#s lion is canon in my heart

[manofbeskar]

caught

[lionfanged]

atticus has cameras all over his mansion.

for security? no.

to keep a close eye on his cats.

he doesn't even keep cameras in his penthouse suite, where he usually brings people back and there is a higher chance of items being stolen.

he can replace everything material, but his cats?? no. they are irreplaceable and need 24/7 monitoring.

[awearywritersworld]

there can be no covenants between men and lions

ryomen sukuna x reader summary: sukuna would rather contemplate your murder than come to terms with his feelings for you, but you call him out on his bullshit. w/c: 3k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. angst to fluff. aged up!yuuji. heavy kissing. features yuuji x reader and he is, of course, best boy. cursing. sukuna decides he wants to kill you (so obviously there are mentions of murder and such) but cant even stand the sight of you upset, what a goof. i'd once again like to think sukuna's not too ooc in this but im still more than likely delusional. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: i was so touched by all of the love that part one received, i wanted to try my hand at part two. i hope i've done it justice! just as part one references homer's the odyssey, this references homer's the illiad because sukuna is very hot and well read. achilles, the protagonist of the novel, is discussed. i'm definitely open to writing a part three, because this one is much heavier on the angst and i miss soft sukuna from part one. series masterlist // masterlist

you and yuuji rarely argue, but when you do, it's often over his aversion toward seriousness, even when a situation calls for it. though you really should have kept your mouth shut, because in this moment, you'd give anything to see his typical carefree expression.

his eyes are regarding you intently, taking in your flustered appearance with knitted brows.

"yuuji..." you trail off, wracking your brain for an explanation of your current predicament.

despite the fact he regained control of his body only moments ago, one of his hands is curled around the back of your neck, while the other is resting on your hip.

"baby, what happened?" he presses, the tone of his voice entirely unreadable.

"s-sukuna," is all you can manage to choke out.

his eyes darken immediately, his jaw tensing in a way that intimidates you. "he hurt you."

you really can't tell if it's a question or a statement, and your response comes a little too quickly. "no! that's not... no."

the next few seconds tick by in a slow sort of agony, heat creeping up your cheeks.

he notices for the first time that his head is eerily quiet. no snide remarks, no scathing commentary. just his own thoughts as he pieces together the situation.

his gaze drops to the angry, red marks littering your neck and you watch in helpless horror as understanding passes his features.

"oh."

the word hangs in the air as you await his reaction, fully anticipating disgust and betrayal. you're positive it's only a matter of time before he throws you out of the apartment and tells you to never come back.

what you don't expect, however, is the way his shoulders relax as the tension leaves his face.

he straightens himself, arms falling to his sides, but he doesn't put any distance between your bodies.

"how long have you...?" he's not quite sure how to phrase the question.

"a few months. this was the first time anything... um... happened. we usually just talk."

he tilts his head to the side, so you clarify. "after you've fallen asleep."

mulling over the information, he hums in response, looking thoughtful for a few more seconds. then, his usual demeanor is back and he grabs your hand. "wanna get dinner? i'm starving!"

he tugs you a few feet toward the door before you come to your senses. "woah, woah. wait a second, yu."

when he looks back at you expectantly, you find that his face holds not one hint of bitterness or judgement. "aren't you angry?"

you're amazed to find that he's the one looking sheepish.

"how could i be? it's not exactly easy to be with me when i have a thousand year old curse rattling around in my body, but you stay anyway," he expresses, making your heart soften. "i just want you to be safe, so i'll take whatever relationship the two of have now over him being a threat to you."

as your hands reach up to cradle his face and your eyes sparkle with adoration, you briefly wonder how you ever found such a sweet man. he places a quick kiss to your lips, the smile on his face easy going as ever. "sooooo, i'm thinking takoyaki or maybe udon—"

"we can get whatever you want," you glance at the spatters of blood across his chest left there from the mission, no doubt from sukuna's careless slaughter. "as long as you go wash up first."

"right!" he agrees quickly, bounding off to the bathroom.

you stand alone in the middle of your living room, left with the ghost of both yuuji and sukuna's lips against yours and a sense of bewildered excitement.

back in his prison, however, sukuna is furious with himself. he should have let you die that day he kept you from being run over. better yet, he should have killed you with his own hands before the brat won back control of his body.

he is a terrible being that delights in carnage, a fact that's well known even centuries later. so why, when he could have done anything in the world, did he go to you? you even asked that same question before you—

he rejects the memory of you pressing your lips to his disdainfully.

your foolishness and your naivete are revolting. your softness and your pliancy are nauseating.

he shouldn't have been anywhere near you, if not to rip your obnoxious heart from your chest like he'd always planned. it was a situation he'd dreamt about and now it's slipped through his fingers, even though those same fingers had graced your fragile little neck.

you were nothing more than a clueless mouse in the jaws of a snake, and though the pains of hunger have been tearing at its stomach for years now, the serpent let itself starve.

sukuna retreats to his domain, fingers prodding at his temples irritably. he allows himself to wallow for a few hours, shutting out both you and the brat.

then, steeling his resolve, he begins to watch and wait like the predator he knows himself to be.

lulled into a false sense of security regarding your safety, it's clear that yuuji has let his guard down. just barely so, but enough that sukuna can see a few weaknesses in his chains. ironic seeing that, now more than ever, the king of curses wants you dead.

it goes without saying that he promptly ceases his nightly interactions with you. it's beneath him, wasting his time with a human. he knows that now.

but while he may not speak to you, he cannot refrain from stealing glances as the days stretch on. you're usually reading, completely oblivious to his watchful eye. he convinces himself it's simply to keep tabs on you, as he's deemed you his foremost enemy.

he's not sure how much time has passed when you begin calling out for him in hushed whispers after yuuji falls asleep, the hurt and confusion in your voice plain to him. it's irksome, and evidently, you're incapable of taking a hint.

his silence becomes more painful with each turn of the moon. you're a bit mortified to find that you genuinely miss him, so you just want answers. did he finally realize that you're nothing special, not worth bothering with?

eventually, growing restless, you all but beg him. "sukuna, please. talk to me. what happened? what'd i do wrong?" his chest tightens with what he believes is vexation. "you can't just make me like you and then disappear. you can't kiss me like that and then—"

"you insolent, maddening little creature!" his eye flies open just in time to see you gasp, your body jerking away from him. "shut up already! can't you see i want nothing to do with you? don't you tire of being pathetic?"

you don't dignify him with a response, swallowing thickly and turning away from him.

finally, he thinks, some fucking quiet. though if he's gotten what he wanted, why does his chest still ache?

he stares at the back of your form until the sun rises.

sukuna is no simpleton. he can be patient when he is sure of a reward, but he's thrilled that the perfect opportunity arises just two days after your encounter.

yuuji is exhausted. gojo kept him out all last night, despite the grueling mission he had today, and when he all but stumbles through your apartment door, the moon is already high in the sky.

you never mention the change in your relationship with sukuna to yuuji. even though he was so understanding, you still feel a touch awkward discussing it further. and maybe in the back of your mind, you're holding out hope that it might go back to the way it was.

sukuna watches through yuuji's eyes when you greet him, your expression half concern and half 'i told you so'. nights out with gojo usually lead to this very situation.

he showers while you finish cooking dinner and once you both eat, he helps you clean up despite his exhaustion. after whispering his thanks and pressing a kiss to your temple, he retires to bed.

you promise you'll join him soon, but sukuna knows it probably isn't true. following his outburst, you've taken to staying in the living room until you're ready to sleep.

yuuji's out before his head hits the pillow and nearly two hours later, you're still not in bed. sukuna's eager, but waits until he's sure the brat's deep in his slumber before he tries to take over. it's relatively easy, and he pushes down yuuji's unconscious mind as far as he can before rising to his feet.

this is finally it. he stretches his limbs lazily, a dangerous smirk settling on his lips. the floor creaks with each step he takes, but he pays no mind to stealth. you're no match for him.

tonight, you'll be his first victim of many and the thought of making up for his past misjudgement has him giddy with excitement.

but the sight that greets him upon exiting the bedroom— you curled into yourself on the couch, your shoulders shaking with quiet sobs— it stops him in his tracks.

he wants to move, more than anything, so what the fuck is wrong with him? is the brat taking over already?

and why is that uncomfortable sensation making it's home in the center of his chest once more?

when you notice his presence, your face shifts to him and reveals your wide, teary eyes. it's clear you're surprised by his appearance, but you quickly bury your face in your knees.

you just want him to leave you alone. you hate him for what he said, for what he did. he forced his way into your life, made you care about him, and then he just vanished. he's cruel and you feel like an idiot because you should have known that from the beginning. or maybe you did and he just made you forget.

"go away. i.. i don't want to see you."

he's disbelieving, for a brief moment, that here you are giving him orders while he stands in the doorway with the intention of taking your life.

he moves toward you, invading your space in a way that is meant to be intimidating, but when you look up at him, every emotion ranging from sadness to rejection to indignation is etched into your features. though the terror he hoped to inspire is noticeably absent.

"i said go away!" you swiftly stand up, your hands meeting squarely with his chest as you push him with every ounce of power you have.

you may as well have shoved a brick wall, as he doesn't move even a fraction of an inch. he seizes one of your wrists anyway.

"what is it you think you're doing, exactly?" he spits.

"let go of me!" you beat against his chest with the hand he left free until his fingers wrap around that wrist too.

"enough."

he's certain there isn't a being that has attacked him (if he can even call that an attack) and lived to speak of it, not once in an entire millennia.

so just end the insolent brat and be done with it, he urges himself.

but he can't and he doesn't understand why, so he just stares down at you.

"what the fuck do you want?" you mean for it to come out forcefully and full of spite, but your voice cracks before you can finish.

an excellent question, indeed. what does he want?

he doesn't answer you and it's so goddamn frustrating that you begin to cry again, rambling to fill the discomforting silence. "you've already told me i'm pitiful and annoying. it's clear you think my company is insufferable, that i'm undesirable—"

that ache in his chest is unbearable now. it claws at his ribcage and shreds the flesh of his heart. it makes his stomach twist uncomfortably and rings shrilly in his ears. he can't even hear you anymore, but he can still see the tears sliding down your cheeks and the way you gasp between words.

the truth of the matter crashes down on him and the devastating weight of it is so crushing it squeezes the air from his lungs.

that feeling in his chest isn't annoyance or repugnance. its anguish— the kind that rattles his bones and leaves him sick with regret.

it's because you're in pain, and worse yet, he is the cause of it.

sukuna pushes you back against the wall before you can comprehend what's happening. his hands find either side of your face and you're alarmed to find that he looks... frightened.

"what are you doing to me?" he pleads for an explanation, because he sure as hell doesn't have one.

how can one little human hold such power over him? it's unnatural. it defies all logic and reason.

you stare at him, open mouthed. his face is so close that his breath fans across your skin and it makes you feel dizzy.

"what are you talking about?" you finally ask.

"you should be dead right now," he frets, despair seeping into every word. "it should be easy."

it dawns on you that you should probably feel afraid, but you just don't. his touch is firm, but careful. and there's no malice to be found behind his eyes. "you're not making any sense."

he thinks back on the time you've spent together, trying to figure out how the hell he ended up here— him at your mercy, rather than you at his. he remembers the first time he made you laugh and considers that it may have been the beginning of his unraveling. for the following two weeks, you both discussed homer at length as you made your way through his poetry.

"there can be no covenants between men and lions. wolves and lambs can never be of one mind, but hate each other through and through." you blink at him, recognizing at once that he's quoting the illiad. his voice is low and unsteady in a way that suggests desperation. it makes you shiver. "therefore there can be no understanding between you and me, nor may there be any covenants between us, till one or other shall fall."

your eyes narrow as you begin to understand his his internal struggle, though you're unsure if he's attempting to reason with you or with himself.

"you quote achilles, and rightfully so i suppose, given your common qualities— exasperating pride and a penchant for meaningless violence." he looks relieved, like your seeming agreement eases his mind. it's short lived. "but you forget his passion."

his gaze shifts away from you, his hands withdrawing from your face.

"his passion?" he repeats as if it's the most incredulous thing he's ever heard.

"by the end of the story, is he not acquainted with regret, sympathy, and respect? he doesn't remain blind to the error of his ways forever."

"only a foolish human could make such fanciful deductions," he chides through gritted teeth, still refusing to meet your eye.

you actually laugh at him. "perhaps you shouldn't call upon achilles to make your point after all. at least he grows out of his utterly childish view of the world."

"how dare you?" he demands, his features growing wild as one hand finds your throat (his touch not nearly harsh enough to cause you any discomfort), the other colliding with the wall beside your head. his display doesn't fool you though. "you witless, wretched brat! you're nothing more than a blip in a universe you cannot even begin to understand. you sicken me."

you throw achilles' words in his face just as easily as he did to you. "hateful to me as the gates of hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another."

his gaze hardens, and for a split second, you think you may have been mistaken in your fearlessness, but then his fingers thread themselves through your hair and he pulls your lips to his.

it's rough and commanding, and he tells himself it's only to get you to shut up. to wipe that expression of smug pity from your face.

it's not because, despite the fact you know how awful he is, you're convinced there's something salvageable in him too. nor is it because you tyrannize his every passing thought. and it's certainly not because the feeling of you pressed against him brings him more satisfaction than ripping the hearts from the chests of a hundred men.

ultimately, his denial is overshadowed by his desire. your touch is nothing short of needy as you tug at his shirt, an attempt to bring him even closer, and god does he hope that means you feel just as desperate as he does. he deserves at least a little consolation.

as his hands roam every valley and curve of your body, he deems it unfair that a being whose very existence spells hell on earth should be so taken with such a devastatingly divine creature.

"i've wanted you so terribly," he mumbles against your mouth before he can stop himself.

"then fuck you for making us both wait," you breath out.

his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips in response and his lips shift to your neck. "watch that pretty little mouth of yours, brat."

he nips at the spot just below your ear hard enough that it makes you gasp, doubtless a punishment for your impudence. you recover quickly though, wasting no time with your flippant reply. "or what? you'll go back to plotting my murder?"

he pulls away from you abruptly, sighing deeply and pinching the bridge of his nose. "you truly have zero sense of self preservation, don't you?"

