking just about paintings).

Art is a shared experience. It is to be observed.

And it is not an artist's job to try and fit their work into every frame that some people on the internet may have created for themselves.

Heket is not a frog. She may appear so, but her existence in a regural frog's body had ended very long time ago.

She's a goddess. A fallen and defeated one, at last, but the divine essence has intervened with her existence so much that it can't ever be taken away from her.

Frogs aren't fifteen-ish times the lamb's height. They don't have additional sets of eyes and the definitely do not have some weird crosses and tower looking like things sticking out their head. Oh, right, and they don't have tails too.

Cult of the lamb is a fantastic fictional world, with magic, relics, gods and ???. Narinder used to possess an ability to rip his face open and detach his eyeballs from their sockets to have a fight with lamb.

I don't see any good reason why in given circumstances Heket's current body can't have a tail. She still has other eyes and crosses, even though I don't include the latter in my art.

Once again, art is art and my design is my design. I've made that decision and I'm well aware that it may not be accurate to real life biology. Question awaits, why in the world should it?

I used to grow toadpoles into frogs in an aquarium a while ago. I've watched them go through every stage of development, I've seen them change and transform, and it isn't a momentary process. The tail doesn't suddenly fall off. The toadpoles first grow their back legs, then front ones, and by the time the latter are fully formed, they still have their tail for about a day or two. So, here's your biological explanation: her current body is very, very young.

I chose to include the tail in the design as a metaphor of bishop's rebirth. Her mind may be old, but right now she's like a child in a world that is so new and unfamiliar to her. She has to go through everything that all young people have to.

This post might seem just out of place, as if I'm looking too much into a simple comment like that one. But I've seen just one too many artists bullied into thinking that their ideas or choices aren't valid and do not matter. They were forced to change their beautiful works because someone else had told them to.

So let me tell you something instead.

You don't have to change your art. You can make whatever artistic choices you want, and they are valid, and they are beautiful, because they are yours.

We wouldn't have a quarter of the diversity and creativity in art if a long time ago one artist their contemporaries claimed to be weird and incorrect submitted to them and returned to only drawing what they thought were allowed.

Frames are to be broken.

I love you all, thank you for reading this.

[rwrbficrecs]

Readers' Choice Rec List Part 1 of 7

To celebrate 500 followers we thought we'd do a special rec list featuring recs submitted by all of you, the readers ❤️ Though at the time of posting this, we're at 800+ followers 🥺 From the volunteers and I, thank you for supporting this blog. We hope it's been a helpful resource! Hope you enjoy these recs, with a little comment from the reader. Thank you to everyone who submitted a fic rec 🥰 I'll be posting a list everyday till all 7 parts are posted Go and leave these authors some love ❤️ Happy Reading! Theme: A fic that you’d like to celebrate and give some love to ❤️ the poem you make of me by @omgcmere

@celaestis1: Just as they speculate under the linden tree, Henry is a writer; Alex a model. The story is just so beautiful, sweet and smutty and funny.

Omakase by @orchidscript

@historicallysam: Orchid made me fall in love with a brash American who wants respect and a stoic Brit who wants to be himself. I could read this story every single day.

We'll Invite Something In by @smc-27

@historicallysam: President ACD & HRH Prince Henry, grown up and willing to work for what they want. It's one of my top two favorite stories in this fandom.

Spoke Love to Soul by @celaestis1

@emmalostinwonderland: The story is gripping, the characters are compelling, and the myth they chose is really under-appreciated. I rode the entire rollercoaster of emotions with this one, and I would gladly do it again.

cover to cover by Anonymous

anon: The characters' voices are amazing and the narration is just super sweet! A feel-good fic for anyone craving a good intimate time.

On Thin Ice by @pirates-against-heterosexuality (WIP)

anon: A really sweet, in progress, NHL AU. It's in progress but It's really enjoyable so far, especially as it draws a lot of similarities to book moments, without being a copy.

Heartaches and Cupcakes and Sunshine Boys by @everwitch-magiks

anon: This was the first RWRB fic I read, and it's still my favorite! Henry as a writer (and her skill writing as Henry) and the emotional depth of this fic are things I need in every fic!

love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves by @kapplebougher

anon: I am simply OBSESSED with this oneshot, I scream about it to anybody that will listen. I come back and read it every time I read the climax of Alex and Henry's argument in London. It is Henry POV and the first time I read it I truly wondered if it was CMQ writing Henry fic on AO3. Not only does it build on the signet ring and give background on what it means to Henry and parallels it with his parents, but it also weaves fire/water symbolism for Alex/Henry. The thing that gets me is the quote at the end though. It's just like the queer historical quotes from the emails in the books and it makes the ending SO PERFECT it just makes me go feral. I wish I could give it all the kudos!

Picture On Your Corkboard by bleedingballroomfloor

anon: absolutely beautiful and a roller coaster of emotions. 100% recommended.

religion's in your lips (even if it's a false god) by @coffeecatsme

anon: NSFW but also incredibly good and i need everyone to appreciate billie's writing!!!

Someday We Will Be Home by witchseeker1133

anon: this fic is incredibly special to me bc it was one of the first ones i read. it is very angsty but i think its worth a read.

[balioc]

Is this a concept-formulation that's already kicking around out there somewhere? It might well be. It feels like the sort of thing that someone would already have developed. But it's new to me, at least, so I'll muddle around with it as best as I can.

On one end of the spectrum, you've got the musical hook. A hook is maybe two seconds of music, if that. And when you hear it, if it's good, you get a concentrated spike of -- oh, yeah, that's the shit right there, this exact experience in this exact moment is fucking awesome. And then, as soon as it's come, it's gone. All you can do is wait for it to come back later in the track, or rewind a few seconds, or maybe just replay that tiny little scrap of music in your head.

The pleasure of a good hook is incredibly condensed. It doesn't even really extend into the rest of the song, let alone into the rest of your life. To experience it, you have to be listening to those exact few bars (if only in your mind). It has no penumbra, no shades-of-experience that color other aspects of your existence. On the other hand, well...when you're listening to those exact few bars, you know it, and it's great. If it's a good enough hook, you kinda just want to listen to it over and over again, like you're popping Pringles or something.

All the way on the other end of the spectrum, you've got something like a traditional-style TTRPG campaign.

