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novaursa · 3 months ago

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The Golden Court (the pyre)

- Summary: You were taken from the royal court by your father when you were a child. Now you return as a woman grown from exile. A woman that ignites fires in her wake.

- Pairing: Jason Lannister/targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Note: Adult themes will progress more and more as chapters go on. This fic is pure filth and I make no apologies for it. You have been warned.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: what may come

- Next part: voyage of life

- Tag(s): @idenyimimdenial @scarletdfox @princesstiti14

The procession wound through the hills, a river of crimson and gold, banners unfurling in the wind, the roar of hooves echoing through the valleys as House Lannister marched upon Lannisport in full splendor. The sight was nothing short of magnificent—a grand display of wealth, power, and legacy, meant to remind all who bore witness that the Westerlands belonged to the lions.

And yet, for all the golden armor gleaming beneath the sun, for all the proud banners rippling in the sea breeze, it was not the lions that commanded the eyes of the people.

It was the dragons.

The air above trembled with the sound of beating wings, a shadow stretching over the city as two great beasts soared through the sky.

Haelle, your dragon—black as midnight, streaked with veins of gold—cut through the air like a specter, her long wings casting the streets below in fleeting darkness. She was a beast of nightmares, fierce and untamed, her molten eyes gleaming like twin stars against the sun. And beside her, Caraxes—the Blood Wyrm—Daemon’s companion, his long serpentine form twisting through the sky with effortless grace. His cries, sharp and keening, sent flocks of birds scattering from the towers, the city’s very walls trembling in his wake.

The people gathered in the streets, lining the roads, pressing against the balconies, their faces a mixture of awe, fear, and sheer disbelief. It was one thing to speak of dragons, to tell stories of their power. It was another to see them.

Jason rode ahead, mounted upon a fine courser, his expression one of utter satisfaction as he basked in the spectacle. Clad in rich crimson, his hair gleamed beneath the sun, his cloak rippling in the wind as he surveyed the city that would soon bear witness to his marriage.

Tyland rode beside you, his posture as composed as ever, his green eyes flickering with calculation as he observed the reactions of the people. Unlike Jason, he did not indulge in the grandeur of it all—but he knew its purpose.

Daemon, of course, was unbothered. The Rogue Prince rode with his usual arrogance, clad in black and red, his Valyrian steel sword, Dark Sister, strapped to his hip, the silver strands of his hair whipping against the wind as he guided his horse forward with a casual ease that spoke of a man who had never feared the weight of his own legend.

You could hear the whispers threading through the streets as you passed—

“A dragonlord, riding with the lions.”

“She will be Lady of the Rock… a Targaryen ruling over the West.”

“The Rogue Prince himself—he has not been seen in years…”

Jason chuckled under his breath, tilting his head toward you as his smirk widened. “They speak of you like a phantom, little dragon.”

You arched a brow, shifting in the saddle. “That’s fitting. Their children will dream of me long after I am gone.”

Daemon huffed a quiet laugh, his dark violet eyes flickering toward you, his expression unreadable. “Your mother would have said the same.”

There it was again. The ghost between you both.

Tyland cut in smoothly, as he always did when he sensed a conversation turning toward old wounds. “We should be nearing our destination. Lord Alton will be waiting to greet us, along with the rest of the council.”

Jason sighed dramatically. “Yes, yes, I suppose it would be rude to keep my dear cousin waiting.” He flashed you a grin. “Shall we, my love? I do believe we have a city to conquer.”

You smirked, nudging your horse forward as the gates of Lannisport loomed ahead, the roar of the crowd rising to meet you.

The wedding had not yet begun.

But already—the realm would never forget it.

The procession arrived in Lannisport under the weight of history, a city that had witnessed countless grand spectacles, yet none quite like this. The streets, usually teeming with the usual bustle of trade and gossip, were now cloaked in silence, the air thick with anticipation as the lion banners were rolled up to reveal the imposing stone structures of the city gates and its wide streets.

Ahead, at the far end of the broad avenue leading to the grand plaza, stood the altar where the ceremony would take place—a towering stone structure, etched with ancient Valyrian runes and draped in crimson and gold, the colors of both Houses Targaryen and Lannister. The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the occasional flutter of flags and the distant calls of heralds announcing the arrival of the procession.

At the head of the plaza stood Lord Alton Lannister, dressed in his usual elegant finery, a cloak of deep red trailing behind him, his face set in the careful, composed expression of a man who had long been accustomed to the weight of power and expectation.

Jason’s voice rang out, deep and untroubled, as he waved toward his cousin from his mount. “Alton! It’s about time someone with some sense took charge around here.”

Alton’s green eyes glinted with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, though his smile was faint. He bowed slightly, acknowledging Jason’s words before speaking. “I am simply glad you’ve arrived, nephew. You’ve made quite the entrance.” His voice was rich and deep, his bearing one of dignified command.

Behind Alton, a row of Lannister bannermen stood at attention, their cloaks sweeping behind them like waves of fire, their swords gleaming in the sunlight. There was an air of solemnity to their posture, their hands resting lightly on their hilts, though their eyes shifted from one person to another—glancing at the dragon riders, at the Targaryen bloodline, and most of all, at you.

You sat tall on your mount, your eyes scanning the crowd, feeling the weight of their gazes upon you. Their whispers fluttered through the air like soft shadows, none of them daring to speak too loudly for fear of attracting the attention of Daemon or Jason. You could hear snippets of conversation again:

“The dragon-rider’s daughter—Lady of the Rock…”

“A Targaryen to rule over the Westerlands…”

“What will she do? What will he do?”

You held your chin high, your posture as regal as ever, your eyes catching Tyland’s, who had been riding just slightly behind you. His expression remained composed, though there was a faint flicker of something deeper in his gaze—something that mirrored your own awareness of the gravity of the moment.

When the procession came to a halt before the altar, the people parted, giving way to the gathering. There was a gentle rustle of movement as servants stepped forward, preparing the area with candles, incense, and ceremonial goblets, the scene now taking on the form of an ancient ritual, steeped in tradition. You could feel the weight of those ancient vows hanging in the air, thick with the centuries-old magic of the Valyrians, their bloodlines once as eternal as the dragons that flew above them.

Jason dismounted first, his movements lithe and confident, a characteristic smirk still dancing on his lips as he surveyed the scene. He extended a hand to you, helping you down from your mount. As you stepped onto the soft, grassy earth, the crowd’s murmur grew. The presence of two dragons, one of them perched high above, had ensured that no one would dare speak out of turn. But still, there was a weight to this moment, and the eyes of the Westerlands were upon you.

Tyland followed, dismounting smoothly, his posture as composed as ever. His hands briefly brushed against yours as he offered his assistance, and you both made your way toward the altar where the ceremony would begin. The ground beneath your boots felt solid, the stone of the altar cold and timeless, its surfaces worn down with the passage of years, centuries of bloodshed, sacrifice, and pledges.

Daemon arrived behind you both, his presence both imposing and relaxed. His eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, there was nothing but recognition and understanding between you, a bond forged through the years of his guidance and your shared blood. His cloak, embroidered with Valyrian sigils, swept around him as he walked toward the altar. His face was set, unreadable, his eyes steady as he approached. You could feel the air shift slightly with his presence, the sheer weight of his legacy, the weight of what had been left in his wake.

Alton stepped forward as the final preparations were made, his voice loud and clear, calling the assembly to attention. “Lords and ladies of the Westerlands, bannermen of House Lannister, and honored guests from near and far—” His voice resonated with power and authority, echoing over the plaza. “We have gathered here today to witness the union of two great houses—two bloodlines forged in fire and steel, one of dragons, one of lions.”

Jason flashed a grin toward the assembled guests, his gaze lingering on those most curious about the union. His voice, always playful, but heavy with meaning, rang out. “Let us see if the dragons will bend the lions to their will—or if the lions will show the dragons who rules the Westerlands.”

A low murmur rippled through the crowd as the ceremony began. The air thickened with anticipation as you moved into position beside Jason, Daemon, and Tyland. The priestess stepped forward, her robes a deep crimson, the fabric embroidered with a rich thread that shimmered under the afternoon sun. The wind carried the scent of burning incense and the faint salt of the nearby sea, weaving the moment into something almost otherworldly, suspended between past and future, between duty and desire.

She stood before the altar, ancient and worn, its surface carved with Valyrian runes, a relic of a world that had long since turned to ash. The weight of history loomed over the ceremony, a reminder that this was more than a mere wedding—this was a union meant to change the course of the realm itself.

