#Father (wings server)

[mr-1-2-3-4]

Things I made out of boredom- @tw1nkee28 @pampanope

Plus old art-

[clemmmmmmmmmmmmmm]

“There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin.”

Bat boys x reader:Giving birth unexpectedly!

This is a filler headcannon. I will post works next week hopefully.This is inspired by the way i had my son;In our car in a campsite😭😭.wrote this while my partner and son are asleep (Finally.)💛Enjoy!!

Bruce Wayne –

Gives birth in the Batcave during a lockdown

• Bruce has contingency plans for everything. Protocols. Staff. Medical equipment. Even a direct line to the best OB-GYN in Gotham, complete with a private hospital suite prepped and waiting.

• So when you go into labor two weeks early during a surprise cave lockdown triggered by a bio-threat alert, Bruce realizes just how little plans mean in the face of reality.

• “Of all the days to trip the emergency security seal…” he mutters while trying to override the system that locked down the Batcave.

• You’re pacing in the command center, gripping his arm mid-contraction, and Bruce—THE Batman—is rattled. Not visibly. But his jaw is tighter than steel, and his voice keeps lowering into that clipped, deadly tone.

• “The ventilation systems are sealed. Medical wing is sterile. We’ll stay here.”

• He clears the armory’s examination table, then covers it with sanitized cloth from the medkit. Everything becomes clinical—measured.

• But then you cry out in pain and fear, and that cold steel in his voice breaks just slightly. “I’m here. You’re safe. I promise you—you’re safe.”

• He’s no doctor, but his hands are steady. He follows the steps like a soldier disarming a bomb, all while keeping your eyes locked with his.

• When the baby finally comes, Bruce catches them with reverence and holds them for a moment before laying them on your chest. “Hello,” he whispers, as if stunned. “You’re early. Just like your father.”

• Once the lockdown ends, Alfred is the first to arrive. He says nothing when he sees the scene—just places a blanket over your shoulders and smiles at Bruce. “Master Wayne, it appears your most impressive legacy has just begun.”

⸻

Jason Todd –

Gives birth in a remote mountain cabin during a snowstorm

• You and Jason were supposed to be taking a quiet getaway in the mountains—no crime, no city noise, just peace.

• But a snowstorm traps you both in the cabin, and you go into labor with no service, no landline, and no neighbors for miles.

• Jason tries to stay calm, but his hands keep flexing like he wants to punch the storm into submission. “You’d think after all the crap I’ve survived, I’d get one weekend off,” he growls while boiling water on the stove and digging out the first aid kit.

• The fireplace crackles as he builds a makeshift birthing space with every warm blanket he can find. He holds you through the worst of the contractions, whispering calming reassurances that are so unlike the man most people know.

• “You’re not alone. Not for a second. I’ve got you, and I’m not letting go.”

• You scream through it. Cry. Curse. And Jason stays right there, steady and strong, letting you dig your nails into him without complaint.

• When the baby comes, he doesn’t even realize he’s crying until you reach up and brush his cheek.

• “They’re perfect,” you whisper.

• Jason looks down at the tiny, red-faced bundle and chuckles—half disbelief, half raw emotion. “You know… I’ve cheated death, escaped hell….but this is the scariest, most incredible thing I’ve ever done.”

• The storm finally ends the next morning. Jason steps out onto the porch with the baby swaddled to his chest, looking out over the snowy mountains and whispering, “No better place to start over.”

⸻

Tim Drake –

Gives birth in the WayneTech server room during a tech emergency

• Tim was showing you around the newly renovated WayneTech R&D floor when the unthinkable happens: a massive tech breach hits the servers, and your water breaks at the same time.

• Alarms are going off. The elevators are frozen. And you’re gripping a rack of prototype tech while Tim stares at you in utter disbelief.

• “I—uh—okay. Okay. Baby. Yes. Not now, but yes.”

• He immediately drops into triage mode. He reroutes power, uses an emergency system override to lock down the room for privacy, and hacks a medbot to assist.

• You’re lying on a pile of foam floor tiles, breathing through a contraction while surrounded by glowing server lights and the hum of computers.

• “So…this isn’t exactly the sterile birth plan,” you groan.

• “Statistically speaking, no,” he deadpans, then flashes a smile. “But the lighting’s dramatic.”

• He talks you through each contraction, quoting snippets from baby books and software manuals alike, as if he’s compiling his own parenthood operating system in real-time.

• “You’re doing amazing. I don’t know how you’re handling this with only 20% battery and no Wi-Fi.”

• You scream again. “Timothy!”

• “Right, shutting up.”

• When the baby finally arrives, he goes silent. Truly silent. No jokes. Just wide-eyed, overwhelmed wonder.

• “They’re… ours,” he whispers, staring down at this impossibly tiny human like they’re a miracle.

He wraps you both in his jacket and sits on the server room floor with the baby in his arms.

Dick Grayson –

Gives birth in a subway car

• Dick had planned everything. He mapped out the fastest hospital routes, kept emergency bags packed, and even memorized breathing techniques like he was preparing for an Olympic sport.

• But fate has a flair for drama, and on a completely normal afternoon ride through the Blüdhaven subway, your water breaks in the middle of a crowded train.

• At first, you thought it was just a Braxton-Hicks contraction. Dick was even joking about the train delays. Then you grabbed his arm and said, “Dick… I think it’s happening.”

• All the blood drains from his face. “Happening like… happening happening?”

• He immediately takes charge with a surprising level of calm—because behind the charming, goofy exterior, Dick Grayson is a born leader.

• “Alright everyone, I’m going to need some space. My partner is about to give birth. Please—back up and someone call emergency services.”

• Someone tries to film, and Dick glares. “Unless you want a lawsuit and a shattered phone, put it down.” The phone disappears instantly.

• He helps you lie down on a bench in the mostly-cleared car, cushions your head with his jacket, and holds your hand like a lifeline. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

• Between contractions, you keep asking if the train is moving. It isn’t. Power outage. Of course.

• “You had to propose to me on a rooftop, and now our baby’s coming in a subway,” you groan.

• “What can I say? We’re just a very public transit family.”

• You scream at him to stop making jokes. He doesn’t. It’s the only thing keeping him sane too.

• When the baby is finally born, the train lights flicker back on—almost poetic. Dick holds them like the most precious thing he’s ever touched.

• “Hey, little one. Welcome to Blüdhaven Underground.”

• When help finally arrives, you’re both surrounded by a circle of subway strangers who are all a little teary-eyed.

• Dick doesn’t let go of either of you for hours. “I’ve done a lot of things in tights and under pressure… but nothing as incredible as this.”

⸻

Damian Wayne aged!up

Gives birth in an art gallery during his solo exhibition

• Damian, now 26, has traded the Robin mantle for a quieter life—he’s a respected artist known for surrealist pieces that blend traditional Middle Eastern motifs with Gotham’s harsh modernity.

• You’re 8 and 1/2 months pregnant when he unveils his latest collection in a sleek, intimate art gallery downtown. The night is supposed to be a celebration of his evolution as a person and creator.

• But the gallery is warm, and crowded, and you’ve been on your feet all night admiring his pieces with other guests. That’s when you feel the sharp, unmistakable pain of labor.

• “Damian,” you whisper, grabbing his hand. He thinks you’re just tired until you add, “It’s happening. Now.”

• His whole face changes. Not panic—just immediate, tactical focus. “We need to leave. Now.”

• But the contractions are fast and furious. You’re not making it to the hospital. A horrified gallery intern runs to grab supplies, while Damian helps you to the quietest room—a stark, white-walled exhibit space filled with his paintings.

• Ironically, the piece behind you is called Rebirth.

• Damian sheds his jacket and lays it beneath you. He calls Talia first—yes, his mother. Say what you will, she knows how to keep her cool in chaos.

• “She’ll be fine,” Talia says over the phone. “Trust her. Trust yourself.”

• He gently presses his forehead to yours between contractions, speaking to you in soft Arabic—his most vulnerable, instinctual language. “You are strength. You are life.”

• He coaches you through the birth with focused determination and awe. When the baby arrives, it’s quiet for a moment… then a cry. He exhales shakily.

• The first thing he does is lay the baby on your chest, whispering reverently, “My finest creation.”

• Someone tries to enter the room, and Damian growls, “You will not disturb them.” The door shuts. Fast.

• Later, he paints a piece inspired by that night—an abstract image of you and the baby, surrounded by the negative space of a blank canvas. He titles it Origin.

• “I thought my art was complete,” he says quietly, holding your hand. “But nothing I ever make will compare to the life we just brought into this world.”

[st4rpiece]

⋆˚One Piece Masterlist˚⋆

──────୨ৎ──────

smau’s

[luffy, zoro, usopp, sanji, ace, law, kid, and crocodile]

↳ getting someone’s number in front of them (w/o law)

↳ after they get a haircut

↳ jealous of your boy bestie

↳ wearing someone else's jacket

↳ getting you pad with wings

↳ who that in the back?

microfics

↳ sleeping separately after an argument pt. 1 (straw hats)

↳ sleeping separately after an argument pt. 2 (cross guild)

↳ nipple piercing pt. 1 (monster trio)

↳ dealing with a rude server (luffy, zoro, law, and crocodile)

↳ needing space after an argument (straw hats)

↳ needing space after an argument pt.2 (straw hats)

↳ tall girl epidemic (luffy, zoro, usopp, and kidd)

individuals

↳ secret attraction - eustass captain kid

↳ getting off to your nudes - roronoa zoro

request/others

↳ father figure - sir. crocodile

↳ "they're cute" (multi)

↳ comfort for migraines (straw hats)

──────୨ৎ──────

[colorlessjay]

I feel dumb asking but—is your S16 Cas still an angel or no?

Yes and no? I have reasons for both

Castiel being an angel still would make sense especially given Jack resurrecting him, and Cas helping rebuild heaven as an open world server. I always HCed that Jack made Castiel into a somewhat of a new generation Archangel under his design. Plus, Cas deserves his powers back after everything he's gone through, he probably still hates peeing

On the other hand, the idea that Cas chooses to relinquish his grace so that he can grow old with Dean is also something I thought of. Through the series I liked seeing Cas grow old and evolve, I would think he would like to have the full human experience with Dean

SO for my AU, I thought "I why not both?" so here's the story:

After Jack brings Cas back from the empty and asks for his guidance for heaven, Jack notices Castiel's longing as he stared down into earth, watching the Winchesters. Castiel's confession of love has made him hesitant to go down and see his friends again. He feels awkward and guilty and generally just hopes to wait until the Winchesters grow old to see all the work him and Jack have done

Jack, however, refuses to let his father wait another eternity before he gets his happy ending too. With heaven basically on autopilot, he thinks him and Cas are deserving of a break to enjoy humanity as it is

So, he basically shoots Castiel back down to earth the same place him and Dean first met, the warded barn. Where Dean was currently waiting, having heard Jack's prayer to go to that location for something important.

Castial comes in but there's no flashing lights, just a faint heavenly glow that lets Cas know he has enough grace to use his wings and fly back to heaven whenever he wishes. But he's not a full angel anymore. He can grow old, he can get tired and hungry, and he can feel his heart beating louder and louder as Dean rushes at him from across the barn, and pulls him into a bone crushing hug

And that little bit of grace is enough for him to still see Dean's soul, the same one he fell in love with

----

but that's my version of events. Honestly people can make their own interpretations!

I'm interested in what people think!

[atlasofsalt]

Two words: bird heist

Docm77 was a man of many wonders. He was a brilliant inventor, an intimidating foe, and a wonderful father. At least he thought he was a wonderful father up until now- Doccy is missing.

The man slammed shut another chest after finding no evidence of his sweet daughter having been there. Every single room he scanned through, every border of his base checked- and still no sign of her anywhere. At this point he began to panic as he gripped his communicator tightly in his hands. His fingers frantically typing out his words to the server's main chat.

Docm77: Has anyone seen Doccy? I cannot locate her!

Bdoubleo100: Im checking my base now!

TangoTek: Where did you see her last?

ZombieCleo: how the hell did you lose your own daughter??

His panic grew as more messages flooded in with no sights of his sweet baby. Xisuma was off-world of course so, Joe and Tango tried their best to sort through the world code in hopes of tracking her down. Everyone was searching. Everyone but a certain pesky bird.

From the safety of his base, Grian giggled while watching the chaos. The powerful and ever so feared Docm77 was losing his mind and Grian was enjoying it thoroughly. As the whole server searched, it wasn't until the sun was setting that they noticed three key details.

Most of the server had no doors.

Most of the server had excessive amounts of chickens running around.

And almost everyone was missing their diamonds.

“Well my new partner in crime, it's been a blast!” The avian stood and stretched his wings while the small toddler played with more of the shiny blue stones. “I’m afraid I must be off now. Next time don’t wander too far from your dad okay?” He ruffled her hair before shooting off into the sky. He smiled brightly at the mess of everything and the mess of everyone below him. 

Just moments after he left, Mumbo charged into the room and groaned. There sat little Doccy with doors, chickens, and diamonds surrounding her. He rubbed his face and tried to think of the best way to inform their unhinged redstoner that his daughter is safe- and to not kill the bird man.

[banmitbandit]

Pots 'N' Picks Week 2024: Day 7: Breakfast/Lunch/Dinner/Snacks/Dessert/Family/Goodbye

[Dungeon Meshi spoilers (with a big amount of canon divergence) and a long, long caption beneath the Keep Reading]

November 20th, 1484 Dear Senshi, It's been a little over eighty two years since you've been gone. In that time, Merrywinn, the newborn baby you held in your arms days before you passed, became a great-great-grandmother, and her funeral last week was as rancorous as every other half-foot funeral we attended. Soon, it will be my one thousandth birthday, and I can only hope that, like you and Marcille, that's when this curse will finally be lifted, and I can see you again. If that's true, then that means I'm the beginning of an end. Instead of twenty one years, Laios will only have to wait three until he dies after me, and Falin will only have to wait three after that. In twelve years from now, Izutsumi will pass on too, and the six of us will get to share a meal together once again. I've missed your cooking, sure, but most importantly, I've missed you. Do you remember when we first shared that bottle of wine in my new house in Kahka Brud, over nine hundred years ago, before we had the slightest idea that something was wrong? I told you that I didn't want to make you feel the way I felt when Fayfinn left me. You said you didn't care, that it was worth whatever small amount of time you had me. Obviously, it turned out that fate had different plans for us, that the Winged Lion had cursed Marcille too, that we'd each live as long as she would. It's been hard, but since then, you've been there for me every step of the way. When Fayfinn passed, when my girls passed, when their children passed, and theirs too. You've been there for everything, and I'm thankful for it, from the bottom of my heart. I knew I wouldn't be prepared to lose you, and I wasn't. But no matter how much I hurt, Izutsumi was worse, even if she'd never admit it, and I had to be strong for her, too. She's strong and independent, just like she's always been, since the day we met her, but you were the closest thing to a father she ever had. She loved you, Senshi. She said so herself at your funeral. I just hope she doesn't miss me enough to cry at mine. I don't care what dwarves or tallmen or elves think, you and I both know funerals are supposed to be celebrations. Fun is in the name, isn't it? I haven't been okay in a long time, but these days, I feel somewhat peaceful. I have lived my life to the fullest, like any good half-foot should. My birthday gets nearer and nearer with each passing day. Tomorrow, Lochlee, Merrywinn's great-grandson, is helping me collect my things so that I can return to Merini for Laios and Falin's birthday in a few days, and I plan to stay there at the castle until my time is up. I've packed the cheesecake recipe you perfected, and I'm going to sneak it to the cooks whilst Laios isn't looking. I'm sure he'll end up eating yours and Marcille's portions too, but I know you won't mind. After that, it's Marcille's birthday. Then Izutsumi's. Then mine. I'm looking forward to it; like funerals, birthdays are for celebrating. Even elves know that. I can't wait to see you again, Senshi. Yours, -Chilchuck Tims

An AU I proposed back in the Chilshi Nation server a while ago seemed to be a good way to break my heart when rounding off Chilshi week. A lot of people bring up the tragedy of Chilchuck and Senshi's lifespans being so different, and it makes me wonder what it would be like if Marcille's misguided wish had long term consequences.

This wasn't intended to be seven pages long with the lyrics to A Thousand Years by Christina Perri shoved in, but that's what it ended up being. The song seemed a little too perfect not to include.

All of my Chilshi posts were drawn up on the day, and I used them mostly as an excuse to experiment, whether it be posing, body types, shading, comic layouts... My later entries got to be a little more ambitious with what I wanted to do with them, so they're maybe not as polished as I would like them to be, but I hope you can enjoy them anyways.

Whilst I'm here, I'd like to extend a special thankyou to @dumblilracoon for dealing with my awful brainstorming and struggling all week. Couldn't have done this without you. And of course, the Chilshi Nation discord server for being so lovely! :)

If you reblogged or liked or commented on even one of my Chilshi week posts, thankyou so much! Chilshi week has been a blast and working on it and seeing all the lovely art and writing that's come up from it has been a treat.

Happy Chilshi Week, everybody!

[solargeist]

okay so i completely don't know what's up with the kid xelqua au... can i get a brief explanation... just so i know basically what's going on... (or direct me to a post that already has an explanation, that works too!)

oh man. Uhh… brief…. Xelqua is an alternative Watcher version of Grian from a different timeline, who turns into a kid, and Grian takes care of him.

Full explanation under the cut 😇

KidXelqua AU is a continuation of EvoAU.

EvoAU is my AU about Grian’s life in Evo and being manipulated into joining the Watchers, and the effects it’s had on him then and after. 

The Watchers were specifically like family to him.