Even when it's being run masterfully, a game like D&D has a very low proportion of that's the shit right there moments, and a very high proportion of tedious yak-shaving stuff. Every so often you get your critical success in a high-stakes moment, every so often you get your awesome monologue or your big-drama scene or whatever...but for every moment like that, there's a hundred moments or more of the other stuff. The commonplace D&D play experience is famous for its vast amounts of OOC joking-around, which is not how things look when people are deeply engaged with the art on a moment-by-moment basis. And, of course, not every campaign is run masterfully. Sometimes boredom, or eye-rolling, is what you get in almost every moment.

And yet people love their D&D campaigns, like really incredibly a lot, and are deeply affected by them, and not-uncommonly have their whole lives changed by them.

The correct model here, I think, is that the pleasure generated by that kind of TTRPG experience is super diffuse. It's almost all penumbra. The awesomeness doesn't inhere in any one moment, or even any one scene or any one story arc. It inheres in the broad strokes of the campaign, in the ongoing knowledge that YOU ARE YOUR COOL CHARACTER and you go on a million cool adventures, in the mythos and the running jokes that add up invisibly over time into magic. And it pervades the entirety of your existence. You can think about it when you're lying in your bed, you can chat about it with your friends over lunch, and the awesomeness is just as much there as it is when you're actually playing. Maybe more so.

**********

Once you start looking at art through this variable-diffusion-of-appreciation lens, you can see many different points on the spectrum.

It's obvious that a short story is more concentrated than a novel, which is more concentrated than a series; it's obvious that a movie is more concentrated than a TV show. But it's not just the choice of medium that pushes in one direction or the other. It's a million different choices concerning content and style. Lushly descriptive language, in prose fiction, serves to concentrate the reader's appreciation into the moment of reading -- it forces the expenditure of extra attention for the sake of creating a beautiful mental moment, which in the vast majority of cases will be gone and forgotten almost instantly. Abstracted and philosophical language does the exact opposite, pulling the reader out of the narrative for a little bit for the sake of giving him something to roll around in his head. Suspense, and surprising plot developments, are concentration techniques that can have their full effect only during the transition from unspoiled-to-spoiled (and they serve to emphasize and heighten the moments of that transition). Archetypical, iconic plots are diffusion techniques that trade predictability-in-the-now for satisfaction-in-contemplating-the-story-later.

Sitcoms strike me as being vehicles for diffuse appreciation, to a huge extent, even more than other TV shows of comparable length etc. Much of what makes them good is just the presence of the characters and their distinctive shticks in your mindscape, in a way that builds from episode to episode without any particular grounding in specifics. When I think about a sitcom that I like, I find myself concluding that I like the show overall more than I like any single given episode. Which is weird, right? You'd expect some sort of bell-curve thing where the best episodes, or even the best individual moments, rise up above the averaged-out mass of the whole. But no.

**********

Fannishness is, overall, a very diffuse form of appreciation. This is true in the very-obvious sense that you're enjoying the work during a time when you're not actually consuming the work, by dint of consuming/producing fanworks and talking with other fans etc. But it's also true in the somewhat-less-obvious sense that the enjoyment-of-the-thing usually ends up very unrooted in the specifics of the thing, the plot beats and characterization details and so forth. You have a big beloved vibe, with lots of bits and bobs attached, and you can take the bits and bobs you like best and rearrange them however you like best when you're engaging in fandom.

**********

I believe it is overall true that concentrated appreciation is much more legible than diffuse appreciation. More legible to artists and art theorists, more legible to marketers and consumers. When you talk about art being good or bad or successful or unsuccessful, it's very easy to think in terms of "what is it like to consume this moment-by-moment?", and much harder to think in terms of "how does each piece of the work pervade the whole of the work, and also the general thoughtscape of the consumer?" For this reason, concentration techniques are associated with prestige, and high-prestige analysis tends to focus on a work's ability to generate concentrated appreciation.

...I also believe that different people want to be appreciating art, in the ideal case, at different levels of diffusion. There are people for whom a good artistic experience means lots of crack-hit awesome moments, and others for whom a good artistic experience means getting to live in an infinite penumbra, and others who fall at every point in between.

**********

For reasons I may discuss later, I think this concept-suite is extremely valent to the construction of theater LARPs, and the tension between people who expect more-concentrated enjoyment and people who expect more-diffuse enjoyment is responsible for a lot of the Wars Over What's Good within that sphere.

[wastrelwoods]

meg’s hannibal fic recs

hurrah for accumulating enough hannibal fics to finally organize some into a sexy little numbered list (which is comprised of three subsections. tee hee i am so organized) i am leaving out some better-known and appreciated fandom classic tastemakers just because I tend to assume people have run into those on their own but of course there are some all time faves there too. this is just already so long, holy shit,

🫀 PART THE FIRST : CANONVERSE [heartwrenching character studies, missing scenes, divergences, etc]

coffee cake by bones_2_be | 82k | hannibal leaves alone after digestivo, and will stays in wolf trap. in the middle of a snowstorm, hannibal comes back to visit. a really sweet and complex slow burn that's especially satisfying to reread in inclement weather and always leaves me craving comfort food

tenderdest touch leaves the darkest of marks & the hardest of hearts by det395 | 28k | 2part divergence from season 3b | hannibal and will end up on the wrong side of the door to his BSHCI cell. THE IMAGERY is so unparalleled the twists and turns are so masterful and the integration of silence of the lambs elements in a completely unexpected way is SO fun. PERFECT

Il falò delle vanità by More_night | 17.8k | missing scenes, one per season | will and hannibal get drunk together and skirt the edges of a years-long discussion of love, destruction, and veneration. these snapshots in their increasingly tumultuous relationship and the things that change and the things that don't....ooh wee

purple hyacinth by petrodactyl352 | 3.5k | missing scene in the season 3 timeskip | scenes from will's wedding day, featuring hannibal, alana, and will. SO full of lovely pining and a fun exploration of the interplay between these characters

culinary substitution by anbarelectrum | 8.8k | mid season 3 | will's old family meets his new family. THE choice of POV for both sections lends so much to this fic and it's a great tense little vignette that explores the dynamics at play in a really clever and exciting way while being very fair and evenhanded with all characters involved. and i LOVE the conclusions drawn

trotline by colonel_bastard | 7.7k | missing scene in season 2b | will takes hannibal fishing. just a CRAZY character study. the whole of will graham writ small in a way that boils my blood to think about. (feat. extremely detailed and visceral animal death)

after the silence has returned by fahye | 2k | post-canon | domestic autocannibalism? hannibal preparing meals with will's blood for both of them to share. just very short and sweet and good

the other side of the mirror by nbcravenstag | 7.5k | mizumono | will leaves hannibal's house after their last supper torn between two impossible choices. then will turns the car around.

everyone but me by det395 | 2.7k | listen i get why more people aren't writing fic in this fandom that is wheeze-laugh-until-your-lungs-give-out funny but you know who is doing it well? @will-gayham gets a double rec for this one

the purpose of blood by basingstoke | 5k | lovely and concise post-fall getting-together fic with a very precise and adept hannibal POV. yes there are a wealth of good post-canon fics but this is my favorite! so there! 