Her voice, when she finally spoke, was low and commanding, thick with the power of words spoken in the old tongue of Valyria. “This is fire, from flame we are born.”

She lifted her hands, and the gathered witnesses, the lords and knights, the bannermen and nobles, fell silent. “You are blood, and to blood you shall return.”

Her dark eyes turned to you first, her gaze searching, as if to measure whether you truly understood the weight of the moment.

You did.

She lifted a dagger, its handle adorned with dragon-shaped engravings, and extended it toward you. “Who stands before us, sworn in fire, and bound to the blood of the lion?”

You did not hesitate. “I am she.”

Your voice was steady, the words settling into the space between the gathered lords and nobles, a declaration of intent, of power, of choice.

The priestess nodded, her hands steady as she turned to Jason and Tyland. “And who stands before us, sworn in gold, bound to the blood of dragons?”

Jason, ever bold, ever unafraid, smirked as he answered. “I am he.”

Tyland followed, his voice calm but unwavering. “And I as well.”

The priestess took a ceremonial blade, its edge honed so fine it gleamed like molten light, and held it out before you.

The old ways of Valyria had always demanded blood. This would be no different.

She placed the blade in your hand first, guiding you as you extended it toward Jason. He did not flinch as you pressed the tip against his palm, just enough to break the skin, to draw forth the crimson drop that welled at the surface.

He smirked even as the blood ran down his fingers, pooling into the chalice set upon the altar.

Tyland extended his own hand without hesitation, his expression composed, regal, unshaken.

You did the same, the blade sharp but precise, carving the barest of cuts against your palm.

The priestess took the chalice, now tinged red with the mingling of your blood, lifting it high as she spoke the words of the vow. “In love, and in sacrifice.”

She turned first to Jason. “Drink, and bind yourself to your wife in blood.”

Jason took the goblet from her hands, lifting it to his lips without hesitation, drinking deeply, the warm liquid staining his lips as he grinned down at you. “Already sweeter than wine.”

You rolled your eyes even as the priestess passed the goblet to Tyland.

Tyland drank next, his movements measured, controlled, as they always were. His green eyes flickered toward you as he lowered the chalice. “Now and forever.”

Finally, the goblet was placed in your hands. The blood of both lions, mixed with your own, thick and warm upon your tongue as you drank.

When you lowered the chalice, the priestess took it from you, setting it upon the altar.

The final step remained.

She took the blade once more, this time holding it between her palms. “And to blood, you are bound.”

You extended your hand toward Jason first.

He clasped it without hesitation, his grip warm, his thumb brushing over the line of dried blood that still lingered on your palm.

Then to Tyland, whose fingers wrapped around yours more gently, but no less securely.

The priestess bound your hands together with a silk ribbon the color of fire, tying it tightly, ensuring the knot would not loosen. She stepped back, raising her arms toward the sky. “From Valyria, from fire.”

A low murmur ran through the gathered crowd, the weight of the ceremony settling upon them like a storm’s first gust.

Daemon stood near the altar, watching silently, his arms folded, his eyes unreadable. But there was something close to satisfaction in his gaze.

Jason leaned in first, pressing a kiss against your lips, deep and indulgent, meant for all to see.

Tyland followed, his own kiss softer, but no less binding.

The priestess lowered her arms, her voice final. “It is done.”

The moment hung there, suspended, heavy with power, with fate, with all that had led to this. You turned toward the crowd, toward the banners rippling in the wind, toward the dragons that still circled overhead.

The wedding was complete. But the world would never be the same.

The light of the afternoon had begun to deepen, casting long shadows across the plaza as the ceremony drew to its close. The air still crackled with the weight of the vows spoken, the blood mingled, the ancient magic that had bound you, Jason, and Tyland in a union that no septon could break. The banners of House Lannister rippled in the sea breeze, and the low murmur of the crowd swelled with conversation as the wedding procession began preparing for its grand return to Casterly Rock.

And then—the Faith arrived.

It began with the sound of iron-shod hooves, slow and deliberate, against the cobbled stone of Lannisport’s grand avenue. The smallfolk, who had begun dispersing, turned back sharply, their whispers rising into a hush as a group of men, clad in the pale robes of the Faith, strode toward the gathering with purpose.

At their head, a High Septon of notable age, his robes edged with silver, his face etched with the hollow severity of a man who had long given up the joys of the mortal world, raised his hand, calling for silence. Behind him, armed men of the Faith Militant followed, their hands resting upon their weapons, their expressions blank with righteous judgment.

Daemon, who had been lingering near the altar, turned first, his eyes flickering with something dark, something dangerous. Jason, who had been in the midst of conversation with Lord Alton, let out a low sigh, his amusement barely concealed as he watched the septons approach. Tyland’s expression was, as always, calm and composed, though his green eyes sharpened with quiet calculation.

You simply watched. Waited. You had expected this. Of course, they would come. The Faith had never been known for subtlety in their opposition, nor had they ever been wise enough to know when to keep their voices hushed.

The High Septon halted before you, his eyes sweeping over the assembled lords, the remnants of the ceremony, and then landing on you—lingering with a gaze that might have been intended as piercing, but in the face of Valyrian blood, felt like little more than a dull blade against dragon-scale.

He took a breath. And then—he spoke. “This union is an abomination.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, low, uncertain.

Daemon, ever the first to meet opposition with wicked amusement, let out a low, almost mocking chuckle. “Oh? That’s bold of you, septon. Do tell.”

The High Septon did not waver, though he had to tilt his chin upward to meet Daemon’s gaze. “The gods do not sanction this. Nor will the Faith. Your so-called marriage is a mockery, a stain upon the eyes of the Seven, a blasphemy that—”

Daemon’s laughter cut through the square, rich and unbothered. “A stain upon the gods, is it? Tell me, dear Septon, which of your gods were there when my ancestors carved their empire into the world? Which of your gods stood against Aegon the Conqueror? Which of them burned against Balerion’s fire? I don’t recall the Seven being present when the first dragons ruled this land.”

The High Septon’s jaw tightened, though he held his ground. “We serve the true gods, not the false heathens of a dead empire. Your Valyria is gone. Its dragons are dust. Its ruins are cursed, left to rot beneath the weight of their own arrogance.”

Daemon’s grin sharpened.

“And yet—” he spread his hands wide, gesturing toward you, toward the Lannisters, toward the blood mingled in the chalice still upon the altar— “here we stand.”

The crowd stirred, the tension in the air shifting, uncertainty mixing with curiosity, with apprehension.

Jason, who had thus far let Daemon toy with the conversation, finally stepped forward, his green eyes glinting with something far more dangerous than amusement.

“You seem to have misunderstood something, good Septon,” Jason said smoothly, his voice rich with the same easy arrogance that had made Lannisters feared for centuries. “We did not seek your approval. Nor did we ever require it. This marriage does not need the Faith’s blessing, because it was never meant to be in service to your gods. It is in service to power. And power, as history has shown, is a god all its own.”

The High Septon’s face darkened, but before he could respond, Daemon spoke again, his tone quieter now, more menacing. “You came here with men. Armed men. That tells me something. It tells me you did not just come to scorn, to wag your wrinkled finger at us. It tells me you expected resistance.”

The Faith Militant behind the High Septon stiffened.

You watched them closely, noting how their grips on their swords were not idle, how their stances were too rigid for men who had only come to speak.

Daemon’s voice dropped lower. “Did you think, perhaps, that you could end this union before it could take root? Did you come here hoping to make a spectacle of us, to turn the people against us?” He tilted his head slightly. “Did you come here expecting to leave alive?”

A flicker of uncertainty crossed the High Septon’s face.

And then—a roar split the sky. The shadow fell upon them first, long and serpentine, dark against the golden light of the setting sun.

Caraxes.

His cry was sharp, keening, unnatural, a sound that had once echoed across battlefields drenched in blood. He circled low, his wings casting a shroud of ominous twilight over the assembled men of the Faith.

And then—a second shadow joined him.

Haelle.

Your dragon, black and gold, her eyes glowing like embers, her long, jagged wings spread wide as she hovered above the square, her presence unmistakable, undeniable.

The Faith Militant flinched, some taking involuntary steps backward, their hands tightening upon their weapons.

Daemon, who had yet to move from his place, simply smirked. “Well now.” His voice was mockingly casual, though his daek violet eyes gleamed with cold amusement. “It seems the gods have not yet decided in your favor.”

