#He likes Mushrooms and Ghost Stories

[kakusu-shipping]

The Mario movie has gotten me obsessed with the Mario Extended Family and general Mario History, to the point that I made myself a Mario Cousin Self Insert

[mee-op]

Facts about in-game Yuu (Twisted Wonderland):

NOTES:

This is an ongoing list and will be updated with new information. I'm not caught up w/ chap 6 and I'm not very perceptive. This list is so long because of all the people who commented/sent asks, so thank you Last but not least, some of these might be a stretch/be slightly incorrect so bare w/ me plz :] More Yuu facts [ ONE / TWO ] <- not mine

They've been good friends with Heartslabyul ever since Book 1.

They're forgiving/don't hold any bad blood with the people who've overblotted (at least on the outside).

According to the Harveston event, they can play the flute.

They don't like mentioning that they might return to their world (Deuce's Wishing Star vignette).

Many people consider them a "goody-two-shoes" (Leona, Ruggie).

A good listener.

Based on Malleus' interactions with them, Yuu talks to him a lot more off-screen as he states that he values their opinions.

Loves Grim to hell and back.

It's implied that Yuu invites Malleus over frequently enough that he visits unprompted.

They can be snarky and brutally honest when they're pushed into it.

Comes up with stupid plans that nobody believes will work but it somehow does.

They're insecure about not having any magic.

They want to be able to help their friends.

Has a sense of self-preservation.

Does not actively seek out danger (*cough* om mc *cough*).

They've cleaned up Ramshackle since living there, however, it still looks "abandoned & ancient" on the outside.

Crowley doesn't give them more money than "needed".

Silver states that Yuu is good with swords (PE Uniform).

Both Jamil and Silver seem to think that Yuu is somewhat weird/strange.

They don't know much about mushrooms (Floyd's Camp Vargas vignette).

They're very patient.

Used to be afraid of ghosts until they got to Twisted Wonderland.

They adapt to new/difficult situations quickly and calmly.

They don't complain much.

Very much so the silent type.

The audience doesn't really see anyone helping them out with their situation, so I assume they fix most of their problems themselves.

They don't have any memories of the Great Seven before coming to Twisted Wonderland.

Fluctuates between being observant and not noticing really basic stuff.

Doesn't hesitate to say cheesy things.

Keeps calm in harsh situations.

They know how to play a blowing horn (White Rabbit Event).

Good with instruments.

Not a very good singer (NRC Uniform).

It's implied that they have high stamina.

They're interested in horseback riding and wants to play soccer with Sebek (PE Uniform).

They recommend a few books to Sebek, implying that they read in their free time.

They're short in comparison to Floyd (he calls them Shrimpy).

Grim comments that they're shorter than Vil.

Crowley mumbles that Yuu looks effeminate.

They're a bit of a romantic since they seem to often ask about love stories/fairy tales (Epel & Jade chats).

They have a habit of poking, tugging, tickling and just touching people in general. This is proven through the Home Screen character interactions, so their love language seems to be physical touch.

They get scared easily but is bad at scaring others (Halloween voice lines).

Vil notes that their uniform is baggy.

Malleus says that Yuu has gotten better at dancing (Masquerade Event).

It's implied that Yuu is good/decent at cooking since they have to make meals for both themself and Grim every day.

Yuu is decent at basketball (Ace Halloween).

Deuce remarks about a tiny piece of furniture in Ramshackle and asks if it's for Grim, meaning Yuu makes small furniture for him.

They're a good photographer.

Takes part in photography competitions (Rook Port Fest).

It's implied that Yuu carries their ghost camera everywhere because Crowley constantly makes them record events.

It's said that the game cards are actual photos that Yuu took with the ghost camera. [I don't know if this is true but a lot of people have said so]

Most, if not all the characters tell Yuu to hurry up when choosing a class, which suggests that they're indecisive.

Ace, Deuce and Cater tell Yuu to relax during classes or else they'll run out of energy.

Jack says that he got tips from Yuu while he was working in Monstro Lounge, implying that Yuu might've worked in customer service before (Book 3).

According to Grim, they have a hard time saying no to people, but when they absolutely need to-- they're very serious and a bit intimidating. "You're a real sap sometimes, you know that? Then again, when you bare your teeth it's no joke."

While they won't say no to helping others, they prefer to keep to themselves and avoid drama.

Yuu is sometimes a bit distrustful of Ace and thinks he's tricking them if he offers to do anything nice (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

It doesn't take much to make them happy. (Deuce & Idia 2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

They became nervous when Riddle invited them to a salon for their birthday. Riddle response saying "I'll be right there with you, and will instruct you in etiquette every step of the way."

They're competitive in class-- at least when it comes to Jack (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

They took chess lessons to try and beat Leona in a match (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

For their birthday, Yuu asks Azul to get something that's supposedly hard for an average collector to acquire.

They're surprised when Kalim gifts them a pop-up card for their birthday.

They own a pair of fingerless gloves (gifted by Epel).

They personally invited Vil over for their birthday party and made sure to have healthy food options for him.

Not very close with Idia.

Owns a glass tumbler that reads 'Happy Birthday!' (gifted by Ortho).

Lilia gives them a CD with his screamo performances.

They were gifted so many presents on their birthday that they had trouble carrying the gifts around. (Malleus 2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

[fullfriendnerdclutch]

The story originally created by @captainmalewriter and you can find the link in this continuation post by @permanentswaps

You Will Possess Me Pt. 3

Still laying in bed with his post-nut afterglow after flooding Yosef's hole, Mauro decided to clean himself a bit before trying to get his much-needed rest before his night shift at the club

"Don't you want to shower?" asked Mauro as he stands up while Yosef plopped himself back to bed after a quick client call that interrupted his post-nut recharge

"You go first, I'll join you later," Yosef said with a rather malicious smirk that Mauro failed to see as he already turned his back and headed to the bathroom

So, Mauro opened the bathroom door of his apartment and a gust of chilling wind welcomed him. Well, it's just finished raining outside so this might just be a sunset breeze or something, he thought to himself as he stepped in and get himself ready by taking off his sex-stained wifebeater. But when the wind blows started to get icy as the door closes, Mauro started to get real suspicious. Before he can walk back out, a shivering sensation crept through his asshole that caused him to yelp. It's like as if something is possessing him! He groaned in pain as his body slammed the door in surprise, the sharp pain reaches his prostate and even beyond and practically sent him to a state of trembling shock. Rather than subsides, it really jabbed further and in his desperate bid to save himself, he screamed for help to his recent fuck-buddy as he exited the bathroom crawling for help

Yet, when Yosef appeared in the hallway leading to the bathroom witnessing the splayed and pale body of the Latino hunk that just bred him earlier, he just smirked before kneeling himself so he can get closer to Mauro's writhing face

"Oh, I see that he's in your stomach now Maybe stop resisting and just let him in to take full control, that will definitely make the pain go away much quicker,"

Mauro just gritted his teeth, holding on the pleasurable pain as these ectoplasm seemingly hit all the right spot inside of his body but it still feels like he's ripped away from his body, his eyes darting the most sinister look to the grinning Yosef

"The guy squirming inside of you, he's a small man, but his will is so big, this is a losing game for you, Mauro. Plus, he can definitely wear this thick beer can of a cock of yours better. You are not the best custodian of this meaty dick, you know? Hhhh....I'm bored to see you resisting so--" and just like that, Yosef grabbed Mauro's throat to choke him. Mauro went into a full-body seizure as Yosef practically caused him to lose his breath. That also helped the ghost to reach even deeper into Mauro's psyche. Snapping his head left and right trying to wriggle himself free proven to be futile as Yosef straddled himself on top of him to make the choking and pressure even more effective. When Mauro's body violently spasmed from head to toe and his eyes started to roll back to reveal its white sides, the painful groan quickly switched to echoing deep laughter as his eyes snapped back to normal but there's this sinister twinkle that now shines from his eyes.

The takeover is complete. Realizing the position they ended up with, Yosef grinned as he comfortably slid his still-rather-loose hole to swallow the mushroom head of Mauro's cock. Mauro, no longer in control of himself, can only witness his possessor returning Yosef's horniness by sliding even more inches into the horny and possessed ghost whisperer's hole

"You are one crazy motherfucker, you know?" remarked the possessed Mauro, "honestly, still baffled me how a ghost whisperer/exorcist can fall victim to the very thing that they should be able to control,"

"Well, I'm an elusive and very determined spirit, after all," the possessed Yosef said, lying through his gritted teeth on how he actually managed to overtake Yosef's body, "uuunnghhh.....and now, let's seal you in. You can hear him inside you?"

"Yeah, he's here, weak and imprisoned with no ability to do anything except to witness....ungggh....me....fucking....the...shit.....mmmpphhh...out of you,"

"Let's get rid of that noise once and for all then," With a wicked grin, Mauro lifted Yosef to the couch and then proceed to ruthlessly pistoned his veiny brown 8 inchers into Yosef's fitting hole. Both men simply groaned and satisfied their flooding lust through kisses, spits and screams of ecstasy. When Mauro started to convulse as he is close to spurt, Yosef stopped himself short to slide himself back to Mauro's cock. Instead, he delayed Mauro from fulfilling his gratifying lust by grabbing the pulsing meat with his fist. Mauro roared in frustration and tried to force his way to get back to plow Yosef's ass, but Yosef just pinned the horny beast on the floor with his ass hovering mid-air

"Trust me, the best ones cum in waves," Yosef said, pun intended.

As the cock softened and several mililitre of leakage flows out gently to make his mushroom head slick with pre, Yosef comfortably slide himself down once more to the quickly-erect cock which caused Mauro's eyes fluttered in delight. Yosef then decided to stop playing around and slowly bring Mauro to the finish line as he ensured to clench his hole tight. Feeling his new dick getting clenched by his fuckbuddy's boypussy once more, Mauro then decided to take the matter into his own hands by grabbing Yosef's waist and keeping it in place. Yosef, alarmed by the gravity of the brutal fucking Mauro is capable off, flushed with worry as he found himself locked in place. He tried to break free and moaned like a whore as Mauro's cock hit close to his G-spot

"MMMFFFFUUUCKKKK YOU, DON'T YOU DARE GETTING OUT AGAIN NOW," Mauro threatened with a sadistic glee as he can feel that he's close to cumming

Yosef writhed in pain and delight knowing that this one will be one heck of a huge blast. But even before Mauro shot his load, Yosef already spurted like a geyser, his cock untouched but it's shooting cum all over his own torso, Mauro's and even the cushion cover and the mirror behind Mauro's head. It's one heck of a mess, followed by another mess as Mauro eventually released his tremendous load as it flows out from Yosef's gaping hole and stained the cushion beneath their bodies. Alongside the flowing cum, the real Mauro's soul also expelled from his own body and joining the same fate with the real Yosef, it simply fades into irrelevancy as the soul is not necessarily a soul that can move on to the after life but also at the same time having no vessels to claim as home, making it weaker as the time progresses unless he managed to find a body weak enough to be beaten by his soul.

The ghost inside Mauro just chuckled "Ck....he's gone. Phew.....fuck....again, I don't know how the fuck you found out about this whole....breed and freed scheme or whatever you name this, or how you basically manage to utilize his power for our kind's benefit, but this is brilliant. And....hmmmmm, I have a few friends that are eager to get back to live life once more, do you think we can work together to help them? I bet there's a lot of hot guys willing to get involved in a threesome with Mauro and Yosef over here, don't you think?"

Yosef just smiled. That actually sounds like a good plan, a possible thriving business enterprise if he wants to put in some work. But at this point, he's just trying to live in the moment and cherished the opportunity of getting back alive and having his back blown by hot guys that his old life could only dream of. All thanks to that fucking broken cock ring

[squiddy-god]

A confession to a fae

(Lilia vanrouge x reader)

Re-upload from terminated blog squid-god-supreme, this is in a similar style to captured, basically, this is more general Lilia leaning, long hair Lilia supremacy

CW : nothing much, reader is low key down bad, kinda stalking? Watching from afar? "My most cherished one"

1.5k

Who was he? That mysterious man who walked the stone path of your small cottage in the dead of night? He who stalks the trees and befriends all creatures of the night. Who is he, you wonder? 

He whose eyes glow crimson and whose pupils are not but slender slits of pitch black. You wondered who he was as you glanced with blurred vision and bated breath out the window to catch only a glimpse. 

The thought and curiosity plagued you and you worked in your garden, soft soil giving way as you dug and pulled weeds, harvested the plants you grew. The tall trees cast dancing shadows but let light flicker through, it was calm, peaceful. "Hello there my dear" you jumped and looking up there was now a figure in front of you, Dressed in a long robe the deep set hood concealed his face. He was tall, not unreasonably so but enough to make note of, he leaned only slightly against the stone wall separating the two of you. Covered in moss and discolored from years of the forest encroaching on pale stone it only came up to about waist height. He let out a chuckle at your alarm "do not fret little one, I mean no harm to you" "o-oh well 'morning" 

That was how it all began, the mysterious man showing up by that garden wall to chat, the lovely weather, the kingdom of which you hail, and the woods that you call home. He had the most pleasant stories, of dragons and swords clashing, of night walks with ghosts and of history long passed, from dusk till dawn in bliss you were held captive by the words he spoke as you tended your garden. 

"Ah drats!" You mumbled as you searched for the jar of wild herbs and mushrooms you needed, only to realize that you had run out. "Fine I suppose I'll go get more" you sighed, lacing your boots and grabbing the shallow basket you used for things like this, with that you headed off. 

Deep now in the forest and basket weighed with herbs and edible mushrooms, a few berries, and flowers you could grow you felt a cold touch on your hand. 

Stumbling back the basket landed after you, miraculously nothing split as it contacted the ground. "Apologies my dear" the cold touch was back, now in front of you kneeled the man who leaned against your garden wall, his pale hand grasping yours as it was lifted to his lips. 

Were his footsteps like rain? Silent and peaceful, you wondered as the sunlight danced with shadows if this man was the same who stalked the night with such luster. If he who held your hand in tender reverence was he who walked the path of your cottage before the sun kissed the sky. 

"It's alright, you just startled me haha" you got up, watching as he rose up, his cloak fell to conceal his ivory and alabaster pants and cuffed black leather boots. "I come here often, this tree is quite nice, perhaps I'll no longer be the only one who visits?" He extended his hand, nails sharp and pitch black. "Is that an invitation?" You took his hand. 

"Fufufu of course my dear" 

This man who you were so enraptured by was a constant question in your brain, so it was no shock that as you awoke and lit your lantern you spotted from that window by the bed, a figure dancing through the trees and got up. Heading to the kitchen then to the stone wall by the garden you left a bowl of tomato soup you had made earlier and heated up by fire. 

As morning breathed life to day you awoke again and went out to your garden, there against the wall with his back turned was the man.His vest a polished pine green embroidered with blush pink thread showing ferns and snapdragons, red dahlias and columbine flowers. The short half cape that rested on his shoulder and draped over one of his alabaster sleeves was dark slate gray and lined with silver. “Hello again sir” you greeted him like any other day and he turned to you with a fond smile. He was handsome, his striking blood red eyes set against the pale white skin and the slight dark tint to his eyes and lips. His hair was long and black, with streaks of pink and the underside bright fuchsia. His appearance was striking, especially his smile and the fangs that peaked out. “Good morning my dear, thank you for the gift you left me on the evening of last” you smiled, proud of the work you put into that soup and glad he enjoyed it. “I can't let a gift go unpaid, so before the sun bids my farewell would you invite me to repay your generosity?” “you don't have to, but if you insist!”.

Just like that he lept over our stone garden wall, his black boots lifting him up before hitting the cobblestone path. A cold hand to yours and before you knew it you were spinning, his hand at your waist and the other holding your hand. “My gift to you today is a dance through dawn.” no rhythm played in the air yet as you danced in his embrace the world seemed to be alight with beautiful melodies, his eyes held stories that ruptured your heart and made your feet sway effortlessly with his.

You wondered if this man was human, he who stalks the trees, he who dances to no music yet keeps rhythm, he who leans over the garden wall. They say you should not dance with the fae, for once you do it’ll never be the same without, you wondered if that was what he is, if his eyes hold more than lonely longing affection but his gaze always seems to silence these thoughts. 

He was beyond the garden wall now, no longer the mysterious figure but the charming man, he sat under the tree in your garden and told you stories now, occasionally he would play tunes on his bagpipe and you would dance and clap in tune when not tending your garden. He often brought flowers, lovely flowers that you had never seen, ones that never wilted and ones that bloomed in the dead of night. He also brought honeyd words and sweet glances, saying he was once lonely but had found you. The man spoke of magic and mages, you had confessed that you had no magic like others and that this was the reason you moved out to the forest. He showed you magic as you danced, the sparkling of light that spun and twirled around the air as his appearance changed before your eyes, and as yours morphed to match his own.

“I spend so much time with you now,” you pondered shifting and turning towards him “yet i don't know your name” his breath seemed to pause, a dead calm and for a moment you wondered if you had messed up. “Fufufu my my what a question to ask me, you who walk beyond thorns have not a clue what power a name holds” his answer confused you, the power a name holds? “But, you are indeed my most cherished one, so perhaps I will tell you” how he adored the way your eyes gleamed at the words he spoke. “First you must follow me cherished one~” he was up in a second and you followed.

Soon you looked down to see a stone path, the trees grew more dense and you realized you had never been this deep into the forest before. “Sir- uh my love?” “Yes darling?” Even with golden light trickling through dense leaves his eyes almost glowed the most brilliant red. “Where…are we going?” he laughed. “Fufu you will see soon enough. 

You walked deeper and deeper until only sparse light flooded in small beams and nature had entirely consumed the land, remnants of castles long taken by lakes and claimed by the forest. Even the path you realized had disappeared some time ago, your only guide was the man in front of you. The almost silent sound of his steps stopped and you ran into his back, soft fabric cushioning your blow. “H-huh?” before you in the dim lighting was what looked to be a wall of trees and thorny vine, they twisted and curved suspiciously to form a perfect circle. It was lighter on the other side but almost the same, except for the cobblestone path that emerged covered in moss. 