🫀PART THE SECOND : DAMN GOOD AUs [transformative and matchless in their creativity ]

airlock by murdertrout | 9k | scifi horror romance | the spaceship's AI has been killing off the crew. will is on a mission to stop it. i love the nonlinear structure & the way that exploration of the humanity of an AI works so well with hannibal's whole thing & the exploration of bodies and codependency (&sweet robot lovin)

the back foot by spqr | 8.5k |  kind of a pretty woman vibe, a little romcom and a little crime thriller. ANYWAY i can be reticent about sex work AUs but there's such verisimilitude in this one specifically for how many part-time gigs will is working and i think its great that the full service SW is treated basically the same as the column writing and dog-walking. it's all skilled work that's a little bit of a slog and really he wants to be free to get back to the romance subplot

it never sings vain by chaparral_crown | 117k | midsommar inspired folk horror au | exquisitely painful to read from start to finish, feels like eating your own beating heart, heavily recommend (feat. extremely vivid and graphic depiction of suicide right out the gate)

long live the knife by tei | 29k | baroque musician au | STICK THE FUCK WITH ME HERE you'll  like this so much even if you don’t know much about that. you will. the depth of research that clearly went into this fic is one of the best i've ever seen and breathes so much life into this concept and will and hannibal both fit into this space in such nuanced and interesting ways! questions of bodily autonomy and god and death and art? johann sebastian bach is there?

all of history [deleted with one stroke] & coercive notions re-evolve by serindrana | 69k | sleeper agent/mind control au that leans into psychological horror | pt 1 is a season 1 vignette: hannibal tries to take advantage of will's fevered brain and finds that it is not the terra incognita he had expected. pt 2 is a plottier fic: while trying to recover his missing memories in the BHSCI, will blacks out and wakes up at hannibal's house, where he slowly pieces together the history that has been hidden from him (feat. dubious consent and torture)

🫀PART THE THIRD : EARNING THAT XXX RATING [canonverse or not but most importantly, good n horny]

rabbit hearted by bleakmidwinter | 18.5k | post-fall getting together fic | i am a sucker for this very specific mix of romantic tension and intimacy negotiation and apparently not at all immune to the allure of 'gay sex feat. this straight guy who is about to get his mind blown' 

sweet milk by lazybaker | 21.5k | post-fall good clean fun fetish fic | i am also not immune to men's tits or the notion of a LITTLE bit of tasteful lactation. sorry i meant tasty

conduit by mokuyoubi | 9k | post-fall getting together fic WITH. a fun bicurious threesome moment. like i said i'm kind of a sucker for fics that turn on the axis of will graham figuring out how to get into having gay sex

satisfied by h0neybeebear | 11.6k | WILDLY sensual and sexy t4t marathon sex that should qualify for some kind of medal or award. new nobel prize category. the incendiary capacity of el's sensory descriptions could power a rocket straight into the sun or, alternatively, keep a hitachi charged for approximately 5 aeons

let me sinful be by darlingred1 | 20k | will is an anal sex toy connoisseur and hannibal is so, so, so intrusively curious about it. i won’t say how many times this has been visited in my history. top of the ao3 wrapped type of shit

[yanderecrazysie]

here me out yandere! erasermic with shy!reader who has tendency to have nightmares and doesnt sleep well-

[this has been on my mind like all week for some reason😭 but anyways have a great day/night and take as much time as you need/want its healthy for you!]

Just a little heads-up, I write multiple characters as working together and not as poly, so I hope that’s okay!!! You can technically think of it as poly if you want, since I’m not super specific on it lol.

And you have a great day/night as well!

Title: Circles

Pairings: Eraser Head/Aizawa Shouta x Reader; Present Mic x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, drugging

Summary: Eraser Head and Present Mic’s new darling is adjusting well in every way except sleep. Is there a way they can finally give her the rest she needs?

“Sleeping peacefully

The girl I used to be

Until I fell so deep

A neverending tragedy.

You haunt me in my dreams

But it's all I want to see.”

-from “Circles” by KIRA

 You had been here nearly four months, and your sleeping had only grown worse.

It took forever for you to fall asleep and, whenever you did, your slumber was plagued with nightmares and heartbreaking memories that had you waking with a start and crying before you even opened your eyes.

 Your captors grew more and more stressed at the sight of you withering away from the lack of good sleep. The rings under your eyes were larger and darker than even Aizawa’s, and the sight alone had their stomachs twisting with worry.

“What do we do? Why won’t she go to sleep, Eraser?”

“It’s not just a matter of falling asleep, Mic, it’s a matter of staying asleep too.”

Your captors were kind throughout the months you’d been here, but they still terrified you. So many of your nightmares twisted their happy expressions into evil ones and used their soft voices to scream obscenities, until you awoke more afraid of them than on the day you’d been brought to the isolated cabin you resided in.

Not a single night went by without turning into a sleepless night or one packed full with night terrors. At this point, you were afraid to sleep. Afraid to see what your unconscious mind was ready to traumatize you with further the minute you successfully drifted away into dreamland.

Your captors were there for you as you fell asleep and whenever you awoke screaming and crying. You could see their faces lined with worry as they reassured you that you were safe. You welcomed the comfort, even if you knew you shouldn’t trust the people who kidnapped you.

One of them, the dark-haired one that the other called “Eraser”, seemed to understand your inability to sleep. Probably because he always looked so tired himself. He also spent the most time with you at night, pulling all-nighters sometimes to make sure you were okay. 