The High Septon’s face had paled slightly, but he held his ground.

You, however, took a single step forward, your gaze locked upon him, your voice calm, but edged with something deeper, something sharp as dragonsteel. “Tell me, Septon. When was the last time the gods sent fire from the sky?”

The silence that followed was thick, heavy, suffocating.

The crowd watched, breathless, waiting, wondering.

The Faith had come to denounce you. Now, they stood beneath the wings of dragons, the shadows of fire and death looming over them.

And the gods did not answer.

For a moment, there was only silence.

The Faith Militant stood rigid, their hands tightening around their weapons, but they did not move—not yet. The High Septon, pale and trembling beneath his pious fury, stared up at the two great beasts looming above him, their golden eyes gleaming in the dimming light, their black wings spread wide like omens of doom.

Then—his voice broke the hush.

“Cut them down! Now!” His words rang through the square like a hammer striking steel, an attempt to reclaim control, to command where there was nothing left to command. But his voice was drowned by the roar that followed.

Haelle moved first. A great, guttural snarl ripped through her throat, and before the High Septon could take a step back, before his men could react, the fire came.

A torrent of flame erupted from her jaws, thick and molten, swallowing him whole.

The air ignited with an unnatural brightness, a heat so intense that even the men standing nearest were forced to stagger back, shielding their faces, their cries lost beneath the roar of the inferno. The Septon’s wails filled the square, high and piercing, an unnatural sound that sent shudders down spines, that made the gathered lords and common folk alike recoil in horror.

His robes blackened in an instant, the silver embroidery melting against his burning flesh, his hands clawing helplessly at the air, as though begging the gods to spare him.

But, one again, the gods did not answer.

The Faith Militant faltered, their previous resolve wavering, uncertain.

Haelle lunged. With a single, bone-crushing snap of her jaws, she clamped down upon his torso, her blackened teeth sinking through flesh, bone, and boiling fat.

His screams were gurgled, wet, his body half-consumed, his arms flailing uselessly, his blood spilling thick and blackened down her throat.

But Haelle was not alone.

Caraxes screeched, a high-pitched, eerie cry, his long serpentine form snapping downward like a viper. His teeth found the Septon’s legs, talons gripping the charred remains of his robes, his long, red maw pulling as Haelle bit down once more.

And then—they tore him in two.

The sound of splitting flesh, the sharp crack of bones being sundered, echoed through the square, followed by a rain of blood, of viscera, of entrails spilling onto the charred stones.

What was left of the High Septon’s remains dangled from their jaws, torn and ruined, his once-holy flesh nothing but a feast for the beasts of Valyria.

Then—chaos erupted.

The crowd broke. Screams rose into the air, high-pitched, shrieking, some clawing at their faces as though they could not comprehend what they had just witnessed.

Some fell to their knees, their hands clasped over their heads, wailing prayers to the Seven, their voices breaking with panic, their minds failing them at the horror they had just seen.

Others fled, shoving through the gathering, pushing past fallen banners and overturned benches, trampling over one another in desperation.

The Faith Militant hesitated—some gasped in terror, some stumbled backward, their weapons held weakly in their hands, their eyes darting to their leader’s ruined, half-eaten corpse.

Daemon, who had not moved during the carnage, exhaled, slow and easy, before stepping forward. His voice was not loud, yet it carried through the chaos, a blade of amusement cutting through the hysteria. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

The Faith Militant did not answer.

Daemon tilted his head, his lips curving into something almost cruel. “You came here seeking justice, did you not? You came here to strike down blasphemy, to stop this so-called abomination?” He gestured lazily toward the dragons, toward the bloody remains staining the stone beneath them.

His dark violet eyes flickered, mocking, daring. “Go on, then. Stop them.”

The Faith Militant stood frozen. None stepped forward.

Daemon sighed, shaking his head, clicking his tongue. “Cowards, all of you. You wear your faith like armor, but when it is tested, when the fire comes, you crumble like sand beneath the tide.”

He took another step forward, closer now, his voice lowering, cutting. “The truth is, you were never going to stop this. You were never going to do anything. You thought you could stand here, spout your sermons, wave your swords, and what? That we would bow? That we would kneel before your little gods and beg for forgiveness?”

A chuckle, deep and dark, rumbled through him. “No. You came to die.”

A single step closer, and finally—the Faith Militant broke.

The first man turned and ran.

Then another.

And another.

The few who remained were trembling, their hands weak on their weapons, their prayers lost beneath the cries of the crowd.

Daemon’s smirk widened. He turned his head toward you, his expression one of utter satisfaction. “Shall we return to Casterly Rock, then?”

Jason, who had been watching the entire display like one would watch an amusing play at court, let out a low, entertained hum. “I must say, my prince, you certainly know how to deal with nuisances.”

Tyland, his expression carefully neutral, exhaled as he wiped a single drop of stray blood from his cuff. “The city will not forget this.”

You, however, simply looked to the sky, where Haelle’s golden eyes gleamed, and Caraxes’ long, snake-like body still twisted through the air.

No. The city would not forget.

Nor would the realm.

The gates of Casterly Rock loomed before you, the great lion sigils embossed on their surface catching the evening light, casting specters over the procession that rode through the winding roads. The sky had begun to shift to darker hues, the deep reds of the sunset bleeding into the violet of the coming night, but the glow of torches and lanterns lining the fortress walls made it clear—the Rock was awake, alive with anticipation, awaiting its newly wedded rulers.

Jason rode ahead, his cloak billowing behind him, his golden hair disheveled but glorious, his smirk unwavering since they had left Lannisport. If he had been pleased before, now he was thoroughly indulging himself. The spectacle had been a triumph, from the wedding itself to the fate of the High Septon, and Jason had never been one to let a victory pass uncelebrated.

Tyland, as always, was more composed, his expression cool, measured, but no less victorious. There was a flicker of amusement in his green eyes as he listened to Jason talk—boast, really—about the day’s events.

You sat between them, entirely unbothered, basking in the attention, the weight of what had been done, what was now fully solidified.

“Did you see their faces?” Jason grinned, turning slightly in his saddle to look at you, his green eyes alight with amusement. “The moment Haelle and Caraxes descended, the way they trembled? Gods, it was beautiful.”

Tyland exhaled, adjusting his riding gloves. “You are enjoying yourself far too much.”

Jason laughed, a full-bodied sound, rich and self-satisfied. “Why shouldn’t I? We have won. And more than that—” He turned his gaze back to you, smirking. “We have her.”

You tilted your chin up slightly, your expression unreadable. “You’ve always had me.”

Jason’s smirk widened. “Ah, but now it’s written in blood.”

The gates of Casterly Rock swung open before you, the great fortress swallowing you whole, its towering stone walls a symbol of power as much as they were a warning to any who dared challenge the lion’s rule.

But tonight, it was no ordinary castle.

Because Jason had left his mark.

The moment the procession stepped inside the Great Hall, you saw them.

Lions.

Not the sigils upon banners. Not the golden carvings on the throne.

Real, living lions.

Caged in massive iron enclosures, placed around the hall like sacred beasts, their amber eyes gleaming in the torchlight. They were beautiful and deadly, their bodies coiled with restrained power, their heavy paws pacing, their low growls vibrating through the very walls.

Jason grinned as he dismounted, stepping forward into the hall, his arms spread wide.“Welcome home, my love.”

Tyland sighed, running a hand over his face. “Tell me this is not permanent.”

Jason laughed, already removing his riding gloves, unbothered by his twin’s exasperation. “Why shouldn’t it be? What better way to celebrate the new Lady of the Rock than with the very beasts that represent our house?”

You stepped further into the hall, eyes flickering to the caged lions, listening to the low rumbling sounds they made, feeling the weight of their presence.

Tyland’s gaze lingered on you as well, his hands reaching for your waist as he leaned in slightly, his voice lower, calmer, but no less possessive. “You do not require caged animals to command the Rock. You are already far more than they ever could be.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Oh, come now, Tyland. Let me enjoy myself. We’ve given the dragons their display—” He glanced toward you, his smirk darkening. “It is only fair we honor the lions, too.”

The feast had already been prepared in their absence, the long tables lined with goblets of wine, platters of roasted meats, fruits dripping with honey, and sweet pastries glazed with spiced sugar. The banners of House Lannister hung heavy from the ceiling, the flickering candlelight making the golden thread shimmer against the crimson fabric.