“This my dear, is the price for such power over me.” he stepped through and nothing seemed to happen. “Simply follow me, til the end of eternity” and before your eyes he vanished. Your eyes were wide as saucers as you stood before the circle gateway. “Alright” you said more to the memory of his figure, one foot after the other onto the other side. 

Now you stand, in a small clearing, the circle arch long gone as your feet touch the cool stone. Chilling arms and soft linen fabric wrapped around you as the ghost of a breath blew gently against your ear.

“Lillia, lillia vanrouge~” 

[simp4konig]

Halloweens with König headcannons 🎃🍂

Gender-neutral Reader

*Slow burn

Word Count: ~3246

*FLUFFFFFFF😿😿💖✨🩷🩷💘

*Soft König☺️ (but also König is a smug bastard + asshole 🙄), Established relationship, Single mention of (ambiguous) age gap 😮‍💨

🧡Happy Halloween guys!!🧡 I don't celebrate Halloween myself , but im feeling 😈in the mood😈 so i hopw this can suffice for this ooky kooky spooky season 😰😰

Gos i wanna kms ive veen so uninspirws AAAHAHAHAHDHDHDDH this is literslly. Me rn--->💥💥💥💥💥🙂🔫 fuckijg FINALLT GOT sometjing OUT 🥳🥳 rest asusred iwont kms i need to finish my rqs first ☺️💖💖✨ i will feel SO euphoric when all the WIPS will become Completed Works !! 😍😍Im just gonna not post until i gdt smth donw bci hate giving false promises its the same as lyijg,🗿🗿

Tag List ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @abysslovesyou ♡ @puff0o0 ☆ @rustic-guitar-notes ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @reyner-lee ☆ @lotionlamp ♡ @trepaika ☆ @luci4theminorannoyance

...

König wasn't really one for Halloween.

Hadn't ever been, really, as he hadn't been raised to celebrate it.

In his household, he hadn't had much exposure to the Western "Hallow's Eve".

Besides, even if he was familiar with the tradition, his parents didn't bother celebrating those kinds of trivialities; after all, they certainly weren't going to bother wasting hard-earned money on trifles like pumpkins, just so they'd rot on the front porch, or candy that would rot your teeth, or on vulgar masks that depicted serial killers and monsters, too blasphemous to bear.

Plus, his neighbourhood didn't partake in "Trick-or-treat'ing" at all, and wouldn't leave any candy for any children — wouldn't do anything, really.

Nobody decorated their house with ghouls and ghosts, nobody dressed up as vampires or murderers, nobody jumped from behind corners to shout "Boo!".

None of that, as these ideas were childish. Infantile. Juvenile, even.

Thus, October 31st, König's Austrian villiage was quiet. So eerily quiet you'd had thought it was a ghost town had it not been for hundreds of cloaked figures in the cemetary — as, for König, "Halloween" tended to be a more sombre occasion in comparison to the American/English versions.

Instead of running around and knocking on people's doors with a broad, lopsided smile like other children ought, he was brought along to visit the graves of his family members: graves of his ancestors, which he'd be told about in detail, details of the person buried six feet under the stone slab; information and stories passed down from generations.

He would be taught to honour those deceased in his family and respect their memory, to remember those in the afterlife and what they sacrificed to get there.

Carrying a lamp, he'd light candles on those decrepit gravestones, text faded and illegible, while his parents left boquets of flowers, and pulled up their long black cloaks. Silently paying their respects.

While it wasn't necessarily a day of mourning — König never needed tissues to wipe any tears or blow his nose, and neither did anyone else in the family — it was far graver when compared to the Halloween holidays elsewhere.

However, König's memories of Halloween were few, far, and in-between.

Whenever he'd hear of other people's experiences, he was never nostalgic, as, the times that he did attend those familial ceremonies he was either too young to understand what was happening, or knew too little of the deceased[s] in question to be moved by the heavy atmosphere.

Not only that, but the time period was overwhelmingly solemn, with people flooding the burial grounds, some murmuring prayers, others with tears in their eyes.

There was no laughter, no treats, no fun costumes. Not even tricks. Just suffocating depression all around.

So, he didn't really associate the celebration with something to celebrate: what, celebrating the deaths of your family? That was quite morbid, when he thought about it, and he wasn't going to dedicate an entire month every year to remind himself of death with so many other operators around him falling on the battlefield, and having had faced the grim reaper himself several times already.

Hence, every 31st of October, he did nothing. Didn't acknowledge it at all.

But all that changed one fateful day in September. When he finally acknowledged it, all right (with a little of your help of course)!

You had asked König in passing if he had considered dressing up as something for Halloween. Maybe what he had considered doing on the evening. Or if he had plans to attend the autumn fair sometime soon.

His response? A blank look. Distant recognition.

For a quiet moment, you thought he was scowling at you, silently ridiculing your childish suggestion.

Then: "Halloween? Ah!" An amused chuckle, endeared by the child-like curiosity in your eyes, and a silent sigh of relief from you.

"I don't celebrate it, myself, meine liebe. But you're welcome to tell me what your costume is. I'd love to hear all about it, maus."

Mortified by this revelation, you couldn't let this go.

"What do you mean you "don't celebrate it"? You have got to be joking!"

Wide eyes, and jaw agape, you were in disbelief.

He simply shook his head with a strained smile. "I've just never seen it as something to celebrate, you know? No reason to."

Taking it upon yourself to prove him wrong, you wasted no time converting this skeptic into a believer. "Oh no, there is. I mean, it's Halloween! Everyone is crazy for it!"

Suddenly, your eyes lit up. A wave of adrenaline crashing into you, you tugged König's arm in direction of the couch.

"That's where we'll start! We're gonna watch Halloween! That'll surely get you in the spirit."

You winked at him, satisfied. Then, a sudden snort and a suppressed chortle, hand cupped over your mouth as you laughed at your pathetic attempt at a joke.

König cocked his head to the side in confusion, but let you hastily scramble for blankets, pillows, and to microwave bowls of popcorn, as he made himself comfortable on the couch cushions that sank in protest under his weight.

Initially, he was reluctant. Not necessarily looking forward to being forced to watch movies from the 80s–00s, over-the-top movies with subpar acting, to say that he was looking forward to it would have been a stretch.

However, seeing how passionate you were about the holiday, your interests, König didn't want your sweetness sour.

Yes, he was a little older than you, and perhaps didn't grasp what there was to fuss over, but he wasn't about to spoil your good mood, or dampen that excitement just because he didn't personally understand or was interested personally. He wanted to make an effort, for you.

Vowing to take part in your silly shenanigans, he swore to become involved in the festivities in order to see you smile. To keep seeing you smiling.

After that, every October evening you'd watch a movie — a (usually) corny horror classic, though spending most nights binging all the Screams, Halloweens, Chuckys, The Shinings, Saws, and Evil Deads, — huddled under moutains of blankets and stuffing your faces with toffee-flavoured popcorn.

Watching horror films with him was like being lectured on common-sense and taught self-defence lessons in real time, though. Not like you minded, but it really got rid of the edge and the tension in its entirety.

Instead of paying attention to the storyline, it's more likely König would catch on to the stupid decisions the characters and the shitty attempts to fight back, and he wouldn't be able to help commenting:

"Why did she leave the knife in him? In his abdomen, of all places? Now the murderer has a weapon! Should have taken it out and left him to bleed out. But noooo, nein, leave the knife there."

"Going into the forest on his own? In the night? With a killer on the loose? Mein Gott, he is such a dummkopf! Bring a friend, why don't you?"

"Liebling, why is there so much gore? Isn't this rated "15"? Wait, and why is there a lady with no shirt? This is supposed to be scary, ja? I'm very scared. Scared you'll slap me, actually, if I don't keep looking at my lap."

Angrily ranting at the television, you'd gently reassure him, that, "Sweetie, this is fiction. Sometimes, the scenes are unrealistic." "But it said "based on real events"! I swear, liebling, if I watch another ten minutes of this I'll have a headache. I can't comprehend the stupidness."

Tough crowd, that couldn't really immerse himself in the plot, but you took a note or two for the sorts of horror movies König wouldn't dislike.

Although he insulted all the characters for being stupid and ridiculed all the characters for being so brainless, he would begrudgingly admit that he enjoyed the movie, pointing out some of his favourite scenes.

Self-aware comedic slashers meant he could suspend disbelief and laugh out loud a little, while, movies with an omnipotent monster meant he couldn't criticise any inaccuracies. He didn't winge at those as much in comparison to major blockbuster films. In fact, he even preferred low budget movies, ones that were pure comedic relief and so self-aware that he wouldn't be able to help but laugh along, unable to hide his amusement.

Afterwards, at exactly midnight, you'd be huddled together in the dark under a thick blanket, gorging your mouth with sugary sweets and bite-size chocolates (also indulging in chocolates that were far from bite-size), giggling like lunatics (well, that was mostly you, but König joined in to keep you company).

Later, face serious, with a torch under your chin, you'd be whispering hushedly with a tone of foreboding, voice low, and words ominous:

"Drip. Drip. Dripping water. She had checked the bathroom taps, the kitchen taps, and they were twisted tightly closed. A leakage, perhaps? Or, perhaps, something else. As she roamed the corridor, the drip-drip-drip of liquid grew louder. And louder—"

"Ah, she should call her plumber, then, shouldn't she?" A sure shit-eating smirk that was obscured by his mask, but the way his eyes were squinting you knew he was taking the piss.

Of course, storytelling was not as haunting as you would have had liked it to be: König would interject, interrupting the aura of mystery and the medatitive atmosphere, with sarcastic remarks. It made the narrations really melodramatic in the end, and frustrated you to no end.

Still, you would groan, and, undaunted by his immature antics — as, mind you, this was a grown-ass man, a 6'10 wall of muscle messing around like this, teasing you not like the cocky Colonel he was but a snarky teenage boy — continue:

"—she walked on — despite having been rudely interrupted moments prior — and her heart sank. Blood. A puddle of it, on the floor, looking like gallons upon gallons of it had—"

"Maybe she was — ah, what's the word?" A thoughtful pause, hand where his chin was under the fabric "— menustrating? Was she wearing white pants, maybe?"

"—Menstruating, König — and stop ruining my horror narration! Now I've lost the plot! Okay — against her will, her eyes moved up the wall, following the dripping blood. To her horror, it was coming from the attic. Swallowing the heavy lump in her throat, she pulled open the hatch with jittering fingers, grip slackened by the warm sweat on her palms, knees threatening to buckle. And, when the trap door released, she gasped. Blood draining her face, she saw—"

An exaggerated gasp from König, as he clasped his hands over his mouth in mock shock. "She— she saw— your mother! Mein Gott, the horror!"

"Shut up, König!" An annoyed huff, and shuffling away. "Honestly, you're such a killjoy..."

König, scooping you into his arms when you turned around with crossed arms, pouting lips, and furrowed brows, nuzzed his masked face into your neck, chuckling heartily. You squirmed under his hold, fabric tickling your sensitive neck, and you'd desperately hold back your giggles, trying hard to keep a straight face.

"Ja, ja, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Es tut mir leid, meine Liebe. Please keep going. What did she find in the attic?"

"No! You made me forget the grand reveal, now! I forgot what was up there, anyways..."

Walking around the house, you'd have the fright of your life when a huge shadow would jump in front of you at odd hours of the day.

"Boo!" König's voice resounded, loud and reverberating.

And you screamed, damn near verging on a heart attack.

"Shoving" him in frustration — you became actually even more frustrated when the man was like a solid wall and did not even budge a millimetre — König was quick to console you.

Doting over you, a wide smile on his face that the mask couldn't hide, he would be so overly lovey-dovey with you in an attempt to win back your affection that you'd roll yours eyes so far they'd end up in the back of your head.

"Meine liebe, I'm sorry for scaring you. I couldn't resist. You'll forgive me, won't you? You will, right? Please say yes."

You insisted you would, seemingly unassuming, then schemed to startle him at odd hours of the night as payback for losing your dignity in that moment.

At one point, you had even waited half an hour in the wardrobe while he was showering, only to jump out and see König in only a towel.

Yeah, you were the one that got jumpscared instead, face erupting in red despite you two being together for months at that point. You gave up trying to spook him then, bitterly accepting defeat.

Though, going along with your silly little activities, like going shopping for Halloween decorations, made König's heart swell seeing you bounce around excitedly and point out all the ornaments.

He didn't quite consent to you buying a life-size skeleton to call him Greg and place him in your shared bedroom. That was one step too far.

Still, seeing the wonder on your face, in awe of all the masks, costumes, decorations, and animated mannequins that'd cackle after triggering their mechanisms made his steel-blue eyes soften, melting into pure love and devotion for you.

So, to humour you one day, and to lift your mood after scaring you that one morning, König made two eye-holes in a white blanket, running after you around the house, almost tripping over it in his haste.

"Ooooo-ooo!" he moaned in over-dramatised agony, voice low yet playful. "This is not König, but his ghooost! Run, liebling, or you'll be neeext!"

Hearing him say that in his Austrian accent was so hilarious that were tears running down your cheeks from how hard you'd be laughing, and your sides splitting with the laughter, struggling scramble away, giggling.

Those moans of agony would become genuine cries in pain when he'd accidently hit his head on the doorframe when he forgot to duck in his excitement. The one time that bulky helmet of his could have come to use.

Despite all that, you'd be cornered against the wall, with nowhere to run, and König would pounce, tickling your sides viciously.

That broad smile on your face and the expression was worth fooling around and making a fool of himself.

He even didn't mind having you coo over his "injury" just like how he had when he was doting over you, because he loved you so much.

And, he loved you so much, that he even allowed you to "decorate" his gear. "To make it appropriate for the spooky season!" you had insisted, and he'd comply, not wanting to dull that sparkle in your eyes.

So contented with painting an intricate monster on his mask with fluorescent orange paint, you didn't notice König watching you hunched over the desk from behind, leaning against the doorframe with a loving smile on his face.

You hadn't expected that he'd wear that gear on base — veil, knee pads, helmet, and all — strutting his stuff. Just to remind everyone that their Colonel had a lovely spouse back home.

What you hadn't anticipated was how quickly König would start enjoying the season. Unexpectedly, he became obsessed with Halloween — his favourite tradition, second only to Christmas.

Carveling hollowed-out pumpkins of all shapes and sizes was one of his favourite past-times.

You'd think that with his size he'd struggle to cut through the orange crust without crushing it into pumpkin-coloured mush in his fists, but you'd be forgetting that he was skilled with a knife.

That said, König wasn't artistic. At all. The best he could produce would be a lopsided smiling caricature of... something. A nondescript creature, which you had complimented him on being so cute, only for him to angrily insist that it was an evil monster, and not cute at all.

Still, you would snap a picture before he could object, and give this pumpkin the spotlight on your front porch, soon many more following suit. Jack'o'lanterns illuminating your front step, glowing gold.

The sweet scent of cinnamon, ginger, and vanilla extract filled your house, new freshly-baked treats from the oven laid out on the kitchen island daily.

Delicious aroma of sugary pastry, homemade banana bread with small hints of vanilla and sprinkled with icing sugar, candied oranges and sour, sherbet lemon cakes, crunchy cinnamon sugar pumpkin seeds ("Made from the pumpkin guts!" you exclaimed with a smile of pride, König's eyes smiling in delight of your enthusiasm).

Crumbly shortbread in the shape skulls and bats, round cookies with orange and black icing resembling pumpkins, sponge cakes that oozed thick raspberry and strawberry jam when you bit into them ("Because they were bleeding blood," you proclaimed, a devilish smirk on your face — or, something like it, as to König you were the cutest angel he'd had ever been blessed to be around), and so, so, so much more.

So much that your weekly trips to the supermarket became biweekly, until you two found yourselves stocking up on sugar, flour, eggs, and butter far too often to keep track of.

The house was so inviting, especially to little ones from the neighbourd, that their mouths were agape and their eyes sparkled as they passed your "haunted house", holding the hands of their parent(s).

Mentioned in an earlier post that König has a soft spot for children, he'd stock up on Halloween candy and treats, and lug bucketfuls of sweets on the doorstep for any little ones that'd knock on your door to cheerfully cry out in unison, full of glee: "Trick or treat!"

He'd welcome them with open arms, but, with most of them being so little, they'd point with bulging eyes the giant on the doorstep, to be harshly reprimanded by their mothers and fathers for their ignorance and rudeness.

Few would say much after seeing König the giant, and after daring to scoop a handful of confectionary, bowing their heads and avoiding his eyes would mumble a shaky "...Th-thank you, s-sir—!"

One of them, however — a little girl with rosy cheeks donning white stockings and a gold tinsel halo — beamed brightly, albeit shyly, at König, thanking him for the treat and his generosity. An innocent, toothy smile that made her squint from how high it reached her eyes, her front baby teeth missing.

When she had her back turned to you two, she ran as fast as her chubby little legs could take her, and exclaimed, "Mommy! Mommy! That giant is a big and friendly one! A big, friendly giant. Can we go again, please? Please?"

It was only when you nudged König with your elbow, grinning, when she had skipped happily away, that he had realised he had tears in his eyes.

Moreover, maybe the memories König had of Halloween weren't so cheerful, or ones even worth remembering in the first place; after all, his childhood wasn't so cheerful. Joyless, and with little life.

But, with the way that Halloween was shaping up to be, he was already looking forward to the special celebration.

So full of life the you two were, you would laugh at the irony — animated and living the dream, while celebrating the day of the day. It brought you two to more laughter.

And, with you, König could make new ones, ones that you'd look back on fondly years from now, and those grueling months on deployment.

...

