#they better keep her out of the shadow realm

[kiame-sama]

Would Papa Hades mind if I rant to him my frustration over how people always make him a ‘Bad Guy’ in our world?

Whenever Movies that have Greek Mythology in it, it always pissed me off when they make Hades the Villain (I feel like it’s just because Hades is the God of the Underworld that automatically makes him ‘Evil’)

Literally out of ALL the Greek Gods, Hades is actually the NICEST of the Gods (He was willing to let a mortal man take his wife out of the Underworld but he must not look at her because she’ll be sent back during the journey until they leave his realm) and was never unfaithful to his beloved Persephone

There was a myth that he had ONE lover, but that was BEFORE he met his Beloved

Would Papa Hades appreciate that I don’t see him as evil just because he rules over the Underworld? (Because since he’s one of the Great Seven so he’ll naturally be feared for his powers and authority)

Warnings: Papa Hades in his 50ft form, comforting ancient Shinigami, daily allotted sunshine/shade garden time,

For reference, this is approximately the current height difference:

~~~~~~~~

"-but I mean, why do they always have to make Hades out to be bad? I don't think my Hades is bad and I don't think you're bad either. You're probably the only one I've met in this world who didn't immediately try to make decisions for me. You haven't collared me, or taken me away from where I want to be, or tried to control me in any way. You're even letting me sit on your shoulder and talk your ear off in the garden because I wanted some time away from it all!"

The giant Shinigami was leaning his cheek on his hand, listening attentively to your every word. You both were seated upon a shadowy throne he had summoned in the stone and briar garden of Ramshackle. It was a good distance away from the building itself and no one was willing to tell the Shinigami he couldn't protect you.

Deep in the shadows, watchful eyes thought better of challenging a being of myth and power. Some were dissuaded from the prospect altogether, seeing such an ancient being so casually attending the soft Human prize. Not all who hunted sought harm, but even the insane knew better. Smaller predators will almost always give space to a bigger predator. No need to die this day.

The giant Shinigami was enjoying the history lessons from your world, curious that your own history had beings so similar to him that even shared his name. He also appreciated the fact you were so passionately defending his doppelganger in your world. Truthfully, the similarities between him and the Hades of your world was not lost on him. Perhaps the Humans of your world were originally from Twisted Wonderland and simply forgot over time after crossing to a different realm. If that were the case then he had much to consider.

Still, he appreciates how relaxed you are around him, now trusting in his willingness to act in your best interest. He had always afforded all of the Humans under his protection the ability to choose. The only difference now was he had to keep a closer eye on you than he did the Humans leaving his isle.

"I'm glad to be living up to your expectations, Little One. So long as it is your wish to stay here, I will aid you however I can. Young Idia has updated your phone to contact me directly should you ever have need. I must say, it is nice to hear of your home, you speak so little about it. I'm sure you have your reasons, so I won't pry. I'm thankful you trust me enough to share all of this with."

"Well, it's hard not to trust you. You've kind of been amazing."

It soothed the wounded depths of the old Shinigami's heart to hear such earnest words. You truly did trust him and he treasured that more than you would likely ever know. The mourning shawl had adorned him many long centuries. Those centuries were some of the most painful for him, yet that pain was lessened and balmed by your simple trust and affection. He treasured that.

[bberetd]

I am simple woman. I see Daisy parade mascot, I draw

[thenightwolf51]

"Danny was born a Wayne" AU except he's Bruce's grand uncle. The result of a one time drunken affair, shortly before Kenneth Wayne's death, to a young unmarried woman who gave the baby up for adoption.

(Whether the Fenton's, and therefore Amity, were just ahead of their times or the DC timeline is shifted a bit so that DP happens in its cannon era is up to you. Dealers choice, though now that i know about her i just love badass widowed prohibition leader Laura Elizabeth Wayne)

Danny grows up knowing hes adopted and loved by the Fentons but something (dealer's choice) happens and he loses his family and friends (maybe the whole town goes too?). In an attempt to avoid a Dan situation he flees into the Infinite Realm and doesn't stop.

He just wanders, time passes in its weird Realms way, not that Danny truly notices. A protector spirit thats lossed everything it protected. Its a wonder he doesn't fade and he actually might've if it wasn't for his human side.

But its a tug at his core that brings him from his near catatonic wandering. Gone before he can even understand it but enough to shake him back to himself. Enough to know that hes nowhere near ready to go anywhere familiar so he continues on, his wandering no less pointless but at least he's aware again.

What feels like a relatively short time later he gets another tug, and this time he manages to follow it.

He follows it invisibly through a natural portal that drops him somewhere in New Jersey and all the way to a fancy hospital room in the gloomiest city he's ever seen.

In there he sees his half brother Patrick Wayne, though he wont figure out their connection for a few more years, holding little Agatha. She's adorable in her little dress and pigtails and her sweet face causes that familiar tug he recognizes from what must have been six years ago given the girls age.

Then a nurse comes in and hands a little bundle to what must be the mother (whos name i cant find) and Danny takes one look at the little core tugger who brought him here and just melts. Even without knowing yet that this is his last remaining family, his instincts latch on and he vows to protect and care for the Waynes.

And he does.

He finds his forgetful brother's documents and keeps Aggy company when everyone else is busy and soothes baby Thomas so his poor sister-in-law can get some more sleep. He ices fevers and bruised knees and helps on later games of hide and seek.

He very rarely becomes visible and only to the children. His grief over the Fenton's convinces him its better to protect his new family from the shadows.

Danny explores every inch of the manor, including secret passages and an underground cave system. He claims a forgotten room in the back of the attic as his own, which over the years fill up with knickknacks, heirlooms, and pictures of the family. Even a gift or two from Agatha, who hadn't stopped believing in their shadowy guardian like her brother did when Danny felt they were too old to see him without drawing suspicion.

The manor becomes his haunt and he always knows where each family member is within it. And when any guests have some no good intentions.

And when baby Bruce is born tugging at his core and with the bluest little eyes, he welcomes the fussy little thing. And makes sure dear Martha never knows just how fussy baby Bruce really is, otherwise she might've never had a full nights sleep.

Danny blames himself for not being there when Thomas and Martha die, and promises to never leave Bruces side, practically becoming the boy's living shadow. Watching over him as he gets older, secretly aiding him in his training. Danny feels a bit of pride when Bruce takes some inspiration from the old stories Thomas told him of the shadowy Wayne family protector when creating his Batman identity, glad his nephew still remembers him even if he hasn't shown himself since the now young man was six.

Danny continues to protect and care for the family in a variety of ways over the years even as the family grows.

Lightening Alfred's workload, softening Dick's falls, calming Jason's temper both pre and post pit, hiding Tim's coffee when the boy hasn't slept in far too long, providing plenty of shadows and hiding nooks for Cass, helping Damian hide the litter of kittens he found.

And no one seems to know he's there, except maybe Cass and he's pretty sure Alfred has been know since he first started working for the family. No one knows, that is, until Duke Thomas moves in and lookes right at him watching invisibly from the sidelines.

(@omnicrafts @dcxdpdabbles @hdgnj @ailithnight @nelkcats @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 i dont know, the main point of all this is that Danny's been protecting the Wayne family for decades and no one, except maybe Alfred, knew until Duke moved in)

[feyhunter78]

When the Night Turns

Description: The night before your husband leaves for battle, he tells you of his aspirations for the throne. You in turn confess your fears.

“I spoke with Cole, told him it is time for someone better to sit on the Iron Throne, and that will be me. Obviously.” Aemond says, his head resting on your thigh, his silver hair splayed out against the light blue fabric of your nightshift.

You say nothing, only continue combing your fingers through his hair. To speak in agreement with him would be treason, to speak against him would be your undoing.

“That this is where my reign begins.” He continues, the one arm around your waist tightening as he looks up at you, expectant.

You know what he desires, but you cannot give it to him, not here where Aegon is still King, where you do not have a dragon or an army of your own to keep you safe from accusations of treachery. Not when it is so clear that Aemond had no qualms about directing his anger at those closest to him, you cannot count on him or his dragon.

So, you choose the safe route. “Here, My Prince? I am no strategist, but I cannot say I believe my chambers to be the most effective place for anyone to begin their reign.”

Aemond hums in response, his good eye closed, his sapphire one glinting in the low candlelight.

You bite the inside of your cheek, stomach churning as you digest Aemond’s words. Of course, you believe him better suited for the throne but…

“I can sense the wheels in your mind turning issa prumia, speak, let your king ease your mind.” His voice still has that low, smooth tone to it, a gentleness to his words that you remember from when he said his vows, in the Great Sept. He promised that you were his, and he was yours, that none shall tear you asunder.

You smooth your thumb across his forehead, admiring the shadows his eyelashes cast upon his cheeks. “I wish you would take more care with your words. Your brother is the rightful king; it is what this war is all about, and I do not wish to see another conflict spring up when all of your focus should be on defeating the false queen.”