Jason, ever the indulgent ruler, led you toward the high table with a swagger in his step, Tyland at your other side, more composed but no less present.

The gathered lords and knights rose as you entered, their eyes flickering between you, Jason, and Tyland, the weight of the day’s events still fresh in their minds.

Jason took his seat, gesturing for you to settle between him and his twin. “Drink, my lords! Eat well! For tonight, we celebrate the future of the Rock!”

Tyland, already reaching for his goblet, leaned slightly toward you, his voice lower, meant for you alone. “And let us see if Jason tires himself out before the night is over.”

You smirked, lifting your goblet to your lips. “Doubtful.”

Jason, overhearing just enough, grinned, turning toward you with a wicked gleam in his eye. “My love, I tire for nothing. And tonight—” He lifted his goblet, his smirk widening. “Tonight, we begin our reign.”

The hall erupted into cheers, the lions in their cages growling low and deep, the echoes of their roars blending with the laughter, the clinking of goblets, the sound of fire crackling in the great hearth. And as the night unfolded, as the feast began, as the wine poured endlessly and the music rose, you knew one thing.

The realm would never forget this night. Nor would they ever forget the rulers who had bound the lions and dragons together in blood.

The great hall of Casterly Rock was alive with music, fire, and laughter, the golden glow of a hundred candles flickering off the polished stone walls, casting long, shifting shadows across the feasting tables. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats dripping with fat, honeyed fruits glistening in their juices, and the spiced wine that flowed endlessly from goblets. The warmth of the hearth, the constant clinking of silverware and the murmur of conversation, filled the chamber with a sense of celebration that was almost overwhelming.

At the center of it all, seated upon the high dais, was you, Jason, and Tyland.

Jason, ever the indulgent lion, had long since abandoned the pretense of formality. His cloak had been cast over the back of his chair, his tunic loosened at the collar, the golden lion of his house gleaming against the crimson silk as he leaned lazily against you, his arm draped across your shoulders in a way that was more possession than affection. His goblet never emptied, his smirk never faded, and his fingers—wandering, teasing, unapologetic—reminded everyone in the room exactly whom you belonged to.

Tyland, as always, was more composed, but even he was not untouched by indulgence. His movements were controlled, his words measured, but there was something in the way he leaned just slightly toward you, his gloved fingers idly tracing along the stem of his goblet, his green eyes flickering between you and Jason with something more than amusement.

Not all at the table, however, were so at ease.

It was Alton who spoke first.

The older lion, ever the voice of pragmatism, leaned forward, his goblet set aside, his fingers steepled in thought as he surveyed the laughter, the revelry, and most of all—Jason’s absolute disregard for the weight of the events that had preceded this feast. “I suppose there’s no use in pretending otherwise, so let me say it plainly—” he began, his voice carrying just enough weight to pierce through the din of conversation. “The Faith will not let this go unanswered.”

Jason, who had been idly pressing a slow kiss against the hollow of your throat, hummed against your skin, utterly unbothered. “Then let them try.”

Alton exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It is not a matter of trying. It is a matter of the consequences, Jason. There were commonfolk in that square, people who had never seen a dragon, let alone watched one devour a living man before their very eyes. There were men who clawed at their faces in terror, women who fainted in the streets, children who—”

Jason laughed, a rich, indulgent sound, before cutting him off. “Children will believe whatever story is told to them. And the story they will hear is this—those who defy us burn. The Faith thought they could shame us, challenge us, turn the people against us. Instead, they were reduced to nothing but charred bones and screaming priests. And I, for one, found it quite beautiful.”

He grinned, lifting his goblet in mock salute. “To the Nightmare Queen and the Blood Wyrm.”

A few at the table hesitated, glancing between one another, but Jason’s presence was overwhelming, his laughter rich and infectious. A few reluctantly lifted their goblets, their voices joining the toast, but others simply looked away, their unease clear.

Tyland, who had been silent thus far, finally spoke—his voice smoother, quieter, but no less certain. “You are right about one thing, cousin,” he said, swirling the deep red wine in his goblet, watching how the candlelight caught in its surface. “The Faith will not forget this. But that does not mean they will act on it immediately. They are cowards, every last one of them. They plot, they whisper, they scheme—but they do not strike unless they believe they have already won.”

Alton turned his gaze toward him, studying his face. “You are surprisingly unbothered by all this, Tyland. I thought you, of all people, would have been the voice of restraint.”

Tyland took a measured sip of his wine, setting the goblet down carefully before speaking. “Restraint? What would you have had us do, Alton? Kneel? Beg forgiveness? Stand there and allow them to spit upon our marriage, upon our house, upon the very union that secures our power? No.” He tilted his head slightly, his green eyes sharp as a blade. “I am not Jason. I do not boast, nor do I revel in the display of it—but make no mistake. I would see the Faith crushed beneath our heel before I let them dictate our lives.”

Jason grinned, nudging you slightly. “See, my love? He may act the part of the dutiful lord, but my twin is just as much a beast as I am. He simply hides it better.”

Tyland sighed, shaking his head.

Alton, still unconvinced, glanced back toward you, as if expecting you to provide the balance between them.

But you simply smiled, slow and knowing. “It is done, Alton. The realm will weep and gnash their teeth, but they will move on. And if they do not? Well… dragons do not fear the cries of lesser creatures.”

Jason’s grip on you tightened slightly, his amusement deepening. “Gods, I do love you.”

He pulled you closer, the press of his lips against yours heavy, indulgent, a reminder to all at the table of exactly what was his.

Tyland, though he said nothing, simply watched, his fingers tracing idly against the back of your chair, his own silent claim just as undeniable.

Alton, finally relenting, exhaled through his nose, reaching for his goblet once more. “Then let us hope the gods remain silent.”

Jason laughed again, low and rich. “They will. Because they know better than to speak when dragons and lions rule.”

The feast continued, the music rising once more, the wine flowing freely. But beneath it all, beneath the indulgence and the spectacle, there was something else—

The weight of what had been done. And the shadows of what was to come.

The great hall of Casterly Rock continue to pulse with life and indulgence, the echoes of laughter and clinking goblets rising to the vaulted ceilings, where the golden lions of House Lannister loomed, watching over their reveling kin. The heavy scent of roasted meats, spiced wines, and burning candles filled the air, mingling with the low growls of the caged lions placed strategically throughout the hall, their massive bodies pacing behind iron bars.

Jason was in his element. He lounged at the high table, one arm draped around your waist, his fingers idly tracing along the curve of your hip through your silks, his goblet lifted in mock salutes and teasing toasts to the men who had come forth to swear their fealty to him—and to you.

The bannermen of House Lannister had arrived in full force, their voices rising in calls of support, their boasts heavy with the arrogance of men who had tied themselves to power.

One after the other, they came—Lords Marbrand, Reyne, Crakehall, Lefford, and the lesser lords of the Westerlands, all draped in Westerland colors, their words laced with admiration, with flattery, with veiled promises of loyalty.

Jason accepted each word with a smirk, a tilt of his goblet, an indulgent nod. Tyland, ever composed, gave silent approval, his eyes flickering with calculation, but little amusement.

And Daemon—

Daemon simply sat.

The Rogue Prince had not moved from his seat, nor had he participated in the revelry unfolding around him. He had not lifted his goblet in jest, nor had he offered a single word to the men who paraded themselves before the high table.

Instead, he ate his meal in absolute, unaffected silence, his eyes watching, assessing, but never joining. His fingers tore through roasted duck with idle precision, his goblet untouched beside his plate. The chaos of the feast unraveled around him, and yet, he remained utterly unmoved.

It was Jason, of course, who decided that the moment required something greater.

Something grander.

Something only he could devise.

“This has all been far too polite,” Jason murmured into his goblet, his eyes flashing with mischief. He set the cup down, leaning back in his chair, one hand still resting against your hip, fingers idly drumming against your skin.

Tyland, who had seen far too many of Jason’s indulgences, exhaled, closing his eyes briefly. “Jason.”

His twin ignored him.

Jason stood abruptly, his goblet lifted high, the room immediately silencing as he spoke. “Lords and ladies of the Westerlands! My dear friends!” His voice rang through the great hall, commanding attention as easily as a lion commanded the jungle. “You have come here tonight to drink, to feast, to swear your loyalty to this union—and I, for one, am overwhelmed by your generosity.”

A chorus of laughter and raised goblets followed, the men at the lower tables eager to follow Jason’s lead.

He grinned, but there was something sharper beneath the surface, something calculated.

