#i have SO MANY thoughts about yellow/ the king

[loveaurapearl]

With Wild Life over and done with I wanted to compare Scar's alliances, except for the Bamboozlers and the Clockers because this post is long enough and I'm going to make another post just talking about them because I have SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THEM. They have so many similarities and such, but it's too much for this post and I ramble enough in this one anyways. See the post about Scar's most stable teams in the future. Anyways, Scar's other life series relationships.

Scar has always had trouble with keeping teammates in the Life series. In Third Life, Scar's only teammate was Grian and it was only because Grian felt guilty for killing Scar. The relationship only became genuine after Grian lost his first life and even then, Grian tried his best to distance himself from Scar until the battle of Dogwarts. Scar's only other friendship was Joel but even then it wasn't that deep in Third Life. Then the battle of Dogwarts happen and Scar becomes the king of the server and sways Bdubs to kill Impulse with a clock. Scar was able to do this because he knows Bdubs best, after all, Third Life was at the very end of Season 7 of Hermitcraft, and Scar's right hand man during Scar's reign as Mayor besides Cubfan was Bdubs. Bdubs and Scar were pretty much flirting during the Mayor section of the Mycliuem Resistance, but it was always clear Scar's eyes were on Cub and Grian more than Bdubs. It's why they stopped flirting after Season 7 because they realized that they only liked each other as friends. Scar also knows how to get under Bdubs skin especially since he and Bdubs decided to have a rivalry in Aqua Town during the later half of Season 7.

So then it happens, Bdubs kills BigB, the last of the house of Dogwarts, and Scar realizes that Grian is only on his second life, Grian is still yellow, and it scares him. Scar doesn't know what to do. He doesn't want Grian to win, after all it would be unfair to him and Bdubs, but on the other hand, he doesn't want to kill Grian. He loves Grian and he promised him his undying loyalty in Dogwarts. It also doesn't help that Bdubs really wants to kill Grian, but Scar doesn't want that either. After all, it would mean he would have to just be a bystander to murder. So Scar comes up with the No Kill Pass as a way to clear his conscious. And once Bdubs picks up the pass Scar is relieved enough to help Bdubs kill Grian so they are now on even terms. However, Grian is outraged by this and wants revenge. Scar then begins plotting his way to testing Bdub's loyalty and asks about the clock. After all, he has to know if Bdubs is truly on his side. Bdubs killed his only ally for that clock so Scar needs to know if now is the right time to kill Bdubs or not. So he asks over and over again, being more specific as Grian readies himself for his revenge. Then Bdubs reveals to Scar that his favorite Clock is a Nocia and this solidifies Scar's betrayal. After all in Scar's words (In a rough memory of what he said), 'No true Clock lover would prefer a Digital Clock to a Real Guine Clock'. So Scar whispers to Grian as he plots Bdubs downfall, but Grian ignores the whisper and attacks them. Scar seeing this and quickly attacks and kills Bdubs before Bdubs could kill Grian or Grian could kill Bdubs.

Grian then attacks Scar and Scar lays down his life before Grian can finish him off. Scar reveals to Grian that he learned his leason and that he should have never tried to betray Grian, after all in Scar's words, 'I only got so far because of you'. This snaps Grian out of his murderous frenzy and makes him remember that Scar is a friend and he folds. Grian never wanted Scar's life. After all, it's the reason Grian was in servitude of Scar in the first place because he killed Scar with that Creeper Prank. Grian wanted them to both be winners. And in my mind, they're both winners of Third Life and Scar is the only winner to win twice. (Scar won Third Life and Secret Life change my mind.) But, the ghosts didn't like this so the two fight in the Cactus Ring. Grian announcing to the world that he and Scar were both winners of Third Life, but only Grian being seen as the one true winner of Third Life.

Last Life, Scar tried to have an alliance with Joel but because of the Boogey Curse, he lost Joel as a friend and was left alone. The only alliance he had was with Ren but it was clear Scar didn't want to make this relationship into friendship. Grian tried to get a secret alliance with him, Mumbo, and Scar but Scar didn't buy a word that Grian meant that. After all, Grian said he would give Scar his life back after stealing it from him in the first place, then lost it by being killed by Bdubs. Scar was wary so he put a warranty on the contract. He had to test if Grian and Mumbo were truly worthy of being in the Secret Alliance. Then Grian put Scar in a box, stole the horse that Scar had in exchange for Grian stealing his life, then dangled that horse over lava in exchange for the enchanter, the one thing Scar had over the server. He later learns that Grian killed the horse and it causes Scar to revoke Grian's and Mumbo's alliance. After all, if they're going to do that to him, then they don't deserve to be secret alliances in his mind. It was only through the contracts that he tried to get friends but by then, it was too late, nobody truly wanted to be on his side and he lost his mind.

Double Life, Scar never wanted a Soulmate. He thought the idea was kind of dumb and felt like it was arbitrary, he only agreed to the deal in the first place so he could play with his friends. But then Grian joined him and Scar thought he had a friend who cared for him. Who probably thought the idea of Soulmates was dumb too. Sure Grian was the one who created the idea of the Soulmate in the first place but maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he cared enough about Scar that he didn't care about finding his soulmate. Then Scar finds out he's Grian Soulmate and he's confused. He's not sure if he and Grian should even team up together. After all, Grian didn't care about him in Last Life. But Grian insists on them being together and Scar tries to make it work. But it was clear that it never was going to work. Scar wanted to have the Jellie Pandas and Grian didn't. But Scar thinks he knows what's best for Grian and convinces himself that he'll build a Sanctuary for the Jellie Pandas for Grian. Maybe then he'll accept them and Scar. But Grian doesn't approve of the Sanctuary. Scar also puts himself in Powder Snow because of Grian's disapproval and hids the fact he did it so he wouldn't lose Grian. Grian sees this and decides to become Secret Soulmates with BigB. It also doesn't help that Grian is doing a lot of stupid stunts and Scar disapproves. Scar finds out and the Secret Soulmates and it destroys him emotionally. He tries his best but the bitterness is uncontrollable. He is then left alone without anyone and dies due to Grian's stupidity with the Warden.

I will skip Limited Life because I want to compare the Clockers and Bamboozlers at the end. Anyway, in Secret Life, Scar starts off alone, trying his best to be the best Trader in town. The only real alliance is Lizzie but even then it's only tenuous, which is funny because he will become full team member with her in the next season. He tried to be a team member with the Heart Foundation but after the trauma of Limited Life (I will explain when I get to the Clocker and Bamboozler sections.), he didn't want his heart broken again and so tried to be on his own. Then the opposite day Secret event happens and Scar loses Lizzie as an alliance the only friend Scar can turn to is Grian. Grian tries to form an alliance with Scar but Scar can't accept due to his task. Scar makes a slight alliance with the Big Dogs but only so they can leave him alone, and even then Jimmy tries to kill him. Scar tries to make it up to everyone but time and time again he is forced to be the villain and to be alone. Then Scar wins Secret Life, still believing that he has no friends, even though he had friends. They still trusted him and believed in him even after all he did, but Scar never sees this forgiveness. He just sees himself as a monster the Secret Keeper twisted him into.

[nauti-ca]

how im feeling abt 34 + some faroe au doodles

[theannoyingmosquitoinyourroom]

OMG YESSS i never even considered that!!!!!! i always thought kayne just took the king for the funzies, but ohhh the pain and feelings there would be if the king chose this fate, if he made a deal with kayne just as arthur and john did. he stooped down to their level, not knowing the consequences his actions would have, and he ended up much like john was the first time around. (this assuming i understood your musings correctly that were talking about yellow (or. well. the king))

grr and to think about all the things yellow went through, to think about all the things arthur has forced him to go through, the wys he had punished and blamed him for things he could not remember, but you still had that deep-seated dislike for him, a lingering feeling from that which you have forgotten. a pain you still carry with you (i like to imagine yellow was still in pain) but you cannot see the holes in your body anymore because now there's holes in your mind, too.

"How bad would that sting when he got his memory back? He didn't even want you. He stole from you, he broke your heart, you accepted that, maybe even acknowledged your jealousy, got a little vulnerable and you still get discarded. :(" YEAH EXACLTY!!!!! TO KNOW THAT YOU WERE IN THE SAME PLACE JOHN WAS IN AND YET ARTHUR IS STILL REJECTING HIM AND HE DOESNT KNOW WHY AND HE WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND WHY and ohhh it would be so painful if yellow got his old memories when yeeted back into the dreamlands because he is decidedly not the king anymore but he will forever hold onto the scraps of that, hoping forever that he will be able to return to what he used to be but never, never will it be like that. hes seen what john has seen and hes been rejected, the bitter taste of feeling like he was left out, like a toddler trying to play with the older kids but not being able to fit in, not understanding their throughs and views, the kids outright rejecting him and casting him out for breaking a toy out of anger.

to think that the king will remain there with himself having changed much like john has: hes occupied a new form in space, his angels are all different now, beaten and bruised, and in the foreground there's still the hole that john left, and hes still hurting and he still doesnt understand why. he still doesnt understand, and when he asked john "what did you have to offer? why does he care about you?" and john answered "because i care about him" the king does Not Get It because hes never had to care about something because hes always had everything, never never relied on anyone but himself and so hes never needed to care before, but he knows that if maybe he had stayed longer, maybe if he had just been with arthur a little longer, maybe he wouldve understood, and hes regretful hes never had the chance but also hes scared because what if he could never have that? what if he could never not hurt again? what if he could never care? what if caring is what could save him, but he is incapable of doing it? what would he even care about? he cant care about arthur, because arthur cares about john. what else could he care about that is not arthur? he doesnt know because the only other example of him out there is john and hes only been attached to arthur and so the king doesnt know of anyone else.

to my previous point: "he cant care about arthur, because arthur cares about john." we are well-aware a person can care about multiple people at once, but i like to believe that the king doesnt think that way. the only way of caring hes ever known before this is worship, and from his followers-- and theres only one being you worship to. you cannot possily split your worship between entities because that would be blasphemy and so thats the same lenses through which the king views love. one love for one singular entity, and the only entity he believed he should (and was capable of) love is arthur, but he loathes him so and also hes already given his love away to john. so who else is left for the king? who is there to teach him? and even if there was someone, the king is too proud to let himself be taught by anyone. he would 'shoot himself in the leg' and stunt his progress, and he wouldnt even realize it.

What if the King in Yellow wanted to be whole, not just for power, but bc he missed some kernel of self? What if he made choices out of fear and pain just like anyone else?

[pinkpuffballdude]

started the King in Yellow. having blorbo from my brain thoughts.

[bluerosefox]

Invites

"OMA, kill meeeee" Ellie, aka Wrath complained as she allowed her head to 'thunk' on the cafeteria table in the Watchtower she phased into in order to sit in next to a boy dressed in red, yellow, and green.

"Aren't you already halfway there?" Came Robin's response as he took a drink of his water, eyeing his teammate with a raised eyebrow, though it was difficult to tell with his mask in place.

"OMA?" Asked Superboy on the other side of the boy.

"Shush you." She said towards Robin before answering Superboy "Oh my Ancients, it's like OMG but like for us ghosties."

"Tt" "Oh!" Came both their responses.

"So..." began Superboy after a few minutes of silence between them as he looked at Ellie like a confused puppy "Why?"

Ellie groaned and just stayed slumped on the table as she said "Da's dumb Observants council is hosting another dumb ball to try to get him or me hitched again, and like always I'm forced to attend because I'm Da's heir. We both hate it with a passion, most are just stuck up, power hungry, social climbers trying to get into our pants for the royal titles... Espcially if they become our Forevermores."

"Tt, why not just get rid of them? Or simply have your Father dismiss the ball." Robin said, his eye twitching in annoyance just at the thought of it. A ball sounded even more annoying than the gala parties he is made to go to.

"Sounds stressful... Also Forevermores?" Superboy asked, he was always curious of Ellie and her ghost culture but never knew what could be asked or not, he had been warned to never ask how a ghost died after all and that question is normally asked in every ghost hunter video on the internet.

"Forevermores is our term for the ONE. The one and only we will ever be with. Till our final end takes us we are always to be with them only. We are core creatures and bonding on that level is like sacred, we don't rush into bonding like that though. But everyone in the Realms hopes to be either become mine or Da's. And the ball is their best chance at meeting us on neutral grounds." Ellie explained as best as she could for Jon, it was hard trying to explain the type of level a Forevermore was "And to answer you Robin, Da can't. The Observants, despite how annoying they can get with their dumb demands, are part of the system council for the Realms, they're sadly needed to keep things in check hence their name. Da and his friends are still trying to find a loophole to get rid of them though. They were only created when they put Tyrant King to sleep and they still sadly have some backings from other powerful ghosts in the Realms, even an Ancient or two and in order to fully dismiss them we need all Ancients on board. And the ball keeps a lot of ghosts, especially the more powerful ones, errr I guess happy? Most just use it to gossip on neutral grounds, others just like to dance, network, or other junk like that. Basically, when it's not about them trying to get mine or Da's hand in ghost marriage, it's fun so Da can't dismiss it, it'll ruffle to many feathers."

"Wow..." "Tt." Were the response from her teammates.

"Yeah. Da really isn't happy because someone suggested inviting powerful people from a few Mortal Realms this time. Somehow it got approved. So... here." She said as she reached into her own chest, phasing her hand in, and pulled out two green envelopes and placed them on the table in front of them. Both boys stared in surprise to see their names written in dark purple ink and the stylized DP on it.

"CW let me invite you guys personally. Everyone else should be getting theirs in about a few minutes complete with a blaze of green fire and spooky vibes." Ellie said with a strained smile, both happy to invite them but also dreading the questions she'll no doubt have to answer once the invites were sent.

[the-froschamethyst4]

Sharper than Steel

𖤐Pairing: Viking! König x F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Based on: viking-konig

𖤐Warnings: smut, language, fluff, P in V, dominate König, bit of an age gap, kissing/making out, arrange marriage, wife reader, mention of children, eating out, groping, public sex,

𖤐Summary: Viking König a ruthless clan leader, having a soft spot for his arranged marriage wife Y/n

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König aka King of KorTac, he was scary, heartless, cruel man or at least he was till he married his now wife Y/n.