Note: Went off experience here for the beginning, guys🫡🫡 for the mowt part i have never celebrated Halloween😰 only a couple times in Poland, and once in England when i drank tomato juice and prwtended it was blood and i was a vampire🤪,

, but I Googled "Halloween in Austria" /Germany" to clarify whether I wasn't just speaking outta my ass and König here would have celebrated it differently to how I had in Poland 💀cuz, yknow, im not egocentric ajd the world doesnt celebrate things the same way Poles do 😘...

...And, no, I wasn't !☺️✨✨(... sort of😅... As far as I know, Germany has adopted the West's Halloween, ans theres pumpkin carving competitiomsn stuff, while Austria does indeed celebrate it slightly differently) .

Because I have no fuckijg idea of König's nationaloty anymore as it KEEOS CHANGING, I got the vest of both worlds 🥲🥲

Also been really busy guys😰😰😰by busy i mean stressing out ovee not writing then proceeding to NOT write bc im stressed❤️❤️🥰 you know jow it is!! 🤗(🔫) its ok tjo❤️(no it isnt) ill work tjis oit somejow🥹(no i wont im gonna kms) 🥰🥰

Have a very spooky halloween guys<3Feel bad foe those that are buying candy bc not onky is it smallwe than last uear but its more expensive 💔😟

[vomitspit2]

went to the doctor and came back with the test results on jade leech. (headcanons/exploration from canon)

1. doesn’t like strong scents and stays away from most colognes/perfumes. if he is going out to a certain high-quality function, he might wear body mists or perfume oils to give off a certain air of maturity. finds anything heavier than those two alternatives gives him a migraine. a book that would interest yet disgust him is perfume: the story of a murder by patrick süskind.

1.2. despite the constant ‘i must cut off my nose if i smell anything stronger than a candle’ feeling he carries with him, he really does enjoy the plain smell of his loved ones. just a whiff of floyd or azul’s sweat and his own tension melts away. would bury his nose in their neck throughout the day for a quick refresher if he wasn’t so guarded around the public’s eye.

2. picked up his potionology expertise from azul. when they were kids, they often brewed potions together to give certain ‘poor unfortunate souls’ their end of the bargain when azul’s UM was still underdeveloped. azul was always a little bitter his potions never turned out as flawless as jade’s and jade is aware of this sentiment.

3. is known to take strolls around campus after hours and often finds himself caught in conversation with the ghosts in the portraits. during the daytime, jade will exchange a few pleasantries with them — which does not make sense to azul or floyd because he’s never interacted with them before?? how are they on such good terms?? jade likes to keep them both in the dark for how the relationship between him and the portrait ghosts was fostered.

3.2. speaking on his strolls, jade often spies malleus doing the same thing yet has yet to make conversation with the young prince. it is not out of fear but rather respect for knowing when one is enjoying their peace. jade often regards malleus with the sentiment of most teenage girls have for their favorite characters: i need to put him under a microscope.

4. his first meal with mushrooms added (lets place him around first year, after winter break) made him violently sick. it was one that he had picked on his own during a night walk, and he added it into a soup because he has seen (yet not tried) those served in the cafeteria like so. due to them being so poorly undercooked, it caused major gastric problems for him. since then, he’s been enthralled and smitten with fungi <3

4.2. speaking on the note of him being sick, i imagine he really enjoys the sensation. now! he doesn’t purposely get sick, that would ruin the ‘authenticity’ of it. but he enjoys the feeling of his body under the weather, something different from the normal 98.0 Fahrenheit, somehow a virus has slipped through his clean and disinfected body and that’s exhilarating.

5. his hair bounces up and has cowlicks in it exactly like floyd’s does. he takes to gently combing and gelling down those in the morning, but when he takes off his octavinelle hat, some will resurface over time. every time floyd goes to ruffle his hair, his wrist is swiftly caught and squeezed by a gloved hand.

6. is known to like quiet, dark, and cold places. it is hard to find such places in a college like night raven but mostro lounge’s walk-in freezer has all THREE of these attributes. has on more than one occasion scared an employee because he sits in the corner, doing homework in the pitch-black dark, and all they can see is the light from his left eye. his reputation keeps anyone from seeing this as odd rather than sinister.

7. is most certainly lying about his UM. always the wolf in sheep’s clothing, he likes to be seen as helpless and he adores being underestimated. sniffle sniffle poor me, my UM only works on one person at a time sniffle sniffle and it is not even a guaranteed thing.

8. has a vigorous appetite and enjoys a wide variety of foods, but has found his favorite fruit to be oranges. he enjoys the sensation of opening them and peeling slice by slice. additionally, vitamin C promotes healthy blood vessel function which works well for a jade with POTS, a headcanon siphoned off this ao3 work.

9. since he does not have the perfect memory like his twin brother, he takes to writing down information about the student body in multiple folders. is always on the lookout for new information and slipping secrets that people whisper in the hallways.

9.2. sometimes gets distracted listening in on other people’s conversation if a topic piques his interest. if he is in a conversation with another person while this happens, he turns it on them, maybe you weren’t paying attention to him … how rude of you.

10. homestretch … last headcanon … [pukes blood and dies before i can say it]

[velvet-paradox]

Stay (ch. 4)

Lessons from Kruger - Meeting a Ghost - Pleasure

Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY, explicit content, strong language, female masturbation.

You got to sit at the table that night for dinner. No longer assigned to the floor, you got your very own spot on the bench, beside König at the head of it. An arrangement of mushrooms and grain lay out on your plate beside some of the boar meat that was caught earlier that morning. Most of it had landed itself on his plate.

"How does it feel?" König asked through a mouthful of his dinner. He had at least put his shirt back on, this thinner one looked comfortable and light on his thick bands of muscles.

"To be off the floor? A lot better."

"Good to hear," he nodded and brought his horn of ale beneath his hood. "But that is not what I asked."

"Then what do you mean?"

"How does it feel… to be one of KorTac now?"

You didn't know how to answer him or even if you should. It only bothered you when you laid down that night, watching König busy himself getting ready for bed that you realized you liked it here. You liked the people, even the ones who barely acknowledged you. They minded their business. You kept your head down and didn't bother anyone. The children of the clan seemed to like you the best because you had new and unheard stories to tell.

You liked KorTac even though you didn't give consent to be here.

And that gave you pause.

….

"Higher."

Krueger shifts and tilts the worn shield in your hand and readies his stance against you. You've been at this for hours, wooden swords for practice, the clacking made nests of birds flew free. Kruger had been entrusted to train you, which he had gladly obliged last week or so. Your stomach flipped when The Collector had sent you off with a light push to follow the other masked man.

Time and days were running together as you no longer kept track.

The markings under your bed had looked low. König had left the door that once separated you, open. And even though you were stolen, a ransom, leverage, some nights you had the urge to crawl into his bed.

You were incredibly touch starved. You hadn't felt the warmth of a hug in so long. Only Keeva had shown you affection and now her light touches were made for her babies.

"Come now, you're not paying attention, pet. If you are to be the wife of The Collector you need to defend yourself," Kruger's wooden sword clacked against your one when you brought it up to block the blow. "You are better than this, no?"

"You're worse than König." You pant, out of breath at his level of training. You've never sweat this much in your life! Day after day, Sebastian had pushed you until your bones ached, until you collapsed to the ground. He'd rouse you back up, set you back on your feet and go for another ten minutes or so.

"Thank you."

Each day you came to train, a little cat of curiosity would creep into your head as to why now, Kruger was the one to train you and not The Collector himself.

Kruger grabbed your shield and knocked it against your head.

"Fucker! And how do you know I am to be his wife?"

Kruger grabbed your arm and held it up, almost yanking you off your feet with his brute strength. "This. König explained what it means to you, to your family. And we're happy to have you. Keeva and Price especially, thank the Gods you were with her in her time of need. You are one of us."

"She's the only one whose been nice towards me."

Kruger scoffed, you couldn't see his face but you knew behind his mask he was feigning some hurt. "As if I am not friendly to you! That is quite rude, pet. I could tell König you know, he'd punish you."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Care to try me?"

You huffed and rounded your shoulders, knowing all too well now that if you challenged Kruger, you were in for a fight.

….

You couldn't sleep that night. Muscles too tight, head too heavy. You tossed and turned in your bed, moving and folding your blankets a little more neatly. You just couldn't get comfortable, no matter how hard you tried, on your back, your side, upside down. Nothing seemed to help and König's talking in his sleep wasn't helping either.

He snored too.

Impulse took root and before you knew it, you had raised your fist and banged it heavily against the wall you shared. You heard silence for once that night, snuggling down into your furs and blankets, punching down a damn near flat pillow.

You felt your body jerk, suddenly yanked down to the edge of your bed with an irate and sleepy looking menace hovering just above you. Your attempt to shield your face from his venomous gaze proved pointless as König swiftly grabbed your wrists and pinned them down to the bed.

"If you have something to say, just say it." He growled, his voice low and tangled with sleep.

You twisted in his grip but that only made him grunt at you and squeeze your bones.

"Are you not the same man who told me not to speak unless spoken to?" you retorted. "And how shall I do that if you are dead asleep?"

König sighed. "You could have come in and kicked me, I would have preferred that than to hear you banging and rolling around in here."

"If you were asleep, how do you know I am restless?"

His mask billowed around his bare shoulders, scars, fresh and old covered his skin like armor in the crackling flames from the burning lanterns inside your side of the room. You wanted to touch them. You shook that feeling from your mind like cobwebs.

It really had been so long since anyone had touched you and you were feeling the delirious effects.

"You have been restless all day, so why should the cover of night be any different? Was Kruger rough on you today?"

"No."

"Hmm, then he is not doing his job. I shall have a talk with him in the morning, make sure you are being pushed to your true potential."

König pushed off of you and he made his way to the separating door, he lingered there before disappearing into his room.

"What's it like?" Anso, a little boy no taller that your kneecap begged the question. "How have you no siblings? I am one of eight!"

"My parents were only blessed with me." You answered. He trotted next to you, holding on the skirt of your dress as you walked down the lane, other little ones following after as you were sent to market for a few elixir items a blonde woman named Laswell was in need of.

"Truly you are blessed by the Gods," Brunihild joined the conversation, catching up to your adult steps in comparison to her stubby short ones. "I am one of nine! I get nothing to myself."

"That is because no one wants what you have!" Ango, the eldest of Keeva and Price laughed himself into hysterics until another girl, Astrid, about the same age punched him in the chest.

Gaz had finished your boots for the colder months ahead, calling out to you once you had procured the herbs and salve for Laswell. The kids had gotten distracted and had taken off at a full sprint towards the fjord you had yet to take in.

"Well, how do they feel?'

You bounced in place after lacing them up, you did not have any suitable size sock to pull on to see how you would fare soon enough.

Gaz was indeed a true master craftsmen. He knew what he was doing. You didn't even need to try on the pants he'd hemmed and tailored for you to know they would indeed keep you skin tight and warm.

There was clamoring in the great hall when you got back, hunts came back left and right and all times of day as of late so it was no real matter to you as you moved past some excited KorTac members.

Laswell's apothecary was on the side of the village to Keeva's, you knew the area well now. You knocked and were welcomed in, she had even paid you an unsuspected sum, a little leather bag to your palm much to her wifes' annoyance. You thanked them and made it back up the hill to the great hall.

On your way with your own score of the day you had bumped into a rather large form. You apologized thinking the mass and weight of shoulders before you was Kruger, only for the man to turn about face and stare you down.

Definitely not Kruger.

The unknown skull-masked man tilted his head and examined you from head to toe.

"And just who might you be then?"

"Apologies."

"That is a rather odd name." The foreign man rounded his thick shoulders, furs slouching a bit if not for the chain digging into his bulky neck, they would surely be on the ground. Brown eyes narrowed down at you.

"No. I mean I'm… I'm König's-"

"Ah! So you are König's newest little play thing, yeah? Give us a spin."

He clicked his teeth but stopped short when a large hand clamped down on your shoulder. You squeaked.

"She will do no such thing for the likes of you, Ghost." König tightened his grip momentarily, locking eyes with this new brute of a man.

"Apologies here said she's yours. I have been away a rather fruitful hunt, we will last another winter."

"Apologies?" He asked.

Ghost pointed at you.

"Her name is pet, not apologies, Simon."

"Of course, König. Whatever you say," Ghost shrugged, water off a ducks back. The tension between the two of them only seemed to anchor and grow once Ghost started speaking again. "She said she was yours, does that mean this one is not for sharing? Keeps perhaps, big man?"

A shiver licked up your spine and if it weren't for König being so close and radiating heat, you might have fell over with the way he looked at you. You were getting used to König's blue eyes, sharp and clear but Simon's brown ones seemed to burn a hole into your flesh.

How many other ransoms and taken hostages, men and women, had been subjected to being passed around? It made bile rise in the back of your throat and you wanted nothing more than to turn and run all the way home.

"No. She is not for consumption."

Ghost looked disappointed but again, as cool and unbothered he hummed and reached his arm out to The Collector, to which he took it and let Simon bring him in close.

"Since you are so preoccupied, maybe I'll pay a visit to Ada, your favorite paramour then. Sure could use a bath and a fuck." Simon sauntered down the hall, making sure to fluff out his furs for dramatic effect.

"Is he going to be a problem?" You finally asked once the burly man was out of sight and hearing.

König snorted and quickly released your shoulder, which he seemed to have completely forgotten about, he urged you two to make the trek back to your quarters. "If he does, you let me know, pet. I am glad to see you have acquired some things from Gaz, we'll fit you for a cloak soon as well."

….

Autumn had settled into the air and into your bones, even though you had a little fire pit in your room, nights were getting colder and colder. The leaves were changing, children were growing and turning out to be effective Vikings, their eagerness to raid with their fathers and older brothers was growing on them. Price and Keeva's oldest had been seen as of late out in the training grounds.

One night you thought of crawling into bed with König, just for warmth of course.

You desperately wanted to see your parents before winter came, blocking passage up your village. The Collector would soon be making his seasonal rounds anyway, and hopefully he would stay true to his word and let you visit.

You waited patiently in your bedroom, wiggling your toes in your boots, hands wringing over the leather of your new pants. He was away on a hunt with Kruger and Ghost. He trusted you to stay put, to which you did. Three days without seeing his humous form stalk about the KorTac village, hear his voice, see his hood swaying as he pounded the dirt down the lane. Watching him quietly move about this very room, a scene not everyone was privy to. Much like you, getting up and walking into his part of the shared space, sitting on his bed instead.

It was a private moment when you realized you were instinctly rubbing your thighs together.

Uh oh.

You'd been touch staved for months now. The scent of König filled your nose when you laid back into his furs, his pillows, his space. Reeking of the woods, sage and his distinct smell. Manly. Burly. Strong. Heady.

The more you thought about him the more you wiggled and gave in, grabbing his closest pillow and inhaling like a dog in heat. And perhaps you were.

You covered your face with the pillow then, gripping at the blankets below as you busied yourself, tearing at the strings of your pants, bucking into nothing, breathing in his scent as your nimble fingers found the source of the issue. Your clit throbbed, your pussy clenched around nothing but want and desire, the first time you'd even allowed yourself to feel something other than dismay. You bit into the fabric of the pillow. Drooling, rubbing your slit for some sort of relief. You startled yourself when you moaned out The Collectors name. What a mess!

Thankfully he wasn't anywhere nearby to see your antics, covering your mouth, the crackling sounds from the fire burning in your room, the warmth of it as you moved and nosily filled the canal of your cunt, easily with two fingers. You'd never heard yourself this loudly before, your mind racing as you pulled them out, circling your clit once more until you gave in and stuffed yourself knuckle deep.

"Whose Ada?" You asked Keeva the next morning, spotting her having some difficulty wrangling her children about, the newborns having sprouted a lot more hair than you remembered, on your way to market. You were surprised to see her up and about so soon, the babes now a good month old, looking wide eyed around the new world around them.

"Oh that one," Keeva snorted and shook her head, as you carried her woven basket. It reminded you of yours back home, collecting dust. "She's a silly one, that Ada. She likes to entertain."

"Ghost called her a paramour."

"Simon is right. Knees to the sky, that one. She's not a bad woman, mind you pet, she just… does things her way. She gets paid to spread her legs for anyone with enough money and willing. I heard," Keeva began to whisper, shooing her little ones away from prying ears. "She's even gotten a few of KorTac's finest to beg. Can you imagine?! Word gets out about submission and they'll make a new song of it, I'm sure."

"Anyone?" Your mind reeled with the image of any of KorTac's finest begging for sexual favors.

Keeva paused. "Are you interested? I don't know of her rate but a new play thing like you might fetch a few pretty coins."

"Not me. The Collector."

"Oh so you are interested in our leader? Not surprised."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing. You two spend a lot of time together, I only see what it is plain. Are you jealous, dear pet? You shouldn't be, he has not been to see her in many months now." Keeva explained, calling after her brood.

"How do you know?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Keeva laughed and you followed after her with a furrowed brow and even more questions than answers.

Obvious of what?

"Wee lass! I was wondering if you might've taken your leave in the wake of The Collectors absence. You must be enjoying yerself here wit' us." Soap found you rummaging for some carrots for Keeva, he clapped a heavy hand on your shoulder that gave you chills. You wondered if he had forgot you were not to be touched or the man couldn't care less. You weren't sure if that was reckless or just the sort of man Soap truly was.

"And risk being blood eagled? I think not."

"König wouldn't do that to you!"

"He did it to the last guy who betrayed him!"

"Oh that," Soap waved a blood lust death like there was some flying insect in front of his face, like it was nothing and maybe to these people it wasn't. Growing up you knew that was the most heinous of deaths and it was rightly served. You played and stayed on the straight and narrow to not be lumped in with venom like that! "That's a totally differen' situation. No' even close, lass."

"Are you König? How would you know that he wouldn't turn on me at once? I have seen his wrath, I know what The Collector is capable of and I would be an idiot to think otherwise. I need his trust."

"You mean… his approval?"

"If I am to be his wife, yes Soap, I need his approval and trust. I can't just be some… some.. nobody."