His green eyes flickered to you. “But what is a feast without spectacle? Without proof that this marriage is not merely one of words—but one of dominance?”

The murmur of interest that rippled through the crowd was immediate.

Tyland, ever the rational one, stiffened.

Daemon, still seated, still eating, did not even look up.

You, however, merely smirked.

Jason’s grin widened. With a flick of his fingers, a command given with effortless arrogance, the hall shifted.

The great iron cages lining the walls rattled as the handlers stepped forward, their hands steady on the leashes of the great lions that had been placed as decoration for the feast.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as one of the cages was opened, and a fully-grown lion, golden and monstrous, stepped forward, its head low, its deep growl rumbling through the stone hall.

The air shifted.

The laughter softened.

Daemon, at last, lifted his gaze.

Tyland spoke first, his voice low, measured. “Jason.”

Jason merely smirked, stepping forward toward the beast, utterly unbothered.

The lion—massive, muscled, its golden mane gleaming under the torchlight—let out a low, rumbling snarl, its great paws padding against the polished stone as it surveyed the room, its tail flicking behind it.

Jason turned back toward you, his voice rich with amusement. “What do you think, my love? Should I tame it? Should I remind them all why we are lions?”

The room held its breath.

You tilted your head, surveying the beast before you. Then, slowly, you rose from your seat.

Jason’s smirk deepened.

Daemon, finally, spoke. “If it kills you, Jason, I am not dragging your corpse back to Lannisport.”

Jason laughed.

The lion, however, was not yet convinced.

It took a single step forward, its massive head lowering, its amber eyes locking onto Jason with something unreadable.

The handler gripped the chain tightly, but Jason lifted a hand. “Let it be.”

The handler hesitated—but obeyed.

Jason stepped forward—slow, deliberate, his every movement exuding the raw confidence of a man who had never known fear.

The lion’s ears flicked, its tail stilled, its deep growl turning into something more inquisitive.

Jason paused mere feet from the beast, his green eyes gleaming.

And then—he knelt.

A collective gasp rippled through the hall.

Even Tyland tensed.

Daemon merely chewed his food, unfazed.

Jason extended his hand, palm open, fingers loose.

The lion sniffed the air. And then—it moved. Slowly, carefully, it closed the distance between them, its massive head lowering, its mane brushing against Jason’s outstretched fingers.

The room was silent.

Then—Jason grinned.

And the lion sat.

A roar of approval erupted from the gathered lords, the table shaking with the force of their applause, their cheers, their awe.

Jason rose to his feet, turning back toward you, his smirk positively feral. “I believe we have made our point.”

Daemon, at last, exhaled. “You are all fools.”

And with that, he resumed eating.

The roar of the crowd still echoed through the Great Hall, the last remnants of Jason’s spectacle lingering in the air like the final notes of a song. The lion, now subdued, sat at Jason’s feet like a loyal hound, its great mane brushing against the polished stone as its deep rumbling breaths filled the space between the murmurs of the gathered lords and ladies.

Jason, ever the indulgent lion, had finally had his fill. Of theatrics. Of posturing. Of grandstanding. There was only one thing left to do.

He drained the last of his wine, setting the goblet down with a satisfying thud upon the long banquet table, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he surveyed the room. He took his time, allowing his gaze to drift from one bannerman to the next, watching the way they still sat enthralled, eager for the next indulgence, the next moment of spectacle.

But Jason had other plans.

He turned, his grip on your waist tightening, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice dropping into that low, knowing drawl. “I think we’ve indulged them enough, don’t you?”

Tyland, seated on your other side, lifted a brow, his own goblet still half-full, though he had long since grown tired of the excessive displays. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever get to the point, Jason.”

Jason laughed, slow and rich, entirely unbothered. Then, with a flourish that only he could make look effortless, he pushed himself to his feet, lifting his goblet one last time.

The hall fell silent, waiting.

“Lords of the Westerlands! I do believe we have done our due diligence. We have feasted, we have toasted, we have seen blood and fire both, and yet—” he smirked, turning his gaze toward you and Tyland, his green eyes glinting with something wicked. “It seems I have not yet had the chance to properly celebrate the true cause of this gathering.”

Laughter rippled through the lords, a few already anticipating his next words.

Jason’s smirk widened. He turned then, his gaze landing on Daemon, still seated, still unbothered, still picking at his meal as though the last hour had been nothing more than an amusing inconvenience.

Jason lifted his goblet in mock salute. “Dear father-in-law, I do believe we shall retire now. After all, there is more work to be done.”

Daemon did not look up.

Jason leaned forward slightly, his smirk deepening. “I imagine we’ll be making you a grandsire before long.”

The hall erupted into laughter, cheers, toasts thrown into the air like the clashing of swords. Some of the lords clapped their hands against the table, while others whistled, their amusement uninhibited, their wine-fueled indulgence making them all too eager to laugh at Jason’s antics.

Tyland sighed, shaking his head, but he did not disagree.

You, ever composed, simply smirked, unbothered, unsurprised.

Daemon, however—finally looked up.

Slowly, carefully, he set his knife down, his dark violet eyes flickering toward Jason, then to you, then to Tyland, then back to Jason again.

And then—he exhaled.

Not in amusement.

Not in frustration.

Not even in mild irritation.

Just—exhaled.

“Wonderful,” he murmured, reaching for his goblet with an expression of utter neutrality. “Another insufferable little lord with a Lannister grin. Exactly what the realm needs.”

Jason grinned.

Tyland, despite himself, let out a quiet breath of amusement.

Daemon, unfazed, sipped his wine.

The crowd still laughed, still toasted, still reveling in the moment.

Jason, satisfied, turned back toward you, his fingers sliding against your waist, his touch possessive, indulgent, certain. “Shall we, my love?”

Tyland, ever composed, rose from his seat next, offering you his hand.

You took it.

The room watched as the three of you turned, as Jason led you away, as Tyland followed, as the doors to the hall swung open before you, welcoming you into the night.

The feast would continue without you. But the real celebration had only just begun.

39 notes · View notes

misscammiedawn · 11 days ago

Text

Likely TMI and could be deleted later but it's designed to be abstract enough that it shouldn't mean anything to people who are not us... For those curious, the memory list mentioned in the previous post.

This list exists as a prompt to help us look up journal entries and not forget the past. We started writing it in late 2000s/early 2010s and in retrospect it may have been related to the whole dissociation thing. We used to post full versions of this on our 2010s era Tumblr but that seems too self-indulgent and invasive now. Plus we've burned too many bridges.

Index (added when going over the list in therapy - it's color coded for ages but the formating didn't transfer to Tumblr)

(<3) - Very happpy memory (CW<3) - Conflicting emotions (CW) - Bad memories (XCW) - Triggering Bad Memory (Violence, Alcohol, Abuse, Abandonment etc) (???) - Forgotten prompt

""Hey! You with the face!"" (<3)

""It’s your life, do what you want."" (CW)

""The girl I want to be""

"...oh Ted =/"

"17 hours in IMAX" (<3)

"18 year old in the kid’s ward"

"18th birthday (or Noodles ‘n Fight Club)"

"19th birthday (or Green hills and autumn skies)" (<3)

"22nd birthday (or hosting for the big party)"

"25 Superman. 1 phone booth"

"30th Birthday with no one to celebrate with"

"35mm disaster"

"35th Birthday - at the end of all things" (CW)

"50p cinema day"

"76 hours without sleep" (CW)

"9/11"

"A Chelsea fan"

"A long way to Tennessee"

"A new Sister"

"A silly boy who likes rockets" (<3)

"A Transition Tale - Doctor’s visit"

"A Transition Tale - Dresses in public"

"A Transition Tale - Electrolysis"

"A Transition Tale - Recap of Thoughts"

"A Webcomic is born"

"Abandoned experiments"

"Accidental Gay Bar date with Sleepy"

"Accidentally getting contest cheater fired"

"ACen Piano"

"ACen with Tsu"

"Adopting Kyon" (<3)

"Adopting Peko Pekoyama" (CW<3)

"Adopting Special Agent Dale Cooper" (<3)

"Adopting Wheatley" - (CW<3) Content warning, Animal Cruelty

"Alas, my Waterloo. The final morning."