In EvoAU, during season 8 of Hermitcraft, they open up a hole in the ground to the void, known as the boatem hole, just like canon. However, the void has an effect on Watchers, granting them their enchantments. This slowly, and unknowningly, starts to affect Grian, along with his sleep deprivation, and makes him paranoid.

This all happens late into s8, practically the end of it.

This introduces Xelqua, which is literally just a full Watcher Grian under a different name. 

Xelqua is basically a doomed timeline Grian, he has no home to return to, and he’s never known Hermitcraft. He has no friends nor family, so he spends his time traveling through the void. 

Somewhat similar to ~bill cipher, if you will, Xelqua destroyed his own timeline, so he’s forced into other timelines. This means his code is unstable. 

There’s a somewhat positive to this, Xelqua is chaotic and enjoys causing trouble, he’ll go into servers and wreck things before leaving. Mostly, he likes to find other versions of Grian and encourage troublemaking. Quietly dropping a weapon near Grian, and whatever happens, happens ! Xelqua likes to watch. 

So Xelqua finds Hermitcraft, the server seems to be unstable at the moment, the moon ? Not even Xelqua’s fault, he just got here! But he does notice the familiar energy from Grian, and it’s interesting, fun even. Xelqua listens to Grian’s paranoid rambles through Boatem, and watches plucked fathers gently float down into the darkness.

Typically, Xelqua wouldn’t do this, but he doesn’t often—if ever—meet other Watcher Grians, so he reaches up and drags Grian into the void with him, before possessing him.

Xelqua can only do this due to their codes being almost exactly alike. Real easy to puppet when the glove fits !!

Um. This part is a bit vague since I haven’t seen enough POVs for s8, lol, I know there’s a lot of lore going on, but !! Xelqua crawls out of the Boatem hole, and it’s actually not super fun piloting an exhausted sleep deprived Grian, his muscles feel like lead, his wings are itchy from the plucked feathers and lack of proper preening, and he has a raging headache. 

Xelqua can see the code structure of servers, he reaches out and tears away at it, breaking the firewall and protections X has on it. It looks a lot like barrier blocks or chunk borders from his perspective. 

This burns Grian’s hands, as he doesn’t have the talons that Watchers have.

This opens the server up to all sorts of trouble, Watchers take notice of the instability, on a server they didn’t even know existed ! Typically they’re watching every server.

A group of Watchers get involved, Xelqua is still fighting with Hermits, Xisuma shows up 15 minutes late with coffee to see his server collapsing on itself.

Xelqua, satisfied with the attention and destruction, (but mostly just tired), leaves Grian and flies back into the void, followed by a few Watchers.

The rest of the Watchers decide to shut the server down and force the players to leave. (Not like they had a choice Anyway, but watchers are strict and controlling.)

I don’t know if Grian’s original Watchers are involved in this or not—likely, because it’d be the only reason the others don’t just kill Grian right then and there or take him back to the void themselves. I won’t get into it here.

Anyway, whatever, leaving s8 goes as it does in canon, boatem crew travel through the void into their new server. Grian clings to Mumbo the entire time. (Prior to this, Mumbo was the only Hermit to know about Grian’s past.) (I mean besides Xisuma and Pearl, but more so.)

Grian explains himself to the Hermits when they’re all settled in s9, Xisuma helps. 

Grian also has a brief recovery period, his wings are damaged and unkept, his hands are burned, nails cracked, the exhaustion and body ache in general…. 

Obviously, Xelqua secretly follows them to season 9. But he doesn’t say or do anything for a long while, he’s content just watching the server, in between the code.

Eventually he does show himself to Grian again, but he’s quick to defend himself, saying he means no trouble this time !!! Promise !!!! He did raid Grian’s fridge though, oopsies. 

For a while, on and off, Xelqua hangs around Grian’s house—the weird wizard shoe looking one. Maybe sometimes The Entity. Xelqua is just curious abt Grian, he’s a Watcher too, and a Watcher that doesn’t currently hate him, so they’re practically family. Grian is tolerating him. They do talk though, Grian finds out who exactly Xelqua is, and it’s not hard to believe, they do look exactly alike in face and build, but it is weird anyway.

Like I mentioned earlier, Xelqua’s code is unstable, so one day Grian goes home and finds a little kid there, drinking juice out of his fridge. They startle each other. 

Grian is confused and immediately suspicious. He gets no actual answers from Xelqua beyond just his name.

Grian spends the next few days watching this kid, not fully believing this is an actual kid, he assumes Xelqua is tricking him or something. It’s a stressful few days, Grian doesn’t get much done running back and forth. He’s beginning to wonder if this kid is Xelqua’s kid, the kid denies this, but does say it’d be cool if true.

Grian is forced to tell Xisuma about this, and also admit that Xelqua is on the server again. Slowly Grian introduces the kid to other Hermits, since he doesn’t know how long he’ll have to watch him for, until Xelqua gets back, assumingly ? Grians incredibly stressed out abt this, he faults himself for s8, and it’s only been a few months, but he’s seemingly causing trouble for s9. He thinks he’s always causing trouble for Xisuma.

Kid Xelqua, just like the older one, is also in and out of the server. Online and offline, if you will. This is insanely scary the first time it happens. Grian just can’t find him anywhere, he may find him annoying, but still, it’s a kid, it’s scary. Grian contacts Xisuma again, and through ~game mechanics, checks to see if Xelqua is ~online. He’s not. Grian can only assume Xelqua is messing with him, and had left again.

Next time, when regular adult Xelqua is on the server, Grian confronts him, asking where the kid is, what happened, what does he want, etc. Xelqua has no idea what he’s talking about. Genuinely. 

Xelqua has an unstable code, and occasionally he switches into other versions of himself; there's only four but he takes on the personality and cognitive ability. The kid version is mentally, emotionally, and physically a child, he knows he’s a Watcher, but that’s it. The switch uuusually only happens off the server.

Grian learns and treats each version as their own. Since they all share the same name, I refer to the main one as the Saint, the kid is obviously The Kid, there’s an Evo version, and an extra uniformed Watcher one. They all have their own memories, feelings, and relationships. 

Xelqua has been compared to systems or age regression, he serves sorta as an analogy, but the AU revolves around healing and inner child. (Which, I support systems and age regression !)

SOOO !!!! THATS !!! Where Kid Xelqua comes from. It’s convoluted. 

Kid Xelqua still ages and grows, but depending on how poor the Saint’s mental state is, he might be smaller than usual, regressing almost. 

In general, Xelqua starts to view Grian as a brother, that’s how their dynamic is, but the kid starts to view him more like a dad. (Grian also starts to view the kid as his son, his special boy ! His joy !)

Originally, kid Xelqua was a one off thing for something irrelevant, I just became obsessed with it, and here I am a year later. Lol.

[chipperchemical]

it's time for my annual insanity arc, so here is every hermit/traffic ship that i actively enjoy and 1 headcanon for each one! (worth mentioning that i love most ships, these are just my favourites)

Grian x Mumbo (Grumbo) -> Grian is the only one who can bring Mumbo out of his redstone hyper-focus mode by cooking him unnecessarily gourmet meals and pretending to be sad when Mumbo doesn't instantly sit down to eat with him.

Grian x Scar (Scarian) -> When Scar's in his wheelchair, Grian will run around while pushing him and sing the Mario Kart star song at full volume.

Grian x Bdubs (Gridubs) -> They have a STRICT nighttime routine and if anyone interrupts then they will never hear the end of it.

Grian x Doc (Gridoc) -> Grian keeps bringing different animals home and Doc keeps trying to say no, but every single one grows on him eventually.

Grian x Mumbo x Scar (Mumscarian) -> Mumbo keeps trying to convince the other two to eat redstone, but he's only successfully convinced Scar.

Bdubs x Doc (Bdoc) -> The absolute embodiment of the sunshine/moon trope, but Doc is the sunshine and Bdubs is the moon.

Bdubs x Etho (Ethdubs) -> Etho likes trying on dresses and skirts and gives Bdubs little catwalk fashion shows.

Bdubs x Impulse (Impdubs) -> Extremely sweet to each other while destroying their enemies.

Bdubs x Keralis (Kerdubs) -> They spend every Sunday eating cereal and watching a movie in bed.

Bdubs x Mumbo (Bedstone) -> Mumbo's fast food order is always incorrect and Bdubs is the one who has to ask the worker to correct it.

Bdubs x Zedaph x Impulse x Tango x Skizz (BZITS) -> The ONLY thing that makes them all chill out after hard days is a massive cuddle pile in their nest of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals.

Cub x Scar (Cubscar) -> When they're close to each other, their eyes get slightly bluer and their prankster urges get stronger, like a physical biological change.

Cub x Doc (Docub) -> They constantly dress up as Dr Frankenstein and Frankenstein's Monster for Halloween, and they switch who is who every year.

Doc x Etho (Detho) -> Doc leaves little gifts and bouquets around Etho's base, but Etho either doesn't see them or has zero idea who they're from until Doc brings it up.

Doc x Ren (Rendoc) -> The fathers of the server.

Doc x Joel (Doel) -> They are the most stubborn and competitive couple to the point that the others can't tell if they're on the verge of breaking up or not -- they never are.

Doc x Zedaph x Impulse x Tango x Skizz (DZITS) -> They regularly smoke zaza together and bake brownies.

Etho x Joel (Smalletho) -> Their only petnames for each other are vicious insults.

Impulse x Skizz (Skizzpulse) -> Impulse doesn't typically like touch, but Skizz's hugs are so warm and comforting that he doesn't mind one bit.

Impulse x Zedaph x Tango (ZIT) -> Tango and Impulse have amazing body heat while Zedaph is always cold, so their cuddles are the perfect temperature.

Impulse x Zedaph x Tango x Skizz (ZITS) -> The other Hermits figured out that they were a polycule after extreme confusion over why they all kiss each other.

Impulse x Tango x Skizz (ITS) -> Impulse and Skizz both use Tango as a heat pack for their wings and chronic pains.

Tango x Jimmy (Ranchers) -> They're both the absolute best gift-givers and always give each other the perfect presents.

Skizz x Tango x Jimmy (Jizzango) -> Jimmy goes non-verbal sometimes so they all know sign language and are experts at Charades.

[palettepainter]

ZOOT COUSINS DOODLE DUMP!! Lazer and Penny themed!! Sorry this one took a while, I ended up coming up with some awesome ideas on the Muppet server I'm on thanks to the help of my friends so it took me a bit to decide which doodles to post now and what to develop later

Brief lil notes on each drawing

1)Before he perused music and eventually became a DJ Lazer had a part time job working in a hair dressers his father frequented. Lazer thought about perusing it as a permanent career, but ultimately his heart was set on loud, heavy music. He helped Zephyr and Liv dye their hair when they expressed interest in trying it out

2-3)the twins as kids. Gavin (aka Lazer) has always been the more extroverted and outgoing of the two, with Penny pre her transition being the more withdrawn, quiet and antisocial one. Naturally this made Penny a target for bullying at school, which lead to Lazer getting into scuffles with classmates when standing up for her.

This was a factor that lead to Penny becoming so blunt and honest with her opinions after her transition, gaining the confidence to speak out when she sees something that she believes or is wrong, and why it is Lazer and her - despite their differences - are as close as they are

4-7) The twins's dad Carlos became close friends with Tina before his career as a presenter took off and before he became a farther, which meant that the twins would often be dragged along on trips to New Orleans when Carlos was in town visiting, which meant they were kind of forced to hang out with Teeth from an early age. Lazer and Teeth didn't become friends until later down the line when the two had started to flourish in their music careers (as a teen Teeth found Lazer to be a bit overbearing for his shyer self), but him and Penny became surprisingly understanding of each other. As teens both Teeth and Penny struggled to talk with their parents about certain things (Teeth for his dreams about music and Penny being in the closest about being trans), so overtime grew to become better at talking to each other and being their to support the other

After Penny's transition she was very nervous to see Teeth again after so long, especially given how much she had changed since they were kids. But it didn't take long for the two to hit it off as though nothing had changed and no time had passed! To this day Penny thinks of Teeth as one of her closest friends outside of family

8)Doodles of the goobers. I love Doddie's hair, drawing it all flowy is fun! Also I had an urge to draw her in Yor's iconic red jumper from Spy Family. I feel like it'd suit her! Lazer loves his pretty girlfriend very much

Doddie belongs to @posies-and-bundles

9-10) Lazer is a dad!! During the rise in his career when he began to properly grow in popularity, Lazer was getting stressed and burnt out from the workload. He had heard pets had calming affects on anxiety and stress, so brought what he believed was a kitten...turns out no, he hadn't brought a kitten. When Dubz kept growing, and especially when she sprouted wings one random day, Lazer discovered that Dubz wasn't just an ordinary pet and was more likely some weird creature like Animal. Que his panicked realisation of sudden parenthood:

"Welp guess this kid is my responsibility....oh my god- this kid is MY responsibility!!-"

Despite his panic and stress, the restless nights and anxiety, Lazer quickly grows attached to his weird little hairy baby and vice versa. He sought out support from Penny and Floyd (he and Floyd became good friends as kids), the latter of whom offered some pretty good advice for handling bizarre baby creatures, and Lazer later named her Dubz. Penny insisted she needed an actual name, so Lazer then changed it to Dubstep Gabrielle Hernandez. He wuvs his daughter so much he's such a girl dad, he takes Dubz to the shack often so Dubz can have playdates with Lottie

[shotmrmiller]

Okay but, this is fun! (When I was a server? I wore short skirts, stockings and heeled boots. They let me wear them, I had no joy in my life. So? I dressed up my uniform to make myself happy at the sacrifice of my feet at the end of shift.) I don’t miss it but, I had fun as a server.

Running up to the bar and whispering to Johnny to ‘look at table 4’ because the lady sitting there is recovering from a bbl and has bandages *holding* her butt up. (True story)

Any bit of gossip, you beeline back and Simon’s already waiting like ‘wots happenin’ now?’

Making faces at Johnny as you take someone’s order to show you’re displeased.

Whining to Simon ‘it’s that guy who sends everything back to get it comped again!’ When he hears someone sent the wings back… *again*

Snickering openly as Johnny is stuck with 2 horny old ladies at the bar and making faces at him when the customers aren’t looking to mock him.

Standing with Johnny at the bar and quietly conversing. “Nae way, that’s her father’ ‘I’m telling you! Crusty dusty with his side dish!’

Quickly squeaking behind Simon when shit looks like it’s going to get real in a few seconds. ‘Oh, that local crack head is back- Simon! Great to see you!’ *quickly scoots behind him* and just like- ‘hi!’ And peaking around him like he’s a s.w.a.t shield

Having to shoo Johnny away from the food Simon made you- ‘yea left it unattended!’ ‘This is the only food I’ve had in the past 6 hours! Simon! He’s eating my food!’ ‘She lies!’

Going to Simon with puppy dog eyes when you can’t open a jar-

Johnny plonking his butt down in the booth you’re rolling silverware in and not leaving even when you try and shoo him away to tend to the bar- the boss is glaring at me! He’s getting mad at me! Move your butt before I get in trouble because of you!’

Price being the manager that lets you get away with murder. If it makes you happy? He’ll turn a blind eye as long as you do your job. That goes for the other two knuckle heads… with you around? Johnny’s not fucking the customer base as often, leaving less upset girls coming in and making scenes when he inevitably doesn’t call them back. And Simon is fighting less, taking less smoke breaks (saving them for later) and making more orders properly (so you don’t get flack for it) so, he’ll turn a blind eye to what they’re doing to you… not that he isn’t doing it himself.

Trauma bonding from the shit job makes you real close that it kind of- makes you ignore when they get too handsy? ‘They’re still the guys, it’s fine’

(Bistro Huddy is so accurate it’s painful…)

(Dubious *not really* consent: Being trapped in the out of the way supply closet in the far back where no one goes. Your shift ended an hour ago but, you’re stuck; bent over an old chair stored there. Price zips up his pants- before you can stand back up again Simon’s stepping in where Price is stepping out and pushing you to bend back over the chair again. -Johnny running in for a quickie whenever he can- By the time the guys close up? You’re sore, gaping, leaking, overstimulated, and sniffling. And they’re all drawing straws who get’s to take you home and ‘take care of you’ so you’ll show up to your shift tomorrow.…I can’t do nsfw to save my life… I’m sorry, lol)

(Thought of this at the end but, Server Gaz?)

I WANT YOU TO KNOW

YOU WRETCH (affectionate, oh so affectionate i could kiss you)

THAT THE LAST BIT

OHHH MAN IM SCRREAMINGGGGUH

chile. having to give your receipts and the 3% you owe to price always ends up with his spend soaking your knickers :/ he prob knows your body better than you do, clever fingers making you peak before he does because yall (he) doesn't have the luxury of time on yalls (his) side. (not the other servers banging on the door because theyre just trying to go home)

imagine running to kyle because he seems to be the only sane one. you tried to eat lunch with him that one time in the back but it ended up with you cockwarming him as you attempted to pathetically eat your burger. (he hadn't even touched you and you'd come twice. poor you, so pent up from the week's frustrations. wait til simon hears about this.)

johnny doesn't hear about it but feels it once he finds you in the corner booth no one uses except the waiters who close, tiredly doing the silverware. his hands make quick work of your apron and the button on your jeans, pads of his fingers lightly catching your clit and dipping into your entrance but surprise surprise. wet. slick.

he mutters in your ear if it was price or simon that's left a mess behind but kyle's sitting a couple tables down from you counting his tips. that'd be me, sorry.

he's not sorry.

simon would be the type to scoop up his seed with his thick fingers and stuff it back into your used cunt talkin bout take that with you like it's a box to go lmao

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 JOE - "highest of highs, lowest of lows" (2/2)

Joe x Reader 6.1k words hurt/comfort A continuation of this post. Being part of Joe's gang has its ups and downs, chaos being the closest thing you have to a stable routine, every single day full of adventures. Your friends pulled you from the rubble and into the light, you've been with them through thick and thin─and yet, as the years pass, it all grows stale. Repetitive, even. Tiring. A new era approaches. You're not strong enough to hold on and withstand the whirlwind of change, and neither is he. Even so, your faith in the dream Joe has given to all of Haight Street never wavers. You'll find a way out, together. But only if he's willing to move on.

ffffffffffffuck ai scrapers fuck that guy we must thrive and keep creating forever!!! joe undivorce is real now!!!! even if i have to lock my posts for registered users, we must thrive!!!!!! and have fun!!!!! forever!!!!! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I'd like to thank everyone in the R99 RP server and the academy for being there during the struggle of joe undivorce, this part went thru 5 or 4 different drafts. at some point it was meant to start with joe out in the rain playing i wanna know what love is on a boombox outside your window but i had to cut stuff so this part wouldnt be 10k words for no reason

Finally, Joe undivorce, sleepy time joe part 2....! as usual, this is written to be read as platonic or romantic, whatever floats your boat!