"WIFE?!" Soap practically shrieked, getting a few looks.

"Did he not tell you what this means?" You held up your arm, the emerald band glinting in the mid-day light.

"No. Why would he tell me something so intimate?" Soap asked.

"He told Kruger."

"Ah, Kruger and I are quite different in rank, pet. Congratulations are in order I suppose, then."

"Maybe don't mention this, out loud again until he comes home, yeah?"

"Home? I suppose you are feeling most welcome." Soap smirked and waved you off, adjusting his cloak as he walked away with a secret. He glanced over his shoulder once as you found the right amount of vegetables needed.

….

Your lips feel bruised, sloppy and wet, sliding over another. Large hands are on your body, prodding and groping. Kneading into the flesh of your thighs, grabbing them, hoisting them, pushing them up and apart. You're out of breath and desperate, oh so fucking desperate for friction, for filling.

You're on your knees, excited and eager to please, the pleasure of serving is hot on your mind, licking at the base of your skull, warming you through like a summer breeze.

It's nice you could cry. You are so unashamed and thorough to be this good. A hand on your head, another under your chin to make you look up and up and . König is smiling at you.

You instantly sit up in bed.

Oh Gods no!

You cannot be feeling this way about your captor.

This cannot be happening. You rub at your eyes, your face is hot and sweating. The apex of your sex is sticky and wet. You're thrumming with adrenaline, jittery at best. You knew it was a mistake to touch yourself, let alone touch yourself in his bed, surrounded by his things.

Now look at you, a miserable and horny mess once more.

You should get up, go outside, get some fresh air, cool yourself off. Stave off this desire. The moment you told Soap that you needed The Collectors approval, his trust, his praise, you were in too deep. Given to him as payment, forced to be his wife, apart of the KorTac clan, to be married to the most brutal and violent man in this realm was not something you ever thought about. And why would you? He's a killer. He's a murderer.

He's… yours.

[cryingpariah]

Halloween with the Strawhats is easily the best place to be for the holiday! The entirety of the Sunny is decked out shiny garlands of pumpkins and Frankenstein heads (the original plan was fake cobwebs but it was strongly vetoed by Nami and Sanji). They had a cola powered fog machine, Franky had created a special hologram to make the grass on deck look lavender, Sunny herself even got a pair of fangs for the occasion!

Usopp is running around telling anyone who will listen the scariest stories that he definitely was there for and survived, don’t forget he is an expert ghost hunter! (Hard cut to Kuraigana where Perona feels a shiver run down her spine and a sneeze come on.) Unfortunately the list of people he ends up actually scaring always includes himself. Robin likes to join in storytelling but unfortunately her stories of mushrooms that slowly take over animals bodies and turn them into fungal zombies are all too real.

Sanji, by incessant borderline nagging requests from his captain, has created a speciality menu for his Halloween feast! Bones he had harvested served with blood (Breadsticks and Marinara sauce), warm and hearty witch's brew (regular stew in a hollowed out pumpkin), he had even offered his heart on a silver platter to his ‘special ladies’ (it was just a meticulous cut and dyed steak that was later passed off to Luffy.)

Zoro and Brook were the guards, stalking around to make sure that no one, alive or dead, disrupted the jovial holiday spirit of their crewmates. Zoro made it a point to ensure to Brook that ghosts can be easily spotted by how annoying they are and how they’ll wake up at 3am to ask what tea you want for their tea party that you never even agreed to come to! Brooks not even scared anymore he’s just incredibly lost. (Perona felt another sneeze coming on, oh why must she be so cute! Everyone can’t stop talking about her!)

Jinbei and Chopper are celebrating their first Halloween..ever! Everything is so new and exciting to them! The doctor plants himself on the helmsman shoulder, chatting eagerly about all the fun new traditions they get to be a part of! They ended accidentally matching costumes.

Hallow's eve on the Sunny is a spook-tacular time of year, no doubt!

[aftgficrec]

Staff Recs - Autumn Roundup 2024

Some fics with fall vibes to warm your soul. -AFTG Fic Rec Fam

previous recs:

staff fave Halloween here (includes previous Halloween recs and supernatural roundup)

Fall Exchange 2020 here

‘doubt thou the stars be fire’ here

‘morbid stuff’ series here

‘The End Is Up To Us’ here

‘Autumn Crocus’ here

‘The Suit Universe�� part 8 here

‘Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy’ here

‘FoxTail Cafe’ series part 13 here

‘Apple Picking Day’ here

‘Fair Games’ here

‘little ghost’ here

‘Lucky Strike’ here

‘Foxglove Court’ series here

‘Thanks for nothing’ here

‘Teaching a caged bird to fly’ series part 5 here

‘Sugar, Spice, and Corporate Espionage’ here

‘The Massive Continuity of Ducks’ here

‘Spell it Out’ here

‘10 tips to stress less, without the tips’ here

‘Being So Normal’ here

‘Aidan Minyard’ here

Honeycomb by moonix [Rated T, 10871 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

In which Kevin owns a restaurant in a picturesque small town, Andrew is his chef, Neil disrupts the routine, no one gets poisoned with mushrooms, and life isn't so bad.

tw: implied/referenced eating disorders, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm

Seasons of memory by butallmystars [Rated G, 4772 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil was all sorts of alluring and unusual; a thin strip of seemingly restless energy, eyes moving almost as much as his legs did, the bespoke lines of his blazer the most uniform thing about him and yet somehow not out of place.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

you wish I was yours (and I hope that you're mine) by lesbiankaz [Not Rated, 9526 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

“Aaron Minyard,” Allison said in a dramatic tone. “Truth or dare?” Aaron rolled his eyes. “Dare.” Kevin wasn't surprised. He knew Aaron would prefer to do a stupid dare instead of telling a single thing about himself. “I dare you,” she paused, making suspense, “to spend seven minutes in heaven with Kevin.” - Kevin has a crush on Aaron. Allison tries to help.

5 ultra-cute fall date ideas that will make your man fall more for you by Bravbo [Rated G, 1364 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

The problem starts with one Neil Josten. Neil who has apparently never celebrated any holidays. Neil, with his blasé attitude about violence. Neil, with his distressingly blue eyes and freckles. Neil, who Andrew want to put on a jar and study like a bug. Yes, Neil Josten is a problem. It´s him that has driven Andrew to this, seeking advice on google like a teenage girl just to make sure Neil has the best holiday.

tw: fire

Float Down (Like Autumn Leaves) series by Apaleyellow [Not Rated, 7309 Words, Collection, Updated Oct 2024]

Part 1: fill my cup half empty (because it's never been half full) [5221 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2024] The boy's face in the reflection was pale, almost translucent, with freckles dotting his cheeks and auburn hair falling in untamed curls around his face. His eyes were an icy blue, piercing and filled with a haunting sadness. Nathaniel Wesninski. The Butcher's son. The ghost of the manor. -- OR -- The one where Andrew is a best-selling horror author who visits the Wesninski Manor in search of inspiration for his next book.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder 

Part 2: would we survive in a horror movie? [2088 Words, Complete, 2024] Their moment was interrupted by Seth's booming voice. "Alright, losers. Time for a real story. Ever heard of the Butcher of Baltimore?" -- OR -- The one where the Foxes are telling scary stories around a campfire and only Andrew knows who Neil really is.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder 

penchant by rooftopkisses [Rated T, 5051 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

When Neil is recruited by Coach Wymack to join the track team at Palmetto High School, he draws the attention of Andrew, the artsy loner, as well as Kevin, the sport’s current state champion.

Rebel Rebel by Andreil_pipedream [Rated M, 7905 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

October settles down on the small town outside of Baltimore. Werewolves start haunting the forests and a certain orange cat gets curious. Nell meets an interesting girl who she may or may not have a crush on. After an awkward first meeting, things are made worse- or better- when she finds out they go to the same school. After a few risky decisions and oblivious flirting, she gets a date where everything starts to go wrong.

tw: child abuse, tw: extreme transphobia, tw: gaslighting, tw: confinement, tw: food deprivation, tw: implied/referenced murder

it's still the autumn leaves by TogeMythia [Rated T, 3389 Words, Complete, 2024]

‘Can I come with you?’ Andrew paused, he was sat on the floor with one foot awkwardly in the air and a black sock with an orange pumpkin pattern halfway pulled on. ‘What?’ He asked. ‘Can I come with you? Wherever you are going.’ - or Neil and Andrew spend an autumn afternoon together.

A Bushel and a Peck by justdk [Rated T, 1405 Words, Complete, 2020]

Andrew picked a few low hanging apples, handing one to Neil. They wiped them off on their shirts and snacked on them while they looked for the rest of the team. The sweet, tangy juice filled Neil’s mouth and ran down his chin. It tasted way better than a store-bought apple. Overhead crows called to each other and the smell of apples filled the crisp, autumn air. Neil closed his eyes and breathed in deep, holding in the feeling of freedom and possibility. When he opened his eyes, he found Andrew looking at him, hazel eyes warm and steady. [or: the Foxes go apple picking]

Bets, Blind Dates, and Dares. Oh My! by makebelieveanything [Rated T, 3761 Words, Complete, 2021]

Andrew loses a bet to Aaron and Kevin and he has to go on two blind dates - they go about as well as he would expect. Is Andrew stuck in a rom-com or is this really how life works?

gourd vibes only by otatop [Not Rated, 3750 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

A mini road trip up through New England to meet the foxes.

Disparity by Jeni182 [Rated G, 3781 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

Andrew is a criminal justice professor who keeps finding excuses to visit the library where a certain red head works.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm

hopscotch heart by moonix [Rated M, 2046 Words, Complete, 2021, Locked]

Podfic here

Neil has a terrible time at a party. Andrew shows up and Neil has a slightly less terrible time at a party.

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: anxiety

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness by seaspeak [Not Rated, 869 Words, Complete, 2016, Locked]

In which Jean falls in love with the Fall, thanks to Jeremy

There Was Only One Pumpkin by familiarwildflowers [Not Rated, 2275 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

To get Nicky off his back about his dating life, Neil decided to lie. Surely there would be no consequences? That's what Neil thought, until, while on a visit to a pumpkin patch, Andrew's lot steps in and he's forced to confront his lie.

Pumpkin Patch by H_bee69 [Rated G, 1600 Words, Complete, 2023]

Part 1 of Spooky times and autumn vibes 

Neil wants to go to the pumpkin patch and who is Andrew to deny Neil.

until I fell off from that peak by eeveepkmnfan [Rated M, 4817 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil Josten lives and tries to come to terms with what that means. Or, Neil collects leaves - Andrew vocally protests.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Forever Falling by cshogg [Rated G, 1370 Words, Complete, 2023]

Snippets of Neil and Andrew's life during autumn: trying new things, rewriting traumatic experiences, and learning to love the seasons like normal people do.

[maleyanderecafe]

Not sure if you've been asked this already but recommendations for VNs, games, and stories where the yandere is a big softie or is really friendly like See Thru, The Snake Has Taken a Spouse, and Route to Love? Where the yandere just takes their love too far and only ever really do bad things to the MC if they have to but are otherwise complete sweethearts, misguided, or obsessive hopeless romantics.

Ohh, that's fun. I actually played Route to Love pretty recently, though I might wait until there's more content to write a proper recommendation (though I really do like Morgan). Big softies are a weakness of mine as well.

Color Me Killer- Honeymouth - I keep telling myself I need to write a recommendation for this game. Imire is generally very sweet, though much like Morgan, can get pretty violent fast if you do the wrong things to him or the child he's looking after.

Cemetery Mary - and to an extension anything that contains Reginald (like Here For Sweethearts). In Cemetery Mary, he's really sweet towards Mary, though if you continue on that route, you'll see that he can be quite a yandere towards her.

The Lithromantic Duke - is a webcomic about a ghost who takes over the duke's body and is finally able to be with the maid he's been watching for a while. Very cute and sweet towards her.

Get to Know: Coffee Date -Teddy is pretty sweet and unassuming until you get all of his affection points, then he shows his more yandere side. The game is pretty tame all things considered though.

I'm a Wolf, but I won't Harm You - webcomic about a black sheep hybrid type protagonist and the wolf that fell in love with her. I think that their relationship is pretty cute overall, though his entire family does carry the yandere trait.

A Double Sided Mirror - Charlie/Charles is generally pretty cute and for the most part seem to want to keep the player safe. Charlie I think is more soft while Charles is generally a lot more friendly.

Mushroom Oasis - Kind of an obvious one because Mycheal is very cute, but it hasn't touched upon the yandere part quite yet. But what is out so far is really adorable.

Gentle Fall - pretty soft yandere, I think it probably goes more onto like light yandere territory as of yet. I do like the aesthetic of it though, very autumn like.

Hopefully these are some good vns and webcomics that you might like. They're all pretty soft towards their lover and from what I can see tend to be mostly romantics.

[a-rabid-snake]

And so, I came to my senses a little bit. I was bored and decided to change the story of "blindness" a little bit, so here it is

Let's tell you a little bit about the characters and why they look like that

Survival - He is very badly injured, so much so that he behaves devastated. It's because he lost his sister.

Monk - She became a ghost for unknown reasons, she doesn't want to say what happened, but she looks like something bad happened.

Hunter - He was gradually consumed by rot, but when he and Artificer fought against the scavengers, one of the bombs exploded so that his paw was torn off. He can't say how he figured out how to fix the rot in his body, but he uses it for his own purposes

Gourmand - He fought against the furious scavenger, at one point he was stabbed in the eye with a spear, fortunately he survived, but now he walks with an eye patch

Artificer - The symbiosis of emptiness and slugcat. She can create both ordinary explosives and what is in the rubicon. Part of it is to blame for the fact that hunter no longer has a paw. She thinks that everything is fine with her, although this is not quite true

Spearmaster - He has been watching the slugcat for a long time, how much fun they have, how they smile. At some point, he felt incomplete and wanted to be happy like the others. He tore the skin, there should be a mouth there, but unfortunately, it turned out that he did not have the muscles to hold his mouth and to smile. Now he looks creepy and is afraid of him

Rivulet - He was captured by an angry scavenger, he looks very nervous. He was bullied, trying to get information, unfortunately, now he has an injury, he is nervous, twitchy, timid, sometimes mutters something to himself. You can often see him hugging himself and shaking. He also has scars and is missing parts of his gills and fins.

Saint - He is blind until the moment he uses his power. When he uses ascension, he can only see a small part, but rather, something similar to forces with the soul. He lost his eyesight when arti struck him with her claws in a rage. She didn't want it, but the past made itself felt.

Enot - Because of a glitch, he merged with his egg. It is immune to singular explosions, and can also create singularity bombs.

Nightcat - He was swallowed up by some kind of glitch, now his body is not stable, when he tries to open the framework with the program code, they start to glitch. The only slugcat that can see monk and also talk to her

Dude, they're infected with emptiness and fungi, what the hell

Patient Zero - scavenger

Both diseases have three stages

Infection with dusty fungi

The first stage is a feeling of weakness, fatigue and not wanting to do anything, at this stage it is not yet clear what happened, because it feels like an ordinary disease

The second stage is wool or skin, or any light and colored parts, begin to fade and sometimes acquire gray-green spots. At this stage, hunger disappears, the creature does not feel pain, it just walks and does not think. At this stage, you forget everything you can, you don't have a sense of fear

The third stage - the creature begins to overgrow with mushrooms, it looks very cheerful due to the lack of control in the body. The eyes are wide and empty. In the third stage, the creature only wants to spread the spores and find food

The third stage is the most dangerous, because this disease is transmitted through the air, if you do not close your nose and mouth and inhale spores, then you can start infection

It is recommended to burn the creature already in the second stage, in the second stage they do not feel pain and will not interfere with you. At the third stadium, they will already start to attack you

Void infestations

At the first stage of the process, nothing changes, except that you have ribbons like echoes

In the second stage, you feel panic and also feel itching all over your body. The ribbons are gradually turning black

At the third stage, a crystallized void grows, at this stage you no longer contrast yourself and want to drown yourself in a sea of emptiness or make someone like you. The infection is transmitted through a bite or blood. It is not recommended to consume infected even in the first stage

I hope I've explained everything. If someone wants to, then you can play around and ask questions to the characters or me

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

book 7 part 3 thoughts!!

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7, PART 3 OF THE MAIN STORY AND MALLEUS’S DORM UNIFORM VIGNETTES.***

If you’d like to watch a rough part-by-part summarized translation, please check out this archived stream!

Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

LOL???? We start this part in Ignihyde 😂 with Idia getting a phone call from (OG/grown-up) Ortho??? Ortho says he’s enrolled at RSA and it’s Idia’s first year as a dorm leader????? What sorcery is this???? I-Is this Ortho’s dream…? Or is it Idia’s dream???

cnn kdveienskebe Okay, it’s Idia’s dream??? Oh gosh, he pictures Ortho as being the kind of heroic and kind-hearted person who would attend RSA if he were still alive… 😭

NOT THAT IMPORTANT but Idia games with Lilia and it’s cute :>

Idia is happy to go along with the call but then notices weird little discrepancies like how NRC’s opening ceremonies are at night (but Ortho called him during the day and Ortho is excited about NRC even though he himself is going to RSA)? He feels like something bad is going to happen…

AND SUDDENLY A WILD MALLEUS GREETS HIM???? Wow, he finally got invited— Gao-Gao Dragon-kun returns as a motif throughout episode 7, Idia seems super hype about it. Interestingly, it looks like Gap-Gao has evolved into a full-fledged dragon when Malleus shows it to Idia 🥺 The set-up is very similar to Idia’s + Ortho’s ceremonial robes stories, but in the original vignettes, Idia meets Malleus on the way to the ceremony and gets too scared, so Idia heads back to his dorm.