“And her craven of a husband.” Aemond says, unable to let any mention of his uncle go unsaid.

You nod, though he cannot see, and caress the curve of his cheek, fear flicking in your chest. “Yes, and that butcher.”

You shiver at the memory of the screams, of the rage and grief that echoed through the Keep after Jaehaerys’ death.

Aemond’s grip tightens on you once more, there is no need to speak, the consequences of Blood and Cheese’s actions weigh heavily on him, and you. They had been tasked with killing Aemond, but could not find him, Daemon did not know you and Aemond kept separate chambers, did not know your husband spent half his nights in your bed the other half in his own.

If they had not come upon Helaena first, if they had gone a few rooms down and found your chambers it may have ended differently, Aemond would have been able to stop them…

“I will not mourn when the Stranger comes for Daemon Targaryen.” You cannot keep the venom from your voice, even as flames of fear begin to climb once more within you.

Your hand must have stilled because Aemond brings it to his lips, his gaze meeting yours.

His amethyst eye is alight, a smug smile on his lips. “I will defeat them, I will win this war, and the realm shall have a king worthy of the throne. Rhaenyra and Daemon’s heads shall adorn the gates, and I shall decorate the Great Hall with their dragons’ skulls.”

You pull your hand away, your throat tight as the smoke from the flames of fear in your chest rise up and choke you.

Aemond follows, sitting up and taking your face in his hands, his eye inspecting every inch, his expression changed, softer, more attentive. “I am sorry, I should not speak of such things to you, they are far too gruesome for your ears.”

“I am afraid, Aemond.” You whisper, your hands coming to grasp his wrists, clinging to him. You know Vhagar is strong, that Aemond is smart, but you cannot help but be afraid, afraid that his pride will be his undoing.

“Do not be. Have faith in me, in Vhagar, in Cole. We are blessed, guided by the Seven.” He says, his long, lithe fingers threading into your hair, massaging the nape of your neck.

“I do, but I do not fear for you at Rook’s Rest, I fear that you will—” You cut yourself off, you cannot tell him you fear his pride will drive him to act foolishly, you are not the Dowager Queen, you cannot speak your mind so freely. “You are right. I will have faith.”

Aemond’s grip on you tightens, his gaze hardening. “Speak, y/n.”

You cast your eyes downwards, your voice soft. “I fear that you will be blinded by your ambition, that your pride will doom you.”

Aemond releases you with a sigh, and slips from your bed, his back to you as he gathers his things. “I expected such words from my mother. Perhaps you have spent too much time with one another.”

You follow after him, the stone floor cold against your bare feet. “I do not wish to lose you.”

He turns on his heel, eye patch in hand. “So, you think to insult me? To all but imply you do not believe I will be able to accomplish our goals, to win this war, and rule the realm?”

You take his hands in yours and press them to your heart, hoping he can feel how fervently it beats, how it beats for him, as it has since the day you met. “You asked me to speak, My King, to let you ease my mind. I did as you asked because I could not bear it if I did not speak, and you were lost to me because of the very thing I wished to warn you of.”

Your use of My King has softened him, if only a little, and he inclines his head towards you. “You think me prideful, issa prumia?”

“I think you a great man, with the largest dragon in the realm, but you are also a man who comes from hurt, whose family has been hurt.” You say carefully, as you keep a tight grip on his hands. “Your pain is real, and deserves recompense, but not at the risk of your life.”

Aemond’s eye flickers to the burning hearth, and you know you have reached him.

“Promise me, swear to me that if Daemon comes, however foolish it may be, no matter that you think he will not, promise me that you will use the aid of others to defeat him. Let that butcher gloat and preen, let him act as if he is the conqueror reborn, for we know he is a fool. And fools always reveal their weaknesses in time.”

Aemond slips his hands from yours and there is an ache in your chest, but he soothes it quickly, when he presses his lips to yours softly, his hand coming to cradle your cheek, the other settling on your waist. “My little wife, how clever you are.”

You lean into his touch, your own hands anchoring themselves in his tunic. “I must be, for how can I be the wife of King Aemond the first, if I am not?”

He smiles at your words, and pulls you flush against him. “I will have the servants move your things to my chambers, I want to return from battle to find my wife safe in my bed.”

Your heart leaps, when you first married you had hoped that you and Aemond would share chambers as your mother and father did, but he had shown little interest in the idea. In truth, it had served you and him well on that bloody night, but those routes in had been sealed, and his chambers were checked for other secret doors. It had been declared safe and for more than one reason now you could not be happier.

“You will find no argument from me, though I will need prior notice if you wish me to wear anything particular for your return.” Your voice takes on a jesting tone, though your words are true, and the way Aemond’s lips drift downwards, ghosting over the skin of your neck, tells you he hears them well.

“I have no preference, provided it is easily replaced.”

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering closed as Aemond’s lips find your pulse point. “Easily replaced?”

“How fond are you of this nightshift?” He asks in lieu of answering your question.

“I think it is pretty, but it is not my best one, I did not know you would be visiting me, so I did not have time to prepa—” The sound of fabric ripping accompanied by the clatter of a dagger against the stone floor and the cool air on your skin silences you.

Aemond hums appreciatively, his eye drinking in your form as he walks you backwards towards your bed. “This is why it must be easily replaceable; I cannot attest to the patience I will have when I return.”

HOTD Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool, @jennifer0305, @solkara, @simpinonyouz, @lorarri

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Infernal Shadows 03

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it. Carmilla and Velvet feud because I also live for that. I also really favor Zestial for some reason as a calm mediator.

Song for this chapter: Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61

A/N: Thank you all so much for your positive feedback & feedback in general on the last two posts!! I really didn’t think this would catch so much attention but I’m so glad people like it. For some reason Tumblr’s being weird and doesn’t want to let me tag certain people, I don’t know why but if anyone does please let me know because I really don’t like that ;/ But I hope you all enjoy this chapter!! Please note that some blogs cannot be tagged, so I recommend checking this post and to check your settings to make sure I can tag you! If anything I can always just message you when the next chapter comes out, and yes I am making this series longer :) it’ll also be posted on my Wattpad soon!

Word count: 3890

Taglist: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote @froggyferrets @frompeach @absurd-ash @sillysillyxinnabun @urdariingdoll @delectableworm @immahuman @justaproudslytherpuff @local-mr-frog @angeli-fucking-cat @coldsweetsenthusiast @jadekomaeda @iaaeav @coffeethoughtsandanxiety @lunalixya @pretty-puppy-stuffies @lemonrolls @asimplikeallyall @lunalixya

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part One. // Part two. // Part four.

Engaging with guests throughout the night had become an exhausting endeavor, and a part of you yearned for the solace of your absence. Nevertheless, you maintained the façade, acknowledging every sinner whose smile dripped with crimson mischief. Having greeted each guest, you discreetly slipped into a shadowed corner, your shadows enveloping your figure quickly, seamlessly disappearing from the expansive room in mere seconds and emerging into an intimate gazebo outside, meticulously arranged beneath the sweeping branches of a weeping willow, you marveled at its unique ambiance. Unlike the earthly counterparts that stood white, the willow in your realm bore a deep crimson hue, its leaves adorned with a subtle, luminous sheen. A gentle smile graced your lips as you leaned against the sturdy black iron railing, delicately cradling a piece of the weeping willow between your fingertips. In the distance, the grand mansion hosting the gala loomed, its opulence contrasting with the simplicity of your secluded retreat. Despite the awareness of etiquette dictating against leaving guests unattended, the need for a mental break led you to this haven, a safe space for you. Reflecting, you acknowledged a desire for better preparation and rehearsal with the shadows, realizing the repetitiveness of conversations with the familiar sinners had rendered the night somewhat lackluster. It almost felt like you had come out of hiding for nothing. Quite the disappointment.

You sigh, massaging your temples, the lace fabric on your fingertips only slightly soothing the growing headache. However, not too far behind, you hear the sound of soft grass. You straighten up and turn around, seeing none other than your long time friend Zestial, who just smiled, nodding at you.

“Why art thou out here all alone on this crimson night?” Zestial inquired, standing by your side with his back against the railing. You resumed your original position, taking a moment to appreciate his father. Mentally noting how much of your grandfather Zestial reminded you of, you kept the sentiment unspoken.

Tonight, Zestial adorned himself in an outfit resonant with his time period, preserving his distinctive color scheme. A dark, meticulously tailored coat with lime green accents draped over his slender frame, capturing the essence of his demonic class. The cloak, adorned with lime green spider webs, unveiled a mesmerizing display when unfurled—his lime green eyes radiating, the upper pair embellished with vivid red irises. Instead of the customary big top hat, Zestial selected a smaller, more appropriate hat with a touch of flair. Dark as the shadows you command, it featured a light grey patch at the front and was finished with a grey-colored skull and a lime green and red-striped feather on the right side, adding a distinctive touch that mirrored his nature.