She was a daughter of a pig farmer from another village, her parents could pay their taxes for him, so their innocent daughter became the payment instead, Y/n has been with König and the KorTac village for 5 years now, and she has never left to go see her parents in the old village.

Y/n walked in the village a small basket in her hands as she looked for food for her and her husband, König. She was looking at some apple picking out the best ones for König, he was picking they had to be a certain red, no yellow on the apples, no mushy parts, and they had to be from this one farmer because he sold the best ones.

And Y/n went to him every time König wanted apples as a desert. As Y/n was checking out the apples, a shadow loomed over her, turning she looks up.

"I'm trying to get the best for you," she says, hand on her hip, while placing a few apples into the basket and giving the farmer 3 gold coins.

"Are the red? No yellow? No mushy parts as well?"

"Are they from Farmer Luke?" She asked, looking up at her husband.

"Yeah-"

"Then, they are perfect," she tells him.

Over the years Y/n had gained to become comfortable with König, teasing him, being sassy, König didn't know this innocent, young woman, could have such a fisty and sassy side to her.

König placed his hand to his wife's back as they walked to their cabin which sat on a hill looking over the ocean and the village. König was the clan leader, he needed to know if his village was okay or not, so he build his cabin on the highest point looking over everything.

And once Y/n moved in, she changed a whole lot about the village, their shared cabin, and helping the future generation of KorTac. She build a school for the young kids, she held her own classes for the young girls, showing them how to make baskets, blankets, shoes, clothes, and many other things, but most of the girls learned how to make flower crowns instead, which didn't bother Y/n at all.

When Y/n was brought onto the KorTac island she was expecting everyone to hate her, because she was young and was with a man considered untouchable and wasn't able to love, but they loved her because she changed his mind.

Women gifted Y/n things and men treated her with respect, mainly because they didn't want to die by König. You disrespect his wife and your face will have an axe in it within seconds.

Even though Y/n and König have been together for a while, a lot of the villagers ask when will the two start having kids? König and Y/n have never really thought about having kids. Kids weren’t always on their minds, only the village and how to make it better within the years.

No kids

König looks at Y/n as he opens the door to their cabin, she sets her basket down and pulls out everything and starts putting everything in their own spots.

König goes behind Y/n putting his hands on her waist, holding her close. She smiles and looks up at him.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Oh nothing," he wanted something and it was obvious.

"König...just do it," I mean if you give him permission. König turns her around and picks her up lifting her on the table behind her. König leans forward kissing her lips.

His hands cupped her face bring her closer to the kiss, her chest against his and he smirks into the kiss, he brought her thighs up to her chest putting her into a mating press, his tongue slips past her lips and their tongue starts fighting with each other.

König then pins her down, he starts to kiss her thighs, pulling the bottom of her dress up to her waist. He licks his lips and starts to going down on her.

Licking between her wet folds, moans filled the house. König smirks kissing her folds and then his tongue goes between her folds. His tongue then flicks her bud.

He sits up and starts to aligned himself up at her entrance, he slowly pushes himself in. Y/n's head goes back hitting the wood, Y/n then looks down seeing her stomach slightly bulge with his dick inside of her.

She looks up his eyes, he leans down kissing her lips again, his hands holding her waist moving her with his motion making him also groan.

Y/n opened her arms wanting to hold König close to her body, he starts to pick up the pace a little bit. He attacks her neck earning some soft moans from her lips. Y/n then gets her fingers tangled into König's hair.

"Am I too rough?" He asks.

"No," she moans out.

König then moves her hair from her face, he kissed her temple, cheek and lips. König could feel Y/n tightening around him, he smirks and picks up the pace. Sitting up holding her waist moving Y/n fast on his dick. He smirks and felt himself twitch inside of her.

"Fuck," he cusses and looks down seeing cum leak from Y/n's lower half and he pulls out and watch the cum slowly leak from her.

"H-Holy fuck," Y/n says.

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König had cleaned up Y/n as Y/n was near the stream in the backyard washing up her body. She splashes the water on her body, she sits down on a rock and takes in the little bit of sun peaking from the leaves of the trees.

König walks out of the cabin and looks for his wife, he comes out seeing her soaking in the sun and he hears her take a deep breath and release.

"You look so fucking beautiful," he says, stripping from his clothes and joining her, his hands immediately went to her waist kissing her back. His hand cupping her breast as she lets out a soft moan.

König smirks and kissed her shoulder now. "Your skin is so so soft," he says.

"The lady that sells the smell good stuff, she sold me so...lotion? I think she called it, and now my skin is so soft," she says, touching her thighs that were the softest.

König moves his hands from her breasts down her stomach to her thighs, giving her a gentle squeeze.

"Your thighs are so soft," he says, standing up and getting in front of her now, bending down and cupping her face kissing her lips and then her jaw. "Come on...let's...get something to eat," he says.

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At the dining hall, Y/n was picking off meat from her turkey leg as König was drinking, laughing with his men, men feeling up their wives. The children of the village were sent to bed early, Y/n felt her husbands hand touching her waist pulling her closer to his side.

"You smell so good."

"Lavender," Y/n says. "It's lavender."

"I love the smell," he says, his nose buried into her neck, kissing her neck.

"K-König not here..."

"No one will pay any mind to us, meine liebe (my love), and if so...I'll kill them," he says, looking up and anyone looking at them quickly turned away from their clan leader and his wife.

König picks his wife up and swiped the plate across the table putting Y/n on the table pushing her on her back, he lifts the bottom of her dress to her waist, she quickly tried to make him stop but he didn't. he smirks up at her and kissed her thighs.

"It's okay, liebe (love)."

König then licks his lips like a wild animal, licking between her wet folds, she moans and tried her best to keep quiet but she can't help it, she's loud, and that's what König likes about her.

"S-Stop it, K-König," she begs.

"I know you don't want me to," he says smacking her thighs.

She moans and leans her head back against the table, she was scared that the people might look at her and her embarrassing state, being eaten out on the table in front of all of KorTac.

"K-König," she moans again.

König would trust his tongue in and out of her, earning soft moans and then a loud one afterwards, her fingers curled around the fabric of her dress.

Her knuckles turned white and she felt her stomach start to turn. Her eyes widened knowing the feeling, she grabs König's hair trying to pull him away to make him stop.

"S-Stop, I-I'm going t-," before she could finish her sentence she ended up coming, König smirks and licks the cum that leaked out of her.

She was embarrassed she hid her face from everyone including König, she could hear him chuckling at her, she didn't dare look at him after this moment.

"Liebe (love) come on, look at me," he begs.

She fixes herself and gets off the table and heads out of the dining hall. König's never really taken Y/n on the table in front of everyone, she had the right to be upset with him.

König turns and sees his men not looking at him, he gets up and follows Y/n. She was already almost up the hill to their home.

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That entire night, Y/n ignored König's pleas of forgiveness, she's in embarrassed humiliated. Y/n removed her dress and put on a big shirt that stopped at her mid-thighs. She gets in bed and ignores him.

"Liebe, please look at me...please...forgive me...I'll never ever do that again, I am so so sorry that I did that, I don't know what had come over me. I've never done that, and I'll never do that again, please...forgive me...I can't go to sleep knowing my wife...is mad at me," he begs.

Y/n was looking at the wall not facing him, he sits on his knees on his side of the bed, looking at her back like he was an upset puppy for pissing in the middle of the floor.

"Leave me alone," she says, closing her eyes and moving a bit closer to the wall.

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The next morning König had gone hunting, he gathered rabbit for himself and fish for Y/n. He knows Y/n hates rabbit, but will eat fish any time of the day (sorry if you don't like fish).

He starts to fix it how Y/n likes it. Speaking of Y/n, she had sat up in the bed, removing her shirt and then got dressed, she sees König fixing the food.

"Liebe, I've fixed you some fish, just the way you like it," he gives her smile but remembering what happened last night.

"No thanks," she declines.

"Y/n...you need to eat."

"Not anything from you...I have to go see the doctor now," every morning Y/n has felt sick, and she doesn't know why, some mornings she would feel sick and then an hour later would be fine for the rest of the day.

"Why are you going to the doctor?" He was worried and confused but she didn't answer him. "LIEBE!" He yells for her.

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"Now Lady Y/n, I did a few tests and after some of the answers you have given me...I think...you may be pregnant..."

"P-Pregnant?"

"Yes, ma'am, are you and King wanting children?"

"We've...never talked about children," she tells him.

"Maybe it's time to let King know."

"Shit..."

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Y/n was nervous, her and König have never talked about having children. Y/n thought maybe they should wait a while, and König is sometimes gone and will be gone for a while.

König was sharping his axe when sees Y/n coming over the hill, he stops and gets up.

"Y/n? What is going on? Are you okay?"

"Nothing-"

"Can't be nothing if you had to go see the doctor...tell me, liebe (love)."

"....I went because every morning I've felt very sick...this morning I was fine but it comes and goes, but...I'm pregnant, King..."

Silence fell between the both of them, König was stunned and didn't know what to say, he's seen that Y/n was...growing...but didn't want to offend her in anyway.

"Liebe...this is...AMAZING!!" He picked up Y/n spinning her around and kissing her lips and holding her tightly. "Oh I'm glad," he holds her tightly against his chest. "Do we know if it's going to be a boy or girl."

He started to go on and on about everything for and about the baby, all she could do was giggle at him and how ridiculous he was being but she loved him for it.

What happened last night was gone from her memory, she had to start making new memories with her husband and child the way.

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It's been a few years now (7) and now King and Y/n have 5 children together, 3 boys and and 2 girls.

König's girls were just like their mother, and his sons were a carbine copies of him.

König stood in the woods with his sons, well playing "hide 'n' seek" as he likes to call it if he can see them or find them then their enemy could see them, he was preparing them for when they would go to battle when they're older.

"I see you Felix," he says, pointing to the tree, his son was behind it. "I see you as well, Claus," he points to a puddle of mud and his son sits up in it. "Claus, go clean yourself up your mother will have a fit if she sees you like that...now...where is Leon?"

He looks around trying to find his oldest son. Leon has grown and is very good at hiding now. Leon was camouflage he had found some leaves and covered himself hiding in some bushes, mud covering his face.

"I know where you are, son," he says as he turns and saw blue eyes staring back at him.

"Dad~" He groans.

"I saw you a while ago, but I didn't want to say anything. I always find you," he says.

Leon wipes his face. "Go clean up all over you," König says.

"Oh Claus," Y/n says trying to clean her sons body. "Why did you jump in the mud?" She asked.

"I was trying to hide, mama," he says.

"Come on," she picks him up and took him to the stream to clean him up.

"Daddy, can you play with us?" His daughters rush up to him, holding flowers in their hands.

"Sure, babies," he says, picking up his second oldest daughter and taking them to the side of the house to watch them start making flower crowns. Y/n had taught them a while ago and now they do it as something natural to them.

"Daddy, here," his daughter Heidi says, giving him one with daisies, dandelions, and honeysuckle. She placed it on his head and his other daughter Emma made him a ring of a dandelion.

"King," König looks to his left seeing Nikto.

"What is it?" He asks, a bit annoyed.

"We need to get ready."

"Daddy, where are you going?" Emma asks.

"I have to go and collect money, babies," he says, he kissed the top of his daughters head and his sons come running towards him even a naked baby Claus.

"CLAUS!" Y/n yells with a towel chasing after the baby boy, she finally wraps him. "You sneaky little boy," she says, kissing his puffy cheeks and he giggles.

"Daddy is leaving, mama," Heidi says.

"Already?" Y/n asks.

"Only for a few days," he says, coming towards Y/n and cupping her face kissing her lips.

"Ewww," their children say at once.

König walks with Nikto to the docks. König was getting weird looks from his men, he was confused till he realized that he was still wearing the flower crown his daughters had made for him.

"What the hell are you looking at?" He threatens his men, who quickly shook their heads and looked away from him.

[summervale]

「Merriment」

Third-person reader insert! Y/N is the younger sister of King Robert Baratheon. Her house sigil is a stag, yes, but it seems she has a particular fondness for hounds.

Contains: Reluctant pining, kissing, mature situations Words:  2,311

UNFINISHED WORK: This was supposed to be a long, multi-part piece which is why it takes so long setting up! This was part one and is about halfway finished. Figured there's a lot of Sandor fans that might enjoy a small something cute <3

No husband and no responsibilities made for a very happy woman indeed. Small wonder she was all smiles and riddles and gayeties; she must, the commonfolk thought, be the happiest woman in all the seven kingdoms.

This was likely true.

She was forever laughing. There was a smile on her face always, it seemed, and everywhere she went she took merriment with her. Her ladyship took great pleasure in riddles and games and shows of mummers and fools, and King’s Landing had not hosted a tourney that did not have her there in the pavilions in many a year. She was a friend to all regardless of birth or station or reputation (within reason), and for this she was quite loved, but also quite resented. The resentment was paid little mind—turning a blind eye and smiling was much more fun, as it was often irksome to those who were loth to favor her.

Y/N Baratheon. Lady of Storm’s End, younger sister to Stannis and Robert, older sister to Renly. She possessed the same appetite for amity as Robert coupled with the mirth and grandeur of Renly. Of Stannis, it was said, they shared only a name. Still she insisted she adored all her brothers equally, “even the gloomy one.”

Much was afoot in King’s Landing.

King Robert had named Lord Eddard Stark new hand of the king, and Stark had arrived with a host of his own and his two daughters in tow. This was cause for celebration, and celebration was cause for a tourney, and where there was a tourney (or a celebration), Lady Y/N was to be found.

And she was found in King’s Landing quite a lot, of recent.

There was a rumor, often dubbed a vicious and untrue one, that though her house sigil may be the King's own stag, Y/N had a particular fondness for hounds.

The sun was two hours from setting when a host of black and yellow arrived at The King's Gate. In came banners that bore stags, and a spate of wagons bringing wines and cheeses and polished pears from Storm’s End. An impatient rider rode ahead of the rest, leaving behind a cry of protest as she thundered away, alone, up the streets of King’s Landing.

She arrived with a well-lathered horse and a swirl of her cloak. A party had time to gather in the yard of the Red Keep; a paltry welcoming committee with little time to prepare.

But the King was there—of course the King was there.

Had she not already been grinning, she would have grinned. “There’s my favorite brother,” said Y/N, dismounting and already forgetting her palfrey.