A strange part of you appreciated that.

“Summer break, finally! Now we can spend some time with our favorite listener!”

Your head perked up when you heard them both enter the house. You had learned that they both worked as teachers during the day, so they often had to be away from you… Was it really summer break already? Had you really been here long enough for school to let out?

Your blond captor, who the other called “Mic”, was much more energetic than his companion, and he quickly came running into the living room, searching for you. He beamed when he spotted you on the couch.

“(Y/n)! Let’s have a movie night!” He said, seeming very proud of himself for coming up with the idea.

“A movie night?” Eraser entered the living room after him, one eyebrow raised, “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

You agreed to it, even though you weren’t sure you had a choice in the first place. They were kind enough to let you pick your favorite movie, one neither of them had seen, and pop it into the DVD player.

With the lights off, your favorite movie playing, popcorn from Mic and soda filling your stomach, you weren’t too surprised that your eyes were beginning to droop. After days of barely getting any sleep at all, your body was finally at its limit and ready to give you what you truly needed.

You saw Mic give Eraser an excited look, which was returned with an indulgent smile (perhaps the happiest you’d ever seen Eraser). You couldn’t help but smile yourself a little, both in happiness and relief. You had a feeling there’d be no nightmares tonight.

You were sleeping peacefully between them on the couch long before your movie was over. The two were beyond glad that Mic had proposed a movie night, as it had done what they needed it to do and given their precious darling the gift of dreamless (and nightmare-less) sleep.

That, and the pills they slipped into your soda.

[phantomoftheorpheum]

The Umbrella Academy Season 4 Review/Critique

Fair warning- this is ridiculously long. If you expand this post and don't actually want to read it, it will be a pain in the ass to scroll through; I would advise against it.

Just to be 100% clear, these are my opinions and interpretations of the show. If you don't want to see criticism (and quite a lot of it) or read a pretty raw, unfiltered/unedited review of the season, this is not for you. This is a casual platform, so I tend to just let myself think out loud on these posts, meaning that I don't go back and heavily edit my thoughts. I may express ideas for the storylines that would need some refining, I'm generally just spitballing.

This is a very criticism heavy post, I have a lot of issues with this season, so if that will upset you, please just don't bother to read this. I will be tagging anti tags (due to the large amount of criticism I have for the show) for filtering purposes.

*** Spoilers for all 4 seasons of Umbrella Academy ***

Good Stuff First

I always like to start with my favorite stuff from the show, because usually if I am bothering to critique, it means I have a lot of criticisms, but I always want to acknowledge what the show does well before I start getting into what it does not do well.

Individual Characters & Dynamics - In particular, I thought Klaus's unique character voice was present and well written and the performance continued to be top notch (I have some criticisms about the actual storyline, but I think Robert nailed what he was given from an acting standpoint). Many of the specific dialogue and character dynamics felt consistent to earlier seasons, which can be difficult with such a wacky show. There are definitely some characters who were able to shine, regardless of what they were given.

Visuals/Sets - The show still looks as good as it ever has. It's never been groundbreaking cinematography, but you can feel the budget in the aesthetics of the show. It has been able to maintain this weird "almost our world, but not quite" reality in a visual manner since season 1. It has a distinct style and look. The sets largely feel big and textured and expansive, even when they're fairly simple. I like that we've at least glimpsed the house in every season.

Tone/Humor - The Umbrella Academy is weird. It has always been weird. It must be weird or else it would feel... bad weird? It does succeed in continuing to be weird AF. I like that the show isn't afraid to be incredibly strange. It is a show that swings big. The humor is still there. Humor is hard, and I think they hit more often than they miss.

Family Road Trip - The group dynamic, family bickering, montage effect of 4x02, etc. was one of the lighter and more enjoyable choices made in season 4. The bit of "annoying song stuck on a loop" that continued to crop up throughout the season worked for me.

Abigail Completely Failing at Being Gene - This is only a very small part of the season, but Nick Offerman playing an alien cloaked in a (very weird) human skin and very poorly pulling it off added some levity while it lasted.

Soundtrack - While I think there are fewer distinctly standout tracks for this season (but this is entirely a personal opinion, maybe others feel differently), the show's commitment to its distinctive sound and use of music is still solid. I particularly appreciated the callbacks to season 1, obviously I Think We're Alone Now, but also by selecting Dead To The World in 4x06 for Five (I prefer In The Heat Of The Moment as a song, personally, but the choice was very clever). This is a show that I genuinely like to go listen to the soundtrack of after the season, and I intend to do that with this season as well (except for the Christmas stuff, I am not a big Christmas songs person).

The Cast - This is related to point one, but I really think 99% of the cast did they best they could with the material they had to work with.

Despite all my criticisms, I still found myself sad to be at the end of the journey. And I think that says something about the strength of these characters. A perfect journey? No. But one I'm still glad that I took.

My Criticisms

I want to start by saying that if I bother to critique something, that means I believe it has enough potential to be worth discussing. If it didn't, I absolutely would not bother. So while I think this is going to come off quite harshly, it is coming from a place of "I love what this show can be when it's at its best, and here's how I personally think we could have been closer to its best."

A lot of times when I write up my thoughts about a show, I start with my most specific criticisms, and as I examine those, it points me to a bigger underlying issue. Sometimes I work the other way around, thinking about the larger elements I have criticisms of, then searching out examples. But in this case, either way, I find myself ending up at the same place with the same issue, and that issue (perhaps ironically for this particular show) is time.

I believe the largest issue with season 4 is time management, crafting storylines that are interconnected and therefore justify their screen time, and pacing. Yes, I have some criticisms that could not be fixed with better time management, but a lot of my issues lead back to this. Pacing is always a tricky element, is at the top of many criticism lists of many shows, and has been at the top of my list for several shows I reviewed this year. Pacing issues seem to be cropping up more and more with streaming service based shows on all platforms, and I don't think that's coincidental. But, imo, Netflix is our best example.