“Why art thou out here all alone on this crimson night?” Zestial repeated, shifting toward you a bit. Yet you resumed your original position, savoring the quiet ambiance before finally answering him. “What shall we discourse upon during our repast this eventide?” Zestial asked. Though his wording occasionally posed a challenge for others, having grown up in a family of eloquent speakers, you easily deciphered his intent. Something he truly appreciated. Though he was learning to speak more ‘modern’, or as modern as he could be.

“Quite unsure of that. Everything is changing, and I fear I might be left behind,” you expressed bluntly. Zestial sighed in response, a mix of understanding and concern evident in his lime green eyes.

“Madame, thou art timeless,” Zestial said with a bow, his cup proofing into smoke. “I pray thee, vex not thyself o’er so trivial a matter,” he added, his words resonating with both reassurance and genuine care.

You nodded, handing him a card. His surprised expression upon finding two cards instead of one didn’t escape you. “What manner of thing is this?” Zestial inquired, prompting you to summon a shadow for yourself, knowing he would find his own means back to the Gala.

“Carmilla. I am no fool to the both of you,” you said, amusement coloring your words as Zestial shook his head.

“Thou dost astonish me on every occasion,” Zestial remarked, standing by your side as you walked into your portal. Two seats vanished, leaving four empty seats at your table and six occupied.

In your study, you floated scripts in front of you, checking off names on the table list for tonight. With a few overlords left to choose from, Alastor and Charlotte secured seats based on trust and connections. Vox, Zestial, and Carmilla, an unspoken but potent couple, promised intrigue. Reconsidering Velvet for her potential devolution, you weighed each decision with strategic acumen.

Valentino, the Von Eldritch twins, and other weaker options were dismissed, maintaining a careful balance of power and influence. As you weigh the option of inviting Rosie to the gathering, her unpredictable nature adds a layer of excitement and potential surprise to the upcoming discussions. However, this unpredictability could also introduce challenges, creating an air of uncertainty around her contributions. Hopefully with Alastor around, she’d feel more inclined to behave. You check her name off the list.

In considering Stolas, the Goetia prince, his personal issues and tarnished reputation pose significant hurdles. Divorcing from his wife, sleeping with an imp for fun, as well as losing control of his daughter on Earth, it all seemed too risky to get involved with. While his wisdom and influence could contribute positively, the shadows of his struggles may complicate the dynamics, stirring potential conflicts and requiring delicate handling. Someone might get out of line with a comment towards him. His power was incredibly useful, but not worth the risk.

Husk’s transformation from a former overlord to a bartender signals a decline in power and status. While his laid-back demeanor might bring a sense of unpredictability, his diminished influence raises questions about the relevance of his involvement in the current political landscape of hell. Though he was your friend, you needed to keep your reputation pristine.

As the you contemplate the overlords assets, a mix of excitement, caution, and uncertainty envelops the decision-making process. Each overlord’s potential positive contributions are balanced by the looming negatives.

“Madame?” One of your shadows materialized, prompting a nod for them to proceed. “There seems to be some trouble in the lobby between the guests. What would you like us to do?” it inquired. A grimace crossed your face, hoping the disturbance wouldn’t mar your night. “Let me handle it,” you declared, snapping your fingers, causing the script to vanish. The shadow nodded, blending back into a wall for you to step through.

Upon reappearing, you assumed the form of a taller shadow. The room surrounded by guests revealed Vox, Velvet, Alastor, and Carmilla standing in the middle. Zestial, seemingly composed, stood close behind Carmilla, observing the situation. Carmilla appeared visibly upset, with Velvet in proximity, a pointed finger dropping as soon as she noticed your arrival. Alastor maintained his usual wide smile, though it bordered on the eerie, revealing a glimpse of his gums. The scene unfolded, presenting a potential challenge to the serene atmosphere you aimed to maintain during the gala.

Everyone seemed to stop, slowly turning toward you to see your face. Except there was no expression, just the large shadow you had taken form of. In seconds the shadow disappeared, leaving you in the fog, the expression on your face anything but calm.

"Madame I-" Velvet began, but her words were halted by the sight of your lace glove, your hand rising to silence her. Approaching the overlords, you spoke with an air of cold authority.

"My quarters. Now," you commanded, and with a snap of your fingers, smoke enveloped your spot as you vanished. Shadows materialized around the overlords, guiding them to your quarters, leaving the stunned guests in the lobby.

"Well, that was interesting," Valentino remarked.

In your study, the overlords found you seated in your tall, black chair. Its ebony surface featured intricate carvings of black glass, elegant swirls, and patterns tailored to your essence, creating an atmosphere of undeniable authority and refinement.

"I hope you all had fun acting like children," you chided sternly. The overlords lined up, forming a unified front. Leaning against the right side of your chair, you crossed your legs, elbow on the armrest, pinching the bridge of your nose with a sigh. Annoyance laced your words as you questioned, "What did you feel the need to argue about now?" Before Velvet, Vox, and Carmilla could respond simultaneously, you halted them. "One at a time. I'd assume you all handle this like adults, if you even can." The tension in the room hung thick as the overlords awaited their turn to address your inquiry.

“She wants me at her table Vaggie! Me!” Charlotte said excitedly. Vagatha just smiled.

“That’s good! Now you can tell them about the hotel, and maybe someone will be interested.” Vagatha said, and Charlotte just nodded.

“Maybe they-“ Charlotte stopped, observing as people began to crowd around the center of the lobby. Charlotte and Vagatha stood from their spots at the bar to walk toward the center, where the overlords stood. Velvet and Vox were next to each other, while Carmilla, Alastor and Zestial were across. Carmilla and Velvet were face to face. “What’s going on?” Charlotte asked as Vagatha and her pushed their way through the crowds of people.

“Come on, Carmilla, always the mood-killer,” Velvet scoffed, a disrespectful tone tainting her words. Carmilla shot her a stern look, ready to assert her authority.

“Watch that tongue, Velvet. I will not let your insolence slide,” Carmilla retorted, attempting to rein in the escalating tension.

Vox, ever the smooth talker, chimed in, “Ladies, ladies, let’s not turn this into a drama fest. We’re all here for a reason.” Vox said, sternly giving a tight lipped smile to Velvet, silently telling her to keep her shit together.

Carmilla shot a glare at Velvet, who replied with a defiant smirk, “Drama or not, Vox, some of us aren’t here for the ballroom charm.”

Alastor, drawn to the brewing chaos, couldn’t resist adding his flair, “Well, well, a bit of spice never hurt a party, does it?”

Carmilla, unfazed by the chaos, spoke with a calm authority, “Velvet, your insolence is unnecessary. This is not a playground; it’s a gathering of overlords. Act accordingly.”

Velvet, seemingly undeterred, shot back with a dismissive laugh, “Poor Grandma, always trying to play the responsible one. Maybe loosen up a bit? Have a drink will you?”

Vox, ever the smooth talker, added with a slick comment, “Perhaps we can focus on the matters at hand. Save the theatrics for later ladies.”

Alastor, intrigued by the unfolding drama, simply grinned, “Oh the picture box has spoken! Quite intriguing.” The room continued to buzz with tension as each overlord, except Rosie, added their own flavor to the brewing turmoil. As the tension thickened, Vox, with a sly grin, couldn't resist adding his own slick comment to the mix.

"Ah, Alastor, the radio days were quaint, but it seems you're a bit outdated. Television is the future, perhaps you should tune in sometime," he quipped with a wink, the words delivered with a calculated smoothness. The room momentarily hung in a charged silence before the verbal sparring resumed, adding another layer to the complex interplay of personalities at the gala.

With Vox's comment about Alastor being outdated sinking in, the radio demon responded with a sly grin, sharp teeth on display, his eyes displays dials, as the rooms lights began to deepen, "Ah, Vox, your television endeavors are impressive, but remember, I'm not just audible; I'm unforgettable. A little screen time won't change that," he retorted, “This face was made for radio.” He said with a grin, tilting his head to the side, a sharp snap in his neck, his words carrying a mix of amusement and confidence. The verbal exchange between the two overlords added another layer to the already charged atmosphere, each comment becoming a piece in the intricate puzzle of conflicts and egos at the gala.

“See what you did grandma, now you’ve got the two of them fighting.” Velvet said, pointing a finger into Carmella’s chest. She scoffed, shoving her away.

“Don’t you dare get disrespectful on me you brat.” Carmilla said, beginning to heat up with anger.

That's when Madame stepped in, reappearing in the form of a taller shadow, casting a lengthened silhouette in the room brimming with guests. Vox, Velvet, Alastor, and Carmilla found themselves at the center of the unfolding tableau, and Zestial, seemingly composed, lingered just behind Carmilla, quietly observing the escalating drama. Carmilla's visage betrayed a hint of distress, her pointed finger lowering as she registered your reappearance. Alastor, with his trademark grin, bordered on eerie, revealing a glimpse of his gums. The unfolding scene disrupted the serene atmosphere you had meticulously aimed to maintain during the gala, presenting an unexpected challenge.