The look on Robert’s face was strange, though, and uncharacteristic of the Robert she knew and loved. The years had not been kind to him (as was made most evident by his growing waistline), and his face was stern, drawn into a scowl, his brow furrowed.

Is he not happy to see me? she thought even through her smiles and excitement. Gods, he looks as grim as Stannis, maybe twice as much. When she made to throw her arms about his neck, he took her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length instead.

“That’s your grace to you, woman. I am the King, or have you forgotten?”

The King’s sister opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, which was done dumbly and not unlike a fish.

The ruse was short-lived.

Robert Baratheon—King Robert Baratheon—broke into a roar of laughter like that of a bear made human. Still holding his dearest sister by the shoulders, he gave her a hearty shake. “Your face!” he boomed. “You should have seen it!”

Her smile returned, then her laughter. “You’re a fool if ever there was one, Robert!”  She threw her arms around his neck even as he shook her, and the big king lifted his little sister in his arms and hugged her so tightly, so fiercely, that the now-arriving party feared the king may crush their lady.

Robert didn’t crush Y/N, though. No, they were both used to it. “You’re crushing me, Robert,” she huffed at last, prompting the king to drop her back down onto the ground.

He clapped her on the shoulder. “Right then, let’s get inside. We have much and more to catch up on, and there’s a flagon of wine calling my name.”

“Every flagon of wine calls your name, your grace.”

The King was laughing again, then, and the King’s sister was smiling.

That, as far as the two Baratheons were concerned, was the way it always had been, and the way it always would be, until one buried the other.

Meeting the King’s party was a grand ordeal, though Y/N had already met most of the partygoers in attendance on at least one occasion. Of course she knew the Lannisters, her brother’s family by law, and she’d met Lord Eddard Stark once before. Lord Eddard’s daughters were new to her, however, and a few of the faces at court as well. Having been taught well, she recognized most of the family names and colors, smiling and shaking hands and doing all the formalities a lady should do.

The occupants of the Red Keep’s great hall that night came from houses big and small, known and unknown, and saw the attendance of lords and ladies, knights, hedge knights, bards, poets and singers, fools in their motley and mummers with their painted faces. There were cards being shuffled and dice being thrown. Serving girls brought plate after plate of selections from the kitchens: stuffed capons, wine-glazed lamb, honeyed figs, dark breads with thick crusts, sweet lemon cakes still-warm from the ovens. The courses seemed never-ending and the wine never stopped flowing.

“Never was there such a party before, brother,” declared Y/N. She lifted a gilded goblet with a flourish, and rich, purple wine splashed over the rim and down her hand. She was the picture of effortless joy.

And she knew it, too.

If she hadn’t known it, the guests would have reminded her; the way they flocked to her in throngs and yammered on and on whenever she should happen to lend an ear—which was often. Round and round she circled the crowd as the evening wore on and the wine continued to flow, searching the room for a familiar face—a face that would stand out even in the most crowded of rooms.

Her gaze passed the lords and ladies, passed the knights in their polished armor, until at last she found her mark.

Sandor Clegane, the Hound, stood near the far wall, obscured halfway in the shadows. His face was grim, as it usually was, pulled tightly into a scowl that had long since worn its lines permanently into his features. The burn scars that marred half his face were highlighted by the flickering torchlight, giving him an even more fearsome appearance.

She knew Sandor was not like the other knights, not like the men who fawned over ladies with flowery words and grand gestures. He was rough, blunt, and often downright rude.

He was the perfect change of pace.

Oft she sought him when at last she could take the rinse-and-repeat of perfumed nobility no longer. She wove through the crowd with ease, exchanging smiles and nods as she passed, until she finally stood before Sandor.

"Sandor," she greeted him plainly. “It’s been too long.”

He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. For an overly long moment, he said nothing. Then, with a grunt, he inclined his head slightly. "My lady," he replied, his voice as rough as the gravel on the King’s Road.

Y/N smiled up at him, unfazed by his gruffness. "Why do you stand here all alone?" she asked, her tone teasing. "Surely even hounds deserve a bit of merriment."

Sandor huffed, a sound that could have been a laugh if it had come from anyone else. "Merriment’s for fools," he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words.

“Forgive me, then, for it seems I’ve forgotten my motley.”

“So it seems.”

She knew he was not a man of many words, especially when it came to matters of the heart. But she also knew that, for reasons she could not fully explain, she had become someone he tolerated more than most.

Perhaps it was a royal decree by Robert unbeknownst to her. And what a royal decree that would be! The thought made her laugh aloud, which only earned her a raised eyebrow in response.

He indicated the floor from which she’d just come. "Motely or not, you should jingle along with the other fools,” he said, though his tone was less stern than usual.

"And you should be out there with your fellow dogs," said she, “but here we are."

Sandor's lips twitched as if they might have remembered how to smile for half a moment. “Surprised you’re not dancing again. It went well for you last time.”

With one sentence he had broken the façade she wore so well. Her look of smug mirth disappeared from her face in an instant and was replaced instead by one of flustered surprise.

It had been a celebration much like this one and she was deep in her cups by the time the sun had set and the dancing had begun. Y/N had been at the heart of it, twirling and dancing with little care, passing hand from one lord to another, from knight to knight, breathless and flushed and shoes long forgotten.

The next thing she knew, she was stumbling, and a moment later, toppling entirely. The ground rose up to meet her with an unpleasant wack!, and the pain in her cheek was overshadowed only by a pain in her ankle. She’d gotten too carried away and twisted something, it seemed, and hadn’t even felt it until she was picking herself back up off the ground.

Or, well, trying to pick herself back up off the ground. The usual cloud of courtiers buzzed around her in an attempt to see her upright again, but the pain in her ankle swelled red hot and angry.

A shadow passed, then, and she had looked up, her vision slightly blurred from the wine, to see Sandor Clegane’s gruff face above her. There had been no mocking grin or cold stare, just a look that might have been concern on a more expressive man. “You’re alright.”

Without another word, he had scooped her up in his arms, lifting her as if she weighed nothing at all.

Y/N had gasped, her hands instinctively clutching at his shoulders. "I can walk!" she had protested, though she hadn’t made any real effort to leave his arms.

 "Not on that ankle you can’t.”

And so she had let him carry her, through the bustling hall and up the winding stairs of the Red Keep, all the way to her chambers. It had been awkward, but it had also been…

More.

“You’re quite strong,” she said to him, which earned only a grunt of acknowledgement.

Something—something—fluttered inside of her when she saw him so close; the burned skin unevenly healed, the scruff that dusted his face, the muscle of his neck that disappeared beneath his armor where her prying eyes could not follow—but her imagination could. 

When they reached her chambers, he had set her down gently on the edge of her bed. She had looked up at him, her heart pounding in a way that had little to do with the wine. As he made to release her, she caught the back of his neck with her hand and held him there, inches from her face.

She’d expected him to break free, to pull away, to do anything else. But he stayed.

He stayed there like that, his lips inches from hers.

He had hesitated, his expression torn between wanting to leave and the pull of something deeper that they both felt there between them. They both smelled of wine and honeyed mead, lips sweet.

She didn’t know who kissed who, but in half a heartbeat they were entangled.

Sandor’s breath came ragged against her mouth. Her fingers tangled in his hair. She bit his lip and he growled. It was fast, animal, raw want.

And a longtime coming.

When he pulled away, she pulled him back in again, and he didn’t fight her. Breathless, she’d pulled herself up by his shoulders and onto her knees, the pain in her ankle unfelt and forgotten. Her hands cupped his face and she pulled him in, in, in, until her chest was flush with his and she could feel every rise and fall of his on hers.

At last he’d taken her by the elbows and pushed her away, and it ended as suddenly as it had started.

“You’ve had too much to drink,” he told her.

“But I haven’t had enough of you.”

“You’ve had your fill of that, too,” he said, turning cloak and leaving.

“I’m quite certain I haven’t had my fill of you.”

He paused mid-step and looked at her over his shoulder. “You don’t want that,” he assured her. There was something dangerous in his eyes, something sharp as steel and burning hot.

Y/N leaned back on the bed. “I know what I want,” she said, wishing she could stand and go to him, to pull him by his cloak and his armor and whatever else she could get her hands on—something lower than his beltline. “I’ve known for years and years.”

Slowly, deliberately, Sandor crossed the room again, silhouetted against the warm torchlight that poured in through the still-open door. “Trust me,” he said, towering over her, leaning in close. “You might want to get your fill of me, but you don’t want me to get my fill of you.”

Her breath left her body in a shuddering shiver.

Again he had turned, then, and didn’t stop to look back at her that time.

[talesofesther]

the witch and the vampire

modern au! Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: A vampire saves a witch from a monster. Yet the witch doesn't believe she belongs by the vampire's side. Little does she know, his cold heart only ever beats for her.

A/N: A small idea (that ended up not so small lmao) that I had on a whim and decided to write down, with a dash of Halloween spirit. ;)

Word count: 3,8k

Masterlist

Late afternoons at the Targaryen estate were one of the things you counted yourself lucky to have. The mansion itself, faded red and white in color, and built in the early 1900s, was a marvel that caused envy to many onlookers—it stood atop of a hill, with a massive yard at front and back, overlooking King's Landing. It was only fitting, you'd always thought, since the Targaryen's business empire funded most of what the city is today.

Through the large wood and glass doors that led to the kitchen's balcony, you were perched on the balustrade, watching as the golden light of the sun reflected against the ripples of the small artificial lake in the backyard. The air was crisp and fresh, the leaves on the trees were all brown and yellow, fall had officially arrived.

"You know what we need? Ghosts!" Aegon stepped through the doors, his eager voice catching your attention. He held a mug of hot chocolate and had the hood of his hoodie over his head. It wasn't that cold out, but Aegon had always preferred summer. "And bats, we should get bats too."

"I know a store that sells this stuff." Helaena soon followed, holding a mug of her own with one hand whilst the other tugged her cardigan closer to herself. "But we could always craft our own as well," she shrugged, breathing in and allowing the golden sunlight to warm her skin.

They sat at the round table of the balcony, and you turned around, leaning back against the balustrade to tune into their conversation, brows furrowed in curiosity.

Aemond was the last to come outside, and with a warmth to your cheeks, you couldn't help but stare. He had his long silver hair up in a loose bun, snuggled with a light brown sweater, and holding two mugs in his hands.

He didn't say anything as he walked up to lean beside you. Keeping you on his good eye's side, Aemond's shoulder was warm as it touched yours. He gave one of the mugs to you and took a sip of his own, closing his eye when the steam of the hot chocolate hit his nose.

You took the mug from him, biting the inside of your cheek when your fingers brushed his. "You made me one," both your hands closed around the warm ceramic, and you fought a smile. "Even if I said I didn't want it," you mumbled then, more to yourself than to him but Aemond heard anyway.

He hummed. "Even after all these years, you still refuse to take us seriously when we say 'make yourself at home'." Aemond glanced at you, he bumped his shoulder against yours. "I knew you wanted one."

You pursed your lips, bashful eyes shifting to the floor lest he saw the evident blush on your cheeks. Yet you leaned closer to him, whispering a 'thank you'.

"But it could be fun." Helaena's voice cut through your moment. You hadn't even noticed that she and Aegon had yet again fallen into a halfhearted discussion.

"Why would I go through the work of making something myself if there's a store that already sells it?" Aegon countered, shaking his head as if his point was the most obvious one.

"It's not about the work, it's about the fun process of it," Helaena rolled her eyes, slapping Aegon's hand away when he tried to reach for her half-filled mug after he finished his. "Plus it's not even that hard," she huffed, "you're just lazy."

"I'm not lazy," Aegon pouted.

"You're whining about making ghosts out of white cloth and styrofoam," Helaena raised a teasing brow, "And you say you aren't lazy?"

You shared a confused look with Aemond, who simply shrugged, despite having a smirk on his lips. "Guys," you called the two siblings, "What are you talking about?"

Helaena turned to you then, leaning back on her chair and taking her mug to her lips. "We are organizing a Halloween party," she spoke, before taking a sip.

"Next weekend, since mother will be out of town with Criston, we'll have the house all to ourselves," Aegon added in, with a pleased edge to his tone.

"And you will be attending," Helaena gestured a finger towards you, "No questions asked."

You blinked at her words, subconsciously leaning yourself closer to Aemond. "Oh, you know I'm not big on parties, Hel." A nervous chuckle fell past your lips. Ever since you became friends with Helaena back in middle school, she'd tried dragging you to all sorts of parties and events her family hosted. You'd think by now you should be used to high society events, even the ones organized by the siblings themselves, but really, you were not. "Besides, I uh- I don't even have a costume to wear."

"That's the least of your worries," Helaena waved you off with an easy smile, "We'll get you something, we can go shopping together this week." She then turned back to Aegon and continued discussing the decorations, as if the matter had been all resolved.

Your mouth remained agape, fingers tapping the warm edge of your mug. "It won't be anything big." You heard Aemond say from beside you, he leaned closer to your ear, feeling your anxiety coming off you in waves.

It wouldn't be farfetched to say you've spent more time at the Targaryen estate than in your own home these past years. Helaena loved you like a sister, Aegon adored making you laugh, their mother Alicent treated you almost as if you were a child of hers as well, and even Daeron who was pretty much never home always greeted you with a warm smile; and Aemond… Aemond was special and complicated and heartwarming all in one. They were family to you, but that doesn't mean anyone besides them would believe that. Others who held the same social status as them would often throw curious and judgemental glares your way when Helaena dragged you to events. You didn't belong in the upper-class crowd.

"It's just for close friends," Aemond continued, waiting for you to look up at him. "And some buddies Aegon is calling over."

Birds sang in the distance, announcing another day's end as the evening's cold breeze settled in. Aemond looked at you all soft and sweet, features shaped by the dusk glow, you sometimes liked to believe he kept that softness just for you. You held his gaze for a moment longer before raising one hand, worrying your nail between your teeth.

In the same beat, Aemond's hand came to close around yours, his fingertips tracing the bumps and ridges of your palm—all gentle and staggering as if he couldn't touch you enough. His touch would always give you goosebumps.

"It's your call." He pulled your hand down, but didn't let go. "But I'll… miss you, if you don't show up."