OMINOUS??????? Malleus is all like, “Gao-Gao was broken many tomes, but I fixed it and I intend to keep it this way for a long time”. This, of course, is him actually talking about what he’s done to prevent everyone from leaving him :)))

OMG WILD LILIA TOO

Entrance ceremony~ The characters repeat the exact same lines spoken during the prologue!! Deja vu~ Cool little easter egg there, this really is a redux but with nothing bad happening and Malleus actually invited and Idia physically present instead of just being a tablet— Something else weird is that Yuu and Grim don’t seem to be at the ceremony.

RSA is confirmed to have dorms and dorm leaders as well! No specific dorms are referenced though.

“I feel like I’ve forgotten something very important…” — Idia

Back to Diasomnia we go… and the expected Sleeping Beauty dream sequence from Yuu… Then Yuu wakes up to what seems to be the room Mickey described to them (from the animated short 1936 Thru the Mirror) but mirrored/flipped (the date on a calendar is written as 51), Also???? Yuu and Grim seem to remember the “real world”; they recall Malleus casting magic before they passed out. UHHHH they’re locked in the room and there are ghosts drawn on the windows. That’s weird, that’s suspicious 😳

THE FOOT STOOL (ottoman?) IS A DOG WITH A PUG FACE???? Wait… THIS IS MICKEY’S ROOM, ISN’T IT??? He literally described a foot stool thing that barks like a dog the last time he talked to Yuu.

WHAT everything is alive??? Beauty and the Beasting it… Grim eats a sketchy nut and temporarily becomes big (a la Alice in Wonderland), they mention there are mushrooms in the Queendom of Roses that have a similar effect.

OH MY GOD MEETING MICHARD REAL GONE WILD NOT CLICKBAIT

Mickey makes more Thru the Mirror references (he squirts ink at playing cards)? Then he mentions dancing about the queen (of Hearts!?) and the king getting mad about it… ordering the card soldiers to attack him. “I feel bad for the card soldiers.”

Mickey weirdly says something like. Their consciousnesses are in this place but their bodies are elsewhere. Mickey is going to help them look for their friends!! They sort of imply this is Mickey’s dream world, he starts vanishing because now it's morning... and now he is "waking" from the dream.

Blot??????????? They punch a monster thing????

HUH???? ??? ? ???? ? SILVER PULLS UP TO SAVE OUR ASSES???? 😭 We get his UM reveal as well! It's called "Meet in a Dream" (written as "Let's see the same dream") but we don't immediately get to see what it does because we cut away to the real world. The incantation for "Meet in a Dream" is roughly, "For the person/people I met before, for the person/people I will meet soon". IT SOUNDS LIKE SOMETHING AURORA WOULD SAY WHILE WAITING FOR HER PRINCE THAT SHE DREAMED OF

Back at Diasomnia, Malleus is creepily humming over everyone sleeping...DHBFIYODSBFIOIOAF MORE IMPORTANTLY THOUGH, ORTHO'S CONSCIOUSNESS IS IN CYPERSPACE AND HE ACCESSES THE LAST MEMORIES HE HAD STORED BEFORE GETTING KNOCKED OUT (something, something... emergency protocols activated because Malleus emitted a high amount of blot)👁️ His hologram goes and tries to wake Idia up (lol I guess he did end up getting affected by Fae of Maleficence), then tries to connect to his spare bodies but their circuits are not working. He also tries playing music of Idia's favorite girl group to wake him (Idia usually wakes up and dances), but Idia still doesn't.

The time also seems to have not moved, just like during Endless Halloween Night. Wow, Malleus really decided to reject any and all change, even the passage of time...

Ortho realizes just how wide Malleus's spell has been cast (like, it seems to extend even to RSA which is on the other side of Sage's Island). That's... scary... x_x Guess no heroes are coming to save them, huh?

OMINOUS COMMENT: Ortho says that if people continue to dream like this without waking, they will miss out on food and water that their bodies need... and so they will DIE. They got like a week tops without water 🤡 and then their consciousnesses will remain forever trapped in the dream worlds????

STYX becomes relevant again! They get alerted to the blot levels on Sage's Island.

KJBLDVITUFUQFWOVYQFEOBAFIBAFI DIRECTOR SHROUD AND HiS WIFE SHOW UP???????? THEY GOT ON FULL-ON CYBERpUNK HELMETs ON TOO??? Mrs. Shroud sounds so young 😭 and she acts surprisingly cutesy???? She calls her husband “papa” and serves at STYX's technical director.

STYX forces on Sage's Island can't seem to penetrate it... UM IT SOUNDS LIKE MALLEUS'S MAGIC FIELD IS EXPANDING, STYX is going to evacuate people close to Sage's Island.

WEIRDLY, IDIA'S DAD COMMENTS THAT HE FEELS LIKE HE HAS SEEN THIS SCENE OF SPRAWLING THORNS BEFORE???? Mr. Shroud remarks that he has seen it in stories of the Thorn Witch. I-Is history… repeating itself?

Ortho gets in contact with STYX and Mrs. Shroud is soooo cute 😭 She calls him “Or-kun” and worriedly asks him about his older brother and if Ortho is hurt, etc.

So Malleus used ancient magic (regional dominion?) to control everything in that field?? Mr. Shroud says fairies in general have always historically had the magic to “change” the world/nature, like land forms and the weather.

Uhhhh so??? They that Malleus’s magic won’t ever run out because he can absorb power from the natural elements to fuel his magic??? His magic field will keep expanding… so Twisted Wonderland is pretty much fucked if they can’t stop him 💀

OH MAN Mrs. Shroud says they’re going to try and contact Briar Valley 🤡 though Grandma Shroud tried to in the past and it was difficult?

Aww, sort of sad?? Mr. Shroud implies he’s a normal person and that he’s dealing with geniuses that try to do things that he can’t.

The Briar Valley actually responded and try to help them break the barrier around Sage’s Island!! But it sounds like even they could not get past it…

Ortho transfers his consciousness to the Cerberus Gear body!! (Mrs. Shroud makes it for him!) It can last ~20 minutes inside the field. Two dogs will follow him; they have the Cerberus security system in them.

He’s the best suited for this investigation (it’s NOT meant to be a rescue, just a mission to collect info) because his existence defies nature itself; he is the culmination of human ingenuity and Malleus can’t overwrite that. Ortho promises to come back and to save his big brother, he doesn’t want the Shroud parents to lose “another son” 😢

LOL all the researchers are passed out on the floor, even Mr. Shroud was like. Sleeping under a table 😂

Not Mrs. Shroud joking about peeking at Idia’s password protected folders 💀 and not Idia leeching off of STYX’s wifi cuz he’ll die without high-speed internet to do his dailies…

Mrs. Shroud continues to be so wholesome and worried for her children, she encourages Ortho to come back if he’s scared or feels like he’s in danger. It’s so moe of her 🥺

Hmmm 🤔 the Shroud parents are definitely a lot different than what I thought they’d be?? They’re very warm and accepting of Ortho, especially Mrs. Shroud. I didn’t get that impression from book 6 and Idia’s post-OB flashback, it seemed like the Shroud parents were very hands-off and work oriented. Of the two, Mr. Shroud is definitely quieter and more stand-offish, so it seems like Idia takes after the dad and Ortho after the mom. It’s not a bad thing, I’m just surprised!! I’ll definitely keep this in mind while writing them moving forward.

Back to Mickey's world!! ... Suddenly, they're in the sky and comedically falling out of it???? They land outside of Diasomnia dorm.

HMMMMMM so Silver says that the “blot” he fought earlier is like… the darkness that appears in dreams. He has seen it many times. If the darkness catches you, it will drag you into an even deeper dream… and it seems like they fell into a new dream because Mickey woke up (so Mickey’s dream crumbled).

“Meet in a Dream” allows him to enter the dream world of people who have a bond with him. So… there is a preexisting connection Silver has with Mickey????

Silver has??? Met Mickey before in his dreams?? This confirms the story Mickey told us before of seeing a silver-haired boy. Usually the dreamer does not remember him being there, but Mickey for some reason COULD remember Silver. (When Silver himself wakes up from the dreams, he doesn’t remember them.)

bcsksbiexbkss OMG POOR LAD????? Silver has tried to wake up before by punching himself and by bashing his head against rocks (to no success).

He doesn’t 100% understand his power or dreams yet, but he describes each dream to us as its own landscape? It’s an oddly artistic way of describing it but I guess without the context of Malleus trapping them all there it calling them “landscapes” is nice!!

Silver says he somehow stumbled into Mickey’s dream while following a bird that shone with rainbow colors. Ho-Oh is that you (A bird that gives the illusion of rainbow colors… It sounds similar to the white birds Kalim borrowed in his dorm story vignettes from Silver.)

There are other stipulations to using his UM; Silver has to be sleeping AND be aware that he is dreaming in order for him to dream walk. He also can’t decide whose dreams he ends up in. Silver eerily mentions that he cannot escape from dream worlds, not unless the dreamer wakes up or the dreamer/Silver gets a large enough shock.

Silver falls through the sky to get to new dreams? He calls these transitions “dream corridors”. He describes dreams as places of memories and wishes, making up one’s greatest desires… but also meaning different things to different people.

They enter Diasomnia and IN COMES SEBEK SHOUTING AT THEM??? Apparently there's a party going on at Diasomnia to send Malleus and Lilia off for their internships. (There is a little glowing fairy thing flying around Sebek which indicates that Sebek is the dreamer. We did not previously see this light around Mickey.) Sebek rushes them to the party where everyone else is waiting!!

Oooh, we hear what Lilia’s internship might have been! He would be going into a company that specializes in making magical tools for medicine/health; his reasoning is that the Briar Valley has people who are not used to technology, and Lilia wants to be able to make their lives easier by introducing these technologies to them. Malleus’s archeological internship would be in the Land of Crimson Long.

BRUH 😭 Dream!Lilia says he will stay in their forest cottage where he raised Silver for the rest of his life, he’s not leaving.

Silver calls them out on the bullcrap, calling the situation for what it truly is. “This is just a convenient dream!” It’s fake, it’s all wrong. He shouts at on point, which is something be rarely ever does; the last time I can recall him shouting is back at the end of Endless Halloween Night.

ERRRRR (real) Malleus is monitoring all of their dream worlds, that’s 100x more creepy than anything Rook can do 💀 Malleus is justifying this by using his position as to-be king; “it’s only natural for a king to watch over his subjects”, that kind of thing. Leona would be hella pissed—

Eh? EH????? WE'RE PUNCHING SEBEK NOW (he’s protecting Malleus). And so we beat him up and Sebek finally remembers reality. (I think the implication is that by beating him up, they’re “shocking” the dreamer awake.) Sebek begrudgingly joins our party!! ✨

bhlBFYUVAIFAIAFDIL I OH NO, MALLEUS IS MAD THAT SILVER IS “AWAKE”

AYO OB MALLEUS BATTLE, HIS PHANTOM IS MALEFICENT'S DRAGON FORM, IT’S TIME TO GASLIGHT, GATEKEEP, GIRLBOSS (before revealing his OB form, he was really trying to convince us it’s not a dream when we said it was one + confused Grim with his claims, then lowkey threatened us by saying “if you keep talking, I won’t forgive you”.) That’s… scarily accurate for how real emotional manipulators act 😬

I kept being reminded of Malleus’s dorm uniform vignettes around this point in the main story. In the vignettes, Malleus teleports the dorm leaders (without consent) to Diasomnia to hold a meeting, and they become upset with him for treating them like objects. Malleus is STILL treating living beings like objects (even if he does care for them). Look at what he’s doing: he doesn’t think about what they want, he’s manipulating them again, and even earlier he implied they and Gao-Gao were the same… Broken things that have been repaired, and that he intends to keep this way forever.

Silver grabs their hands and says they’ll jump into another dream!! LOL 😂 Sebek’s being tsundere at the worst of times… “I WOULD NEVER HOLD YOUR HAND!!!” SEBEK PLEASE, NOT NOW!?????? We’RE GonNA DiE

Malleus tries to force them back under, but a sparkling light "like an aurora" compels Silver to not succumb. Silver asks his father to give him power while clutching onto the ring on a chain that Lilia imparted to him. AWWW SILVER 😭

This time they wake up in a forest and get surrounded by masked people who speak in... animal sounds??? It may be a fairy language; in Fairy Gala: If we learn that different kinds of fae communicate in different ways (for example, the diurnal fae speak in like bell chimes). Sebek seems to understand what they are saying... so maybe the language of the nocturnal fae????

AYO THE MIDDLE ONE KINDA LOOKS LIKE CROWLEY... EVEN THE EYES GLOW YELLOW LIKE HIS DO???? IS IT JUST THE MASK SHAPE???? OR WAS CROWLEY A WAR VET??????? ??????? ?? ?? ? (Side note: I think these masked NPCs are meant to resemble Maleficient's minions!)

There is also what appears to be the sound effects of canon fire??? Is this… a battleground?? The human-fairy war?????? (The masked men are soldiers that report to Lilia!)

FKJLADFIHLAFSLIHAFLIADFILETasasutvfetoqevb WHAT WHAT WHAT???!?!?!?!?!?!?!? LONG HAIR LILIA SHOWS UP IN A MASK AND SAVES THEM???? HE’S USING HIS CLEAVER TOO (this is his dream for sure now 😭)

So in Lilia’s new design, we see that there are green gems hanging off of him; these may be magical gems or the special ore he mentioned his weapon is made from (which is very rare in modern times).

If you look closely, his hair streaks are dark red instead of bright magenta. This lines up with one of Lilia’s voice lines in which he expresses dying his hair different colors depending on his whims.

Every warrior seems to be wearing a mask? And we can see their eyes glow (I wonder if this is a trait of nocturnal fae)? The masks may be there as s cultural thing or maybe as a tactic to obscure their faces from their enemies.

It’s odd that Lilia’s dream seems to be of war time??? Because Malleus’s magic is meant to give them happy dreams, but surely Lilia doesn’t think of war time as a happy period of his life???? Maybe that will be better explained in the next update??

AAAAAAAHAHHHHHHHH??????? ? ?????? ? ? ? ? ? ? THAT'S THE END OF THE PART 3 UPDATE???? ? ?? ??? ? TWST, YOU REALLY GONNA CUT US OFF LIKE THIS?? ???? ? ? ? ???????? ? ? 🫠 WE’RE ONLY At PART 55 AnD SO MUcH SHiT hAS GONE dOWN…………………..,,..,,, …….. ….. … . .. . .. . . .

[starsandtulips]

welt with "the kids" headcanons. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

characters⟡ welt yang, stelle, march 7th, dan heng, (slight) himeko, (slight) pom pom, (mentioned) seele, (mentioned) luka

relationships⟡ none

cw⟡ reference to canonical character death in hi3

~ all three of them look up to welt in different ways

~ stelle appreciates his knowledge of the universe, especially when she woke up she understood almost nothing and it's nice to have someone to rely on to know things

~ dan heng admires his resilience and passion for adventure

~ march loves his stories and often takes little bits of her favorites to turn into backstories for herself

~ welt can be pretty quiet when not answering (mostly stelle's) questions, often staring into space

~ the only time the trailblaze trio see his eyes light up when talking is when he's discussing the shows he's worked on in his time as an animator

~ he has shown them all of the episodes of arahato that he can remember off of the top of his head (using his mimicry)

~ they are all big fans of arahato (even if dan heng doesn't show it)

~ welt has somehow been roped into promising to get/make them arahato merchandise to wear

~ stelle attempted to bring back a small piece of the engine of creation as a gift for welt but was told it had to stay on jarilo-vi

~ the trio has several running betting pools (that dan heng had to be coaxed into participating in) about welt

~ the betting pools that are currently ongoing include:

is arahato real? (stelle and march believe arahato is a real robot while dan heng thinks the show is fully fictional)

who can eat more spicy puffy mushrooms: mr. yang or stelle? (they're waiting to head back to belobog for this one to convince welt to do it and because members of wildfire, seele and luka, are also involved in the betting pool)

does mr. yang actually need his glasses? ("because he loses them so much on the Express!" march says, stelle and dan heng are confused on why someone would wear glasses without needing them)

~~some angst below!!!!~~

~ the only thing that is off limits to bet on is why he sometimes looks at himeko like he's looking at a ghost

~ i already wrote something on this but: when welt begins to drift off and become lost in his memories, the trailblaze trio + pom pom team up to cheer him up!!!

~ they've made a pact to not let himeko know or welt catch on to what they're doing on those days

~ so far they have been mostly successful in cheering him up

[novaursa]

Between Pride and Fire (the flint)

- Summary: It was a challenge of the hunt that drew the lion to you, but it was your fire that made him yours.

- Paring: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: driftmark

- Next part: prelude to war

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @punk-in-docs @barnes70stark

From The Testimony of Mushroom, corroborated in The Accounts of Westerosi Lords by Grand Maester Orwyle and various records from the Rock

The Departure from Driftmark

The incident that marred Lady Leona Lannister at Driftmark’s funeral repast signaled a turning point not only for the young Lannister maiden but for the entire realm. What had begun as mourning for Lady Laena Velaryon quickly unraveled into a maelstrom of violence and whispered treason.

Lord Jason and his lady wife lingered only a short time after the incident. Mushroom claims it was Leona herself who hastened their departure, for when Orwyle attempted to examine the stitches again, the girl reportedly turned her face away and whispered tearfully to her father, “Take me home, Papa.” And take her home he did.

The Lannister host departed Driftmark two days later, the somber air of their procession a stark contrast to the fanfare of their earlier arrival. Grand Maester Orwyle recounts that Princess Y/N Targaryen rode with Leona cradled carefully in her arms, the girl’s face hidden beneath a silken hood. Lord Jason led the host atop his courser, his visage cold and unyielding as the winds off the Narrow Sea. Behind them rode Loren Lannister, steadfast as ever, with the younger children—Aemma, young Tyland, Daena, and the infant twins Rhaegel and Rhaelle—seated in carriages adorned with the lion of Lannister and the dragon of Targaryen.