A hush fell over the room as everyone turned their gaze toward you, anticipating your reaction. However, your face remained expressionless, concealed within the depths of the large shadow you had taken form of. In mere seconds, the shadow dissipated, leaving you in a misty veil. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, a storm brewed, ready to challenge the delicate balance of the evening.

Now, here you all were, sitting in the study after Carmilla had explained the situation.

“Madame, with all due respect,” Carmilla spoke, looking down. “I truly do not believe Velvet is mature enough to be at our table tonight.” Carmilla said.

“Are you questioning my judgment?” You asked sharply, to which Carmilla stiffened quickly, shaking her head then.

”No Madame, I would never-“

“Then do not say foolish things.” You said. Sighing, you shut your eyes, feeling the weight of the situation. Tonight sensitive information would be revealed and Carmilla did have some point here. Velvet clearly could not hold her tongue.

”Vox, control your associate please, or you both will be cut from the dinner tonight.” You said finally, to which he nodded nervously.

“Of course Madame.” He said, nodding to you.

“I wasn’t finished.” You said, looking to Alastor.

“I want none of this technology talk either.” You spoke, staring at Alastor who just smiled with lidded eyes. You knew he was very much upset, but you had forbidden anyone to fight in your home, anyone but you of course. “You all will act like mature adults wether you like it or not. I am not your guardian, I should not be having this conversation with overlords who should know better.” You said, standing. ”Now, all of you, out.” You said, snapping your fingers. Quickly the shadows began to move, ushering everyone out of your study. Everyone except Carmilla. “Not you.” You said to her, Zestial nodding to you and her as he stepped out, giving you both privacy.

“Madame, I didn’t mean what I said-“ Carmilla said quickly. You waved her off, straightening yourself out.

“Nonsense Carmilla, I know you meant well.” You said with a stoic expression. You sit back down, crossing your legs and snapping your fingers to form a chair in front of your desk, ushering her to sit. “I wanted to speak to you about your weapons.” You stated. At this her eyes went wide, before dropping again.

“Oh, very well then. What would you like to know?” She asked. You grinned, before standing again.

“Well, how much would I need to give you for you to make me a personal bayonet?” You asked. She went silent for a moment, before answering.

“Nothing at all Madame.” She said, standing to look at you. “May I ask what for?” She questioned. You shook your head.

“No, just to have on display. I want a new one, the old one I have is quite out of style for me.” You replied. She just nodded, before you waved to her, sitting back down and summoning a script again. “You may go now, and please, do not argue with children.” You commented. She just smiled and nodded, leaving you to your own vices.

It was half-past eleven, five minutes till the midnight bells chime. Everyone in the lobby was beginning to get excited for the entertainment you had planned for the night. Oh, you knew you would not disappoint.

“Madame would like everyone to accompany her on a journey tonight. She has sent me to retrieve you all. She would like to formally welcome you to tonight’s entertainment.” The large shadow said, standing from the topic of the stairs. Behind it was a large portal. It stepped backwards, into the portal, and nodded for the guests to start coming through.

The custom-built coliseum stands as a testament to Madame's vision, a grand fusion of opulence and dark elegance. The circular structure boasts towering columns, but instead of conventional pillars, thick chains rise, intricately linked and serving as both ornamental decor and structural support. The arches, molded in black, curve gracefully around the circumference, evoking a Victorian Gothic aesthetic that permeates the entire venue.

Two larger-than-life statues of Madame herself flank the entrance, capturing her regal poise and adding a touch of imposing authority. The statues serve not only as decorative elements but as a representation of the gala's hostess, a constant presence overseeing the proceedings, she is always watching, all seeing, perfection.

The overall ambiance is one of grandeur and mystery, with the black molding on the arches casting shadows that play into the darker undertones. Every intricate detail, from the chains to the statues, contributes to the unique Victorian Gothic feel of the coliseum, matching Madame’s home perfectly, matching her perfectly. The venue, finally being unveiled to the guests, now welcomes them who are treated to an appetizer course, surrounded by the striking architecture and entertained within the darkly enchanting atmosphere Madame has meticulously crafted.

Numerous shadows, dark and formless, line the entrance walls, extending silent greetings to the arriving guests. Their presence adds an air of mystique and intrigue as they blend seamlessly with the Gothic architecture. As attendees make their way into the coliseum, these shadowy figures create an ethereal welcome, embodying the unique atmosphere of Madame's custom-built venue.

At a separate entrance reserved for the handpicked members of Madame's esteemed dinner table, a solitary shadow stands guard. This entrance, reserved for a select few, hints at the exclusivity and importance of those who will partake in the upcoming dinner. The shadowy sentinels serve not only as silent greeters but also as guardians of the event's secrets, casting an enigmatic allure over the gala.

A singular shadows escorts Charlotte, Alastor, and the rest of the overlords to the exclusive section, leading them to an elevator to bring them to the best seats in the coliseum. The elevator’s interior is a striking display of elegance, with white and black checkered flooring lending a timeless touch. The walls, enveloped in darkness, exude an air of mystery, while black, smokey glass engravings on the ceiling add intricate detailing that dances in the ambient light. Each number on the elevator, indicating the ascending levels, glows a vibrant red, creating a vivid contrast against the monochrome palette.

“Oh I’m so excited! What do you think we’re gonna see? Gladiators? Sinners fight? Oh actually I hope not, I don’t want people to die.” Charlotte said to Alastor. Carmilla just chuckled at her antics while Zestial eyed her with curiosity. Where did Alastor find such a girl and why the princess of all people?

The elevator stops at the top floor, revealing the opening in the middle, which was surprisingly covered with water.

“What is Madame playing at?” Carmilla questioned as the overlords sat in a row at the top. From there they could see everything and everyone.

“I am quite uncertain, yet my anticipation is stirred nonetheless.” Zestial said. The lights around began to dim, and shadows began to pour glasses of water in front of all the guests. Down in the middle of the coliseum was the tallest shadow, the one that seemed to be Madame’s favorite, since it always spoke for her.

“Greetings all. It is Madame’s pleasure to invite you all to the special entertainment tonight. Madame has put together some of hell’s finest performers for your entertainment tonight. I would like to present, preforming here tonight, The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra preforming Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61.” The shadow said with a bow, before it vanished just as quick as it came. Then, other shadows appeared, but this time they were different. They were people, performers, with clear outlined silhouettes, faces and expressions, even clothes.

“Hey, Al?” Charlotte asked, leaning over in her seat to Alastor. He let out a ‘hm?’ In response.

“Does Madame own those souls down there?” Charlotte whispered, but before Alastor could answer, a shadow had already cut in.

“Yes. All the shadows here, even yours, Madame owns.” The shadow said quietly, filling Charlotte’s glass cup with water. Charlotte nervously, perked up, but said nothing as she shadow carried on with it’s catering.

The ethereal notes of the music filled the air as the performance unfolded. Around the musicians stood ballet dancers, their movements a delicate poetry in motion. Clad in all black, the performers created a stark contrast to the dancers, who emerged with an otherworldly grace akin to figures rising from the depths of water. The dancers moved with an angelic fluidity, their forms intertwining seamlessly with the haunting melody, creating a mesmerizing tableau that captivated the audience. The visual symphony of black-clad musicians and the whisky-hued ballet dancers painted a scene of enchantment and mystery within the grand coliseum. Even down to the dancers, this had Madame written all over it.

Velvet's keen eye captured the essence of the dancers' ethereal movements on paper. With each stroke of her sketch, she depicted the dancers as if emerging from a watery abyss, the fog enveloping their feet creating an illusion of water flowing upward. The intricate details on her sketch paper brought to life the dancers' graceful forms, their figures seemingly intertwined with the rising mist, evoking the enchantment of a waterspout captured in a moment of sublime artistry. Velvet's artistic interpretation added a layer of depth to the performance, transforming the ephemeral dance into a tangible and captivating visual narrative.

Water had begun to swirl, the dancers moving around it, the water getting taller and taller, similar to the way it had when you had first made your entrance at the beginning of the Gala. Now, it was water, and from Charlotte’s seat, she had struggled to make out what was going on. She turned to Alastor to see him holding a pair of opera glasses in his hand. Without you having to ask, he tapped the armrest of her seat. Charlotte turned to the side to see a pair tucked neatly against the front of the armrest. She grabbed them quickly, before looking through them and at the waterspout now forming in the middle. Her jaw flew open, as well as the loud screech of Alastor’s track playing. Vox had short circuited, and Carmilla gasped loudly. Velvet stood silent, but there was evident confusion on her face, while Zestial sunk into his seat, conflicting emotions flowing through him.

“Madame- she’s-“ Charlotte stuttered, and Alastor nodded, swallowing thickly.

“With an exorcist. I know.”

