#watched from up on poppy hill for the first time in such a long time and just the first 5 minutes moved me to tears just by the scenery and

[bluebelledmoon]

it’s actually so horrible coming out of a ghibli movie pulling at your heartstrings as an artist because. i can’t touch it. i cannot redraw panels or paint the landscapes because the films art and feeling is just so indescribable and i could never ever do it justice. it’s so wonderfully perfect as is and it’s so frustrating. i can feel this feeling of warmth and love in these movies but it simply cannot be replicated and i hate it and i love it all at once

[peachysunrize]

Labyrinth ⥃ Aemond Targaryen

Summary: falling in love is easy for most people, but not for Aemond Targaryen. How can a broken cold-hearted man be able to love the most gentle human Westeros has ever seen?

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, very very gentle, angst angst angst angst!!!, humiliation, reader is Daemon & Laena’s oldest daughter, no description for reader (besides white hair) you can imagine her however you like, Aemond is a vulnerable & insecure baby girl, like he is really really insecure, mentions of murder, fluff, nightmares, chronic pain, mentions of Aemond’s injury, anxiety attack, babes are in looooove, English isn’t my first language<3 it’s very heavily plotted and the smut is at the end of the story.

Word count: 11.5k (she's so long but worth it)

a/n: I’ve always wanted to write something with this kind of trope, especially when it’s from the man’s pov, and there’re so little fics that get into the depths of Aemond’s pain and suffering so I needed to try and write something that says his part of the story as well! Please please tell me your opinions and favorite lines of this piece! I’ve worked sooo hard for this fic and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Reblogs and comments are appreciated<3🩷

A very special thank you to my babies, @namelesslosers & @neptuneiris for beta-ing and supporting my ideas😭🫂✨

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?”

Aemond watches the scene unfold in front of him; his mother seeking justice for him, slashing Rhaenyra’s forearm with the dagger in her hand, spilling her blood in fury.

He looks around the room, finding you scared behind your grandfather, looking at him with wide teary eyes. He scowls when he sees how you look at him with pity, thinking he is a deformed monster in your eyes, to his best friend’s eyes.

You leave the hall in a rush, and he scoffs at how unbearable he must look for you to go in such haste, allowing this injustice to wreck his world and him to cope with the aftermath alone. How could you leave him like that? What happened to all the hours he helped you build that stupid sandcastle next to where Vhagar lays? Did you forget every moment, every laughter you had together?

He stands up and walks to his mother, telling her that Vhagar is worth it. But is it true? It might be worth gaining the largest dragon alive, but in the back of his mind, he thinks about how he has lost you.

No, you left him, he hasn’t done anything wrong. He is the one with his eye in a tray, he is the one who needs tending to for the first time, and you left him while he and his mother were humiliated by Rhaenyra and her bastards.

The morning comes sooner than expected, the milk of the poppy knocked him out immediately last night. He walks down the stairs where his family is gathering to leave, his mother holding Helaena’s hand while god knows where his father is, probably saying his goodbyes to his daughter and Princess Rhaenys. 

Aemond moves toward the hill that Vhagar is sleeping on, catching the sight of you waiting for him next to the sandcastles he helped you build yesterday after your mother’s funeral.

“What do you want?” he asks, standing in front of you, trying not to frown too much to loosen his stitches.

“I-I wanted to ask how you were doing…”

“After leaving me all alone? You were my friend! I needed you and you left me! And you ask how I am after I got my eye cut out?” He shouts at you, waking up Vhagar from her drowsy nap.

“I-I don’t have any excuses, but Aemond, please—” “No, I hate you! I hate your stupid hair, your eyes, your laugh, even-even your sandcastles! They are so childish and-and ugly!” “I know you are upset with me, and I’m so sorry for what happened to you, but please let me—” “No!” he yells at you again, marching toward the castle next to your feet before he stomps all over it, screaming and crying while he ruins the perfect sculpture he himself has made for you.

“Aemond…” the sob that wrecks through you makes him stop, but you are not looking at his feet, you are looking at his face, crying for him. He doesn’t spare a glance at you when he walks to climb Vhagar’s saddle, but guilt overwhelms his emotions and dread fills him.

You just wanted to talk, and he treated you so poorly even if his anger was justified.

Oblivious to him, as soon as he and his family were gone, you ran to your grandmother, crying in her arms and begging her to allow you to study with Maesters, in hopes that someday you may help your childhood friend with the pain he will carry for the rest of his life.

•••••••••••

Jacaerys’ name day, another pathetic excuse to have his sister and her pups in the capital under the same roof, drinking and wasting the crown’s money. He can’t blame them though, they’re desperate to get on the lords’ good sides by showing off their heritage, going with songs and praises for the heir after his mother.

Unnecessary, stupid… 

Aemond groans, running his hand over his face as he wakes up with the sounds of banging in the hallway. He knows that they’re arriving today, and he’s aware that the royal chambers should be ready when his sister makes a face, but to wake him up at such an early hour after the rough night he had should have severe consequences.

With another deep groan, he sits up on his bed, looking at the sea from between the sheer curtains of his room, watching the sunlight shine bright on the surface of the water, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre already taking turns in the sky over the city.

He stands up, looking down at the soaked undershirt he had on during sleep, exhaling deeply as he pulls the fabric off, slamming it down on the couch as he walks to the balcony to get some fresh air. The morning breeze hits his sweat-covered chest, stinging the empty socket of his eye.

He knows he should go back inside, to cover his scar and avoid pain from the cold wind, but the contrast of the coldness of it on his heated skin is soothing his mind, calming his beating heart. He will regret it during the day, but for now, after experiencing yet another nightmare, he needs to feel alive again.

As soon as the sharp pain starts from the depths of his skull, he moves back, shutting the door and pulling the curtains closed. He stands straight, his nails digging inside his palms as he controls, or tries to control his breathing. 

It always starts like this; a sting, then another one but sharper, then a minimal pain that surrounds his scar, and finally, the stabbing pain all over his face followed by the worst headache someone can ever endure.

He reaches for the nearest surface he can lean on, knuckles turning white as he keeps his weight up, trying not to fall on his knees just yet.

He can do it, he has done it countless times.

Aemond steadies himself on his feet before he sighs shakily, walking towards the clothes his mother’s servants laid down for him yesterday. It is a simple outfit; a leather tunic with black pants and a fresh beige undershirt. Nothing too fancy, and nothing less regal that a prince should wear.

He takes his time while getting ready, allowing the phantom pain of his eye to fade away slowly. Before he can button up his tunic, his chamber servants come running in, putting a bowl of water with a warm towel on the side desk while they prepare his breakfast. He covers the left side of his face with his hand so as to not scare them with the unbearable sight of the empty space in his face.

He watches them with a sleepy gaze as they clear the room, slamming the door behind them. Aemond sits in front of his mirror, taking the brush in his hand to untangle his unruly hair.

There are no thoughts in his head as he stares blankly at his reflection; he hates his scar with a passion that could set the realm on fire. There is no gentleness in his features, everything is sharp, angular, and rough. There is no trace left of the boy he was before his nephew took out his eye.

Doomed before he could even try to become someone worthy.

He ties his hair, revealing more of the healed wound and the dark empty socket on his face. Sometimes he gets stuck inside the labyrinth of his head, running and running until he reaches the middle, but it’s never enough. At the end of the maze, someone drops dead; whether he kills them or they kill him. There is no escape from these dreams, from these self-destructive thoughts that haunt him day and night.

He reaches for a box on the vanity, pulling out the sapphire gem before reaching for an ointment Maester has given him to help the gem fill his eye socket without pain.

He looks at himself again; he looks less like a brute, the gem adds to his beauty but in his mind, it’s not enough, it’ll never be. He sees his brothers, healthy and handsome, being subjected to women’s attention all the time, and sometimes he wishes desperately to be in their place, to be able to talk to a lady without frightening her. But he has learned that a maimed man is less worthy than a whore in Streets of Silk, so he exercises and trains daily to become worthy again, to live up to his Targaryen name. There are deep yet little scars adorning all over the skin of his hands and arms — a reminder of how he has become the man he is.

He eats his breakfast in silence, tension rising in his shoulders as the smoke of the candles on his desk reaches his eye. He drops his spoon on the table, blowing the candles out before he reaches for his eyepatch.

He has told everyone that there shouldn’t be any scented candles in his rooms, but as it seems no one ever pays attention to what he has to say, not even to help with the pain of his eye.

He stands up, knocking a few plates on the table to the floor, smearing fresh fruits on his carpet. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, but he can’t care less about anything other than the fact that he needs to join his family in the throne room — and he does after he grabs his dagger and secures it in his belt.

“Ser,” Aemond nods at his appointed guard, earning a ‘good morning, my prince’ from him. Aemond walks down the stairs with his head held high, scoffing at the servants who make a path for him hurriedly, trying to avoid being seen by him or see him.

The bustling of the castle is irritating; everyone is running from one corner to another and decorating the keep for their princess’ arrival. He is not annoyed that he has to reunite with his sister and nephews, but because he has to endure their presence for longer than necessary, to look them in the eye and act civil as if the pain he copes with already isn’t enough torment from them.

He nods at Ser Cole, who follows him into the crowded hall, eying everyone who is waiting for the Realm’s delight. Aegon and Helaena are standing side by side, his sister is clutching Aegon’s arm tightly as the crowd makes her feel small under its gaze. His mother looks at the throne silently, and he can see the hesitation in her eyes — how are they going to go through these weeks of celebration, they have no idea.

“Good morrow, Mother,” he whispers as he stands behind her, his eye softening at the small smile she gives him, “you look radiant this morning.”

“Hush you, sweet talker,” she chuckles lowly, rubbing his arms lovingly, “have you heard about the Velaryons’ arrival?”

“Lord Corlys is coming as well?” he asks, shifting on his feet nervously, his fingers tightening slightly on Alicent’s elbows, “I did not know…” “Neither did I, darling. They shall arrive at the same time as Rhaenyra, at least I know Daemon’s eldest will.”

“Driving on dragonback, obviously,” he mutters, sighing shakily. 

Alicent notices his hesitancy, she gently cups his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eyes, “Do not project your anger on her, she was but a child.”

“Yet she kept silent that night. She was supposed to be my friend,” he says, looking away from his mother, lowering his head in shame, beating himself for letting his emotions take hold of him.

“Give your courtesy and leave if you wish not to talk to her,” Alicent smiles sadly at Aemond, patting his cheek before they both look at the doors of the hall.

Something in his guts drops when he sees Rhaenyra entering, her family walking towards them, all smiling and laughing as if they aren’t going to experience the most dreadful weeks of their lives. 

“Your grace,” Rhaenyra says, trying to break the visible tension between the families. The crowd goes silent, and the only thing they can hear is the soft exhales of the people close to them, everyone waiting with bated breath to see what happens in a few seconds.

“Princess,” Alicent smiles, “welcome back to your home,” she replies politely, giving Daemon a half courtesy before she congratulates Jacaerys for his eight-and-ten name day.

“Aegon…”

Aemond looks away from his sister as she acknowledges them all, instead his eye finds Daemon’s who is staring back at him with a smirk on his face. Aemond’s gaze doesn’t waver, and Daemon chuckles at that, giving him a challenging look.

He looks back at Rhaenyra who says his name, giving him a forced smile before she turns around quickly and asks for the King.

“He is quite unwell, he shall join us in the evening,” Alicent explains, telling the maids to make haste and set the garden ready to start the celebrations; nothing too fancy for the noon, a tea gathering in the garden to reunite everyone, or at least to make sure the court has something to gossip about.

Aemond follows them slowly, taking time to observe each and every one of them. He can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles in his chest as his eye finds Lucerys Velaryon, laughing and looping his arm with Rhaena. He looks away immediately, lips forming into a sneer as he walks with his hands behind him, grinding his teeth while he thinks about how he was robbed of everything good because of that bastard, because of the hideous scar he gave him.

The garden is filled with new bushes; roses, lilacs, daisies, and surprisingly winter roses. The sight would have been quite beautiful if all this fuss wasn’t for his nephew. He walks away from the crowd, making his way toward his siblings who are trying to appeal content with the events. Helaena is in her own world, lifting a worm from the ground as she counts its feet. Aegon is gulping down his wine while he listens to Daeron telling him about whatever book he has read these past few days, or at least he seems like he is paying attention.

Aemond sighs, grabbing a goblet of wine himself to nurse on it as he tries to distract himself from the chilly wind that hits his face. Luckily the eyepatch covers his eye socket fully and doesn’t let the cold breeze hit his scar, but the tension in his bones has remained from the morning rush of pain he experienced earlier. It’d be best if he left this pointless gathering earlier anyway.

“How are you faring this beautiful morning, brother?” Aegon asks him, grinning sarcastically. Daeron groans in response, even though the question wasn’t meant for him. Everyone can tell he is fed up with Aegon’s constant teasing of Rhaenyra’s family coming back to Red Keep.  

“Well enough to know I will be leaving in a few minutes,” Aemond replies, sipping on his wine as he catches Luke stealing glances at him. Pathetic, he is too scared to even look at him properly, he is glad though, it gives him a sense of comfort to know the mark he has left on his face scares him enough to keep him away from him.

“Can’t do that! It’d be rude if you left without saying hi to our favorite Velaryons.” Aegon smirks, tipping his head back as he laughs at Aemond’s sneer.

“As much as I hate to say this, but the idiot is right; you can’t give them more reasons to resent us,” Daeron says, looking at his older brother with kind eyes, “besides, they are here anyway.” he points at the passageway leading to the garden, catching the sight of Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys walking side by side toward the crowd.

Aemond’s heart stops for a second when his good eye lays upon you, following your grandparents with a gentle smile grazing your lips. You are a sight to behold; silver hair falling around your shoulders like curtains of moonlight that shine bright like a diamond beneath the morning rays of sunshine. Your gown the bluest of blue that shows your devotion to your mother’s house, and your lips painted pink in the most alluring way… 

Aemond’s eye sees a sight his mind can not comprehend, too unreal and beautiful that makes him doubt if he is seeing you with his sapphire eye through the patch.

His face is blank, but his heart is beating so fast he can hear his pulse in his ears. His eye follows you, watching you bow before his mother and sister, looking away immediately to find your sisters already giddy to hug you. Rhaena is the first to run to you, wrapping her arms around you while Baela approaches you slowly, letting her twin have her moment with you.

He doesn’t move from his spot, he can’t move even if he wants to; he’s struck between shock and something he can’t pinpoint; he can only say for sure that he hopes it’s a rush of adrenaline of not seeing you for so long.

The only time he looks away from you is when Daeron pats his back and encourages him to join everyone to say hello and welcome your family to the Keep. He doesn’t need to say a word, just a nod at both Corlys and Rhaenys is enough, but when you turn around to greet him and his siblings, his breath gets stuck in his lungs. 

You look at him from beneath your lashes, beaming so radiantly at him that he almost forgets the pain in his eye or the pain he has caused you the last time he saw you. The world around him fades away, the noises become distance as his sky-blue eye finds yours easily, and he has to swallow sharply while he desperately tries to keep his face stoic and serious and not show you how he is panicking from inside, palms sweaty and lips drying while he gazes at you, his childhood friend who… suddenly the bubble around you breaks and he remembers how you abandoned him that night at Driftmark.

“My lady,” he says in a hushed tone, watching your reaction closely.

“My prince, it’s so good to see you again,” you grin at him, “I hope you are doing well.”