There was a hint of nervousness in his voice and in how he closed his eye when he spoke. It called you in, as if he truly meant it. And it's not like you've ever been able to tell him no.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

Helaena and Aegon had gone all-in for the decorations. String lights with small plastic pumpkins attached to them illuminated the stone pathway that led to the mansion's entrance; along the same path, there were bats and ghosts attached to the trees, and real candles on the ground. The deep warmth of the orange lights was strangely comforting. From outside, the music was muffled by the walls, and even so, it sounded considerably loud. The thin curtains did little to hide the colorful lights illuminating the dim insides of the spacious living room and kitchen. The silhouettes of people dancing, talking, and making out could be seen as well.

And you stood a couple of steps away from the small stairs that led to the main double wooden doors. The moon remained high in the sky, barely covered by a few dark clouds.

Your hands clutched a pointy, black witch's hat. It was the best you were able to find at such short notice. A witch's hat, a black vintage dress, a long and dark cloak draped over your shoulders, and black boots. All paired with some ominously made makeup around your eyes and burgundy lipstick.

Securing the hat back over your head, you quit stalling. With a deep breath in, you walked up to the door and knocked.

Helaena was the one to open it for you—dressed up as a faerie, with fake wings and everything—she had a big smile on her face and a flush to her cheeks, undoubtedly from the expensive wine being served in solo cups that you could already catch a glimpse of. Alicent wouldn't be happy about it.

"You came!" She exclaimed.

"Trick or treats?" You greeted her with a grin of your own, opening your arms to show her the fantasy that you and she had picked out.

Helaena didn't hesitate to take hold of your hand and tugged you inside, "Come on in, we just raided the wine cellar," she spoke the last words closer and quieter as if it was any kind of secret.

You chuckled under your breath, blinking as your eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" The music was now loud and clear against your ears, as were the few colorful lights that danced around. Much like the outside, the estate's interior was beautifully decorated with all things Halloween; ghosts hanging from the ceiling, glowing pumpkins scattered around, candles warming up the rooms, and even a human-sized skeleton standing beside the doors that led to the balcony.

Helaena waved off your worry, "Mom won't even notice that a bottle or two are missing." She then took a moment to look you up and down, narrowing her eyes with a teasing smirk, "You look great, by the way. See? I knew it would suit you."

"I suppose it's not so bad," you acquiesced, smoothing down the fabric of your dress and cloak. There were eyes on you—the mansion was filled with people, all around your age yet you didn't know any of them. They all sneaked curious glances, wondering why you were there and how you could be amidst the most influential family in the city. A simple girl like you.

Your palms grew clammy at the unwanted attention, and you tried to push aside the twisting of your stomach when Helaena gave you a sympathetic smile you knew too well.

"Okay, I have to close up the wine cellar, or else then we'll certainly have a problem," she grimaced, squeezing your hand once, "Have fun, will you?"

"When do I not?" You teased, to which she simply raised a brow before turning away, leaving you all too alone in the middle of the crowd. You felt exposed, truly. Suddenly out of place as if you were invading. But at the same time, small, so very small. Each of the people around you—drinking and dancing and laughing—held a weight to their presence, to the expensive costumes they wore, and to the poorly concealed scoffs falling from their lips as they walked by you.

You tried killing some time by eating one of the cupcakes on the kitchen counter, some were shaped like pumpkins, others like skulls. You chose the pumpkin one, fidgeting with the edge of your cloak as the sweet taste of the chocolate filling invaded your tastebuds.

It was hard finding anyone with the poor lighting of the room, and even harder with everyone wearing some kind of costume for the night. Your eyes skimmed over the small crowds of guests, looking for Aegon or Aemond, anyone to make you feel less like an outsider—you'd spotted Helaena again, but she was enthralled in conversation with a group of girls you didn't know and you didn't feel like intruding.

Eventually, you gave up and made a beeline to the balcony, squeezing your way past bodies and clutching your pointy hat to your head so you wouldn't have it knocked off. Already craving some fresh air. As soon as you crossed the threshold and felt the crisp air of the night hit your cheeks, someone managed to step on your cloak.

A yelp escaped you when you felt yourself being tugged backward, your back hitting someone's shoulder. You turned around fast, apology ready on your lips even if you weren't the one at fault.

"Hey," the tall man you'd bumped into didn't give you a chance to talk, he was dressed up as Frankenstein and had a half-filled solo cup in hand. "Watch where you're going," he spat, with something akin to repulse dripping from his tone.

"I'm sorr-"

"Aren't you a little far from home, girl?" He pushed into your personal space, forcing you to take a step backward.

Only for your back to brush against another someone. You closed your eyes, biting at the inside of your cheek as you cursed out every possible entity for giving you such tremendously awful luck. Perhaps coming to this party was a mistake. But then, warm and familiar hands slowly closed around your shoulders, thumbs pressing into your flesh in something comforting.

"She is exactly where she is supposed to be." Aemond's calm and even voice felt like the breath of fresh air you were so desperately seeking. You kept your eyes closed still, relishing in the feeling of his hands holding you, pulling you closer to him.

Aemond hummed, and his tone dropped to something more dangerous; "You, however," he addressed the man who had stepped on your cloak, but you felt shivers going up and down your back all the same, "Better be walking out those doors within the next five seconds or else I'll put you out myself." Aemond merely leaned his head towards the main doors of his house, and it didn't take long for you to feel the other man's nauseating presence vanish.

Only then did Aemond let go of you, stepping around you so he could look you in the eyes. And your breath stumbled the same way your heartbeat did when you finally looked up at him. Thanks to a thin layer of makeup, his face was paler than what you were used to. There was a steady trail of fake blood coming from the edges of his smirk. His hair fell completely loose and framed his angular face between the long silver strands. The prosthetic sapphire eye you so rarely saw on his scarred eye certainly completed and gave its own flare to the look. He dressed in a loose frilly shirt, with a long black cape over his shoulders that had red satin on the inside of its fabric. Aemond was a vampire. A very charming and alluring one at that.

"You uh-" The word fell like a breath past your lips, completely muffled by the music. You cleared your throat, glancing away from his piercing gaze. "You didn't have to do that."

"Do what?" Aemond shrugged, his lips pressed together in a playful pout. "Am I not allowed to take out the trash in my own house?"

Fighting a smile and losing, you shook your head at him. For once you were thankful for the dim light of the room, as it hid the warmth that spread to your cheeks.

"Let me grab you a drink, witch." Aemond reached a hand to the small of your back, pulling you towards the kitchen before you could protest. He kept close to you at all times, There was an almost predatory sharpness to his eye anytime someone so much as thought about looking at you the wrong way—even if with him by your side, no one dared to. It blossomed a heat in your chest that was difficult to deny, the valves of your heart working overtime to keep up with its frantic beating.

Aemond only let go of you so he could fill up two red cups with what you could only assume was a bottle of wine that cost more than your monthly salary. His cape swayed behind him as he walked, as did his hair, soft silver strands contrasting against the black fabric of his cape's raised collar.

"I'm glad you came," Aemond spoke just loud enough for you to catch it over the music. He handed you one of the cups.

You granted him a small smile, observing as the candles from the kitchen counter cast a pleasant warm glow to one side of his face, and the distant colorful lights of the adjacent living room cast a myriad of colors on the other. His prosthetic eye shone under the light. You had only seen him this bare a few handful of times. Helaena told you it had taken years for him to ever allow anyone to see him without the eyepatch he wears most of the time.

"I'm still deciding if it was a wise decision or not," you confessed, trying to lighten the mood with an awkward chuckle.

Before Aemond could answer, a heavy hand patted your shoulder and nearly made you spill your drink on yourself. "I knew you wouldn't miss it," Aegon's enthusiastic voice appeared beside you, he laughed, greeting you with a quick but sloppy kiss to your cheek, "My parties are always irresistible."

"Hey Aegon," your smile grew wider as you turned to him. The older Targaryen was dressed as a king, with a huge golden crown on his head, a red regal outfit, and a mantle of white fur over his back. "I love what you've done with the place," you praised loudly as a new song began, "The decorations are awesome."

He refilled his cup, stealing a glance at his own house. "Eh, turns out making some of these yourself does pay off," he shrugged, gesturing to the many ghosts and bats hanging from the ceiling and the carved pumpkins lying around.

It stole another chuckle from you. Aegon held his cup with one hand and gave you an exaggerated curtsy with the other, before going back to disappear between the crowd of costumes.

You and Aemond remained quiet for several beats then. You leaned back against one of the counters, taking small sips of your drink as you quietly observed everyone around you. The wine burned a little down your throat, but you found yourself enjoying the taste of it. A soft breeze came in through the open doors of the balcony, it carried the smoke of the candles and the smell of incense and wine.

Aemond had already finished his drink, his thumb traced the rim of his cup. "You do belong here," his voice was so soft it almost got lost with the music. You averted your eyes to him only to see him already watching you. He let go of his cup, placing it beside one of the carved pumpkins—yours, now you noticed, the one you had carved with Aemond at the start of the month.

You pursed your lips when Aemond walked closer to you, holding onto your breath. "More than any of them ever have," he whispered then, but he stood close enough for you to feel the warmth of his body on yours. You didn't have to try hard to hear him.

There was electricity in the air as one of Aemond's shoes stepped in between your boots. His eye cast over every speck of your cosmetic makeup, resting longer on your lips, as if wondering how many times he'd have to kiss you until your dark lipstick would fade.

With your heart in your mouth, any and all words you could think of were gone. Because Aemond was close, too close. He'd only been this close to you once before, on a late summer afternoon, when you both sat by the pool and his chapped lips brushed yours; he'd tasted of strawberries then, the ones you'd been eating by the water together; it was a fleeting moment, gone so fast that none of you dared to speak of it after.

But now, his soul intertwined with yours again, and you felt as one of his hands sneaked to your waist. His fingers traced your curves with purpose, as if he'd missed how the shape of your body felt in his hands. Maybe he did.

Aemond's nose was short of brushing yours when you sucked in a sharp breath. Your eyes caught the other guests of the party; stealing glances at you and him, whispering with near scandalous looks. Your hand clutched tight at Aemond's loose shirt. "Aemond stop."

He pulled back in the same breath, but didn't go far, your hold on him didn't allow him to. "They're-" You gulped heavily, feeling inebriated in his closeness, "They're all watching." It was nothing but a breath past your lips, because your hand was on his chest, and even through the thin shirt, you could feel the heavy beating of his heart trying to escape its confines.

Aemond's lips parted with a smirk, he had his tongue between his teeth. He shook his head, hair falling over his scarred eye, whilst the other one glinted with something akin to deep adoration.

With the boldness of a man who had surrendered himself to a heart that wept for another, Aemond leaned in. His lips pecked the corner of yours, it was a quick kiss, but it lingered with the way his other hand had come up to cup the corner of your jaw and press you into him.

You could melt. Turning your head toward him and chasing his lips when he pulled away.

"Let them see," Aemond hushed, his thumb came over your bottom lip, brushing away a stain of the fake blood that came with his kiss. "Let them see how much I-" He grew breathless before he could finish, his lips hovering. But the look in his eye begged you for something. Longed for something. "Let them see."

The music suddenly became muffled to your ears, and the eyes of anyone else disappeared in a blurred background. There was only him, and a gravity pulling at your heartstrings with a desperation you couldn't keep to yourself any longer.

Biting back the hesitation, you raised a hand to Aemond's face, your fingers buried between strands of his hair as you pushed it behind his ear. He closed his eye with your touch, falling forward until his nose touched yours. You met in the middle, and this kiss held more hunger to it. You caught his lower lip between your teeth, something harmless, yet you couldn't help but soothe with your tongue afterward.

Aemond pressed his body to yours, if he could be closer, he would be. Both his hands had sneaked beneath your cloak, needing to feel the warmth of your body the most he was able to. Your nails mapped the edge of his jaw, digging softly into the skin there. It gave beneath your fingertips as though his skin had been molded for your touch, and Aemond's mouth parted on an exhalation of your name.

You smiled, dodging his lips when he leaned forward yet again, going for his scarred cheek to lay a kiss there. "You were right, I do belong here."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Aemond's taglist is open, let me know if you'd like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

[suzukiblu]

Day twelve of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Tim clears his throat and adjusts the collar of his shirt for honestly no good reason, and Kon keeps doing–Kon keeps beaming at him. There is just . . . there is just so, so much beaming happening right now, and it is very, very hard to concentrate on anything else. Or even, like, passingly think about anything else. 

Kon looks–he just looks happy, and Tim feels flustered and overwhelmed and vaguely nauseous, but like, in a good way, somehow, and . . . it’s a lot. Yeah. Just–Tim is currently feeling a lot of things, is all. Just . . . a lot. So much. 

Tim wonders if he could figure out a loophole to “legally” marry Kon despite the fact he’s fifteen and Kon is only maybe legally a person and/or citizen in the eyes of the government, because in that case even once Kon gets bored of Tim Drake he’ll be able to send him alimony payments or whatever, so– 

Actually, Tim realizes as he looks at Kon’s beaming face–at Kon’s beaming face beaming at him–and feels Kon’s hand still gripping his easily and comfortably, and Kon still leaned in closer than necessary even as they walk along the sidewalk together . . . 

Actually, he doesn’t feel like Kon’s getting bored with Tim Drake at all. 

. . . . . . huh. 

Weird, Tim thinks, a little too bewildered to figure out why he feels that way. 

“Oh, hey, that looks good,” Kon says, perking up a little more as he looks at something over Tim’s shoulder and points past him with his free hand. “We need a new dinner place, right? Wanna try it?” 

Tim looks where Kon’s pointing and frowns in confusion, because he’s pointing at a skate shop, of all things, not a restaurant or cafe or even a bar. 

“I haven’t touched a skateboard in months and also I have no idea what that has to do with dinner,” he admits, still frowning in confusion, and Kon laughs. 

“The food truck, babe,” he says with a snigger, pointing more emphatically. “You skateboard?” 

“Uh–sometimes, yeah,” Tim says, refocusing his eyes to realize–yeah, there is in fact a food truck there, parked just to the side of the skate shop. It’s very . . . yellow. Very, very brightly yellow. 

He can absolutely never, ever tell Bruce he missed something as obvious as a huge neon yellow food truck, Tim swears to himself, and then he actually registers what the truck says and . . . blinks, very slowly. 

“Is that the one-dollar grilled cheese truck?” he says. “I thought that was a meme or something.” 