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Fae!Danny But Make It Fantasy

I've already made a whole Changeling AU with fae!Danny, but guess what, I have decided not to achieve any level of chill with fae ideas.

We all know Danny is Ghost Kind. Now, what if he is a Fae Prince? A Prince of Winter, to be exact. Imagine all the ice castles (Elsa, I'm looking at you), the snowy lands, northern lights in his crown, a cape made of tiny ornate snowflakes. Crystalline ice swords, skin so white he doesn't even look alive, eyes clear and blue like a frozen lake. Formal gowns, ballrooms, duels and carriages pulled by horses made of snowstorms.

He used to be a changeling, put in place of Dan. Grew up in a village with his parents being witch hunters, or maybe just hunters in general. Meanwhile Dan, a human child whose place he took, grew up in a fae realm, surrounded by magic creatures and miracles.

But Danny couldn't hide he was a fae his whole life. He used to look human when he was a baby, but as the time went by, he started to look more and more fae-like. Jazz was the first to notice it, of course, but this was Danny, a child she practically raised, so she dealt with it. Their parents, though, did not.

Sam and Tucker are in the know, for sure. Sam used this opportunity to learn witchcraft - who is better to learn from than an actual fae? Tucker is a blacksmith, as is his family. The first thing he asked Danny when he discovered he is a fae, was "how in the seven kingdoms are you a fae, and you decided a blacksmith is your best friend?" because, honestly, not even Fentons have so much iron around them as Tucker does.

Now, you may be thinking of where the DC part comes in here.

Well, the Waynes are actually the royal family. Bruce is the King of Gotham, and his children are princes, princesses, and heirs. They are also protecting the country not only by the word of the law, but also from the other, more shady side. I think they should go by Shadows, not Bats, though, since I doubt a name like 'Batman' would fly in the fantasy world.

Constantine is a mage, the strongest one alive, and yet he couldn't care less for his uniqueness if he tried for a week. Diana is the Queen of Themyskira, of course. I think Krypton should be its own country or a continent, ruled by the family of El. Although Jon is the first heir to a throne, due to Kon being, well, a bastard in terms of medieval customs.

After Danny's race is found out by his parents, he leaves for the fae realm, and he offers his friends and his sister to join him. Tucker refuses, Sam and Jazz take him up on that, but Sam leaves shortly after - she mostly used it to get away from her overbearing parents. She is now a witch who lives in the woods all alone, and no one can find her. She keeps contact with Danny, though. Jazz is traveling both the fae and the human realms, just having fun with it.

Jason is part-fae. After he died, a cult has abducted his body - the cult leader being Ra's, of course - and used it for an experiment. They used some fae magic to bring him back, or, maybe, they have tried to merge a fae and a human, creating a chimera. This was the first option of Ra's trying to get closer to Bruce in order to take power. It was not a very successful option since both Jason and whatever was left of the fae inside him decided not to obey the madman.

Damian was... slightly more successful. He was not merged with anything, but his development was magically enhanced.

And now, while Danny is back in the fae realm and he is a crowned Prince of Winter, Clockwork has a problem. He knows humans are afraid of fae, but this is not a very productive way to go. And there is a timeline somewhere there that can fix it.

Of course, Danny is right in the middle of that timeline. Now, Clockwork just needs to find a way to help Danny make an alliance with humans.

[darilarostarg]

Prince of Dragonstone

Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

Words: 1.5K

Warnings: SMUT, smut with no plot (my speciality!), fingering (f receiving) , sex w/o a condom, breeding kink 

Summary: A sleepy Prince of Dragonstone has needs after a long day.

The warmth of the arms enveloping you wakes you up enough to see that the once roaring fire is now in decay, and the room is now plunged in darkness. You moan softly in content in the warmth radiating from his body, pushing yourself back into him. Daemon positions his head, chin nestling into the curve of your shoulder, lips chaste against your neck.

“Ñuha jorrāelagon?” He mutters as he settles himself next to you. You know what he wants. You have followed this same route for moons now, ever since his appointment and your arrival at Dragonstone. Daemon being named heir had shocked you, both of you happy to live in Viserys' shadows, reaping the benefits of being a second son of the realm and his lady wife. But with Viserys and Aemma struggling to conceive, and the arrival of your sweet son, the pressure to name your husband heir had increased, and for the stability of the realm, Viserys had no choice. 

So Daemon took his place at Dragonstone, spending his days over seeing the running of the castle, preparing to become King, and when the hour of the ghost hit, he would slip into bed beside you, with wandering hands and his hard length pressed up against your ass. 

“Mm?” You hum back to him. Sleep is still lingering in your body, just about to pull you back into the darkness. But you know deep down, if you’re being completely honest with yourself, no matter how tired you might be when he slips in beside you late each night– you’ll ever be too tired to feel him…to be used by him. You were his. Whenever and wherever he wanted.

Daemon's arms dip beneath you, pulling you closer to him, his nose running along the side of your shoulder, his hand softly pushing at your upper thighs parting your legs. His fingers run up your inner thighs, pushing up under your gown, fingers edging up to find the growing wetness between them. A small whine escapes past your lips, and suddenly he is delving his middle and pointer fingers between your folds, spreading your wetness, causing you to clench softly around nothing. His breath is hot against your neck and shoulder, his lips leaving wet kisses sporadically along it. 

“My perfect little wife, hm? Getting herself ready for me.” He breathes out as he mouths your neck, amusement dripping from the low words. His free hand moves from your stomach, reaching to your knees and pulling up the soft cotton gown up ensuring you were entirely available to him. “Getting herself all ready for her husband, hm?” 

You gasp when one fingers that had been circling your hole finally dips in. In your still slightly sleepy state, your body reacts involuntarily, instantly overstimulated. Your legs are moving to clench together and jerk away, but Daemon knows your body better than you do. He quickly slots his large knee between your legs so he still has access to your increasingly fluttering pussy. His free hand moving back to your stomach to keep you in place.

“Mm, Dae,” The movement is involuntary once again, your hand shooting to his wrist as your thighs squeeze his knee, trying to shut at the feeling of him pressing another thick finger into your slick hole, pumping them at slow steady pace, hitting the spot inside you that has you beginning to clamp tightly down on his thick fingers. 

“Come on, don’t you wanna be good for me? Be a good wife for your future King?” He is teasing you, and loving every second. Daemon’s teeth graze against your earlobe, nipping softly at it. Before you can respond, all words die in the back of your throat when a third digit makes its way inside of you, and he begins pressing the ball of his palm to your small bundle of nerves.

The added pleasure causes a whine dies in your throat and your eye to squeeze shut, falling over the edge quickly. Your body tensing, pussy spasming, as he makes sure you ride out the high on his hand. His hand stills, kissing in between your shoulders tenderly as he removes his fingers, letting his hand slot out from between your thighs. His hand raises to your lips, three wet fingers gently pushing past your lips, making you taste yourself as you lick and suck them clean. 

Once his hand is clean, he pulls it from you. You shuffle to turn over to face him, get a good look at him, having missed his face all day, missing your typical super together for an emergency meeting about the merchants that were illegally docking on the shores of Dragonstone. But he stops you, hand landing on your upper arm, gently pushing you forward slightly, keeping you turned away from him and on your side.

“Want you like this tonight.” He mutters lowly, and you’re unable to tell if he’s talking to you or more so himself.

He presses his chest against your back, settling himself against your back, hands fixing your thighs into position so that he has full access to your weeping pussy. You moan at the feeling of him rubbing his thick cock between your swollen, glistening folds. He grunts softly as he lets his tip dip into your hole, before removing it and allowing it to catch on your throbbing clit, making you push yourself towards him, desperate for more of him.  

“I know, I know.” He murmurs, and your eyes roll back and moan escapes your lips when he slides into you, mixing with the sound of his deep groan that emits from him behind you, as he softly trusts into you, stretching you nicely. 

“There you go….gods, you take me so well.” 

The adjustment period ends quickly, the stress of the day quickly surfacing and suddenly Daemon is trying to split you open on his cock. His thrusts somehow tread the line of both sleepy and deliberate, soft yet rough, the pace causing your head to bury itself into the pillow below you, teeth biting down to drown out your moans. 

“D-Dae, fuck.” You mewl, feeling his tip run against that soft, spongy part inside of you over and over again just as his fingers had just done. Subconsciously, once again, your body jerks away from him, the intense pleasure becoming too much. However, Daemon has other plans for you, hands  tightly wrapping around your waist, fingers digging so deeply that bruises will litter them in the morning.

“No-no, stay on my cock pretty one. take. my. fucking. cock.”

Your body tries to move from him again, causing Daemon to grunt in displeasure, hand running down to your thigh and hooking your leg over his, locking you in place. A high pitched moan leaves you, the new angle allowing him to reach impossibly deeper within your warm, wet heat. Your arm moves up to his hair, gripping tightly at the roots long silver locks, your other other hand moving to gripping between his large thighs and ass. 