That fight weeks ago left a massive rift between the two of you, one that he was certain would simply go away with enough time and space, nothing new. 

You'd eventually come crawling back, letting him back into your life with a not-so-playful smack to the head and a smile attempting to break through your angry façade, no one could stay angry forever after all, it's a matter of waiting. And Joe had no problem standing his ground until the end of time, unyielding to change and yet ready to welcome everyone back under his wing. This is the cycle he's used to; this is how he used to argue with his father, his mother and, later on, with Paulina. Whenever he had a tense conversation with Pioneer or Mercuria about the state of their community and the struggle to maintain their promises. Hell, it even happened with Becket and Hollick whenever their playful banter and bickering turned a little too honest, a little too resentful and raw with the stress of routine.

This, Joe reluctantly admits in his mind, is how he deals with everything─when push comes to shove, he burns and burns until the world around him is reduced to ashes, telling himself that he did what he had to for the greater good. There is simply no other way out, and if there were, he would've tried already. This is how things must be, the shitty hand they were all dealt with. And after that? He brushes it off, returning to that dreadful routine of friendly smiles and casual teasing, waiting for the barren land to heal in silence until someone extends an olive branch, a peace offering, a hug or pat on the back to signal the beginning of yet another cycle. He's always been the victor in these one-sided fights one way or another.

But tonight marks the seventh day of Joe's convoluted plan to beg for your forgiveness.

On the first day, he thought he could simply drop by your apartment and sort everything out, face to face, and restore the status quo before dinner─one of your neighbours threw a bucket of cold water at him after he spent an entire hour ringing your doorbell. On the second day, he made sure to call you every fifteen minutes from the restaurant, from the phonebooth across your house, from Hollick's apartment, from any available phone─the only time you picked up is when Joe intercepted the pizza delivery guy on their way to your apartment, only to have you hang up on him the second you heard his voice. The rest of the week continued to spiral, testing his perseverance and creativity for new ways to see you. Every day, the anxiety lodged in his chest would grow bit by bit.

Years of working away at the forge have made his hands as steady as death and yet, at the aftermath of each and every fight when all he can do is accept the silent treatment, Joe realizes that his heart is much too strong to ignore; impulse after impulse, every pump of blood becoming another series of words he will come to regret, every step takein the wrong direction entirely. It's only then that he realizes that he deserves every bitter look, every missed call and every second apart. Only then, when there is no one else to contend with but himself.

He's not so different from the metals under his care─the proud and stubborn iron, all instinct and zero intentions of bending to anyone else's will. And while he himself can keep repeating this cycle over and over, it's easy to forget that not everyone has the time, energy or patience to match his temper. Paulina was either the first one to fully break under the pressure of his presence, or the only one who had the courage to step away from the scorching fire and allow herself room to heal, to grow without him hindering her.

Just how long can keep on pushing until you make the same choice as her?

It makes him anxious just to think about the possibility of making the same mistakes, of letting you go so easily because of his own pride. He's ran out of options, and so he stands perfectly still in front of your door, arms crossed as he fights the urge to pace across the claustrophobic hallway. Have you even been eating well? It's one thing to avoid him, but to avoid the outside world altogether is too extreme, too upsetting. A small plastic bag hangs from his forearm, holding the leftovers from today's shift at Tang's; the tupperware inside is still warm with your favorite food.

Fuck it, he start pacing around. Heavy footsteps mix with the sound of crinkling plastic, the shuffle of the leather jacket hanging awkwardly off his shoulders, the cracking of the joints in his knuckles as Joe attempts to release some of the tension in his body. The muffled roar of engines outside and people passing by, and now, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder, accompanied by a nagging feeling in the back of his mind.

It's something that is difficult enough to describe to other arcanists, let alone any humans─a judgemental voice that blankets over his brain like a dense fog, a feeling across his body that he can never quite pinpoint. The arcanum he's inherited from his father, which allows him to understand the voices, desires and, to an extent, thoughts of various raw materials and metals. It's an essential ability in his line of work, and yet ...

Give it up, Romeo. Today's not your lucky night.

Your fucking doorknob has the balls to give him sass everytime he comes by.

Joe pays it no mind; it has to be an alloy of sorts, perhaps zinc. Out of all metals, they're the only chatty ones with a penchant for gossip, to criticize everything around them with a condescending clink. The steel grating of the fence outside offers no comment, seeing him time and time again standing under the rain for the chance to catch a glimpse of you through the window. The rusty copper of the stairs is always polite, even when he stumbles and falls day after day climbing to your floor in a frenzy. But this damned thing loved to look down on him, the guardian to your current sanctuary. Its message reaches him loud and clear, so easy to decypher.

Are you going to apologize to them?

Joe hesitates, "I want to."

But there is a key difference between wanting and doing. 

He wants to do whatever it takes to make everything go back to normal, to wake up knowing he'll see you joking around with Sputnik at Tang's, that you'll let him drive you around town when none of you have anything better to do than to waste your days away, together. He wants to say sorry, he wants to save the restaurant, he wants his friends to have honest jobs, he wants to stop fighting for scraps. All these things in so little time. But right now, he can't even get that damned door open to see you. He doesn't even know if you're home─much like a misbehaving dog, all Joe seeks is that familiar face to give him permission to come back home.

I want to see you. I want to see you so bad. I want to see you tonight even if it's the last thing I do. 

Perhaps this arcane communication is a two-way street, or maybe he's allowed some of his feelings to slip through and show on his face, because the condescending ringing subsides and silence settles once more. Your doorknob shows some mercy and whispers in his mind.

They're here.

There it is. His lifeline.

Joe calls out your name, banging his fists on the door. He's done this before, not in this exact building nor hallway, but with the exact same desperation in his gestures. The thought crosses his mind for a split second as he rattles the doorknob as if he could open it through will alone.

"Listen! It's been a month already, I get that you're mad at me but, shit, can we talk? You can be as angry as you want, you can scream at me and push me around, dump all the extra work and shifts on me, call me an idiot and a meathead─whatever you wanna do to get it out of your system, I'll take it. Just open the door!" When no reply comes, Joe presses his face to the cold surface of the door, trying to hear for any movement within your apartment. Nothing. "Look, I won't judge if you've been survivin' on coffee and instant ramen, but I got some real food here to fill your stomach. You don't even have to let me inside, I just, ugh, me and the guys haven't heard a peep from ya'! C'mon, they're─I'm worried sick, I gotta know you're doin' alright! I took you for granted, alright? I know that now."

The words pour out of his mouth effortlessly after keeping them down for so long, and soon Joe finds himself shaking. Not out of sadness, but a unique type of excitement─or madness─that comes with admiting defeat; to no one's surprise, this is a brand new feeling for him, never allowing any sort of vulnerability to slip to the surface. The bag slips out of his grip and falls to the floor unceremoniously as he drags both hands across his face, feeling the uncomfortable warm, rugged leather on his skin as a way to ground himself. Once he's done, Joe reels backwards a few steps, trying to control his erratic breathing. One step back, then another, and another.

Until he feels a hand resting on the small of his back, gently keeping him at bay.

"Watch it, J. You're gonna end up squishing me if─" Your voice echoes in the hallway and Joe turns as fast as his body allows it, unsure if this tired and slightly irritated voice scolding him is just a product of his imagination. But it isn't, he sees you right there, so close to him. And in the blink of an eye, you find yourself enveloped by Joe, his arms secured around your shoulders as he leans more and more of his weight over your frame as if trying to squeeze the life out of you. "Woah! Hey, hey! Joe─fuck, J, stop! I'm gonna fall over!"

The Sun could crash into the Earth and Joe would still continue to hold you. Burying his nose in your hair, you feel that tense line of his mouth finally curve into a smile─the first one since your fight─and the vibration in his throat as he laughs, amused by the way you struggle helplessly in his grip. How could he not laugh when you're patting his shoulders, pinching his back and poking at his rubs to push him away? 

"Okay, okay! I get it, whatever!" Your panic is endearing as he hoist you up effortlessly, so that your feet hover a little above the ground and you have no option but to hold on to him. "Put me down, I'm not going anywhere!"

"How do I know you're not gonna just lock me outta your apartment the second I drop you?" The tone is playful, but the question is genuine. That mocking snort of yours reminds Joe that even though he's finally caught you, there's still a long way before he can make up for that fight. And so, he curls into you once more, this time hiding his face in the crook of your neck. "Don't wanna risk it."

"Fine, do whatever you want. Like always."

For a split second, he frowns and the most immediate thought in his brain is to reply with the same amount of contempt─Fine! Maybe he will! Maybe he should just drag you over to Tang's and sit you down at the office until both of you get so tired of arguing that there'll be no other option but to forgive each other─but he doesn't. Joe catches himself. It takes a moment to swallow his pride, but his grip on you weakens and soon enough, you're back on your feet.

Unbeknownst to Joe, a shiver runs through you, instantly missing his warmth; you curse his stupid arcane skill, his stupid furnace of a body and his stupid sad eyes, tugging at your heartstrings. The cold is not the only thing creeping around─an awkward atmosphere settles as all action comes to a halt. When faced with the real deal, neither of you know what to do, nor how to begin. As a man of simplicity, Joe prepares to apologize as soon as possible, until he notices the brown paper bags settled at your feet.

You follow his line of sight and add, "I went grocery shopping. The uh," there is a small pause as you find the proper words. It's not like you owe him anything, let alone the truth. "I ran out of food. So I went and got some."

He tries to peek inside the bag, and you move the bag away with a gentle sweep of your leg, but it's too late. You know he's seen it, judging by the way Joe crosses his arms with a smug attitude that he simply cannot repress. "Instant ramen."

"Instant ramen." You repeat, internally boiling at the fact that he could read you so well despite this month of silence. It's not weird at all, considering the years you two have spent together, but it still hurts your own pride, if only a little. "What about it?"

It's almost too easy to fall back into the usual banter and the flow of conversation as if nothing happened, but Joe taps at his chin as he looks away. He was never any good at acting. "Nothin'! Nothing wrong with that, just wonderin' how you haven't gotten tired of it yet."

"You're not here to give me cooking tips, Joe." There's a defiant tone in your voice that keeps getting to him. Have you always had this effect on him? 

"... What if I am? Is that enough to let me into your apartment and make sure we're cool?" The pause between his words and your reply extends to a worrying degree, Joe feels dizzy waiting for the worst to happen. 

Instead, you offer your own olive branch.

"It's late. So you can sleep over, if you want."

You make a bee-line for the kitchen to put your groceries away, leaving him without a single word. The second he realizes he’s standing in your apartment, Joe can’t help but feel out of place; he’s been here plenty of times, he’s crashed on your sofa as many times as he’s crashed his bike, but this is the one and only time he’s felt unwelcomed. No, that isn’t right─this is the first time he’s felt … 

Like he doesn’t have the right to intrude in your life.

If he looks closely, he can spot the off-colored patch on the wall from the time Hollick punched a hole through during one of the many movie marathons you hosted, back when Paulina and Tang were still around, and everyone else had more time to waste during those lazy afternoons. A horror movie whose title he can't recall, but the memory of everyone's loud screams during a particularly scary scene plays in his head vividly. There's innocuous and superficial scratches in various places, which he recognizes as Becket's habit of fidgeting around with that butterfly knife he earned during a fight in the ring. He does this often everywhere he goes; if one were to look around the restaurant, they'd immediately find out about Becket's favorite spots just by finding these marks. There's also a few gifts from Mercuria, plants, herbs and incense to remedy whatever ails you. Joe can never remember the purpose of each and every bundle, let alone understand the intricacies of meditation and purification, yet he trusts Mercuria to look out for everyone else's health.

Soon, those bright blue eyes are drawn to a curious sight. There is a wall in your apartment full of photos, polaroids of all shapes and sizes, decorated in a myriad of ways to showcase all your adventures in Haight Street with all of the friends you've made. It's easy for him to recognize each and every face given his own connections with the community, but someone is missing. He is missing from the wall, there is an obvious empty spot where his picture with you should be. His heart sinks a little at this.

Before Joe realizes, he's already calling out your name once again. "Hey, what happened to our picture? The one that was just the two of us." 

Peeking his head through the door, he looks for you in that poor excuse of a kitchen, one he can barely fit in without knocking something over. You're holding two mugs in your hands; on the right, he sees your favorite, the one with that pattern he finds horrendous, and on the left, you're holding his favorite mug with the logo that you hate. You usher him out into the living room, silently gesturing for him to stop trying to help carry the warm drinks. 

"I took it off the wall." Joe grimaces, and you roll your eyes as you sit on the sofa, scooting over to the side to make space for him. "I didn't rip it apart or draw over your face, if that's what you're worried about." 

Oh, thank God.

"It's the only good picture we got, you gotta treasure it." The reply he receives is a noncommital hum, and he knows better than to push it.

The plush cushions cave under his weight as he sits down, making you bounce a little on your own side of the couch, shifting you a little closer to him so that your knee touches his. And while you refuse to meet his eyes, you still allow this moment of closeness. If you lose focus, if you get a little too comfortable in his presence, you know that your body will end up tangled up with his in a mess of limbs as if nothing happened, too used to the casual physical touch Joe shares with those close to him. All the hugs, all the manhandling, all the hair ruffling and playful headlocks. You bite your lip, saddened by the bittersweet tint coating all of these memories. What to say now? How to bring up the elephant in the room?

"Eugh," Joe suddenly blows a raspberry, tongue sticking out in mild disgust. He sets down the cup on the table. "Too sweet for me."

"Oh. Wait, that's mine. Sorry, must've─" You reach out to switch the drinks, but he slides it to the side just out of your reach. A shit-eating grin is plastered all over his face, a knowing grin that twists your insides into a knot. "Huh?" 

This faux pas of yours proves to be the perfect opening for his usual antics. Joe leans closer to you, tilting his head towards the mug in your hands; it's your favorite color, with a simple drawing of your favorite animal scattered about. He always loves to poke fun at you for it, calling you childish and immature to see that angry pout in your face. "That one's mine, then?" You nod and he chuckles.

"Dude, what is it?"

"It's not like you to overlook small details, y'know? Got the keenest eye in all of Haight Street. Hell, you can spot a liar from a mile away." One of his fingers traces the rim of the mug in front of him, that sweet drink made just to your liking, feeling every little chip and crevice, a well-loved mug meant for him. It's colored in bright orange with a big, bold font reading 'Too Hot for You' and a small drawing of a steaming cup of coffee. You hate this mug with a passion, and yet you've always taken care of it for him. "Guess you missed me as much as I missed you."

He should've noticed before; you had been using his mug in his absence, you covered his face in every single picture in your house, you were wearing one of his old shirts that he forgot at your place and never bothered asking for again, the faint music coming from the radio in your kitchen is playing one of his favorite stations... It puts Joe's heart at ease to know that he's been on your mind as much as you've been on his these past few weeks. You weren't packing your bags to leave everything behind, you missed him out of all people. He's always been dense, but now that he's taking his time paying attention to you and all the color you add to his life, he finds it difficult to stop himself from smiling. 

"Now, aren't you getting ahead of yourself? I wasn't the one who showed up at three in the morning half-drunk, holding up a boombox to play love songs until the neighbours called the cops, was I?"

"Those are some big words for someone who hid around the market stalls, thinking I wouldn't see their little face peek out from the apples and oranges."

"They were bananas." You correct him. "But what about you today, huh? Did you know I was here or were you just hoping that I was just to listen to that little speech?"

"If I tell you, it'll take away all the mystery."

"Joe."

"Okay, okay, fine! Your doorknob ratted ya' out."

“My fucking doorknob ?” He has to stop himself from bursting out laughing at your expression. All he can do is nod as you curse his arcanist heritage; even though it wasn’t as flashy as others’, it still came in handy to hear the voices of metals. “I hate that arcanum of yours─what’s next, my toaster?” 

Joe watches as you sink back into the sofa, groaning into your palms. With the awkward tension from before gone, there’s no need to walk on eggshells anymore; he leans backwards as well, finding a comfortable position to lay on his side. After a minute or so, you’re done with your little temper tantrum and tilt your head to meet his eyes for the first time─he smiles and rests his hand on the empty space between your bodies, atop the plush cushions with his palm open, as if asking you for something. 

"Just so you know, the little guy put up quite the fight. I don't think it likes me."

“Alright, fine. You said you wanted to make sure we’re cool, so out with it then. I’m all ears.” Your tone is not quite as light nor playful as he hoped, but not as severe either. He feels safe enough to laugh it off. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees your own hand approaching his, clenched into a fist but still nearby. 