“As well as a half-blinded man can do,” averting his eye from you, he regrets the words he said immediately, flushing a bit in embarrassment, but when he looks back at you, your smile hasn’t left your face, if anything you look at him with empathy and much kindness that he has a hard time believing you are real; it’s been too long since anyone has looked at him with such sincerity.

“Darling,” Daemon steps closer to them, ruining the moment for Aemond to say something, anything to take back what he said earlier.

He watches your smile wavering a little when you look at your father, hands fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. He notices how you try to ignore your father and Rhaenyra as they approach you, a tense smile on his sister’s lips while she tightens her grip on her husband’s arm.

“We have missed you, the girls, and I,” Daemon says, reaching to caress your hair as gently as the Rogue prince can, “you did not visit us at Dragonstone.” “I don’t like it there, the castle unnerves me,” You reply softly, “I rather enjoy the silence of grandsire’s castle.” “You are a Targaryen, you should visit your ancestor’s sit,” Rhaenyra tries her best to persuade you to think about coming back with them, leaving your lovely grandparents alone.

“I’m a Velaryon just as much as I’m a Targaryen, but ‘tis not a matter we should discuss at such a joyous day, don’t you think, princess?” you say, and Aemond sees it in your eyes how desperately you wish for the conversation to end. Aemond watches his sister’s words falter, her confidence crumbling with each word that you utter. Your statement is not rude, not even filled with malicious intent, but the mention of your Mother’s side of the family makes the Targaryen couple uncomfortable.

“I would have loved to stay and talk with you, Father, but I’m afraid the journey on dragonback has left me starving. Please, excuse me,” you nod at them before walking past them to the corner where Aemond and his siblings were sitting minutes ago, reaching for a glass of wine to gulp down.

Aemond doesn’t spare a glance at the couple, following you closely so he can sit in silence and out of the sun, truly not wishing for another fit of agony that consumes his skull.

“You have grown, Aemond,” you sit beside him, turning your head to look at his side profile, “no longer the child who used to build sandcastles with me when I would visit the Keep.”

“Yes, no longer a child with friends. Spending years apart without any contact, surely you are not that surprised how I have turned out to be,” he scoffs at your words, frowning when he turns around and finds you chuckling gently, “Did I jest about something I’m not aware of?”

“No, no, I just remembered how we promised to never let anyone break us apart, but you were the first who did so; you stomped your feet on my sandcastles the morning after my Mother’s funeral. You are right though, no ravens were exchanged, but I do hope you’re still the sweet prince who helped me study.” your lips twist into a small smile.

You are not angry with him, how can you not be angry with him? You had spent hours after they freed your Mother’s soul into the sea to find the perfect place to build your sandcastles and he ruined them the morning he was about to leave.

Your teary eyes have haunted him from that moment to this day.

“I apologize, I did not wish to remind you of that night,”

“I’m reminded every time I look into a mirror, do not concern yourself.” his reply is curt as he gazes at you, your eyes full of sadness and sympathy for a man you no longer know. Or maybe you know him too much, he thinks.

“I look forward to spending time with you, my prince. I hope we can catch up on each other's lives.” “Perhaps we can,” he sounds unsure of himself, Getting to know you again while you have turned into a woman grown — the most beautiful woman he has ever seen at that — is going to be a challenge he does not know he welcomes or fears greatly.

•••••••••••

He leaves sooner than he should, hiding in his room with a warm towel on his face as he soothes the pain of his eye, the headache he had since morning finally fading away. There are so many thoughts lingering in his head, and ironically, they are all filled by you; your gown, bright smile, and gentle personality.

He groans, so frustrated that he has met you a few hours prior yet you have consumed his every thought. If he focuses hard enough, he can see the labyrinth of his nightmares, the hedges are covered in ivy, suffocating as they reach for air — he thinks of him as the hedge, and how easily he has let you wrap yourself around his thoughts this quickly.

Weak, he thinks to himself, he’s weak.

He sits up, dropping the towel in the bowl on his nightstand, breathing deeply as he looks around his dark room, spotting a lit candle on his desk in the corner.

Sometimes it baffles him how his room represents his inner self so openly; it’s not messy, no, but if you squint you can see the abandoned book in the foot of his chair, ink dripping from his pot on the carpet, the candle illuminating the trail of black paint on his desk. It seems as if his room is showing the ugly part of itself to his eye, and for a second he thinks about how he sees himself — an ugly monster with an unsightly scar.

Aemond leaves his room a few minutes after fixing his eyepatch and hair, walking to the king’s solar to join his family for dinner. He walks with his hands clasped together behind him, looking straight to avoid eye contact with anyone who sees him on his way up the stairs. He doesn't expect to see you of all people, heading out of your room to take the same path as him.

“Aemond!” You say his name with such enthusiasm that has his heart racing again, beaming at him as if you are excited to see him. How could you be this giddy to meet him? No one has expressed to be happy to spend time with him, let alone smile at him the way you do. Is this an act of modesty? It has to be, he thinks, or else it does not make sense at all.

“My lady,” he bows his head politely, “How come you are late for such an interesting gathering?”

You giggle a little, walking side by side with him, “I was spending some time with Helaena’s children. Oh, they are such sweet babes!”

“Indeed they are,” he replies quietly, watching you curiously as you round him to stand on his good side, “what are you doing, My Lady?”

“I did not realize I was on your blind side, Aemond, forgive me,” “There is nothing to forgive,” he sucks in a harsh breath, pondering over your response for the rest of the way til King’s solar. The silence is oddly comfortable even though he gets a bit nervous when you keep glancing at him. 

There’s an unusual warmth spreading through his chest, he can’t understand it — it can be his heart since it’s beating too hard and fast, or perhaps even his lungs! He can’t even breathe properly, but at the same time, he feels… right, much better than before. He blames you for the conflicted emotions, it’s all your doings, he is sure. Because whenever he looks at you, he feels as if his clothes are suffocating him, his ears ring while the world fades around him, and the center of his world becomes you.

Weak, worthless, he has just met you, yet all these years apart seem blurry to him, as if he has known you since the age of the Firstmen; so familiar and comforting, even though you left him alone the night he needed you the most.

The guards open the door to the solar, and Aemond follows you inside, his eye wandering all over the room, taking his surroundings in. His mother and Rhaenyra are sitting at the table, his nephews are standing on their mother’s side while Aegon is trying to listen to whatever lecture Otto is giving him.

He watches you walk to your sisters, wrapping your arms around Baela and Rhaena as they both start talking to you about the things they have done during the past years you’ve been Lord Corlys’ ward in Driftmark.

“You’re staring,” Daeron says out of nowhere, pulling Aemond out of his thoughts but he doesn’t look away, he keeps his eye trailing on you until you turn around and catch his eye as well, smiling broadly at him.

“I am merely observing,” he replies, but knows his brother is right. It’s only the first dinner but he can already feel his eye itching to be on you again.

“Whatever makes you happy,” Daeron shrugs, leading him to Aegon and Helaena to sit down.

He finds an empty seat next to him, thinking Daeron is the one who’d sit beside him, but when he sees it’s you who reaches for the chair, his heart leaps to his throat before he composes himself quickly, pulling it out like the prince he is.

You give a smile that is worth countless gold dragons, and for the second time today, he questions if the sapphire is a magical eye, because the world turns a bit brighter and less dull when he looks at you. He sits next to you, his eyebrows twisting into a deep frown when he sees Lucerys at the other side of the table engaged in a deep conversation with Rhaena, playing the role of the happy family quite well.

Everyone stands up when the guards bring in the King, everyone except for Helaena but neither she nor Aemond pays any attention to others. One is busy playing with her hairpin, and he is busy admiring your ethereal face as you kiss the king, your uncle’s cheek, thanking him for having you and your grandparents in his home after so many years. As soon as Viserys sits behind the table, you take your place next to him again, giving him a small smile before you turn your head to listen to what his father has to say. 

He knows what his father is about to say; first, he thanks them all for coming, paying special attention to his grandsons and Rhaenyra while he lies over and over again about how much he loves them all, how they should never let the House of the Dragon fall into ruins, oblivious to the fact that not Rhaenyra nor Alicent were the ones who broke the family into different agendas, but it was him who started the flame.

Tonight, Aemond doesn’t look at his sister to attend to her. His eye is solely on you, taking in the shape of your lashes kissing your cheekbones, carving the silhouette of your nose and lips in his memories. He looks at the way your lips curve into a grin, cheeks forming into the most beautiful shape he has ever witnessed.

You turn your head a little to glance at him, catching him red-handed while he tries to play it cool, but he finds that he is not powerful enough to look away from your blown-out pupils and the orange hue that’s cast on your irises softly.

He breaks the eye contact, a scowl forming on his face as he reaches for his goblet of wine, nearly throwing the goblet across the table when he hears Lucerys laughing at the two of you.

You beat him to it before he could open his mouth, “Is there something funny, Prince Lucerys?” your voice is so soft and slow, almost humiliatingly sweet, and funnily, it terrifies Luke. 

Aemond smirks as he watches his nephew stuttering over his words while everyone around the table sits in uncomfortable silence, waiting for the young prince to say something, anything.

“I was surprised by how fast Uncle Aemond took a liking to you, given his looks and all,”  he explains, sarcasm dripping like honey from each of his words.

Fucking bastard, Aemond thinks to himself as an ugly sneer sits on his face. As much as he wants to leap toward him and cut off his tongue, he can’t — not when you put your hand on his over the hilt of his dagger.

Your skin is so smooth atop his calloused one. The way your fingers wrap around his wrist sets his body on fire, burning the skin in a way unknown to any man, but this is no ordinary burn; there’s no trace of fire, no long-forgotten ashes of his bones are visible, instead his fingers twitch for more, begging for more skin to skin contact, but he pulls his hand away from you without looking away from Luke’s blushing face.

“Your words are mean for no reason, Lucerys, given how it’s been your doing that has caused Aemond his scar,” you say, “I find him quite handsome actually. He was my beloved friend when we were younger. There are, of course, many feelings between us. Nothing has happened out of the blue for you to mock him for.”

“I-I apologize, good sister, I wasn’t…”

“It is not me who you should apologize to, it’s Aemond. I have taken no offense on my behalf but I do believe you owe him an apology.” You explain, sipping from your glass slowly while keeping your eyes on Lucerys.

No one, not even the King has the strength to intrude into the situation, maybe in doubt of saying something to hurt you, or perhaps you’re just speaking the truth, and for once, everyone fears your gentle mannerisms.

“I apologize, uncle,” 

Aemond’s stare is blank as he looks at Luke who’s chewing the inside of his cheek in embarrassment. He nods, not bothering to reply to him; he will never forgive nor forget what he has done to him, crushing his hopes and ruining his worth for a lifetime.

“Let us put our differences aside, and become a family again,” the king says, coughing before he reaches to drink from his cup. 

The dinner goes smoothly from there and to Aemond’s surprise, he engages in more conversations with you. He does not talk too much, he’d rather listen to your giggles and stories rather than talk about his boring and miserable life.

His eye always lingers on you for far longer than it should, not in an inappropriate way, but more in a sense of intrigue and curiosity, trying to understand you from his perspective. He simply can’t though; you are worlds apart. He is a cold-hearted, broken, and worthless man when it comes to your bright and beautiful personality. Even if he gets to know you again after so many years, he would never think himself worthy enough to be in your presence.

“Aemond…?” you call his name oh so sweetly, making him feel as if he is on top of Vhagar, flying atop the city while the wind blows in his hair; it makes him feel alive.

“Yes, My Lady?”

“Are you alright? You look quite flushed,” You smile sweetly, reaching to put the back of your hand on his cheek, flustering him even more than he already is.

“Yes, yes, I might have had too much wine,” he doesn’t know who he is trying to convince; you or him? By the sound of it, it’s him who needs to be convinced that it’s the wine in his blood and not the same unknown feeling he gets when you look at him. No, it is definitely the wine. It has to be.

“Oh, well then, I wish to spend more time with you if you are not against it,”

“Why would I be?” he asks almost too quickly, making you chuckle at his… enthusiasm. If he can even call it that.

“Then I’d be overjoyed if we could rebound what we had as children.”

•••••••••••

After the dinner, something between you and Aemond shifted; he spent more time outside his room, he was calmer and less serious, and the pain in his skull was almost gone. You joined him in the library a few times in the next few days, meeting each other at your door to attend the meals side by side, and almost everyone could feel how he was changing the longer he had you close, almost turning into the little boy he once was.

Both of you forget your last interactions as an act of mercy for the other.

With your insistence, he agreed to miss the tourney being held for Jace’s nameday to sneak out of the castle and take you to the beach. He did not need much convincing, but when you gave him those doe eyes with a little pout on your lips, he felt weaker than he ever did and gave in immediately.

Aemond helps you down the rocks near the shoreline with your small hands in his, taking cautious steps down to not trip over and hurt yourself. He keeps his eye on your feet instead of his, worrying more about you than himself even though he is stepping down with his good eye on you, not looking where he is going.

That seems to be a bad decision, because the next second, not only does his foot miss a small rock, but yours slips on one too, tumbling into his arms as the two of you fall on the soft sand, Aemond’s arms wrapping tightly around your back to keep you steady.

He looks at you, panting as his eye widens at the closeness; your faces are inches away from each other, and he can feel your soft rushed exhales on his lips. You look like a goddess atop him, the sun illuminating your silver hair, reminding him of the last sennight when you arrived and your hair made your face shine even brighter.

He has never seen such a beauty before, sure he has seen the ladies of the court, but your Valyrian beauty combined with sunlight and the blue hue of the sky has him mesmerized, not realizing how his hands are gripping your waist while he stares at you.

You giggle at first, then break into a fit of laughter while you lean more into him, dropping your forehead on his shoulder as you laugh wholeheartedly.

He chuckles lowly at first, then matches your laughter and throws his head back, holding you on him by one arm while the other comes to run over his face. 

“I have never heard you laugh so freely before,” you say after you have calmed down, putting your palms on either side of his face while you hover over him.

“I don’t remember having a reason to do so,” he replies, smiling up at you.

“I’m glad that I’m able to bring joy to your life, you deserve it.” leaning down, you press a gentle kiss on his cheek before standing up, smoothing down your skirt.

He is at loss of words, speechless to his core. He deserves it, he thinks, do you truly think a monster like him deserves any chance of happiness?  How are you not disgusted by him, his scar, his sour and mean tongue? How can you ever leave a butterfly kiss on someone as unworthy as him? 

He looks at you from where he is staying lying on the sand, watching as you extend your hand to him, rocking on your heels in anticipation so you can go and wander on the beach and reunite with the sea.

He grabs your hand, standing up on his feet as well. There is sand in both of your clothes, but you have just begun your venture and won’t stop until you are satisfied.

You don’t let go of his hand when you start jogging, pulling him with you as you giggle in delight. And he observes you as he always does; wind in your hair, waves crashing against the shore while your laughter fills the air around him. He doesn’t realize his smile has widened and he is following you just as excited, letting the sand and the sea separate you from the outer world.

“You promised you would make a sandcastle for me!” you say, pulling him behind you to the spot where you would sneak away as children, sitting down to get to work.

“I did not,” he replies, unbuttoning his tunic so he can stay under the sun without being bothered by the heat.

“Fine, you did not. But you ruined the one we built together at Driftmark so you owe me one!”

He chuckles at you, his dimples on display as he shakes his head, “Alright, I will make one for you.”