Your walls flutter, throat now dry and raw, you can already feel the coil in the pit of your stomach tighten. You’re so close and Daemon knows it; the hand not keeping your leg in place finds the space between your thighs, playing with your, now very swollen, clit.

“Fuck– please, I–,” You can’t form a coherent sentence, only mumbles of pleases leaving your mouth, not with the amount of stimulation you’re receiving, and the filth that he’s spewing in your ear. Him telling you he’s going to breed again you like you deserve? Because you’ve been so good to him? Let you carry his babe? Make you nice and swollen? Swollen with another heir? 

His filthy mouth is stopped by the sound of him letting out a guttural moan as his hips smack against the flesh of your ass. You're so far gone at this point, you can barely register the sound of your squelching pussy echoing throughout the silence of the dark room, but Daemon can. Daemon can hear it, and all it does is make his balls tighten.

Daemon loudly groans as your pussy clamps down on him,which only eggs him on to pound into you harder. He can’t stop fucking you because it feels too good. You feel too good. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm, trusting quickly, telling you he is going to fill you up, as your pussy clamps in waves around him, back arches and whines die in your throat. 

Your eyes are so glazed over that you can’t even see properly anymore. You’re too focused on the post-coital high you’re riding, that you barely register Daemon grunts and moans as he coats your walls and begins to still within you.  

Daemon keeps himself buried inside of you, the mix of your essences most certainly leaking out from your hole and along his cock. His hands run gently along your thighs up to your waist, before softly landing on your stomach, thumbs softly rubbing the skin, his head position itself behind yours. You shuffle back into him, head finally turning to look at him, leaving sweet kisses along his jaw. 

“Goodnight, Ñuha jorrāelagon.” 

Authors Note:

A little soft, sleepy smut in honour of Matt’s perfect lil dilf belly that I got to see in person this week, and now I will never stop thinking about the fact that it’s under all that Daemon armour ✨

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Taglist: @yn-jackson , @ilikechocolatemilkh

[azuries]

here it is!! my VERY self indulging sees!ryoji au masterpost ;w; i hope you guys enjoy reading through it! i was heavily inspired by all the amazing art and content ive seen of the concept that i wanted to explore it too!

ART:

Moonlight Trio

Yukari and Ryoji going shopping (SEES!Ryoji winter clothes variations)

Ryoji accidentally hitting MC with his scythe

SEES!Ryoji sketch dump

SEES!Ryoji Theurgy splash

SEES!Ryoji Theurgy Storyboard

Ryomina in Tartarus

Ryomina in Tartarus P2

Ryomina in Tartarus P3

Cooking with Yukari

SEES!Ryoji Sprite edit

SEES!Ryoji fanmade P3RE screenshots

Ryomina SEES!Ryoji animatic

feral SEES!Ryoji

Clumsy SEES!Ryoji

Charmed Ryoji

All Out Attack Splash

SEES!Ryoji Cut In Splash

Comic

Ryoji learns about evokers

More SEES Ryoji sketches

Twitter post

SEES RYOJI AU 

After Ryoji finds his resolve through the Hero, he offers to join his team. He gives him a choice to go through a better, yet harder way to get through Tartarus, a way only he can access. It features new bosses, content, and a new spin of the final fight with Strega.

Contains: Art, battle stats, Theurgy, combat dialogue, Tartarus dialogue and banter, and more!

Full post under the cut:

—-

This AU explores the idea that instead of Ryoji leaving for the last  month, he offers to join the team as a temporary team member to lend his power to help SEES reach the remaining floors of Tartarus before he merges with Nyx. More events happen that prolong the time you spend together. 

Ingame, it’s treated like a bonus mission and an addition to get to know Ryoji better during the aftermath of November. 

As a new addition to the team, he’ll join SEES in the dorm and have his own version of FTEs with plant tending, movie watching, book reading and cooking. He’ll have interactions with other party members. 

The player will also get to know more on his personal feelings as the Appriser. Through conversing with Ryoji, you learn in depth about Tartarus, and the player gets to see a more subdued side of him as he tries to come to terms with his identity. 

He uses an evoker to trigger his form as Thanatos instead of using it to summon a Persona.

The player can choose to go through this route, or play the game like how it was originally set. The ending remains the same.

Party Stats:

Level: Scaleable, 2 levels higher 

Element: Dark and Almighty

Weakness: None, reflects pierce damage 

Combat style: Prioritizes debuffing, tank 

Theurgy - Death’s Call: Deals massive almighty damage to all foes. Fears both enemies and allies. 

Theurgy condition: When Ryoji sees his friends suffer a lethal blow, he feels determined to take vengeance.

Theurgy Personality bonus:

Chance to grant Arcana Burst even without completing your Major Arcana stack.

+ More damage to weak foes. 

Inflicts distress to all foes in start of battle. 

DIALOGUE:

Ryoji’s first Tartarus entrance dialogue: 

Ryoji: - So this is Tartarus.

I, I can feel her. She’s keeping an eye on us. On me.

Remember that I’m here to help. Tartarus is Nyx’s realm, but I should know a better way to help you get to the top. 

Keep in mind that I may not be as impenetrable while I’m here, and shadows will be a lot more hostile if we go this way. Are you sure you wanna do this?

MC:

> Nowhere to go but up.

> Let’s do this.

> Are you sure there’s no other way?

Don’t worry. Whatever‘s waiting for us, I won’t let anything happen to you. They’ll have to get through me first. 

First Summon dialogue: 

I have to do this. Everyone..I’m sorry for what you’re about to see. 

Get out here, Thanatos! 

Turning into Thanatos (Persona Summon) 

If this is what it takes.

Please look away.

Thanatos!  

Do what you must!

Combat 

Shift dialogue:

All up to you! 

We’re in this together!

Receiving end of shift dialogue: 

I’m on it! 

They’ll get what's coming to them.

Item use: 

This will help, right? 

Getting healed:

I don’t deserve this.

Death:

I-I hope it was enough. 

Sorry..

AILMENTS

Distress

It’s over.. Why do we still try?

Confuse 

Guys? What’s going on?!

Rage

Come on! Take me down if you can! 

Charm

So, how about dinner?~

Down

You’re kidding me! 

Shock

What is this?! 

AOA

Before All Out Attack:  

We’re going in! 

Before splash art: 

And that's how it's done! 

Splash art Caption: 

DEATH IS INEVITABLE

All Out Attack splash art line:

Pointless to deny your fate.

Basic victory dialogue: 

I hope it was worth it. 

Heh, how was that? 

Battle aftermath:

That was impressive. You’re all amazing!

Stairs discovery

Found the stairs. There’s no time to lose! 

Found the way up! You know best, leader.

Treasure

Ooh, something shiny! 

Hey, guys! Found something useful? Maybe?

SEES advantage: 

They never saw it coming! 

Ambush / enemy advantage: 

Leader, stay close to me!

Hit by crit: 

That’s impossible! 

SEES Tartarus dialogue w/Ryoji 

Junpei: Hey, so.. Ryoji… What’s with the long scarf? And how do you not slip from it when you run? 

Ryoji: I don’t think it’s that long! 

Yukari: Seriously? Out of all the questions you can ask him, that’s what you go with? 

—-

Mitsuru: For someone with no prior experience, you’ve been keeping up well, Ryoji-kun. 

Ryoji: I’m glad you think so, Kirijo-senpai.

Akihiko: Don’t push yourself, though, alright?

—-

Junpei: Ryoji! Now that you live with us, we have got to continue the game we were playing! 

Ryoji: I don’t think you’d want to…Didn’t I delete your save on accident?

Junpei: Eh, I wasn’t paying much attention to the story in the first place. 

—-

Ryoji: I never got to thank you before for helping me settle in, Fuuka. How about I take you out? 

Fuuka: Oh, of course! Let’s invite the others too!

Junpei: …Yikes, dude.

—-

Fuuka: I’ve always wanted to do karaoke with you all. You should join us, Ryoji-kun!

Ryoji: Oh, m-me...?

Junpei: Yeah, you’re always holed up in your room and we never know where you’re out at night! How about we sing our hearts out instead? 

Ryoji: Ahh.. haha..I… I’ll think about it. 

—-

Ryoji: *Humming Mass Destruction* 

Aigis: Ryoji-san. Were you the one making those sounds? 

Ryoji: Sorry! Makoto-kun and I were listening to some songs, and now I can’t get it out of my head. 

—-

Ryoji: Aigis..About what happened before. I feel like I should apologize one more time. 

Aigis: Instead of apologies, let’s make a promise. That we’ll see this through, together.

Ryoji: …Yeah. You’re right.  