"Where do I even start?" A strained chuckle comes out of him. There is something daunting about meeting your eyes as he delivers yet another speech─hopefully one less rushed and emotional than the one before─and so, Joe opts to look anywhere else; the curve of your lips and your jaw. His gaze moves lower to your neck and collarbone. The way your body folds and squishes as it presses against the couch, as if you were listening to a bedtime story. Your undivided attention, he decides, is daunting. He feels a tug, it's your pointer finger intertwined with his own, encouraging him, and this allows him to continue. "With ... sorry, I guess? I mean, first day I dropped by, I was ready to pick up where we left off and argue a lil' bit more before making up. Doesn't matter now, though. But ... realizing I didn't know how you were holdin' up in here was the worst. I assumed you'd be right there, face smushed against the window, makin' faces at me, cursin' me to hell and back. Maybe even hoping I'd mess up a few orders at Tang's."

Your nimble fingers mess with the cuff of his gloves as you speak, undoing the buttons and sliding the piece of fabric off. Compared to his own skin, yours is so much colder. On instinct, the moment you’re within reach, he takes a hold of your hand, if only to warm you up a little. When you scoot a little closer, his breath is caught up in his throat. "You got one thing right at least; I did cheer when I saw you drop that coffee all over that poor guy. And then ... I got mad, you kept getting all the orders wrong.

“You could’ve just dropped by for your shift.”

“You could’ve just gotten better at waiting tables.”  

“Hey, I did get better! It was a stressful week without you around, alright?” When your grip on him tightens, Joe raises your hand up to his face, if only to nuzzle his cheek alongside your skin. Once, twice. In soothing circles. This time, you’re the one staring in quiet wonder, not daring to make a noise and break the moment. Chapped lips press against your knuckles, one by one, as he holds onto you like his life depends on it.

"Don't even remember when it happened, but I was miserable in bed. Didn't feel like going out, didn't feel like doing anything at all─what's the point if the crew wasn't together? I thought about what you said, the shit I said. We were way over the line, man. That's not how I wanna talk to you guys." 

"That's how you always talked to us, J." A deep cut, you weren't holding back any punches today. "Took you long to realize, but I'm glad you got there in the end."

"Ugh. My mom raised me to be better than that. It's just ... it just comes out, no warning. The second it's out of my hands, it's as if ... Ah, hell." He draws circles on your skin with his thumb, trying to calm himself down. "It's like ... If I don't have a good grasp back at the forge, if my hand slips or trembles, if I lose focus for one second, it's over. Except it's not so bad in the forge, all I get is a little scare or a little burn, but out there? Someone else gets hurt 'cause of me. Someone goes missing c'ause of me. And that scares the crap outta me."

For once, he tilts his head to look at you with a furrowed brow. The unspoken words linger in the air─What if it was you, what if it was Mercuria, or Pioneer. Or Becket and Hollick. Or any of the orphaned kids that depend on him for a single meal a day, or the homeless that so easily get swept under the rug in a system that wants nothing to do with them? The fact that he's still insisting on being the one to carry all of Haight Street on his back is frustrating, but you choose to let him finish. It's rare enough to see Joe admit he's scared of something, even rarer to see him talk at length about what goes on behind that heroic façade.

"It's fine if you guys get angry at me, it's easier to deal with than have any of y'all elbows deep into trouble with the cops or the Chamber of Commerce. 'Cause we're all a family, yeah? Family's argue all the time, doesn't mean they care any less about each other. I mean, you still know I care a lot, right? Even after our fight?"

How can you answer that? How can you find the words to let him know that no, you don't know. You didn't know. That you don't think families should argue like this on the daily, that whatever happened that day was an unfortunate accident of built up, pent up stress, but still something that left you wondering night after night if you would ever feel the same as before, going about your day while knowing how little regard Joe had for you. Right now, you're contending with almost two decades worth of experiences that shaped Joe into the man he is today, all the things he had to learn on his own against your own life lessons and your own experience. Noticing the contrast between the two of you is fun when it's about the little things; you run cold, he runs hot. He prefers salty, you prefer sweet. You're the brains, he's the muscle. But inspecting the fundamental differences this close makes you freeze in place.

Fear seizes your heart─what if this is the reason you two never see eye to eye, what if this is what eventually breaks the bond you share? So incompatible, too alien to understand one another and find common ground.

Joe squeezes your hand. Your palm rests so nicely in his, your fingers resting in the space between his, pressing against pronounced knuckles and veins. The hands that have held you time and time again with no hesitation at all.

"C'mon, don't leave me hanging. Say something, please?" 

You know he's not lying, because you can feel the thin coat of sweat on his skin; Joe's hands get clammy when he gets nervous, but no one notices because he's usually always sweating, either from running errands or being locked in his personal sanctuary, fighting fire and brimstone. You look at him through brand new lenses, as if this were the first time you truly saw him.

"I ..." You swallow the lump formed in your throat. He's been honest, he's here to make amends. It's only fair that you meet him halfway with your own honesty. "You keep saying that you never mean the things you say when we fight, but I do. It was fucked up to bring up Polly─Paulina─but you wouldn't have listened to me if I hadn't! It's─fuck, it's ... You can't say that you care, and then turn around and say all that shit to us─to me─every time thing's go bad. Maybe you can brush it off, but I can't! I don't care if I get angry at some rich suit waltzing into the restaurant, they mean nothing to me. But you?! I don't want to be angry at you all the time. You'd rather hurt us yourself than let something or someone else do that? How is that fair for anyone?!" 

It takes you a moment to realize that you're sitting as upright as your body allows it, driven by the tension in your muscles. Joe has let go of your hand at some point, you don't know when, but now, he reaches towards you once more. It takes you another moment to realize he's gently wiping away the hot, angry tears running down your face. Months of feelings are catching up to you now, and now that you know you're crying, it's hard to stop the broken sobs and the sniffling and the aggressive wiping, a futile attempt at trying to keep your face dry. Joe doesn't wait. He hugs you; one arm craddling your head, gently petting you, while the other supports your waist as you reluctantly find a comfortable position.

"I'm sorry, I'm a big, dumb and dense idiot, huh?" a gravelly voice reaches your ears. The way Joe attempts to stand strong for you, to continue those habits of his even as his voice trembles just as much as yours doesn't go unnoticed. 

"And stubborn," you manage to croak out in-between hiccups.

"A big, dumb, dense and stubborn idiot." He repeats softly.

"Don't you fucking dare patronize me now, J." The threatening tone in your voice is drowned out by your tears and sobs, but it still earns a solemn nod from him. This is new. "I'm serious. You have to take me and everyone else seriously, instead of running off to do it all yourself!"

"R-right. Yeah, okay. I'll─"

Your head shoots up from its hiding place safely tucked under his chin. "Promise me, J. You say you wanna do better, then start with this. The next time you feel the itch to start a fight with us over something stupid, just talk to me─hell, talk to anyone you want. Just don't go do it all on your own. Promise." 

"...One condition; you promise me you'll never run out on me like that ever again. No silent treatment, no avoiding each other for weeks. Tell me to fuck off if you have to, kick me out of the room, but don't cut me out of your life like that without a warning." Joe pauses as he searches for something in your eyes, a hint of helplessness that you've never seen before across his features. "Please."

This is a compromise both of you are willing to take. Resting your forehead against his, you close your eyes and take a deep breath to bask in a quiet moment of understanding─this is how it should be, a fight followed by a reconciliation, a catharsis, a proper ending to know take the next step on the same page. For a moment, you feel his stare and a hint of nervousness as Joe treads through unknown waters, but then he closes his eyes as well.

"Deal." You say.

"Good." Slowly, with you still in his arms, Joe leans backwards until he's laying on the lousy, creaking sofa with you secured atop of him.

His leather jacket lays forgotten on the floor, as do the two mugs by the table, cold and stale. Sirens blare outside on the streets, dealing with the aftermath of parties and bar fights, and cars keep going back and forth the road. But neither of you could care less about such details. All you can concentrate now is the pleasing and gentle movement of Joe's chest as it rises and falls with each and every breath, your head resting gently on top, hearing the tempo of his heartbeat slow down little by little. And all Joe can concentrate now is your weight on him, your full presence after weeks of solitude. Your hair tickles him here and there, and your legs move about restlessly, bumping against his own sometimes on accident, sometimes on purpose as a warning to stop taking up so much space.

"Did you do anything about the restaurant while I was gone? We still need funds." Your voice suddenly breaks up the silence, and Joe follows with a long groan. Part of you brings it up just to test the waters, to start yet another playful back and forth. It's hardly an appropriate time to ask him of any serious business, after all. You too want to bask in his company. "You didn't, did you?"

"And you say that I'm stubborn?" At this, you pinch his cheeks and pull hard enough to sting, just a little. "I did! I did, ow! Pioneer's got us covered. But if you wanna talk business, you'll have to come to work tomorrow with me, let everyone know we're back together and stronger than ever, yeah? Tonight we chill, we've earned it."

His joy is palpable and a little suffocating as he squeezes you as tightly as he can. You can feel him press a gentle kiss to the top of your head. How can he not want to squish you until you pop? When you least expect it, Joe shifts to his side, trapping you between his frame and the backrest of the sofa. In such a reduced space, you have no option but to wrap your arms around his waist, looking up at him with feigned indignation.

"You know I have a perfectly decent bed, right? We can just sleep there."

"And let you kick me while you sleep?" Joe yawns, exhaustion catching up to him. "Nah, this is much better."

"And If I have to get up to drink or go to the bathroom?"

"Can't hear you. I'm sleepin' now. And you should too." 

You chuckle and move to kiss his chin, then his neck, feeling the bob of his Adam's apple. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his mouth turn into a fine line, resisting the urge to indulge you and keep bothering each other until the sun rises, but you're already satisfied. All that's left is closing your eyes and allow his breathing to lull you to sleep.

"Night, pipsqueak."

"Night, dummy."

[therogueflame]

The Bronze Reign Chapter 8 - The Color of Obligation

Hi,

this was supposed to be like 4-5k words shorter i am so sorry lmfao

The song for this chapter is Flickers by Son Lux

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Summary: Vysaria returns to King’s Landing to find her fate already decided. Tensions simmer, a bold toast is made, and a choice lingers in the dark. By morning, the truth is not what it seems.

WC: 10.4k

Warnings: 18+, angst, viserys is struggling lmfao, daemon targaryen, secret pregnancy, arranged marriage, underage marriage

Vysaria Targaryen (fem!oc) x Gwayne Hightower (kinda?)

previous chapter

MDNI!

King’s Landing, Mid 112 AC

The raven came at dawn.

Vysaria did not see it arrive, only heard the quiet murmur of voices beyond her chamber door, the soft rustle of parchment being passed from hand to hand, the shuffle of boots retreating down the stone corridor. She had spent weeks on Dragonstone, long enough for the sea air to feel like home, long enough for the fire in the mountain to settle into her bones. But none of it mattered now.

She sat at the edge of her bed, the letter open in her lap, its words sharp and final.

The time has come. You are to return to King’s Landing at once. Your betrothal has been announced to the realm. The court awaits your arrival. Viserys Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.

A command, not a request. A decree from her father, not a letter from a man who claimed to love her. There was no warmth in it, no mention of how he had longed for her return, no question about what she had found on Dragonstone. Only duty. Only expectation.

The ink was dry, the seal unbroken when it reached her hands. He had made this decision long before she was ever told.

She read it once, then again, as if hoping the words might change, as if something softer might emerge between the lines—something more than the sharp edge of command. But there was nothing.

Before she could fully process it, before the weight of the letter could settle, she was handed another. Both letters arrived at the same time, one bearing her father’s seal, the other a different mark.

Vysaria didn’t hesitate. She cracked the wax, unfolded the parchment, and let her gaze fall on the careful, precise handwriting of Rhaenys Targaryen.

You are walking into a den of vipers. Your father has made his decision. Otto Hightower ensured it was done on his terms. You are of the blood of the dragon. Do not let them forget it.

There was no title, no formality. Just a warning, one written in ink as dark as the wings that carried it.

Vysaria exhaled through her nose, her grip tightening around the letter.

The court awaited her. The betrothal had been sealed. And she was expected to return with a smile on her lips and a bow in her spine.

She rose so abruptly that the chair scraped against the floor, the parchment crumpling in her grip as she strode toward the door. The sharp crack of her boots echoed down the corridor, each step faster than the last, the letter burning in her hands. The halls felt too narrow, the air too thick, and the torches along the walls flickered as she passed, their flames snapping in her wake. Servants stepped aside without a word, knowing better. She knew where to find him, she always did.

The tension in her chest coiled tighter with every step, her breath sharp, her pulse thrumming beneath her skin. Without hesitation, she shoved the door open. The heavy wood slammed against the stone, the impact sending a shudder through the sconces, their light flaring briefly before settling. The room smelled of leather, wine, and the lingering scent of smoldering fire. Daemon didn’t look up. He was leaning against the table, fingers curled loosely around his cup, one boot propped on the chair in front of him. He tilted his head slightly at her entrance, but his gaze remained fixed on the dark red liquid swirling in his hands.

She threw the letter onto the table. It slid across the wood, coming to a stop just inches from his fingers. He reached for it, slow and deliberate, unfolding it with a quiet ease that deepened the knot in her stomach. He read it once, then again.

She watched him closely. He must have known this was coming. She waited for the inevitable smirk, the taunting amusement, for him to scoff at her father’s will. But it never came. Instead, he folded the parchment neatly, letting it fall back to the table.

“That didn’t take long." His voice was light, but there was an edge to it, something sharp curling beneath his casual indifference.

Vysaria crossed her arms. "You knew this was coming."

Daemon finally met her gaze, studying her with an expression that made her stomach tighten. He let the silence stretch, deliberately drawing it out, before rolling his shoulders and reaching for his wine. "Of course, I did." He swirled the liquid absently, not looking at her. "It was only a matter of time before your dear father sent for his wayward daughter. He cannot have you enjoying your freedom too much."

His smirk twitched as he spoke, brief and fleeting, barely reaching his eyes before it disappeared. He took a slow sip of his wine, as if the matter were no more than idle conversation, as if she hadn’t come here with her chest tight and hands clenched to stop herself from shaking.

Vysaria’s nails dug into her arms. "Do you find this amusing?"

Daemon snorted softly, setting his cup back onto the table. "A little."

Her jaw clenched.

Daemon’s smirk vanished as quickly as it had appeared. His hands pressed flat against the table for a fleeting second before he pushed off, closing the space between them in a single, fluid motion.

Vysaria barely had time to react before he was in front of her, so close she could feel the heat radiating off him, his breath still laced with wine and fury. The flickering firelight sharpened the tension in his jaw, the barely restrained storm behind his eyes.

"Do you think I’ve done nothing?" His voice was low now, but still laced with heat. "Do you think I haven’t had to bite my tongue every time they speak your name in that chamber? That I haven’t sat there and listened as Otto Hightower lays his plans, knowing full well what he means to do with you?"

She felt his breath on her skin, every word weighted with something raw. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, but his voice stayed steady, no louder. "I've been trying to protect you in the only way I can. I've kept my actions quiet, ensuring no one sees you as a threat. If they did, they'd strip away whatever control you still have."

Vysaria’s body was rigid, her breath sharp as she tried to ignore how her pulse raced at the sudden proximity between them. "Then why does it feel like you’ve done nothing at all?"

His eyes flashed, dangerous and intense, and his head tilted just enough for their gazes to lock. "Because you don’t see what it takes to keep you from losing everything."

She laughed, short and humorless. "No, uncle. What I see is you doing nothing while my father hands me to a man I do not know, while he takes the last piece of me that is mine to give and gifts it to the Hightowers as if I were some political prize wrapped in silk."

His hand lifted, just barely, as if instinct alone had driven him to grasp her, to make her understand. Instead, he curled his fingers in midair and forced them back to his side. "You think I do not know what this is?" His voice was quieter now, more dangerous than before. "You think I do not want to put my sword through Gwayne Hightower’s heart and send him back to Oldtown in pieces? You think I do not want to burn this all down?"

Her breath caught. He wasn’t joking. Not now. The flickering firelight carved them into the space between shadow and heat, trapped in something neither of them dared to name.

Daemon exhaled sharply, his gaze flickering down to her lips before returning to her eyes. His voice lowered, still sharp but quieter now. "You think I’ve done nothing. You think I’ve just stood by and watched. But I’ve been holding my tongue, keeping my sword at my side while Viserys plays his games, waiting for the right moment to act without losing more than we already have."

Vysaria’s chest rose and fell with sharp, uneven breaths. "Then do something. Say something that matters. Fight for me instead of pretending this is how it has to be."

His breathing was steady but strained, and he didn’t answer right away. When he finally did, there was no mockery in his voice, no detachment—only something raw, something barely contained.

"You want me to fight?" His voice was a low snarl, his breath hot against her skin. "Then tell me what you would have me do. Take you from here? Spill Hightower blood at your feet? Throw you onto Caraxes’ back and let the world call me a thief, a traitor, a villain?"

Vysaria’s throat tightened, her head tilting back slightly as she refused to look away.

"Say the word, and I will do it," he whispered, his voice low, but it was far from soft. His body was rigid with restraint, his hands flexing at his sides. "But do not stand here and tell me I have done nothing when I am the only one who has ever been willing to burn for you."

The air between them grew thick, suffocating.

Her voice was barely a whisper. "Then burn."

The silence stretched, heavy and unyielding. The words cut through the tension like steel, severing the restraint that held them both in place.

Vysaria was the first to move. Her breath steady, her hands clenched tightly at her sides, she stepped back, forcing distance where there had been none. Daemon remained still, rigid, his jaw clenched as if fighting something that wanted to break free.