Witnesses speak of King Viserys himself standing atop the Driftmark battlements to watch their departure, a pitiful sight of a man aged far beyond his years. Mushroom claims the king’s eyes brimmed with tears as he murmured, “They are my blood, and they slip from my hands like ash.” Whether true or not, Grand Maester Orwyle’s letters confirm that Viserys sent a raven to Princess Y/N shortly after, imploring her to return to King’s Landing soon.

Though the Lannisters left without ceremony, their absence left a weight upon Driftmark. The silence of their retreat was more deafening than a thousand horns of war.

The Aftermath of Driftmark

Word of the incident traveled quickly across the realm, carried like wildfire on the tongues of ravens and messengers. In Casterly Rock, Lord Jason and his family settled back into their stronghold, but the rumors from Driftmark followed them like ghosts. Mushroom paints a vivid picture of Jason standing atop the walls of the Rock, looking eastward toward the capital as he told his wife, “I should have slit that boy’s throat myself. No lion forgets such an insult.”

Leona Lannister, the scar now stitched into her face, became the silent symbol of the West’s ire. Princess Y/N ordered for golden masks to be crafted, delicate and ornate, to hide the wound that stretched from her daughter’s mouth to her ear. She is said to have comforted Leona in private, whispering, “You are still beautiful, my love. No scar can take that from you.”

Her brother Loren became her shadow, ever at her side with a quiet watchfulness that belied his years. While Leona grew fierce and stubborn, refusing pity, Loren tempered her fire with loyalty. Together, they were the pride of the Rock—two lions touched by dragonfire.

The Fate of Ser Laenor Velaryon

Less than a moon’s turn after the Lannisters returned to Casterly Rock, word arrived in King’s Landing that Ser Laenor Velaryon, the husband of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, had been found dead in Spicetown on Driftmark. The stories were muddled. Some claimed it was a lover’s quarrel turned fatal; others whispered it had been a planned murder. Most agreed, however, that Laenor had been slain in a private hall by his companion, Ser Qarl Correy.

Whether by design or coincidence, Ser Qarl vanished shortly after, leaving no witnesses save for whispers. Mushroom, never shy of speculation, claims the incident was “conveniently timed” and attributes the deed to none other than Prince Daemon Targaryen, who, in his telling, “grew tired of Rhaenyra’s Velaryon burden.” He also adds with typical vulgarity, “Laenor always loved men better than his princess, and so the gods loved him less in turn.”

The Westerlands’ Growing Suspicion

In the wake of the Lannisters’ departure, other storms began to stir. News of Ser Laenor Velaryon’s untimely death in Spicetown reached Casterly Rock less than a moon later. The Westerlands, already skeptical of the events at Driftmark, viewed the death with deep suspicion. “A convenient murder, timed too well,” Jason muttered during a council of his bannermen. “If it smells of dragonfire, a dragon likely lit the match.”

The whispers of Laenor’s death merged with the rumors that had begun to swirl around Princess Rhaenyra’s sons. Word from King’s Landing suggested that the boys, Jacaerys and Lucerys, were not true Velaryons but bastards born of Harwin Strong. While many across the realm muttered such accusations in secret, Jason Lannister—ever the provocateur—found quiet amusement in the scandal.

Mushroom, never one to shy from salacious details, claims Jason jested to his wife over supper, “At least our brood cannot be questioned. The gods have seen fit to bless me with silver-haired lions—true Targaryen fire with Lannister roar.” Princess Y/N, Mushroom adds, was less amused by her husband’s tongue but refrained from chastising him too openly.

Yet Jason’s pride was not without merit. The children of House Lannister—Leona, Loren, Aemma, Tyland, Daena, Rhaegel, and Rhaelle—were spoken of in glowing terms across the Westerlands. Mushroom claims that lords whispered over cups of wine that “the Targaryen blood runs pure in the Rock, while it spoils in the capital.” Whether truth or exaggeration, the sentiment deepened the divide between the West and the Crown.

The Growing Divide

As King Viserys’s health waned, whispers of war grew louder. House Hightower, aligned with Queen Alicent and her children, sought to solidify their strength in Oldtown and King’s Landing. Meanwhile, Princess Rhaenyra’s supporters looked to Driftmark and Dragonstone as bastions of her claim. Yet in the Westerlands, Jason Lannister remained an unpredictable force.

He did not speak openly of war, nor did he voice allegiance to either side, though his disdain for the Hightowers had been well noted. When questioned by his bannermen, Jason’s only reply was, “A lion waits to strike when the moment is ripe.”

It was said that Princess Y/N, ever the calm counter to her husband’s fire, urged him to remain patient. “For now, we guard our pride,” she is recorded as saying to her ladies-in-waiting. “When the time comes, the Rock will choose its side—and we will choose wisely.”

Yet despite her reassurances, the realm watched Casterly Rock with wary eyes. The children of House Lannister—touched by both fire and gold—stood as symbols of what could come. Leona and Loren, bonded to dragons, were whispered of in awe. Aemma, sweet and clever, was the darling of her grandsire King Viserys. Tyland and Daena grew mischievous and bright, ever conspiring with whispers of their own. And the youngest twins, Rhaegel and Rhaelle, were but babes, yet even they carried the weight of their bloodline.

Conclusion

Thus, the Lannisters of Casterly Rock waited. In Driftmark’s wake, the roar of lions was stilled—but not silenced. As the realm’s divisions deepened and whispers of treason and bastardy spread like rot through the halls of power, Jason and Princess Y/N stood watchful and strong.

“When the dragons burn themselves to ash,” Jason was overheard saying, “the lions will rise to rule the realm.”

Whether his words were prophecy or merely the boast of a proud lord remains to be seen. Yet as Mushroom so darkly concludes, “The lions did not roar that day, but all men heard them breathing.”

129 AC – Casterly Rock

The great hall of Casterly Rock echoed with the quiet murmur of servants, the crackle of torches lining the stone walls, and the faint rhythm of the waves crashing far below. You stood at the window, the view stretching beyond the cliffs to where the sea met the horizon, vast and unknowable. Jason’s footsteps sounded softly behind you, and before you could turn, his arms circled around your waist, pulling you back against him. His chin rested gently on your shoulder as his lips brushed the edge of your ear.

“You’re brooding again,” Jason murmured, his voice low and familiar. “I can practically see the smoke rising from your thoughts.”

You smiled faintly, though your gaze remained fixed on the sea. “A raven came from Dragonstone this morning.”

Jason stiffened just slightly, the subtle shift enough for you to notice. “What news?” he asked, though his tone was casual—a man trying to feign disinterest when he already knew the answer would not please him.

You turned in his arms, looking up into his green eyes. “Rhaenyra has summoned us to King’s Landing. Vaemond Velaryon seeks to petition his claim for the Driftwood Throne… to disinherit Luke.”

Jason let out a quiet breath, his brow furrowing as he absorbed the words. “And Corlys?”

“Gravely wounded,” you answered softly. “Rhaenyra fears the worst. If Vaemond’s petition is heard before the king…” You trailed off, unable to finish the thought. Jason did it for you.

“Then Lucerys could be cast aside,” he muttered, his tone edged with frustration. “It would be a slight to Rhaenyra’s claim as well—a challenge. The Hightowers will surely stoke the fire.”

You nodded, stepping back to lean against the window ledge. “She’s asking for our support, Jason. She’s asking for me.”

Jason studied you for a moment, his arms crossing over his chest. “And what do you wish to do?”

You met his gaze without hesitation. “We go. She is my sister, and her sons are my nephews. You know as well as I that this is only the beginning. If Vaemond succeeds, the next blow will strike closer.”

Jason sighed, raking a hand through his golden hair before pacing away. “Seven hells… I knew peace wouldn’t last. Not with Alicent’s brood sniffing for any excuse to tear Rhaenyra down.” He stopped and turned back toward you, his green eyes sharp. “Very well. We go to King’s Landing.”

Before you could respond, a knock echoed at the doors of the hall. “Enter,” Jason barked, his voice carrying an edge of impatience.

The heavy doors swung open, revealing Loren and Leona standing side by side, their tall frames a mirror of their parents. At fifteen, the twins were striking—Leona with her silver-blonde hair cascading down her back and sharp violet eyes, her chin tilted up in a way that spoke of quiet confidence. Her scarred face, however, was adorned with the golden mask fashioned for her—an exquisite creation that covered the length of her jaw and the line of the deep gash, molded perfectly to her features. The mask was polished to a gleam, etched with intricate lion motifs that caught the light like fire. Coupled with the dresses you had commissioned for her—garments embroidered with threads so intricate and fine that no one could look at her without marveling—Leona was a sight of wonder and strength.

Beside her, Loren was taller, his pale curls an unmistakable Targaryen trait, though his emerald eyes were the shade of a Lannister lineage. Both wore the colors of House Lannister and House Targaryen with pride, their presence commanding even in silence.

“Mother. Father,” Loren greeted formally, though his tone was light, as if he’d overheard and already knew what the summons was about. Leona’s gaze, however, lingered on you with curiosity.

Jason waved a hand, beckoning them closer. “Come here, both of you. It seems your aunt Rhaenyra is in need of our family once more.”

Leona’s expression sharpened as she stepped forward, her brow furrowing. “What’s happened?”

“Lord Vaemond Velaryon seeks to petition his claim to Driftmark,” you explained, your voice steady but soft. “He challenges Luke’s inheritance. Rhaenyra has called us to King’s Landing.”

Loren tilted his head slightly, his lips curving faintly into a smirk. “And you mean to go?” he asked, though there was no doubt in his tone.

“Of course,” Jason interjected, his gaze sharp as he looked between his eldest children. “The Rock does not abandon family, and we do not turn our backs on the bonds we’ve forged.”

Leona nodded, her eyes gleaming faintly in the firelight. “Vaelora and Morghan will carry us swiftly,” she said, referring to their dragons . “We’ll be ready by morning.”

Jason raised a brow, pride flickering in his gaze despite the weight of the moment. “Eager for another chance to show your dragons off, are you?”

Loren grinned, his expression every bit as smug as his father’s. “It would be a shame to waste the opportunity, wouldn’t it?”

Leona gave her brother a faint glare before turning her attention back to you. “What of the others?” she asked quietly.

You smiled at her thoughtfulness. “They’ll come with us. Tyland, Daena, Aemma, Rhaegel, and Rhaelle—all of them. Your aunt wishes us to bring the full strength of House Lannister.”

Jason let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Your mother means to arrive with all power the West can muster.”

“And we shall,” you replied firmly, looking to your children. “When we arrive in King’s Landing, we will remind them all that House Lannister does not waver—be it for blood, bonds, or dragons.”

Loren dipped his head in agreement, his amusement fading as he took the matter seriously. “And the Hightowers?”

Jason’s smirk turned sharp. “Let them watch. Let them seethe. The king will see that Rhaenyra has allies. We will stand beside her, as always.”

Leona nodded once more, though there was a flicker of concern in her violet eyes. “We will make you proud,” she promised softly.

Jason crossed the room, placing a firm hand on her shoulder before looking to Loren. “You already do.”

The following morning dawned with a flurry of activity. The sun had barely crested the horizon when the sounds of dragons echoed through the air. From the cliffs of Casterly Rock, Vaelora and Morghan took to the skies, their forms casting long shadows across the stone walls.

From atop Vaelora’s pale, red-marked back, Leona sat tall and proud, her silver hair streaming behind her like a banner. Beside her, Loren guided Morghan, the massive black dragon a fearsome sight against the clear sky.

Below, Jason led the head of the Lannister procession, his crimson cloak billowing behind him as he rode at the forefront of the golden host. Behind him rode you, with your dragon, Morrath circling above. Your youngest children bundled safely in carriages, their laughter drifting faintly through the crisp morning air. The banners of House Lannister and Targaryen flew high, carried by men adorned in gilded armor that shone as brightly as the rising sun.

The smallfolk of the Westerlands gathered to watch, cheering loudly as the might of Casterly Rock departed. The sight of dragons overhead, combined with the strength of the Lannister procession, stirred awe and whispers throughout the land.

Jason glanced over his shoulder as you caught up to ride beside him. He flashed you one of his roguish smiles, his green eyes bright with mischief and pride. “Well, wife, do you think the Hightowers will sleep soundly tonight?”

You smirked faintly, your gaze turning to the dragons soaring ahead. “Not if they have any sense.”

Jason laughed, shaking his head. “Good. Let them know we are coming. Let them know the lions have not forgotten.”

And with that, the golden host of House Lannister moved eastward, toward King’s Landing, where fire, blood, and a storm of treachery awaited them all.

The sun had begun its slow descent toward the horizon as the golden host of House Lannister passed through the gates of King’s Landing. The smallfolk had lined the streets, as they always did when Jason Lannister and his family arrived—curious eyes peering out from shuttered windows, children waving wildly, and men and women alike murmuring at the sight of dragons soaring overhead.

Morrath, Vaelora and Morghan circled high above the city, their wings casting long shadows over the rooftops as Leona and Loren guided them toward the Dragonpit. You had watched their departure from your place in the procession, the pride in your heart tempered only by the unease that curled in your stomach at the sight of the Red Keep growing closer.

But there was no grand welcoming party waiting for the Lannisters at the castle gates—no trumpets, no banners, no eager retainers to greet the Lord of Casterly Rock and his kin. Only silence and the faint shuffle of armored boots as the gates were opened to admit your family.

Jason, riding at the head of the procession, pulled his horse to a stop just inside the courtyard, his eyes sweeping over the near-empty space. His cloak billowed faintly behind him as he turned to you, his smirk edged with derision. “Well, isn’t this a fine welcome?”

You reined in your horse beside him, your gaze narrowing as you surveyed the quiet courtyard. The banners had changed since your last visit—gone were the familiar black and red of House Targaryen, replaced now with great tapestries bearing the seven-pointed star of the Faith. Even the once-proud dragon motifs carved into the stone had been covered or replaced, their absence a pointed declaration.

Jason’s smirk turned sharper as he gestured toward the nearest tapestry, his voice loud enough to carry to his retinue. “I see they’ve redecorated.”

Before you could reply, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the courtyard. Turning your head, you spotted Lord Tyland Lannister emerging from one of the archways, his stern features set into a practiced expression of calm. Clad in a finely tailored doublet of crimson and gold, Jason’s younger twin moved toward you with an air of formality, his hands clasped neatly behind his back.

“Brother,” Jason called out as Tyland approached. “Is this how the capital greets its honored guests these days? I’m almost offended.”

Tyland’s lips quirked faintly in what could barely pass as a smile. “Jason,” he replied smoothly, inclining his head in greeting. “Sister,” he added with a respectful nod toward you. His gaze flickered briefly to the carriages where the younger children waited and then to the Lannister guards standing silently behind them.

“You’re late, Tyland,” Jason said pointedly, though his tone carried more amusement than genuine frustration. “Were you waylaid by prayers on your way here?”

Tyland’s expression did not change, though his eyes flicked toward the seven-pointed stars adorning the keep. “You’ll find the tone of the castle has… shifted since your last visit,” he said carefully. “The queen holds great influence now.”

Jason snorted softly, glancing back at the changes with unconcealed disdain. “So I see. The dragons replaced with stars, and the halls no doubt filled with sermons instead of songs. Tell me, did they set fire to the throne room as well, or is it still intact?”

Tyland shot him a sharp look, though his voice remained measured. “Viserys still sits the throne, though he is confined to his chambers for the most part. The king’s health has worsened… greatly.”

You frowned, leaning slightly forward in your saddle. “How bad is it?”

Tyland’s gaze shifted to you, and for the first time, his composure faltered ever so slightly. “He is bedridden, sister. The maesters keep him on milk of the poppy to dull his pain. He is lucid… at times.”

A hush settled over the courtyard at those words, broken only by the faint rustle of banners fluttering in the breeze. You glanced toward Jason, whose expression had darkened, the usual smugness in his features replaced by something colder.

“And what of Rhaenyra?” you asked quietly, your tone carefully even. “Has she not yet arrived?”

“Not yet,” Tyland replied, folding his hands once more behind his back. “Princess Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon, and their household are expected within the next day or so. Lord Vaemond Velaryon has yet to arrive as well, though word has come that he draws close. Princess Rhaenys sails with him.”

Jason exhaled through his nose, his green eyes narrowing. “Of course. I imagine Alicent and her father are already preparing their prayers and petitions.”

Tyland’s gaze flickered briefly toward the keep, his silence enough of an answer. Jason laughed dryly, though there was little humor in it as he dismounted his horse. “Well, come then,” he said briskly, turning to his men and gesturing for the carriages to follow. “Let us find our quarters before someone mistakes us for heathens and throws us out.”

You followed his lead, dismounting with a quiet sigh as Tyland fell into step beside you. “The queen is expecting you,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “She will wish to speak.”

You shot him a sharp look. “Let her wait.”

Tyland inclined his head slightly, though there was a hint of unease in his gaze. “Be careful, sister,” he murmured. “The court is… it changed. This is no longer the King’s Landing you remember.”

Jason, overhearing as he adjusted his cloak, shot Tyland a look of mock surprise. “Are we in danger, brother? Should I ready my sword?”

Tyland arched a brow, unimpressed. “Mock all you wish, Jason, but I do not exaggerate.”

Jason waved a hand dismissively as he turned back toward you, offering his arm. “Come, wife. Let’s not keep the stars waiting. If we’re lucky, they’ll bless us before the night is through.”

You shook your head, linking your arm with his as the two of you made your way toward the towering gates of the Red Keep. Behind you, the younger children were helped down from the carriages, their excited murmurs filling the quiet courtyard as they were greeted by retainers and servants. Tyland lingered a moment longer before following, his expression unreadable.

As you stepped into the familiar stone halls of the castle, the weight of the place settled heavily around you. The dragon motifs that had once marked every wall and archway were gone, replaced now with austere symbols of the Faith. The air itself felt colder, the silence heavier, as though the life had been slowly drained from the keep.

Jason’s voice broke the quiet as he glanced around, his lips curling faintly. “It feels more like a sept than a castle,” he muttered, his words echoing softly off the stone. “The queen’s work, no doubt.”