—-

Aigis: It’s strange. In the real world, you’re impenetrable. But in Tartarus...

Ryoji: Until the promised day, I’m an obstacle to Nyx. I wouldn’t put it past her to limit my power. 

Mitsuru: So she was expecting this. Well, we just have to plan accordingly, then.

—-

Aigis: I decided to live, but…how do I even begin? How would I know? 

Ryoji: I already sense life within you, Aigis. You’re doing more than enough.

—-

Ryoji: Wandering Tartarus must feel repetitive. Maybe I can try something! I can add some arcade machines? 

Ryoji: Oh… but if I do that, Tartarus will just take it away again. *sigh* Nevermind, then.

Ken: Can.. Can you actually do that?!

Yukari: *sigh* Of course he can’t. 

—-

Akihiko: How are you holding up, Mochizuki? Think you can still keep up?

Ryoji: Heh, that’s not even a question, Senpai.

—-

Ryoji: I hope I’m not bringing you guys down. What do you think, Koromaru-san? 

Koromaru: *barks enthusiastically*

Fuuka: Hahaha. Koro-chan seems to enjoy your company!

—-

Yukari: Whew..! You guys notice the shadows have gotten…much more alert?

Akihiko: You’re right. It’s like we unlocked the deepest depths of Tartarus that Nyx didn’t want us to see.

—-

Junpei: Jeez Ryoji, you weren’t kidding. The shadows of this detour are a whole different monster! 

Ryoji: I’m sorry, Junpei. But I promise it’s just a little longer. 

Junpei: Who am I to back down from a challenge? This’ll be a piece of cake! 

—-

Mitsuru: Are you settling in the dorm well, Ryoji-kun?

Ryoji: Oh. I am, thank you. 

Mitsuru: Of course. Just let us know if you need anything.

—-

Ken: Did anyone hear footsteps in the boys’ dorm last night? 

Yukari: Must have been Aigis sneaking to Makoto’s room, even if I told her to not leave past curfew…

Aigis: It was not me. I was out for my monthly checkup. 

Yukari: Then… who was it?

Ryoji: It wasn’t me! 

Yukari: No one said it was you! 

—-

Ken: So, where have you been living before, well, all of this, Ryoji-senpai?

Ryoji: I-I actually don’t know. Anything outside of school and Makoto-kun becomes a blur.

Fuuka: Ryoji-kun…

—-

Ryoji: You’re amazing to lead such a capable team, Makoto-kun. You look good like this. 

—-

Yukari: Ryoji-kun and I went thrift shopping the other day. It was actually pretty fun!

Ryoji: Thanks for taking me out, Takeba-san. I wanted that jacket, though.. 

Yukari: Unless you wanna blind someone with that thing, there’s no good reason to wear it! 

Ryoji: *sighs sadly*

—-

Ryoji: There were so many couples on Paulownia Mall for Christmas Eve. It was lovely to see.

Junpei: Ooo, does our newest member have a special someone they have in mind?

Ryoji: I-I wouldn’t say that..

Junpei: Hahaha! You’re like a tomato right now, dude! 

Ryoji: Hey, knock it off!

—-

Ryoji: Wait, you’ve reached past the 200th floor?! Akihiko: All in a day’s work. Everyone has been putting in their all. 

—-

Akihiko: You’re hardly breaking a sweat. What’s your routine, Mochizuki?

Ken: I’m guessing it’s him not being human in the first place?

Akihiko: Ken, that’s not..!

Ryoji: It’s alright, I don’t mind. He has a point, though.

—-

Yukari: I won these chocolate bars, I brought them in case anyone wanted a snack. Want some? 

Ryoji: Oh, that’s okay. I don’t eat sweets that much. 

—-

Mitsuru: I have to say it was quite convenient for the Kirijo Group to have an extra weapon. 

Ken: Yeah, and what’re the odds it was a scythe too?

Ryoji: Hahaha…. I guess.

—-

Koromaru *bark*

Aigis: Koromaru-san is asking that if you’re Death, what will that make of the Reaper?

Junpei: I bet Ryoji here can take him down, no problem! 

Ryoji: I’d rather not stick around to find out. For your sakes.

—-

Ryoji: I was told you lost a close friend to the Dark Hour. I’m sorry for your loss.

Mitsuru: …Thank you, Ryoji-kun.

Akihiko: He’d want us to move forward. There’s no use dwelling in the past.

Ryoji: I guess you’re right. I’m here to help however I can. 

—-

Koromaru: *bark bark* 

Junpei: Hey… you think Koromaru sensed Ryoji’s true identity? 

Ken: Oh, do you mean because  of dogs’  intuition to ghosts and spirits? 

Fuuka: I don’t think Ryoji-kun’s just any ghost though..!

—-

Ryoji: Hey Takeba-san. Can I ask you something?

Yukari: I swear, if it’s you trying to ask me out again…

Ryoji: Oh, that’s not what I was gonna- Wait, do you want me to? Because-

Mitsuru: -I think I saw something important there, leader. Let’s check it out.

Ryoji: This feels too familiar.

—-

Junpei: Kyoto was so fun! School trips should happen more often. 

Yukari: *glare*

Junpei: Eep! 

Ryoji: Ah-! I-I swear, that wasn’t our intention! It was all a misunderstanding! Leader, tell her! 

—-

SP LOW: 

Mitsuru: Ryoji-kun. Make sure not to strain yourself. 

Ryoji: I’m fine, please don’t worry. I can’t let up in front of a pretty girl like you, now can I? 

—-

Fuuka: Leader… Ryoji seems tired. 

—-

If Makoto has low SP: 

Ryoji: You don’t look good…Please, pace yourself. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.

FTEs: (WIP)

Plant tending event

anddd thats it so far!! if this post ever needs updating, i definitely will!

thank you so much for reading! it really means a lot!

[madds-is-ace-trash]

Nightwing why are you warring a cape? Well for the baby of course! Dcxdp

This takes place in the same universe as my fic Mother of the storm and her star child.

A few years have passed and Danny is completely settled in and moved to bulhaven with dick. Eventually around the time he’s Turing 9 he insists that he wants to go out at night with dick. Dick is hesitant but Danny insist, pointing out how his abilities would make him the perfect recon detective. Dick can no longer argue when Danny beats both Damian and Cass the first day of training and he is out out in the field.

Danny hose out in his ghost form and picks the name phantom because it feels right and now nightwing patrols with a bird if his very own for the first time in a while. Danny is very good on patrols, he sticks close to dick often clinging to him and hiding behind him when dick is interacting with people. He’ll often turn invisible but it still doesn’t fell like enough to dick. He quickly released that he missed the cape and the layer of securing it added when Damien was his Robin.

So nightwing starts wearing a cape, and the people of his city starts coming up with all sorts of theories for the sudden change. The range from him practicing because he’s taking over the cowl to him hiding new gadgets. Very few have seen Danny and those who have are often not believed because, “nightwing had glowing eyes under his cape!” Is not very believable.

He doesn’t wear the cape all the time just when he has Danny, the cape is long the outside is black but the inside has a blue and black feather design so it looks like wings when he glides. It has a feature where it retracts in to a role on his back when he need more freedom of movement. And I’m addition to the cape he now has an extra loop hanging form his belt for Danny to grab on to as the hop rooftops. (Danny can will him self to weigh nothing so dick tends to pull him along as he floats any way)

As the news of dicks sudden costume adjustment is circulating he has to come to the watchtower with B for a mission. Danny tags along hiding in his cape like all the Robin had before him with Bruce. Meanwhile Bruce is totally not going all mushy over his grandson he is totally normal about this. All of the Leagers keep giving dick looks.

Until flash finally ask

Wally: so um nightwing what’s with the cape? I thought you hated them?

Dick*with a bright smile across his face*: it’s for my shadow!

Wally: your shadow? How is a cape ganna hide your shadow.

Dick: no not my actual shadow it’s to hide my bird.

Diana: your bird?

*Dick flares one side of the cape revealing the feathered pattern underneath but nothing else is visible hidden under the cape*

Wally: I don’t se-

Dick: whistles like a bird call

Danny slowly fading in to view giving the league a small wave as he scrambles to hide behind dicks legs: Hello

Hal: really Bruce another one!?

Dick Smiling at the small boy in his cape before closing it : nope this one’s all mine!

Meanwhile John Constantine who is present for this mission is freaked the fuck out. Because that kid with the flowing white hair and glowing freckles is definitely not human. And worse than that from what he can sense it’s pretty darn powerful to. He watches as all of his coworkers are working to get the boy out from hiding cooing over him.

Clark: he’s looking a lot better nightwing

Wally: Waite you already new about him?