She turned, and the door groaned as she pulled it open. The dimly lit corridor beyond offered no comfort, no relief from the storm that still burned in her chest. She didn’t look back as she stepped through, her footsteps swift and purposeful, echoing down the stone halls.

Daemon didn’t call after her. The moment the door swung shut behind her, the tension in the room snapped.

Something crashed against the wall, the shatter of glass breaking through the suffocating silence. The fire in the hearth flickered violently at the sudden movement, the flames catching the glint of wine splattered across the stone. Daemon stood where she had left him, his breath harsh, his fingers flexing before clenching into fists. His cup lay in pieces at his feet, the red staining the floor like something deeper, something worse. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes closing for a long, dragging breath.

The days passed in uneasy silence.

The fight had left its mark, lingering in every space they shared, in every word left unsaid. Vysaria did not seek him out, and Daemon made no effort to close the distance between them.

She had spent nearly two months on Dragonstone. What had once felt like exile had become something else, solitude perhaps, but not peace. The island had given her time, time to think, time to wait, though for what, she was no longer sure.

She had walked the blackened cliffs, ridden the winding paths along the coast, stood beneath the Dragonmont where the heat still pulsed beneath the earth. She had flown, soaring across the sky on Vermithor’s back, carving through the clouds, pushing higher, faster, until the ache in her chest was drowned by the rush of the wind.

But it had not changed what waited for her beyond the sea. Viserys had called her back, and now, there was nothing left but to go.

The morning air was cool and crisp, the sky stretching vast and unbroken, streaked with the first hints of gold from the rising sun. The sea was calm beneath the cliffs, waves rolling steadily against the black stone, their rhythm unchanging. The wind carried the sharp scent of salt and smoke, stirring the edges of Vysaria’s cloak as she stepped onto the stone terrace where the dragons waited.

It had been a few days since their fight. They had not spoken beyond what was necessary. There had been no apologies, no acknowledgments, only space and silence.

The keepers worked around Vermithor, their voices hushed, their hands careful as they tightened the last of the straps. The great bronze beast shifted slightly, exhaling a slow breath that sent heat curling into the crisp morning air. His golden eyes flickered toward her as she approached, watchful but patient.

Across the terrace, Caraxes prowled. His long, serpentine body coiled with restless energy, his tail curling against the stone as he let out a sharp, guttural growl. The Blood Wyrm had always been temperamental, but today, he was more agitated than usual. Daemon stood beside him, adjusting the buckles on his gloves before securing the last strap along the saddle. He had been here when she arrived, waiting, his expression unreadable, his movements sharp and practiced. He did not look at her right away, but he spoke first.

"You took your time." His tone was even, but there was something clipped beneath it.

Vysaria pulled her gloves tighter around her fingers. "I had none to waste."

His mouth twitched, something close to a smirk, but it never fully formed. "And yet here we are."

Her eyes flicked toward him. "Are you ready?"

Daemon’s gaze met hers for a long moment. His grip flexed against the reins, but his face gave nothing away. "I have always been ready."

She let out a slow breath, then turned toward Vermithor. The keepers stepped back as she pulled herself into the saddle. She heard the faint rustle of leather as Daemon swung himself onto Caraxes behind her, his movements fluid, effortless. The morning light gleamed off Vermithor’s bronze scales as his wings stretched wide. Across from him, Caraxes let out a piercing cry, the sound ringing across the cliffs. The wind picked up, carrying the scent of fire and salt as the dragons shifted beneath them, their massive bodies tensed, eager for flight.

Without another word, the dragons leapt, and the sky swallowed them whole. The cold morning air rushed against Vysaria’s face as Vermithor’s powerful wings carried them higher, the wind tearing at her cloak, her hair whipping behind her. The world below shrank away, the black stone of Dragonstone fading into the vast stretch of sea. The steady rhythm of his flight settled into her bones, the rise and fall of his great body beneath her a familiar weight.

Beside them, Caraxes cut through the sky, his long, serpentine body twisting through the air with effortless grace. The Blood Wyrm moved like he was never quite content, shifting, adjusting, always seeking.

Vysaria let her eyes drift toward the horizon. This flight would be her last bit of freedom for a while. Soon, she would return to the Red Keep, to its stone walls, its watching eyes, its whispered plots. Soon, she would be in the presence of her father, Otto, Alicent, and the man she was meant to marry.

But up here, there was only the open sky, the wind rushing past her, the sun rising higher with each passing moment. The sea stretched endlessly beneath them, its rolling waves catching the morning light. The farther they flew, the closer King’s Landing loomed ahead, the Red Keep rising from the city like a fortress waiting to swallow her whole.

s Vermithor and Caraxes soared over the capital, heads turned, hands shielded eyes, and whispers filled the air with awe and speculation. The dragons circled once before descending toward the Keep’s courtyard. Below, the guards scrambled back, their hands tightening around the hilts of their swords as the dragons landed, the force of their descent scattering dust and gravel across the stones.

Vermithor folded his wings as he settled, his massive claws scraping against the courtyard floor. Caraxes hissed, coiling slightly before falling still.

Vysaria exhaled, loosening her grip on the reins.

The moment her boots touched the stone, the world around her sharpened into focus. The dust from the landing still lingered in the air, thick with the scent of dragons and disturbed earth. Servants and guards stood frozen, eyes darting between Vermithor and Caraxes, unsure whether to bow or flee.

At the center of the scene stood Viserys and Aemma.

Her father looked stunned, his mouth slightly parted, brow furrowed in disbelief as he stared at Vermithor. It was clear he was trying to reconcile the sight before him with whatever expectation he had held for her return. He must have imagined her coming back in quiet compliance, her exile over, her duty fulfilled. But instead, she had returned astride a dragon he likely feared would never accept her. Aemma’s expression was softer, though her gaze flickered between Vysaria and Viserys, as if waiting to see how he would react before allowing herself to show any relief.

Behind them, Otto and Alicent stood stiffly, their faces carefully composed. Otto’s gaze was assessing, his lips pressed into a thin line, but something calculating lurked in his expression. He had expected her back, but not like this. Alicent’s fingers twisted together at her waist, her shoulders tense, her face set in a polite, practiced mask, but her eyes told a different story. She looked relieved, hesitant, and something else entirely—something Vysaria did not have the patience to name.

Standing just behind them was a man she did not recognize, though she knew who he was before anyone spoke his name.

Tall and broad-shouldered, with the unmistakable auburn hair of House Hightower, his features were sharper than Otto’s, his green eyes cool but bright with curiosity. His expression was neither unkind nor expectant, merely watchful, as if taking her measure the same way she was taking his. He stood at ease but not without purpose, his weight balanced just so, the posture of a man trained for battle but carrying himself with the refinement of court. Gwayne Hightower. Her betrothed.

The thought settled heavy in her chest, but she forced her limbs to move, her spine straight as she stepped forward. Daemon fell into step behind her, his presence a steady weight at her back, his movements unhurried but pointed. He did not rush to her side, did not overshadow her, but he was there, a step behind, watching everything, waiting.

Vysaria kept her gaze forward as she approached her parents, her boots measured against the courtyard stone, her expression betraying nothing. When she finally stopped before them, she dipped her head in greeting, her voice calm, unwavering.

"Father. Mother."

Viserys blinked as if remembering himself. He glanced between her and Vermithor, still lingering in the courtyard like an unspoken challenge. When his eyes met hers again, there was something in them she could not quite name—something that flickered between pride, disbelief, and caution.

"You flew here," he said, as if the words barely made sense in his own mouth.

She lifted her chin slightly. "I did."

His lips parted like he might say more, but Aemma spoke first, stepping forward, her hands reaching for hers. "You look well," she said, and the warmth in her voice was genuine, though there was a searching quality to it, as if reassuring herself that Vysaria was truly standing before her.

Vysaria allowed her mother’s hands to clasp her own, the warmth grounding, familiar. "It is good to see you again."

Viserys exhaled sharply, his focus still locked on Vermithor, his mind clearly still struggling to catch up to what was in front of him.

"You did not send word," he muttered, shaking his head. His gaze flicked past her, landing on Daemon, whose smirk was barely concealed.

Daemon spread his hands slightly, his tone casual. "Surely the sight of two dragons was enough notice, brother."

Viserys’s eyes narrowed, though there was no real anger, only frustration and disbelief. He ran a hand down his face, exhaling through his nose before looking back to Vysaria.

She knew what he wanted to ask, why now, how, but instead, he only said, "I suppose we have much to discuss."

Behind him, Otto cleared his throat.

"If I may, Your Grace," he said, his voice smooth, measured, "this is a most momentous day. The princess’s return is an occasion worthy of acknowledgment, as is her triumph." His eyes flicked toward Vermithor, the calculation behind them sharp. "I am sure all of court will be eager to hear of it."

It was not a compliment. It was a statement of intent. A subtle reminder that every pair of eyes in King’s Landing would be watching her now, dissecting every step, every word, every breath.

She had been gone, and now she had returned in a way that no one could ignore. Viserys only hummed in response, nodding slowly before gesturing behind him.

"You have not yet met Ser Gwayne," he said.

Vysaria did not lookg immediately. She had felt Gwayne’s stare from the moment she landed, had known he was assessing her, that he was waiting to see if she would acknowledge him first.

When she finally turned, her gaze met his.

He inclined his head, his expression unreadable but his voice smooth. "Princess."

She studied him, the firm line of his jaw, the controlled ease in which he held himself, the way he did not falter under her scrutiny. He did not smile. He did not try to charm. He simply waited.

Vysaria inclined her head in return, her voice measured. "Ser Gwayne."

His lips pressed together for the briefest of moments, almost as if in approval, before he took a step back, folding his hands neatly behind him. She did not look at Daemon, though she felt his gaze burning into the side of her face. Viserys exhaled again, rubbing his temple before nodding toward the keep.

"Come," he said. "We have much to discuss."

Vysaria lifted her chin, taking one last glance at Vermithor, at the sky that had been hers for just a little while longer, before stepping forward, her mother’s presence at her side, her father leading the way.

The Red Keep loomed ahead, its walls familiar yet distant, the heavy gates yawning open in quiet welcome. The morning light stretched across the courtyard, glinting off polished armor and the sharpened steel of guards standing at attention. Beyond them, the great doors leading into the keep stood wide, the darkened halls within waiting to swallow her whole.

Viserys and Aemma stepped forward first, their pace steady, their presence commanding. The king’s shoulders were drawn back, though his steps still carried the lingering weight of his surprise. Aemma moved more gracefully, her head high, her hands lightly clasped in front of her. She did not look back to ensure Vysaria was following. She did not need to.

Vysaria moved next, her feet measured against the stone. Gwayne Hightower fell into step beside her.

He did not walk too quickly or too close, did not shift his weight too often or let his eyes linger where they should not. His movements were smooth, controlled, practiced. She had known many knights, many lords, many men who had spent their lives perfecting the careful dance of courtly presence. But Gwayne Hightower did not seem to be performing.

"You ride a magnificent beast, Princess," he said, his voice smooth, deep but not overbearing. "There are not many alive who can claim such a feat."

She kept her gaze forward, her posture unwavering. "No, there are not."

A flicker of amusement crossed his face at her short response, but if it disappointed him, he did not show it. He adjusted his gloves, his fingers briefly flexing before he spoke again. "I had not expected you to return by air. It was quite the sight."

Vysaria was not sure what she had expected from him—arrogance, entitlement, the quiet smugness of a man who had already won—but there was none of that in his tone. There was no flattery either, no empty courtly pleasantries meant to coax favor from her. Just observation, offered plainly, like a man stating the obvious. It should have been easy to dismiss him, to ignore the presence beside her and focus on the familiar walls of the Keep ahead.

But Gwayne Hightower was handsome.

Not in the golden, effortless way of his Lannister counterparts or the cold, sharp features of the Velaryons, but in the way that suited him. Auburn hair, strong jaw, sharp green eyes that missed nothing. He carried himself well, with the ease of someone who knew his own presence was noted, yet did not demand attention in the way lesser men might. He was not looking at her now, but she knew that he was aware of her, just as she was aware of him.

Vysaria drew in a steady breath. "You should not have expected anything less," she said finally.

This time, he smiled. It was not a smirk, not mocking, not even particularly pleased. Just small, knowing, as if something had settled in his mind about her.

"Of course not."

Behind them, Otto and Alicent followed in quiet step. Otto’s expression remained unreadable, but Vysaria could feel the weight of his attention. Alicent’s fingers fidgeted together at her waist, twisting nervously as her eyes flickered toward Vysaria with unspoken words on the tip of her tongue. She seemed to want to speak, but the words never came, her gaze shifting away just as quickly, her hand occasionally brushing against her father’s as if seeking comfort in his silent presence.

And behind them all, Daemon followed. His steps were slow, deliberate, his boots striking the stone in a steady rhythm. He had not rushed to her side, had not placed himself before her as he so often did when things turned political, when he felt the need to shield her from courtly scrutiny with his own brand of reckless defiance. But he was there. His presence loomed, even without a word.

The procession moved forward, the walls of the Red Keep drawing closer, the last of the open air behind them fading away. The scent of the Keep met her before they reached the doors—warm stone and burned candle wax, the faint trace of parchment and aged wood, the unmistakable smell of a place that had stood for centuries, bearing witness to every whispered plot, every spoken command, every betrayal, every oath. She had spent years in these halls, knew every turn, every shadow, every secret passage hidden within them. But stepping inside now, after weeks spent on Dragonstone, after finding her freedom in the open skies, felt different.

As they stepped through the gates and into the familiar halls of the Red Keep, the cool air of the castle pressed in around them, heavy with the scent of stone, burning candle wax, and the faintest trace of myrrh lingering from the previous night’s offerings. The warmth of the morning sun faded behind them, replaced by the dim glow of torches lining the corridors.

Aemma’s voice broke the quiet. "Come, my love," she said, touching Vysaria’s arm gently. "You should wash and change. There will be a dinner this evening with the Hightowers, and I doubt you wish to attend while still smelling of dragon."

Vysaria resisted the urge to sigh. She had spent nearly two months wrapped in the scent of smoke, salt, and dragonhide, and it had stopped bothering her long ago. But she knew what her mother was truly saying. The day was only just beginning, and there were expectations to meet. Viserys gave a small nod, still absorbing the sight of her standing before him, her presence heavier now with the weight of what she had returned on. He had yet to say anything more of Vermithor, but she knew he would. Otto remained silent beside him, his face carefully neutral, though she could see the wheels turning in his mind.

Gwayne Hightower dipped his head politely. "Until this evening, Princess."

His voice was even, his green eyes watchful. He was assessing her just as much as she was assessing him.

Vysaria returned a polite nod. "Until then, Ser Gwayne."

It was a formality, nothing more. The dinner itself would be a formality, though she understood the purpose. It was a display, a quiet show of unity between House Targaryen and House Hightower following the announcement of the betrothal.

A betrothal that had been decided long before she ever left for Dragonstone.

Aemma turned, guiding her toward the royal apartments with a quiet authority that did not invite argument. Vysaria let herself be led, casting one last glance over her shoulder. Daemon remained near the entrance of the Keep, watching her go, his posture relaxed but his gaze unwavering.

She did not know if she expected him to follow. She did not know if she wanted him to. She turned away and followed her mother deeper into the Keep.

The royal apartments had been left as she had last seen them, though the air within felt heavier, thicker, as if carrying the weight of her return. Servants had moved with quiet efficiency to prepare her chamber, fresh linens laid across the bed, a warm bath already drawn in the adjoining room. The water steamed, scented with crushed lavender and myrrh, the delicate oils swirling in lazy tendrils across the surface.

Vysaria stood at the edge of the bath, hands resting at her sides, her reflection caught in the tall mirror against the far wall. She had bathed quickly on Dragonstone when necessary, often scrubbing herself down with little patience before collapsing into bed, the scent of smoke and sea always clinging to her skin. But this was different.

This was courtly ritual, the slow, deliberate process of cleansing not just her body but her presence, her image, the lingering remnants of Dragonstone that did not belong within these walls. The servants helped her disrobe, their hands careful, their movements silent. She stepped into the bath and sank beneath the water, letting the heat press into her muscles, forcing the tension from her shoulders. Her hair floated around her, silver strands darkened in the water, drifting like silk against her skin.

Aemma stayed in the adjoining room, seated at the small vanity. Her reflection lingered in the mirror, her eyes following Vysaria in quiet contemplation. "I know this is not what you wanted," she murmured softly, her voice barely breaking the silence between them.

Vysaria closed her eyes, resting her head against the edge of the tub. "What I want does not matter."

Aemma’s fingers traced along the surface of the vanity. "No, it does not."

She said nothing else.

When Vysaria finally emerged, the servants wrapped her in warmed towels, the scent of lavender still clinging to her skin. They worked in quiet precision, tending to her hair, combing through the damp strands with oils of sandalwood and rose, the light floral scent weaving through the air.

Her gown had already been selected for her. Deep Targaryen red, trimmed in black velvet, the bodice embroidered with threads of gold, delicate dragons woven into the sleeves. The neckline sat wide across her collarbones, the fabric snug at her waist before flowing into soft, layered skirts that trailed elegantly behind her. It was a gown meant to remind, meant to command attention, meant to show exactly who she was.

The weight of it settled around her as the maids worked, fastening the clasps at her back, adjusting the way the fabric draped across her shoulders. The last touch was a thin golden chain resting along her throat, a single black pearl dangling at its center.

The dining hall was smaller than the grand feasting hall, meant for more intimate gatherings. Candles flickered along the long table, their flames casting golden light against the polished wood, reflecting off goblets of dark Dornish wine. The scent of roasted meats and spiced sauces filled the air, the low murmur of voices carrying as the table was set.