It took you a good few hours to finish the sandcastle; it could have finished much sooner if you hadn’t thrown wet sand at him, cleaning your dirty hands with his white cotton undershirt just to annoy him — and it worked. In a second, he was chasing you around the beach with hands full of wet sand curved into balls, throwing them at you.

And here you are now, fingers laced together, shoes in one hand as you both walk on the shoreline, letting the waves cool your feet. You point at the sunset, leaning on his side when you come to a stop to watch the sky change color as the sun goes down.

Aemond on the other hand, looks at your calm face that is glowing under the pink and orange sunlight. How did he get so lucky to be blessed by such a beauty to lay his eye upon? Maybe he truly deserves this unknown feeling that spreads through him like fire and makes his fingers tingle and his heart beat in happiness. Maybe he deserves to be loved by you and love you unconditionally in return.

You turn around, dropping your shoes before you reach up to cup his cheeks. He closes his eye and basks in the attention you give him; so unique and pure. He drops his boots as well, arms circling your waist to pull you closer.

Aemond doesn’t dare to open his eye, fearing that he might ruin this perfect moment as you trace the lines of his lips, his cheekbones, and his jaw. You are so gentle with him, something he is not quite used to. It has always been him, alone in a cold room, but now and here with you, he feels as if he can breathe again, and forget every pain he has endured to reach this moment of his life.

“Open your eye, My Prince,” you whisper before you peck the corner of his lips, pulling him in so you can rest your forehead on his.

He obligates, sighing shakily when he finds you already looking at him. Your gaze is so genuine that somehow scares him, a rush of destructive thoughts comes into his head, but you seem to notice it from how his hands shake on your waist.

“Don’t think about anything, just… just focus on me.” 

He does as you say, his brain shutting those annoying voices at the back of his head down as soon as your nose brushes against his, your soft lips brushing over his so endearingly. He is hesitant at first but when you peck him again, he moves forward as well, meeting you halfway until his lips are locked with yours.

You taste as sweet as the strawberry cakes you had this morning, if not sweeter. The way your lips move together makes his head hazy. You are kissing his breath away, leaving him begging for more. His chest moves up and down quickly when you break the kiss, and you caress his thin swollen lips, bruised by your kisses and lack of air, while he admires you from head to toe.

The sun has set, but the glimmer of love has risen inside of Aemond’s broken heart.

•••••••••••

A kiss here and there, more sneaking around the castle and to the beach until the main event for Jace’s birthday arrives. He is in his mother’s solar, listening to her talk about how lovely you are and how much of a wonderful couple you would make with him if only you weren’t Daemon’s daughter.

“Mother—”

“You should dance with her tonight, my darling!” Alicent says, running her hands over his arms when he stands up and approaches her, “I have heard Daemon has plans of betrothing her. Obviously, he has yet to find someone suitable, but he is thinking about it.”

Aemond’s heart drops when Alicent says your father is looking for a suiter, fortunately, Alicent sees his surprise, shock, and fear. She reaches to cup his cheek, forcing him to maintain eye contact while she talks, “Don’t let her go if you truly wish to have her. I know that she would stand strong against her father and Rhaenyra, but she would need your support and love as well to feel brave enough to turn down a good match.”

“They would make her happier than I can ever do, Mother,” he replies, his voice breaking slightly. Losing you terrifies him, and he is aware that his mother can read him like an open book, shushing him while he inhales sharply.

“I have never seen her happier than I have with you, and I have never seen you this happy and lively, darling. Be selfish for once, choose your happiness this time.”

“How can I choose my happiness over her life?!” he asks harshly, frowning at his mother.

A knock interrupts Alicent before she can respond, and the guards open the door for you to step inside the queen’s room.

“Oh, I apologize, it was not my intention to interrupt you.”

Aemond seems to be struck by your beauty; your body is wrapped in a teal-colored gown with a low neckline that leaves your shoulders and collarbones on display. Your silver hair is braided with some parts of it pinned up, some strands framing your bare neck.

“You look so beautiful, my darling,” Alicent says, nudging Aemond a bit forward when she sees how he is looking at you.

“Thank you, my queen. You look very beautiful as well,” you look away from the queen, smiling when he approaches you slowly, “you said you were going to wear something close to this color and I decided it would look quite good to match. How do I look?”

“Enchanting,” he breathes out, reaching to hold your hand, pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, “You look breathtaking, My Lady.”

“So do you, My Prince.”

“Shall we then?” he offers you his arm and you accept without hesitation, looking back to see if the queen will come with you and she assures you she will come with the King.

“You said you were going to retrieve me from my chambers for the party,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you walk toward the great hall.

“I am deeply sorry. Mother wanted to have a word with me,” he explains, dropping a quick kiss on the crown of your head.

“Is everything alright, Aemond?” you ask him, and he chuckles at how adorably your brows twist into a frown in worry. “Yes, darling, she merely wished to remind me to make sure you have a great time tonight. You are our special guest.”

“Does that mean you will dance with me?” you ask, holding his hands in yours before you reach the hall.

“We shall see,” he brings your hands to his lips again, leading you toward the hall, bowing and nodding at the ladies and lords who take it upon themselves to greet you.

You come to a stop in front of the table, Rhaena coming to hug you and twirl you around, gasping at the sight of your beautiful gown, gasping even louder when she sees how your dress matches Aemond’s tunic.

A ghost of a smile finds its way on Aemond’s face as he watches you get flustered at your sister’s attention to details, but soon, his eye hardens when he finds his uncle glaring at the two of you. Tonight will change the course of so many lives.

He watches you laugh with your sisters, pointing at the empty chair next to you so he would sit close by all night. With one last glare at his uncle, he walks to his seat and pours wine into his cup, blushing a bit when he hears you laughing again. You are not even laughing at something he has said and he is the one who gets flushed.

He is knee-deep inside these new feelings but he welcomes the challenge with open arms. Or at least he tries to do so without Daemon being an obstacle to his plans. 

He looks at you when Rhanea and Helaena pull you to the dancefloor for the new song, pairing up with different lords to dance with, but what catches his eye, isn’t who you are dancing with, but more than who Daemon is talking to. He recognizes the lord to be from the south, probably a Tyrell, and when his uncle and the lord look in your direction, he knows something is not right, an uneasy feeling settling deep in his stomach.

He watches the lord closely as he makes his way through the crowd to get to you, bowing and introducing himself before taking your hand to dance with you. He can see how uncomfortable he is making you, probably discussing his sick desire to have a wife and kids while he dances with a Targaryen-Valeryon goddess.

“Stop glaring and do something!” Baela slides into the seat next to him, hissing the words at him while she keeps her eyes fixed on you as well, “I don’t like you, I will never like you, but you make her happy. Do something before our father ruins her life because of Rhaenyra.” “I thought you liked your stepmother,” Aemond chooses to ignore most of the things she said.

“It’s Rhaenyra’s schemes, please, Aemond, my sister deserves to feel appreciated. I have never seen any lord take an interest in her the way you have. You are the only thing she could talk about in the last few days. I will beg you if I have to.” Aemond turns his head toward Baela, letting her words calm down the hesitancy he has toward courting you. There are far more handsome men than him in the court, yet, he is the one who is blessed to hold you and kiss you, to gaze into your eyes and see forever in them.

He hisses when he feels a sting in his skull, not now, no. The pain can’t start now. He gulps his wine before he nods at Bela and stands up to walk to the crowd in the middle of the hall, catching your eyes for a second before he has to bow and start the dance with a lady he does not care to engage in a conversation with.

He thinks about how much he has changed in a few days; there will always be a part of him who thinks he’s not worthy of your affection, that you can do better than him, but also the thought of you in another man’s arms sets his skin ablaze. He is torn between keeping you all to himself or letting you have a wonderful future with another guy who can stand by your side and make you proud, who is not maimed and scarred like him.

Luckily, everyone needs to change their partner and he reaches with his hand to grab yours and pull you to his side, grinning when he hears your delighted shriek. “My Prince Aemond,” you say, squeezing his hand while the two of you twirl around the room.

 He doesn’t wish to say, but the tempo is too high for me, and it worries him that somehow he might make a fool of himself or you if he trips over someone’s shoe on his blindside.

“Lady Targaryen, you look like a Valyrian Goddess, my beloved.”

“Why thank you, my good prince. I have to say that this color truly brings out your beautiful eye,” you reply coyly, tipping your chin up while you bite your lip.

“You are playing with fire, darling.” he leans down to whisper in your ear, pressing a feather-like kiss on your earlobe without anyone noticing.

“I’m a Targaryen, Prince Aemond, fire is in my blood,”

“Is that so? Well, I must say—”

He doesn’t know what happens, or how it happens, but in a second he can’t see you when he twirls you around him, and suddenly, the weight of your waist isn’t in his hand anymore.

“Aemond!” you fall down by his feet, and he sees that his boots have caught the edge of your heels, making you twist your ankle in the wrong way and causing your fall.

What have I done?

What have I done?

I dropped her.

I did this.

What happened?

His eye has widened in fear, and he is frozen in place, hands shaking slightly as he feels the crowd around you look in your direction, staring and gaping at him before the hushed whispers start to fill the room.

“Aemond, look—”

He can’t look at you. He will never be able to live with himself for humiliating you in the way he did tonight.

Stupid, weak, useless good for nothing, Aemond. If another lord was dancing with her, he wouldn’t have dropped her. A prince but less worthy than a common whore. 

With trembling lips, and a pain blooming in his eyesocket, he dashes out of the room, leaving you on the floor. 

His vision is blurry, the pain is getting worse and the air is stuck in his lungs. He can’t breathe, no, he doesn’t deserve to breathe. How can he when all he wanted to do was to dance with you but ended up hurting you? How could he hurt you like this? 

He skips the steps, running to his room while he groans in pain, the stinging is getting stronger, the agony in his nerves is spreading through his skull and it only gets worse when he opens the door to his chambers to find not only scented candles but the windows and the balcony door is open as well.

“You are dismissed!” he shouts at the guard before he slams the door shut, “Ah!” He tumbles down, gripping the nearest chair to keep himself on his feet at least before he falls on his knees, clawing at the eyepatch to pull it off as if it’s burning his skin.

The pain is like a dagger, stabbing him over and over again until even his knees don’t have the strength to keep him up. He falls on the floor, curling into a ball while the pain spreads through his face, and he finally breaks down, bursting into tears from agony and humiliation. If only he wasn’t in pain… if only his eye wasn’t cut out…

Aemond doesn’t hear when the door opens, nor he can see who the person is. Tears have flooded his vision, but as soon as he feels your soft hand on his arms, trying to help him sit up, he flinches, backing away from you while he gasps for air, feeling his tunic clinging to his sweaty body. 

“Aemond, please let me—” “No, no, no, no…” he stands up hurriedly, walking to the balcony on unsteady legs to get some air in his lungs, only to be met by a freezing wind that makes the chronic pain in his eye even worse. He drops to his knees again, this time the sounds of his gasps and painful yelps are louder than before.

You rush to his side, kneeling in front of him to cup his cheeks, kissing his clammy forehead before you wipe his tears away gently. He lets you touch him this time, too exhausted to utter a word, to push you away even if he has to.

“It’s going to be okay, Aemond, let me help you,” You help him on his feet, making sure to have your arms wrapped tightly around him while he leans his weight on you, trusting you to take care of him, even though the voice in the back of his head is telling him to push you out of his room.

“Gently, my love, gently,” you help him lay down on the bed, pecking his cheek again, rising to get the smoke out of the room but his hands shot up and grabs your forearm tightly.

“Stay, please,” he whimpers, his beautiful eye tearing in pain.

“I will, my dearest, I just need to blow out the candles and close the windows, and I’ll be back in bed with you.” You reach and bring his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss upon his knuckles before he lets you go.

He can’t see you clearly, but your shadow moves from side to side frantically, blowing the candles on the balcony so the smoke won’t get inside again, shutting the windows quickly so the cold wind doesn’t bother him anymore before you come to bed again.

You unlace your gown, taking it off so you can tend to him more easily, pulling at the few pins inside your head to let the strands fall freely around your shoulders. You climb onto the bed, a jar of his salve and ointment in hand with clean rags in your other as you sit comfortably next to him, helping him take off his tunic and pants.

Aemond lies on the pillow on your lap, sniffing as you look at his face; bare and raw of emotions with his sapphire glinting in the low lights of the room.

“My love, you need to help me pull the gem out,” you whisper, almost sound scared of him, or scared of what you might see.

“No, it is an unbecoming sight—”

“Nothing about you is unbecoming. You are the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on, and for you and your suffering, I begged my grandma to allow me to study about your condition with the Maesters,” you lean to kiss the bridge of his nose, “the skin around your eyesocket is swollen, if we do not pull it out now, it shall make it more unbearable for you.”

He hesitates for a moment. While he would love to ask you about why you studied something so gruesome because of him, he can’t help but feel so wanted. The pain is getting worse, sure, he has to pull the gem out anyway but to hear you say how you have begged Rhaenys to let you partake in those classes, to maybe someday help him with his pain… that truly makes him feel fuzzy all over.

“Alright…” he whispers, gritting his teeth in pain as he reaches out with his fingers to grab the side of the gem, pulling it out slowly while he groans and the pain nearly knocks him out. “Shouldn’t we use something more—” “Take it out, take it out—I don’t care how!”

You nod, tears falling from your eyes as you watch him writhe in pain more as the two of you pull his sapphire out, leaving a heavily swollen and empty eyesocket on display. His hand falls limp on the bed while you drop the gem into a clean bowl before pouring some of the ointment on a rag, gently holding his face in one hand while the other daps slowly over the scar and his ripped eyelids, pressing a few kisses here and there to soothe his whimpering.

He clings to your arms and waist tightly, letting his tears fall freely while you soothe his pain away, falling into slumber easily beneath your gentle touch.

•••••••••••

He is running.

Where is he? Why is he running?

He looks around him, finding himself in the labyrinth he always sees in his dreams.

The hedges are covered in ivy, the walls have gotten taller and the paths are thinner.

What’s this smell?

He steps closer to the source of it, taking different routes until the smell gets worse and stronger. He knows where the center of the maze is, he has been here countless times.

He turns around, finding the space of the labyrinth of his dream, but he doesn’t expect to see you there, not while standing with your nightshift covered in maroon, hands dripping with thick droplets of blood as you look at him horrifyingly.

“Darling, are you alright?”

“Don’t- don’t come closer,” you say, taking a step away from him.

“I don’t understand, why—” “You did this to me!” screaming at him, your hands cover your heart, and he finally sees how your chest has been ripped open and blood gushes out of the wound.

“I was not here—”

“You did this to me! You hurt me, Aemond!”

“Aemond!”

“Aemond!”...

He jolts up, gasping for air, hands clutching the bedsheets as he experiences another nightmare. He looks at you, finding you awake and alarmed while you rub his back, eyes filled with worry and pain for him.

“You should leave,” his voice is barely above whispering, his nails digging into the palms of his hand while he blinks his tears away.

“Aemond—” “I will only hurt you, why don’t you understand?!” he asks, raising his voice a little. 

He is torn between needing you to wishing you were gone; he can’t cope if he ever hurts you again.

“You have not hurt me, you won’t hurt me.” “I killed you in my dream! You fell in front of everyone and twisted your ankle because of me, I humiliated you! How can you say I won’t fucking hurt you? I have already done it.” He explains, but instead of pushing you away, he welcomes you when you pull him down into your embrace, holding his head tightly in your neck as he sobs uncontrollably.