“I mean, probably some bargain-basement content creator who thinks they're an influencer is running it as some publicity stunt shit, but one-dollar grilled cheese,” Kon says reasonably, except for how Tim cannot even imagine what about that statement would be “reasonable”. 

“You want to get dinner from the one-dollar grilled cheese truck?” he asks, a little incredulous about the idea. 

“We could get so many, babe,” Kon says with a gleeful grin. Tim, instinctively, is about to protest that they could get “so many” of whatever Kon wanted, in fact, and a truck that says both “cash only” and “no change given, figure out your own shit” in Impact font is literally just . . . what. What? But then he has a brief remembered flash of Dick saying there wasn’t any “one size dates all” and talking to him about circus tickets and tailoring dates to the other person's tastes and, well . . . 

“Um, sure?” he says, still vaguely bewildered. Kon needs more expensive tastes. He needs to get Kon more expensive tastes. And also maybe, like, better standards for a “nice” dinner. 

Kon beams at him again, giving his hand a squeeze, and Tim disassociates for a minute or two in an attempt to process any of that and entirely, entirely fails to. 

. . . alright, maybe some of Dick’s dating advice was helpful, he reflects. 

. . . . . . also to be fair, this also might be the Condiment King or some other D-lister about to start some shit, in which case it wouldn't hurt to throw a superhero at the problem anyway. 

And at least it's gonna be a lot of calories, right?

[aayakashii]

ooh i did mean the second one, but if you have ideas about the first one i would love to hear your thoughts too~

- soulmate anon

OKAY SOULMATE ANON I HAVE YOUR HEADCANONS HERE!!!!! I used this list to write these down and while I have an explanation for some, others I went purely with the vibe but I hope you like it!!

soulmate headcanons

Kamurai Jin

"One soulmate owns a lock and the other owns the key to that lock."

I feel like it's fitting for him to have such a traditional romantic item like a locket. A cold man whose heart can only open with a literal key that only his soulmate has – this is a thing of fairytales. He has always been the king, but he is the one who needs to be found and saved by someone who can actually burrow their way into his heart and show him the love that he so desperately yearns for.

Ishibashi Tohma

"You have this unlimited stack of sticky notes. Write whatever you want on it, and that note would magically appear somewhere in your soulmate’s line of sight during that day."

I literally just think it's adorable! He's such a busy man and it'd be so cute for his soulmate to send him random sticky notes throughout the day, showing him support and telling him they love him. He'd keep them all in a box even if there are dozens of them per day.

Lucas Errant

"You can feel a tug from wherever your soulmate is. These may either be automatic, or have stronger tugs whenever your soulmate is in distress."

Can you imagine how worried sick Luca would feel whenever he felt a tug in his heart? As soon as he finally found his soulmate, he'd give them the tightest, most relieved hug because now he can always be by their side and protect them from anything. No more tugs, no more distress. He can finally be their knight.

Fuji Kaito

"Your eyes are your soulmate’s hair color, changes when they dye it."

I chose this one for him because: it's canon that he dyes his hair. Can you imagine all the times his soulmate’s eyes have changed color as he dyed his hair? Slowly fading from yellow back into brown as his roots grow, or changing the tone of yellow if he changes the brand of hair dye and all that... What if Kaito goes through a emotional crisis and changes to a completely random color too? That could be either fun or unnerving lol

Mido Alan

"People have a tendency to experience whatever emotions their soulmate have pent up inside them."

Alan deserves someone who completely understand his emotions. Someone who knows how to place their hand on his shoulders and kiss his cheek whenever they feel a pit of anxiety grow in his chest. His soulmate would understand his emotions, even when he can't understand them himself.

Kurosagi Leo

"Everybody has some type of tablet thing that's a shared space you and your soulmate can draw on."

Leo's soulmate needs to be well acquainted with his moods and his brattiness. Communicating with each other through little doodles and words before meeting each other seems like the perfect way to get used to him. And it'd be a nice way to get at him, to say that his doodles are awful lmao

Haizono Sho

"Everyone receives a special accessory (hat, watch, necklace, bracelet, etc) that is exactly alike with their soulmate. Many people, when they meet their soulmate, like to swap theirs with the other."

Oh, Sho strikes me as someone who would love to have matching accessories with his s/o. What if his soulmate has a bandana just like his? Or maybe an earring? He'd waste no time in asking them to swap items, feeling comforted by the physical presence of something that assures him that he's loved by his soulmate.

Sagara Haru

Each person has a spirit animal that can lead you to your soulmate."

That's very simple. Since Haru takes such good care of his animals, it's only fair that one of them could lead him to his soulmate. The prompt says spirit animal, but I imagine it with a tangible animal. Little Peekaboo tugging him towards some random place out of nowhere, and Haru just following suit because he can't say no to his baby. Little does he know, he'd find a lot more than he expected.

Otonashi Towa

"A red string tied around your pinky is connected to your soulmate’s pinky (when the two of you are in a certain distance)."

What better way for Towa to find his beloved soulmate than the most cliché and run down soulmate trope of all times? I think Towa would love a cliché though. He'd love the racing heart, the butterflies in his tummy, the fireworks in his head. He would tangle himself in that red thread if he could.

Shiranami Ren

"There’s this special video game where your partner is your soulmate. You only get to meet if the two of you finish the game."

That just sounds to me like the only way Ren would be motivated enough to find his soulmate lmao maybe he'd carry them or maybe he'd be carried, but, either way, it'd ensure that there'd be less awkwardness between Ren and them. Bonding online, to him, probably comes quicker and easier, and it'd be less painful to him to transition his online relationship to a irl one.

Hoshibami Taiga

"When you meet your soulmate for the first time, you get a flashback/relive their entire lives."

I imagined this would be fitting for him, because it'd allow his soulmate to actually know and understand the things he did during his life. They could be someone he could trust to know what went on in his past when he can't remember. He'd place a lot of trust in their hands and I feel like, to Taiga, trust must be as important and rare as love.

Romeo S. Lucci

"Everyone wears a mask. You get to finally take it off when you meet the one with your identical mask, your soulmate."

I think that this man already wears a metaphorical mask every single day, always thinking of how to act in order to get what he wants, and that's what I thought of once I read this. His soulmate would be the one person with whom he could let his guard down, actually relax and be himself. The only one he wouldn't be scared of slipping through his fingers, because, well, they're his soulmate. It's a bind that goes beyond any material desire.

Shinjo Ritsu

"Have the same tics at the same time (verbal tics, drumming fingers, humming, etc)."

This one I chose because I genuinely headcanon that Ritsu is autistic lol Not only would he be able to quickly pick on the fact that his soulmate stims the same way as him, he'd probably feel extremely comforted by the fact that they wouldn't judge him for his little quirks. Even if everyone says he's annoying, he knows that the only person that matters understands him.

Kagami Subaru

"Legend says that if you fold a certain amount of paper into cranes (or anything really), you can meet your soulmate."

Our resident anxious king. I thought of him creating the habit of making a certain origami every time he felt too nervous, like a comforting stim that would keep his mind off of whatever plagued him and keep his hands busy. Maybe he knows that folding a new crane would get him closer to his soulmate, and that's why it comforts him, or maybe he doesn't know at all. Still, it is something that fits his personality, imo.

Kusanagi Haku

"If you send off a paper airplane, it shall reach (or move in the direction of) your soulmate."

I think Haku deserves something simple and that he can (mostly) control. If his soulmate never found him, he could still go check on them whenever he wanted. And if they did find him, even better! Nothing too complicated for him. He already has too many complicated things on his plate.

(Still, he would always keep an eye at the sky surrounding him, patiently waiting for a paper airplane to finally gently poke him on his nose).

Kotodama Zenji

"Songs sung by your soulmate is stuck in your head."

Can you imagine being his soulmate and having a biwa concert going on in your head at all times. Would probably make his soulmate go crazy, but could also be extremely endearing because, I mean, it's Zenji. No one can ever be mad at him. He's the sweetest (and would be 100% stoked that his soulmate would hear all his creations no matter where they were).

Edward Hart

"Everyone holds a locket with their soulmate's picture, but it can only open when certain conditions are met"

Something about an old, powerful being cradling a small locket their whole life, waiting for the day it would open, and finally feeling the rush of relief and adrenaline once the little locket opens for the first time. Or maybe having the locket open and close through multiple lifetimes as he finds his soulmate over and over again.

Mizuki Rui

"You stop aging at a certain age, until you meet your soulmate and grow old together."

I chose this one literally because I think Rui deserves to have a soulmate with whom he'll live for the rest of his life – something that's guaranteed to happen, even if it takes a while. But it's okay because he'll literally have all the time in the world until he finds the one with whom he can grow old and live happy.

Lyca Colt

"Your soulmate leaves coloured footprints only visible to you."

In this world, maybe Lyca would see colors in the same way canines do – just a spectrum of blue and green tones. But then, once he finally got close to his soulmate, their footprints would light up his world in many more colors, and he would be amazed by it no matter how many times he saw it, like someone seeing a rainbow for the first time.

Isami Yuri

"Everyone gets little books of what people think about their soulmate (but never said out loud)."

Yuri would be OBSESSED about knowing what his soulmate says about him on their book. Do they like him? Do they think he's smart and cool and powerful? Maybe he'd try to find his soulmate just to know what is written about him, but then he would be caught off guard by how he slowly stops caring about that so much – maybe the person themself is the one that actually matters.

Kirisaki Jiro

"Get the same injuries as your soulmate does."

In his case, since he's always fighting some very rough battles, I think it'd be better for his soulmate to get the same scars as his.

They'd wake up, and suddenly, there would be another marking on their chest or arms. What the hell is their soulmate doing that they get so many injuries after all? It'd be tough to miss him in a crowd. After all, who else would have star-like scars on their chest just like them? Maybe Jiro wouldn't even know about the soulmate marking since a new scar would be hard to notice. Once they explain it all to him, he'd take it in stride, like always. He may even feel an unknown pang of guilt after he finds out about it. Maybe.

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

The Dilemma of a Rubber Duck

Alastor x Reader (Queer-Platonic) ft. Bestie Lucifer

(TW: Mentions of depression, mentions of suicide attempts)

You knew Alastor didn’t like Lucifer. You weren’t 100% sure why, only that the King of Hell really got on Alastor’s nerves. Ever since Lucifer had moved into the hotel in the aftermath of the battle with the angels, Alastor had spent hours ranting and raving to you about him. They were constantly trying to one-up each other. It was comical, really.

Except that you were stuck in the middle of it. 

Unlike Alastor, you and Lucifer had hit it off right away, getting along like two peas in a pod. There was a certain camaraderie that came with being clinically depressed and still having to force a smile, which both you and Lucifer were experts at. Many late nights had been spent exchanging stories and finding humor in things other people might not otherwise find humorous. 

(“I tried to kill myself twice, and then end up getting hit by a car! That’s how I end up in Hell? What did I do all that work for?” That was the first time that story had been met with laughter, and that was when you knew Lucifer was a good guy.)

You were constantly thinking about how Alastor would react to knowing you enjoyed hanging out with Lucifer, or vice versa. It worried you to no end, so you tried to keep your friendship with Lucifer under wraps, for Alastor’s sake. He needed someone to back him up, and you wanted to be that person. You wanted Alastor to know he could trust you.

One evening, you and Lucifer were talking in the parlor, drinking tea. Alastor was out for a fancy Overlord meeting, so you were able to relax a bit. 

“I’m so glad we have Niffty around,” you were saying. “Sometimes I just can’t find the energy to do my laundry, but I know that if I leave it on the floor, she’ll take care of it right away.” You thought for a moment. “It’s not like I’m forcing her to do it. Or taking advantage of her. Right?”

“Nah, I thought cleaning was her job,” Lucifer reassured. “My loophole with that is all my outfits are the same. Also magic. Magic is very helpful.”

“Man, I’m jealous!” You gave a lighthearted groan. “I wish I could have magic like that.”

“Who’s saying you can’t?” Lucifer shrugged, sipping at his tea. 

You snorted. “Have you seen me? Do I look like Overlord material to you?”

“I didn’t think Mr. Crimson Asshole was an Overlord, so looks aren’t everything.” Lucifer hesitated. “Oh, shit, I shouldn’t have said it like that. You two are like, dating, right?”

You made a ‘fifty-fifty’ gesture with your hand. “Eh… Not really? It’s like… a mutual relationship. Neither of us are the ‘dating’ type, so we just kind of… vibe. But it’s fine, I get it. You should hear the things he says about you.”

“Oh?” Lucifer leaned forward, curious. You mimed zipping your lips, grinning playfully. “Alrighty then, keep your secrets.”

The feeling of guilt you’d been getting used to returned, but you smiled past it. If there was anything Alastor taught you, it was that you could hide everyone behind a smile. And it worked, for the most part. The only person who’d ever been able to see though it was Alastor himself. Similarly, you were the only person able to see through his ever-present smile.

Setting his cup down, Lucifer waited for a lull in the conversation. “Before I forget, I have something for you.” With a wave of his hand, a little yellow rubber duck appeared in his palm. Its features and markings made it resemble you. 

Eyes wide, you carefully took the duck from his hands like it were an actual duckling.

“This one doesn’t breathe fire or anything, but…” Lucifer paused, like he was struggling for words. “I haven't had a real friend in… a really long time. S-so I wanted to thank you. For that.”

You were at a loss for words. The only other person to get you gifts since you’d died had been Alastor. That feeling of guilt hit you like a train, but it was masked with a bright, grateful smile.

“Lucifer, I… I’m honored. Thank you.” You struggled to tear your eyes away from the duck. “Can I hug you?”

Instead of replying, Lucifer pulled you out of your chair, hugging you close. You matched it, hoping your appreciation for his existence was properly conveyed.

“Ahem.”

You and Lucifer pushed each other apart like a teenage couple caught making out. Alastor was standing in the entrance to the parlor, teeth bared. His grin was sharp, borderline violent, and his eyes were narrowed. 

“Al,” you tried, but no other words followed.

Then Alastor sighed, and the murderous look in his eyes disappeared. You were still holding the duck Lucifer had given you. Looking down, you realized you were shaking, and felt a little faint. 

You stumbled back, right into Alastor’s arms. Head spinning, you allowed him to set you down on the chair. Alastor kept a hand on your arm, watching your every movement with surgical focus. He knew, you realized. He knew how guilty you felt, how much anxiety it was causing you. How long he’d known, you had no idea, but you could feel it in the way he wouldn’t let you go. You didn’t want him to let you go. 