You didn’t reply, your gaze fixed ahead as you walked deeper into the keep. Whatever games awaited you in King’s Landing, you could feel them already beginning to unfurl around you—threads of dread weaving together in ways that you knew would soon tighten.

The doors to your childhood chambers were opened with a creak, and the familiar sight met your eyes. The room had been untouched since your last visit—spacious and richly adorned, though in a quieter, more intimate way than the rest of the Red Keep. The bed still stood draped in heavy silken curtains, embroidered with dragons in silver and black thread. The windows were open, letting in the fading light of day, the amber glow spilling across the stone floor. A faint breeze carried with it the faint smells of the city—salt, smoke, and life.

Jason followed you inside, his steps echoing lightly behind yours. As you moved to remove your gloves, your gaze lingered on the carved dragons above the fireplace. “Alicent will fume,” you said suddenly, your voice soft but edged with dry amusement. “She expects her summons to be heeded, not ignored.”

Jason, who had taken his time shutting the doors with deliberate ease, only smirked as he turned to face you. “Let her fume,” he replied casually, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “I’ve always found the queen’s righteous anger quite… tedious. Besides, I rather enjoy ignoring her.”

You shot him a pointed look, though his smirk widened as his eyes swept over you—assessing, lingering, as though distracted by something far more captivating than court politics.

“Jason—” you began, already sensing the shift in his demeanor, but you had no time to protest. In a single stride, he had crossed the chamber and taken your hand, pulling you toward him. His grip was firm but gentle, his fingers threading with yours as he stared down at you, his gaze smoldering with usual mischief and something far deeper.

“You looked radiant today,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, velvety tone that always made your pulse quicken. “The stars in this cursed keep can’t hold a candle to you.”

You narrowed your eyes faintly, though heat crept up your neck. “You’re avoiding the matter at hand.”

“And you’re avoiding me,” Jason countered smoothly, tilting his head slightly. His gaze dropped to your lips, and his voice dipped lower still. “Tell me, wife—are you going to let your childhood ghosts get in the way of this?”

“Jason,” you warned softly, though your words were already losing their edge as he leaned closer, his hand sliding to rest at the small of your back. Before you could manage another word, his lips were on yours—insistent, hungry, as though the days spent traveling here had been nothing but torture for him.

You gasped into the kiss, your hands pressing against his chest out of sheer reflex, but Jason paid no mind. He deepened the kiss, his arm curling around you as he pulled you firmly against him, the warmth of his body searing through the fabric of your gown. A shiver ran down your spine as his other hand slid up to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“Jason—” you tried again, breaking the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, but he silenced you with another kiss, this one slower, deeper, and more possessive. You felt the tension in his touch, the heat of it threatening to consume you entirely.

He finally pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breathing uneven. “You’re thinking about her,” he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement. “Stop it. I want you to think about me, and me alone.”

You let out a soft laugh, breathless and exasperated. “You always do this.”

“And yet, you adore me for it,” he teased, brushing another kiss to the corner of your mouth. His fingers moved swiftly, already beginning to tug at the laces of your gown. “We’ve been patient for far too long, wife. I don’t intend to waste another moment.”

Before you could protest, Jason swept you toward the bed, his hands deft as he made short work of your bodice, pulling you into his arms again. His kisses trailed along your jaw, down your neck, and heat pooled deep within you at the way his touch set your nerves aflame.

But just as the world around you began to blur into a haze of fire and longing, the sound of the chamber doors opening with a jarring creak tore through the air.

“My lady—”

“Seven bloody hells!” Jason growled, turning sharply to glare at the door, his body still half-draped over yours. Ser Criston Cole stood just inside the threshold, his face immediately darkening as he registered the scene before him—your partially unlaced gown, Jason’s disheveled state, and the flush that had crept up your cheeks.

Behind Criston, Queen Alicent stepped into view, her face a mask of stern disapproval. Her green gown billowed faintly around her as she moved into the chamber, her sharp gaze falling on you before sliding to Jason, who looked entirely unrepentant despite the compromising position.

“Lord Jason,” Alicent began, her voice clipped and cold. “I summoned you—”

“And I ignored you,” Jason interrupted, his tone as smug as ever as he straightened to his full height, though his hand remained firmly on your waist. “Is it not customary to knock before barging into a man’s chambers? Or does the queen find pleasure in interrupting marital affairs?”

Alicent’s lips pressed into a thin line, her composure threatening to crack as her gaze darted between the two of you. “This is not the time for insolence, Lord Jason.”

“Forgive me,” Jason said, though his tone dripped with sarcasm. He gestured broadly toward the bed with a smirk. “But as you can see, my attentions were already occupied. If you have urgent matters of state, you should have sent a raven instead.”

You shot him a look, your face still flushed as you began lacing your gown back up. “Jason,” you murmured under your breath, though your voice held little conviction.

Alicent’s gaze turned icy as she addressed you directly. “I had hoped you might show better judgment, Princess. The king’s court does not take kindly to such… impropriety.”

Jason scoffed loudly, stepping in front of you with deliberate intent. “Spare me your lectures, Your Grace. If you’ve come to scold us like unruly children, you’ll find little satisfaction here.”

Criston shifted uncomfortably at Alicent’s side, his hand resting instinctively on the pommel of his sword, though he made no move to speak. Alicent’s eyes narrowed dangerously, her frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “Lord Jason,” she said tightly, “this court demands respect.”

“And respect must be earned,” Jason countered, his voice hardening as he met her gaze without flinching. “Tell me, is this about respect, or are you simply still cross about what happened with my daughter? Because let me assure you—no one forgets the harm done to a Lannister.”

A heavy silence fell over the room, and you rose to your feet now, stepping to Jason’s side as you placed a calming hand on his arm. “That’s enough, Jason,” you said quietly, though your voice carried an edge of steel.

Alicent’s expression remained unreadable, though her gaze lingered on you with thinly veiled disdain. “The Hand expects your presence tomorrow. I suggest you both remember your place.”

With that, she turned sharply on her heel, sweeping from the chamber with Ser Criston following close behind. The doors shut heavily behind them, leaving you and Jason standing in the sudden silence.

Jason let out a breath, running a hand through his golden hair before turning to you with a grin that was equal parts exasperated and amused. “Well,” he muttered dryly, “I suppose that could have gone better.”

You sighed, shaking your head as you moved to finish lacing your gown. “You enjoy provoking her, don’t you?”

Jason smirked, stepping closer to brush a kiss to your temple. “She makes it far too easy, my love.”

“And what of Otto?” you asked softly, your gaze flickering toward the closed door. “We’ll have to face him tomorrow.”

Jason’s expression softened slightly, though his roguish grin never faltered. “Then we’ll face him together,” he said simply, his voice steady. “The Lannisters do not cower—not for queens, nor for their fathers.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. “Let’s just try to avoid another spectacle, shall we?”

Jason grinned, his hand brushing your waist as he leaned in once more. “Where’s the fun in that, wife?”

The sun was beginning to set over the Red Keep’s courtyard. The air was filled with the hum of quiet conversation and the curious glances of courtiers who lingered, watching the arrival of House Lannister with open intrigue. Servants hurried past with bowed heads, while guards shifted uncomfortably on their feet, their hands idly resting on sword pommels. The whole of the Keep seemed to hold its breath.

Leona and Loren walked side by side, their steps measured and slow, though there was nothing hesitant about the way they carried themselves. As always, they were a striking pair. Loren moved with the composed grace of their father—head held high, shoulders squared, his curls catching the light like a crown. Beside him, Leona strode with quiet purpose, her scarred face hidden behind the finely crafted mask you had commissioned. The intricate details shone in the sun—delicate and strong, like the girl beneath it. Her long crimson cloak swayed behind her, the lions and dragons embroidered into her sleeves catching the eye of every onlooker.

The murmurs that followed them were barely hushed—whispers of admiration, curiosity, and speculation.

“Are those the twins of the Rock?”

“Dragonriders, I hear—riding beasts hatched from their mother’s dragon.”

“The scarred girl, Leona—some say the wound is a mark of her pride.”

“Lannisters here, in such times… who knows what they mean to do?”

Leona paid the whispers no mind, her violet gaze sweeping over the courtyard with the calm sharpness she had inherited from her mother. Loren, however, smirked faintly, though his voice carried a note of dry amusement as he murmured to her.

“You’d think we’d just been crowned ourselves,” he said, eyes flicking to a group of gawking courtiers who immediately looked away. “Father was right, you know. The whole of King’s Landing is waiting for House Lannister to save them.”

Leona glanced at him from behind her mask, her lips twitching faintly at the corner. “Is that what he said?”

Loren nodded, his voice dropping into an imitation of Jason Lannister’s confident drawl. “‘The West shall bring certainty where there is none. The realm needs lions to cut through the chaos.’” Loren’s smirk returned as he shook his head. “Father does enjoy the sound of his own words.”

Leona gave a small, quiet laugh, though it was tinged with thoughtfulness. “They aren’t entirely wrong. Aunt Rhaenyra’s claim has divided the realm, and the king—” Her words faltered briefly before she finished, “—he won’t live forever.”

Loren’s expression darkened slightly at that. “And when the time comes, the West will need to choose.” He looked at her, his tone serious now. “Father speaks with such certainty, but even he knows that war waits just over the horizon.”

Leona was silent for a long moment, her gaze turning toward the looming towers of the Keep. The sun caught her mask again, and for all her quiet strength, there was something thoughtful—something distant—in the way she stared ahead. “Then we’ll make sure the lions roar loud enough to be heard on both sides of the realm,” she said softly.

Their quiet conversation was suddenly interrupted by the sound of slow, purposeful footsteps approaching them from across the courtyard. Loren turned his head first, his expression sharpening as he recognized who it was.

“Speak of war and here comes the prince,” Loren muttered under his breath.

Prince Aegon Targaryen strode toward them with an air of lazy confidence, as if he were simply wandering rather than seeking anyone out. His platinum hair fell in loose waves around his shoulders, the sun reflecting off it in a pale glow. He was clad in rich green and gold finery, his cloak clasped with a dragon pin at the shoulder. The faint smirk he wore hinted at amusement, though his violet eyes were sharp—too sharp, perhaps—as they lingered on Leona and Loren.

“Twins of the Rock,” Aegon drawled, his voice dripping with casual mockery as he stopped a few paces away. “King’s Landing grows brighter with all your splendor.”

Loren, always his father’s son, inclined his head just slightly, his smile polite but cool. “We aim to please, Your Grace.”

Leona said nothing, her masked face tilting slightly as she regarded Aegon with her sharp, unblinking gaze. If Aegon noticed her silence, he gave no sign of it. His attention lingered on her longer than necessary, his violet eyes flickering over the mask and the rich crimson of her cloak. When he finally spoke again, his tone was quieter but edged with something unreadable.

“You’ve grown since last we saw each other, Leona,” he said, almost offhandedly. “Stronger, I imagine.”

Leona tilted her head slightly, her voice even as she replied, “And yet you remain unchanged, Prince Aegon.”

The response caught Loren by surprise, and his smirk widened into something far less polite. Aegon, however, let out a soft huff of amusement, as if impressed. “Sharp-tongued lions. I should have expected no less from my half-sister’s children.”

He lingered for only a moment more, his gaze lingering on Leona once again before he turned and began to walk away with that same easy, languid stride.

Loren watched him go, his smirk lingering as he leaned toward his sister. “Well, that was charming,” he muttered under his breath. “You’ve clearly made an impression on him.”

Leona did not turn to watch Aegon’s retreating figure, though her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ve no care for the prince’s impressions,” she said curtly.

Loren snorted softly, though his voice carried an edge of warning now. “Perhaps not, but men like Aegon are never without motive.” He glanced at her golden mask, his tone softening. “You know that, don’t you?”

Leona turned her head just slightly to look at him. For all the emotion her mask concealed, there was something steely in her posture. “I know,” she replied simply.

The courtyard had begun to settle once more, the gawking courtiers gradually turning their attention elsewhere. Loren placed a reassuring hand on his sister’s arm, his tone shifting into something lighter. “Come, let’s find the others. You know how Father is—he’ll have half the Red Keep turned upside down if we’re late.”

Leona nodded faintly, allowing Loren to guide her toward the inner halls. But as they walked, her thoughts lingered on Aegon—on his words, his lingering gaze, and the unease it left behind.

The younger Lannister children moved through the vast corridors of the Red Keep with the lively shuffle of a small parade. At the front of the group was Aemma, composed as ever, with her chin tilted slightly upward in the poised manner she had learned from her mother. Behind her walked Tyland and Daena, who whispered conspiratorially to one another, their soft giggles punctuating the otherwise solemn air. Rhaegel and Rhaelle, the youngest twins, were walking along, their small hands held carefully by a pair of Lannister servants.

Leading the way were a mix of stern-faced servants from House Lannister and the Red Keep, the latter keeping a watchful eye as though uncertain what mischief might arise from the group. The younger children seemed entirely unbothered by the hushed whispers they passed, the occasional courtier peeking around corners to catch a glimpse of the “golden brood” that had returned to King’s Landing.

“Do you think the gardens here have butterflies?” Daena whispered excitedly to her brother Tyland, her small fingers tugging at his sleeve. “The ones at home are prettier, but maybe they’ll have more here.”

Tyland shrugged, his expression exasperated. “Why do you always care about butterflies? I’d rather see the training yard. Father said they’ve swords made of Valyrian steel here.”

“You only want to hit things,” Daena shot back, wrinkling her nose. “Butterflies don’t fight.”

“They would if they could,” Tyland muttered with a smirk, earning a dramatic sigh from his sister.

Aemma cast a sharp look over her shoulder, her tone calm but firm. “Stop bickering. You’re embarrassing us.”

Daena huffed, though she obeyed, while Tyland rolled his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like Leona,” he muttered under his breath.

“Good,” Aemma replied smoothly. “She’d say the same.”

As they rounded a corner, the group passed a lone figure standing near one of the tall windows, his presence almost hidden in the dim light. Aemond Targaryen stood with his arms clasped behind his back, his pale silver hair catching the soft glow of the sun. His eye—one of vibrant violet—flickered subtly over the children as they moved past, his gaze lingering on Aemma for a heartbeat longer than the others.

Aemma ignored him entirely, her amber eyes fixed forward with practiced determination, though a slight wrinkle appeared between her brows. She strode forward with an air of quiet authority, her hand lightly guiding her youngest siblings onward as they passed. If she noticed Aemond’s lingering look, she gave no sign of it.

Aemond tilted his head slightly, a faint, unreadable smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched her disappear down the hall.

“You’re staring, uncle.”

The voice broke the quiet, sharp and cool, as Leona and Loren stepped into view from the opposite end of the corridor. Their arrival seemed to cut through the air like a blade—their presence commanding as they approached.

Aemond turned slowly to face them, his smirk fading into something more guarded. “I greet you, Leona. Loren.”

Leona inclined her head just slightly, though her posture remained rigid and unwavering. “Aemond,” she replied curtly, her voice as cool as her tone. Beside her, Loren studied Aemond with a gaze that was less hostile but no less watchful.

A tense silence settled between the three, though it was Aemond who broke it first. His eye flickered toward Leona’s mask, lingering there for a moment longer than was polite before meeting her gaze. “I see you’ve come armored for war.”

Leona tilted her head slightly, the faintest edge of amusement lacing her tone. “Better to be armored than to leave oneself vulnerable.”

Aemond’s lips curled into a faint smirk, though it lacked true warmth. “And do you intend to go to war, cousin? I imagine your father would rather fill the throne room with gold than swords.”

Loren stepped forward then, his smile sharp but charming in that distinctly Lannister way. “You sound disappointed, Aemond,” he said, his tone edged with mock curiosity. “Would you prefer we come to blows? I’d hate to think you miss the days of chaos.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed slightly, though he said nothing for a moment. Instead, he returned his gaze to Leona, the tension crackling faintly between them like a spark waiting for flame. “It seems the lions have claws after all.”

Leona met his stare evenly, unflinching. “And dragons do not frighten us, cousin,” she said softly, the weight of her words settling heavily in the space between them.

Loren’s smile widened slightly at that, though he said nothing, content to let his sister’s words linger. Aemond, for his part, said no more. Instead, he gave a faint incline of his head—a gesture that was neither submission nor concession—before stepping back into the shadows.

“Welcome back to the Red Keep,” he said finally, his voice low but laced with meaning. “I imagine we’ll be seeing more of one another.”

Without waiting for a reply, Aemond turned on his heel and strode away down the corridor, his presence fading like smoke.

The once bustling corridors, where servants bustled and lords whispered, now seemed cloaked in silence. Even the walls felt colder, the familiar warmth of home long since replaced by the stiff air of piety and dread. Jason walked ahead, his steps purposeful, the rich cloak of Lannister pride trailing behind him. At his side, you moved with quiet grace.

Behind you, Leona and Loren followed. Leona’s mask of golden filigree caught the light, her scar hidden but still remembered in every tilt of her head. Loren walked protectively beside her, his dark gaze stern, always watching. Aemma trailed between them, her smaller hand nestled in Loren’s palm, her curls bouncing as she tried to keep up.

As you neared the king’s chambers, the scent of smoke and milk of the poppy hung thick in the air. The guards outside gave you wary nods before pulling open the heavy doors. Jason strode through first, his chin high, ever the lion of Casterly Rock.

Inside, the room was dim, the heavy curtains drawn to block out most of the light. Candles flickered in uneven clusters, their wax pooling across the tabletops. The sharp, acrid scent of medicines lingered, mingling with the faint odor of decay that clung to the air.

King Viserys Targaryen lay propped up in his great bed, though the man before you now was only a shadow of the king you once knew. His once-strong form had withered, and his face was gaunt, half-hidden beneath bandages that covered the ruined side of his face. His breathing came ragged and uneven, though his remaining eye brightened faintly as he turned his head at the sound of your approach.