“It’s not your fault, I should have been more careful. I won’t let you ruin yourself for something that was a mistake on my behalf.” you kiss the side of his face, rocking him from side to side while he calms down eventually.

“Don’t push me away, I love you, Aemond. Let me be here and help you carry this heavy pain with you.”

He doesn’t reply, but his arms tighten around you.

He looks at how you lay back on the pillows, gently pulling him in your arms until he is lying in your chest while you play with his hair.

“Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

•••••••••••

He opens his eye slowly when he feels someone caressing his hair, pressing butterfly kisses all over his face. Smiling a little, he finds you admiring him in his sleep, taking notes of every line and deep of his skin.

“It’s very rude to stare,” he says, his voice thick and raspy from all the crying he did last night.

“Not when he is my lover,” you whisper back, nuzzling your nose against his, “you look like a fairy when you sleep.”

“No one has ever told me that. How do you come up with such unique ways to describe me?” He leans over, pressing a kiss on your shoulder while he waits for you to answer.

“You are a wonderful muse for poetry, I shall start writing about your hair and eye!”

He keeps his lips sealed to your skin, sucking and nibbling until he is satisfied with the marks he has left. His pupil is blown out with a newfound lust; how can he not desire you when you are lying in his arms with your wild white hair plastered over his pillows?

“You are staring,” he chuckles at how breathless you sound. He hasn’t even begun to do anything and he already has you melting under his touch.

“Can you blame me? I have the most exquisite lady of the realm in my bed.”

“What happened to the insecure boy I held last night?” You ask while leaning up towards him, pushing him down on his back so you can straddle his narrow hips.

“It’s still here with us in this room, but he has begun to heal. You have helped him when he had no one,” his palms rest on your thighs.

“I need you,” it comes more as a plea, but Aemond obliges and flips the two of you over, hiding his face in your neck to prep it with kisses while he whispers that he needs you too.

“I love you, darling,” he whispers, craning his neck to catch your lips in a kiss, moving them together with a rhythm that encourages him to take the next step.

His hand inches downward, pushing past the fabric of your underwear to find you already wet for him.

“I-I have already lost my maidenhand…”

“I don’t care, I have you now,”

He silences your whine with another deep kiss, his fingers circling your clit until you are squirming and bucking your hips into his palm, your arms pulling him in by the shoulders.

He breaks the kiss, watching you take a deep breath when he pushes one digit inside while he tugs at the front of your shift, pulling it down until your tits are on display. He covers your chest with marks and bruises the same time another finger enters you, making you gasp loudly in pleasure.

He stretches you on his fingers, thrusting them in and out slowly at first, but soon he is speeding up, his patience running thin as he scissors you open not roughly to make it hurt, but to make sure you are ready to take him.

“A-Aemond, please, need you closer,”

He nods because he too can feel the need to become one with you, to take you as his, or more so you take him as yours.

His breeches are thrown on the floor, followed by his undershirt immediately as he takes home between your spread legs, one hand holding him up while the other guides his throbbing cock to your entrance. You both gasp in union when his tip nudges past your muscles, pushing in slowly and gently until he is sheathed inside you completely.

You throw your head back, wrapping your legs around his waist while your nails dig into his naked chest as he lets you get adjusted to his size.

“Can I move?” He asks, leaning down over you as he cages you beneath him, both of his forearms holding himself up against the pillow under your head.

You nod, looking at him with pleading eyes, and he finally caves in and moves slowly; pulling his hips back a little before driving in.

The next minutes pass by him gently making love to you, circling his hips and kissing you, bringing you closer and closer to your highest point. You know you both are close when his groans and moans grow louder, and your voice matches his tone as he quickenes his pace, the loud sounds of skin slapping against each other echoing in the chambers of the prince.

You both finish together; you with a gasp of his name, and him with a loud groan of yours as he fills you and you gush around him. He trembles above you, whether it is for the climax he experiences or the overwhelming love he holds for you. 

He watches your face twist in pleasure — the pleasure he is giving you — and he memorizes every sound, counting each lash that he can while he himself rides his high with you.

He drops face down on the bed next to you, both of you trying to catch your breath as you look at each other with a satisfied expression on your faces.

“They would ask about our whereabouts if we are late for breakfast.” You say, giggling when he groans in absolute disgust — he is not ready to leave this room and face the world again when he knows he can stay and take you again, thrive in your attention and love for all day.

“Must you ruin this moment for us? Now I can only think about how to face your father after what we did.”

“You should look him in the eye and ask for my hand,” you sit up, throwing the cover off of you before getting off the bed “and you shall do it with the braids I do for you,”

“You are impossible,” he says, but he knows that behind his words, there is no hidden intent, nothing but adoration and playfulness.

“Come, sit!” You pull him off the bed as well, leading him to his vanity before pushing him down on the chair, both of you stark naked as you brush his hair slowly.

He looks at himself in the mirror, and for the first time in years, his reflection doesn’t disgust him, it doesn’t scare him or make him self-conscious. He feels… beautiful, he feels worthy again of having this life, having you as his.

“Do you wish to know what I see when I look at you?” You ask him, letting his soft hair fall around his shoulders before you lean down, wrapping your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He nods, hands coming to cover yours where they caress the skin above his heart.

“I see a broken man who needed to be saved. I see a boy, fierce and strong as he claims the largest dragon alive. I see my friend who danced with me in different gatherings, my beloved friend who built sandcastles with me and helped me with my Valyrian studies. I see my Aemond, finally freed from the labyrinth of his mind.”

[heich0e]

THE WITCH'S SONG - part one knight!osamu/witch!reader tags: fem!reader, royalty!au, supernatural!au, witchcraft, enemies to lovers, mentions of violence/illness/death, persecution and oppression, tw blood, please read the tags on each chapter as updated and minors do not interact. crossposted to ao3 MASTERLIST

The night air is sweet. 

It’s still early summer, where the days are warm and bright before giving way to cool evenings, and the smell spring unfurled with its budding leaves continues to linger long after the sun sets. The aroma is fresh and green, not yet turned to the heady fragrance of singed grass and warmed earth which will slowly seep in as the days grow longer and the sun ever-brighter overhead.

There’s something captivating about this time of year; not quite the lush, blooming spring, nor the scorching, unforgiving summer, but a deliriously pleasant in-between that keeps the best of both.

On a tall hill, overlooking the rocky coast and a quiet village in the distance, sits a small stone cottage. Ivy crawls along the rows of uneven bricks that give the home its shape, having long settled and slanted in the time since it was built, each vine curling in long stems around four-pane windows and up towards the thatched roof. 

In front of the house sits a garden, full of every plant anyone could possibly desire to find in the given climate; vegetables, fruits and unusual herbs abound. The rich earth that surrounds the cottage is fertile and generous—with a careful hand to till and tend it, there’s little it can't sprout. The gardens are still not quite at their peak for the season, the plants low to the ground but flourishing as they patiently wait for a few more sun-filled days to truly blossom into their prime. 

Along the western side of the property, nearest to the towering forest’s edge, sits a greenhouse connected to a shabby little shed that greatly resembles the cottage in its quaint, unassuming construction. It’s there, in the dead of this cool summer night, that you—the owner of the cottage—toil.

Your fingers hold a glass vial over a small open flame atop the work station with a set of silver pincers. Your keen, well-trained eyes watch attentively as the fire licks up along the edges of the glass, heating the contents within. A breeze, northeasterly with a faint taste of salt air that creeps in with the nearby waves, whisks through the room and a shiver accompanies it in turn. 

A soft sigh slips through your parted lips and your eyes, previously fixed on the tincture held over the flame, lift towards the door. 

You aren’t startled when you see him standing there, though you barely contain the sound of annoyance that threatens to leave you; the momentary glance is the only acknowledgement you make to his (notably unwelcome) appearance as his figure darkens your doorway. You return your gaze to the solution you’re in the midst of preparing—a careful balance of valerian, mugwort, and poppy heads for a woman in the nearby village who has been unable to sleep restfully since the untimely death of her husband.

“Good evenin’,” he says to you once he realizes that you will not be the first to speak. He punctuates the greeting with a light clearing of his throat.

“Is it?” you reply, removing the slender vial from the flame and swirling its contents. You closely examine the colour and viscosity of the liquid, returning it to the heat for a few moments more after some consideration. 

“Sorry to show up unannounced,” the young man’s own tone is rather tight and clipped as he speaks the words–obviously equally unhappy with the turn of events that had led him to your cottage this evening, though resolute to maintain some level of decorum. 

“And yet,”���you finally look up at him, meeting his gaze with a firm and unwavering stare that you have up until this point denied him—“here you are.” 

Finally satisfied with the tincture, you set about pressing a stopper into the tube. You reach over and pluck up a burning taper from the candleholder resting nearby on your worktop, tipping it forward over the still blisteringly-hot glass to seal the cork. A rivulet of molten wax runs from the candlestick in a slow drizzle, and you carefully turn the thin vial to coat the border where glass and cork marry evenly. A piece of blue ribbon is then carefully wound around the warm wax before it has fully hardened, sealing the small vessel shut. 

The man watches silently as you slip the vial into a velvet pouch, tying the strings together tightly to draw it closed, and then you tuck the pouch safely away in the pocket of your flowing skirt—out of sight from where your visitor stands in the doorway to the greenhouse. Your eyes scan over the bench for a moment before you extinguish the oil burner you’d been using, turning the small knob at the base until the flame shrinks down to nothingness. 

“I wouldn’t’ve come if it weren’t important,” the young man’s tone has softened slightly into something closer to a mumble, weary from his journey and seemingly in grave need of something he could only seek from you. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, with grim shadows under his eyes and a pallor to his skin that doesn’t suit him.

“Now that I do believe,” you remark, almost drolly, picking up your oil lamp and crossing the room towards where he stands. He stiffens a little as you approach, as though bracing himself against a threat, but you merely slip soundlessly past him, stepping out into the dark night. 

Behind you, the man sighs.

He follows.

The two of you cross the yard, a few paces separating you throughout the silent trek, with the lamp you hold in hand the only light to lead the way. You tread carefully through the well-tended garden, careful but familiar motions deciding where each foot falls, and you sense without turning that he’s following your path as you move towards the stone cottage on the other side of the property—ensuring his own steps follow your footprints precisely. There are candles burning inside your cottage up ahead, their warm glow visible through the windows, and smoke curls steadily from the chimney and into the brisk night air. The smoke is perfumed with herbs, and the scent only grows stronger the nearer you get to your home.

You wonder if he notices.

“That’s far enough.”

You pause in your stride as you reach the stout stone wall that circles your cottage in a knee-high ring, resting with your feet together at the place where a gate might be were there any need for it. Behind you, the man falters to his own stop, surprised by your sudden halt and your sharp words.

“I need yer help,” he sounds confused, and frustrated—impatience creeping into his tone again. There’s a sharpness to it, like he’s forced each word out from between clenched teeth. You don’t look back to verify your suspicion. 

Another cold wind blows from the direction of the sea, and the budding leaves of the garden’s plants around you rustle as it passes, whispering amongst themselves as they spectate your exchange.

“I care very little for what you need, Miya Osamu,”—you glance at him over your shoulder, and see the way the distant light from your windows dances in his eyes—“and it will be a cold day in hell before I help a royal knight.”

The garden seems to still in the wake of your low-spoken words, the breeze dying out like the temporary peace ahead of a storm’s rage.

Before you, Osamu’s eyes have hardened. The lines of his sharp jaw set underneath his skin.

“Ya know me.”

“I know of you,” you correct him flatly. “Fortunately, our paths have never crossed.”

Until now.

Osamu’s nostrils flare, then he swallows.

“How?” he asks, his voice low and deceptively even.

“One of the king’s most trusted knights tearing through the outskirts of the kingdom in search of a healer is news powerful enough to reach even my ears, Miya.” Your lamplight dims slightly as you hold it aloft in your hand, the flame beneath the glass slowly shrinking. The oil is burning low. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you got desperate and I got unlucky.”

He flinches, his lashes fluttering slightly like he’s fighting back a more violent reaction. Like he’s accepting a blow he could easily return but chooses not to. The knight's gaze casts down to his feet as his fingers curl into fists at his sides.

“My brother's ill,” he says quietly, his voice heavy with an anxiety that rolls off of him in waves. “My twin.”

“Atsumu,” you specify, since he did not. His gaze snaps up to meet yours, and there’s a spark of something new behind it. Something more volatile. He looks angry that you’ve taken it upon yourself to speak his brother’s name.

“I know what you are,” he says slowly, wielding his next words like a blade and aiming to kill.

“Oh?” You tilt your head to the side in a show of guilelessness. 

“Yer a witch,” he continues, overlooking your feigned ignorance. 

“There are no witches in this kingdom,” you reply. “The crown you’ve sworn your life to saw to that.”

“Our king h—“

“Your king,” you interrupt him. The unexpected interjection seems to shock him, and his shoulders square indignantly.

“Yer also a subject of this kingdom,” he counters, and your distaste is made perfectly evident in your responding sneer. 

“I’m governed by no monarch, and certainly by no man.”

Osamu’s hands are still held in tightly-clenched fists at his side, the lines of his body as clear an indicator as any to his palpable anger. “You’d admit to treason before a knight?” 

“You’ve already accused me of witchcraft,” you spit, your teeth gnashing together as you force the words out. “What’s another crime to be burned for?”

You know all too well the end that awaits a woman accused of such a crime.

It’s the fate your mother met before your very eyes, after all.

Seconds stretch between you in the garden—sticky, and uncomfortable, and polluted with the animosity you feel for each other. It takes root in distrust and blossoms into something ugly, like a weed.

Osamu takes a breath, letting his head hang forward. His shoulders slump.

 “An old man two towns west from here told me a young woman in this cottage once cured his ailing wife in her final hours, and she lived a decade more. That she was brought back from the brink of death thanks to the woman’s care.” He looks up at you again, and his stare is insistent. Beseeching.

You know the man he speaks of, and his gentle, lovely wife. It was half a century ago now since you’d first met them, and you’ve heard the old man has gone a bit senile in his old age. You doubt he meant you any harm in his revelation, regardless of the trouble it’s come to cause.

“I’m nothing but a humble herbalist.” Your hand sweeps out in gesture to your garden, but the man before you is unmoved.

“Who’s been a young woman for fifty years.”

Even the distant sea seems to have stilled as the tension intensifies between you, the waves falling silent to make room for the hostility that spreads with every passing moment.

Osamu swallows. “They say witches have powerful healin’ abilities. That you can make potions that’ll revive a man half-dead.”

“It’s folklore,” you reply dismissively.

“It’s fact,” Osamu snaps. "I know it is."

“And what else do you claim to know of these so-called witches?” you deride, and you don’t miss the way his eyes seem to quickly trace you.

He squares his shoulders, then he meets your gaze. “They say ya maintain yer beauty and youth by devourin’ the hearts of good men.”

“Is that so?” you muse, though you seek no sincere elaboration. You look to your left, east towards the sea, and then sweep your gaze across the expanse of your garden to the right. You meet his dark eyes again after surveying your surroundings. “Well, I see no good men nearby, so I believe you should be safe.”

In the dim light, you swear you see something throb at the corner of his tense jaw.

“There’s not a healer in the royal court who’s been able to cure my brother,” Osamu’s voice breaks, taking a step towards you. “I’ve come here unarmed, and mean no harm to ya.”

Your upper lip curls at the lie and his proximity, baring your teeth.

No man has ever once approached a witch with pure intentions.

The seek only their beauty, their power, or their beating, bloody hearts.