"Alex Westley" (XCW)

"Almacon with friends"

"Almost cracked my head open (Scar story)" (XCW) - Important Event

"Alt Right Asshole Demands a Refund"

"Alton Towers"

"AMC Escape Room"

"AMC Trivia and Quiz sheets"

"Amiga CD32"

"AMV Hell at Youma"

"An argument over my name" (CW)

"An argument that ended everything" (XCW)

"Anniversary Date - Beauty & The Beast"

"Anniversary Date - Hamilton"

"Anniversary Date - The Last Ship"

"Anniversary Date - Time Machine Tour" (<3)

"Apology to the Fort O’Neighbors"

"Apple House Photoshoot"

"Archbishop’s Park" - Distorted Memory

"Art in Chicago (breathing song)"

"Art room security breach" (CW)

"Coworker caught by Caputo"

"Ass wands"

"Astrid and Lee"

"Atlanta-to-Nantglyn" (XCW)

"Auditing classes"

"Auntie Linda" (CW)

"Avenue Q"

"Awake at 6am (or playing by sound alone)" - Concerning Implications

"Azizul’s dirty tackle (Scar story)"

"Back to the Future Date"

"Back to the GR18"

"Backyard wedding"

"Badmitton"

"Bailing out PT Cruiser"

"Barbican Dental"

"Basement Subuteo"

"Battle Royale at Prince Charles Theatre"

"Beating the BioLizard"

"Bedlam Park"

"Beer and Bravado" (CW)

"Beguiled 2022 - Brainbound and Daja"

"Beguiled 2022 - I am holding your hand"

"Beguiled 2022 - Miss Dawn’s weakness"

"Beguiled 2022 - Murder Mystery"

"Beguiled 2022 - Puppet and Miss Dawn perv on their girlfriend"

"Beguiled 2022 - Soiree and hairplay"

"Beguiled 2022 - The Final Goodnight (red bead)"

"Beguiled 2022 - The Practice Room"

"Beguiled 2022 - Tigress and Puppet"

"Beguiled 2022 - WELCOME TO MADISON"

"Beguiled 2023 - Dual Inductions "Hello there"

"Beguiled 2023 - Music of the Night"

"Being told I kicked a classmate" (XCW)

"Bench pressing Cammie’s" (CW)

"BV, the upstairs neighbor"

"Betraying my brother" (CW)

"Bicycles and me"

"Black Panther and Broken Promises" (CW)

"Black September" (CW)

"Black smoke bonfire"

"Blanket Gang. Lupin and Eva"

"Bluebeard’s Bride" (CW<3)

"Bomb threat" (CW)

"Bond with a cosmonaut I’ll never meet" (XCW)

"Book of Mormon date"

"Bradwell"

"Brazillian Steakhouse Valentines" (<3)

"Breaking and Entering" (XCW)

"Breaking Bad Party"

"Breaking into The House"

"British Bulldog" (CW)

"Brought home by the police"

"Brunzwick Zone with Steve"

"Building Gundams"

"Bumped to the A grade in Maths"

"Bumped to the A grade in Science"

"Burning in the backyard"

"Buying a Nintendo Wii"

"Caht"

"Call Center Help Desk"

"Calvin College costume department"

"Calvin College magic show"

"Camber Sands"

"Camberwell"

"Camden and Dad’s worst moment" (XCW)

"Camden Dawn (our new name)"

"Camden Market"

"Camden sucks at tabletop (X.X eyes)

"Camden, Secure" (XCW)

"Cammie Pride Month"

"Cammie’s first cup of coffee" (CW)

"Camp Anti-Christmas"

"Canary Wharf" (CW)

"Can’t climb out from DHS"

"Caputo’s Brawl"

"Car Stories - Catbus" (XCW)

"Car Stories - Crispy"

"Car Stories - Libby" (XCW)

"Car Stories - Stormy" (XCW)

"C - The useless therapist"

"C and BV join the table" (CW)

"Character gifts for Christmas"

"Charlie the dog" (CW)

"Charmed 2020" (<3)

"Charmed 2021"

"Charmed 2022"

"Charmed 2023 - Miss Dawn’s Presence Class"

"Charmed 2023 - Vampire Ball"

"Charmed 2023 - Vendors Hall Blind Date"

"Chelsea vs Liverpool 4-2" (XCW)

"Chesington: World of Adventures"

"Chicago ComiCon - A fated reunion"

"Kistune and I"

"Christmas day car problems"

"City of Heroes"

"Final Therapist and the DID Diagnosis"

"Clay Pigeon Shooting"

"Climbing out of depression 2021. Books and assignments" (CW)

"CoD-to-Acen-to-CoD-and-back-again"

"Coffee Shops and Nelson"

"Coffee steak at Capital Grille"

"Collaring Ceremony"

"Coming out at work"

"Coming out to my father" (CW)

"Como Conservatory and Zoo"

"Coping Mechanisms" (XCW)

"Coraline Book Signing"

"Corn Maze at the end of all things"

"Cosplay Club Hibachi"

"Cosplay in London"

"Counterfeit notes and the FBI.

"Cousin wedding"

"Cousin’s house with scafolding" (XCW)

"Craig comes home (Roof/Listening Room/Aesthetic Room/Spa)"

"Critical hit to the weakspot" (XCW)

"Crying behind the door" (XCW)

"Cub Scouts"

"Curtis"

"D&D with the JJ"

"Dad’s apartment: Abandoned" (CW)

"Dad’s apartment: Cammie style" (CW)

"Dad’s apartment: Bro style" (CW)

"Dad’s episode" (XCW)

"Dad’s mental hospital room" (XCW)

"Dad’s post-surgery hospital room" (CW)

"Daja Visit 2022 - "Fuck It" garage kiss"

"Daja Visit 2022 - Cheese Curds and Sleepy’s Visit (2 Silver Crystals)"

"Daja Visit 2022 - Daja’s Lovely Assistant (Apple Crisp)"

"Daja Visit 2022 - Fond Farewells"

"Daja Visit 2022 - Photoshoot (Sword chin lift)"

"Daja Visit 2022 - The Wedding Day (Coyote)"

"Daja Wedding (Ambush Predator)"

"Daja’s SGDQ Suite (2024)"

"Brother’s big party"

"Brother’s Unhinged Death Threat Video"

"Cosplay Queen’s hospital room"

"Danny-Boy. HELLO!?!" (CW) - Early signs of Dissociation?

"Mum’s gay friend's apartment"

"Demoted to Holland"

"Denny’s Hobbit"

"Dick the Terepin"

"Dictionary to the back of the head" (XCW)

"DID Convention 2023 (Dr. Jamie and The Third Person)"

"DIE Tabletop Game"

"Disc Replay"

"Divorce" (XCW)

"Domestic hypnosis"

"Don’t rock the boat" (CW)

"DragonCon VIP Lounge"

"Drama Class"

"RT extended visit"

"RT visit 2 with added JAFAX"

"RT visit"

"Driving back from a Rush concert"

"Earthquake"

"Electrolysis Chapter 2 - Ms. July 23rd"

"Elephant & Castle cinema"

"Elephant and Castle"

"Endgame Party"

"English Eclipse"

"Euro 96" (XCW)

"Diana in America"

"Diana in London"

"Evalc’s RP"

"Everything is Terrible LIVE (The Great Satan)"

"Exit interviews at two theatres at once"

"Expelled from school" (XCW) - Monster Camden

"EZHack!"

"Fang The Sniper Plushie"

"Farewell to Holland (the failed Civil War party)"

"Farewell Wheatley - The Cries of CamDawn" (CW)

"Faust with Jude Law"

"Fe-" (???)

"Feburary 21st"

"FFIX and Vodka" (XCW)

"Final Thanksgiving with Former Family (Screen Violence)"

"Fire Alarm Madness" (CW)

"Firing regrets…" (CW)

"First day as an American"

"First formal attempt at hypnosis"

"First Impressions, BvS" (<3)

"First kiss" (<3)

"First time - Phantom"

"First time seeing Rush" (<3)

"Fishcoteque"

"FL Studio challenge"

"Fleetway comics"

"Fluffy got adopted"

"Flying on Christmas Eve"

"Forbidden Planet"

"Formula 1 ‘97 and Tomb Raider"

"Fort Alone"

"Fort Party and the Police"

"AMC as a winter shelter"

"Freezing down Haunted Hill"

"Frozen CO2 canisters and other theatre disasters"

"Frozen football in the rain" (CW)

"Fuck you, Acrio"

"Fuck Youmacon"

"Fucking Ultra Magnus!"