Vysaria sat beside Gwayne Hightower, just as expected. She had told herself that this would not bother her, that she would endure the dinner as she had endured every other political gathering in her life. But sitting beside him, close enough to catch the faintest trace of his cologne, close enough to feel the warmth of his presence, close enough to see the sharpness in his green eyes every time she glanced his way, was proving more unsettling than she had anticipated. He had not said much to her yet.

She was aware of Daemon, seated farther down the table, his presence unmistakable even without looking at him. She could feel his gaze flicker toward her every so often, though he had not spoken directly to her since they arrived.

Gwayne finally broke the silence between them, his voice even, measured, polite. "Have you had the chance to reacquaint yourself with the Keep?"

Vysaria took a slow sip of her wine before answering. "It is much the same as I left it."

"Some things do not change," he said, cutting into his meat with precise ease. "But others do."

She looked at him then, searching his expression for any hint of what he meant. Before she could speak, Otto’s voice carried across the table.

"It is good that you have returned in time for the final arrangements, Princess."

Vysaria stilled. Final arrangements.

She let the words settle, her fingers tightening slightly against the stem of her goblet before she carefully lifted it to her lips. She had known the wedding would happen. She had known her fate had been decided for her before she had even left Dragonstone.

The wine was rich and dark, clinging to her tongue with a sweetness that did nothing to mask the growing tension in her chest. The conversation carried on around her, polite, measured, carefully chosen words exchanged between her father and Otto as if this was nothing more than a formal gathering rather than the quiet cementing of her future.

Gwayne Hightower did not press her for conversation, did not look at her expectantly, did not shift uncomfortably in his seat like some men might in the presence of a woman they had been promised. He ate at an easy pace, his movements deliberate, his posture relaxed but never careless. She should have been grateful for that, should have been relieved that he was not attempting to charm her with empty flattery or bold remarks meant to test the waters of her temper. Instead, she felt something colder settle in her stomach.

She was trying not to notice him. Trying not to acknowledge the way the candlelight caught in the strands of his auburn hair, the way his sharp features had been softened slightly by the warmth of wine, the way he seemed content to sit beside her without pushing for her attention. He was quiet in a way that did not read as uncertainty, watchful without being overbearing, careful in a way that made her uneasy. She had expected arrogance, had prepared for it, had told herself she would meet it with resistance and keep herself distant. But Gwayne Hightower did not seem arrogant at all, and that made it harder to dismiss him outright.

Across the table, her father was speaking, his voice carrying just loud enough for all to hear. He was speaking of the wedding now, speaking of unity, of tradition, of the strength that came from the bonds between great houses. He spoke of duty, of alliances, of the future.

She barely heard him. Her mind was caught on Otto’s words from earlier. Final arrangements.

The finality of it sat in her chest, heavy, unmoving. She wanted to ask when, wanted to demand how soon, wanted to turn to her father and force him to say it outright rather than let it slip through polite conversation like an afterthought. She wanted to hear it from his lips, not from Otto’s.

Her mother’s voice cut through the droning pleasantries. "Surely there is no rush," Aemma said lightly, reaching for her goblet, though her eyes flickered to Vysaria before settling on Viserys. "Preparations of this scale require time."

Vysaria glanced at her mother, searching her face, looking for something beneath the surface of her carefully chosen words. Aemma had known of this match. She had known of it before Vysaria had left for Dragonstone, had likely been one of the few to caution Viserys against it, but she had not fought it. She had not spoken against it in any way that had truly mattered.

Viserys gave a soft hum, turning his goblet in his hands. "Time, yes, but not excess. There is no need for delay. The arrangements are already set, and the ceremony will be held before the month is out."

Vysaria’s fingers stilled against the stem of her goblet. Before the month is out.

The words rang in her head, louder than the hum of voices, louder than the faint sound of silver scraping against porcelain, louder than the distant howl of wind beyond the stone walls of the Keep.

She turned to her father slowly, her breath even, her voice quiet but deliberate. "That soon."

Viserys met her gaze, something flickering in his expression, something that looked like hesitation but faded too quickly to be real. "It is a good match," he said, as if that alone would be enough. "There is no reason to wait."

There was no anger in his voice, no cruelty, no force behind his words, only that quiet finality, that weight of expectation that had always been there. Her throat tightened. She had known. She had always known. But hearing it spoken so plainly, so decisively, left her feeling like the floor beneath her had shifted. She had time to react, but only just. She lifted her goblet again, hiding the brief moment it took to steady herself behind another slow sip of wine. When she set it down, her expression was unreadable. Gwayne Hightower had not turned to look at her, but she knew he had heard.

Alicent looked as if she might speak, but whatever words had formed on her lips never passed them. She kept her head bowed slightly, her hands resting delicately against her lap, her fingers lightly curled as if resisting the urge to reach for something that was not there. Otto looked pleased, though his expression barely shifted. 

She had known Daemon would be watching, had felt his presence from the moment they sat, but she had not turned to him, had not sought his reaction. She would not do so now. She did not need to. She could feel the tension radiating from him, could imagine the sharp way his jaw had set, could picture the slow, deliberate way he had likely turned his goblet in his hand, the way his fingers had likely curled against the stem. But he said nothing. No one did.

The conversation picked up again, drifting to other matters, other pleasantries, other words meant to fill the space that had been left in the wake of the announcement. Vysaria sat perfectly still, her breath measured, her expression carefully composed. She had learned long ago that there were moments in life where speaking changed nothing.

This was one of them.

The conversation around the table carried on, though Vysaria barely heard it. Her wine sat untouched now, her fingers resting lightly against the polished wood of the table, her posture measured, her expression carefully composed. The weight of her father’s words still settled in her chest, heavy and unmoving. She had expected to have time. Even if the betrothal had been set in stone before she left for Dragonstone, even if the wedding had been inevitable from the moment Viserys first entertained Otto’s suggestion, she had not expected to return only to find that it had already been planned down to its final details.

She glanced toward Gwayne, who had not so much as shifted at the announcement. If he was surprised by how soon the wedding would take place, he did not show it. He sat with the same steady presence as before, his movements controlled, his attention never too fixed on any one thing. She wondered if he had known. If Otto had told him before the dinner, or if he had simply assumed it would be sooner rather than later. The thought barely had time to settle before a voice broke through the hum of conversation.

"I told Gwayne about your riding," Alicent said suddenly, her voice light, pleasant, carefully placed into the conversation at just the right moment. "About how well you sit in the saddle."

The words landed with such ease that for a moment, Vysaria almost believed them to be innocent.

Her gaze flickered to Alicent, whose smile was warm, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes full of quiet expectation. There was intention behind this, a subtle attempt at drawing something out, at coaxing familiarity where there was none. It was carefully placed, a bridge meant to be walked across, the conversation steered toward her and Gwayne with the ease of a practiced hand.

Gwayne, to his credit, did not miss the shift in conversation. He set his goblet down, his focus shifting toward her, his tone smooth but absent of the cloying pleasantries she had come to expect from men trying to win her favor. "I would have guessed as much. From what I have heard, few can match you."

Vysaria reached for her goblet, taking a slow sip before responding. "I expect my skill in the saddle was the least surprising thing Alicent could have shared about me."

Alicent let out a small laugh, though there was something tight in the sound. "You should have seen her when we were younger," she continued, glancing toward Gwayne with a knowing smile. "She always preferred a horse to a hall."

Vysaria set her goblet down with deliberate care, tilting her head slightly as she met Alicent’s gaze. "And now I prefer a dragon to a horse," she said smoothly. "Though I suppose you wouldn’t know much about that."

Alicent’s smile tightened, her fingers tightening around the stem of her goblet before she forced herself to take another sip of wine. She recovered quickly, but not without a trace of tension.

Beside her, Gwayne let out a quiet breath, his expression unreadable, simply present and listening. He shifted, picking up his goblet again, offering an awkward, fleeting smile before quickly hiding it behind a sip. His posture remained relaxed, but there was a subtle unease in the way he carried himself, as if unsure of how to respond..

"Perhaps we can ride together soon. I may not have a dragon, but I do have a stallion who thinks he’s one," Gwayne said casually.

Vysaria’s fingers tapped lightly against the stem of her goblet, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Then I suppose he’s stubborn, reckless, and difficult to control.”

Gwayne’s lips quirked slightly. "Only when he doesn’t respect his rider."

Her gaze flickered toward him again, but he was focused on his plate, his knife gliding through the roasted boar before him. He spoke easily, without expectation, as if it didn’t matter whether she accepted his offer. Something about that irked her, more than she was willing to admit.

"Then I’m sure he’s well-trained," she said, her voice dripping with something more than polite curiosity.

Gwayne speared a piece of meat and met her eyes, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his gaze. "He is."

There was nothing challenging in the way he met her eyes, but he did not look away quickly either. He did not try to soften his presence with a well-placed jest, did not adjust his tone to coax her into a more pleasant conversation. He only watched her, his green eyes calm, sharp, quietly assessing.

For a moment, she wondered if Otto had coached him before this dinner. If he had been told to keep his tone easy, to let her bristle and not rise to meet it, to make no demands, no claims, no missteps that would turn her against him so soon. But the more she studied him, the more she doubted it.

Vysaria shifted her attention back to her plate, slicing into the soft bread beside her untouched meat. "We’ll see if your stallion can keep pace with my dragon."

Across from them, Alicent lifted her goblet, her smile still fixed in place, though the tension in her shoulders hadn’t fully eased. "I’d love to see that. It’s been too long since we last rode together, Vysaria."

Vysaria took a slow, deliberate sip from her goblet before setting it back down. "Some things are better left in the past."

Alicent’s fingers tightened around the delicate stem of her cup, her smile faltering just slightly. Gwayne exhaled through his nose, his gaze steady but unreadable. If he had picked up on the tension in their words, he gave no sign of it, his expression remaining neutral as he continued to eat.

From farther down the table, Otto’s voice carried through the hum of conversation.“I expect your time will be better spent on wedding preparations than on riding, Princess. The ceremony draws near, and there are still matters that require your attention.” 

Vysaria forced herself to remain still, though every instinct urged her to shift, to push back against the tightening noose of expectation. Otto had spoken so plainly, so decisively, as if her presence in this room alone had already sealed every last detail.

Viserys did not immediately meet her gaze, but when he did, his expression was already set. His lips pressed together in a way she knew well, a silent warning against protest. His hands remained on his goblet, his fingers drumming lightly against the polished silver before he lifted it to take a slow sip of wine.

"She has only just returned," Aemma said lightly, though there was something measured in her tone. "Surely she is allowed some time to reacquaint herself with the Keep before the preparations consume her."

Otto barely glanced at her. "Time is not a luxury that should be wasted. Every detail matters in a union such as this."

Vysaria turned her goblet slowly between her fingers, her voice calm, steady. "And yet, I have spent weeks away and somehow the world still spins without me. I am certain the final arrangements would continue with or without my input."

Otto’s lips pressed together, his shoulders drawing back ever so slightly. "The court will expect its princess to take her proper place in these decisions. It would be unseemly for you to arrive at the sept unaware of what awaits you."

Gwayne, still seated beside her, finally spoke, his voice even. "Let her breathe, Father. The princess may still find a moment for herself before duty takes her entirely."

Vysaria blinked, more at the ease of his tone than the words themselves. He had said it with no great emotion, no firm declaration, simply a reasonable thought placed in the space between Otto’s demands and her own silence.

Otto turned toward him, his expression unreadable. "There is little time for distractions, Gwayne."

Gwayne met his gaze easily, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly before he took a sip of wine. "And yet, a moment of ease never harmed a bride on the eve of her wedding."

Vysaria expected Otto to push back, to correct his son in that mild, dismissive way of his, but he did not. He only inclined his head slightly, as if making some note to himself before shifting his attention back toward Viserys. Gwayne settled comfortably back in his chair, his focus returning to his plate, as if he had never spoken at all. Vysaria did not thank him. She did not acknowledge his words or pretend as if they had eased anything. But she did notice him.

The conversation hummed around her, shifting between matters of court, trade, and idle pleasantries, but Vysaria barely registered it. She sat poised, her goblet in hand, her appetite all but forgotten. Every now and then, Gwayne spoke to her—not often, not intrusively, but enough to remind her that he was beside her, that this was real, that she was soon to be his.

And she was noticing him. She hated that she was. Across the table, Daemon was noticing too. He had not spoken to her all evening, but she had felt him. He had spent the meal watching, his goblet resting loosely in his fingers, his lips curled—not quite a smirk, not quite a scowl, but something quieter, something that waited.

Then, in the midst of a lull, when the conversation had settled just enough, Daemon moved. He lifted his goblet, slow and deliberate, and the shift in the room was immediate.

"To the bride-to-be," he said, his voice smooth, rich, carrying through the hall with an ease that immediately drew attention.

The table quieted. Vysaria’s fingers curled around the stem of her goblet, but she did not move.

Daemon’s violet gaze locked onto hers, sharp and knowing, his smirk curling at the edges. "To the one who left these halls a girl and returned a woman." His tone was too even, too casual, too deliberate. "To the long nights spent in great discovery. To the lessons learned in fire, in heat, in the dark. To the kind of knowledge that cannot be taught, only… shared."

Viserys choked on his wine. His goblet clattered against the table, the sound cutting through the silence as he coughed violently, red-faced, reaching blindly for a napkin while Aemma pressed a steady hand to his back. Across the table, Otto’s fingers stilled, his expression unreadable but tight, while Alicent’s knuckles whitened around her goblet, her eyes darting between Vysaria and Daemon, horrified.

Vysaria did not react. She could feel the shift in the room, feel the way every glance flickered toward her, toward Daemon, toward the space between them that had become something unspoken yet undeniable. But Daemon was not finished.

His goblet tilted slightly in her direction, his smirk deepening, his voice dipping just enough to make his meaning unmistakable. "And, of course," he mused, "to the groom." His gaze flicked toward Gwayne, deliberate, pointed, territorial. "May he come to know her as intimately as I do."

Viserys let out another strangled sound, something caught between a cough and a sharp inhale. Aemma’s patience wore thin as she turned to her husband, pressing a firm hand against his back. Otto’s jaw locked, his goblet untouched, his expression dark. Alicent looked as if she had stopped breathing entirely. And beside her, Gwayne only smiled.

It was small, composed, unreadable, not amused, not offended—just aware. He lifted his goblet with the same measured ease as before. "A worthy toast, Prince Daemon," he said, his voice smooth, untouched by the weight of the moment. "It seems I have much to look forward to."

Daemon’s smirk remained, but something in his grip tightened. "That you do."

Vysaria took a slow sip of wine, her pulse steady, her breath even. She had told herself she would loathe Gwayne Hightower. She was beginning to fear she would not. And Daemon had made it abundantly clear that he had noticed. The rest of the meal passed in strained conversation, though no one fully recovered from Daemon’s toast.

Viserys had barely touched his food after choking on his wine, his gaze flickering toward Vysaria and Daemon throughout the remainder of the dinner, his grip on his goblet just a little too tight. Aemma remained composed but watchful, her expression betraying little. Otto’s expression had not shifted much, but his silence spoke louder than any remark he might have made. Alicent hardly spoke again, her eyes lowered, her fingers twitching against the stem of her goblet as if resisting the urge to hold it any tighter.

Gwayne, for his part, had taken everything in stride. If he had been rattled, he had hidden it well, continuing to eat and converse where appropriate, offering no reaction to the lingering tension Daemon had carved into the evening. But Vysaria had felt the shift.

There was a new scrutiny now, a new weight pressing against her as she felt the quiet glances, the unspoken questions lurking behind polite smiles and measured tones. She knew what they were all thinking. They did not need to say it aloud.

When the meal finally concluded, Viserys rose first, his tone measured, formal, dismissive. "That will be all for tonight."

Servants moved swiftly, gathering plates, clearing goblets, preparing the space to be emptied. Otto cast a glance across the table toward Gwayne, his expression unreadable, but the weight of it unmistakable. Gwayne met his father’s gaze, holding it for a brief moment before giving the barest nod. Whatever passed between them was silent, but understood. Alicent hesitated as if she might linger, her gaze flickering toward Vysaria, but she said nothing. Instead, she rose, smoothing her skirts as she followed Otto toward the doors. Vysaria moved to stand, intending to leave as well, but Viserys spoke again.

"Vysaria. Daemon."

She stilled. His tone had shifted, the formality stripped from it, replaced with something far more pointed. Daemon barely moved, only lifting his goblet to take one final sip of wine before setting it down with a calculated ease. The last of the guests departed, leaving only the three of them in the dim glow of the dining hall. The doors shut behind them. Viserys let out a slow breath, his fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose before he turned toward them fully. His voice was low, strained, irritated.

"What the fuck was that?"

Viserys had barely finished speaking before he stepped forward, his face red with anger, his breath coming fast and uneven.

"Did you touch her?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy air between them.

Daemon let out a slow breath through his nose, shaking his head as if Viserys were being unreasonable. "Now, now. That’s hardly a question fit for a dinner table."

Viserys slammed his goblet onto the table, the wine sloshing over the sides. His hands curled into fists at his sides, his shoulders tense as his chest heaved with barely contained fury. Daemon only smiled. He moved with the ease of a man who did not see danger, a man who had never feared his brother’s wrath. With infuriating patience, he lifted his goblet and took one last sip of wine, savoring the moment before setting it down with deliberate care. Then, with slow, practiced ease, he reached up and clapped a hand on Viserys’ shoulder.

"Come now," he said, shaking his head as if Viserys were a child throwing a tantrum. "You’ve always been so dramatic."