Your mother’s screams ring suddenly through your ears, piercing and agonized. The memory makes gooseflesh raise along your skin. Makes the back of your tongue taste sour. You squeeze your eyes shut as though to quell it, but this only seems to trap the sound in the recesses on your brain. They grow louder, and harder to forget. 

You see your mother on a wooden stage constructed in the town square before a crowd of horrified spectators, the gnarled boards underfoot already stained in scarlet.

The white linen shift they’d forced her to wear, and the way the thin material flowed away from her frame in the breeze.

The glittering hilt of the jewelled knife that carved out her heart, with the sigil of the king etched into its blade.

The crackling flames that consumed her as she wailed.

A witch can live without her heart, you see, so long as it’s kept close to her. Your mother wasn’t spared a second of the misery of being burned alive. She was granted no mercy in the final terrifying moments of her life.

You open your eyes and the dark sky above you seems to hang closer overhead, as though it’s more suffocatingly near than it was before. The garden around you suddenly feels colder.

Osamu’s eyes widen, like he feels it too.

Your dying lamp burns out.

“Leave this place,” you say to him, low and warning. Your voice rings clear in the unearthly still night. “And if you value your life, never come back here again.”

[cosmic-spider]

Trying to get in

Poppy playtime fem reader x smiling creatures sweet home au

— — — — — — — — — —

After a week of meeting up Bobby and thinking things over. I have decided to take up Bobby’s offer. She told me that it would take a few days to get it the more important toys of her town to look over the idea.

After three days I went over to the field again. As I waited for Bobby I then noticed something off in the distance of some hills off in the distance.

Before I could get up to go and see what it was. Bobby showed up. She told me that the higher up toys said that you would need to have a meeting with me first before they can completely think the idea over.

I told her that I was ok with it. She then told me that I would need to be blindfolded as well as cared. So that the location of there town will stay hidden. I said ok as long as nothing scary happened.

Bobby then took out a small scarf as she then put it on me as a makeshift blindfold. She then picked me up. I think it was bridal style.

Either way she picked me up. She told me to stay calm, and relax since she was now taking me to the meeting area.

As Bobby cared me we made small talk. She told me about her friends. How she would like me to meet them.

After I guess about ten minutes I hear the sound of Bobby opening a door. When I asked she said where in the office building.

As she then continued to walk she then opens another door. Then placed me down on a chair.

Telling me that the other toys will come into the room in a bit. As well as to not be afraid since she will be right in the room next door waiting for me.

— — — — — — — — — —

I only sat down in the chair I was in with my hands on my lap. As I took some calmed breathes as try to calm my self down a bit.

After a few minutes I then hear the sound of the door opening from my right. After a bit I hear something like metal clinking and clanking agents each other.

I then feel the blindfold being pulled off my face. As my eyes adjusted to the light of the room. I see that only half of the room is lit up since the lite was right on top of we’re I was.

I then look into the darkness in front of me only to see a metal hand. It looked to be made out of metal, wires, as well as having a bit of bones at the wrist area.

Uh…hello? I said nervously as I looked at the hand then into the darkens of the other side of the room.

Hello human

A voice called out as it echoed a bit in the room. It was calm at the same time I felt like what we it was it was watching my every move.

I’ve been sent here to talk with someone. Is that you? I asked as i tilted my head as I looked into the darknes of the room.

Yes, that is right. I’m the one you came to meet with.

Ok then it’s nice to meet you um—

Prototype. My name is the prototype.

Nice to meet you s-sir.

The hand then pulled back into the shadows. Then it came back into view with a packet of papers plus a clipboard with papers. Being held out with only two of its long fingers.

Here. Take the clipboard first.

As I take the clipboard as I then get see a pen attached to the side of it. Ok then. What do you want to ask me?

Well you can fill out the papers on the clipboard. As I ask a few things about you?

Sure I don’t mind. Ask a-away. I told him as I then started to read the papers and fill them out.

What other job did you have before?

Well I’ve been a part time teacher helper and have worked in a daycare before that. I-I’ve also work at food and desserts shops. I even had a at home flower shot for sometime.

I said to the unknown figure. As I continued to fill out the paper now flipping it over to the back.

Ok then what job did your parents have?

Oh um I don’t know. I’ve never had parents I was raised by my grandmother. But she had a bakery.

Ok then. You pass the first text now onto the second. What do you know about this place your trying to get into?

Well I don’t know much but Bobby Barehug told me that it’s very big town. T-That everyone is very nice. That I can find a job here and get along with e-everyone.

I answered as I then finished the paper and re-flipped it over to the front side. And pushed the clipboard over to them.

The hand then took the clipboard into the darkness. I hear as they look throw the paper. As I hear the paper being flipped over to the back. Then reflowed to be on the front again.

Oh then everything looks good. I’m going to discuss this with others. So it may take a while to get you and answer. So in the mean time you can fill out this packet.

The prototype said as there hand pushed the packet of paper over to to me.Ok then I’ll be waiting for your response then.

Bobby you can come in now.

The door then opened showing Bobby at the entrance. Hi BB

Hi y/n. She softy wavered at me as she got into the room.

The meeting is over now. You can take her back to the filed.

Ok then.Bobby said as she then got the blindfolded back and then started to put it around my eyes again.

She then picked me up again now with only one hand. The door being opened was then heard.

But before Bobby could start walking I spoke. Good bye prototype. It was nice meeting you.

The prototype didn’t respond as Bobby then started to walk.

After a bit of silent walking Bobby picked me up and placed my feet on the ground. As she then took of the blindfold.

As my eyes adjusted to the light I then turned around to see she had a worried face.

What’s wrong BB?

I’m just a little nervous on what his answer is going to be. She then started to play with the end of her sweater.

I then went up to her taking her hand and holding them in mine. Well as best as I could with her’s coving my whole hands.

Hey it’s ok BB I’m sure everything will be fine. And if I don’t get the ok to get in then we can just keep meeting up here.

Well it’s almost 5 pm. I have to go home i will be back next Friday with this packet filed out. Hopefully the prototype has an answer by then.

I then gave her a hug and started to walk across the field back to my car.

If only it can be that simple.

@asamary

[coff33notforme]

Hello!! Just imagine a reader with magic?? Reader lives deep in the forest so that no one interferes with his existence?? And then Wally and his friends show up, and their little town now has a real wizard

A/n: This was a cute prompt! Thanks for your patience <3

Pairing: Wally Darling and Masc, Wizard Reader (no pronouns used, Fluff, romantic or platonic!)

During a picnic with Barnaby that was cut short due to some unexpected business that Barnaby had to attend to, Wally found himself alone, surrounded by the peace and sorority of the lush greenery around him

He laid down on the silent hill, grass swaying around him as he stared into the pale sky

A warm light emitted from the forest, and the light caught the puppets eye, confused he watched as the specter of light began to change fading into many different hues 

Compelled by the show, Wally began to walk towards the light, the closer he got the more it seemed to withdraw from him, so he followed the trail until it came to an end

Leading him to a small wood cabin, Wally titled his head in confusion he was pretty sure he had never seen this building before, or even on any town maps, how long has this been here?

Curious Wally approached the seemingly lifeless house, hesitantly knocking on the door before it was swung open forcefully, he was greeted with a tried looking person on the other side, their head glazed with sweat, beads of their hair matted to their slick face, their clothes appearing very battered and torn

Upon seeing Wally their expression fell into one of bewilderment, as Wally tired to politely introduce himself, sticking an expectant hand out for you to take

Dumbfounded you took his hand into your weak grasp, after Wally seemingly invited himself into your home, you had explained to him the specter of light he saw was in fact your doing, you were from a different place were it was in common practice to use magic, but when you tried to create a portal you somehow messed it up and ended up here stranded with no way to get home you’ve been trying to recreate the spell from memory, but it seems like you could never get it right

Wally listened intently, though he had no idea what this magic business was, or even how he could comprehend the intricacies of magic or how your world worked but he was determined to help you find your way back home

Wally had offered to take you into town to meet everyone, you were hesitant at first, not sure if inviting more people into your life would help you achieve your goal faster, but after much convincing you gave in, maybe it would be nice to interact with people after all this time

You were pleasantly surprised with how gracious all of Wally's neighbors seemed to be

Some even asked if you would be able to perform some magic for them, to which you replied with giving them a show of lights

Sally and Julie seemed to be the most excited about this new adjustment than anyone else, while

Frank was somewhat impressed

Poppy and Barnaby shared an appreciation and respect for what you were able to do, Howdy, much like Wally couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the whole magic thing, he did think the lights were pretty though!

People around the town seemed to more frequently visit your cabin to either chat or bring something by for you to eat

Occusanily Howdy will come by to ask if you can help him with something at the shop or just to move something with some sort of levitation spell or something like that

Everyone seems to welcome you in so naturally, like you've always been there

Sees to it that you're able to make it back home

Overall everyone is just very interested in you and your magic, so don’t count on being alone for very long <3

Thanks for your patience guys! Back to my somewhat regular posting schedule

[alice-blogs-things]

The Haunting of Hill House (Show) vs The Magnus Archives

Finally started listening to the Magnus Archives this summer, so of course I wanted to see if I could combine its lore with my other favourite horror production of recent times.

The Crain Sibs as Avatars

Steven Crain- the Eye

Places a lot of emphasis on visual evidence when conducting his paranormal investigations

"I've never seen a ghost" Has actually seen several, along with many other fucked up things his siblings did not, such as the warning signs of Olivia spiralling.

Placed in the role of protector of the younger four from childhood, expected to watch over them and keep an eye on them, a duty that never goes away

Come on, you can't tell me that if this guy met Jonathan, especially in the first season, they wouldn't get along.

Shirley Crain-Harris- the Corruption

Bugs feature most prominently in her episode, which features an actual wasp nest

Her kittens all end up being diseased, in effect corrupted before they have a chance

Her literal job is to paint over dead bodies so they're more palatable to look at, while fully knowing the rot beneath, which she is paid to conceal, but can't escape from herself

Theodora Crain- the Eye

Technically has touch-based powers, not sight-based, but her powers come with an immense burden of secret knowledge, Knowing things she shouldn't know

Can't shake hands with someone without getting a front row seat to the worst things they've ever done

Literally Saw her mother as a dead body long before it actually happened, and was terrified by it

Luke Crain- the Lonely

Everyone, the viewer included, thinks his childhood best friend is imaginary.

He's often seen playing alone in the flashbacks, and faces his encounter with William Hill's ghost entirely alone as well

His one friend as an adult ends up betraying him and leaving him alone- making genuine, non-familial connections seems to be an ongoing struggle.

Nell Crain-Vance- the End

Was literally haunted by her own death for twenty-six years and didn't know until it was too late

Her adult self doesn't appear in the second half of the show, except as a ghost

Is tricked into walking- or falling- into her own death by the promise of reuniting with those she's already lost- death is a constant presence for her.

Bonus: Olivia Crain- the Spiral

The more time she spends in Hill House, the more she loses her grip on reality

She's effectively lured into this by Poppy, similar to how Michael and Helen were

Ends up bound to the house, a twisted corruption of her best qualities, no longer able to really know what's best for her family

[tantai-jin]

thouttes abt the boy and the heron

informal summary of some of my impressions and interpretations now that i've watched the film twice and want to put some of this into words... more like assorted notes than an essay with a refined theme or thesis. obv some spoilers ahead

p much the biggest impression i had after my first watch was that this film felt a lot sadder than many of the other studio ghibli a/o miyazaki films, and i think i pinned down some of the reasons better after a second viewing. main examples of this to me were

prominence of death in the story/worldbuilding

dreamlike elements were generally more unsettling and lonely rather than whimsical

music

protagonist's relative solemness

the finality of goodbyes and endings

want to expand on all of these a bit -- be warned that i will have some comparisons w other ghibli films, but since i have not watched all of them super recently and there are a couple i haven't watched (from up on poppy hill, porco rosso) my comparisons may not be that accurate. but i'm not writing an academic essay here, so bleh. for me, the point of comparison here is not to say which story did what better but to look at some similar elements and see how they evolved to serve this story. anyway!

prominence of death in the story/worldbuilding

i think actually the majority of ghibli protagonists have to deal with death intimately -- they may be orphans or have a parent who passed away or is on the verge of it. i think the difference in this movie is that mahito is still grieving for his mother in a more obvious (to the audience) way with his dreams, and then he enters another world through the tower that is "mostly" filled with the dead. kiriko and himi are not dead, but they seem to be more "liminal" than say natsuko or mahito -- younger versions of the people that mahito knows, around in this other world for a very long time, perhaps as long as they can remember, taking care of the warawara who will eventually become the living in the world(s) "above". it's not really clear (to me) if this is THE underworld or afterlife -- although it's filled with the dead, to me it felt like it was just a possible location, one of many possibilities. but then again it also hosts The Stone, which floats above a little island covered in blocks that are made of stones for tombs and tainted with malice. the source of power (and arguably life) rests directly above one representation/connection to death. i don't have a full thesis here but i am chewing on the thought

i thought it was really interesting that the dead did not have the power to kill in this world, and kiriko and himi seem to be the only people apart from the tower master who have powers (kiriko with that wand of fire) + the dead and warawara have to rely on kiriko for the fish catches. anyway i think death itself felt more prominent to me in this film bc mahito was always feeling the absence of his mother and then sunk into a world of death, even if death was not the only thing in that world.

dreamlike elements were generally more unsettling and lonely rather than whimsical

this movie felt a lot more liminal and generally "dreamy" to me, and while a lot of ghibli films are known for their whimsy and cute elements i felt that this one leaned a lot harder into creatures or sensations that were less pleasant. ofc i don't think it's the first one to do this -- off the top of my head, princess mononoke, spirited away, and HMC all definitely depict some "unsettling" stuff like gushing blood, goo, creatures or people melting, and so on. but in those works i feel like there are also a lot of beautiful or cute and whimsical creatures or moments to balance that out a bit, whereas in the boy and the heron it seems to happen less or it Feels less (to me) bc the unsettling parts have greater impact (to me) than the ~beauty~. the heron is beautiful and graceful at a distance, and then it follows him from window to window, interrupts his sleep, flies directly at him like an attack. you have the serene pond by mahito's house in his original world, and then there are the mobs of fish and frogs chanting at mahito and almost smothering him. you have the cutie warawara, and then some of them are eaten or go up in flames. you have the beautiful structures and gardens of himi's home and The Tower, and then you have the unsettling murderous parakeets in them. maybe the point is that they are all "tainted" or somewhat balanced like this.

also, the loneliness. again, not unique to this film, but i felt the presence of it more heavily, especially visually. in mahito's house in the countryside, most of the rooms are quite bare, save for natsuko's bedroom with its ornate wallpaper and carpet. mahito's room is quite sparse apart from the books on his desk. once we get into the sea world, it's wide and relatively empty -- an uninterrupted expanse of sea, eventually dotted with small islands, but those little islands are quite sparse too, mostly filled with trees. the lines of sailboats on the horizon, "none of which are real," as if they're all optical illusions. the rowboats powered by the dead, all of the rowers onboard appearing exactly the same with no way to differentiate one from another. inside the tower and near it, there are also these "bare" spaces -- that very illusion-like space of those arches, where you have to cross that empty and silent expanse from darkness into the blinding light that leads into the paradise-like garden. the island where The Stone is, just a hill covered in stones and grass growing over top. the delivery room, which is dark and bare apart from the mobile with the rotating paper strips. so much of it felt isolated and quiet in a lonely way to me.