“Are you okay?” Lucifer looked frantic, obviously worried. “Do you need water? Something to eat? Medicine? I’m sure there’s some around here somewhere, if you just give me a minute—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted, trying to muster a smile. You failed. How Alastor held his grin all day, every day, was a mystery to you. “Well, okay, maybe not fine.”

“They could use water,” Alastor provided, only a slight edge in his voice. Nodding, Lucifer ran off to get a glass of water, leaving you and Alastor alone in the parlor. 

Alastor was silent for a moment. You could tell he was trying to figure out what to say. “I apologize for not noticing your anxiety sooner.” A little joy fluttered in your chest. Alastor enjoyed watching everyone’s suffering—everyone except for you.

“It’s not your fault,” you told him. “I should’ve been more upfront. I just…” You were still a little shaky. Alastor’s hand moved so it rested over your hand. The rubber duck was still in your other hand, and you turned it over with your fingers, fidgeting with it. “I didn’t want you to leave me.”

“Now that is nonsense if I ever heard any!” Alastor laughed. “What a ridiculous sentiment, my dear. It would take more than that to take me from you, I assure you.”

“But I know how much you hate him.” You looked towards the direction Lucifer had gone. “You hate that he’s here. You hate that he’s meddling. And this is just another reason to hate him.”

Alastor was contemplating his words again when Lucifer came back. He gently handed you the glass of water, causing you to have to put your duck down. Alastor was right to ask for it—the water helped. The air was tense as Lucifer and Alastor glared at one another while also keeping an eye on you. 

“When you are happy, I am happy,” Alastor said out of the blue. Both you and Lucifer looked to him for clarification. “If talking with Lucifer makes you happy…” Alastor swallowed, gritting his teeth, glowering deeply at Lucifer, “then, by that logic, it makes me happy.”

“Hey, same here.” Lucifer put his arms up symbolically. “I’m not gonna leave my friend just because I hate their boyfriend– er, whatever you are, that is.”

“Partner,” you and Alastor said in unison.

“Right. That.” 

The air was still tense, but it made you feel better knowing that Alastor and Lucifer wouldn’t be fighting over you, at the very least. 

“Okay,” you said suddenly, having finished your water. “I’m going to bed. Thanks again for the duck, Lucifer.”

You barely heard Alastor growl at Lucifer upon realizing that he’d given you a gift, but it just caused you to smile fondly. Alastor was quick to step in beside you, taking your arm to escort you up to your room. 

“You’re welcome!” Lucifer called back. “But don’t think that just because you and Alastor are partners that I’ll make one for him too!” You had to stifle a laugh. Lucifer was too sweet for his own good, no matter how awkward it made him seem.

You turned so Lucifer could see your grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[violetsquare111]

(me getting into a new fandom) oh yeah. you could make classpects out of this

phew i've had this in the works for a lil over a week!! ava/m characters as homestuck godtiers! had to get the drawings out there yanno.

i will put more thoughts and the titles for everyone under the cut, because i did some minor redesigning to the outfits + you probably won't care about the classpect thoughts if you're less insane than i am lmao

Orange: Heir of Hope (a case could be made for them being a muse as well, i just liked how heir looked a lot better and it fits neatly i think)

Green: Witch of Light

Yellow: Maid of Mind

Blue: Maid of Void (maid bros! this is the title i'm least sure about though, it was a 5 minute pick based on vibes + matching class with yellow is a cute idea)

Red: Rogue of Life

Purple: Bard of Breath (obviously wasn't gonna use the canon outfit, i'm pretty ok with this redesign i think. purple as passive destructive class <3 could see them being a prince too)

Chosen & Dark: matching Lords of Space and Time (tbh i think dark fits better as a lord of rage, but passing up the opportunity to give them aspect duality of the two most reality-based aspects that MATCH THEIR COLORS? you think i'm NOT gonna go for that???)

this is also my first time drawing, uh, most of these characters, so i had to nail down designs right here (...and by designs i mean hairstyles)

bonus: i also put down king as a prince of doom and victim as a thief of void, but i was drawing So Many Guys already so i opted out of drawing em. i think in an actual au scenario they wouldn't be players anyway so it fits it's okay i have an excuse here guys. and i think king wouldn't look great in a prince of doom outfit lol

if you read all this, i hope you enjoyed the brainrot!! this may flop but if one other person sees+enjoys this then that's a success to me :D

[irislunace]

Siciria Analyzes The Most Complex Stick Figures Known To Man (part 1)

SPOILERS FOR AVA / AVM / INFLUENCER ARC SERIES

READ AT UR OWN RISK

Also here's part 2

I was rewatching Influencer Arc Ep 1 because the music slays, and the fight choreography is just awesome.

*cut to Siciria chilling*

But then I noticed this;

So, to those of you that don't know what I'm talking about, I noticed that Blue just kind of waits there for a moment before going in to help Red. I wondered why, because throughout the series, these stick figures are shown to have really quick reaction times in these kinds of moments.

But then it hit me; it's about personality.

So then I decided to do a deep analysis of Blue's character, which is probably going to be the first of five parts (maybe even more) where I deep dive into everyone's traits and flaws and whatnot.

-

Here goes...

So, we've seen Blue as more of the pacifist assistant. He likes plants, netherwart, potions, and cooking. You don't really see him being the first to instigate something, or the star of a fight. Heck, even in the Raid episode, it's more focused on Yellow and the command block staff than him.

But we do see more of an aggressive trait as well, in that sometimes, he acts without thinking.

LIKE THE LAVA. HE DIDN'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT AND JUMPED INTO STICKING LAVA. WOW. WOWOWOW. WOWOWOW.

But, what startles me, is that even though he'll self-sacrificially jump to save someone, and follow someone without thinking, and needs someone to ground him (usually Yellow), there are also times where he just freezes. Like in the Influencer Arc. He freezes when Red is getting beat up by the clones, before shooting at them. His brain takes a second (hehe) to catch up.

And here, too. Yellow is making a plan, where Blue's emotions are overriding any sort of thought.

...BUT AT THE SAME TIME, we also see those two things coalesce together for the better. We see him take action instead of freezing, and actually think about what he's doing as well. And this moment in the battle against the King goes kind of unnoticed, in my opinion, since there were so many hard fighting sequences and emotional stakes.

LIKE WHAT THE STICK. HE LED AN ENTIRE VILLAGE INTO WAR, AND THEY WERE ACTUALLY ABLE TO HOLD THEIR OWN AND CAUSE THE PILLAGERS TO RUN AWAY WITH ABSOLUTELY NO CONTEXT OR PRIOR TRAINING (albeit before they came back with the evoker and illusioner)

But we also don't talk about how much he assists everyone else. Like here. Green would have gone flying twice if Blue didn't have the presence of mind to brace him.

I saw a comment under the video calling Blue the MVP of the fight against Greenscreen. And while I do harbor the opinion that everyone contributed a lot to the win (and don't really agree with the comment, as Green, Yellow, Red, and Second contributed so much too), you can't deny that he assisted everyone frequently during the fight, and was a key part of success.

Blue's character arc is something we don't really talk about much as a fandom, but there are truly some moments which are, like, really cool.

And the most important one of all, of course.

Bluecifer "Elsa" Blonde. (my fanmade name, tell me if u like it!)

#slayqueen

EDIT AS OF 9/24/24:

There's also something else I noticed. Blue is shown to be able to keep track of a lot of things at the same time as well, like the positioning of his friends in a battle, and enhance them properly. He knows exactly what they need and can deliver it to them.

In the Witch, when he arms himself with potions and starts fighting, he has the presence of mind to turn his friends into animals that can stop the witch. For example, when Red is about to strike, he turns him into a golem for it to pack more punch. It's truly amazing, because he was able to pinpoint that that was about to happen before it did.

And even with himself, when the witch started shapeshifting, he did too. He knew exactly which mob would combat which, and he might have won if he hadn't run out.

[gnocchibabie]

Desire and Blood (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen/Strong OC (Jaenara Velaryon)

Tags: AU - canon divergence, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, Targcest (uncle/niece)

Wordcount: 5.3k

Summary:

Against all odds, the love between childhood friends prevails and the Dance of Dragons is avoided.

However, peace comes at a cost. With the unexpected proposal of marriage between Alicent Hightower's son and Rhaenyra Targaryen's only daughter, can love truly blossom between sworn enemies? Or will Jaenara Velaryon be reduced to a mere pawn?

Love may yet arise where enmity once thrived, but Aemond's relentless pursuit of power threatens to shatter everything they hold dear, including each other.

A/N: You can find the previous chapters on my masterlist!

If you are liking this series, please consider showing some love on my AO3 posting of this fic :) thank you x

The day had finally come for Rhaenyra Targaryen to officially ascend the Iron Throne. Jaenara had scarcely slept the night before, anxiety gripping her tight and threatening to plague her sleep with nightmares of all that could go wrong. A last minute attempt at usurpation. An outspoken Lord or Lady laying doubt to her claim during the ceremony. The possibility of her mother’s flesh slicing upon upon taking her seat on the throne.

 Jaenara sat by the window in her bedchamber, watching as the sun began to rise in the horizon, vibrant hues of orange, pink, and yellow coating the rooftops of King’s Landing. The young princess already felt exhausted thinking of all the lords and lady’s that would soon descend upon the Red Keep to behold her mother’s crowning. All the smiling and curtseying and pleasantries she would have to afford the visitors. But this was surely a historic and unprecedented occasion for them - a woman sitting the Iron Throne. A woman, they would bend the knee to. 

She took delight in the thought. Better her mother than her drunken, spineless uncle, who had never taken any kind of interest in matters of politics. She dared to guess that Aegon would take little delight in sitting in on her mother’s council in the coming days, despite the Queen extending this kindness to him. The most happiness he would find from the crowning of his half-sister was all the wine he’d be able to drink come the coronation feast that evening.

As Jaenara watched the citizens of King’s Landing trickle out of their houses and flood the streets below, readying to begin their days, she recentered her thoughts. Rhaenyra Targaryen would soon mount the most powerful seat in Westeros. And Jacaerys would one day follow suit. 

And I will take over Dragonstone. The princess was unsure of what to feel at the thought. It was a position she felt honored to hold, knowing that her mother had entrusted her with maintaining the ancestral seat of House Targaryen. Jace had even graciously given up his claim to it, so that Jaenara and Aemond — though mostly Aemond — would not feel as though they had been slighted during the negotiations that were held when debating the succession. 

And Jaenara would make a fine princess of Dragonstone — she had thought at least. For as long as Jaenara could remember, Rhaenyra had made a great effort to raise her children amidst politics and histories of the realm, preparing them to one day hold positions of power themselves. Her mother had always felt bitter about the fact that Viserys had never extended the same teaching to her when she was a young heir. She would not let her children suffer the same disadvantage.

The princess pictures herself sitting on the Dragonstone throne, a seat she had passed by many times, never imagining she would ever actually sit upon it. Jaenara wonders what the cold Valyrian stone which the throne was cut from will feel like under her touch. She imagines Aemond Targaryen, as her husband — the prince of Dragonstone, standing at her side. Her uncle had been taught just as she had, prepared to hold great status. Prepared to rule. Though she dares to guess it had played out much differently than he had ever imagined. But Jaenara understood the intelligence Aemond held and the skill he wielded. 

She can almost feel his hand on her shoulder, his warmth at her side, cold steel adorning his hip.

As much as she hated to admit it, Jaenara thought Aemond would fit in quite well at Dragonstone. The castle was quite grim and dreary, though it was rich with Valyrian history and architecture. Something she was sure her uncle would appreciate. That and well — he was quite grim and dreary himself. 

The sun had risen even higher in the sky when Jaenara’s handmaidens came knocking at her door, eager to dress the princess for this momentous day. 

“Come in.” She answers, without turning from the window, both apprehensive to begin the whirlwind of a day and simply captivated by the morning sky. 

Alora tiptoes through the doors of the princess’ chambers, followed by a few other companions. “Goodmorning, Jaenara!” She addresses her rather chirpily. Jaenara thinks she is much more excited for the festivities than she herself.

Jaenara finally rises from her seat by the window and walks over to meet her company, “Good morning, ladies,” she regards them politely, attempting to quell the anxiety bubbling within her, “I suppose we should begin.”

The maids set off to work, running the princess a warm bath. Jaenara lowers herself into the tub, relishing in the warmth that envelopes her. She sinks into the recesses of the bathtub, holding her breath and allowing the water to soak into her hair. When she finally resurfaces, the women start to scrub her head to toe. Her hair is then thoroughly washed, with oils and perfumes being sprinkled onto the black curls. Jaenara steps out of the bath, drying herself and letting Alora brush out the hair. As the young girl brushes out the tangles, Jaenara hopes that the water has rinsed away the unease that is surely evident on her features.

The princess is then covered in a flowing dress adorning the colors of House Targaryen. Scarlet cloth decorated with black embroidery resembling dragon scales adorns her figure. A golden belt bearing the sigil of Jaenara’s house is fastened around her waist. She shakes her hips and hears the belt quietly jingle, a giggle leaving her. She regards herself in the mirror a moment.

“Beautiful, my princess,” Alora’s smiling gaze meeting her own in the reflection. Jaenara offers a small smile back. 

I wonder if Aemond will think the same.

It takes Jaenara a moment to truly realize the thought that had crossed her mind. The princess shakes her head, as if to physically shake the question from her thoughts. What had gotten into her? She asserted that it mattered not what he thought.

Her attention turns back to the matter at hand when her handmaidens begin to brush through her hair once more. Long, winding sections of her dark hair are weaved together and made to form a bun atop her head, with some sections of braided hair left to fall below.

Finally, a golden headpiece embellished with gems is placed atop her head, mingling with her curls. “Oh?” Jaenara voices, “What’s this?” She turns once more to face her reflection in the mirror.

“The Queen has picked this out herself, Jaenara.” Alora answers, taking a step back from the princess to admire her work. “She tells us this is the headpiece she wore when she was near your own age — during the ceremony in which the late king named her heir.”

Jaenara can feel her heart swell from the admission. Tears threaten to well up into her eyes, though she forces them back down. She looks herself over, and sees her mother staring back at her. 