"guess so," you shrug, smiling at him bashfully. "can we watch a movie? i'll even let you pick."

you ask as if it's the most normal request in the world. as if he isn't a thousand year old curse that would be off turning the city to ash were he not here with you instead.

he rolls his eyes, scoffing at the ridiculousness of it all. "fine."

[mellosdrawings]

2 questions, any tips on drawing Leona’s hair?

And which Twst character do you feel have the more challenging hair to draw if so do you have any advice to simplify them? If that makes sense…? Hairstyles were never my strong point in drawing.

Funny you mention Leona, Anon...

He must be the one guy with Jamil I draw the most, and I still can't get his hair right because I think his canon hairstyle SUCKS!

So, uh, yeah, here goes how I try and fail to do his hair :

1. Hairline and Ears placement

His hairline isn't really visible in canon, but I tend to draw him a heart shaped hairline. Ears are pretty much on the edge of his face, try to keep enough space for an invisible third ear between them.

2. Hair direction and separation

Leona's hair all separate from the very point above his left eye, so you can draw a line there.

3. Right bangs

Alright, let's start with the fun. Leona's bangs are long enough to hide his scarred eye, but not so present that they actually do. The bangs fan out to the exterior, all in the same direction.

Keep your movements fluid starting from this step. If you want a fluffy and soft effect, you need to draw curves.

4. Left bangs

Here I deviate from the canon. Vil and Leona have similar bangs but in mirror. To accentuate the difference since I draw them together a lot, I keep Vil's bangs going outward while I have Leona's left bangs keep the same direction as right bangs. If you wanna follow canon though, make it all go outward.

5. Hair point (how the hell do you call that thing in english?)

Starting from Leona's bangs separation, draw the hair direction. Full curves for hair that go to the back, and forking back upward for hair that go to the sides.

6. All Hell Breaks Lose

That's where I officially ignore canon. I want my floofy lion mane and I shall get it! Take Leona's shoulders or clavicle ends as landmark and go wild with the hair. The general shape looks like a pear for me.

There is no real shape to follow otherwise. Simply draw a bunch of elongated S of various shapes and sizes, make it go inward and outward, make them cross. Repeat and erase and do it again until the shape suits your eyes.

7 and 8. Braids

Leona's braids usually start right under his bangs, where usual human ears should be. I make them start a bit further down the back and hide the starts of them with rogue hair.

There you go. Leona's hair!

Basically just go wild with them xD

[novaursa]

Legacy (dragonstone)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Paring: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: The canon plot doesn't match the timeline of this story.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: contingency

- Next part: of bloodline

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi @alkadri-layal

The air on Dragonstone was thick with the salt of the Narrow Sea, carried by the ever-present winds that swept over the volcanic cliffs. The castle stood stoic against the horizon, its black stone spires jagged and ancient, looming as a reminder of a time when dragons ruled the skies and their riders held the world in awe.

In one of the smaller courtyards, where the breeze was calmer and the sun bathed the stone with a golden glow, you sat with Damon. The boy, now walking on his own, toddled across the soft grass with surprising determination. His tiny hands reached for the wooden dragon toy you had set before him, and he squealed with delight as he gripped it, waving it triumphantly.

A faint smile touched your lips as you watched him, your heart full at the sight of his uncontainable joy. “Careful, little one,” you murmured, rising slightly from your seat to steady him as he wobbled.

Behind you, Jaime Lannister leaned against the stone railing of the terrace overlooking the courtyard. His golden hand rested lightly against the edge, the faint wind tousling his hair as he watched Damon with a faint, unreadable expression.

“You’re good with him,” Jaime said after a moment, his voice breaking the peaceful silence.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, your lips curving faintly. “He makes it easy. He’s a bright, happy boy.”

Jaime nodded, his gaze lingering on Damon as the child turned to you with a wide, toothy grin. “He’s strong,” Jaime said softly. “Like his mother.”

“And his father,” you added with a wry smile.

Jaime huffed a quiet laugh. “Yes, well, the Lion of Casterly Rock would never admit to anything less.” He pushed off the railing and moved closer, standing beside you as he continued to watch Damon toddle across the grass.

For a moment, there was silence, save for Damon’s delighted giggles as he waved his toy dragon in the air. Then, Jaime spoke again, his tone softer, more contemplative. “Do you remember that festival?”

You frowned faintly, glancing up at him. “Which festival?”

“All those years ago,” Jaime said, his green eyes distant as though looking through the fog of memory. “When King Aerys—your father—still sat the throne. The festival in honor of his reign, in King’s Landing.”

Your brows furrowed as you thought back, the faint recollection stirring something in your chest. “I remember,” you said slowly. “It was a grand affair, full of spectacle and excess. My father loved such displays.”

Jaime nodded, his expression shadowed. “It was more than that. He… ranted. You must remember. He spoke of fire, of dragons returning to the world. He was restless, agitated, but then—he said something else.”

“What did he say?” you asked, your voice careful, your gaze fixed on Jaime.

Jaime’s jaw tightened slightly, his golden hand flexing at his side. “He said, ‘The fire will come again, and with it, the one who will command it.’ At the time, we all thought it was just more of his madness. Another delusion.”

Your heart clenched faintly, unease settling in your chest. “And now?”

Jaime turned to look at you fully, his eyes focused. “Now I wonder if he saw something more than madness. Something connected to you… and Viserion.”

The name of the she-dragon hung heavy in the air, her presence felt even when she was not near. Damon let out a happy squeal as he tumbled into the grass, his tiny fists clutching the wooden dragon, oblivious to the weight of the conversation around him.

“You think my father saw this?” you asked softly, your voice laced with disbelief. “Viserion, Damon, me—do you believe he foresaw it?”

Jaime shrugged, though there was a stiffness in his posture that belied his nonchalance. “I don’t know what to believe. But the way he spoke that day, it wasn’t like the other times. There was something… different. Something almost lucid, as though he were speaking a truth he couldn’t fully understand.”

You exhaled slowly, your gaze dropping to Damon as he sat in the grass, happily babbling to himself. “He was a man consumed by fire and shadows,” you said quietly. “His mind was broken long before that festival. Perhaps he glimpsed something, or perhaps he was just lost in his own madness.”

Jaime studied you for a moment, his tone softening. “And yet, here we are. A dragon at your command, a son who carries both fire and a lion’s strength, and a husband who rules with an iron will. Tell me, Y/N, does it feel like coincidence?”

You hesitated, the question hanging heavy between you. Your thoughts drifted to your father’s descent, to the visions you had seen at the High Heart, to Viserion’s unexplainable bond with you.

“No,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “It doesn’t.”

Jaime nodded slowly, his gaze returning to Damon. “Then perhaps the Mad King wasn’t entirely mad. Perhaps he saw the fire in you, even then.”

You didn’t respond immediately, your thoughts too tangled to form words. Damon let out another delighted laugh, pulling your attention back to him. You knelt to scoop him up, holding him close as his tiny hands grasped at your hair, his innocent joy a balm against the heaviness in your chest.

“Whatever my father saw,” you said finally, your voice steady, “it doesn’t matter now. What matters is the future we shape for him”—you glanced at Damon—“and for the realm.”

Jaime watched you, his expression unreadable, though there was a faint trace of something like respect in his gaze. “Then let’s hope the fire that burns doesn’t consume us first.”

You nodded faintly, holding Damon close as you turned back toward the keep, the weight of Jaime’s words lingering in the air like the distant roar of a dragon.

The air inside the Dragonmont was oppressive, thick with heat and the faint metallic tang of sulfur. The torches along the stone walls flickered weakly, their light consumed by the vast shadow of Viserion, who lay coiled near the center of the chamber. Her cream-and-gold scales shone faintly in the low light, and her golden eyes followed every movement of the men below her with unnerving intensity.

The Lannister soldiers moved cautiously, hauling a fresh kill—an ox, its hide still streaked with blood—toward the she-dragon. The beast let out a low, rumbling growl, a sound that vibrated through the stone and sent shivers down the men’s spines. Her wings twitched slightly, a subtle reminder of her power, and her sharp claws scraped against the floor as she shifted her massive frame.

Tywin Lannister stood at a distance, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched the scene unfold. His expression was unreadable, though his posture betrayed his ever-present command. The men were careful, their movements precise, but Tywin’s presence alone was enough to ensure their discipline.

You entered the cavern quietly, your steps light on the stone floor. The heat wrapped around you like a heavy cloak, but your gaze was drawn immediately to Viserion. The she-dragon had grown since the last time you’d seen her fed—her body larger, her movements more deliberate, more dangerous.

“She’s grown,” you murmured as you approached Tywin’s side, your voice soft but steady.

Tywin glanced at you briefly before returning his gaze to the dragon. “As she should,” he replied. “A dragon that does not grow strong is a dragon that dies. She must be at her full strength if she is to deter our enemies.”

You studied Viserion, the flicker of fire deep within her throat visible as she sniffed the air, her growl growing louder. “Enemies… and other things,” you said quietly, your words laced with a deeper meaning.

Tywin’s sharp gaze flicked to you, his eyes narrowing slightly, though he said nothing. His silence, as always, carried weight.

Viserion let out a powerful roar, her wings unfurling slightly as the ox was finally dragged closer. The sound echoed through the cavern, sending the soldiers scrambling back, their faces pale as they retreated to a safer distance. The dragon lunged forward, her jaws snapping shut around the carcass with a sickening crunch.

Tywin turned from the scene, his expression composed as always, though there was a flicker of something colder in his eyes. “Come,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “This place is no setting for conversation.”

You followed him out of the Dragonmont, the cool night air beyond the entrance a welcome relief after the suffocating heat of the cavern. The stars above were scattered like shards of glass, and the faint crash of waves against the cliffs below filled the silence as Tywin led you back toward the castle.

When you reached the privacy of your chambers, Tywin’s demeanor shifted slightly. The sharp edges of his command softened as he turned to you, his gaze lingering as though weighing his words. “You’ve spent too much time with your visions,” he said at last, his tone low but steady. “Do not let them consume you.”

You met his gaze, your expression calm but firm. “And if they’re more than visions? If they’re warnings?”

Tywin studied you for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, with deliberate precision, he reached out, his hands resting on your arms as he drew you closer. “Then we will face them, as we have faced everything else,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a rare note of reassurance.

The tension in your shoulders eased slightly as you leaned into him, your head resting against his chest. His arms wrapped around you with a firmness that was both protective and grounding, his strength a quiet anchor against the storm of uncertainty within you.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you filled only by the faint crackle of the hearth and the distant roar of the sea. Tywin’s hand brushed gently along your back, a rare gesture of affection that spoke volumes in its quiet simplicity.

“You are stronger than you realize,” he said softly, his lips brushing against your hair. “Do not let shadows take that from you.”

You looked up at him, your gaze steady as you reached up to touch his face, your fingers brushing lightly against the hard lines of his jaw. “And you are far more than the lion the world sees,” you murmured.

His expression softened, just barely, as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. The weight of his presence, the solidity of his resolve, was a comfort unlike any other.

“Rest,” he said finally, his voice low but firm. “The world will demand enough of us come morning.”

And with that, he guided you toward the bed, his touch lingering as though he were reluctant to let you go, his rare moments of affection a reminder of the bond you had forged in fire and strength. Together, you faced the unknown, the weight of the realm and its secrets ever pressing—but for now, the shadows remained at bay.

The warmth of the hearth added to the quiet hum of the room, where the faint clinking of silverware and soft rustling of servants filled the silence. The table was modestly set compared to the grandeur of feasts, with fresh bread, fruit, and steaming plates of roasted fish caught from the Narrow Sea.

Tywin Lannister sat at the head of the table, his posture as rigid and commanding as ever, even during the quiet of breakfast. A goblet of wine rested beside his plate, untouched as he meticulously cut into his food. His pale green eyes were focused, though his expression was calm.

You sat beside him, Damon in a high-backed chair beside you, babbling happily as he clumsily grasped at bits of soft bread and fruit laid out for him. His wide eyes sparkled with curiosity as he looked at you, giggling when you handed him a small piece of pear.

“You’re enjoying yourself this morning,” you said softly to Damon, your tone warm.

The boy responded with a delighted squeal, dropping the pear piece and reaching for it again with chubby fingers. Tywin glanced at the display briefly, his expression unreadable as always, though his gaze lingered on his son for a moment longer than necessary.

“He’s restless,” Tywin observed, his voice calm but deliberate. “Perhaps too much excitement yesterday.”

You smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from Damon’s face. “He’s a boy, Tywin. It’s his nature to be curious.”

Tywin inclined his head slightly, though his sharp gaze shifted back to you. “And what mischief are you planning to indulge him with today?”

The hint of humor in his tone wasn’t lost on you, and you arched a brow, setting down your goblet of water. “Not mischief,” you replied smoothly. “I’ve been thinking about taking him flying with me.”

Tywin’s knife paused mid-motion over his plate, his gaze snapping to yours with a sudden intensity. “Flying,” he repeated, his tone even but edged with a hint of skepticism. “With Viserion.”

“Yes,” you said, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “She is my dragon. She would never harm him. I’ve been considering it for some time now.”

Tywin set his utensils down carefully, folding his hands on the table as he regarded you. “Do you think it wise to place our son on the back of a dragon at his age? He is barely walking, let alone capable of understanding the dangers involved.”

You leaned forward slightly, your voice calm but firm. “It isn’t about understanding the dangers, Tywin. It’s about bonding with her. He carries the blood of the dragon, as I do. He should know her, and she should know him.”

Tywin’s brows furrowed faintly, his sharp gaze assessing you. “He is a child, not a rider. This is not a matter of blood; it is a matter of safety.”

“I know you think of everything in terms of risk and gain,” you countered softly, your tone measured, “but this is different. Viserion already watches him as if she understands. She’s part of his legacy, Tywin. Part of ours. If not now, then when?”

Tywin was silent for a long moment, his eyes unyielding as they searched yours. Damon, oblivious to the conversation between his parents, clapped his hands happily, the piece of pear forgotten as he babbled incoherently.

Finally, Tywin exhaled through his nose, his voice calm but laced with authority. “You are determined.”

“I am,” you replied firmly.

He glanced at Damon, who was now gnawing on a piece of bread, his tiny fingers sticky with fruit juice. Tywin’s expression softened ever so slightly, though his tone remained resolute. “If you insist on this, then you will take every precaution. The saddle must be secure, and the flight must remain low and brief. I will not risk his safety for sentiment.”