Viserys reacted before Daemon could say another word. His hand struck Daemon’s arm, shoving it away so violently that the sound cracked through the chamber.

"Do not touch me."

Daemon laughed, full and rich, his body barely shifting from the blow. His amusement only grew as he watched Viserys struggle to compose himself. Vysaria did not move. Her pulse pounded in her ears, her hands curled into fists at her sides.

Viserys turned on her next, his anger sharp and unrelenting. "You have shamed yourself."

Vysaria lifted her chin. "I have done nothing you did not already ask of me."

His brows snapped together. "I did not ask you to spread your legs for my brother!"

The words struck her like a blow. Daemon’s laughter stopped.

Viserys’ chest heaved, his face still flushed with anger, his hands clenched at his sides. His words hung in the air, thick and heavy, echoing between them with the weight of judgment.

Vysaria forced herself to breathe. "No, you simply sent me away and expected me to sit quietly, waiting for you to decide what to do with me."

Viserys’ nostrils flared. "That is not—"

"You sent me to Dragonstone," she said, her voice rising slightly. "You told me to learn what it means to be a Targaryen, to reflect on my future, to find my place. And you are surprised that I learned from the only other person who has ever known what it means to be cast aside by you?"

Viserys’ hands slammed down onto the table. "You were meant to claim a dragon, not my brother’s bed."

"To be fair, it was not a bed we shared, but rather a sofa."

The silence that followed hung between them, but Vysaria’s lips twitched upward, a small smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. She didn’t immediately respond, but the slight amusement in her eyes was unmistakable. Her breath was steady, and the tension between them seemed almost playful, as if they both recognized the absurdity of the moment. Daemon’s lips curled in a similar, almost imperceptible smirk, his gaze flicking to hers before he remained silent. Neither of them seemed particularly bothered by the insinuation, almost as if the humor of it had become an unspoken understanding.

Viserys’ breaths were uneven, his body still brimming with anger. His hands, still braced against the table, were trembling slightly. His fury had not diminished, but something else had begun to seep through it. Disappointment.

She lifted her chin, keeping her voice smooth and controlled. "Then you should have been clearer with your expectations."

Viserys pressed his lips into a hard line, his eyes burning into hers. "Leave," he said, his voice taut with barely contained rage. "Both of you."

Daemon exhaled, shaking his head as he turned toward the door, muttering something under his breath that Vysaria could not hear. She held Viserys’ gaze for a moment longer, waiting to see if he would say something else. He didn’t. Without another word, she turned on her heel and followed Daemon out of the chamber, the heavy doors swinging shut behind them.

The walk back to her chambers felt longer than it should have. The halls of the Red Keep stretched ahead of her, familiar yet suffocating, the glow of torches flickering against the polished stone walls. The echoes of her footsteps filled the quiet, the weight of her father’s words still pressing against her ribs, unshaken.

She had expected his anger. She had expected his disappointment. But hearing the words aloud, spoken with such finality, had left something cold curling inside her. She was not ashamed. But she hated that he thought she should be.

Her chambers were unchanged since she had left them. The warmth of the bath drawn for her earlier had long faded, the scent of lavender and rose oil lingering faintly in the air. The servants had turned down the bed, the soft glow of candles casting shadows along the walls. The silence was welcome, but it did not bring peace. She pulled the pins from her hair, letting the strands fall loose around her shoulders, running her fingers through them absently as she unfastened the delicate clasps of her gown. The weight of the fabric slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet before she stepped away, reaching for the thin silk nightdress left at the foot of her bed.

She moved through the motions without thought, her limbs carrying her as if on instinct. She was exhausted, but sleep would not come easily. She was reaching for the small comb on her vanity when a soft knock echoed through the room. She turned, her brows knitting together slightly. It was late. Too late for visitors. She hesitated before moving toward the door, smoothing a hand over the thin fabric of her nightdress as she pulled it open.

Grand Maester Mellos stood in the dim corridor beyond, a small tray balanced in his hands. The soft glow of candlelight flickered against the delicate filigree of the ornate glass vial resting upon the silver tray. Deep amber liquid swirled within, its herbal scent unmistakable, curling into the air like something both medicinal and damning.

Moon tea. Vysaria’s fingers tightened against the edge of the door.

Mellos did not meet her eyes immediately, his gaze lowering slightly as he dipped his head in a gesture of quiet respect. "His Grace thought it best you have this, Princess."

Her pulse was steady. "Did he?"

The Maester lifted his head slightly. "It is only a precaution."

She did not move, did not reach for the tray, did not break her expression of calm.

A precaution. A carefully chosen word meant to disguise the deeper meaning beneath it. Her father had wasted no time.

Vysaria inhaled slowly, then stepped back just enough to allow Mellos to enter. He hesitated before stepping inside, setting the tray gently upon the small table near the hearth. The faint scent of the tea curled into the air, familiar in a way that made her stomach tighten. He did not linger.

With a final bow of his head, Mellos stepped back toward the door. "Good night, Princess."

She did not answer. The door clicked shut behind him. Vysaria stood in the quiet, staring at the tray, at the vial, at the deep amber liquid swirling behind the delicate filigree. The scent of it curled in the air, cloying and bitter, thick with meaning.

She reached for it slowly, her fingers curling around the cool metal, lifting it from the tray. The weight of it sat heavy in her palm, heavier still with the knowledge of what it meant.Her father wanted to be certain. She had never intended to drink it.

She turned toward the window, the cool night air brushing against her skin as she lifted the vial. The amber liquid caught the moonlight, swirling behind the delicate filigree, its scent curling in the air like something already fading. She pulled off the cap, tilting the vial over the stone ledge. The moon tea spilled in a slow, steady stream, vanishing into the darkness below.

When the last drop was gone, she set the empty vial back onto the tray, its delicate frame unbroken, its purpose fulfilled in the eyes of those who would find it. She turned away before the liquid had even finished soaking into the ground. 

There was nothing to question, nothing to undo. The choice was hers alone, and she had already made it.

next chapter

All roads lead to war. Read ahead on AO3 (Ch 1–22).

[igetis-number1simp]

Intro to Pagonioplo-Igetis, and the Rozital Specie in the Eternitydev Universe

(Character is not Mine. She belong to the Eternitydev Universe) We do not have a Reference sheet of her yet, only fanarts and old illustration we put together. Sadly the design you are seeing isn't canon, and her 'canon' design is just a disappointment in design and to her given lore. This is to introduce the Igetis that should've been, to VotV fans, newcomers and artists/creators. Click here to view the Rozital Lore Video The Eternitydev Wiki is sadly outdated. A separate wiki dedicated to the Rozital is own by me, though its not really developed and its a year old. Warning to those unaware of MrDrNose; Click here to see the document

Appearance:

A 2-meter-tall (6’7”) peacock-inspired humanoid, towering over most beings.

Plasma-screen face displaying glowing red digital eyes (she can show 2–6 eyes but usually sticks to 2).

Split beak that moves independently, sharp claws, and a metallic skeletal ribcage for a lower torso.

A massive red Raw Anperfysium gemstone embedded in her chest. She doesn't have wings; MrDrNose said her body is more "Universal". Personality & Behavior

Violent & Short-Tempered: She’s aggressive by default, quick to temper, and fowl mouth, and has zero patience for incompetence.

Loyalty to Diefthyntis: The only time she is calm is being around Diefthyntis, her creator, to not make herself look bad to him.

Duty Above All: She patrols the Panacea PAP station, acting as a high ranking leader among other Rozitals. She executes intruders, reports malfunctions and issues, and all sorts of tasks. Egotistical and likes Attention. She can be envious, especially those who gets compliments from Diefthyntis. Igetis acts as a supervisor and leader.

Abilities & Arsenal She possess an Arsenal of weapons. Such as a laser rifle, and two laser pistols (handcanon)

Energy Shield: Can discharge concentrated bursts to vaporize targets.

Night Vision and X-Ray visions (Headcanon).

The Rozital Specie

Rozitals are a race of ancient, mechanical lifeforms made of Anperfysium (an indestructible, supernatural-repelling metal) animated by sentient Life Crystals (The Actual Rozital). They are not robots, not A.I., and definitely not programmed. They think and feel. Known members of the Rozital Species Diefthyntis - First Rozital to exist, built the whole Rozital Race many eons ago. Brilliant and wise, acting as the father figure for Igetis. Kavotias – Three-legged infantry.

Soltomias – Tentacled, screen-faced scouts with the habit of cleaning other Rozitals.

Perpaoulkon – Larger, tankier Rozitals with energy cannons and hover abilities.

Arachela – Spider Rozitals with glowing crystal heads.

Freek-a-del’ka – The ONLY corrupted Rozital, a flesh-amassing horror locked away.

The Life Crystals

Life Crystals are sentient crystals that are formed by Quantum Energy (or artificially formed by purified panacea). These Crystals are living beings that are capable of possessing any objects (e.g., skeletons and fossils and rocks).

Follow my Blog! I'm planning on making a separate discord server for Rozital fans <3

Different arts of Pagonioplo-Igetis

[genshin-impact-updates]

"Two Worlds Aflame, the Crimson Night Fades" Version 4.6 Update Details

Dear Travelers,

Below are the details of the Version 4.6 update "Two Worlds Aflame, the Crimson Night Fades" and the update compensation.

〓Compensation Details〓

Maintenance Compensation: Primogems ×300 (60 Primogems per hour the servers are down)

Issue Fix Compensation: Primogems ×300 (please refer to the relevant compensation mail for more details)

〓Scope of Compensation〓

Maintenance Compensation: Travelers who have reached Adventure Rank 5 or above by 2024/04/24 06:00 (UTC+8).

Compensation must be claimed before the end of Version 4.6.

Issue Fix Compensation: Travelers who reach Adventure Rank 5 or above by 2024/04/24 06:00 (UTC+8).

Please log in and claim your compensation before 2024/04/27 06:00 (UTC+8).

Our developers will distribute compensation to Travelers via in-game mail within 5 hours after the update maintenance is finished. The mail will expire after 30 days, so don't forget to claim the attached compensation in time.

〓Update Schedule〓

Update maintenance begins 2024/04/24 06:00 (UTC+8) and is estimated to take 5 hours.

〓How to Update Game Client〓

PC: Close the game, open the Genshin Impact Launcher, and click Update.

iOS: Open the App Store and tap Update.

Android: Open the game and follow the directions on-screen.

PS5™ and PS4™: Highlight Genshin Impact from the Home Screen, press the OPTIONS button and select "Check for Update."

Please do not hesitate to contact Customer Service if you encounter any issues installing the new version. We will do our very best to resolve the issue.

〓Update Details〓

I. New Areas

New Areas Now Available

◇ In Version 4.6, the following areas in Fontaine will become available: Nostoi Region and Sea of Bygone Eras.

※ As long as you have completed Archon Quest Prologue: Act III "Song of the Dragon and Freedom," a Teleport Waypoint will be automatically unlocked near Fontaine's Petrichor (If you have already completed this Archon Quest, the Teleport Waypoint will be unlocked after the update). You'll also receive the Primogem reward for this Teleport Waypoint when it unlocks automatically.

There will be new Fishing Points and "Radiant Spincrystals" in Fontaine.

In addition, the new area "Bayda Harbor" will be added to Lokapala Jungle in Sumeru.

II. New Character

5-Star Character "Dire Balemoon" Arlecchino (Pyro)

◇ Vision: Pyro

◇ Weapon: Polearm

◇ "The Knave," Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers. A poised, ruthless diplomat. To the children in the House of the Hearth, she is their feared yet dependable "Father."

◆ Arlecchino can utilize her Bond of Life to enhance her Normal, Charged, and Plunging Attacks, dealing Pyro DMG.

◆ Elemental Skill "All Is Ash"

◆ Deals Pyro DMG to multiple nearby opponents and applies Blood-Debt Directives to them. Blood-Debt Directives deal Pyro DMG to opponents at regular intervals. When Arlecchino uses a Charged Attack or her Elemental Burst "Balemoon Rising," she will absorb Blood-Debt Directives, which grants her a certain amount of Bond of Life.

◆ Elemental Burst "Balemoon Rising"

◆ Arlecchino's great wing of Balemoon Bloodfire beats as she absorbs and clears Blood-Debt Directives applied to opponents around her. She deals AoE Pyro DMG before clearing the CD of All Is Ash and healing herself. The healing is based on her Bond of Life value and ATK.

III. New Equipment

1. New Weapon (Examples based on Refinement Rank 1)

Crimson Moon's Semblance (5-Star Polearm)

Grants a Bond of Life equal to 25% of Max HP when a Charged Attack hits an opponent. This effect can be triggered up to once every 14s. In addition, when the equipping character has a Bond of Life, they gain a 12% DMG Bonus; if the value of the Bond of Life is greater than or equal to 30% of Max HP, then gain an additional 24% DMG Bonus.

◆ During the event wish "Epitome Invocation," the event-exclusive 5-star weapon Crimson Moon's Semblance (Polearm) will receive a huge drop-rate boost!

2. New Artifact Sets

Unfinished Reverie (4-Star and 5-Star)

◇ 2-Piece Set: ATK +18%.

◇ 4-Piece Set: After leaving combat for 3s, DMG dealt increased by 50%. In combat, if no Burning opponents are nearby for more than 6s, this DMG Bonus will decrease by 10% per second until it reaches 0%. When a Burning opponent exists, it will increase by 10% instead until it reaches 50%. This effect still triggers if the equipping character is off-field.

Fragment of Harmonic Whimsy (4-Star and 5-Star)

◇ 2-Piece Set: ATK +18%.

◇ 4-Piece Set: When the value of a Bond of Life increases or decreases, this character deals 18% increased DMG for 6s. Max 3 stacks.

IV. New Domain

Domain of Blessing: Faded Theater

◇ Under the direction of an immortal musician, a certain ancient troupe once performed the elegies of an ancient civilization. With the passage of time, the ancient plays became legend. Legend became myth. ...Until one day, by chance, it was deliberately picked up once more, and became the prelude to a new dream.

◇ Unlock Criteria (satisfy any one of the criteria below to unlock):

• Reach Adventure Rank 22 or above

• Complete Archon Quest Prologue: Act III "Song of the Dragon and Freedom"

◆ Challenge the Domain to obtain artifacts in the "Fragment of Harmonic Whimsy" and "Unfinished Reverie" sets.

V. New Main Story

1. New Story Quests

Arlecchino's Story Quest - Ignis Purgatorius Chapter: Act I "When the Hearth-Flame Goes Out"

Permanently available after the Version 4.6 update

◆ Quest Unlock Criteria:

• Reach Adventure Rank 40 or above

• Complete Archon Quest Chapter IV: Act V "Masquerade of the Guilty"

Cyno's Story Quest - Lupus Aureus Chapter: Act II "Oathkeeper"

Permanently available after 2024/05/14 18:00

◆ Quest Unlock Criteria:

• Reach Adventure Rank 40 or above

• Complete Archon Quest Chapter III: Act V "Akasha Pulses, the Kalpa Flame Rises"

• Complete Cyno's Story Quest - Lupus Aureus Chapter: Act I "Sands of Solitude"

2. New World Quests

New World Quests

"Canticles of Harmony" Quest Chain, "For Yesterday and Tomorrow," "Latecoming Homecoming," "Where His Life Lies," "Daydreams Beyond Space and Time," etc.

VI. New Enemies

"The Knave"

◇ Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers.

The Knave will apply Bonds of Life to characters. After clearing a Bond of Life, characters in your party will unleash a Scarlet Nighttide the next time one of their Charged Attacks hit The Knave. This attack can interrupt some of The Knave's attacks, including Bloodtide Banquet. Some of The Knave's attacks will consume her own HP, and when these attacks hit a character, they will restore her own HP and apply a Bond of Life to the character; if the character hit already has a Bond of Life, the DMG dealt by the attack will be increased yet more.

Located in the Liffey Region

Legatus Golem

◇ This ancient Legatus Golem uses its sturdy marble body to defend against attack while using music and searing flames to obliterate its foes.

Use methods suited to dealing with Geo to break through its defenses. Apart from this, it will also set up resonators in combat that will assist its attacks. Destroy these resonators to deplete its shielding effectively.

Located in the Nostoi Region

Praetorian Golem

◇ An ancient golem infused with will that uses its resilient marble body in battle.

Use methods suited to dealing with Geo to effectively defeat its defenses.

New Recipe:

○ Café Lutece, Fontaine: Bulle Souffle

New Character Specialty Dish:

○ Arlecchino's specialty: "Hearthfire's Trail"

Adds new "Rhapsodia in the Ancient Sea" and "Challenger: Series IX" Achievement categories, and adds new Achievements to the "Wonders of the World" category.

Adds Set 31 of "Paimon's Paintings" chat emojis.

Adds some prompts for loading screens.

New Namecards:

"Arlecchino: Edict": Reward for reaching Friendship Lv. 10 with Arlecchino

"Fontaine: Attunement": Reward for completing all achievements under "Rhapsodia in the Ancient Sea"

"Achievement: Whalewrangler": Reward for completing all achievements under "Challenger: Series IX"

"Fontaine: Lucine": Reward for reaching Fountain of Lucine Favor Level 48

"Travel Notes: The Realms Rocked": Reward obtained via the BP system

Adds 17 World Quest-related avatars that will be unlocked after completing World Quests in accordance with the corresponding unlock criteria (Refer to "Paimon Menu > Change Avatar" in-game for the specific unlock criteria. For Travelers who have already completed the corresponding World Quests before the version update, the corresponding avatars will be automatically unlocked after the version update.)