"Full Service Shop"

"Funnel Cloud"

"Game night with the family"

"GenCon the First"

"GenCon the Second - Ramen and Mangaka"

"GenCon the Third - Featuring Soviet Escape Room"

"GenCon the Third - LARP and Twin Peaks"

"GJ and the cracked skull" (XCW) - Important Therapy Memory - Monster Camden

"Get a job! (the typing test)" (CW)

"Get out of my hotel room you bloody soccer mom"

"Getting into Gundam SEED"

"Getting into Gundam Wing"

"Gift art at the end of all things"

"Gift art"

"Gift for ungrateful parent"

"Giordano’s Surprise"

"Giordano’s, imagiBROS era"

"Girls at a boy’s school"

"Giving up drinking" (XCW)

"Glastonbury"

"GM Academy - Kansas City"

"GM Convention Dallas (Feat. Civil War)"

"GM Convention Florida - Epcot"

"GM Convention Florida - Tranquility"

"GM Convention Florida - Universal"

"GM Convention Hollywood - Disney"

"GM Convention Hollywood - The longest day of my career"

"GM Convention Hollywood - The Studios"

"GM Convention New Orleans - Mardi Gras, Superdome and parades"

"GM Convention New Orleans - Photos and HG’s technicolor dream coat"

"GM Convention New Orleans - With Ex and the Court of Seven Sisters"

"GM Convention San Diego"

"GM Herland"

"GM Inferno"

"Gonzo Filmfest"

"Goodbye K and Step-mum" (XCW)

"GR Escape Room"

"Granddad’s memories of the HMS Indomnitable"

"Grant Morrison kills a con"

"Greenwich picnic"

"GTA Headache" - Dissociation Evidence

"Hanging on the edge of a cliff" (<3)

"Harley Hyenaholic"

"Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince"

"Harry Potter book launch"

"Haven Resort and the Tiger Club"

"Helicopter landings"

"Hellsing cosplay in London"

"Helping set Zelda to rest" (CW)

"Her jobs. (Hostess and tailor)"

"Hiding from the New Years Party" (<3)

"Hiding in the corn fields"

"High Potential Candidates at AMC"

"Hijacked in the cupboard" (XCW)

"HMS Belfast"

"Holy shit, Lunar 2?!?!"

"Horse/Shoe"

"Hot sauce in the eye"

"Howl’s Moving Castle"

"Hurricane Katrina"

"HYPE and Hypnyoga."

"Hypno Movie Night Discord"

"Hypnosis Study - Featuring Velvet"

"I am the answer!"

"ImagiCon - The lake house"

"ImagiCon 2 - The Movie Exchange"

"Imigration Blues (Shittiest Chicago visit)" (CW)

"Immersion roleplay/character stuff"

"Inception"

"Indoor Scavenger Hunt"

"Intimacy, RP and confusion" (CW)

"Iron Man with JJ"

"AMC J and the heartlessness of capitalism"

"Manager suddenly quits" (CW)

"MoFo and Scott Pilgrim in Schaumberg"

"Job hunt (Hackney flavor)"

"Job interview (America scam flavor)"

"Karate in America"

"Karate in England"

"Sleepy and the Orange Kit-Kat"

"Maryland Hospital"

"Sleepy’s Surgery"

"Keep the kettle boiling"

"K’s party"

"Kessleman Kiss"

"Kicked out." (XCW)

"Kids playing with the video camera"

"King Leer, the play I missed"

"Kitty collar" (<3)

"Kyon’s vet visit" (XCW)

"Last moments of Primary school (or 3 Lions)"

"Last moments of Secondary school (or D in IT)"

"Launchpad"

"Lavender Pond" (CW)

"Leaving a sanctuary for a shoebox" (CW)

"Leaving England"

"Leaving GR (Ferry Ride)"

"Leaving Photography Job"

"Leaving my first job" (CW)

"Leicester Square - From Values to Vue"

"Letting Kalamazoo die" (CW)

"LGBT Panel at Southdale Library"

"Life of Pi Press Screening" (CW)

"Tsu's mom invades"

"LJ’s video game collection"

"Lockdown 2 and the eternal boxes" (CW)

"Lodger and the ambulance" (XCW)

"London Expo friends and the least organized birthday party ever"

"LNS"

"Long day out with dad (Amiga CD32 version)" (CW<3)

"Lord of the Rings all-nighter"

"Losing my hobby in GR"

"Lower Marsh"

"Maggie May’s Breakfast"

"Market Trainer Adventures (CB15)

"Market Trainer Adventures (H8)"

"Market Trainer Adventures (L8)"

"Matrix Resurrections" (<3)

"Ma’am!" (<3)

"MCM Expo and Hellsing"

"MCM Expo and Shaolin Soccer"

"Meeting [first trans friend]"

"Meeting Ru"

"Mega Drive in the cupboard" (XCW)

"Meltdowns at Oikos (Sleepy's Patience)"

"Mental health screening" (XCW) - Important Therapy Information

"Mexican funeral"

"Milkshake by the M25" (CW<3) - Conflicted Feelings

"Photography Job boat trip"

"Photography Job book club"

"Photography Job canal trip (or "holy shit he can run!")" (<3)

"Photography Job Christmas Party"

"Photography Job girl’s night out" (<3)

"Photography Job Lunchbreak discussions"

"Missing Samsam in America"

"Moderator temper tantrum" - BPD Meltdown

"Modes and Facets"

"Hair play by Lucy the Slut" (<3)

"Mom & Dad in the same room at the same time" (CW<3)

"Monster Hearts"

"Monstering in the caves"

"morphE begins"

"morphE ends"

"morphE Executive Meeting" (<3)

"Moving to GR"

"Mrs. Cooper" (<3) - The moment Monster Camden died

"Milton & West" (CW)

"Wilson" (<3)

"MST3K All-Nighter"

"MST3K Live"

"Music Class"

"My best friend’s new home"

"My Lady"

"N64 and Ocarina of Time"

"Namco Station"

"Nan and Grandad’s"

"Nano in the fishbowl"

"NaNoWriMo"

"Nelson in GR"

"Nemmy Likes Cake (and Star Wars)"

"New Years EzChat"

"Newcastle Tabletop"

"Nickelodeon phone-in prizes"

"No privacy allowed" (XCW)

"North Peckham Estate" (CW)

"Not a Prefect" - BPD Meltdown

"Not Adopting Ocelot"

"Not Mexican funeral"

"Obama’s inaugiration" (<3)

"Oikos Abandoned (The Canada Trip)"

"Opening The Matrix" (<3)

"Oswego Hospital waiting room" (XCW)

"Out late with Primary friends" (XCW)

"Owen’s Endless GeneCon (Birthday game)" (<3)

"Packaging team night out" (<3)

"Paintballing (the time I did go)"

"Paintballing (the time I didn’t go)" (CW)

"Parallel parking job"

"Parker"

"Patball"

"Patton Oswalt and Sleepy’s Office"

"Paul and Painting"

"Paul and the Snooker Hall"

"Paul’s head stuck in a fence"

"Peckham concrete canal"

"Peckham friends"

"People Development Award 2018" (<3)

"Persona 3"

"Photoshoot with Cosplay club"

"Picking up Ex-wife, the final time" (XCW)

"Picking up Ex-wife, the first time" (XCW)

"Piercing my own chest (scar story)" (XCW)

"Pitch Perfect melted"

"Pittsburgh 2023 - Fountain"

"Pittsburgh 2023 - Magic Show"

"Pittsburgh 2023 - Pie and chips at Lookout Mountain"

"Planetarium"

"Playbill oragami, Former Family wedding event" (<3)

"Playground games with Lisa"

"Playing Pool with LittleKuriboh"

"Pokebadge"

"Pokemon Go! Michigan"

"Pokemon Go! Illinois"

"Post Office Elastic Band Basketball"

"Power outage and the comedy club"

"Powerwash Simulator *DING*"

"Preparing for the webcomic"

"Primary school phone booth" (CW)

"Primary School Reunion"

"Primary Sports Day" (CW)

"Promoted to Holland"

"Protecting the girls on staff (C-Bomb)"

"Proteges"

"Protest downtown"

"Protomen Live in Chicago (Feat: Cybertronic Spree)"

"Pubs in Peckham" (XCW)

"Pulled into the station at the station"

"Pulling pints"

"Punching Raymond Rutter" (XCW)

"Pushing our Lucky" (XCW) - Monster Camden

"Puzzle games and deep trance" (<3)

"Quarantine at Kzoo"

"Quarantine at work"

"Queen Mom Funeral"

"Quitting Drinking" (XCW)

"R. Pirate shirt" (<3)

"R30 and The Green Man"

"Recognized as Caputo’s on the train"

"Reprocessing with Ru"

"Return to England - "Auntie Lin"

"Return to England - "Karaoke and Former Best Friends"

"Return to England - "Saville Row"

"Return to England - "Stage plays and photography"

"Return to England - "WB Studios"

"Return to England - A 26 hour day"

"Return to England - A Garden in the sky"

"Return to England - A market that shares my name"

"Return to England - Ghosts and Museums"

"Return to England - So weird to be back here"

"Return to England - ‘just here to say goodbye’"

"Returning stolen items" (CW) - Important Event

"Reunion with JJ - Surrogates"

"Ribbon Road" (CW<3)

"Rin and her clique"

"Rock bottom" (XCW)

"Rogue One and Carmike" (CW)

"Rumors and Drag"

"Running from an 8 year old" (CW)

"Rush EuCon 2003" (<3)

"Rush in Birmingham"

"Rush in GR" (<3)

"Safe Words" (???)