“Father,” you murmured softly, breaking the silence as you stepped forward. Your voice, though steady, held a note of quiet grief as you took in his frail form.

Viserys’s lips curled into a weak smile, and he reached a trembling hand out toward you. “Y/N… my daughter,” he rasped, his voice hoarse but thick with affection. “Come… come closer.”

Jason placed a steadying hand at your back as you stepped forward, lowering yourself to kneel gently at the side of Viserys’s bed. You took his frail hand into your own, cradling it carefully.

“It’s been too long,” you said softly. “We came as soon as we received word.”

Viserys’s eye flickered up to Jason then, and despite his state, his smile grew. “The lion… of the Rock,” he said, his tone light despite his weakness. “You’ve come back to torment me with your boasts, no doubt.”

Jason chuckled, though there was an unusual gentleness in his voice. “Would you expect any less, Your Grace?” he said, stepping closer and inclining his head respectfully. “But I’ve brought you something far better than my arrogance today.”

He stepped aside to allow the twins and Aemma to come forward. Loren offered his grandsire a respectful nod, while Leona approached carefully, her masked face angled downward with reverence. Little Aemma clutched her hands together, her wide violet eyes filled with curiosity and caution.

“Your grandchildren,” you said quietly, gesturing toward them. “Leona and Loren have grown into fine young lions, and little Aemma has missed her grandsire dearly.”

Viserys’s gaze settled on Leona first, lingering on the glint of her golden mask. A faint shadow of pain passed across his face, but he smiled faintly all the same. “Leona,” he murmured, his voice soft. “You’ve grown strong, my girl. Fierce as the dragons your blood shares.”

Leona dipped her head slightly, her voice calm but steady. “I ride for House Lannister and House Targaryen, grandsire. I am proud to carry both.”

Viserys’s smile trembled slightly, and he turned his gaze to Loren. “And you, Loren. Your father’s pride is evident in you. The West has its strength in you both.”

Loren nodded, his voice low and respectful. “We’ll not falter, Your Grace.”

Finally, Viserys’s eye settled on Aemma, and for a moment, a new light seemed to flicker within him. “Little Aemma…” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “You look… so much like her.”

Aemma blinked, tilting her head curiously. “Like who, grandsire?”

Viserys’s gaze grew distant, the faintest hint of tears welling in his eye. “Like your namesake. My queen. My Aemma.” He turned to look at you, his trembling fingers brushing against your hand once more. “She is a gift… all of them. You have done well, my daughter.”

You nodded softly, though a lump formed in your throat as you watched him. “They are our pride, Father.”

Jason, unable to keep himself entirely silent, added lightly, “The pride of the West and the dragons’ fire combined, Your Grace. The realm is stronger for it.”

Viserys gave a faint, wheezing laugh, though it turned into a cough that shook his frail form. You pressed your hand gently against his, concern flickering across your face.

“Rest, Father,” you said softly. “You need your strength.”

Viserys looked at you fondly, his eye softening. “It brings me peace… to see you here. All of you.” He turned back to the twins, his voice lowering to a whisper as if imparting a secret. “Remember who you are, my loves. Blood of dragons. Strength of lions. You will endure.”

Leona and Loren stepped closer, bowing their heads as their grandsire’s hand trembled. “We will,” Loren said firmly, his voice carrying the quiet conviction of someone older than his years.

“Always,” Leona added softly.

Jason watched the exchange with an expression somewhere between pride and melancholy, though he quickly masked it with his usual confidence. He stepped closer to you, placing his hand lightly at your shoulder. “Come, my love. The king needs his rest.”

You hesitated for a moment, unwilling to let go of Viserys’s hand, but you knew Jason was right. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your father’s forehead. “We’ll return tomorrow, Father. Rest now.”

Viserys smiled faintly, his breathing slowing as he sank back into the cushions. “Tomorrow,” he murmured, as though it were a promise.

As you stood, Jason’s hand lingering at your back, you glanced once more at the frail form of your father—the man who had once been so strong, now reduced to skin, bone, and pain. Your heart ached, but you forced yourself to keep your composure.

Leona and Loren bowed once more before stepping back, flanking little Aemma as the three children moved toward the door. Jason lingered just a moment longer, his green eyes flickering with something softer as he regarded Viserys.

“Rest easy, Your Grace,” Jason said quietly. “Your daughter and I will see to the future.”

Viserys’s lips twitched faintly, though his eyes had already begun to flutter shut.

The heavy doors closed behind you with a soft thud, and the silence of the hallway felt deafening after the stillness of the chamber. Jason exhaled softly, his arm slipping around your waist as you walked.

“He looks…” Loren began, but he trailed off, unable to finish.

“Like a ghost,” Leona whispered, her voice heavy.

You nodded faintly, your voice low as you said, “He is still our king. Your grandsire deserves your love and respect.”

Jason, walking beside you, muttered softly, “And yet they let him rot, surrounded by shadows and leeches.” He cast a dark glance down the hall. “The Hightowers should be ashamed.”

You placed a hand gently on his arm, shaking your head. “Not now, Jason. Not here.”

Jason sighed but said nothing, his arm tightening protectively around you as you walked. Behind you, Leona, Loren, and Aemma followed in silence, the weight of their visit pressing heavy on all of you.

And as the doors to the king’s chamber remained shut, you could not help but feel that time was slipping away faster than ever—that Viserys, the rock of your childhood, would not remain for much longer.

The next day dawned clear and bright, though the atmosphere within the Red Keep remained far from serene. The sunlight streamed into the Hand’s chambers, pooling across the polished table where Jason Lannister sat, his posture relaxed yet deliberate as he leaned back in the high-backed chair. Beside him, you sat poised, your expression composed and unreadable. Across from you both sat Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, his demeanor as cold and calculated as ever.

The chamber was a stiflingly quiet place, heavy with the distant noise of the keep below. Jason’s green eyes glimmered faintly with irritation, though his lips curled into an almost mocking smile as he watched Otto carefully. You could feel the animosity rising, though your husband’s nonchalant air barely faltered.

“Summoning me like a wayward squire,” Jason drawled, his tone rich with sarcasm. “I hope you have a worthy reason, Lord Otto, for pulling me from my morning wine.”

Otto’s fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the table, his expression unmoved by Jason’s barb. “The matters I wish to discuss, Lord Jason, are of considerable importance. For the stability of the realm.”

Jason lifted a brow, exchanging a brief glance with you. “Is that so? The realm must be in dire need if its Hand must court the lions so early in the day.”

Otto ignored the taunt and straightened slightly, his measured gaze falling on you before returning to Jason. “You are a man of great influence, my lord. The Westerlands have always been vital to the crown—gold, steel, and steadfast loyalty. I would see that relationship strengthened further.”

Jason smirked, though the sharp edge in his voice was unmistakable. “And what does your lordship propose? Speak plainly, for I’ve no love of riddles.”

Otto exhaled softly, as though indulging a child’s impatience. “A match,” he said simply, his tone crisp and unwavering. “Between your daughter, Lady Aemma, and Prince Aemond.”

The words settled in the air like a blade being unsheathed. Jason’s easy smile faltered for the briefest of moments before returning—only this time, it was colder. He leaned forward slightly, placing his hands deliberately on the table. “A match?” he repeated, his voice laced with disbelief and quiet ire. “Between my daughter and the boy who cost Leona half her face?”

Otto’s face remained impassive, though his jaw tightened faintly. “What occurred between the children was… regrettable. But alliances forged through marriages heal old wounds.”

Jason barked out a short laugh, though there was no mirth in it. “Heal old wounds? Is that what you think this will do? Aemond maimed my eldest daughter, and now you want me to hand another of my girls over to him as though the scars mean nothing?”

“Lord Jason—”

“No,” Jason cut him off sharply, his voice dropping dangerously low. “You mistake me for a fool, Otto. I’ve no desire to tie my bloodline to yours—least of all through Aemma.”

“Surely you see the wisdom of this,” Otto pressed, his voice harder now. “It would unite your house with the crown, solidifying your position as an ally to the king. The Westerlands would—”

Jason slammed his hand onto the table, the sound reverberating through the chamber like the crack of a whip. “The Westerlands are not yours to bargain with, Lord Otto,” he snarled, his green eyes flashing dangerously. “Nor are my daughters pawns for you to play. I’ve tolerated much from House Hightower, but I’ll be damned before I let you sink your claws into my family.”

You reached out discreetly, your hand brushing Jason’s wrist in a calming gesture. He glanced briefly at you, exhaling through his nose, though his ire did not fade.

Otto’s voice was colder now, his mask of patience beginning to slip. “You tread dangerous ground, Lord Jason. This is an opportunity—one that many other houses would be glad to seize.”

Jason leaned back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh, as though bored of the conversation already. “If other houses are so eager, perhaps you should go knocking on their doors instead. The lions of the West will not be so easily swayed.”

Otto opened his mouth to reply, but Jason held up a hand to stop him, his tone darkening. “And let me make myself clear, Lord Otto. If you press this matter further—if you even so much as hint at a claim over my children again—there will be consequences.”

Otto narrowed his eyes. “Are you threatening me, Lord Lannister?”

Jason smiled sharply, the look of a predator baring its teeth. “A promise, not a threat. Should you test me, I will ensure the flow of gold from the Westerlands slows to a trickle. No gold, no coin, and no kingdom. You’ll find it difficult to wage your little wars without Lannister gold lining your coffers.”

Otto’s face darkened at that, the flicker of anger evident despite his attempt to mask it. “You would dare defy the crown?”

“I would dare protect my family,” Jason shot back, his voice cool and unyielding. “Your House may wear the crown now, but remember this, Otto Hightower—gold crowns kings and feeds armies. You would do well not to forget it.”

The silence that followed was sharp, the anxiety in the room almost suffocating. You could see the faint twitch of Otto’s jaw as he fought to rein in his temper, his gaze flickering between you and Jason.

“Very well,” Otto said finally, his tone clipped. “I see you will not be moved. But consider this carefully, Lord Jason. The day may come when the crown’s favor will mean far more than your stubborn pride.”

Jason pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, towering over the Hand with that unmistakable Lannister arrogance. “Let that day come,” he replied, his voice low and final. “And when it does, you’ll find the lions of the West waiting with teeth bared and claws unsheathed.”

With that, Jason turned to you, offering his arm as though they had just concluded a pleasant visit. “Shall we, my love? I tire of this room.”

You rose gracefully, taking his arm with practiced poise as you offered Otto a fleeting glance. The Hand’s face was a storm of thinly veiled anger, though he said nothing more as you exited the chambers.

As the heavy doors closed behind you, Jason let out a soft, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “The gall of that man.”

“He will not stop,” you murmured quietly, your voice low as you glanced up at him. “You’ve humiliated him, and he doesn’t forget slights easily.”

Jason’s expression hardened as he guided you down the hall. “Then let him remember it well,” he said darkly. “The West is not his to control. He’ll learn that soon enough.”

You squeezed his arm gently, though the unease in your chest lingered. The game in King’s Landing had grown far more dangerous, and you both knew the Hand would not forgive Jason’s defiance. The only question that remained was what Otto Hightower would do next—and how soon the lions would need to bare their claws once more.

[itslouisan]

((@leticiachaos on twitter))

Time for Q!Tallulah headcannons!!

Fair warning: this post has mentions of depression, abandonment issues, trust issues, poor living conditions; all of the mentions of Wilbur are ONLY mentions to his character not the real person.

• Due to her abandonment and trust issues, Tallulah created a tough and cold exterior not opening herself to anything new, but, if you manage to break the shell, she's sweet, caring, loyal, nice, creative, the loveliest egg possible

• She likes Richas, but has jealousy, after all he came AFTER her and still has most of the island around him and ADOPTING HIM??? While SHE had to ground herself to an empty promise of a returning loving father and feeling alone most of the time "without" a "real" family to comfort her.

• Due to her time in the attic Tallulah developed anemia due to not having for a long time the necessary nutrients and surviving off of dirt.

• She hates the smell of moss, dirt and related things despite loving botany due to her time in the attic

Black: depression, extreme anger, sorrow or loneliness, it's her way of expressing she's REALLY not feeling okay

• When she finally accepted Wilbur would never come back or be the father she wished and dreamt of, she cut her hair that was long since "hair holds memories", painted her hair black since Missa is Philza's partner and is more of a father to her than Wilbur could ever be and she was tired of holding herself to a small memory instead of accepting change and happiness

• Can't really vent not because her family wouldn't listen, but because of her trust issues and before having to be the "cute innocent girl who's there for everyone" she didn't have the space to vent and put her emotions first

• She was tired of her original red beanie matching Wilbur, it was too dirty and old, deciding to pick a purple one who matched her and a few mushroom hats to express her emotions

• Each color of mushroom represent an emotion (in canon I think she only had black and purple, but I expanded it considering there's a lot more patterns and colors of mushrooms, especially in a sort of magic island)

purple: neutral, calm, it's the regular she wears all the time

Pink: love, happiness, she's feeling creative or excited over something, possibly wanting or doing stims

Blue: shows more of "little" sadness, not strong enough to be depression or despair, but just enough to show it, also can mean fear.

Red: anger, hate.

• Due to her autism, she carries a pair of headphones ALL the time as well as stim toys, comfort objects or plushies, a sketchbook she writes and draws what she's feeling to better communicate it.

• She can play maracas, flute, piano, guitar (acoustic), kalimba.

• Big fan of musicals and history, in late nights she likes to listen to Philza's stories of the old times and Chay loves his battle stories, so they share this cozy moment

• In the beginning she could only see ghosts, but with time she could see the deities. She can see and feel their emotions but can't talk with them much, she mainly can see Mumza and Rose, Rose in the sanctuary where her power is centered and stronger, Mumza all around her dad (Phil >:) ) and every time she's with the crows.

• Knows flower language to write better letters to everyone, adding a deeper meaning, sometimes saying secret stuff through the flowers and as an extra giving pretty flowers

• Tallulah sometimes paints her nails with Phil and Chayanne, every week with a different design

• When Missa is home back from his journeys, Tallulah sees how exhausted her dad is, so she speaks in spanish (their native languages) and makes him some food or brings fruit

• Before she officially forgot Wilbur whenever she would come with other residents and her siblings, Tallulah sometimes felt weak, abandoned, left behind, after all, ALL the others had their parents, had close connections, she hated it but couldn't help but feel jealous, in these situations Phil and Chayanne always reassured her the best they could that they would never leave her and that she wouldn't go back to the attic.

• Makes bracelets for her close family, always wearing one with PxTxC on her left hand (Philza, Chayanne and Tallulah), in the right one she has a TxCxR (Tallulah, Richas, Chayanne) or it could be TxCxP (Tallulah, Chayanne, Pomme) after all she doesn't hate Richas, she hates that he's immature and acts "entitled" and dramatic over his issues, but still tries her best to be a good sister to him, also loves pomme a lot!! Considering Pomme her bestie

Reminder: Tallulah is just a child in rp, children don't know how to control their emotions and in situations of abandonment, neglect and lack of a trusting bond with a caretaker, children can struggle even more with emotions, care, jealousy, trust, self-esteem etc, so don't call Tallulah "selfish" or "spoiled" she has every right to be that way after what she's been through

• Due to her depression,sometimes Tallulah can't take care of herself, spending days or weeks in bed or just not feeling like going out, or when she does she doesn't show much interest, in these cases Phil and Chayanne always cooked some nice food and drinks, went to the nests, and chatted and comforted her

• She became a great fighter after the events of pre-purgatory and purgatory, she NEEDED a tough exterior since she was without Chayanne, and that time worsened her depression severely

[lunnar-phantom2]

Ok so...I have four OCs (technically)

Karma,Mogu,Aqua and of course Lunnar

Their design is not 100% yet so they may undergo some changes in the future

And also, my English and my attention is shit, so if there is something weird, let me know and I will fix it

You are already used to Lunna and she needs no introduction

Your favorite ghost XD

Aqua (My little fishboy 🦈)

He would be something like Lunna's best (and probably the only from her perspective) friend and he may seem a bit serious but is a sweetheart

He likes ghost stories and supernatural things in general, he also likes places with lakes, rivers, etc...also he's almost like a cat lady lol

Fun fact:Aqua doesn't know yet, but he is one of several reincarnations of a dragon

Mogu (A Sakura spirit)

She's like a rescued pet for Lunna lol

Ok, ok, ok, jokes aside,in fact she was rescued by Lunna but,despite being close, I doubt that Lunna sees her as a friend

She is kind of uninterested in the world or just lazy but she can get quite excited when it comes to her tree, mushrooms or music(more like she sings)

She's probably the weakest in terms of power on the quartet due to an incident in the past,so when she leaves she's always accompanied (most by Karma)

She is an idol...or a singer...I don't know yet 🫠

Also,apirits are born from feelings, legends, abstract concepts that I don't know how to define 🫠...Anyway!And many of those who formed Mogu are related to beauty,admiration,attention...so she is a little humm...noting modest

Karma,Bad luck,Jinx (he doesn't have a name)

The bad luck spirit that is like Lunnar's big brother or uncle (Although she never agreed with tht definition)

For being a big Ner-I MEAN...A knowledge appreciator,he had a friendship with the moon (night, darkness, she doesn't have a name either) spirit who was Lunna's "stepmother" that's why the brother/uncle relationship

Most of the time he's a spirit without form, but it is more common see him as a cat or a mouse.He only started using a "human" appearance when Lunnar asked him to take care of Mogu and help her

Sometimes he seems to know more than he lets on about the moon spirit disappearance

Also, I like to say that there is something happening between Mogu And him, if you know what I mean ewe

I'm going to take this opportunity to drop a totally random fact about "Lunna's world" XD

So, I think you've probably noticed that in Halloween art, in the background, you can see the Earth, right?Well, that's because Lunna and her gang (except Aqua and sometimes Karma) actually lives on a "magical forest" on the moon 🙃

Yep,you heard right XD

Maybe I'll change this in the future (or not) but for now...It's a long story

So...who is your favorite character?🥹