You inclined your head, a faint smile curving your lips. “I wouldn’t dream of being careless. Thank you, Tywin.”

Tywin picked up his goblet of wine, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. “You would have done it regardless of my opinion.”

“Perhaps,” you said lightly, brushing Damon’s hair with your fingers. “But it’s easier when you agree.”

Tywin huffed faintly, though it wasn’t quite a laugh. He turned his attention back to his plate, though his gaze flicked occasionally to Damon, who continued to babble happily between bites.

As the morning light continued to fill the room, you felt a sense of anticipation building within you. Soon, Damon would take his first flight—not as a rider, not yet, but as part of something far greater.

And though Tywin’s stern presence remained a constant, you couldn’t ignore the faint glimmer of pride in his eyes as he watched his son, a lion born under the shadow of a dragon.

The warmth of the morning sun had given way to the cool shadows of the strategy chamber, where Tywin Lannister stood at a large table strewn with maps, missives, and sealed letters. A small brazier crackled in the corner, filling the room with the faint scent of smoke and iron. Varys, ever the picture of composed deference, stood a respectful distance away, his hands folded neatly in his flowing robes.

You lingered near the door, Damon balanced on your hip. His tiny hands were clutching the edge of your gown, his head resting against your shoulder as he dozed lightly after his morning meal. The room was quieter than usual, save for the occasional flick of paper or the soft scrape of Tywin’s quill against parchment.

Varys’s voice broke the silence, smooth and measured. “The Greyjoys have been notably restless in the past moons, my lord. Euron Greyjoy, in particular, has made waves. Rumors of his ventures to the east—exotic ships, dangerous alliances. I would advise keeping an eye on them.”

Tywin, who had been scanning a missive, did not look up. “The Greyjoys are a rabble, more pirate than ruler. They’ll amount to little unless someone more competent than Balon leads them.”

“Indeed,” Varys replied, his tone calm but pointed. “And yet, a rabble left unchecked can turn into a storm. Euron is ambitious, and ambition, as you know, can be as dangerous as fire.”

Tywin set the missive down and glanced at Varys. “I will not waste resources chasing rumors across the sea. If they dare bring trouble to Westeros, they will be dealt with.”

“As you say, my lord,” Varys said with a faint smile, inclining his head. “But it is often the smallest ripples that precede the greatest waves.”

Tywin’s expression remained impassive as he returned his attention to the documents before him. “Is that all?”

“For now,” Varys said, his pale eyes flickering briefly toward you and Damon. “Though I must commend Lady Y/N’s skill in diplomacy. The whispers from King’s Landing suggest her presence has quelled some of the more… vocal concerns.”

Your lips curved faintly, though you remained quiet, gently rocking Damon as he stirred against your shoulder. Tywin offered no response to Varys’s observation, his focus firmly on the papers before him.

With a final bow, Varys excused himself, gliding out of the room like a shadow.

The silence that followed was broken only by the faint crackle of the brazier and Damon’s soft breathing. You moved to a nearby chair, settling Damon down gently on your lap as he continued to doze. His tiny hand curled against your sleeve, and you smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

Tywin’s voice, calm but unexpectedly casual, cut through the quiet. “Do you want another child?”

You blinked, startled by the abruptness of the question. “What?”

Tywin didn’t look up, his eyes scanning a document in his hand. “Another child,” he repeated, his tone as matter-of-fact as if he were discussing troop movements. “Do you want one?”

You tilted your head, studying him carefully. “That’s a sudden question.”

Tywin finally set the document down, turning his gaze to you. His expression remained calm, though there was a flicker of something thoughtful in his eyes. “It’s a practical consideration. Damon is strong, but the realm’s future depends on legacy. Strength comes from numbers, especially in uncertain times.”

You glanced down at Damon, your fingers brushing over his tiny hand. “He is still so young, Tywin. I’m not sure I’m ready to think about another child so soon.”

Tywin’s gaze softened slightly, though his tone remained firm. “The decision is yours, but you should consider it. Our enemies grow bolder with each passing moon. A strong line ensures stability.”

You met his gaze, your voice calm but steady. “And what of love, Tywin? Do you want another child, or do you only want to strengthen the family name?”

Tywin’s expression didn’t change, though there was a pause before he spoke. “I want what is best for the realm. And for you.”

You tilted your head, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Sometimes, I wonder if you truly believe those two things can coexist.”

“They can,” he replied without hesitation. “When guided correctly.”

You sighed softly, turning your attention back to Damon, who stirred slightly in your lap. “I will think about it.”

Tywin inclined his head, as if satisfied with your answer, before returning his attention to the documents before him. But as he worked, his gaze flickered toward you and Damon more than once, the faintest trace of something unspoken lingering in his expression.

For now, the conversation was left hanging in the air, but the weight of it remained—a reminder of the delicate balance you both walked between duty and desire, between family and legacy.

The sky over Dragonstone was a perfect shade of blue, unmarred by clouds, with the salty wind sweeping in from the Narrow Sea. The sun hung high, casting light across the black stone of the ancient Targaryen keep. In the sprawling courtyard near the cliffs, a gathering of lords and ladies, along with Tywin Lannister and his retainers, stood in anticipation.

Viserion, the great she-dragon, loomed nearby. She stretched her wings wide, the movement sending a rush of air through the gathered crowd. The beast stood at the edge of the cliff, her massive frame poised as though she were preparing to leap into the sky. Her eyes followed every movement, every sound, her watchful gaze sharp as a blade.

You stood beside her, dressed in a riding gown reinforced with leather, your hair flowing freely in the breeze. At nearly two years old, Damon stood beside you, his chubby hands clutching at the edge of your cloak. His bright eyes were wide with curiosity, darting between you and Viserion as though he already understood the gravity of what was about to happen.

“Are you ready, my love?” you murmured to him, brushing a strand of his hair back. Damon responded with an excited squeal, his tiny hands reaching toward Viserion as though he could already claim the skies.

From a distance, Tywin watched, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes followed every movement with an intensity that left no room for doubt—he was scrutinizing everything, from your placement on the saddle to the way Viserion shifted her weight in response to your touch.

“Is it wise, my lord?” one of the visiting lords asked, his tone carrying a note of skepticism. “The boy is so young…”

Tywin’s gaze did not waver from you and Damon as he replied, his voice cold and resolute. “My son is a Targaryen as much as a Lannister. It is his birthright to know dragons.” He paused, his tone sharpening. “And his mother would not risk him lightly.”

The lord hesitated, clearly unconvinced but unwilling to press further under Tywin’s glare.

Nearby, Jaime Lannister leaned casually against a stone railing, watching the scene with mild curiosity. “You almost sound proud, Father,” he said, his voice low enough to be for Tywin alone. “A lion embracing the fire of Valyria.”

Tywin shot Jaime a stern look but said nothing, his focus returning to you as you adjusted the straps of the saddle on Viserion’s back.

You turned, carefully lifting Damon into the special riding harness you had commissioned for him. It secured him snugly against your chest, leaving your arms free to guide Viserion’s reins. The little boy laughed, wriggling with excitement as you climbed into the saddle, your movements practiced and sure.

“Easy now,” you murmured to Viserion, patting her side. The she-dragon rumbled in response, her body shifting slightly as she adjusted to your weight. Her massive head turned, one golden eye watching you as though awaiting your command.

From the cliff’s edge, Tywin’s voice carried over the wind. “Keep her low,” he called, his tone sharp. “No unnecessary risks.”

You glanced back at him, offering a faint smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Viserion let out a low growl, her wings extending fully as she began to crouch. Damon giggled again, his tiny hands reaching out as though he could grasp the sky itself. The crowd murmured nervously, several of the ladies clutching their cloaks as the dragon’s powerful muscles coiled in preparation.

With a single, mighty leap, Viserion launched herself into the air.

The force of her takeoff sent a rush of wind through the courtyard, scattering dust and causing the gathered lords and ladies to shield their faces. Tywin remained unmoving, his gaze following the dragon as she ascended into the sky.

Viserion’s wings beat powerfully, the sound like distant thunder as she soared upward. You guided her carefully, keeping the flight low and steady, circling the cliffs of Dragonstone. Damon’s laughter rang out like music, his joy uncontainable as he looked out over the vast expanse of sea and sky.

“Do you see, Damon?” you said softly, your voice carrying over the rush of wind. “This is what it means to be part of something greater. To touch the skies, to feel the fire in your blood.”

Viserion rumbled beneath you, her body moving with an ease that spoke of the bond you shared. The dragon’s eyes flicked back toward Damon, her gaze almost protective as she continued her steady flight.

From the courtyard, Tywin watched with a sharp eye, his expression unreadable. One of the retainers ventured to speak. “It’s… remarkable, my lord. To see them like this. The boy will grow into a legend.”

“He’ll grow into a man first,” Tywin replied coldly, though there was a faint flicker of pride in his tone. “Legends are only worth what they can achieve.”

Jaime smirked faintly. “And what about her?” he asked, nodding toward you and Viserion. “Your wife is already a legend.”

Tywin didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the dragon as she glided effortlessly through the sky. Finally, he said, “She’s my wife. That’s all that matters.”

As Viserion began her descent, the crowd murmured with awe, the unease in the air palpable as the dragon circled once more before landing gracefully on the cliff’s edge. The force of her wings stirred the air, sending cloaks billowing as you dismounted with practiced ease.

Damon was still laughing as you lifted him from the harness, his tiny hands reaching for Viserion as though he couldn’t bear to leave her side. You kissed his head, your heart full as you turned to face Tywin.

He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over you both with quiet intensity. “You’ve made your point,” he said, his tone clipped but not unkind. “He will know his legacy.”

“And he will be stronger for it,” you replied softly, meeting his gaze.

Tywin nodded once, his expression softening for the briefest of moments before he turned back to the waiting lords and ladies. Behind him, Viserion let out a low rumble, her eyes watching over you and Damon with a presence that felt almost… maternal.

The crowd began to disperse, the awe of the moment lingering in their whispers, but you stayed rooted where you were, your son cradled in your arms and the dragon at your back.

The cold wind whistled through the Wall, carrying with it the icy bite of the north. Castle Black stood as resolute as ever, its black stone walls a stark contrast against the endless white expanse beyond. The fires in the courtyard burned low, sending thin streams of smoke into the sky, their warmth doing little to stave off the relentless chill.

Jon Snow, now the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, stood in the common hall with Samwell Tarly, a mug of warmed ale clasped in his gloved hands. The room was sparse, lit by a few flickering torches, their flames casting long shadows over the rough-hewn wooden tables.

Sam sat across from him, bundled in layers to ward off the cold, his face pink from the wind. He was speaking animatedly, as he often did when his curiosity got the better of him, though Jon’s expression remained as stoic as ever.

“You must’ve heard by now,” Sam said, his tone hushed but excited, as though speaking of something forbidden. “About her. About… the dragon.”

Jon raised a brow, sipping his ale. “All of Westeros has heard, Sam.”

Sam leaned forward, his eyes wide with wonder. “Your mum. She has a dragon. Can you imagine? I mean, she raised you, taught you the ways of Winterfell, and now she rides a dragon. It’s… incredible.”

Jon’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. “She’s not my mother, not by blood.”

“Not by blood, no,” Sam agreed, waving his hand dismissively. “But in every other way that matters, she is. She raised you, didn’t she? Taught you to be honorable, like your father—like Ned Stark.”

Jon nodded, his expression softening. “She did. She was always there, even when I wasn’t easy to deal with. She never made me feel like a burden.”

Sam tilted his head, a curious smile playing on his lips. “And now she rides a dragon. A dragon, Jon. Can you imagine? What’s it like, knowing your mum commands something so… so legendary?”

Jon’s gaze drifted to the mug in his hands, his voice quiet but steady. “I don’t know. It’s strange. I remember her teaching me to care for the direwolves when we first found them. She told me to respect their wildness, their strength. Maybe it’s not so different with dragons.”

Sam let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Not so different, he says. A wolf’s one thing, but a dragon? Jon, that’s a creature of fire and fury. It could burn armies to ash.”

“She wouldn’t let it,” Jon said firmly, meeting Sam’s gaze. “She’s not like that. She’s… measured. Careful.”

Sam nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Still, it must be something. To know she’s out there, riding a dragon like the Targaryens of old. Like… like she’s from a story.”

Jon let out a faint huff of laughter, though there was no humor in it. “She always said dragons were more than fire. That they were a symbol of strength, of something ancient.” His voice softened, and he added, “I never thought I’d see the day she’d have one of her own.”

Sam’s brow furrowed as he studied Jon. “Do you think she’s happy? I mean, with all of it—being tied to a dragon, to… to the Lannisters.”

Jon hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know. She’s always done what she thought was best—for her, for her family. If she made that choice, it’s because she believed it was the right one.”

Sam nodded, though his expression remained contemplative. “And you? How does it feel, knowing she’s out there, riding a dragon, shaping the world in ways we can’t even imagine?”

Jon leaned back slightly, his gaze distant as though looking beyond the walls of Castle Black. “It feels… strange. Like the world’s moving faster than I can keep up with. But if anyone can tame a dragon and still hold onto who they are, it’s her.”

The two men sat in silence for a moment, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. Finally, Sam spoke, his tone quieter now. “She’d be proud of you, you know. Of what you’ve done here.”

Jon glanced at him, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Maybe. But I think she’d still tell me to stay out of trouble.”

Sam chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “That sounds like her.”

Jon’s smile faded as his thoughts drifted again, his mind filled with images of dragons, fire, and the woman who had been a mother to him in all the ways that mattered. Somewhere out there, beyond the Wall and the reach of the Night’s Watch, she was riding a beast of legend, carrying the weight of her choices and her legacy.

Sam leaned forward, his elbows resting on the worn wooden table, his curiosity etched into his round face. “Jon,” he began hesitantly, his voice softer now, “didn’t you say… when you were beyond the Wall, nearly a year ago—you thought you saw her?”

Jon stiffened slightly, his gaze dropping to the mug of ale in his hands. The memory stirred something uneasy within him, something he hadn’t fully allowed himself to confront. “I thought I did,” he said finally, his voice low, distant. “But it wasn’t… clear.”

Sam’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean? What did you see?”