Fountain of Lucine: Increase in the Level Cap of Fountain of Lucine to Level 50. After the Fountain of Lucine reaches its maximum level, Hydro Sigils can be exchanged with Mequignon at Bertin's House of Curiosities.

Adds the "Focused Experience Mode" function:

(1) This function can be enabled for certain quests in the "Quest" menu. Once enabled, Travelers can prevent locations and characters involved in said quest from being occupied by other quests, which improves the experience of the current quest.

(2) Function Access Unlock Criteria: Complete Archon Quest Prologue: Act III "Song of the Dragon and Freedom"

(3) In Version 4.6, the "Focused Experience Mode" function will be available for Arlecchino's Story Quest - Ignis Purgatorius Chapter: Act I "When the Hearth-Flame Goes Out." The "Focused Experience Mode" function will gradually be made available for more quests in subsequent versions.

"Genius Invokation TCG" Gameplay Update:

New Character Cards: Kuki Shinobu, Faruzan, and their corresponding Talent cards. Corresponding invitation duels and guest challenges have been added to the Player List.

New Character Cards: Emperor of Fire and Iron, Abyss Herald: Wicked Torrents, and the corresponding Talent Cards. The Tavern Challenge has also been added.

New Action Cards: "Rightful Reward," "Amethyst Crown," "Taroumaru," "The White Glove and the Fisherman," "Seirai Island," "Rainbow Macarons," and "Underwater Treasure Hunt" can be purchased from Prince at The Cat's Tail.

The Forge Realm's Temper is once again available. The theme of this edition is "The Forge Realm's Temper: Game of Wits":

(1) During The Forge Realm's Temper: Game of Wits, some stages will have special victory and defeat conditions. Adeptly adapt your tactics to complete the challenge and avoid the conditions for defeat!

(2) Within The Forge Realm's Temper: Game of Wits event stages, there will also be special rules that can easily exert influence on the tempo of the match. Fully utilizing these special rules will contribute greatly to your success.

Spiral Abyss

Floor 11 Ley Line Disorder changed to:

• All party members receive a 75% Pyro DMG Bonus.

Updated the monster lineup on Floors 11 – 12 of the Spiral Abyss.

Starting from the first time that the Lunar Phase refreshes after updating to Version 4.6, the three Lunar Phases will be as follows:

Phase I:

Flame-Fanning Moon

When a character triggers Vaporize, Overloaded, Melt, Burning, Burgeon, Pyro Swirl, or Pyro Crystallize reactions on an opponent, the opponent's All Elemental RES and Physical RES is reduced by 30% for 4s.

Phase II:

Valorous Moon

When a character receives healing, the character's ATK increases by 50% for 3s.

Phase III:

Tactical Moon

When a character's HP value increases or decreases, that character gains a 16% increased All Elemental and Physical DMG Bonus for 8s. This effect can stack up to 3 times, and the duration of each stack is counted independently.

〓Adjustments & Optimizations〓

● Exploration

On the Tutorials screen, adventure tutorials related to the current area will be displayed nearer to the top.

Optimizes the performance of the Treasure Compass feature: Nearby treasure chests will now be marked on the map after using the Treasure Compass, and opening treasure chests marked out on the map during the Treasure Compass's cooldown time will reset its cooldown.

● Map

Combines the "Domains only" and "Search for Players" options under the "Map Settings" button on the map interface.

Adds the "Custom Markers," "Controller > Cursor Sensitivity," and "Controller > Marker Sensitivity Range" settings under the "Map Settings" button on the map interface.

Optimizes the design of the buttons for switching between different regions on the map interface.

● Quests

Adds another button for important quest items related to certain quests in the Quest Menu.

When you are navigating to a quest objective, an icon for important quest items related to the current quest will now be displayed within the Inventory.

Updates the icon for Requests in the Quest Menu.

● Adventurer Handbook

Adjusts the criteria for unlocking different chapters in "Adventurer Handbook > Experience": Simply reach a certain Adventure Rank to unlock the next chapter. You no longer need to complete the previous chapter.

Adds missions for enhancing Prototype Rancour and Favonius Warbow to Lv. 60 in "Adventurer Handbook > Embattle."

Adds missions related to enhancing Artifacts in "Adventurer Handbook > Embattle."

● Serenitea Pot

Adds the "Quick Obtain" function on the Replica > Preview screen as well as the Furnishing Set screen in Editing Mode: You can use this function to quickly purchase the Furnishings/Furnishing Blueprints that you need from the Realm Depot, or add the Furnishings that need to be created to the "Queued List."

Adds the "Queued List" function on the Create Furnishing > Creation Queue screen. This will record your Furnishing creation requests from using "Quick Obtain" and tell you which materials they require. It can also be used to quickly add Furnishings that are waiting to be made to the Creation Queue.

Adds the "Obtain All" function on the Create Furnishing > Creation Queue screen. You can use this function to obtain all the Furnishings created in one go. After you click it, you can also choose to use Vials of Adeptal Speed to speed up production of all Furnishings that haven't been completed yet with a single click.

Adjusts the upper limit of the Creation Queue in Create Furnishing from 5 to 10.

Adds Filter and Search functions to the Furnishings and Furnishing Blueprints tabs of the Realm Depot.

Displays category-related information in the text descriptions for Furnishings and Furnishing Blueprints.

Optimizes the layout of the Realm Music screen, adding serial numbers and no longer showing a second confirmation pop-up when unlocking tracks.

After Trust Rank reaches Level 10, the purchase limit of all products in Realm Depot > Furnishings (except Vial of Adeptal Speed) will be raised from 6 to 20.

Furnishings and Furnishing Blueprints introduced from Version 1.5 to 2.8 will be permanently sold at a discount in the Realm Depot.

● Genius Invokation TCG

Updates the icon of the Event Card "Falls and Fortune."

Optimizes the text description for the Normal Attack of the Character Card "Neuvillette" (the actual effect remains the same).

● Other

Optimizes the "compiling shaders" loading time when logging in on an Android device for the first time after version update.

Adds support for displaying friend nicknames on the Serenitea Pot > Create Furnishing > Guest Assistance screen, as well as on various screens related to Co-Op Mode.

Adjusts the position of the stone pillars on Floors 11 and 12 of the Spiral Abyss: Now, the stone pillars will be placed outside the barrier.

After the version update, on some PC devices that use integrated graphics cards, the default "Graphics > Graphics Quality" setting will be adjusted to "Lowest" (only the correspondence between the options and the default values is changed, the actual settings remain unchanged).

Due to the addition of new regions and Teleport Waypoints, the number of Teleport Waypoints required to unlock the achievement "Forest Roamer" has been adjusted. The original total number of Teleport Waypoints that needed to be unlocked was 46, and this has now been adjusted to 47 (if the achievement has been completed, the completion status of the achievement remains unchanged).

Increases the Inventory's capacity for the Weapon Enhancement Materials "Mystic Enhancement Ore," "Fine Enhancement Ore," and "Enhancement Ore" from 9,999 to 99,999.

〓Genius Invokation TCG Balance Adjustment〓

Adjusts the effect of the status "Fiery Rebirth" of the Character Card "Abyss Lector: Fathomless Flames": "When the character to which this is attached would be defeated: Remove this effect, ensure the character will not be defeated, and heal them to 4 HP. After this effect is triggered, this character deals +1 Pyro DMG."

Adjusts the effect of "Aegis of Abyssal Flame" applied by the Talent Card "Embers Rekindled" of the Character Card "Abyss Lector: Fathomless Flames": "Provide 2 Shield points to the character to which this card is attached. After said Shield points are depleted: Deal 1 Piercing DMG to all opposing characters."

Adjusts the casting logic of the Elemental Skills of the Character Cards "Candace" and "Beidou": After the adjustment, the character that cast the Elemental Skill gains a shield and then prepares the skill (i.e. generating the shield and preparing the skill are split into two separate actions, so that if the shield is removed by certain effects, this will not result in the skill's preparation being canceled too).

Adjusts the effect of the Support Card "Yayoi Nanatsuki": "For each of your characters already equipped with an Artifact on the field, you spend 1 less Elemental Die (once per Round)." has been adjusted to "If two of your characters on the field already have an equipped Artifact, you additionally spend 1 less Elemental Die (once per Round)."

Adjusts the trigger condition for the effect of the Support Card "Seed Dispensary": The trigger condition "When you play an Equipment or Support Card with an original cost of 1 Elemental Die: ..." has been adjusted to "When you play a Support Card with an original cost of at least 2 Elemental Dice: ..."

Adjusts the number of Elemental Dice required and effect of the Support Card "Jeht": The Elemental Dice cost required has been adjusted from 2 Dice of any element to 1. The effect "If this card has recorded at least 5 Sophistication points, discard this card and generate Omni Element equal to the number of Sophistication points minus 2." has been adjusted to "If this card has recorded at least 6 Sophistication points, discard this card and attach Sand and Dreams to your active character." (The effect of "Sand and Dreams" is: "When you play a Talent card or a Character uses a Skill: Spend 3 less Elemental Dice.")

Note: The effect of the Event Card "Nature and Wisdom" will not result in the deck being shuffled. All "draw a random card of any certain type from your deck" effects will also not result in the deck being shuffled, but instead will result in 1 random card of the corresponding type being drawn and added to your hand.

〓Bug Fixes〓

● Character

Fixes an issue whereby, when certain Polearm-wielding characters performed Plunging Attacks, the position of the attack's special effect would be abnormal in certain situations (the actual DMG AoE works as intended).

Fixes an issue whereby after Xianyun's second Constellation was unlocked, the special effect on the tails of her outfit would abnormally disappear under certain circumstances.

● System

Fixes an issue whereby there were errors with certain key names on the Settings > Key Bindings screen when playing on a PC in German or French.

Fixes an issue whereby, after switching a character's outfit from the "Party Setup" menu, the corresponding character could not be switched to and deployed in certain situations.

Fixes an issue whereby, when challenging the Millennial Pearl Seahorse, the game camera couldn't be restored to the original angle after zooming out in certain situations.

● Genius Invokation TCG

Fixes an issue whereby when "Fontemer Pearl" was attached to the Character Card "Millennial Pearl Seahorse," casting its Elemental Skill would abnormally reset the Fontemer Pearl's once-per-round effect ("Usage(s) will not be used when negating DMG from Summons").

● Audio

Fixes an issue whereby there was a chance that the effect of Freminet's skill voice line would be abnormal in certain situations.

Fixes an issue whereby, when Chiori used her Elemental Skill to enter combat, there was a chance that the Elemental Skill sound effect would be abnormal.

● Other

Fixes an issue whereby there was a small probability that the model of the currently controlled character would disappear abnormally under certain circumstances when playing through Lynette's Hangout Event on mobile devices.

Fixes an issue whereby if a character unequipped and then re-equipped the weapon "Amenoma Kageuchi," after triggering the weapon's effect to obtain Succession Seeds, Succession Seeds' duration would be abnormal under certain circumstances.

Fixes an issue whereby some buildings in Mondstadt were overlapping abnormally, which was preventing characters from climbing upwards.

Fixes some text errors in certain languages and optimizes text. (Note: Related in-game functions have not changed. Travelers can view the changes in different languages by going to the Paimon Menu > Settings > Language and changing the Game Language.)

Text-related fixes and optimizations in English include:

◆ Optimizes certain English translations.

*This is a work of fiction and is not related to any actual people, events, groups, or organizations.

"PlayStation", "PS5", "PS4", "DualSense", "DUALSHOCK" are registered trademarks or trademarks of Sony Interactive Entertainment Inc.

[welcome-to-headcanons]

YAYYYYYY NEW BLOG TO BECOME THE CHARACTER ANON TO

hello i am sock anon and here are some of my headcanons

sock has a tooth gap and little fangs, jonathan has braces, and meph has big fangs (kind of like one person drew in the discord server)

Jonathan would listen to MSI RELIGIOUSLY. also sock knows all tha words to material girl by madonna.

jonathan's father is dead. he was a pretty chill fella, he cared a lot for Jonathan but he died of a heart attack when Jon was like 6 or 7. he went to heaven c:

dadstopheles, one day sock called him dad by accident and he never ever ever recovered. he had to take 10 minutes away from work directly afterwards.

sock's love languages are gift giving and physical affection, neither of which he can do reliably for Jonathan. (if you were wondering, Jon's is quality time and words of affection)

jojo died because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. sock had killed a neighbor's pet, and she happened to be there when the neighbor opened fire in anger. the neighbor is in prison, and sock never forgave himself.

sock's movie tastes are either wreck it ralph or terrifier 3. no in between.

sock grew up in texas, not in the buttfuck of texas but in one of those more accepting nicer towns. obviously this show takes place in a fictional world, because if this were real he would have been dead way earlier for the crime of wearing a skirt.

Jonathan's diet consists of sandwiches and Lay's classic chips, as well as various sodas. And whatever his mom cooks, of course.

sock really loved his parents. he cried for 20 long minutes when he woke up.

Sock's nails are painted always. He usually chooses pastel rainbows. Jonathan's nails are black and he gets called slurs for it in school.

Jonathan is more likely to give the silent treatment.

Mephistopheles will often let Sock hang out in his office while he does work since Sock doesn't really disturb him much. One time Sock fell asleep there.

Providence is slightly irritated that everyone calls her a man all the time. Only slightly. She's more irritated at the way people use her to defend misogyny and such.

Lill would listen to Cool Kids by Echosmith SO MUCH.

Mephistopheles had wings a long time ago. He gets phantom pains often.

I'm a subscriber to the Jojo-Jonathan parallel theory.

sock partially regrets killing himself.

sock often asks mephistopheles what his life would have been like if he kept living. mephistopheles doesn't have an answer for him.

thats all i got!! :D like and subscribe, also guys please make more dadstopheles content im starving STARVING

- sock anon 🔪

Ahhh so many amazing hcs

[neonmetro]

You should totally make a WHOLE ask dedicated to AU ulys. . .totally asking for a friend. . .hehe. totally

-Ulysses loving anon

yesss.... YESSSS (SICKOS) GO MY ULY AUS

there are multiple aus as you are familiar... but i'll mainly talk about cain, o&n, and lcb (yay!) since they're the ones i've written the most about

CAIN ULY !! brief overview, he was On Track for achieving the american dream, good job, finally raising a family, before he got involved with a sin and managed to run away, though with his son and wife both turned into sins, uly having bound to telemachus, or rather the fleshy, one eyed amalgamation, "polyphemus"

he was involved with the hunt "Where a Judge Must Remain Impartial" (dm'd by @soundofastar :), a lore hunt for nephel warhol) where he was . um kind of impeding every single part of the hunt, but he did end up help the group talk to a 15 year old nephel to help kill her mom who was the sin host with polyphemus :)

there was also a valentines oneshot where nephel and another friend's character, harvey, were doing training for how to act during hunts where he had a cameo where he was a landlord of the sin host and just had the most deadpan voice the entire time. he was trying his best but you know how old men are... nephel and harvey were interrogating him for information and when nephel said she recognized him he was adamant on keeping character. he also was entirely avoidant before he sic'd security on them, putting through a battle. then harvey threatened ulysses by kicking a chair REALLY HARD and scaring him off, making him run away.

this is the first time nephel met ulysses again after 15 years btw like this is their reunion. but they did have a nice moment as he was running away and when they were trading candy...

I DO WANT TO ONE DAY DO A LORE HUNT FOR HIM sighs dreamily

NEXT UP!!! O&N ULY!!!!!! he's a trojan virus turned denizen ai, trained off of the memories of director odysseus of project paradiso (owned/played by @inkwell-passion) as a prank and to slander odysseus' name

uly fully thought for a long while that odysseus' wife penelope loved uly more than ody because his memories and code tell him the time he spent with his penelope was actually odysseus' penelope (not confusing. whatsoever)

he has some insane abandonment and obsession issues, he spends most of his time in his servers creating 3D simulations of his loved ones to create memories he Does Not Have. and will in fact latch onto any woman that shows him a modicum of affection and they will become his new obsession but will still call you penelope

he's also being tormented by every imaginable higher sentient being than he is and he does not catch a fucking break EVER

LCB ULYSSES!! he's a miserable piece of shit that does almost nothing but get drunk on the bus and makes other people hate him (except not entirely true. he does genuinely try helping out with chores/maintenance on the bus

he is a human dough clone of outis limbus company, he's from an entirely different mirror world than canon lcb and was brought into this world to prove that lcb had the same technology as a wing.

he was specifically chosen because outis was the 2nd strongest out of all the sinners without being a literal bloodfiend, and it was a good choice overall to have another workshop expert without actually needing to pay him (he's here because he's forced to, not because he wants to work here)

i also really want to have this weird codependent flesh relationship with outis but i haven't quite figured it out... but its freaky.

he has a really bad tendency to project his ex onto any current partners and that usually destroys their relationship but the thing is he doesn't mind being a stand in for someone else as long as it allows them to both pretend they're with someone better

fatherhood is even worse . he was supposed to be a father, then he got transported to this evil fucked up mirror world and now he can't even dream of seeing his wife or son his identity is pretty much annihilated in one fell swoop, learning there isn't just One version of him, and learning in this world, he isn't even the original

he has always had an inflated ego but the whole mirror world human dough debacle has made it 5000x worse and he's now pretending he has a god complex to try and feel normal with the latter i think he feels its just Better if they don't like him so they don't interact with him and this whole situation won't feel real and he won't have any qualms about leaving everyone behind at a drop of a dime. HE HAS A HEART OF GOLD BUT IN THE WAY GOLD IS MALLEABLE AND WILL CRUMBLE IF YOU STRIKE IT HARD ENOUGH

and honestly the best part of lcb uly is that i canonically can have an excuse to dress him up in so many outfits and egos because he is literally exactly like outis and will have the same ids as her