music

to tie in with that last part, i think the music also felt generally more sparse and solemn than other ghibli osts, and i'm sure it was intentional. i've been listening to the ost for the past two-ish weeks and my impressions are that there's generally "less" orchestration and a lot more isolated piano sound. a lot of that piano is slow/drawn out and there's not as many chords, and the chords that Are there are simpler (maybe only two or three notes). there's a lot of intentional dissonance, both in piano parts And the parts with more instruments -- isolated piano is more obvious, but i can definitely hear it in the strings. it's hard to explain more than that without like, showing examples of specific clips or sheet music lmao but i think it definitely contributes to the overall moods of loneliness, somber tones, and unsettling vibes. like when you know you're having a really weird dream but can't wake up from it.

protagonist's relative solemness

most ghibli protags are precocious and have a greater sense of responsibility than the average child/teenager their age, but i really felt it with mahito. the sequence of him briefly in school was so interesting -- i really like how there was no dialogue in it and it was just music, bc the conversations didn't really matter when mahito was going to purposely isolate himself/make it so that he didn't have to go back and attempt to make friends there. mahito does have moments where he shows strong emotions: grief abt his mother, anger when the grey heron "disrespects" her honor with the illusion of her, more anger when he sees the warawara being burned, determination when he tries to get natsuko out of the delivery room. but in general those seemed like short bursts between longer stretches where he felt much more solemn and accepting of the current circumstances. when in the sea world, his curiosity about it felt restrained or maybe even limited -- he was there to find natsuko and nearly everything else was less of a priority. even when he decided to accept natsuko as his mother, it felt almost like he knew it was his fate and he simply had to go along with it without any other passionate conviction. he didn't seem to care about finding his own path or realizing any dreams for his future. i don't think this is a bad thing, but it was a different tone than i was used to for most ghibli films.

the finality of goodbyes and endings

again, certainly not the first time something has literally crumbled or been destroyed in a ghibli film: the forest in princess mononoke, howl's moving castle falling apart, the existing ravaged/poisoned world in nausicaa. however, i think the scale of it was much wider here: instead of an important structure or one contained place, the original stone was shattered and that whole world collapsed completely into space/time so that the pieces could not be rebuilt. the ending still has some hope - mahito chooses to return to this world so that he can be with his family and friends. but seeing how worlds could be built with two handfuls of building blocks and be knocked down just as easily, and then watching all of it shatter before his eyes? watching the (probably) only remaining version of his mother go through the door to another world separate from his own? a bigger loss to experience, imo. if the stone was destroyed and the tower collapsed, there's no other way to even try to get back to that portal space and other worlds (not that mahito would actually try to). that's the point, and despite knowing that, it still feels like a heavier blow to me that All Possibility is truly gone. unless another similar stone falls from the sky i guess lol, but the point is that it would never be the same.

as one friend put it, this felt like a goodbye from miyazaki. the possibility for a perfectly harmonious and peaceful world does not exist; those in power will seek to destroy what they cannot control and there may be no coming back from it; perhaps you must accept that you must live in a world of atrocities.

and one last thing i wanted to talk abt even tho this is so long already: symbolism regarding suffering & critique of society

not at all surprising that this film too shows some effects of war, but that was not the biggest impression of Suffering that i got from it. three main examples for me: the pelicans, the parakeets, and the building block stones.

pelicans: brought to this world by the tower master himself, unable to eat most of the fish in the sea, forced to eat the warawara to survive. doing something that others consider terrible bc they have to in order to live. no matter how they try to escape, they can only fly so high and it's not enough. birds that forget how to fly and/or are (symbolically) chained/caged to one place (there is prob more to be said abt how there are so many birds in this movie and they're all fucked up in a way but i don't have the thoughts/words to expand on it).

parakeets: normally(?) considered cute but kind of grotesque in this story, at least in the sea world. often moving in units like soldiers or as if an assembly line, mechanically and identically, having not much purpose other than guarding their territory, identifying and eating outsiders/intruders (the living??). seem to be kind of stupid -- can be tricked very easily. they unanimously celebrate their king, a parakeet that looks more like an eagle bc of his coloring.

speaking of which: the king himself, insisting on punishing transgressors even though they haven't done any tangible damage, holding rules/the current system in greater esteem than the situation in reality. claims to do everything for the good of his kingdom/people but haphazardly tries to seize control and build a new world himself when mahito won't do it. on the one hand, it makes sense that he would get mad that an outsider (mahito) has so much control over and responsibility of his people, rather than the parakeets taking care of themselves. but then he decides he'd rather destroy everything rather than rebuild? he does not wield his power responsibly here, and in the end he also has to escape. i feel like i'm barely scratching the surface of the potential commentary about this, and i definitely am not being precise enough with my wording. but it's not a very subtle allusion being made in the film haha

and then, the little stones! first, it's interesting that supposedly an entire world comes into being and continuously exists because of a couple pieces balancing on each other. perhaps more ironic that they resemble children's toys, simple shapes, but then are made out of the same material intended for tombstones. precariously stacked to make a new world, and they have to be rebalanced -- always shaped by someone's actions, not just something that stands on its own.

a whole mound/small island of them tainted with malice, and above them floats the ~divine~ stone, source of all power. mahito won't touch them, so the tower master searches through space to find pure ones. even stones untouched by malice cannot create a purely harmonious and peaceful world because the creator/master will always have some malice on their hands, some stain that makes them imperfect. he does have one piece with him when he returns to his original world -- sign of potential for building something new in the future, even if it's just in his own world? or is it just a momento of everything he experienced?

anyway. phew. how to end this. there are def some things i still don't understand fully - why natsuko was in the delivery room/why she felt like she had to have her baby in this world; what exactly made mahito decide to accept natsuko as his mother; the tomb behind the gate that said "those who seek my knowledge will die." there's probably more but i can't think of it right now. maybe an eventual rewatch in the future will unveil more for me! but i do think the mystery is part of the fun and part of the intention. it's hard to understand every facet of a dream.

[solyxa]

"You wanna what?"

"I wanna do your hair."

It was a simple request, yet it had Cove blushing as he stood in a rigid state. He could barely even hold eye contact with you, in fact, he was staring at the floor now. You weren't complaining because that meant he wouldn't be able to see how flushed your face was.

As you two were so close, you thought it would be fun to style his hair. Though you'd be lying if you said the prospect of being close to him in the midst of it didn't make you wanna do it even more, even if the very thought of it made your heart race.

A few minutes of you both just staring at the ground passed before you heard him speak again.

"...Okay."

So that's how you got here, Cove sitting in the chair in your room while you stood and ran your hands through his hair. The prospect of sitting between your legs proved to be too much for him, as it seemed like he was just about ready to faint when you suggested it.

You took a brush to his strands, gently detangling any knots and styling it. Cove didn't brush his hair aside from running his fingers through it, and it showed. He had been that way since you were kids, you remember watching him mess with it on that trip your family took when you were younger. You smiled affectionately as you reminisced about that road trip. You both were thirteen and figuring yourselves out, but you had an understanding you were still doing it together. You remember how you'd called him up to the loft and he slept there with you until his parents found him. The way he flirted with you, face turning red as he complimented your eyes. You had adored him then, and you adored him now.

"Is... something wrong?" You're snapped out of your thoughts by Cove's wary voice. You finally notice that your hands have stilled, resting in his hair. He sits there twiddling his thumbs as you stall for an answer. After all, you can't exactly state the truth of how absolutely in love with him you are... Or can you?

You've loved him since you were eight, when you first laid eyes on that teary-eyed boy on the poppy hill. How could you not? He was positively endearing, especially to you. You couldn't keep silent anymore. He had to know.

"Actually, there is something I have to say." You toyed with a strand of his hair as you struggled for the right words to say. Cove waited patiently for you, only tilting his head in response as you continued playing with his hair.

"Cove, you're so amazing, and wonderful and since the first time we met, I've looked forward to seeing your face every day. I love you so much, Cove... Please be mine."

You breathe out the words in a single breath and once you finish, there's silence. No response from Cove, you're not even sure he's breathing as you slowly retract your hands from his hair. Before you can begin to panic too much, he moves.

Abruptly, he spins around in the chair, stopping when he can finally see you. He sits up, rigid with his lips pressed into a thin line as he stares up at you. Face flushed with a blush that spreads to his ears, he fidgets with the hem of his shirt as his mouth opens and closes a few times, making it clear he has something to say.

You bend down to his seated level and lean in, not wanting to miss a single word. The close proximity makes his blush turn even deeper, but he resolves to speak anyways. "I- Mm, me too." That simple confirmation would have been enough for you, but Cove had other plans.

"I feel the same way, I love you more than anything and I... I..." Deciding to let his actions do the talking, he slowly, gently brings you down to his level before leaning closer, closer until your lips touch. The kiss is gentle and loving, and when you pull away, you see tears shining in his eyes. He gives you a wobbly smile as he speaks.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that..."

"I think I've got some idea, because I've wanted to do it just as long."

You take his face in your hands, brushing his tears away as you think to yourself...

Asking to do his hair must be the best decision you've ever made.

[differenteagletragedy]

Teen angst Cove :(

Takes place in Step 3, at the end of the Drinks moment in Baxter's DLC. You just went to see the play with Mr. Monochrome then invited him in your house to talk to him about his feelings, but little did you know your bestie was having some big feelings of his own across the street.

Cove had always been blunt with his words. Especially when he was younger, he'd say whatever came to mind -- not with the intent of hurting others, but that's what happened sometimes. He'd gotten a little more sensitive as he got older, more able to distinguish what he should express and what would be better left unsaid.

That was what haunted him most though -- the things he'd chosen to keep to himself.

He thought about that as he peered out the window in his living room, watching you with Baxter

He hadn't meant to spy on you, at least not at first. He got home late, having closed up at the restaurant, and wanted to see you after a particularly draining shift. He'd quickly changed his clothes and then did a quick peep to see if your light was still on.

Instead, he saw Baxter's car pull up into his spot next door. When he saw you both get out, dressed to the nines, his curiosity got the better of him. Not enough to actually want to go outside and talk to Baxter, but enough to keep watching.

Cove expected to be able to go over after you were done, using his preferred window method. Instead, he watched the two of you talking in the street between your houses. Trying to figure out what you were talking about that made you look so serious, he quickly stopped when he saw you lead him to your front door and lead him inside.

There was nothing else to see at his lonely spot by the window.

Cove liked you. Like really, deeply, achingly liked you. Sometimes he thought about whether it might be love, but he wasn't sure if he could go that far without, you know, you actually knowing about his feelings.

As he walked back to his room, utterly defeated and trying desperately not to think about why you'd be taking the weirdo neighbor inside your house this late at night, he had an inkling it might be love after all.

It wasn't that he didn't know about you and Baxter -- he definitely did. He'd listen to you gush about how the cute boy you'd danced with five years ago randomly popped back into your life and asked to be your "suitor for a season," like it was the most romantic, charming thing in the world and not a way-too-forward move from a pushy creep who would disappear in a couple of months.

Seeing you that happy was nice, if he didn't think too hard about the reason, and in his more rational moments, Cove could accept that maybe jealousy was tinging his feelings about Baxter a bit.

But underneath all of it -- the jealousy, the confusion -- the worst of it was the regret.

Cove knew you were special for years -- most of his life at this point, even. He knew it when you popped up all those years ago on the poppy hill when he was sure his young life was falling apart. You helped put him back together, and as time went by, as he got to know you and share experiences with you, that knowledge only solidified. You were everything to him. Important enough that he'd never been able to risk changing things between you by telling you that he'd also really like to kiss you sometimes.

He'd tried to stifle that part of his feelings for you for a while now. Sometimes he looked at your lips a little too long while you were talking, and sometimes at the beach he'd let himself stare at you in your swimsuit while you weren't paying attention. Then there were the dreams, which were exhilarating but shameful -- when they happened, he was at least able to comfort himself a little by reminding himself that he couldn't control what his body did when he was asleep.

The words had almost come out a few times -- when you'd gone on the RV trip with your families and he'd gotten up the courage to ask you about what you like on another person. After he told you about his affinity for anklets, you wore one every once in a while, just to tease him, he was sure. Still, he thought about telling you then, just in case there was a chance you were trying to send him a message, but the thought of him ruining your friendship with an unreciprocated crush was enough to make him bite his tongue.

But none of that mattered now. You were enamored with Baxter, and he was feeding his fish, preparing for a night alone.

[sidecharactersdomatter]

Which Studio Ghibli film is your favorite?

Oh it’s been a really long time since I’ve watched any Studio Ghibli movie since COVID, I did love My Neighbor Totoro since childhood, then Kiki’s Delivery Service, later Nausicaa: The Valley of the Wind. From Up on Poppy Hill was pretty good since it had a realistic story.

My first favorite is the Cat Returns since I tend to be a Cat Person it had great backgrounds and cat designs. Later during Act 2 there was also good comedy thanks to the Icon Muta/Reynaldo Moon. My favorite character was Yuki since her design really called back to Duchess and Marie from The Aristocats(still on watchlist.) Baron Humbert was a well written and consistent main character. Haru was also a well written female lead, she didn’t need a sword or fighting throughout the movie, instead she had her words, wit, and courage. Those three traits are highly important in writing a compelling female protagonist.

My second favorite is Castle of Cagliostro, the whole scenery reminds me of Italy and Switzerland, both are places I’d like to visit again. The film is packed with a lot of action scenes from start to finish. The main antagonist got what’s coming to him. Characters like Arsene inspired some of my OCs in writing and for future comics. The main cast was interesting and badass. I liked that aside from a heist story, there was also a theme of mystery going on.

In conclusion, my two favorite Ghibli films are Castle of Cagliostro and The Cat Returns. Both movies are listed on my Ghibli Watchlist.

[chaikachi]

Hi, Chai! I've been following you for a bit, mostly for the RG content, and I've recently seen you talk about your other non-RWBY interests when I realized that I'm really curious on what other media do you like? (Be it shows, movies, music, games, books, etc.)

Oughh this is a very good question. I'll put them under a read more cause I have a feeling I took this question too literally and it might get just a little bit long because of that. 💦

I'm generally very passive with the media I consume and only draw as much RWBY as I do because RG has had me in a vice grip since V8E1 and isn't letting go anytime soon. 💀 But I do engage with lots of other stuff too! This isn't an exhaustive list, just ones I like lots or re-watch often enough.

Anime

I probably watch this stuff more than anything else. My favourite of all time is probably The Eccentric Family, both seasons. The art direction and the messages of the story just hit very hard for me and I re-watch it pretty much every year. My second favourite is Kekkai Sensen (i prefer the first over second season as they switch directors).

As for others enjoy:

Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood

Silver Spoon

Yona of the Dawn

Snow White with the Red Hair

Kyousogiga (recommend if you liked Kekkai Sensen)

A Lull in the Sea

Chaika the Coffin Princess [Now why does that name sound so familiar 🤔]

Anohana

Been really enjoying this season's shows and am looking forward to the Winter 2024 lineup (Dungeon Meshi and Yubisaki to Renren at the same time!!)

Shows

Dragon Prince

The Owl House

Good Omens

Games

Nier (2010),

Transistor

Pyre

Zelda Series (Ocarina of Time & Spirit Tracks are my favourites)

Nier: Automata

Honorary mentions to Grand Chase (an old MMO i used to be obsessed with), Avalon Code (a niche DS game that I really liked), Fire Emblem Awakening (a classic) and Animal Crossing (that I played like it was my day job in 2020).