Jon exhaled slowly, setting the mug down on the table as his hands rested flat against the wood. His eyes were shadowed, the weight of his recollection pressing heavily on his shoulders. “It was like a specter,” he said, his voice steady but laced with uncertainty. “Like she was there—but then she wasn’t. Like something from a dream.”

Sam straightened slightly, his curiosity piqued. “But it was her? You’re certain?”

Jon hesitated, his jaw tightening as he thought back to that moment. The icy winds of the far north, the endless expanse of white, the shadows that moved at the edges of his vision. And then… her. Or what he thought was her.

“She was hurt,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “There was blood. And her face… it looked like her, but different. As if the cold had reached inside her and—” He stopped, shaking his head. “It didn’t feel real. It felt like… like she was a memory trying to take shape.”

Sam leaned back, his expression contemplative. “A specter,” he repeated, his voice thoughtful. “The north is full of strange things, Jon. Ghosts, shadows, things that shouldn’t be. But if it was her—if even a part of her was there—maybe there’s something more to it.”

Jon glanced at Sam, his dark brows drawing together. “What are you saying, Sam?”

Sam shrugged slightly, though his tone remained serious. “Maybe there’s a reason you saw her. A connection. You said she raised you, taught you everything you know. Maybe that bond runs deeper than we understand.”

Jon frowned, his gaze drifting to the fire as he considered Sam’s words. “I don’t know, Sam. It felt… wrong. Like she wasn’t supposed to be there.”

“But what if she was?” Sam pressed gently. “What if she was trying to protect you? To warn you?”

Jon’s jaw tightened, his thoughts turning over the possibilities. The memory of her face, pale and distant, haunted him still. He had dismissed it at the time, chalking it up to exhaustion, to the tricks the north could play on a man’s mind. But now, with Sam’s words stirring doubts, he wasn’t so sure.

“If it was her,” Jon said slowly, his voice heavy, “then she was in pain. She didn’t speak. She just… looked at me. Like she was trying to tell me something, but she couldn’t.”

Sam’s expression softened, his gaze steady on Jon. “Do you regret not going after her?”

Jon shook his head, his voice firm. “There was nothing to go after. She was there, and then she wasn’t. Like a shadow disappearing in the light.”

The room fell into silence, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Sam fidgeted with the edge of his cloak, his thoughts clearly racing, while Jon stared into the fire, his expression unreadable.

Finally, Sam broke the quiet. “If it was her, Jon… maybe it’s not too late to find out why. Maybe she’s still connected to you, somehow.”

Jon didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the flames. The thought of her—of the woman who had been his mother in every way but blood—lingering out there, tied to him in ways he couldn’t comprehend, sent a shiver down his spine.

“I don’t know what it means, Sam,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “But if she’s out there, I hope she’s safe. That’s all I can hope for.”

Sam nodded, his expression thoughtful but filled with quiet determination. “Then maybe the north isn’t done with her yet. Or with you.”

Jon didn’t answer, the firelight flickering in his eyes as his mind drifted back to that frozen moment beyond the Wall, to the specter of the woman who had given him strength when he had none. And though he didn’t say it aloud, a part of him wondered if he would ever see her again—not as a shadow, but as the woman she truly was.

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏 YOUR DSB PLAYLIST!!! I keep seeing u talk about it and you have BANGERS on that pl

I think I have shared it before but back when I was only on like chapter 2 so its been buried and has changed ALOT- But here you go!!

Full list (and notes)

Oh No! (Tims "Grand plan")

Flight of the Crows (Running away from what he loves, of course)

Nobody (Self imposed curse of isolation)

Colors (Yes. (also just a fav tim song regardless of AU)

United in grief ( Acting as Timothy Drake)

Teen Idle (Mourning his youth, for a second time)

Gasoline (Tim breakdown in luxury vibes)

I cant fix you (I still religiously listen to fnaf fan songs, this one just fits)

Brother (MY COUNTRY ASS SNUCK IN- It doesnt even relate to the AU, I just love the vibe- if anything it fitd Dick towards Jason but thats besides the point)

Passing through (cant the future just wait) (Times running out)

Are you Satisfied? (Literally perfect song about his situation)

Look who's inside again (Again, Isolation)

Coffee (Internal struggle- but the caffine isnt the problem)

Digital Silence (Again, just in here for the vibes)

Over & Over (AMAZING imagining song, like a little movie)

Problems (Tim to Jason)

Oh Ana (Not even kidding, THE MOVIE song- (from breathing as tim bleeds out to the The Angel I couldnt kill just AHH)

Rat (Just a vibe)

Lotta True Crime (Not for Tim actually, but related)

Misery Meat (Mans is the rainbow fish)

Feel Better (Y E A H- No explination needed)

Arms Tonight (This but literally, though he wont admit it)

The Burning pile (Tim ignoring his problems for the "greater good")

Family Jewels (The Drakes.)

Devil Town (Life in Gotham, reminishing his Time as Robin w/ his old fam)

Hermit the Frog (Another "just a vibe")

Michelle (Not for Tim, but relevent :)

Girls (The horror in being Timothy)

Saint Bernard (THIS- THIS THIS THIS (literally so mmmm lore))(might make a PMV when the fic is finished just for THIS!!)

Washing Machine Heart (A vibe.)

The Bidding (Timothy but less ironically)

Seventeen (Tim and Timothy- also just "seventeen" when he died s o)

Cupid (He still loves them...)

Hidden in the sand (Memories.)

dumb dumb (Tim pulling off his shit, mostly Cardinal)

American Healthcare (glitzy) (Tim in his career)

Treehouse (STAY OFF MY LAWN!!!)

Worlds greatest actor (Rec by @ihavenotsleptindays my dear, and its perfect. Tim as Timothy, or are they one in the same??)

Rule #34 (Not for Tim, but TOO him :)

Harpy Hare (Im obsessed okay?)

Prom Queen (Beautiful tragedy all the people envy)

No place like home (Not what it seems)

Again & Again (Another "movie in my mind") song

Labryinth (Movie mind!! Lots of lore and distortion lol)

Youth (Tim being self aware, for once)

Just one Yesterday (YES YES YES YES)

Angry too (Just a vibe.)

Pompeii (He misses what things can never again be)

spy? (Two face.)

Lullaby of the False Hydra ( Once again, im obsessed but for diff reasons)

Sweet Hibuscus tea (GAHHH)

Lights out (Hype song- and Cardinal BAMF)

Nothings New (Tim repeating his whole life and yet failing all over again)

Little Lion man (He wasnt really doomed wasnt he?)

Guilded Lily (The awnser is no, its never enough)

Underground (Once again, Gotham.)

Cast the Bronze (More a canon Jason song actually, but I still adore)

Could Have been me (Not Tim :)

Savior (Duet- but with who??)

Take me home, country roads (The country got me again. And yeah Tim longing for home he lost)

[loosesodamarble]

Hello, I was the one who requested a few Nacht head canons that you wrote recently. I loved them so I'm here with one more request. It's a very long one so you can ignore it or take as much time as you want. So here it goes: How would the magic knight squads react if they find out one of their members has a crush on Nacht? How would things play out after that.

Oh my! Welcome back then, Anon! Glad you enjoyed them, despite their timing.

….......

Black Bulls

Everyone would have to pause and go "our Nacht Faust?"

And you'd have to confirm "yes, our Nacht Faust. As if there are any others."

Half the squad would bust out in hysterics.

The other half would be dead silent from shock.

Remember, Nacht's first impression with several members was... poor. To say the least. So hearing that you liked Nacht was an experience for everyone.

Asta and Yami are the first ones to cheer you and Nacht on though.

Followed by the likes of Noelle, Henry ("Henry, don't change the floor plans so their room are together. HENRY WAIT!"), Grey, and Gordon.

Vanessa and Finral would be down to set you and Nacht up on a date. And they'd throw in a makeover free of charge!

Gimodelo and the other devils are very excited to see Nacht get all romantic. They just want their master to be happy!

Don't be surprised if the Bulls start calling you to dinner later than the rest of them and doing the same to Nacht so you both are force to sit with each other at the only empty seats.

And there would be other schemes to keep you two in close proximity.

Really, the whole squad just wants to support their squadmates and friends in the very normal endeavor of starting a relationship.

Golden Dawn

William does his best to show a polite amount of interest in your crush. After Nacht's key role in the Spade Invasion, William feels he owes a debt to that man.

And William thinks that he can repay the debt by setting Nacht up with you since you've taken an interest in him.

At best, William offers you opportunities to visit in the Black Bulls' base (delivering paperwork or parcels) if you want to see Nacht in person.

David is the nosiest of the squad and will ask all the details. How you first met Nacht, when you started liking him, do you plan on confessing, etc.

You might start hanging around Yuno if you weren't already close with him. You know, to ask about Nacht's appearances at any vice captain meetings.

Blue Rose Knights

SHIP SHIP SHIP SHIP SHIP!

The ladies of the Blue Rose Knights are going to have your back if they find out about your crush on Nacht.

First Charlotte is blushing over Yami and now you for Nacht? It's like the squads are destined for something greater together!

The other squad members will insist that you and Charlotte have a double date with Nacht and Yami. Let your loves bloom together~!

It actually works out relatively well.

You keep Charlotte from panicking around Yami and in turn, Charlotte gives you plenty of openings to initiate conversation with Nacht.

And don't worry. Charlotte will shut down any egregious meddling from the squad.

Like say, locking you and Nacht in a closet without your grimoires so Nacht can't just shadow out of there.

Puli, the brains behind Operation Get the Devil (Host)'s Heart, is going to contrive of a lot of ridiculous scenarios though... Good luck.

Crimson Lion Kings

Nacht puts Fuegoleon on edge. His practices and demeanor aren't ideal in Fuegoleon's eyes but as a loyal Knight of Clover, Nacht is at least decent.

Fuegoleon warmly encourages you in pursuing Nacht. But he also warns you not to get too distracted.

"I don't have any romantic experiences to speak of but adding to your personal life is sure to give you more to fight for as a Knight."

It's just a nice way of saying that getting a boyfriend might improve your morale for work.../lh

Leopold doesn't know Nacht at all but he'd very willing to be your wingman by dragging you along to the Bulls' base when he goes to visit Asta.

I'm sure if you asked, Randall might bring your name up at a vice captain meeting and gauge Nacht's response.

Don't let Mereoleona catch you waffling on your feeling for too long. If she thinks you're being coward about your crush, then her hand might be forced and you'll find yourself doing volcano training alongside Nacht.

I say not in the sense that Mereo has an interest in romance, let alone others' romances, but I honestly think she'd get pissed off to know that a member of the Crimson Lions is being a coward about anything.

Other members of the squad would generally support you and urge you to do your best with getting Nacht's attention.

Silver Eagles

To me, the Silver Eagles are a squad wherein the members largely keep to themselves. It's mostly polite conversation with a bit of gossip from the noble circles.

Most of the Silver Eagles wouldn't pay much attention to your love life, if I'm to be honest.

However, they are an elitist squad (or at least that's their vibe) and with devil possession being Forbidden Magic, some might raise a brow at your crush.

"Even if he's a vice captain, that Faust man can't be anything but trouble. Especially if he's a Bull."

If Nozel hears of your crush, he'll have mixed opinions.

His opinion of devils and devil hosts is abysmally low due to his own history but Nacht proved himself a worthy ally and so not a horrible pick.

Nozel's bad at showing it but he does wish the best for you in your romance with Nacht. You are a member of his squad after all.

Like Fuegoleon, Nozel warns you not to let your infatuation get in the way of work.

Aqua Deers

The Aqua Deer has the vibe of being some free-spirited folks. Not so much as the Green Mantises or Black Bulls, but with a captain as young as Rill, the squad has learned to be able to accept anything.

"Following the captain's example and falling hard for someone, are we?" some will joke with you.

If you can catch Rill during his free time, he two of you could have a heart-to-heart and help each other sort through your crushes.

"Love can happen so suddenly, can't it?" Rill remarks. "Like bolt of lightning or like throwing a palette at an easel! It's bold and messy and scary too! But that's what makes it so amazing, huh?"

I imagine Fragil being a bit of a romantic so she might have some advice based on a romance novel or dating advice column if you went to her. But that's just what I think of her.

Coral Peacocks

Dorothy will be poking her nose into the business of your crush. No ifs, ands, or buts about it!

She's a bit of a gossip. So uh... prepare for Yami finding out via her loose lips.

In her sparse free time, Dorothy will encourage you to practice confessing to Nacht in her Glamour World.

Only to turn on you and tease you with her imaginary versions of Nacht.

This gif of Shouto form BNHA:

Dorothy creates a Nacht version of that to tease you. Good luck.

Kirsch will give you advice on how to be "beautiful" for Nacht to fall in love with you.

Green Praying Mantis

The folks in the Green Mantis squad are largely commoners. They're casual and a little wild.

So I'd imagine some of the more interested parties placing bets on how long it'll take for you to confess or maybe even betting on how you confess.

Some of the members might mention that Jack might've known Nacht in the past but going to him earns you the threat of being sliced apart (Jack being twin blind will be a sore spot for him from now on. No, this isn't relevant but I'm saying my piece.)

I dunno why but the Green Mantis squad gives off the vibes of inviting you and Nacht to a bar to let the alcohol break down your walls.

(Although if you're not a drinker of alcohol, that plan is a bust.)

The squad members would probably go out of their way to mess with the Black Bulls to get Nacht's attention for you.

Which... you might be thankful for the support or you might be horrified by their "plan."

They mean well, really.

Purple Orcas

All I can really say for the Purple Orcas is that Kaiser and her wife would be more than happy to give their insight on starting and maintaining a loving partnership.

[puppetmaster13u]

Meat Marionette #11?

Thinkin about the rogues in this Au, and like, the difference between their relationship with the bats vs this Au. 

 For example, Selina. I’ll admit I take a bit of inspiration from the 2022 movie and mix it with comic depictions along with the different cartoons, which honestly isn’t too different from each other by too much. Now, I don’t think that Catwoman would flirt with this version of Batman, what with his body being a meat puppet that is visibly not human and off putting. There’s also the fact that she would have been an early-ish rogue of his, at least in order of encounters. Which means that she probably encounters the Bat for the first time while Bruce was still getting used to said gifted body, which in turn was probably terrifying. So there’s still a cat and mouse game happening, but it’s more akin to Selina doing her darn best to avoid the Bat no matter what, because to her it isn’t above trying to kill. It’s like seeing a lion where you figure you’re safe at this distance, until it starts moving and you realize that you are definitely not far enough away. 