One of the greatest strengths of Netflix Originals, back when they first started, was the guarantee of a full season before a cancellation. Because they had no feedback on a show before producing and releasing an entire season, there were no early mid-season cancellations. This allowed writers a little more room to stretch out, knowing they wouldn't walk into work the next day and be told they have 2 or 3 episodes to wrap up a story, or worse, wake up to just no job at all. So while the seasons were shorter, the time was guaranteed. Many of Netflix's early properties, particularly if their first season was successful, were greenlit for multiple seasons at a time, a practice which has been all but abandoned (Bridgerton and Stranger Things have been afforded this luxury in recent years, but few other shows). But as Netflix (and other streaming services) got its legs under itself, it came to realize that there was more profit in producing the first season of many shows, then cancelling all but the most successful. This epidemic of unfinished stories has been spreading rapidly. Now, not only does Netflix have an extremely high cancellation rate and rarely renews a show for more than a season at a time, it has also been shortening seasons, bringing down production costs, and trying to minimize risk and maximize "safe" profits. Minimizing risk in favor of maximizing safe profits rarely results in good art. Which explains a lot.

And so, unfortunately, I think The Umbrella Academy is a casualty of this increasingly mercenary system. Not only was it forced to make creative decisions with the constant threat of "This could be the end, but you won't know it until after it airs, so it also has to work as not the end," during the first three seasons, but though it got warning of its final season, it received a limited run to complete the show. Now, I can't fault anyone for wanting to write each season as a possible ending, considering how often Netflix cancels shows. Is this smart? Yes. Is this also limiting? Yes. And shows like The Umbrella Academy, with universes that become increasingly complicated with increasingly detailed lore, suffer quite a lot when trying to contain a story to each individual season. And finale seasons are particularly difficult. Expectations are high. Netflix's production model gives audiences years to build up their anticipation for the finale. Too much time to think, to pick holes in what has already been created, to cool to something they were once passionate about. Delivering a genuinely satisfying finale under these circumstances would be a daunting task.

But with all that being said. Season 4 only has 6 episodes, and it somehow manages to waste so much time. I don't know what's in the water over at Netflix, because I don't know if anyone knows how to waste limited time like Netflix does. If it weren't so irritating, it would almost be impressive.

The truth is, very few of the main characters really matter to the overarching plot of the season, which is a very weird choice, particularly in a final season. It's basically Ben, Jennifer (who we barely know and just met), Hargreeves, Abigail, and tangentially Viktor. Five & Lila are basically completely taken out of play for an episode and a half, where their actions have practically no relevance to the main plot, and the critical information Five gets while using his "new" power could easily have happened without this storyline. Luther & Diego are similarly sidelined by the CIA storyline. And, again, Klaus & Allison are occupied with a side plot that removes them from the main conflict of the season and does not tie in to the finale.

I do not mind the centering of Ben & Jennifer for a season of the show in theory, but with only 6 episodes to tell this story, I think it was a stretch to believe they had the time to do this plotline justice and waste so much time elsewhere. I don't know if this was solely a me issue, but I just... didn't care about Jennifer. I mean, sure, I rooted for her in a passive "she seems nice" kind of way, but even by the end we barely know anything about her. I can live with a "cosmic connection" insta-love situation between Ben & Jennifer (not my favorite trope, but it can be okay), but just because Ben instantly connects with Jennifer, that doesn't mean the audience does. And, to make matters worse, this version of Ben is one that we don't know that well, anyway. Like... his defining character trait is that he's mean and angry. I didn't mind that in season 3, as he was new to us and at odds with our protagonists for most of the season, but we don't really learn much new about him in season 4, either. The bit of Ben's history that we get is from Umbrella Ben, not Sparrow Ben. And Sparrow Ben's personality and history isn't touched on. Why is he like this? It's never explored, not beyond the shallow "the Sparrow Academy wasn't raised as the family that the Umbrella Academy was" that was established in season 3. The fact that we know so little about this version of Ben makes it harder for me to connect with him, as well. So to center these two characters in the final season, and then not even give us scenes to flesh them out as individuals, it just feels like such a waste of time. It didn't need to be Ben and Jennifer. In fact, it very much felt like it was only Ben and Jennifer because everyone has always wanted them to tie "the Jennifer incident" into everything. Again, I think this plot could work fine if given the correct amount of screen time, but as it is, it feels rushed and shallow. We might care about Sparrow Ben (might), but we don't have much reason to care about Jennifer.

Lack of direction - There are only six episodes in this season! Every minute needs to be used wisely. This should be the most focused of all the seasons, every storyline streamlined to tie into the finale of the show. Which is the opposite of what we got. For the vast majority of the show, nothing Klaus or Allison does matters. Nothing Diego or Luther does matters. Nothing Five or Lila does matters. Sure, those storylines touch on individual character development, but when you're planning to kill everyone off in a couple hours anyway, why are we starting down unconnected character arcs that are destined to be left hanging? Every bit of interpersonal character development should be written in a way that ties into the finale plot of the show, so scenes can pull double duty and maximize the limited time available. What was the purpose of Lila and Diego fighting (other than to physically separate them)? What did they learn? How did they change or grow? They didn't. They are split apart, sent down different dead end roads, only to be gathered back up in time to die. They speak words of understanding, but we don't actually get to see them learn or put those changes into practice.