Movies

Can only think of two live actions and the rest are animated/anime 😭

Stardust

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World

Howl's Moving Castle

HTTYD (1 & 2)

Kubo and the Two Strings

The Wind Rises

From Up on Poppy Hill

Penguin Highway

Books

I don't read as much as I did when I was a kid, but my top three are probably Runemarks, Howl's Moving Castle, and Stardust (I like the last two a lot because I liked their movies).

Webcomics

Used to be really into these and wanted to write my own before Webtoon kinda... gentrified the entire industry. But hey, I can still talk about some of my favourites!

Shaderunners (queer heist in a roaring 20sish setting)

Witchy (queer south East Asian inspired fantasy adventure)

Kochab (sapphic story between a skier that gets lost and meets a fire spirit I think? It's final updates are going up this month!)

Lady of the Shard (all time favourite. queer polyam lovestory between a goddess and her acolyte. Complete. I reread it every year, I love it so much. The rest of the authors work is also great, you might know them from Cucumber Quest).

Then lastly...

Music

I mostly listen to indie/folk more than anything else, with a bit of jazz/R&B thrown in for flavour. Favourite artists are probably:

San Fermin

Flock of Dimes/Wye Oak

Of Monsters & Men

Maggie Rogers

Florence & the Machine

Paper Kites

Matthew and the Atlas

Halsey

This list obviously isn't exhaustive because I have the memory of a goldfish but those are the highlights that came to mind at least.

Sorry for the long list, but thank you for the question!! It was fun to put all these in one place.

[lilaxhazbinhotel]

Authors note: Hello this is my first fanfic and I hope you enjoy! Please be nice im not the greatest writer but I wanted to try something new.

Characters:

*my oc Lila a seraphim angel that is Lucifer's yiunger sister with large white wings, long white hair, pale skin and bright blue eyes.

*Adam from hazbin hotel but before he got gifted Eve.

Content warnings: none

"In the beginning" (Adam x Oc) *Part I*

In the beginning Adam and Lilith were created but when Lilith fell with Lucifer to hell Adam was left alone. It would take awhile before heaven could gift him a new wife so they began the process of creating Eve. In the meantime he was alone, bored with his life until one day.

Adam was laying under a tree in the garden when he heard singing? But there was no one else around. He was curious and decided to follow the singing and it led him to a hotspring deep in the garden he had never been to. He looked around and saw something, a women swimming in the water, she went under the water and stood up flipping her hair back getting the water off, her large wings shook a bit of the water off and walked out of the water behind a tree.

Adam was very intrigued by the beauty of the girl and watched from afar admiring her features, her pale skin, her bright blue eyes, her long white hair, and her large wings. He was entranced and didn't know what this feeling was. When the girl walked back out from behind the tree she wore a white dress that was sleeveless and open on the sides, she began to walk and hum through the forest and Adam followed her.

As the girl walked humming and swaying, she tied her hair up in a high ponytail and walked on, she walked for a bit before entering a large open field covered in red poppys and white butterflies, she smiled and danced in the large field with the butterflies, Adam watched from the treeline and felt himself smile at her dancing, who was this girl? Where did she come from?, were questions he was curious about but ignored as he watched her.

The girl had a butterfly land on her hand and she was looking towards the treeline, Adam hadn't realized he was visible and the girl got startled and fell backwards down a hill. Panicked, Adam rushed out from the tree line to make sure she was ok. He got to the edge of the hill and saw her at the bottom brushing herself off. "A-Are you ok?", Adam asked nervous. "I'm alright I didn't see you there hehe", *The girl said with a bright smile and small chuckle before she flew up the flew and landed infront of Adam.

Adam felt his face get hot by the sudden closeness of the girl, what was this feeling? He didn't know what to say next and just stared down at her, she was smaller than him and she looked up at him. "Are you ok?", the girl asked. "Huh, oh yeah! I'm fine hehe all good here", Adam said seeming to snap out of his trance. The girl chuckled at his nervousness. "My name is Lila I'm one of the Seraphim from Heaven", the girl said putting her hand out for him to shake it. Adam shook the girls hand and spoke. "I'm Adam the first man", he said.

"Well it's nice to meet you Adam", Lila said with a big smile looking up at him. Hearing her say his name he felt his heart beat faster than ever before. "I-its nice to meet you too Lila", Adam said hesitantly. "Do you want to watch the clouds with me?", Lila asked as she sat on the ground in the meadow. "Sure", Adam said slowly sitting next to her. Lila laid back and looked up at the sky watching the clouds, Adam laid next to her and then two of them talked and laughed for hours, Adam finally didnt feel alone anynore he adored Lila almost immediately. The sun soon went down.

"Well time for me to go home", Lila said standing up with a stretch before looking back at Adam. "Wait am I going to see you again?", Adam said worried. "Of course you will tell you what I'll come back and hangout with you everyday sound good?", Lial said looking up at him. Adam felt himself smile with glee when she said she would come back everyday. "Yeah that sounds great! I'll see you tomorrow then", Adam said excitedly. Lila smiled, "I'll see you tomorrow Adam", she said waving as she flew up to Heaven.

Our the next few months Lila would fly down to visit Adam everyday and spend the whole day with him. The two had grown quite close to eachother becoming bestfriends. Adam was happy he wasn't alone anymore.

One day Adam was chasing Lila through the woods in a game they created. Lila jumped through the brush nearby and Adam followed but on the other side he was back in the meadow of red poppys he looked around not seeing Lila. "Alright come on out Lila this is fair to hide", Adam said looking around the meadow. Adam looked around calling out for her but started to panick not being able to find her. "Lila?! Lila where are you?! Come on this isn't funny anymore!", Adam yelled looking around, did she really just disappear like that. Adam was breathing heavily looking frantically for her when suddenly she jumped out of a bush tackling him laughing. "Boo!", Lila said with a giggle on top of him. Adam looked at her for a minute before retaliating and picking her up and spinning her laughing, she squealed and laughed as he spun her around in his arms. "Adam put me down!", she laughed as he threw her over his shoulder and walked back into the woods carrying her over his shoulder. "Nope", Adam said with a chuckle as he carried her.

He carried her into the hotspring and then dropped her in the water, Adam laughed and Lila sat up splashing him with water, he looked stunned for a minute but then they both laughed and got into a water fight splashing eachother back and forth. Lila tripped Adam and he fell on top of her. They both were laughing in the shallow water of the hotspring, Adam hovered over her and looked at her both of their laughter died down as they stared at eachother. Adam gently brushed a piece of hair out of her face then placed his hand on her cheek caressing it with his thumb. They had never been this close like this and they couldn't break away from the others gaze. Adam leaned forward and Lila could feel his breath on her lips, then his lips pressed against hers. He was kissing her, she closed her eyes and kissed him back, this kiss was gentle and passionate. His lips were so soft and gentle against hers. When they broke away they looked at eachother, Lila was blushing like crazy.

"I-im sorry I don't know what came over me! I- I'm so sorry!", Adam said panicked and embarrassed by his actions. Lila put her hand on his cheek and he froze looking at her again, she leaned forwarded and kissed him again. Adam instantly kissed her back and pulled her onto his lap kissing her holding her hips. Lila ran her fingers through his hair as they continued to kiss when they broke away again they were breathing heavily. "Adam I love you", Lila said softly. Adam looked at her shocked then smiled. "I love you too Lila", Adam said lovingly. The two smiled and hugged eachother. This was the first time Adam really felt love like this.

As their relationship flourished they would do small dates and just enjoy eachothers company. One night Adam and Lila were cuddling in the meadow of poppys looking at the stars in the sky. "Hey Lila?", Adam said. "Yes Adam?", Lila responded. "Can you promise me something?", Adam asked. "Of course what is it?", Lila asked. "Promise me you'll never leave me like Lilith", Adam said. Lila rolled on her side and looked at him and put her hand on his cheek and he looked at her. "I swear on my life I will never leave you Adam I love you with my whole being", Lila said then she gave him a gentle kiss on the head. Adam smiled and kissed her gebtly before he cuddled into her and the two fell asleep happy. But their happiness wouldn't last forever.

...........To Be Continued.................

[doublemyheight]

Olba week event, day 3, poppy, hosted by @olba-week-event

Alex likes poppies and poppy hill, it's their favorite place. The place they retreat to when feeling overwhelmed or angry, or sad, or even happy. They had come to poppy hill at lot, their sort of safe place.

It was night, the night that Baxter had said they would never see each.other again. It was the kind of finality that they hadn't ever experienced before. It wasn't pleasant what so ever. It was actually really unpleasant.

Alex liked Baxter, at first he was just friendly and they wanted to befriend him to see what his deal was. But, well this wasn't that anymore.

They plucked a poppy from the field, it was pretty and they smiled faintly looking at it.

Baxter had let Alex get closer, always still keeping that arm length distance, but, well. Alex was trying to get closer, but now, their interest in him was broken.

He didn't want anything to do with them, so they weren't going to spend too long wishing for something different. Well, tonight was for sure one they were going to spend a while thinking about Baxter fucking Ward.

Sighing they twirled the poppy in between their fingers. The wind blew through their hair, a smell of the ocean filling their nose.

Lying back on the ground they watched the clouds that lightly covered the sky, the moon was bright out tonight. Lucky for them. They brought the poppy to their face and started twirling it again.

They wanted to have never tried to get closer romantically to Baxter. It, it was feeling like a waste of time. They knew it wasn't actually, he's a person and they had enjoyed the time they spent with him. It's just, they put in so much effort in getting to know him, inviting him to places and spending time with him. They had believed things were going great.

But, now they knew things weren't great. And it hurt a little to think that he hadn't viewed them like they viewed him. They hadn't thought it would be a forever thing, they had never really thought that with anyone before either.

Alex had thought it would at least last into the end of August before things were ended. Baxter had said “summer fling”. Although they hoped that it would last longer than just summer. He hadn't lied to them at the beginning of what he wanted it to be.

Maybe that was all they should have expected. They felt stupid for thinking anything different. Sighing they dropped their hand to their chest and closed their eyes.

Poppy hill is their favorite place. They always came here to calm down or celebrate something alone. So they laid in the grass and thought about Baxter Ward. The summer fling they got a little too invested in and ended up regretting it. They'd be okay, but right now it hurt, and that's why they were here.

[batgirlsay]

Falling Through Time

A Legend of Zelda AU Playlist for Obiyuki Bingo 2023 by @snowwhite-andtheknight

I was so excited to see Zelda on my bingo board! I’ve been playing Tears of the Kingdom almost every day since release date and I have so many Zelink feels… glad they also overlap with my Obiyuki feels! (This one is a more general Zelda playlist and has specific Obiyuki feels, but I am also posting a playlist for the first day of Zelink week too!)

There are time/memory related lyrics throughout the playlist, with a shift after the Louie Zong song to after they get reunited at the end of each game (if only I was able to get there…)

Falling Through Time

Ocarina of Time- Zelda’s Theme- Good Knight Productions You Fall When You Hesitate- Mae Playing With Fire- Brandon Flowers The Great War- Taylor Swift This River is Wild- The Killers My Valuable Hunting Knife- Guided By Voices Gerudo Valley Social Club- Louie Zong I Can Make You Feel Young Again- Copeland

Summary lyrics are cited after the cut:

You Fall When You Hesitate- Mae

Time machine, I'm adding up And I'm killing time all the while it’s time that's killing

Time machine, I want to go back To live in my past is exactly right where I want to be It's nostalgia haunting me

She says to me that You fall when you hesitate You crawl after tripping on your regrets You fall in and out of love again

Found the reason I could back down to dust See the daylight and the moon lit in the night above That's the treason but I do it for your love If I felt you But what if I failed you?

Playing With Fire- Brandon Flowers

That road outside that you've been taking home forever That'll be the same road that I take when I depart Those charcoal veins that hold this chosen land together May twist and turn but somewhere deep there is a heart

However dangerous the road, however distant These things won't compromise the will of the design

Ten thousand demons hammer down with every footstep Ten thousand angels rush the wind against my back

Rolling River of Truth, can you spare me a sip? The Holy Fountain of Youth has been reduced to a drip I've got this burning belief in salvation and love This notion may be naïve, but when push comes to shove I will till this ground

The Great War- Taylor Swift

Spineless in my tomb of silence Tore your banners down, took the battle underground

Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur

All that bloodshed, crimson clover Sweet dream was over My hand was the one you reached for All throughout the Great War Always remember Tears on the lеtter I vowed not to cry anymore If wе survived the Great War

Soldier down on that icy ground Looked up at me with honor and truth

We can plant a memory garden Say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair And we will never go back

This River is Wild- The Killers

But you always hold your head up high Cause it's a long, long, long way down

You better run for the hills before they burn Listen to the sound of the world, don't watch it turn I just want to show you what I know And catch you when the current lets you go

I've been trying hard to do what's right But you know I could stay here all night And watch the clouds fall from the sky

My Valuable Hunting Knife- Guided By Voices

I want to start a new life With my valuable hunting knife She will shine like a new girl And I want to shout out our love to the world

Days, they will turn into nights But my valuable hunting knife It will not rust through the tears And it will not lose its appeal over years

I Can Make You Feel Young Again- Copeland

Take me now, take me anywhere you're going Cause I can't stay here; I won't make it long And this piece of my soul you're controlling In this time and this space where we belong, it's worsening

It's breaking down, as a reel of thread unwinding You're surfacing just to take me down When I feel like I'm dead, you're reviving me

A billion stars and here we are The same bit of dirt holding our weight And before it drags us under I can make you feel young again

I can make you feel nothing at all for the years that led you here Now all your tears that are falling will never show I can make you feel young again

[thedrunkenreadersreviews]

A long review of "Exquisite Corpse" by Poppy Z. Brite

NOTE: This review contains spoilers for "Exquisite Corpse." At the time of publication, the name of the author was Poppy Z. Brite. During reprints of the book, such as the copy of it that I have, the author's name still appears as Poppy Z. Brite. The author now goes by the name William Joseph Martin with the author name of "Exquisite Corpse" remaining Poppy Z. Brite. His website refers to the previous publication name of Poppy Z. Brite. This review respects Martin's pronouns (male) and name. His publication name in the title is only a reflection of the name of the author that still appears on new editions of the book as well as on the author's website. Going forward, the author will be referred to as Martin with male pronouns.

*Pours margarita out of the pitcher and into the glass. Sip, sip*

I know, right? Where the hell did this one come from? Well, it is a bit older but I was recommended it by a few people so I thought I'd give it a read. I am one of those people who can read extreme horror books and show no facial expressions whatsoever. I grew up watching horror movies, my Dad not noticing my three-year-old eyes peeping between the staircase railings as he watched Scream and The Exorcist on the big screen in the living room. I'll read about serial killers, watch the documentaries, and dig up all the dirty details. I guess this is why I love history so much; so many forgotten, unexplored details. But I digress.

*Sip, sip*

This book compiles a bunch of elements and throws them all into a pot like the numerous ingredients going into gumbo (get it? 'Cus ... 'cus it takes place in New Orleans mostly ... anyway). But while most of it works and Martin has a fantastic command of words there are some areas that fall flat.

*Sip, sip*

First, the praise.

Martin is a fantastic sentence writer. What I mean by that is, yes, he has an excellent command of words and yes, the sentences flow beautifully, and yes, sometimes you sit there and think, wow, that was an incredible sequence of words to explain this emotion or event or character or whatever it is. Martin can write an incredible sentence ... that does not mean that he is an incredible author.