 Another rogue that I am thinking of is Harvey and Two-Face (Which DC, give Two-Face a proper name :/ he’s his own dude even if they share a body). Harvey was best friends with Bruce, hell they were practically high-school sweethearts in some cases! And Bruce still visits him in Arkham, canonically still talks and interacts with both his friend and TF. Now if anyone is going to notice the changes to Bruce, it’s going to be Harvey. He’s going to be the first to notice how Bruce’s movements are now dangerous and downright predatory, with too much grace even for a dancer or martial artist. There’s something familiar about that movement, and Harvey isn’t an idiot, TF isn’t one either. They know there’s something wrong with Bruce even if he insists he’s fine. In canon Harvey straight up broke down and cried when he found out Bruce was Batman, so I’m wondering what their reaction to this version of the bat would be…

 There’s also rogues like the Riddler and the Joker who are downright obsessed with Batman, but would they still be with this one? I could see Joker slowly becoming obsessed as the creatures continue to thwart him over and over again, but I’m still rotating Riddler. 

 But y’know who would definitely be obsessed with the batclan?

Scarecrow. The man is obsessed with studying fear, with the effects it has and how to cause it. So the bats, who bring terror wherever they go, with something about them continuously tingling at the back of ones’ more instinctive mind that this is something to fear? He would be utterly enthralled, he’d need to know more, he’d need to know Everything. Especially if his fear toxin doesn’t work right on them. After all, how would a gas effect something without lungs? How can you inject something that doesn’t have blood, that’s not quite alive, not in the way that we as humans understand? How can you cause fear of something that has stared into the Tunnels’ heart and lived? Or something like that lol. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AU is a combo of my cryptid batfam and @phoenixcatch7 's Possessed Doll au, go check them out, they're amazing

[ivyblossom]

Still going with this is outrageous and inappropriate love letter to Edmund Pevensie/Narnia fan novel that has already overtaken the word count of The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe and is rapidly heading towards lapping it.

I had originally hoped this might be a novella rather than a full on novel, but clearly I hadn't met myself back then. Sweet summer child of one month ago. Self-awareness is a valuable tool.

This is a smutty chapter, which I feel an urge to apologize for, because apparently I have some kind of guilt about that sort of thing. I don't know what that's about, what do I think we're doing here, gardening? I rated it explicit from the start, what do you want, right?

I'm not really a smut writer by nature, that's why everything I write is a slow burn, it takes me that long to work up to that stuff, which I fully acknowledge is valid anyway and doesn't have to have narrative significance, but I can't manage the write it unless I believe in my heart that it is narratively necessary, (see note about guilt above), and then I apologize about it for no reason anyway. But honestly, who cares? Right? I dunno, it's weird that I do this, but here I am. I put myself in this boat, I can't be allowed to feel sorry for myself.

But to be clear, I didn't just show up trying to find a way to make Narnia sluttier, a perfectly reasonable goal but genuinely not mine! I'm not the one who put the god of wine, ecstasy, and orgies in Narnia in the first place, that was C.S. Lewis, I'm just a fanfiction writer standing in front of AO3 asking it to accept her bizarre, canon-respectful Narnia smut that just got so much smuttier. Sorry everyone!

And of course AO3 says, "why are you asking me, just hit post, what is it you think we do here?"

This chapter was also the moment I've personally been waiting for, when one character finally recognizes what I've done to him and what's happening in this story and says, with great gravitas and insight: "—wait, what?" I've been looking forward to that.

Big props to Lucy in this chapter for being the only Pevensie who has a clue, as usual.

Also, I have given Peter Pevensie 90% of all the 1940s slang in this story for some reason, but I stand by that decision, it feels right. Peter is hip to the slang. Pip pip!

[mournivaldisco]

A master post of all my Warhammer fic.

Spot the post-rock titles.

Silly - crack/outside of canon, no smut:

Assorted Yarns from the Warp – random cracky one-shots about various characters

An Average Monday on Prospero – Primarch bodyswaps

The Primarchs Read Mean Tweets – self-explanatory

Never Have I Ever – primarch drinking games

Documentary Evidence – Dorn reviews Mersadie’s memory coils during her imprisonment

Sanguinala Silliness – in the 41st Millennium, Guilliman and the Lion try out Sanguinala customs. Works up to shipping, no smut.

Fluff or silly, but could technically take place in canon:

The Bear – Tarik tells his favourite joke to the Mournival

Mountain Heart – The Lion inhales sleepy cuddles pollen. Set on Sotha during the Unremembered Empire

Dreamtime – sleepy Sanguinius

Serious - missing scenes/reinterpretations close to canon, no shipping that would be unimaginable in canon (take with a pinch of salt if you are not a Loken/Mersadie shipper):

These are my favourite to write. Just taking the canon and pushing it a teeny bit.

And So I Watch You From Afar - Erda writes to her sons.

When the Sky is Burning, When the World is Falling Down – missing scene from The Solar War. Loken and Mersadie

These Depths Were Always Meant for Both of Us – written before EatD vols 2 and 3 released, set in upcoming books. Loken and Mersadie

The Death – written after finishing EatD 2, set in upcoming book 3. Loken, the Emperor and Horus, mentioned Sanguinius

Dynasty – written after finishing EatD 3, set some time immediately before the Siege. Horus and Fulgrim

After the Fall – written after finishing EatD 3, set at climax of that book. Loken and Mersadie

Serious/smut – doesn’t conform to established canon, heavier shipping:

Reconnect (WIP) – divergence at the point of The Solar War. Mersadie/Loken fluff in epistolary form. No smut

A Day Dark with Night (WIP) – Set immediately after Curze’s attack on Azkaellon. Sanguinius/Azkaellon. Will contain smut in future chapter

A Steamy Meeting – Guilliman, the Lion and Sanguinius in the bathhouse on Macragge during the Unremembered Empire era. Smut

Inconsequential – Set during Unremembered Empire era. Established Guilliman/Lion/Sanguinius. NB Sang coming out. No smut.

Vampires will Never Hurt You – Guilliman’s POV on the 41st Millennium, mourning Sanguinius, with flashbacks to Unremembered Empire era with G/L/S (smut). This is my favourite single thing I’ve written.

That Intimate Knowledge – written after finishing EatD 2, looking back at Horus/Sanguinius’ relationship. Little bit of smut

Scenes from a Reunion – written after reading The Lion: Son of the Forest. Technically not aligning with canon re Launciel and Galad because in canon it was just subtext

Experiments – Set in the 41st Millennium when Guilliman decides to remove the Armour of Fate. Smut starring Yvraine.

Sudatoria – Sanguinius and Guilliman in the bathhouse in Unremembered Empire era. Smut.

Quality Time – the Mournival discover porn. Smut

Closer – Sanguinius/Jaghatai set during the Siege. Smut

Nowhere, Still Somewhere - Loken/Abaddon angsty smut post EatD3

A Horus Heresy (WIP):

Series which became an AU Heresy. Everyone is bonking each other.

Heresy of the Free Spirit – Horus/Sanguinius first getting together, set after Melchior. The first Warhammer smut I ever wrote.

We’re Falling Through Space, You and Me – Loken and Mersadie getting together, set during Horus Rising. Smut (There’s a line in this which makes me giggle to re-read because it’s so abrupt, like Mersadie, slow down girl.)

The Time of Perfect Virtue – AU from Horus Rising events. Loken or Mersadie’s POV until later chapters. Smut and drama and heresy.

A Gathering – Fulgrim/Horus/Sanguinius threesome. Smut

Milestones – an OC from this AU contemplating things. Gen.

Come Ruin and Rapture (WIP) – continues the cliffhanger from the Time of Perfect Virtue. Smut and drama.

[the-al-chemist]

Happy Worldbuilding Wednesday! As you've written a fair bit about Charlie, I'm sure you've thought a lot about dragons by proxy. Are there any headcanons/ideas you have about dragons in your world (that Charlie is likely to talk about at length to people)? - @hphmmatthewluther

Well, look who is here asking me about things that I love to talk about. Dragons? Yes please. Charlie Weasley? Even more yes please.

So, I had a good think about dragons when it came to Learning to Fly. I’m a stickler to canon, so I knew I wanted them to be completely wild animals, but I needed to have Norbert(a) able to interact with Charlie. So, I based my “characterisation” of dragons on a few things, some of which made it into the story, some of which remained unpublished.

Until now.

I’m so sorry, you hit my nerdy/hyperfocus spot. This is such an essay of a response. I’m leaning into it with picture examples and everything…

Anatomy/Physiology

Firstly, I used birds as an inspiration. This is an obvious one, sort of. Generally, you have two different dragon appearances in recent western fantasy: either they have four legs plus a pair of wings or their wings are their front limbs. In the Harry Potter films, they use the latter. It’s less cute, but makes more sense in terms of them actually being able to fly.

All the terms I used to describe Norbert(a)’s body parts were anatomical terms for these body parts in birds, e.g. the keel. The keel is the breastbone, and in birds the muscles used for flight all attach here in order to keep the centre of gravity low on the body for flight. There are tendons that then extend up through a loop of bone and act as pulleys for their wings, the bones of which are actually very similar to our own arms, if you look closely.

As well as their flight mechanisms, birds have a bellows system of air sacs that I wanted to borrow for my dragons. Birds use these for respiration (think about oxygen at high altitudes during flight), but for my dragons, they have another purpose. Because, what else needs oxygen? What is it that dragons are most famous for? What is responsible for those burns on Charlie’s arms?

Fire.

I am not much of a reptile expert, so I didn’t take much in the way of inspiration from reptiles when writing about my dragons. I do, however, have the headcanon that, like all reptiles, dragons are cold-blooded. Most physiological adaptations have more than one purpose, and so, my dragons don’t just use fire for hunting and defence purposes — they use it to keep themselves warm. They produce the flames in their thorax, where there is a good oxygen supply and the blood can be warmed easily due the proximity to the heart, and the muscles and thick bone of the keel are able to protect it.

Behaviour

I used more elements of dog behaviour when writing Learning to Fly than anything else, for the simple reason that it is the animal body language I understand best and that I thought most readers would understand best. However, I would argue that dragons are far more like cat species than dogs in regard to their behaviour, so I included some cat-like tendencies as well.

Dogs are social creatures, and most of their behaviours have evolved in order to maintain order within a pack. They hunt in packs, roam in packs, raise offspring in packs. Other than lions, cats are usually solitary creatures, only joining together as adults to mate. There are exceptions, of course, but this is usually the rule. The same goes for dragons, from what we see in canon. Therefore, their behaviour will largely be based on avoiding conflict in order to avoid injury to themselves, and on solitary hunting. I did put this in with Norbert(a) — in one of the final chapters, she engages in play behaviour by mimicking hunting, like a cat.

I also took a lot of inspiration from orcas, mainly in respect to the ethical arguments surrounding their captivity. If you haven’t seen Blackfish, you should definitely do so. I headcanon dragons to be immensely powerful and intelligent beings with wide roaming ranges, who do not cope well in captivity. In canon, it is known that dragons are too dangerous to keep as pets, and judging by the treatment of the Gringotts dragon, the ones that are kept in captivity do not lead happy and fulfilled lives.

I have written several times that dragons kept in captivity suffer from severe impairments to their physical and emotional health, to the point that they have reduced length of life as well as quality of life compared to their wild counterparts. Most of that has been in the form of dialogue from Charlie.

Three guesses what is the thing he really won’t shut up about…

[buckybarnesss]

on fire: a teen wolf novel chapters 1-3

on fire was published on july 17, 2012. the day after raving had aired during the show's second season.

it was written by nancy holder who has written many, many tie-in books for multiple franchises but most notably she wrote novels for the buffyverse.

by tapping nancy holder to write the novel confirms to me that mtv was trying to do what teen wolf's spiritual predecessors did and create tie-in novels with the show and on fire was testing the waters for that.

it did not succeed because teen wolf doesn't have the kind of space for that. the timeline is too tight. teen wolf was part of the new netflix binge era. it had a seasons of 12 episodes that were wall-to-wall plot. there weren't silly filler episodes and they didn't do monster of the week plots.

on fire assumes that you have seen episodes 1-5 of the show but it is also an AU of season 1 post-the tell.

i get the vibe that the author was given notes, some information or like an outline that she used to build a plot so it's interesting to see what tid-bits holder uses and refers to that still gel with canon or is consistent with what we know.

this isn't a novelization of season 1 that's for sure but, hey, i took notes.

i'm going to break the novel up into 3 chapter chunks.

so without further ado let's get into it. on fire: a teen wolf novel or as i've been thinkin of it as.

the novel starts right at the very end of the tell after the parent teacher conferences. 

the way it's described when argent shoots the mountain lion brings to mind the scene in to kill a mockingbird when atticus shoots the rabid dog. chris argent is no atticus finch but he sure does learn to walk a mile in someone else's shoes doesn't he?

i somehow always manage to forget that the tell is the episode where allison turns 17. she doesn’t live to see her 18th birthday. shot through the heart man. 

oh my fucking god scott. the way this is written i imagine holder is trying to invoke derek and kate as if there’s some wild age gap between him and allison when they're like 9 months apart in age. allison is not kate jesus chris. look at this shit:

“scott hadn’t known allison was seventeen, a year older than the other kids in their class -- older than him -- and didn’t want anyone to know.”

Fuck Rafael McCall. Meet me outside and catch these hands.

“he knew his dad wasn’t keeping up with child support payments. not that his mom had ever mentioned it.”

this is where the transition into heart monitor would be. it is a pretty terrifying dream scott has. peter’s such a dramatic bitch. scott’s dreaming of being in the woods with everything on fire and then he’s being compelled by peter to come kill with him. which just reinforces my whole thing about peter and scott being psychically connected. we don’t see this with any other alpha-beta connection to this degree. derek senses victoria killing scott in raving but we really do not get this in the show very much as it seems to be a Dark Sided power. but we do see peter use it again in season 6a with the whole “you were my beta first” scene. 

scott mentions stiles’s having ADHD so to me that means that nancy holder was definitely working with the idea that stiles does have it. stiles having ADHD seems like a plot thread that got dropped really quickly by the show but remained in dylan’s acting choices and in fandom’s mind.

scott is the only beta we see experience sleepwalking episodes. it seems tied to the compulsion and mental link he shares with feral alpha peter.

the entire paragraph is something. firstly, it wasn't until night school, the episode after this one, that peter tried to push scott into killing his “pack”. but lol melissa called stiles scott’s “litter mate” and stiles wearing his target shirt that he wore in wolf moon and the one that subtextually could reference the nemeton and eventually scott's pack symbol. i don't believe we ever actually saw that shirt again. the tragedy.