Letting out a shaky breath, Jaenara turns to her attendants, “I must thank you ladies, you have somehow managed to make me look presentable.” The women begin to laugh together when a knock is heard upon the princess’ door. 

“Yes?” The princess answers.

When the door opens and Jaenara sees her mother, she is quick to dismiss her handmaidens. “Thank you all — that will be all for now.”

The maids give a quick curtsy to the queen, with a few muttering a polite “Your Grace” as they filed out of the chamber.

Rhaenyra Targaryen stares at her daughter breathlessly, and wonders how eighteen years had slipped past her so quickly. She sees herself staring back at her, looking like a true Targaryen princess. She sees the ghost of her past lover, Ser Harwin Strong, his features etched onto her face — his spirit intertwined within their daughter’s. And though she shares no blood with Laenor Velaryon, she finds herself wishing the girl’s “father” could see the fine young woman he had helped her to become. 

“Mother,” Jaenara’s voice quivers.

Amidst the privacy of her chambers, Rhaenyra Targaryen embraces her daughter. “My Nara, my girl.”

Jaenara’s emotions soar once more and she lets a single tear escape. She pulls back from her mother after a moment, looking the Queen up and down. Her attire and beauty paled in comparison to her mother’s. The epitome of Targaryen elegance stood before her — the only thing that could possibly complete the look would be the crown soon to grace Rhaenyra’s head.

“You look beautiful — like a Queen.” Jaenara expressed. Rhaenyra smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Jaenara quickly picks up on the mounting anxiety her own mother is feeling at the moment. She could not begin to fathom what it must feel like holding the entire realm on your shoulders. Jaenara takes a hold of her mother’s hands, and tries to be her strength. 

“You are ready for this, mother. It is your birthright. And when you are officially crowned, the realm will be the better for it.” Lavender eyes meet violet, as Jaenara finishes with, “I am proud to call myself your daughter.” 

Rhaenyra lets out a shaky breath, bogged down by emotion. She fiercely looks her daughter in the eyes, “I know I am soon to sit the Iron Throne but…but being your mother — being all of you children’s mother…is my proudest accomplishment.”

She puts a hand on the back of her daughter’s hand, careful not to ruin the braid her servants had diligently crafted, and pulls her forehead to her lips.

“We’d better get going, my sweet daughter.” She smiles down at her.

And so they do.

— — —

Aemond Targaryen stands at the head of the Great Hall, next to his siblings and mother, awaiting the entrance of his half-sister. His half-sister, the Queen. Prince Aemond could scarcely believe the day had finally come, though he knew it was inevitable given their father’s true intentions regarding who should succeed him. There was no denying it — much to the dismay of some people within his court, and even within Aemond’s own family. 

Otto Hightower, knowing that Rhaenyra had no place for him on the small council — or rather, knowing he could not puppeteer Rhaenyra as he had her father — had since returned to Oldtown. Aemond found that he felt relieved from the absence of his grandsire, and swore his mother shared a similar sentiment. 

Daylight from a cloudless sky now flooded into the Great Hall, illuminating tapestries depicting the histories of House Targaryen. Aemond’s ancestors stared down upon him, and he felt the weight of their unyielding gaze. 

He looked out into the crowd, the hall filled to the brim with noblemen and ladies who had all traveled far to attend the occasion. All to see the first Queen of the Seven Kingdoms be crowned. 

In truth, Aemond did not know how to feel at seeing Rhaenyra be crowned. He was nothing if not realistic, and he realistically understood that seating Aegon upon the Iron Throne would throw the realm into disarray and plunge House Targaryen into a war — one that would surely have been bloody. But when he saw his half-sister, he saw someone unworthy of sitting the throne — unfit to rule. 

If Aemond had been born before Aegon, he would not have yielded his birthright so easily. But there was still time yet to fight for some semblance of power, even if it was less than what he thought he deserved. The sapphire under his eyepatch feels hot. Just thinking about it all, made his scar itch and burn.

“What are you thinking about, brother?” Helaena’s soft voice calls Aemond away from his troubled thoughts. The burning dissipates to a dull throb. His sister stands next to him and regards him with a curious look.

“I am just eager for this ceremony to conclude…I suppose.” He answers Helaena, and it is not entirely a lie. 

“You and I both,” she says, adding, “Jaenara said she would stand next to me during the ceremony, so that we may ease each other’s nerves. I think I would quite like her company.”

Aemond hums thoughtfully. It is not so often that Helaena enjoyed the presence of others. Now it is Aegon’s turn to pipe up from the other side of Aemond, “Where are they? Does she really mean to keep us waiting up here so long?.” He whispers bitterly to anyone in his family who cared to listen.

“The Queen and her family will be here in a moment. They wanted to allow enough time for guests to trickle in. I did not think simply standing would be so taxing for you, Aegon.” Alicent tries to defend her friend. 

Aegon makes a face and rolls his eyes. “She is not Queen yet.” Aegon’s attempt to demean his half-sister falls upon deaf ears as the doors to the Great Hall are swung open, all eyes in the room following the commotion.

The air crackled with anticipation as low whispers broke out amongst the crowd. 

Through the parted doors, a procession of men carrying the banners of House Targaryen walked the length of the Great Hall, parting at each side once they reached the base of the Iron Throne. Behind them, Rhaenyra’s family began to trickle in. Daemon led the procession, looking composed and smug as ever, Dark Sister hung at his side. He takes his place next to the throne, where his wife will soon sit. Aemond looks at the man with great interest, considering how he too will soon stand beside his own wife as she sits upon a throne.

Daemon is then followed closely by Rhaenyra’s bastard children and their betrothed. Jacaerys and Baela walk side by side, as Lucerys and Rhaena march behind them. They take their places on the opposite side of the aisle where Aemond and his siblings stand. 

Finally, Aemond sees Jaenara, who trailed behind her brothers. She holds hands with little Joffrey, guiding him through the long stretch of the Great Hall. As his niece draws nearer, Aemond finds it difficult to tear his eye away from her. She looked….

Aemond found it impossible to settle on a word that encapsulated his niece’s beauty.

Bewitching. 

That felt as right a word as any — it was the only explanation as to why she had enraptured him so. Looking at his niece filled Aemond with a bittersweet ache. 

Amidst her beauty, Aemond watches Jaenara bite her lip — a nervous habit she had exhibited even in their youth. Surely, it would bleed or bruise in time. 

He wishes she would not ruin such beautiful lips. 

After what feels like an eternity of watching his niece, Jaenara finally reaches the summit of the Iron Throne, and stands next to Helaena, bridging the gap between the Targaryen-Velaryons and Targaryen-Hightowers. Jaenara and her aunt share thoughtful expressions, clearly pleased to be in each other’s company. 

Standing with her family at the head of the crowd, Jaenara could practically feel the weight of history in the air, the echoes of generations past and the hopes of those yet to come.

Aemond is still looking at Jaenara, who is clearly still caught up in the moment of the ceremony, when the procession turns his attention to the doors once more. 

Rhaenyra Targaryen, a picture of resplendent Targaryen nobility, begins her descent to the Iron Throne. Jaenara feels breathless watching her mother, squeezing Joffrey’s shoulders perhaps a touch too hard. The entire Great Hall has fallen into dead silence, contrasting the tumult the princess feels echoing in her head. As Rhaenyra ascended the steps to the dais, her movements were graceful and deliberate, a testament to the years of preparation and the weight of responsibility she bore. 

All heads are turned to Rhaenyra when she finally takes her seat. The High Septon, clad in his flowing robes of office, stepped forward to greet her, holding aloft the ancient crown of Aegon the Conqueror, symbol of the authority she was about to claim. His voice, resonant and filled with solemnity, carried through the hall as he spoke the words of blessing and investiture, reaffirming her right to rule as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. The crown was lowered onto Rhaenyra's brow, its golden spires gleaming in the torchlight, casting shadows across her features. 

Jaenara's gaze was fixed unwaveringly upon her mother. The crown seemed to ignite with a radiant light, casting a halo around her mother's head. In that moment, Jaenara felt a surge of pride so strong it brought tears to her eyes. Her mother, who had guided her with unwavering strength, would now lead the Seven Kingdoms with this same strength. Her mother, who had taught her of duty and honor, would now rule the Realm with such values. It was a moment Jaenara had dreamed of, yet seeing it unfold before her eyes filled her with a quiet reverence she couldn't quite put into words.

A murmur of reverence and respect rippled through the gathered nobles, their voices blending into a chorus of acclaim as they acknowledged her ascension.

The High Septon’s voice echoes throughout The Great Hall: “All hail Rhaenyra Targaryen — Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” 

With the crown in place, Rhaenyra turned to face her subjects, her expression a mix of determination and humility. She raised her hands in acknowledgement, and the hall erupted into applause and cheers, the sound echoing off the high vaulted ceilings.

The Realm’s Delight had officially been crowned Queen. 

“Long live the Queen!” someone at the back of the hall shouts. Soon, the entire room booms together in uproarious unity: “Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen!”

Amidst the celebration, Aemond Targaryen watched from his place among the assembled nobility, his thoughts a swirl of uncertainty and cautious optimism. Beside him, his siblings exchanged meaningful glances, their expressions reflecting the weight of the moment.

Jaenara shared glances with her party, and soon met Aemond’s eyes. The prince could practically feel the palpable pride and joy spilling out from his niece. He gives her a small nod and returns his attention to the thunderous crowd before them.

Shouts of praise for Westeros’ new Queen continue to swell around them, threatening to blow the ceiling off of the Red Keep.

— — —

Servants of the Red Keep had swiftly reorganized the Great Hall to accommodate approximately a thousand lords and ladies for Rhaenyra’s enthronement reception. Jaenara Velaryon now sat at one of the expansive wooden tables, absentmindedly sipping her wine and wincing when it stung her bitten lip. Beside her was her twin, Jacaerys, and on the other side, Aemond Targaryen. Warm candlelight bathed the chamber, casting dancing shadows across the faces of all the attendees. Jaenara stole a few glances at her uncle, observing how the interplay of shadow and light accentuated his sharp features.

Aemond’s silver-white hair cascaded loosely as usual — the princess once again finding herself envious of the hallmark Targaryen attribute. Her eyes drifted down to his figure. Since the truce had been brokered, Aemond had taken to wearing black instead of his usual green. His cloak, adorned with subtle red stitching, draped elegantly, and a leather belt hung at his waist. Jaenara decided she should redirect her thoughts elsewhere.

The guests — as well as Jaenara and her family have mostly finished with the meal that was set before them. Still feeling high from the excitement of the day, Jaenara turns to Aemond, “You have been awfully quiet, uncle.”

The prince smiles wryly, “It is a…surreal time. I am simply absorbing the day’s events.” In truth, Aemond had been mentally revisiting his plans for what felt like the hundredth time. With his half-sister now officially Queen, his marriage to Jaenara would soon follow. Once they were wed, their fates would be intertwined. And then, he mused to himself, he could deal with Jacaerys...

Aemond imagines the light leaving his nephews copper brown eyes. He blinks and they are replaced with the cool lavender ones beside him. 

He grimaces and takes a swig of wine. 

Music has begun to trickle throughout the hall, no doubt in an effort to continue the festivities of the day. A surprise to everyone at the table, Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen rise to their feet, making their way to the clearing in the middle of the chamber.

“Mother?” Lucerys scoffs incredulously.

The Queen shoots her children a look, but it is difficult to hide the smile spreading across her face. “Come on, all of you. We should inspire a bit of merriment.”

Balea and Rhaena break out into a fit of giggles, rising to their feet. Jace and Luke share a glance, looking bashful. Lords and ladies seem delighted at the sight of the royal family taking to the floor. Throughout the hall, guests begin to follow suit, flooding the chamber floor. 

The music swells as couples dance arm in arm. Jaenara has to take another sip of her wine to hide her shock from seeing even Aegon and Helaena descend upon the floor — her aunt thankfully looking mildly content. The princess winces once more as the wine mingles with the fresh gash on her lips. 

“You should put an end to that habit of yours.” a low voice mumbles to her.

Jaenara looks to her right and sees Aemond on his feet, offering her a hand. 

The princess lets out a little chuckle and waves her uncle off. Aemond seems to deflate ever so slightly at his niece’s dismissal, though his hand remains extended.

Jaenara’s laughter ceases, “Truly?” she asks.

“Well if you would prefer to remain at this empty table,” he looks around, “we may do that.”

Jaenara feels a surprising nervousness overtake her as she places her hand in Aemond’s. His large hand engulfs hers as he gently pulls her to her feet. She takes a moment to notice the callouses on this palm, surely a result of gripping the pommel of his sword. She runs her thumb over the rough patch of skin and Aemond almost shivers.

The princess feels her heart pounding in her throat as they approach the dance floor. Standing before Aemond, she hesitates, uncertain how to start. He clears his throat and gently encircles her waist with his hands. Jaenara's heart quickens even more—almost unbelievably—as she cautiously rests her hands on Aemond’s shoulders.

A lump swells in the prince's throat as Jaenara draws near, the intimate proximity unnerving him. He worries she might sense his racing heart. He speaks to her, hoping his words betray nothing of his physical turmoil.

“We must keep up appearances, niece. Even my brother and sister are dancing together.” Aemond looks down on her, noticing the quick rise and fall of her chest. He figured that was how Jaenara felt — they were simply playing their part.

But Jaenara feels a twinge of disappointment upon hearing this, and does little to hide it. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she responded, rather quietly, “Oh…yes, yes of course…”

A melody of strings fills the silence between the couple as they clumsily guide across the floor. Jaenara, as Aemond noticed, was much more skilled in dancing than he was. She was able to flit around with a certain grace, while he found himself unsure of where to step. At one point, he steps on her foot. 

Jaenara lets out a quick and quiet yelp at the sudden feeling, and she swears she sees Aemond’s cheeks turn pink. “Apologies,” he mutters. 

Despite his sore lack of dancing skills and the dull throb in her foot, Jaenara feels a smug grin pull across her face. 

“You’re not one for dancing I see. How brave of you to take me as a dance partner…I’m afraid my skills are lackluster as well.” She teases, though she attempts to calm her uncle’s nerves. 

Aemond scoffs, “If your skills are unpolished, then mine are nonexistent.”

“Doesn’t all that fancy swordplay make you light on your feet? Surely some of those skills are transferable.” Jaenara tells her uncle.