*Sip, sip*

Now, hold on. I'm not suggesting that Martin is a bad author. I will confess, this is the only book I read by him. However, I will die on the hill of what I just said---Martin writes great sentences but the story is a little flat in the case of THIS book.

*Sip, sip*

The length of the novel, I must say was perfect. Nothing in the book was fluff, every detail was essential to understand the characters and the story. Also, with a book containing the subject material as this one does, less is more. If the book is too fat, too filled with gory details, the hardcore readers who won't flinch (like myself) will be able to push through, no problem. However, the exploratory reader might find themselves stepping away because the material is too thick. Length, in this area, is everything for this reason. Martin seems to understand that----mostly.

*Sip, sip*

The characters. For the most part, they are ... okay.

Focusing on the main ones, of course.

*Sip, sip*

Compton has a real Jack the Ripper vibe to him, is entirely self-serving, but not really balanced. What I mean by that is, his character is kind of two-dimensional. He doesn't really go into the "why" at any point. His backstory is lacking and his psyche is very, I'm doing this so I can do this to do this. There is no concept of consequence or inner struggle. Which, I understand, he is a serial killer. However, those types of people have more thoughts than just what I refer to as "road map thinking." Road map thinking is - I'll do A to get to B which will get me to C so then I can get to D. It's ... dull. Really, the only time Compton becomes interesting is when he meets Jay because that kind of throws a twist into his thinking. But even so, upon Jay's death there really isn't any diving into it. Compton kind of just leaves and says he's going to try to be in this state of meditation to be with Jay but here's the thing: the two of them interact so little that I was thinking, "Woah, when did any of this happen?" Granted, Compton is absolutely inflating this idea of love with what I'd say to be found obsession (Someone like me! We must be soul mates!). But even that is not fully unwrapped. Compton is the only character with a first-person narration in the book (which, I don't think did it any justice), while everyone else is viewed through the third person. I think it would have been great if Compton was in the third-person or everyone was in first. That way if one character is thinking one way because that is how their mind works, we should see how the others' minds work.

*Sip, sip*

Jay, by contrast, has a real Jeffrey Dahmer vibe. Like, tremendously. Even down to his looks, his method of killing, his reasons for killing, his disposal of the evidence and corpses. Anyway, he was also very flat with not a lot of backstory.

*Sip, sip*

I guess I found myself disappointed with these two main characters because, yes, THEY ARE EVIL, and one of the most important things that we can do as people is examine that evil. What led to that? What messed up their minds so much that they deviated so incredibly from the path? What happened to Dahmer that led him to do those things? What was wrong with Bundy? What the fuck was going on with Gacey? What the hell was the Zodiac killer's deal? Why was Jack the Ripper so fucked up? Why are these questions important? To try to stop this from ever happening again. There are always going to be serial killers and evil people, but the more we understand evil the more we can combat it and, more than that, prevent it. I wanted to know what happened to Jay and Compton. What brought them here but we don't ever get a peek and that peek, I think (for it is the case with me) is what interests us, as an audience and (hopefully) non-evil people when exploring these areas. Like, Damn! Who fucked you up so bad that this is what you do now? It is our desperation to solve the mystery, to find logic in the illogical, and to make something nonsensical make sense.

*Sip, sip. Sip, sip*

Tran. Damn. I barely had sympathy for Tran. Did I want him to die? No, absolutely not. I wasn't necessarily mourning him, however, or pleading for him to have a miraculous escape. If he did manage to get away, that would have been cool but I didn't really mind that he died in the end. Why? Well, that whole conversation with his dad. Tran kind of took this whole "woe is me" approach and I was just like "weird take ... but okay ..." I think his father had every right to be concerned. Tran, after all, was a very young adult who was obviously queer during the time a strain of a deadly disease that was running rampant through the queer community. The letters his father found, though he did not know the age of the person, were written by an adult to his young adult son and spoke in tremendous explicits. And Tran's father never tells Tran he has to leave. Tran just takes it upon himself to do so.

*Sip, sip*

In no way would I ever support a parent disowning, disapproving, or even ridiculing their child for being part of the queer community. That is horrible. It is alluded to that Tran's dad (T.V.) does not approve or like the fact that Tran is queer---more than that, T.V. does not seem to like the fact that his son is having all of these explicit things done to him, is taking hard narcotics, engaging in sexual activity with a deadly strain going around, and not knowing if Tran has ever brought any of that stuff into the house with the two younger kids around. T.V. also goes on to blame himself, saying that if Tran is doing all these things, he must have failed as a parent. 99% of this makes logical sense from a parent's standpoint. Do children deserve privacy? Yes, absolutely. Do all parents snoop into their child's belongings from time to time? Yes, absolutely. Why? For these very reasons. It's not a lack-of-trust thing. It is a been-there-done-that thing and I-want-you-to-do-better. In T.V.'s and other immigrant parents' cases, I think it is more of a I-sacrificed-a-lot-to-get-us-here-please-don't-waste-this-opportunity thing. And, it can also be a combination of both.

*Sip, sip*

And Tran dropping that whole "well, you came into my room and went through my things so you don't trust me" line when he lied to his dad literally like a minute before, come on.

*Sip, sip*

He's a teenager. Yes, I get it. I really do. Teenagers lie to their parents and they do stupid things and they don't think their parents know anything and that they know everything. I was a teenager at one point too and I, for the most part, thought the same thing. I guess what really turned me away from caring so much about Tran is never does he think, "Maaaayyyyyybbbbbbeeeeee my dad was right about something." Not everything, but something. Nope. Never.

And he constantly, constantly puts himself into stupid situations. And he is a cheater. I have no forgiveness for cheaters. Doesn't mean I wanted him to die, I just felt nothing for him.

*Sip, sip*

Luke. Ugh! I liked him a little in the beginning but then the more I read about him the more I hated him. The fact that he tried to kill Tran, the fact that he was EVEN WITH Tran when there is that tremendous age gap! And once again, all for the sake of "woe is me." I know he is pissed off at the world for the shitty card he was dealt but I'm supposed to care about a character who tried to kill someone he claims he loves because he's pissed that he has a disease that will most likely kill him? Pass.

*Sip, sip*

The bulk of these characters have so little redeeming qualities or any, I don't know, substance. Compton is just evil. Jay is just evil. Tran is a typical teenager. Luke is just a bitter idiot.

The one character I loved and I mean LOVED and was always so happy to see was Soren.

He was the best part of this book and it is because he was so different from the other characters. Soren never takes this "woe is me" standpoint like Luke and Tran but he is not evil like Compton and Jay. He is just a freaking fantastic person who tries to help everyone. When you are stuck reading about a bunch of characters who just complain or have such dark thoughts, that one ray of sunlight, that one character that is different than the others has such a gravitational pull.

*Sip, sip*

And Martin ruins it.

Soren and Luke. Oh, I almost rage quit. I was so close to rage quitting. Soren having feelings for Luke, no problem. Soren asking to sleep with Luke right after Luke abused him and confessed he is going to try to save his relationship with Tran ... what? Luke going through with it after just confessing to Soren that he is in love with Tran? The fuck?! Luke being into it even though he has never expressed any interest in Soren or ever alluded to the fact that he even finds Soren attractive? WHAT?!

Like, it is explicitly said I believe twice, maybe even three times in the book that Luke has a fetish for Asian boys---and Soren is white.

*Sip, sip. Sip, sip. Sip, sip.*

I think this book did more harm than good. All of the main characters are gay men, which is absolutely, one hundred percent perfectly fine. All of the main characters are overly sexual and just scramble all over each other. I am not judging people who enjoy the promiscuous lifestyle, who enjoy sharing themselves with others, and who just seek the gratification of pleasure. To each their own. But to overly sexualize your gay main characters on top of not providing them with much depth is just ... bad. It feeds into the stigma that all gay men are promiscuous and just sleeps with whoever and prey on younger, vulnerable boys.

*Sip, sip*

So ... was it good? The words were great! The imagery was spectacular. The vocabulary is top notch and the story itself had the potential to be excellent! But the plot is not carried by the characters. Give Luke something beyond bitterness and hopelessness, which, I'll admit, is alluded to in the end. But only for like 2 pages. Not enough for me. Give Tran something beyond "woe is me." Give Jay more than just stab, sex, and eat. Give Compton more than just sex, stab, maybe try a piece.

And my goodness, don't give your ray of sunshine character such desperation in their romantic affairs.

Gay people, like everyone in this world, be it straight or queer, have depth to them. That is just one piece of them. There is so much more that could have been explored with these characters. I wish we could have found it.

*Sip, sip*

And I think that goes for every queer character which is part of the reason why, as you can tell from my page, I love Hazbin Hotel. I love Alastor (ace). I love Angel Dust (gay). I love Charlie (bisexual). They have SO much depth to them. They have so much within them to explore and bring forward and it's not just about who they desire to have as a partner or lack thereof. I don't want writers or creators to just full on this "well, they're queer so they have depth" idea.

And I'll leave it with this. The Hazbin Hotel post-Season 1 finale Q&A.

Blake Roman who plays Angel Dust was asked what he considers to be Angel's greatest flaw and strength.

Roman replies that AD's flaw is he refuses to accept that he is in as horrible of a situation as he actually is and will make light of it and not let people in.

However, his strength is, well, his strength! "Once he does allow that wall to come down, he is a fierce friend. You know you've got him."

Oh! Depth!

And Amir Talai who plays Alastor is asked, "What are [Amir's] thoughts on being part of the ace-rep through Alastor [...]?"

Amir, who is not ace, wonderfully replies, "It means a lot to mean a lot. [...] If you're aro-ace, that doesn't mean you're lame. It just means that there is a part of you that is different from what is considered typical. [...] And people ask, 'How has that affected your portrayal of him so far?'. Well, it hasn't."

Jessica Vosk, who plays Lute, shortly after jumps in and tells Amir, "But it's kind of nice to hear you say that when you were asked whether or not it has informed you with what you do or how you changed it. You said it doesn't because it's not like that is why Alastor is ..."

Amir: "Right!"

*Sip, sip*

In essence, a character's queerness is part of them, yes. But it is not ALL of them. That is not just who they are and to diminish them to just that one aspect of them is incredibly belittling. One of the main issues I have with the production of queer entertainment, [for example, the new "Mary & George" series] is that it is overly sexual as if that is the only thing that queer people have to offer. No. Queer people live like anyone else. And depending on the queer person, some may even have very little to no sex at all! There is no reason to saturate queer material with sex. This book mentions the word "dick/cock" in a sexual (not insulting, but purely sexual way) nearly 100 times.

*Sip, sip*

If you can stomach some gory details, I'll recommend the book but I don't think it is a book that you should read before you die. It's a book with a lot of sex and swearing and some blood. So ... yeah.

Cheers.

*Sip, sip*

[trashcanplant]

Safe Travels, Scarecrow

Short Angsty writing based on what happens when the first snow falls and Grover leaves for the winter.

It was almost the end of autumn. Grover could feel it in his stuffed burlap body. He spent more time sitting on his fence, looking at his leather travel bag. He wondered how much time he had left before the winter would come bearing its frigid head, turning the air around him into ice. Grover hated the cold. He hated leaving.

“Grover!” Penny Peaches called out to him as she came running. She loved her scarecrow friend, only having met him in the late summer when he came rolling into town. Grover stood up with a smile. He looked tired, almost ready to hibernate. “Hey lil’ lady. How’re you doin’ today?” He asked as he forced his burlap into a soft grin. He crouched down to her level and ruffled her soft peachy hair.

“Grover, do you have any plans for the holidays?” She asked with a chuckle. He saw her shiver as a cool breeze nipped at her neck. Grover sighed, pulling his travel bag onto a fence post and taking out a long green scarf. He wrapped it around her neck in a brotherly fashion.

“Afraid not. My schedules as.. as free as a bird. But you know how I like birds.. always so flighty! Ya never know when they’re- uh.. gonna fly off. Am I right, Penn?” He asked with a sad chuckle. Penny didn’t seem to notice, just taking it as it came. She was always one to go with the flow.

“Then you should come to my house for Christmas! My Ma and Pa, and the Fruitbats, and Vince, and Poppy, and everyone are all gonna have a big dinner together!” She offered him, curling herself into his scarf. Grover’s straw eyebrows furrowed as he started to stroke his goatee. He wanted Penny to be smarter in this moment.

“Well, we’ll see what happens. You tell my cousin not to bring those pesky crows inside. Again. Although, Pen, you know how I am indoors. I get all cooped up! S’too cold to be outside anyway, and I sure as heck am not getting your nice floors dirty.” Grover said , trying to let her down easy. He knew it was going to snow before he even had a chance to fully accept or decline her invitation. He hoped Vince would explain that to her.

“Oh, Grover! Don’t worry, I’ll tell him! Thanks for the scarf!” Penny said, her attention quickly being pulled away as she heard Poppy’s distant clucks of distress. Grover stood still for a moment as he watched her run away. He turned his back on her, looking down at his travel bag full of raggedy clothes and his sewing supplies. His cloth heart ached. He didn’t want to let her down.

The next morning, Grover awoke on his fence to a small wet spot on his burlap face. Snowflakes. He knew what he had to do. He looked around in the darkness of the early morning. Nobody awake. It didn’t matter. They all knew it was coming. He’d just write an apology to everyone in his next letter to Barnaby. The scarecrow stood from his sleeping position and closed his travel bag. He then slid down the hill to the lake, looking out for where his assigned flock was resting. With a whistle and a few loud stops, the birds were scattered and in the air. He watched them in the pitch black, illuminated only by distant stars and a few stray snowflakes as they fell to the earth. Grover made his way to the edge of the forest. He couldn’t see home anymore. He hesitated before the annoying calls of his birds settling tore him away. There was no time to be sentimental. He was already late. If he didn’t hightail it, he’d miss his record and valuable daylight for walking.

“Hey, Gr- where’d he go?” Penny asked as they approached a small gathering of neighbors. Barnaby stood at the fence, looking down at the lake with Wally right beside him. Vince sat on the fence with Ritta and Gus circling overhead, but they weren’t upset. Marnie Maestro, a rarely seen neighbor stood there bundled in several layers. All of them were quiet and looking into the lake.

“Safe travels, scarecrow.” Barnaby mumbled as he lit his pipe. The iridescent smoke filled the air as he began to slowly walk away. Wally followed him in suite, quiet as he looked down at the ground. It didn’t really get into his head, but he still understood that Grover was gone.

“Vince, where’d Grover go?” Penny asked her other scarecrow friend. He simply took off his wide brimmed hat as a stray autumn leaf fell from inside.

“He had to leave. Does this every year, Penny. He just didn’t say goodbye this time…” He said with a solemn air in his voice. He knew that his cousin would be back. He always came back. Home was where his heart was.

“Is he okay?” Penny asked anxiously. She held the scarf Grover had given her yesterday around her neck. She felt the texture, the heavy wool making her sweat as snowdrops landed on her head. There was a deep pit in her stomach, close to her families namesake of being a stonefruit. She looked at the lake.

“Will he be back in time for Christmas..?” They asked quietly. Penny knew in her heart what the answer was, but she didn’t want to say it aloud. If she did, it would come true.

“I wish that was how it worked, sweetie. Grover just… he’ll be back in the autumn. It’ll be back to spooks, stories, and Grover before you know it.” Marnie approached from her position. She knew Grover the best and gently put a hand on Penny’s shoulder.

“He’ll be back eventually.” Marnie repeated firmly. He’ll be back eventually.