"Samsam 2021"

"Saving Kzoo"

"Say my name… but not in anger" (XCW)

"School plays - (Feat. Puss In Boots, Waiting Room)" (CW)

"Secondary Sports Day"

"Selecting alcohol"

"Serialized Killer and the Mansion Photos"

"Shady deals in Southwark" (XCW)

"Shady travel agent" (CW)

"Shameful memory of belittling a death" (CW)

"Shattered Memories in the dark"

"Shingles (Scar story)"

"Shitty Slead"

"Shoe shopping (what could go wrong?)" (???)

"Shopping carts + Lightning"

"Sick and reading" (XCW)

"Sister comes calling" - Significant Event

"Six Flags Fright Night!"

"Skate Park"

"Skipping CDT"

"Skipping rocks near nan’s"

"Slacking off of Graphic Design"

"Slayers and Graduation"

"Sleeping under the bed" (<3)

"Sleeping under the table" (<3)

"Sleepyhead"

"Sneaking around Peckham"

"Snowing at Sears Tower" (<3)

"Sonic & Knuckles"

"Sonic Adventure 2"

"Southampton"

"Southwark Cathedral"

"Spain vacation (or second-hand memories)"

"Sparkling Cider on New Years Eve"

"Special Agent Dale Cooper’s Surgery"

"Speeding bus from Haven" (CW)

"Spider-Man Anniversary Blues" (CW)

"Spooky light reading"

"Stage Show at College"

"Stage Show in Wisconsin" (<3)

"Stamford Bridge tour"

"Stamford Bridge with JJ"

"Starved Rock"

"Stealing"

"S & K's Wedding (The cracks begin to show)" (CW)

"S as Eagle Scout"

"S's Basement Party"

"Sue-Chan"

"Suicidal thoughts and me. November 2020" (XCW)

"Summer Games Done Quick" (CW<3)

"Summer with mom"

"Superman in 3d!"

"Surgery Stories - Baba is heal"

"Surgery Stories - Cammie can’t say goodbye"

"Surgery Stories - Daja’s eyes and pokes"

"Surgery Stories - Dawn turns the tables (4am and the only Sunrise worth seeing)"

"Surgery Stories - Dawn’s fuck-up"

"Surpsisingly good Almacon"

"Suspended from school" (CW)

"Tailored Suit"

"Talk with dad’s psychologist" (CW)

"Tamale Day"

"Tamora Pierce, Surgical Recovery and Winding Circle Cottage"

"Teaching Arc"

"TeamFourStar"

"Tekno’s untimely demise" (CW)

"Tenacious D"

"Tentpole terrorism"

"Terg" (XCW)

"Lake Drive Photoshoot"

"Lake Drive"

"Rockchick"

"The 180 Emblem Challenge"

"The 365 Day Challenge"

"The adventure playground"

"The angriest Meijer’s visit"

"The annual Bristol ComiCon"

"The brakeless bike" (XCW)

"The brilliant night sky" (XCW)

"The Chess Board (movie)"

"The chess club"

"The CIU Club arcade room"

"The CIU Club Pantomime"

"The CIU Club" (CW)

"The Dark Hour Photoshoot"

"The Dark Knight Rises"

"The Dark Knight"

"The day I ate too much ice cream"

"The deadcon"

"The dying embers of marriage. Interactions after the end." (CW)

"The Easter Egg Hunt"

"The Eclipse" (<3)

"The final Bristol ComicCon"

"The final ComicsX"

"The Final GenCon - For The Queen! Maze Hotel." (CW<3)

"The Fine Art’s Festival GR"

"The first Bristol ComicCon"

"The Force Awakens"

"The freshest moment in wedding history" (<3)

"The Genius Game!" (<3)

"The GR18 Dream team"

"The greatest bonfire"

"The Hanged Man battle"

"The Haruhi Home Movie"

"The Jig Is Up (End of Former Family)"

"The Kitty Cup Valentine"

"The lady in #9"

"The lament at iHop"

"The last time I ever spoke to Cosplay Queen D"

"The Lawyer and the Ski Jacket"

"The Limelight Club"

"The LNS library"

"The Logan siblings"

"The looooong drive to-and-from Detroit"

"The magical swanking glove"

"The maid game"

"The Manager of Drive-by Shootings"

"The Oasis Lounge"

"The Penguin is my enemy"

"The photography closet"

"The Pocket Parrot Printing Press" (<3)

"The Primary school staff room"

"The Prism Concert"

"The Rose & Crown" (CW)

"The secret stairs"

"The Sega Bus"

"The shitty dollar cinema"

"The Skyfall Terrorist"

"The soul eating bed"

"The Sportsman" (XCW)

"The Star Wars Holiday work schedule"

"The summer without Ex-Wife"

"The Tails Doll"

"The Thunder concet" (XCW)

"The week the pandemic hit"

"The worst iHop visit ever"

"Theme Park/Hospital"

"Therapy Issues 2022 (Interactive Complexity)"

"Therapy Mk II: Sam"

"Tilly becomes Wynn"

"Time Crisis with dad" (CW<3)

"Tin Foil in the Meijer’s Deli"

"Mum's lesbian friend"

"TNMS Days - Rush Tributes"

"Tom versus Bro"

"Tony Hawks and Dragonball Z"

"Westley's child"

"Toro"

"Tour of Wales"

"Toy Story 3"

"Training Video (Feat. The Backbarbarian)"

"Training BV"

"Transformers the Movie"

"Travel to/from Daja Wedding (Hot Dog Church)"

"Ex at the Symphony Hall" (<3)

"Ex vs Chicken"

"Ex yells at Sue" (CW)

"Ex’s confession"

"Trip to see Aurora in Wisconsin (Photoshoot)"

"Ex controls a woman’s life"

"Truman Millenium"

"Trust Fall Book Launch"

"Tsu’s backyard"

"Tsu’s Pokemon Party"

"Turtle island Beads and the worst drive ever"

"Unreal Tournament"

"Vauxhal market"

"VE Day Celebrations feat: Mr. Motivator"

"Visiting Cosplay Queen D's grave"

"Visiting GR"

"Visual Images/Virtual Vinces"

"Vortex"

"Waiting at Midway. (Overheard conversations)"

"Waiting for Anime Hell"

"Waiting for Samsam"

"Wal-Mart at 3am"

"Walking home from CIU" (XCW)

"Walking out on her" (XCW)

"Watching Watchmen"

"Water Park with dad"

"Water Park with mom"

"Water Park with Ex"

"Wedding Reception or "Do not body slam a Snorlax""

"Welcome to Dad's Apartment"

"West Side Story"

"West Square"

"When you least expect it!" (XCW)

"Where the bad man lives (and a family Christmas)"

"Where the hell is the next Denny’s?!"

"Whirlyball"

"Who the fuck is Summer Glau?!"

"Whose Line Is It Anyway?"

"Wicked previews feat: Idina Menzel" (<3)

"Wisconsin Dells 2019"

"Wisconsin night sky (First time)"

"Work Experience"

"Working at 7.20pm on Christmas Eve"

"Working Christmas day"

"World Cup and Wings"

"WWE Smackdown LIVE"

"YOLO Mario Party"

"Youmacon hotel sharing (bonus: down 50 flights of stairs)"

"YoumaIdol"

"Yuiko-Sensei’s backyard party"

"YYZ in London" (<3)

#camden posting #personal

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