I think about it this way- if Lila and Five had gotten lost into the weird limbo subway system and we never saw what happened to them, and instead they just reappeared from that adventure for the finale, would that fundamentally change anything about how the show’s main plot plays out? No. It wouldn’t. If Klaus had stormed off in 4x03 and Allison had gone after him and we’d never seen either of them again until the finale, would that fundamentally change anything about how the show’s main plot plays out? No. It wouldn’t. If Diego and Luther had gotten their CIA passes and walked into that building and vanished from the story until the final episode of the show, would that fundamentally change anything about how the show’s main plot plays out? No. It wouldn’t. Even Viktor, who is directly addressing the main plot point of Ben & Jennifer’s connection becoming apocalyptic, has very little impact on that storyline leading up to the finale. He speaks to Ben once, he insists on trying to save Ben, and spends the rest of the time working through personal issues with his dad or being attacked in a sequence that has no consequences. The conflicts that these characters encounter have very little bearing on the physical events of the show (they get shot at, they escape. They fight, they escape. They are chased, they escape) and what are the specific consequences? There aren’t any. Viktor gets to use his powers to save Hargreeves and gets shot (I think??) doing it, but he’s fine, and it doesn’t change their approach or goals in any way. Five and Lila are trapped together for years and have a romantic relationship, but then they “go home” and it doesn’t lead to any of the characters deeply changing or acting notably differently in the following events (Five and Diego fight at a bad time, we get a funny reaction from the other siblings, etc. but it doesn't change anything) and then it is never truly resolved. Luther and Diego go to the CIA and this plot is used as a vehicle to reveal the villainy of Five’s boss (so??), but ultimately Luther and Diego get a big fight sequence, learn very little, and take up a lot of screen time for a reveal that could easily have happened in seconds. None of their actions in this storyline blatantly effects the outcome of the show. And Diego feels set up for some character work, but all it really leads to is him being like "I get it," and that change never getting a chance to be actionable. Allison and Klaus reconcile, but only after a lot of screen time is spent on another side quest. Do they really change as people from this story? We don't know because there's not enough time to see. This is clearly not a legit substitution for actually addressing the issues between them, but we don’t have time to do that, either. Not to mention, the conflict between Klaus and Allison isn’t some slow burn issue. It’s doesn’t exist before this season. What is the point of any of these plot lines? Why send Allison and Klaus off together to resolve issues that we only just found out exist, when Allison has canonically been estranged from all of her other siblings since the events of season 3? That is blatantly an unresolved issue, but instead of using her screen time to address her season 3 actions, they create a whole new issue for her and Klaus to fight and then reconcile about. Wouldn’t it be much more interesting to see Allison and Viktor work through their issues once and for all? Or to address all of the ways Allison betrayed Luther in season 3? What about Klaus reconnecting with this version of Ben? What about Luther working through being betrayed by his father? What about Diego and Lila actually being parents? What about really getting to see how this life that Allison sold them all out for isn't even the dream she thought it would be? What if, instead of getting a montage of Lila & Five’s romance, we got a montage of Jennifer and Ben finding and destroying each other in many different worlds? You want to sell me on this tragic, cosmic connection between them? Okay. Sell me on it. Make it hurt. 

Five - I'm just going to be brutally honest here- I believe Five is the strongest driving force of the show and his sidelining in season 4 was a huge mistake. Five might not be the emotional core of The Umbrella Academy, but he is absolutely central and critical to what has worked well in previous seasons. And yet, in season 4, he's pushed to the side and basically written out of the main plot for half of 4x04 and all of 4x05. And then, even when he is around, he's lost a lot of the elements that make him a fan favorite. Let's talk about that- in season 1, Five's return and his mission is where it all kicks off. Yes, technically the inciting incident is Hargreeves' death, but gathering the family without Five's arrival would have been useless and led nowhere. Five drives the entire plot of season 1, while the rest of the siblings get character arcs around him. He makes things happen. He withholds information from his siblings and from the audience. Without him moving the plot forward and tying things together, season 1 would have been a disjointed mess. In season 2, we follow Five's attempts to reunite the family and fix yet another doomsday. Again, he is the one that pushes the plot forward, while the other siblings wander down various other storylines (which is not to say that they are not involved and don't contribute, just that they don't move the plot along to the same degree). In season 3, Five attempts to "retire," but pretty quickly he's back in the thick of things in search of answers and solutions. He is set against Hargreeves in an intellectual face off and is ultimately the one who pieces together the hotel's puzzle. He also discovers that he is, essentially, his own nemesis and behind a lot of what happened in previous seasons (a storyline that feels like it had a lot more to give, possibly, but is abandoned and explained away as "something a version of him did in some timelines,"). But in season 4, Five is... Well, he's suddenly not that relevant. He starts out fine, undercover and attempting to infiltrate The Keepers, and he does push the initial plot forward with his investigation, but then he just drops off the map (literally and figuratively). Five, who has always been the character to seek out answers and the character the audience trails through the bigger plot points of the story, is suddenly out of play. Now we're watching him wander around the multiverse (presumably for an attempt at character development, which ultimately falls flat) where he learns nothing important and falls unconvincingly in love with his brother's wife for an episode and half. Why? Because... they didn't know what to do with him? Honestly, I can't explain why. Five's acerbic wit, his tendency to be one step ahead of the audience, his cockiness, the uncanny personality that is a quirk of being an old man trapped in a young man's body, his absolutely brutal and ruthless methods to protect his family, and his cool fight scenes, it all just vanishes. Suddenly, for the first time, he feels the age of the actor. He feels erased long before he literally is. After 3 seasons of him having one of the coolest powers that leads to some of the coolest scenes, we're suddenly in a world where everyone else has some useful version of their power, while Five's kind of sucks. And like his teleporting power only reappearing at the very end (spurred on to save Lila specifically, rather than his family, because ???), Five's personality is frequently missing. Which leads me to-

Five and Lila - This may be a controversial opinion, but in concept this could have worked. Am I mad at the idea that two characters who are stuck together for years with no one else as company might fall in love, even if they're an odd pairing? No. Like I said, it's okay in concept. But only in concept. In reality, there was neither the time, nor the necessary casting to make this storyline hit properly. Regardless of Five's character's age, or the fact that his actor is (technically) an adult now, this felt flat out wrong to watch. Not only does Five still very much look like a teenager (inevitable, as while Aidan has aged over the course of filming the show, the age of young Five would now, still, vastly outstrip his real age of 20), but we also know that Lila was introduced to him as a child. Lila and Five meet in season 2, in which he is (physically) still a 13 year old boy, while Lila is an adult woman (considering she has the same birthday as the rest of the Umbrella Academy, this would put her at approximately 30 years old at this time). Yes, the exact ages of these characters is a bit messy to track, but no amount of text on the screen telling me so many years have passed is going to allow me to forget this detail, which makes this whole situation, at best, deeply uncomfortable. The fifteen year age gap between the actors is incredibly evident, and this romance is ultimately completely unnecessary for them to evolve in the (frankly minimal) ways that they do. They also pretty brutally sacrificed Diego's character for this. All of Diego's negative traits are cranked up to 100 this season, while Lila's are generally turned down to a low simmer (until she nearly dooms everyone to a meaningless death). While I don't think their relationship being on the rocks, or either of their character's struggle to fit into domestic life, is a bad idea, I again find myself questioning what the point of this storyline was for this particular season. We don't get much of a conclusion. Diego is basically a buffoon all season, Lila is less blatantly fucked up most of the time and also somehow less likable for it, and Five feels out of place in this storyline. Why did we do this? As far as I can tell, it's because they didn't have any other ideas to keep these characters busy while the actual plot happens around them. That's really not a good reason to blow up a dysfunctional but well liked dynamic (Diego and Lila) and never even bother to mop up the blood. And that leads me to-