“This is nothing like that…” Aemond quips.

Jaenara’s laughter echoes through the crowd as she observes Aemond's awkwardness. He feels a twinge of embarrassment at the attention she garners, yet he can't help but admire the joy evident on his betrothed's face.

He savored this. Aemond took pleasure in eliciting genuine laughter and happiness from Jaenara—not the forced, empty laughs she gives when he says things he regrets later. Making her happy brought him joy.

Jaenara was laughing and smiling and happy and warm and in his arms. 

And she had no idea the atrocities that Aemond was planning. 

And what does that make me? He wonders. 

The music permeating through the chamber begins to change, an apparent signal for the couples around them to switch dancing partners. 

“Brother!” Aegon’s voice finds Aemond and Jaenara, “It seems it is time to swap!” Without giving anyone a chance to retort, Aegon takes Jaenara’s hand in his. Helaena settles in between Aemond’s arms as they both watch their brother whisk away the princess. . 

“Mittys” Aemond mutters.

“I am surprised to see you out on the dance floor, Aemond.” Helaena examines her brother curiously. 

“I could say the same to you,” he retorts, coming off a touch too defensive. Helaena raises an eyebrow, to with Aemond then adds, “Jaenara…wished to dance.”

His sister seems unconvinced. “Right…”

Aemond watches Jaenara and Aegon from across the ballroom. His brother's hands are settled on Jaenara’s waist, where his hands once lay. Her own hands are hesitantly perched atop his shoulders. Aemond experiences a hot, uncomfortable sensation in the pit of his stomach as he watches them dance. His gaze is fixed on the couple, his lips pressed into a tight line, brows furrowed. Nearby, Helaena sways dreamily, noticing Aemond's expression and struggling to conceal a small smile.

He watches mouths move, trying best to read their lips. Jaenara appears unexpectedly at ease now, and Aegon grinned wolfishly at his niece. It takes Aemond a great deal of willpower not to leave his sister’s side when he sees Jaenara laugh at some remark Aegon had made. His brother glances towards Aemond's position on the dance floor and sends him a wink.

Must he have everything? Aemond finally finds the resolve to stomp over to Jaenara and Aegon.

“It seems this song has ended, let us return to each other.” He says shortly, glaring at Aegon.

“Why the haste, brother? We were just getting started!” Aegon’s amusement at his brother’s jealousy was evident by the smug grin on his face.

Jealousy? Surely that was not it. Aemond found it impossible for himself to be jealous over such a trivial matter. Jaenara was her own lady, free to do what she wanted — especially when they had established that this relationship was merely transactional. 

But he did feel jealous. Especially when it involved his elder brother. 

Aemond takes his niece’s hand and guides her back to the other side of the room. He wordlessly reassumes his previous position, placing his hands on her waist and venturing to pull Jaenara slightly closer. The princess’ hands find their rest on his shoulders once more. 

"Helaena must have been terribly dull if you returned to me so swiftly for a dance," she muses.

Aemond decides not to meet her gaze, instead focusing on a corner of the chamber that lies straight ahead.

“What did you and Aegon speak of?” He asks quietly, not bothering to respond to her joke.

“Oh,” His niece sounds taken aback, “Nothing really. He asked me what I thought of the coronation. How I was feeling this evening. He was being surprisingly tame…perhaps the wine has dulled him for once…” A pause, “He made a joke about your ‘piss poor lack of dancing skills’ as he called them. But that is all.”

“Hmm.” Is all Aemond cares to respond with, as his gaze remains fixed on that empty corner of the room. 

Has he always been this…brooding? The princess asks herself. Jaenara’s hands squeeze on his shoulders slightly, attempting to recenter her uncle’s attention. It makes Aemond feel dizzy. He finally dares to look down at her.

To the prince, Jaenara’s headpiece looked like a golden halo nestled amongst her raven hair. His eyes soften.

Bewitching. 

“He can say what he likes.” He finally adds. 

“I would not let him.” Jaenara asserts firmly. “No one is allowed to disparage you but me.” She teases, hoping she has not crossed a line. She feels reassurance upon seeing a smirk crackle upon Aemond’s face. 

Jaenara was not sure what she was doing — acting like this. So carefree, so playful. Enjoying herself. Perhaps buoyed by the wine or the lingering elation from her mother's coronation. But all of the earlier worries of the day had momentarily melted away, and she found herself enjoying Aemond Targaryen’s company. 

Aemond and Jaenara eventually find themselves back at their family’s table, both having their fair share of dancing for the evening. The lords and ladies have begun to trickle out of the Red Keep for the evening, much to Aemond’s relief as he was beginning to feel tired from the day’s festivities. Though his fatigue was nothing compared to the exhaustion Jaenara felt; she was beginning to feel the consequences of staying awake the previous night. When Jaenara noticed her mother gesturing for her to join her at the end of the table, she whispered a quick remark to Aemond and rose to take her seat next to Rhaenyra. Aemond watched carefully as mother and daughter delighted in their conversation, Rhaenyra occasionally casting a glance in her half-brother's direction as they spoke.

Aemond huffed and took a drink from his cup. 

“Aemond.” Jacaerys said from across the table. The prince looks up to his nephew.

“Thank you,” Jace tells him, “for dancing with her. She likes to pretend she does not care for such frivolities. But she does.”

Aemond nodded in acknowledgment. He began to revel in the fact that Jace seemed to be warming up to him finally, when the man across from him spoke once more. 

“She likes to pretend she doesn't care about a lot of things, really…But it’s not true. You can always tell when she’s lying…” Jace adds, his eyes fixed on Aemond. An uncertain expression crossed his nephew’s face, hinting at some hidden knowledge.

Aemond seemed to grasp the implication.

Impossible.

He cleared his throat in a rather exaggerated manner and stood abruptly, causing his chair to scrape loudly against the floor. All heads at the table turned towards him.

"I... I am retiring for the night," he announced. He dared to glance at his half-sister, though he skillfully avoided the confused gaze of Jaenara. "Your Grace," he added, his voice strained. 

Rhaenyra returns the acknowledgement with a polite nod. 

Aemond strode out of the Great Hall, heading straight for his chambers. He wished for the dark corridors of the Red Keep to swallow him whole. The silence of the night was shattered by the echoing sound of another’s footsteps on the stone floor. He quickened his pace.

“Uncle!” A small voice called out behind him.

Damn it all.

Aemond does not need to turn around to know who has followed him, though he does stop and wait for her to catch up.

“Are you well?” Jaenara asks breathlessly.

He does not meet her eyes when he responds. “Just tired.” His tone is convincing, for he sounds exasperated.

Jaenara hesitated to address the obvious turmoil surrounding him, deciding to let it lie for now.

"Very well... Goodnight, uncle. Try to get some rest," she said, her tone teetering between sympathy and suspicion. When he didn't reply, the princess turned and began making her way back to the hall.

Aemond takes a glance over his shoulder, watching his betrothed safely return to the chamber.

“Goodnight, Jaenara.” he whispers into the stillness of the night.

a/n: this chapter felt a bit rushed to me but I just really wanted to get something out ahhhh. as for the next chapter...hehehe...

tags: @aleemendoza2425-blog @toodlesxcuddles

[brights-place]

Can

Can u maybe do Sonic exe x reader please? 🥺

[Creepypastas] Sonic EXE x Reader Warnings: Gore, Cursing

A/N: Never in my life have I thought that someone would request sonic exe... BUT HEY WHATEVER YOU LIKE LETS GO the gender is not specified

Summary: Just headcannons of Sonic EXE the creepypasta which I never have thought I would do with an x reader character thats abit creepy

- There was many differences between you two in body and personalities mostly with him being a mass murderer plus the fact he's an anthropomorphic video game hedgehog and you're well a a human - He's a cursed item and a short one too - Short king who cares for his partner and would kill for her or kill her when he gets bored lucky enough he hasn't gotten bored of you he enjoys playing and toying with you - Sonic EXE can say some disturbing ass shit that will frighten or startle you or will say the most gruesome things about his recent victims out of nowhere but if he feels like he’s gone too far he will apologize to you but don’t expect him to do that for anyone else - When he first did that was when you were making him some chili dogs and he stared at the chili - "You know that reminds me of when I gutted this weird ass girl who were trying to get to me but i gutted her because she would always fail the levels ugh I should taken out her eyes too would of been fun to-" and here cues your horrified face staring at him - When he's running he enjoys you boosting his ego - He’s never encountered a human that had the nerve to challenge him actually he has but they all were too cocky but you? being aware of your flaws and using it to your advantage made him entertained - This hedgehog cannot die so every time you get so angered in a whole another level he watches as you lash out and for some reason he enjoys every time where you lash out on him - he loves suggesting for you to snap his neck or kill him a horrifying way that he loves to describe as you always say you'd never kill him - He comes back bloodied and would have you wipe away the blood dripping down his red irises and voidless eyes - you both had made a schedule for when he can come to the real world so you both can hangout and pamper each other or when he does his little sprees to kill victims - When he's in his little game hes always watching, making sure your okay you're happy, if there’s any sign you’re unhappy with a person they make you uncomfy they are dealt with personally - His god complex is high so is his ego you boost it for him a lot - Enjoys bringing back little items from his world to you though he enjoyed the face you made when he gave you a fluffy tail keychain that was quite big the yellow fur and white was beautiful - But when you noticed the dripping at the end where the keychain clip was pierced you pause staring at the tails cute fox videogame character missing one of his tails.. - He enjoyed pampering you he calls himself god he calls you his spouse - kisses are kind of hard to do due to his sharp teeth but hey it works for you both - Love language 100% would be gift giving and words of affirmation or 50/50 he's hard to understand - He does pull strings behind the scenes to keep you safe and make sure you are treated like the royalty you are - Even if he gets his hands dirty I mean he already has them bloodied with the past so whats wrong with another person who messed with you to be his next victim

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

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[cambion-companion]

whenever you have time, i NEED you to write something based on that ask you got about vhagar being super attached to aemond's girl 🥺

These requests are from November, so yes I am still working on the messages I have received! Thank you for them :)

I would love to expound more upon Vhagar bonding with the reader (you) especially after you and Aemond get married. The idea of dragons being intelligent enough to feel/recognize the bonds their riders have with other people is something I'd love to be canonized.

When Aemond could not find you within the walls of the Red Keep or honing your body in the training courtyard, he knew by now you were well outside the confines of King’s Landing, spending quality time with your newest best friend.

“I thought I would find you out here.”

You looked up with a smile at Aemond’s familiar velvet voice.  Your back was pressed against the iron dragonskin of Vhagar’s neck, a book of Targaryen history propped open upon your knees as you had been regaling the dragon with tales she would’ve been well familiar with.

“I needed to escape the stuffy sitting room for a while.” You agreed, feeling the rumbling purr growing within Vhagar as she acknowledged her rider’s presence.

You scooted into Aemond’s embrace as he took a seat on the soft earth beside you, peering briefly at the book you had been reading. “And what does Vhagar think about today’s reading material?”

You looked sideways up along the endless expanse of Vhagar’s neck to where her yellow eye watched the two of you.  You caught Aemond’s eye with a smirk. “No complaints so far.”

“Hmm.”  Aemond took the book from you, closing and setting it aside before taking your hands in his.  He leaned into your space, brushing his nose against yours before finding your lips in a chaste kiss. “One day I’m going to seek you out and find you’ve taken her out for a ride.”

Your heart stuttered in mild fear at the very thought. “That’ll be the day.”  You laughed as Aemond breathed a soft chuckle, tucking your head beneath his chin, his warm breath rustling your hair.

He held you for many moments as you basked in the warmth of his body and the continual rumbling of Vhagar as she shifted slightly at your back.

The three of you were alerted to the sound of many hooves thundering upon the earth as several riders cleared the hill.  Upon seeing the massive island-sized dragon laying before them their horses reared in fear, nearly sending several soldiers toppling to the ground.  Vhagar’s head became visible from your periphery as she growled low and deep, moving to position her snarling teeth in between where you and Aemond sat and the newcomers.

“Vhagar, gida.”  Aemond calmed the dragon with a word, though Vhagar did not move her head from its defensive position.

Aemond gave you a strange look which you mirrored right back at him. “Has she acted like this before?”

You shook your head, glancing to where you could see the sun glinting off dragon teeth the length of a man’s body.

“My prince!”  The leading rider called, unwilling to come any closer. “The king requests your presence at once!”

“Duty calls.”  Aemond sighed, rising to stand and brushing sand off his clothing. “Would you like to remain here or accompany me back to the city?”

You took his proffered hand and he helped you rise to your feet. “I’ll come back with you.”

At your movements Vhagar grumbled another deep sound of displeasure, her tail this time slithering around to block your path forward, even separating you from where Aemond stood.

“Vhagar!”  Aemond said almost reproachfully, looking to where Vhagar’s gaze was still fixated on the soldiers.  He shook his silver head in annoyance. “Seems she has become incorrigibly possessive of you overnight.”

“Vhagar.”  You called to the ancient she-dragon gently.  The yellow eye flicked briefly to you. “Nyke ȳgha.”  She seemed to relax at your Valyrian reassurance, allowing you to take Aemond’s hand again and proceed closer to where the soldiers waited.

“I haven’t a clue what’s gotten into her.”  You muttered to your husband.

Aemond shook his head in agreement as he glanced back toward where Vhagar still was growling low. “Perhaps she decided to take you on as a sort of dragonling…” He stopped mid-stride, color draining from his face as he turned to face you. “A child.”

“I am hardly her child, Aemond.”  You snickered, your smile dropping when his expression remained serious. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you…” Aemond shot a look to where the riders were obviously trying to listen in, he lowered his voice and leaned closer to you. “Are you with child?”

Your stomach swooped as shock coursed through you. “I-I don’t know.”

“Let’s pay a visit to the maester after dealing with whatever my brother wants.”  Aemond squeezed your hand briefly, unable to keep an excited grin off his angular face. He looked again at Vhagar, this time in mild wonder.  The grumbles and groans of the dragon faded away as the riders escorted the two of you back to the Keep.

Nine months later the kingdom welcomed the birth of their newest Targaryen princess.  

She grew to be very much like her father, in mannerisms and visage.  When she was old enough Aemond didn’t waste any time in introducing her to Vhagar.  

The old dragon seemed to already know who she was.