“stiles had on his bullseye t-shirt, and it kind of freaked scott out when he wore it. as if it meant that stiles were a target. They both knew the Alpha wanted Scott to kill him to cement Scott’s acceptance that he was a member of the Alpha’s pack. Who better to take down than the guy Scott’s mom had once referred to as his “litter mate”?”

this is where it's starting to get kind of weird because the plot of this book takes place during season 1 but it’s not strictly following the plot. it feels like an alternate season 1.

jackson has gone missing. when is he not missing is the more appropriate question? 

so chapter 2 starts with scott and stiles joining lydia and allison at The Popular Kids Table to discuss jackson being missing. this wouldn’t have happened in season 1. this dynamic didn’t exist until at minimum season 3. lydia didn’t even acknowledge stiles’s existence until the winter formal at the end of the season. 

jackson’s parents apparently went to paris right after the parent-teacher conference, leaving their high school age child alone for an extended period of time in the middle of the school year? what? no wonder jackson’s fucked up. why didn’t they just go around christmas and instead they waited another three weeks or some shit. that is weird.

jackson’s been left a note from a supposed private investigator about his birth parents while his parents are out of town, which is totally not sus at all. 🙄🙄 lydia's concerned about him looking stupid so she won’t go to the sheriff and she doesn’t even approach jackson’s best friend danny. like, danny would know a lot more about jackson than scott or stiles would. lydia, i know allison is the one who involved scott but for fuck’s sake. 

look even a page later lydia says “he and jackson barely know each other.” then why are you involving scott in what you seem to believe is a personal matter? 

do people just generally know jackson was adopted? i can see lydia knowing but scott and stiles? allison just fucking moved there so she doesn’t know anything about anyone. this is quite the personal piece of information i doubt he’d want others to know lydia. 

this is such an AU because after the parent-teacher conference stiles was giving scott the cold shoulder due to his dad being hurt. 

also stiles is supposedly sitting at this table the entire time lydia, allison and scott are talking and has not given his opinion on the matter yet. very unlike him. if there's one thing stiles has it's opinions on jackson and his father's job. stiles would be all over this.

this fucking line is brutal man -- “stiles was the only person on the planet who knew he had become a werewolf. well, derek knew, too, but derek hardly counted as a person.” that said, i do think it’s accurate to scott’s headspace at this point regarding derek. avoiding seeing derek as a person is a way of detaching himself from the situation he’s found himself in. 

alright so we’ve got a POV change to allison --a nd it’s all about how cute acott is. allison I love you but chill please. 

okay so this is interesting. “her mom had been angry, too. allison could tell that if had been left up to her, she wouldn’t have been so harsh about having to stay all weekend. her mom liked scott.” are we sure we’re talking about the same victoria argent? granted this is pre-werewolf reveal so as far as victoria knows allison is just mooning over a nice normal human boy but i have a hard time imagining this being the same victoria who gave us the crazy eyes and the sharpening your dick metaphor.

this still haunts me.

"except i won’t get to spend time with scott except at school until i’m, oh, 112.” oh right in the feels

this book really assumes you’ve seen episodes 1-5 of the first season. allison’s mentioning aunt kate and the necklace in a way that makes the assumption the reader knows who and what they are. 

jackson’s password for his tracking app is “captain”. that is worse than the password being lydia or like scott famously having allison as his password. y’all suck and have shitty computer security.

these kids are sophomores in high school and lydia and allison are really having a discussion about jackson going to a pay by the hour motel as if that’s a thing 15-16 year olds do in the california subburbs on a regular basis. as if jackson would lower himself in such a way to begin with. he’s snobby as fuck. it’s such a weird conversation.

i am page 20 and i feel like so far this author hasn’t been very nice to stiles. not having him say a word in the lunch conversation about jackson despite not only being very opinionated about jackson whittermore’s general existence he’d also have thoughts on a missing person. like, he didn’t even speak when his dad was brought up as a possible avenue of help which is odd. then about a page later there’s this sort of tone used around stiles that feels condescending about him being hyperactive.

this paragraph is, uh, something that could’ve only been written in 2012 because it feels gross:

“lydia shrugged. then she turned to allison. “tell you what. if the boys are willing to the motel for us ---” “to a motel. to look for a guy,” stiles said. ”maybe you should ask danny?” danny, their lacrosse team goalie, was gay, out and proud. “he could act, you know, more casual about it.”

that said, it does track with stiles being overly occupied with the perception of his sexuality and that danny does shit he’s way too young to be doing which is written around his sexuality. remember the whole older boyfriend and going to the jungle thing is season 2? 

it has been like 23 pages and allison’s got this subplot where she wants to have sex with scott. like girlie you’ve known scott for 2 days, keep your pants on. (it keeps coming up with scott too and it's annoying, okay).

it took stiles barely a paragraph to mention derek hale when the point of view switched to him. sir. 

i’m laughing at how derek’s point of view is paired with stiles in the way that scott and allison’s are. even in the non-canon book the Sterek Agenda is there. 

“a prankster with a wicked sense of humor.” is what derek refers to peter as before the fire. is that what we are calling it derek because i would disagree.

“i dreamed of other alphas coming after me. why? it’s not a crime to kill an alpha. i’m a werewolf. the way we progress in status is through challenge.” now this is an interesting perspective. werewolves progress via challenges. that's still sort of in-line with what we see in canon.

allison and scott are driving into the seedier side of town. AKA what seems to be where the poors live. scott describes seeing boarded up buildings, pawn shops and “some kind of clinic where you could sell your blood.” which I assume is a plasma center where people donate and get paid in return and this little classist shit says “remind me to never get a blood transfusion.” god he’s such a 16 year old..

i saw kate's name on the next page where chapter 4 is

[ashenprofessor]

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is.

Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing!

Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together.

Name: Rua

Pronouns: they/he

Birthday (no year): 02/10 (I share my birth with Kaze and am also a twin!)

Where are you from? What is your time zone? From UK, GMT

How long is your roleplay experience? however long Byleth has been in TOA

How were you introduced to roleplaying as a whole? tbh, I'm not even sure. Just found TOA somehow despite not really being a tumblr user and yeah... here I am.

How were you introduced to TOA? see above answer

Do you have any pets? Yes. A black void cat who's mine and family dog.

What is your favorite time of year and why?(Season, holiday, general period) Autumn because the temperatures mean can snuggle up with games/book/videos but not freeze your ass off. Plus autumn colour is so pretty.

What is your IRL occupation? Structural Engineer

Some interests and things you like/enjoy? I like fantasy and sci-fi books, playing boardgames and rock climbing.

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? Kingdom hearts, Professor Layton, Persona, Yakuza (Like a dragon), Pokemon, Final Fantasy, lot's of games really 😅

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: Dark type. Lycanrock (Duskform)

Tell us some funfacts and trivia about yourself! I'm a black belt in taekwondo, I like to crochet and I've just started learning drums.

How did you get into Fire Emblem? I bought Awakening after watching a top 10 3ds games video where it was described as 3d chess. Played a bit then got very invested in Fates as it was releasing. Bought my copy birthright with first ever paycheck.

What Fire Emblem games have you played? Engage, 3Houses and 3Hopes, Fates, Awakening, Echoes, Warriors (started), Fire Emblem Binding Blade (Currently playing)

First & Favorite Fire Emblem games: first was technically Awakening but I didn't finish it till 2023. First finished was 3 houses. My favourite? Either fates or 3 Houses.

List your 5 favorite Fire Emblem characters across the series! Byleth, Shez, Kaze, Dimitri, Xander

Who was the first character ever to make you go “ooh I like this one in particular” and why? Can be any context and reason! Dimitri for his story arc. And eyepatch. And later hairstyle.

Any Fire Emblem crushes?

If you’ve played (or are familiar with) the following games, who was your first S support? Who would you S support nowadays?- Awakening:- Fates:- Three Houses:- Engage:

Favorite Fire Emblem class?

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class and stats? Would you be playable? Ninja or tactician.

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? (Black Eagles, Blue Lions, Golden Deer, Church of Seiros, Those Who Slither in the Dark, unaffiliated civilian, other - for example Almyran) Blue Lions

If you were an Officers Academy student, what would be your boons, banes and potential budding talent? Boon: Reason Bane: Heavy Armour. Budding Talent: Gauntlets

If you were an Engage character, which nation would you originate from? (Firene, the Kingdom of Abundance; Brodia, the Kingdom of Might; Elusia, the Kingdom of Knowledge; Solm, the Queendom of Freedom; Lythos, the holy land of the Divine Dragon; Gradlon, the desolate land of the Fell Dragon)

How do you pronounce TOA? T-O-A

Current TOA muses: Byleth

Past TOA muses? Chrom, Shez, Dimitri

Who was your first TOA muse? If you no longer have them, can you see yourself picking them up again? Byleth. Don't think I could ever drop them.

Do you believe you have a type of character you gravitate towards writing? Mostly with MC as less anxiety of getting the portrayal or lore/canon wrong. I do like Lords too.

Do you have characters or types of characters you don’t think you can handle writing, but wish you could? I wish I could write a soft/tragic character which people would love/protect. Or a complete arsehole but I always feel bad being too mean.

What kind of scenes, situations etc do you believe you enjoy writing the most? I've really enjoyed writing pokemon AUs and word count challenges.

Do you have any scenario in mind for your muse(s) that gets you thinking “man I hope I get to write this one day”? Maybe some other type of AU which aligns with other interests like Persona/KH/ Camp Half-blood etc.

Favorite TOA-related memories? Just the love and support from everyone here and the fun we all have together hyping each other up. Plus Lore events. Especially Unscripted 2022 where Shez became a K-pop idol in dance offs while Byleth was in a apocalyptic future. The dichotomy was hilarious.

Present or past tense? Past tense is what I default to writing but my dyslexia means I can swap part way through sentence! Third person.

Normal size text, small text, no preference? Normal text as easier to read.

Got any potential muse delusions to share? If I could handle 2 muses I would love a Shez rerun

[kinfeelings]

Kitty-Cat Babblings.

Being all-the-cats is a definite ride.

I’ve nixed a lot of my vaguetypes because over time it became clearer they were just cameos and flickers, so now I’m back to just a handful. Eevee and vaporeon, my cluster of OCs, original species and AU canon characters, and yes, of course, all the Felidae. “Felidae” includes all earthly extinct/extant felines, as well as partial/mythical/fictional ones. When I say partial I mean like sphinxes and felitaurs (the feline version of centaurs), for two examples. A mythical example is the cait sidhe/cat sith from Celtic lore, and then some fictional examples would be meowth, liepard, or luxray from the Pokémon franchise.

I know there are people out there who hate their ‘type(s) for whatever reason, but I don’t hate any of mine, except for perhaps the OCs/AU canon character ones when the memories/noemata get really unpleasant. But when it comes to the felinity of me? I adore it. I can’t imagine not being feline. It’s such an ingrained part of my identity, it just took me years to unravel it from thinking it was merely a heart-type/kith to it actually being me, the one ‘type I have the most certainty of. I have felt close with cats from my earliest memories, though, being the grabby and loud child that I was, cats didn’t start liking me until I got older and wiser. (I don’t dislike my eevee/vaporeon vaguetype either, but it’s a bit lower on the scale of Yes, Absolutely, That’s Me, than Felidae are.)

Lions, servals, domestic cats, caracals, jaguars, Scottish wildcats, you name it, I feel kin with it.

[ultravioletqueen]

Thanks to @theloremaniac I discovered Anaq, the first daughter of Adam and Eve in Islam and the first witch in this religion, she caught my attention because of the description of her appearance: born with two heads and claws instead of normal nails, she was also the first person to die in Islam, being killed by a lion sent by God after having sex before marriage.

I imagined what it would be like to adapt it to a possible rewrite of Hazbin Hotel (since I plan to do redesigns very soon) and my original Instagram story (bloody reverie/eden) and I thought about making her the outcast daughter of the Eden family, she was horribly affected for the apple (eve ate it while she was pregnant without knowing it) causing her this strange appearance and a great affinity with dark magic.

In this version, Anaq had a romantic relationship with Arham, a young traveler who became very interested in magic and went to Anaq so she could teach him. However, they soon saw each other as more than friends. Arham had a great thirst for adventure and He wanted to explore the world with her, they both had different ideas about religion and God, neither of them believed much in the existence of God and that's why they didn't bother to follow the commandments.

This did not go unnoticed by God and, feeling extremely offended by Anaq's lack of faith, he decided to punish her by sending a giant lion that ended up eating her alive.

Arham, with a broken heart, decides to take his son Uj/og to his birthplace in Bashun, where he would be crowned king by its inhabitants, but his throne felt empty because he did not have Anaq by his side. However, he decided to raise his son in the best possible way until the day Arham died of cardiac attack when uj/og was 12 years old and he was left in the care of his maternal family who helped him in his royal duties when he was crowned king at the age of 15.

uj/og grew up as a hyperactive child who is usually very emotional and impulsive, but who has a great sense of justice and really wanted to be as good a king as his father and greatly admires his mother's figure even though he couldn't really know her.

uj/og dies being murdered by Moses when he is 19 years old and reaches heaven with his father.

I have two possible scenarios for anaq:

1) CANON:Anaq is in heaven since God recognizes that he was too hard on her and gives her the opportunity to reunite with her lover and son, with whom she is happily reunited. She keeps in touch with her entire family (yep, even Cain) and visits them regularly.

2) NO CANON/SWAP AU:Anaq is sentenced to hell not only for her beliefs but also for her practices of dark magic, she ends up fusing with Roo over time (before she was part of her in her second head as a Siamese twin), she could not reunite with her family and is very bitter about it, she is a very sad and lonely person who does not usually leave her domain.