Lila - Just, in general, I found myself asking "who in the writer's room is ridiculously obsessed with Lila, because that is the only explanation for any of this." For example, Klaus names everybody's problems and can't think of any real issues for Lila?? LILA? Her erratic, risk taking behavior and serious mommy/family issues are the most intensely Lila thing about her?? This is what her entire character is built upon? Why are we acting like she's not been a complete wildcard for the last two seasons?? Her new power doesn't make any kind of sense. Everyone else basically got some version of their old power back (and we eventually learn that Lila does have that power back as well, despite wildly underusing it), but now she has laser eyes.... Because? Her inability to properly control the laser eyes is funny, but also doesn't make any sense. In previous seasons we see Lila quickly adapt to using new powers only moments after acquiring them. If there is any one single person in this whole show who should have adapted to a new power immediately, it would be Lila. And somehow, for some reason, they center Lila during the finale conflict. Everything rests on her decision to stay or go. On her connection to her family (despite us barely seeing her in a room with them all season), instead of literally any of the main Umbrellas we've been following all along. And she gets the last line of dialogue from our main characters. We spend an extended sequence watching The Umbrella Academy slowly sacrifice themselves and Lila gets the last word?? And all of this is coming from someone who actually really loved Lila in seasons 2 and 3. She was one of my favorite characters coming into this season, but this... It just felt blatantly disrespectful to all the other main characters.

Everyone Dying is a Bummer - Okay, don't get me wrong, I'm not set against tragic endings in general, but... I don't think The Umbrella Academy earned this ending (at least not in this way). This idea of the world being better off without them, like they are a mistake that fundamentally ruins the world and must choose to sacrifice themselves in the name of saving humanity, that would (could) be fine. Except that it doesn't feel thematically well supported by the previous seasons, or even just season 4. At its heart, seasons 1-3 followed the ups and downs of Five's journey to save his siblings from the apocalypse, even though they are the ones to cause it. This is his entire goal. He wavers, he actively tries to walk away from this, but he cannot help himself, he always comes back around to this goal. This is what we buy into in season 1. So the idea that this is impossible and that they all must die anyway, feels antithetical to why we are asked to care in the first place. We haven't been asked to care about the world (not in any tangible sense). We watch random, innocent people, or vaguely antagonistic people, get killed in horrible ways left and right in the show and we are not asked to care. We're often asked to laugh. We care about them saving the world because we care about them saving the family, this dysfunctional group of oddballs. Sure, on a very basic and fundamental level we don't want humanity to be wiped out, but the humanity of the surrounding world is never deeply touched upon in the show. And their death wipes out infinite universes. We're told this is "right," but we don't tie any real emotional stakes to it.

Season 4, which centers around saving (or failing to save) Ben and Jennifer, around Viktor's desire to find another way because he loves his brother (even this version of him) and his siblings have always fought so hard to find another way because they love Viktor, asks us to care for these same reasons. Not for the world, but because we care about these particular characters. And the writers decide to sideline Five, whose centering I believe is absolutely essential to pulling off a "they must all die at the end" storyline to begin with. Why? Because he's the one who has fought so hard to save them. To have him not be at the center of the storyline where saving them is not possible makes absolutely no sense. Do I think that a final season where we follow Five coming to the conclusion that they are all doomed could possibly work? Yeah, if they had (and here it is again) the time to dig into that story and show us how he grapples with and fights that resolution tooth and nail until he cannot anymore (they point at it with the diner scene, but don't have the time to let us feel the weight of it). But they don't do that. We don't get to follow him throughout a season trying to cope with this impossible truth. Instead, he accepts that fate in a matter of onscreen minutes and with immediate resignation. (Yes, you could argue this is what he has been doing the last 3 seasons, but we're never truly given the impression that he is trying to prevent an absolute inevitability, only that he is trying to prevent a specific reality). It undermines the foundation of his character, and because Five is the driving force of the first three seasons, it undermines the foundation of those storylines as well. With the limited amount of time they were given to wrap up this show, instead of ending with a "everyone must sacrifice themselves" storyline, I would have, instead, centered Five's personal journey in season 4, which concludes with him realizing there can be one universe in which his family can all live, but only if he dies. They live, but he must sacrifice himself and be erased from existence so they will never mourn him, never know him, never know to be grateful. What could be more fitting for the show, more simultaneously sad and happy, than Five achieving what he set out to do in 1x01 and saving his family and that costing him everything?

Now... how to work that in and fill in some major plot holes at the same time? Well, I have some ideas, but I'm gonna save them for a different post, because while writing this review, I found myself re-outlining season 4 and trying to fix some of nonsensical elements of this season and if I get into that, it needs its own post. But I think it could be done. And speaking of nonsensical events.... Why do the Umbrellas have to die now? Like, logistically speaking, if The Cleanse is a necessary event and every single other world except the "perfect" timeline ends in apocalypse, then why can't they jump on that subway to a different universe where they have more time to be really, truly sure that's the only answer? At the very least they would have had a chance to really say goodbye to each other. We know there are plenty of universes where Ben & Jennifer both exist, there's no reason it has to be now. Since there are infinite "wrong" universes, they have all the time in the world. This is not a decision that has to be made exclusively in this moment, despite being portrayed that way. They don't die, The Cleanse doesn't work, they fact check their solution in a different universe, they get a chance to say their goodbyes, etc. etc. The urgency makes no sense. For that matter, why doesn't Five blip them all down to the subway where the show has already established in this season that time does not pass, so they can have a real conversation about this? There is literally no reason not to do this. They, quite literally, have a character who can take them to a timeless limbo where they can take as much time as they want/need to sort this out. They, quite literally, have that character take an entire family to this place, proving that he is capable of bringing a group of people there, and they don't use it.

It Doesn't Get Better - One of the major themes of Umbrella Academy is dysfunctional family and the way we cope (or don't) with childhood trauma. How burying that pain is destructive and hurts the people around us. And while I don't think the show's intent was to send the ultimate message of, "Actually, it doesn't get better, you'll never heal those wounds, and your existence is a destructive mistake," that's... kind of what it implies anyway. Throughout the whole show we explore the ways these characters are trying to work through the abusive household they grew up in, to move past the things that happened to them, and we watch them process and come together as a family and stand up against their abuser and grow into better versions of themselves and lose their way and pick each other back up. And then we're told that it doesn't matter because they all have to die. It sends a strange message. Personally, I think the show may not ever have intended to really send a message at all. It's absurd and irreverent and tragic and silly. It has never shied away from violence. It's always had a bit of a flippant nihilism hanging about it. And I think there is an argument for "People don't always get what they deserve. Sometimes they just get the short end of the stick and it sucks, but that's just how it is," being an underlying theme worth exploring. It's just... they don't really explore it, they just kind of dump it on us at the end. And because we don't have time to come to terms with this messaging (time, it's all about time), I think a lot of people feel like there's this bait & switch happening. For the last 3 seasons, we've been watching a show that is constantly addressing this childhood trauma and a toxic family dynamic, but then the end of that show is like "and all of these kids are a casualty of their abuser's arrogance and there was literally, not from the moment they were born, anything they ever could have done to grow away from that." It's pretty fucking bleak, to say the least.

Plot Holes For Days - There are more plot holes in this show than a block of Swiss Cheese. There are so many, that I'm still mentally trying to sort out an ending that feels... somewhat in the spirit of what season 4 was intending, and doesn't leave us up to our eyeballs in nonsensical plot points. For example- in The Umbrella's original universe, they already changed things so that they don't exist anymore long before the apocalypse. One of the major plot points of season 3 is that Harlan accidentally killed The Umbrellas' mothers before they were even born (obviously this is a paradox, as Harlan could never do that without meeting Viktor). But Hargreeves was still able to adopt Marigold enhanced children! Marigold kids were still born! We're told in 1x01 that 43 women spontaneously gave birth without having been pregnant, but we're supposed to believe that The Umbrellas, right here and now, have definitely got all of the Marigold in this universe? (And that doesn't even get into the questions surrounding the Marigold's presence in this world, since The Umbrellas did not bring it with them, we see no sign of other super powered versions of them existing in this universe, but if it didn't already exist here in some capacity and no children were born with these powers, then there's nothing inherently wrong with this universe, meaning the apocalypse wouldn't need to happen, and on and on and on. Like if all the Marigold was just in that jar and that counts as being in this world, then they could have just chucked that thing at Jennifer and bam, problem solved.) We know that in the original timeline Hargreeves didn't adopt all the Marigold children, because that's the entire point of Lila's backstory. And what about the other 35 women who spontaneously gave birth and those kids? So how could The Umbrellas possibly know if they are destroying all the Marigold by sacrificing themselves in this world? They can't know that. The existence of The Sparrows (and in another universe The Phoenix Academy) also implies that there could be many universes where The Umbrella kids don't all even exist, but other children were born with their powers, so specifically The Umbrella kids all dying isn't something that would need to be set in stone, since none of the other Marigold kids had to die for The Cleanse to work in this universe. Now, a lot of shows have plot holes or paradoxes or questions left at the end, and a lot of shows I would cut some slack. I'm even willing to ignore a lot of the smaller plot holes in this show, but this is the culmination of the entire series, the explanation for what must happen and why, and the justification for all our main characters being wiped out, and it just doesn't hold up under more than a moment's scrutiny. And that, imo, is a pretty big problem.

Gene & Jean/Villains - So, on a slightly lighter note, another thing that I don't have a problem with in concept is Gene & Jean. They're weird and quirky, as all Umbrella Academy villains seem to be, and I love both actors. It's just that season 4 has a serious problem with its villains in general. That is, there are too many of them and their plans are too convoluted. The ultimate villains being in some way connected back to Hargreeves (and specifically Abigail, who up until this point has had very little to justify her existence in the show) makes sense to me. But the absolutely convoluted mess that is The Keepers cult led by Gene & Jean being at odds with Hargreeves' men who are hiding Jennifer, being at odds with Abigail masquerading as Sy Grossman and then as Gene (I still don't understand why she needed to kill Gene or Jean, like Gene & Jean were already trying to bring about The Cleanse, why is she infiltrating them??), instead of using her resources/position as Hargreeves' wife, is ridiculously messy. The person I watched this season with actually asked me after 4x04 if I had any idea what was happening because they were completely lost. Generally, I am pretty patient about how a show shares information. I always assume that I am picking up what they're putting down, and if I don't understand something, I will when I'm supposed to. That... didn't always feel like the case to me this season. I don't think it was so much that it was hard to follow, but that it just didn't make a lot of sense. The "why" for so many character actions, but particularly the villains, just never fully materializes. Abigail and Hargreeves' sides are fighting in this season, with him attempting to prevent the apocalypse and her trying to bring it about... But what is the justification for the completely convoluted nonsensical path it takes to get there? She seems to have plenty of power over Hargreeves when the kids visit. Why does she need to infiltrate The Keepers? Why do The Keepers need to exist at all? It's just a coincidence that they have the same goals as Abigail? If she actually started them, then I assume she would have installed herself into the organization and not needed Gene to infiltrate it. I don't understand her choices. There were many, many simpler ways to get where they ended up.

So... it's not as if The Umbrella Academy is the first show to do this ending. In fact, one of my favorite shows of all time does this ending (not mentioning it by name because that would be a massive spoiler, obviously). I think this ending is completely possible to pull off. But I also am neither convinced from an in-universe logical point, nor from a storyteller's point, that it earned this ending. Did I want it to be a happily ever after? No. I don't think that would fit tonally with the show. But I wanted it to feel necessary, truly inevitable, and both physically and thematically, I don't buy that it was.

My advice to anyone who was starting this show for the first time would have to be, "don't think too hard about it," because ultimately, if you do it will crumble. Just enjoy the vibes and the bickering and the comedy and strangeness. There's no point in asking too many questions. And for some people, that's totally okay. That's enough. I'm just (shockingly) not one of those people.

So, if you're still with me, I'd love to hear what you guys think. Did you feel emotionally fulfilled? Were there particular plot points you loved or hated? What was your favorite musical choice of season 4? Should I release my redesigned season 4 outline? What ending would you have chosen? I'm open to all opinions! I don't agree with all opinions, but I will very much consider them.