Anaq in general has a rather discouraged personality, she is introverted and does not usually like the idea of ​​socializing with others unless it is strictly necessary, otherwise she prefers to stay in the shadows and not attract attention (which makes her hate her appearance, since it makes her a target for the gazes and prejudices of others).

Anaq was a figure of protection and understanding for her sibilings, since she did not want her sibilings to grow up being victims of the same prejudices that she had to endure, she took on the role of second mother in general and for this reason her brothers and sisters have her in high esteem and do not let anyone speak ill of her even though she is in hell in some lines.

In more general things, Anaq really likes to study about medicinal practices and would definitely be fascinated with modern medicine.

She also likes to sew a lot, she probably invented the first needle and thread and used to be the one who made clothes for the family. She also loves embroidery and has made beautiful embroideries that have taken her forever to finish but she is extremely satisfied with them (she probably has an tapestry of her lover and son).

(Español)

gracias a @theloremaniac descubri a anaq, la primera hija de adam y eva en el islam y la primera bruja en esta religion, ella llamo mi atencion por la descripción de su apariencia: nacida con dos cabezas y garras en vez de uñas normales, ella tambien fue la primera persona en morir en el islam siendo asesinada por un leon enviado por dios depsues de haber tenido sexo antes del matrimonio.

me imagine como seria adaptarla a un posible rewrite de hazbin hotel(ya que planeo hacer rediseños muy pronto)y mi historia original de instagram(bloody reverie/eden) y pense en hacerla la hija marginada de la familia del eden, ella fue afectada horriblemente por la manzana(eva la comio estando embarazada sin saberlo) causandole esta apariencia extraña y una gran afinidad con la magia oscura.

en esta versión anaq tuvo una relación sentimental con un arham, un joven viajero que se interesó mucho en la magia y fue con anaq para que ella le enseñase, sin embargo pronto se vieron como mas que amigos, arham tenia gran sed por la aventura y queria explorar el mundo junto a ella, ambos tenian ideas diferentes sobre la religion y dios, ninguno de los dos creia mucho en la existencia del mismo y por eso no se molestaban en seguir los mandamientos.

esto no paso desapercibido por dios y al sentirse extremadamente ofendido por la falta de fe de anaq decidio castigarla mandando un leon gigante que la termino comiendo viva.

arham con el corazon roto decide llevarse a su hijo uj/og a su lugar de nacimiento en bashun, donde seria coronaso rey por sus habitantes, pero su trono se sentia vacio al no tener a anaq a su lado, sin embargo decidió criar a su hijo de la mejor forma posible hasta el dia que arham fallecio por un paro cardiaco cuando uj/og tiene 12 años y este queda al cuidado de su familia materna que le ayudan en sus labores reales cuando es coronado rey a los 15 años.

uj/og crecio como un niño hiperactivo que suele ser muy emocional e impulsivo, pero que tiene un gran sentido de la justicia y realmente quiere ser tan buen rey como su padre y admira muchísimo a la figura de su madre pese a que no la pudo conocer de verdad.

uj/og muere siendo asesinado por moses cuando tiene 19 años y llega al cielo junto a su padre.

tengo dos posibles escenarios para anaq:

1)CANON:anaq esta en el cielo ya que dios reconoce que fue demasiado duro con ella y le da la oportunidad de reunirse con su amado e hijo, con quien se reune felizmente. ella mantiene contacto con toda su familia(sip, incluso cain) y los visita regularmente.

2) NO CANON/SWAP AU:anaq es sentenciada al infierno no solo por sus creencias sino tambien por sus practicas de magia oscura, ella se termina fusionando con roo con el tiempo(antes formaba parte de ella en su segunda cabeza como un gemelo siames), ella no pudo reunirse con su familia y es muy amargada al respecto, es una persona muy triste y solitaria que no suele salir de su dominio.

anaq en general tiene una personalidad bastante desanimada, ella es introvertida y no suele gustarle la idea de socializar con otros a no ser que sea estrictamente necesario, de lo contrario ella prefiere quedarse en las sombras y no llamar la atencion(lo cual hace que odie su apariencia, ya que la hace blanco de las miradas y prejuicios de otros).

anaq fue para sus hermanos una figura de protección y comprensión, ya que ella no queria que sus hermanos crecieran siendo victimas de los mismos prejuicios que ella tuvo que soportar, ella tomo un rol de segunda madre en general y por esto sus hermanos y hermanas la tienen en alta estima y no dejan que nadie hable mal de ella aun estando en el infierno en algunas lineas.

en cosas mas generales anaq le gusta mucho estudiar sobre practicas medicinales y definitivamente estaria fascinada con la medicina moderna.

a ella tambien le gusta mucho coser, probablemente ella invento la primera aguja e hilo y solia ser quien hacia la ropa para la familia. tambien ama el bordado y a hecho bordados hermosos que le han costado una eternidad en terminar pero que esta sumamente satisfecha con ellos(probablemente tenga un bordado de su amado e hijo).

[novaursa]

Legacy (the night is long)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Paring: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: Be aware of the unspecified time jumps and how canon events don't add up with the story's timeline.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: sun over the capital

- Next part: dark wings

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Jorah Mormont approached Daenerys' tent, with a letter in his hand. The parchment was sealed with an unfamiliar sigil, one that bore neither the lion of Lannister nor the dragon of House Targaryen. Daenerys looked up, curiosity flaring in her eyes as Jorah handed her the letter.

"This arrived, Your Grace," Jorah said quietly, his tone cautious. "It was smuggled into the camp by Varys's contacts. I thought you should have it at once."

Daenerys took the letter, turning it over in her hands, her fingers brushing across the wax seal. She broke the seal and unfolded the parchment carefully, her gaze settling on the words that began to reveal themselves. She read, her eyes widening as the truth of the letter began to sink in.

My dearest sister, the letter began, in a handwriting that was elegant yet steady. You do not know me, but I have long known of you. My name is Y/N, and though fate has kept us apart, we share the blood of the dragon.

Daenerys felt her breath hitch as she continued reading, taking in every word with reverence.

I write to you from Westeros, where I find myself bound in an unexpected alliance. I am now Lady Y/N Lannister, married to Lord Tywin, who sees in me both a strength of my own and a promise of loyalty to House Lannister. But know this—my heart remains true to our blood, our lineage. You are not alone, Daenerys. Though we are separated by sea and circumstance, you have a sister here who thinks of you, who carries your memory, even though we have yet to meet.

Daenerys’s hands trembled slightly as she lowered the letter, her mind racing, filled with emotions she couldn’t quite name. This was her sister—a sister she had never known, reaching out to her across the world. The realization felt both profound and bittersweet.

Noticing her expression, Jorah leaned forward, concern etched in his brow. "Your Grace," he asked gently, "what is it? Who wrote to you?"

Daenerys took a steadying breath, her gaze unfocused as she tried to process what she had read. "It’s… from my sister," she whispered, almost as if saying it aloud would make it more real. "A sister I’ve never met. Her name is Y/N, and she’s… married to Tywin Lannister."

Jorah’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, though he masked it quickly. "Tywin Lannister," he murmured, his tone both shocked and wary. "I had heard rumors of his new marriage, but I never expected it to be to a Targaryen."

Daenerys looked at him, her expression filled with a mixture of wonder and sadness. "She says she’s thought of me. That I am not alone." She paused, her voice softening. "Did you ever see her, Jorah? In the North, when she was a ward at Winterfell?"

Jorah thought for a moment, casting his mind back over the years. "Yes, Your Grace," he said quietly. "I saw her once, many years ago. I was a young man then, visiting Winterfell on some matter for my father, Lord Jeor. She would have been just a girl then, but she had a certain… presence."

Daenerys leaned forward, her eyes bright with interest. "Tell me about her."

Jorah smiled faintly, recalling the memory as if dusting off an old, cherished book. "She was quiet, but there was a strength in her that couldn’t be ignored. She carried herself with grace, even then—a grace I could see was not learned from the North. She had the look of a Targaryen, unmistakable silver hair and violet eyes, and yet there was something solemn about her. I remember thinking she seemed like she carried a great weight, even as a young girl."

He paused, his gaze distant as he remembered. "The Stark children seemed to adore her. Robb Stark, Jon Snow… they were just boys then, but she was close to them. And Arya—she followed her around like a shadow. Y/N took Jon under her wing, I remember. It was as if she had a purpose that even she couldn’t yet name."

Daenerys listened, her heart aching with each word. "So she was… loved," she murmured, almost to herself. "She wasn’t alone."

Jorah nodded, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "No, she wasn’t. She became a part of Winterfell. The North can be a harsh place, but it’s loyal to those who earn its trust. And she earned it."

Daenerys looked down at the letter again, a sense of warmth filling her despite the bittersweet nature of it. "I wonder what kind of life she has now… married to Tywin Lannister of all people."

Jorah’s expression darkened, his voice cautious. "Tywin Lannister is a calculating man, Your Grace. He sees people as assets, tools to be used for his legacy. I don’t doubt he sees her in the same way. But your sister must be strong—she survived Winterfell, and she made a place for herself there. She’ll find a way to endure in the Red Keep, too."

Daenerys nodded slowly, her fingers brushing the edge of the letter as though she could feel her sister’s presence through the words. "She says that her heart remains true to our blood," she murmured, her eyes fierce with newfound determination. "I may be in Essos, and she may be bound to the Lannisters, but we are Targaryens. We are still family."

Jorah’s gaze softened, admiration in his eyes. "A family reunited, perhaps. Someday."

Daenerys looked up at him, a spark of hope igniting in her heart. "Yes. Someday," she agreed softly. She folded the letter carefully, tucking it close to her heart. "Until then, I will remember her words—and the promise that we are not alone."

Wrapped in a plain, dark cloak that concealed your features, you made your way through the narrow, winding streets of King’s Landing, keeping your gaze low as Ser Barristan Selmy walked by your side, ever vigilant. The sky was cast in shades of twilight, the lingering golden glow of the sunset slipping away, giving way to the shadows of the evening.

You cast a glance at Barristan, who looked deeply displeased, his brow furrowed in a way you’d rarely seen. He’d been silent most of the journey, but as the brothel finally came into view, he couldn’t help himself.

“My lady,” he murmured, his tone respectful yet firm, “this… this place is beneath you. Surely, a prince could arrange to meet somewhere more dignified.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips, though it was tinged with a hint of irony. “Knowing Oberyn, I suspect he chose this location precisely for that reason, Ser Barristan,” you replied softly. “It amuses him, I imagine, to think of a Lannister bride stepping into a place like this.”

Barristan’s disapproving look didn’t waver, but he remained quiet as you pushed open the heavy door, stepping inside the dimly lit room. The air was thick with the scent of incense and perfumed oils, mingling with the low hum of laughter and whispers from the patrons scattered around. It was an ambiance that spoke of indulgence and secrecy, and yet, you felt a certain comfort in its anonymity.

In the center of the room, reclining on a plush chaise, was Oberyn Martell, dressed in his usual vibrant colors, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement as he spotted you. At his side, with a quiet, knowing smile, sat Ellaria Sand, her gaze warm yet calculating as she took you in.

“Well, well,” Oberyn drawled, his voice like silk as he looked you up and down, noting the plainness of your disguise with a smirk. “The new Lady Lannister gracing us with her presence, in such humble surroundings. I must say, Y/N, marriage has brought you to… interesting places.”

You smiled, pulling back your hood and allowing him to see your face fully. “And you’ve always had a taste for… unconventional meeting places, Oberyn. You haven’t changed.”

Ellaria laughed softly, her gaze resting on you with curiosity. “Tywin’s bride herself,” she mused, her tone smooth. “I must admit, I didn’t think I’d ever see a Targaryen in Lannister colors. How curious fate can be.”

You offered her a polite nod, though you couldn’t miss the slight bitterness beneath her words. “Lady Ellaria. I suspect fate has played its hand here more than once.”

Oberyn watched you, his eyes glinting with something unreadable as he poured himself a glass of wine. He gestured for you to join them, patting the seat beside him. “Come, sit with us. We have much to discuss, I think. So many bonds between our families, so many… tragedies.”

The words were spoken lightly, but they held a sharp edge that settled uneasily in your chest. You took a seat, Barristan standing protectively behind you, his presence a reassuring reminder of unwavering loyalty and honor.

Oberyn regarded you for a long moment, his smile fading as he tilted his head thoughtfully. “And so here you are, Lady Lannister, wife to the very man responsible for the destruction of both our families. Does that sit well with you?”

You met his gaze steadily, though the weight of his words pressed heavily on you. “Oberyn,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “you know as well as I do that we are often given choices… with very limited options.”

He leaned closer, his voice lowering, his tone soft but laced with bitterness. “I suppose you know that better than most. But tell me, does Tywin Lannister whisper anything to you in those quiet hours about the screams of Elia, of her children? Does he confess his sins to you as if they might be absolved?”

Your heart pounded, the familiar ache resurfacing with each word. You knew well the horrors he spoke of; they had haunted you ever since you first learned of your family’s brutal end. You lowered your gaze, struggling to maintain composure. “I have no need to hear it from him,” you whispered, your voice barely steady. “I remember all too well, Oberyn.”

Oberyn’s expression softened just slightly, though his eyes remained sharp. “And yet, here you are, tied to him. You, a Targaryen, bound to the man whose legacy is soaked in blood—our blood. Elia, Rhaegar, their children… they should be here, living, and yet their lives were ended so that your husband could secure his power.”

A shuddering breath escaped you, and you held up a hand, your voice trembling. “Please, Oberyn… I do not wish to hear more.”

For a moment, he studied you, his anger giving way to a flicker of understanding, though it did not diminish the fire in his gaze. “Very well,” he said, his voice softening. “I can see it pains you as it pains me. But make no mistake—I am here in King’s Landing for two things.”

You looked up at him, the question clear in your eyes. “And what would those be?”

“Vengeance,” he said, the word slipping from his lips with the weight of years behind it. “For Elia. For her children.” His gaze hardened, his voice carrying a quiet, lethal promise. “Justice, however long it takes, however I may have to find it.”

Your heart twisted as he spoke, a mixture of fear and empathy welling up inside you. “And the second reason?” you asked, almost dreading the answer.

Oberyn’s lips curled into a smile, though it lacked warmth. “Why, the royal wedding, of course,” he replied with feigned cheer. “A grand occasion, the whole realm gathered to watch the next king unite with his bride. The perfect stage for anyone with a purpose… and the perfect place to leave an impression.”

Ellaria, who had been watching silently, leaned forward, placing a comforting hand on Oberyn’s arm. “We have waited a long time, and now, we are here. The world will remember what was done to our family.”

You sat in silence, absorbing their words, understanding the unspoken intentions that lay beneath them. There was no mistaking Oberyn’s resolve, nor Ellaria’s quiet fury. You felt caught between two worlds—the blood of your family calling for vengeance, and the precarious ties that now bound you to House Lannister.

“Oberyn,” you said softly, meeting his gaze, “I… I do not ask for forgiveness, nor can I pretend that anything I do could ever make amends for what happened to your sister. But I hope that you know… I have never forgotten. I have never betrayed our blood.”

Oberyn’s expression softened, a shadow of compassion in his eyes. “I know,” he replied quietly. “I don’t blame you, Y/N. But I am not here to forgive, either.”

You nodded, a heavy silence settling over you both. The weight of the past hung thick in the air, filling the space between you, an invisible chasm that could never truly be crossed. Yet, even in that silence, there was an understanding, a recognition of shared loss and the scars it left behind.

Finally, Oberyn’s expression shifted, a flicker of his old charm resurfacing as he gave you a sardonic smile. “But tell me, Lady Lannister—how does it feel to bear that name? To share the bed of the man who holds our fates in his hands?”

You managed a faint, humorless smile, your voice soft but steady. “It feels… like survival, Oberyn. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less.”

He chuckled, though there was no real amusement in it. “Survival,” he echoed. “A fitting answer, I suppose. Just remember, Y/N… survival comes with a price.”

As he leaned back, pouring another glass of wine, Ellaria’s gaze softened as she watched you, her voice gentle. “If you ever need allies, Y/N… remember that we understand you, more than the lions ever could.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of her words settle deep within you. Here, in this darkened brothel, surrounded by the bitterness of shared pain and the fire of quiet vengeance, you felt a strange sense of kinship—a bond forged in blood, loss, and the relentless desire for justice.

And as you rose to leave, with Barristan by your side, you carried with you the weight of their words, their promise, and the unspoken knowledge that, though you wore the colors of a lion, the blood of the dragon and the Martell ties would never truly let you go.

In the quiet shadows of his private solar, Tywin sat at his desk, his fingers steepled as he listened to Littlefinger’s report, his expression as inscrutable as ever. Lord Baelish, standing just a few paces away, shifted his weight, his usual smooth smile in place, though his eyes were sharp, always watching, always calculating.

“The men you stationed around the brothel have remained vigilant, Lord Tywin,” Littlefinger reported, his tone measured. “No disturbances to speak of—at least, none beyond what’s customary in a place like that.” He allowed himself a wry smile, though Tywin’s cold gaze did little to encourage it.

Tywin’s gaze was fixed on a map stretched across his desk, though it was clear his thoughts lay elsewhere. “Good,” he replied curtly. “My wife’s safety is paramount. It is imperative that Prince Oberyn and his paramour understand that they are in King’s Landing at my discretion, not theirs.”

Littlefinger’s eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief. “Ah, Prince Oberyn. Quite the guest of honor, isn’t he?” He folded his hands neatly, his gaze never leaving Tywin’s. “Dorne is rarely so cooperative when it comes to Lannister matters. One has to wonder what they hope to accomplish by bringing him to the capital now.”

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Oberyn’s presence here is a reminder of the alliance Dorne holds with the crown,” he stated, his tone as sharp as a blade. “They may smile and offer pleasantries, but they haven’t forgotten what happened to Elia, nor will they. I suspect Oberyn is here not only to attend the royal wedding but to assess how far we can be pushed.”

Littlefinger tilted his head, a glimmer of intrigue in his gaze. “And what do you intend to do about it, my lord?”

Tywin looked up, his eyes cold and calculating. “For now, we extend them the courtesy due to their status. The Martells are careful, and they won’t risk open defiance… yet.” He allowed himself a pause, studying Baelish’s expression as he continued. “But make no mistake—Oberyn and his ilk must be reminded that this is my realm. The Red Keep is not a playground for Dornish revenge fantasies.”

Baelish nodded slowly, a small smile curving his lips. “The Dornish are known for their tempers, after all. And Oberyn is as infamous for his passions as he is for his fighting skills. One might say he’s an ideal instrument to incite… disorder, if left unchecked.”

Tywin’s gaze remained unyielding, his tone filled with quiet disdain. “Disorder is something I do not tolerate. Prince Oberyn will have to curb his impulses while he’s in my city, or he will be reminded of the consequences of forgetting one’s place.” He leaned back, his gaze sharpening. “You are to keep your eyes on him, Baelish. Any shift in his intentions, any move that hints at more than courtesy—report it to me directly.”

Littlefinger inclined his head, his expression unreadable. “Of course, my lord. Though one has to wonder… might it not serve House Lannister’s interests to… encourage Oberyn’s passions in a more controlled setting? A bit of a… release valve, if you will.”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “You mean to tempt him into some reckless act, a slip of temper that could justify an official response.”

Baelish allowed himself a slight shrug, his expression one of feigned innocence. “Not as crude as that, Lord Tywin, of course. But… Dorne is known for its pride. Oberyn is unlikely to let slights lie—he’ll strike if prodded.”

Tywin considered this, his fingers tapping lightly against the desk. “Oberyn Martell is not a fool,” he said slowly. “He knows we are watching him, and he knows the cost of defiance. But if he were… convinced to show his hand, to reveal just how far he’s willing to go—perhaps, yes, that would indeed serve a purpose.”

Littlefinger’s smile grew a fraction wider, his tone light and conspiratorial. “I may have just the contacts, my lord. A few whispers, a few… strategic pressures in the right quarters. Prince Oberyn may find himself slightly less at ease than he hoped.”

Tywin’s gaze held a glint of satisfaction, though he remained as stoic as ever. “Very well. Proceed. But ensure it’s done subtly. The last thing we need is for the Dornish to think they’ve been provoked outright.”

“Of course, my lord,” Littlefinger replied smoothly. “I would never think of disrupting such a… delicate balance.” He gave a slight bow, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. “And as for Lady Y/N’s protection, I assure you, the measures in place will continue. My men will see to it that her privacy and safety remain undisturbed.”

Tywin gave a short nod of approval, his gaze flickering to the map once more, though his mind seemed fixed on his growing plan. “Good. The fewer chances Oberyn has to weave himself into my wife’s affairs, the better.”

Littlefinger’s smirk deepened, though he kept his tone respectful. “It’s rare to see you so… invested, Lord Tywin.”

Tywin’s gaze darkened, a cold warning in his eyes. “My family is my legacy, Baelish. That is not something I gamble with. Remember that, as you work with those whispers of yours.”

Littlefinger inclined his head, his face the very picture of compliance. “Of course, my lord. I live to serve.”

With that, he slipped from the chamber, leaving Tywin to consider the intricate dance of alliances, enemies, and strategy that was unfolding with Oberyn Martell in King’s Landing.

Joffrey paced back and forth in the golden glow of the late afternoon, the flickering shadows playing across his features. The tension in his expression was unmistakable, his mouth pressed into a tight, dissatisfied line. Margaery watched him from her seat beside the large, open window, her calm demeanor masking the unease she felt as she observed the king’s agitation. She’d seen him like this before—when his pride had been bruised or when something had threatened his sense of power—and knew it was best to tread carefully.

“Joffrey,” she began gently, her voice warm and soothing, “perhaps you might tell me what’s on your mind. It pains me to see you so troubled.”

Joffrey stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing as he looked out the window, avoiding her gaze. “That… that child,” he hissed, venom lacing his words. “That Targaryen bastard Tywin has whelped on her. It has no place here, Margaery. And yet everyone’s acting as if it’s some great blessing to House Lannister!”

Margaery nodded, tilting her head thoughtfully, though her expression remained soft and supportive. “I understand,” she replied calmly. “A child with both Targaryen and Lannister blood would… naturally cause quite a stir. But remember, Joffrey, you are the king. No one can challenge that.”

Joffrey let out a sharp, derisive laugh, his hand gripping the back of a nearby chair so hard his knuckles turned white. “Do you think that matters to them? To Tywin? Or to… her?” He spat the last word with distaste. “They’ll all whisper, saying this child has a claim, saying that it has royal blood, that it deserves something… more.”

Margaery rose from her seat, crossing the room to place a gentle hand on his arm. “And yet, my love,” she said, her voice a soft murmur, “this child will be nothing more than an infant, while you are already crowned, already commanding the loyalty of lords and bannermen. Tywin Lannister knows where the power lies, Joffrey. He has sworn loyalty to you.”

Joffrey glanced down at her, his expression softening just slightly as her words seemed to calm him, though the tension didn’t fully leave his face. “You’re right,” he muttered, though his voice still carried a note of doubt. “But Tywin is ambitious. And if he has a child with Targaryen blood, what’s to stop him from making some… claim for it?”

Margaery kept her hand on his arm, her touch reassuring. “Tywin may be ambitious, yes, but he is also practical. He knows it’s unwise to risk a confrontation with you. And as your queen, I will stand by you, ensuring no one challenges your right to the throne.”

Joffrey’s expression softened further, his gaze finally meeting hers. “You always know what to say, Margaery. You make it sound so… simple.” He paused, his eyes flickering with something almost vulnerable. “But I don’t trust them. Not my grandfather, not the Targaryen whore he’s married, and certainly not the child.”

Margaery offered a faint smile, though inwardly, she made a mental note to discuss this development with her grandmother Olenna. “Then we shall be vigilant together, my king,” she said soothingly. “And if that child ever becomes a threat, we will deal with it… quietly.”

Joffrey seemed to take comfort in her words, a sly smile creeping onto his face. “Yes… quietly. That’s how it should be. I knew I could count on you, Margaery. You have a way of… understanding these things.”

Margaery’s smile remained warm, though her thoughts were elsewhere. She would need to speak with Olenna as soon as possible, to ensure they were prepared for any shift in the court’s dynamics brought about by this unexpected addition to the Lannister family.

“Of course, my king,” she replied, her voice steady. “I am here to support you, always.”

In the cold light of dawn, Stannis Baratheon sat alone in his tent, reading over the crumpled parchment that his spies had delivered to him just the night before. His brow was furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line, as he read the message again, the words seeming to smolder off the page with each reading.

Tywin Lannister’s Targaryen wife—the woman who should have been wiped out along with the rest of her kin—was with child. The blood of the dragon and the lion combined, an heir that, by the laws of inheritance, could lay a claim more legitimate than even Joffrey’s bastard lineage.

The tent’s entrance flap rustled, and Davos Seaworth stepped inside, his expression concerned as he took in the grim look on Stannis’s face.

“My lord,” Davos began, his voice low, respectful. “Is it true? The report… about Tywin’s wife?”

Stannis’s jaw tightened, his eyes cold and unyielding. “It’s true. Tywin’s Targaryen wife carries a child—a child that will carry both Targaryen and Lannister blood. There are some who might say that alone gives the whelp a stronger claim to the throne than anyone else.”

Davos frowned, concern deepening on his weathered face. “But… that’s impossible, my lord. The Targaryens were cast down. Your brother saw to that. The child has no true claim, no right to rule over you or anyone in the Seven Kingdoms.”

Stannis’s gaze turned icy, his voice laced with frustration. “Yet here we are, Davos. The whispers have already begun. And Tywin, with all his clever schemes, is bound to use this child to stir the minds of the lords, to make them doubt my own claim.”

Davos leaned forward, his voice earnest, pleading. “Then we should be cautious, my lord. Tywin Lannister has a way of twisting the truth, bending others to his will. If we react too rashly, we might play right into his hands.”

Stannis’s eyes burned with a fierce determination, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “Caution is weakness, Davos. I will not allow a child—a child of a tainted, dead bloodline that my brother tried to erase—to claim legitimacy over me. No child of the Mad King’s line will ever rule the Seven Kingdoms.”

There was a long, tense silence, and Davos could feel the chill in the air deepen as he realized the path Stannis’s mind was heading down. “What will you do, then?”

Stannis’s gaze shifted, growing colder, more resolute. “I will consult with Melisandre. She will have insight into this, into what this child means and how we can best… eliminate the threat.”

Davos’s heart sank, alarm flashing across his face. He took a step closer, his voice urgent. “My lord, please. Lady Melisandre’s methods are… not without consequence. Consulting her in matters of life and death—especially concerning an unborn child—may lead us down a dark path. One that may taint your honor.”

Stannis’s mouth tightened, his gaze hardening. “Honor does not win wars, Davos. And it does not secure thrones. If this child is born, it will be used as a symbol, a weapon against my rule. It will embolden Tywin’s allies, bolster support for a claim that should never exist. We cannot allow it.”

Davos held his gaze, desperation flickering in his eyes. “But, my lord, there is more to consider than just the claim. Killing an unborn child… it’s not justice, it’s vengeance. And vengeance will do nothing but erode the loyalty of those who follow you.”

Stannis looked away, jaw clenched, and he seemed to be struggling against something unseen. “I know the weight of my choices, Davos. But if we do nothing, we risk being overthrown before we even take King’s Landing. Tywin will not hesitate to use that child as a pawn, as a symbol of power that could rally the realm against us.”

Davos took a deep breath, his voice soft but firm. “I know you seek justice, my lord. And justice will come in time. But perhaps there is another way, one that does not require consulting with shadows or flames.”

Stannis’s face twisted, frustration and doubt warring within him. “I will speak to Melisandre,” he repeated, his voice like iron. “I will hear her counsel. Nothing more.”

Davos’s shoulders slumped slightly, but he did not give up. “Then at least allow me to be present, my lord. If nothing else, I can help temper her… enthusiasm.”

Stannis considered him, his gaze penetrating, and after a long moment, he gave a short nod. “Very well. But know this, Davos: my patience is running thin. I will not let a child born of treachery and deceit stand in the way of what I am owed.”

Davos felt the weight of Stannis’s resolve, and a chill ran through him, knowing how dangerous a path lay ahead. He could only hope that, in the end, there would be some way to save Stannis from the very shadows he sought to wield.