Clark: yes the boy is nightwings child I’m guessing he only is just now joining the team

Diana: what’s your name little one?

Danny poking his head out of the cape: phantom my name is phantom

Fuck why was that name familiar? Oh shit that’s right John had heard rumors of the new ghost king and a prince milling around the infinite realms this must be the little ghost prince. How the fuck did dick end up with him? Waite sups said that was dicks kid, hold did dick?

John: ha Oh my god! You crazy fucker you fucked the ghosts king!

[ew-selfish-art]

DP x DC AU: Danny desperately wants to find the explosion guy. Tim is really good at covering his tracks... he didn't account for ghosts.

The explosions make it onto TV as purported terror activity and most people haven't heard of that part of the world much less ever given a second thought to care about it. The only real reason it gets reported on has something to do with the Justice League and... Danny knows too much.

He's been in training for Clockwork's court (which he's suspicious of- feels like kingly duty bullshit- but Danny is playing along out of curiosity for now) and he's learned a lot about how the living and non-living worlds collide. That means learning about CW's usual suspects- one of which just happened to have a ton of bases around the area Danny was seeing on the news.

It didn't take long for Danny to try to piece together that whoever blew up Nanda Parbat was trying to fuck with the League of Shadows, and was doing it successfully. Less green portals in the world the better, same goes for assassins. But it gets Danny thinking... Maybe he can employ similar tactics on the GIW Bases that keep spawning on the edges of Amity Park. It would at least set them back while he and his friends navigated the help line desk to request Justice League intervention. None of them can leave Amity Park, so outreach is going to have to be creative.

So Danny figures he'll just find the guy. Call up some ghosts who were there, or er, came from there and get a profile and track him down. But the ghosts keep saying it was The Detective. Annoying!

Danny goes full conspiracy theory, gets Tucker and Sam involved, and begrudgingly asks Wes Weston his thoughts.

He hadn't expected Wes to garble out a thirty minute presentation (that had 100 more slides left to go before he cut it off) about how Batman totally trained with a cult and so did his kids. Danny kind of rolled his eyes but... hey, new avenue of searching in the Infinite Realms at least.

The ghosts confirm that Bombs is for sure not Batman's MO- But maybe his second kid would know? The second kid was already brought back to life though, so no way to easily reach him... Danny starts to realize that this might be the work of a Robin now. Wasn't the red one known for solving cold cases? (Sam provides this information- its a social faux pas to not know hero gossip at Gotham Galas- everything she's learned is against her will).

It all comes to a head when Danny goes about the hard task of opening a portal for the guy to come through at just the right time, explain the infinite realms so he doesn't panic and then describe what the fuck was going on with the GIW. It takes months, just over a full year, of random (educated guesses) portal generating- Finally, Red Robin drops into the land of the dead.

"So, you're the guy I've got to talk to about explosions right?" Danny enthusiastically asks.

Tim thinks he's died and landed in the after life following 56 hours of being awake and plummeting off the side of a building into a Lazarus pool. Nothing makes sense about the kid in front of him.

"Yeah, I got a guy for munitions." Tim answers cooly.

"How do you feel about secretly sanctioned government operations that violate protected rights?"

"Gotta get rid of 'em some how. Need me to point you in the right direction?" This might as well be happening.

[kraviolis]

WHY does no one think camila would be super active in her kids' lives!!!!! that she would just immediately dip from the demon realm and not go back unless necessary!!!!! she's not gonna pull a greg universe and step away from one of the most important parts of her kids' lives just because she's uncomfortable with magic!!!! shes a Noceda!!!!!

she would become good friends with all the adults in luz & vee & hunter's lives. she visits the boiling isles several times a week and hosts big family dinners at her house where she invites all of her kids' friends and parents and teachers. her home is always open to any of her kids' friends or parents, whether they need a shoulder or a friend or a break or a hot meal or even just homework help. she babysits king whenever she can find the time to and he starts calling her "mamila" and no, it doesnt make her choke up every time.

she makes a penstagram account with a cosmic frontier reference for her username to keep in close contact with her new friends and she actually knows how to use it better than hunter does. she's the first person alador goes to when he needs advice about being a parent. she has a permanent offer to stay at the owl house or at alador's home whenever she needs. she meets with gilbert, harvey, perry, steve, and raine for brunch every sunday morning.

she and principal bump meet and he is absolutely honored to meet her and he gives her the opportunity to give extracurricular after school lessons at hexside about the human version of beast-healing. she does a single lesson once a month, but does open up the chance for one or two older kids at a time to shadow her at her vet clinic for a day as a little field trip (viney always gets herself at the top of the list and becomes well known around the clinic) and she is lovingly teased by her co-workers for always picking up "strays".

she is one of the people on scene during the gathering of the guards who had all been murdered by their own creator and left to rot in the dark for decades. she doesn't have the strength in her to be one of the ones collecting the remains of all these men and boys who once had her son's face, but she stands by hunter's side and keeps him from falling to pieces and they help make sure all the golden guards all finally given a chance for peaceful rest.

she helps gus with preparing the curriculum for his classes on the human realm in eda's new school. she is there at all of the emerald entrails' flyer derby matches and wears green face paint to every single one and cheers the loudest. she's the one who takes amity to her meeting with the dean of the university of abominations when alador gets fireflu and is stuck in bed. she is the one who figures out hunter's never had a proper birthday party and quickly remedies that.

she meets the elder clawthornes and absorbs every piece of wisdom they give her as if they were her own grandparents. she learns palisman care from dell clawthorne so she can better take care of stringbean whenever luz leaves her palisman with her mom. she gets roped into learning how to carve wood by hunter during the start of his apprenticeship under dell & the bat queen.

her name ends up in the history books of the boiling isles, and not just for being known as the mother of luz the human. she becomes known for being the reason of the sudden boom in witches who focus in beast-healing and the reinvention of the entire industry on the boiling isles. she is known as one of the first people to rediscover and establish contact and fight for the protection of all the basilisks scattered across the boiling isles, who were previously thought to be extinct.

she would NOT just stand by and watch her children come and go between realms with her house serving as the port but not the embassy. she was once that very child, caught between what felt like different worlds, feeling as if she might be forced to choose one or the other because her parents were too uncomfortable with what felt like half of her soul. she would refuse to let luz, vee, or hunter feel as if they have to angle those halves away from her so they dont have to watch her wince at them.

camila noceda would make an effort to make the demon realm a part of herself, too, so that no matter where her kids settled themselves down in the future, they would still always feel at home with her.

[icingred]

can you tell me about lore of Reverse Cookie run au?

white lily cookie,Pure vanilla cookie,dark cacao cookie,hollyberry cookie and Golden cheese cookie (You may pick any ancient as youre choice)

MAANN I LOST MY ACCOUNT OF COOKIE RUN KINGDOM I JUST HAS WHITE LILY COOKIE,AND NOW MY ACCOUNT IS GONEEEE

(TW:grammer english suck to me)

I'm SO SORRY TO WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR ACCOUNT NOO 😭

(Have an uncolored ver. Because I'm still unhappy with the color palettes I have rn so uh.. Also beware that this AU will go through changes because it depends on the canon storyline :dies:)

~ Reverse AU Ancients ~

There were once five great heroes who were granted the lights to protect this world. The light of Truth, Passion, Resolution, Abundance, and Freedom. These heroes used their mighty powers to spread peace and prosperity all over Earthbread.

However, that light was soon put out and overshadowed by darkness. One night, a red moon rose over four Soul jams, cursing them with devastating results. And the heroes no longer lived up to their names. Instead of the peace they've sworn to maintain, they brought destruction, havoc, and fear.

Only one hero managed to keep herself safe from the moon. Yet her name was completely erased by the evil four.

The new beasts:

The red moon has not only infected the Soul Jams with the darkness, but has also cursed the heroes themselves. Their harm varies for each Ancient.

Pure Vanilla Cookie

“Let the new, darker Earthbread be born!”

The bright cookie, who once possessed the light of Truth, was cursed to see whoever dared to say his name out loud. Horror and bitterness replaced the comfort and warmth that he exuded.

He remained to cherish his friendship like he always did, just in a different way

Dark Cacao Cookie

“Enter my realm, where darkness protects and glory awaits! Hahaha!”

A prideful cookie with the light of Resolution soon became the sinister, apathetic shadow that loomed above his kingdom of Cacao. After the dark night, his dough began to slowly rot away as though he lived.

Although his wish for protecting Cookiekind perished, his love for heels still hasn't

Hollyberry Cookie

“I must prove I’m better than they think”

Hollyberry Cookie was no longer recognized as the gentle hero with the Light of Passion but as the beast of hopelessness and sloth. She was cursed with constant hunger. If given the chance, she'd devour anything.

She believes eating cookies will make her a half-god who's above all others, since the witches, the gods, created cookies to eat.

Golden Cheese Cookie

“Obey those above you and you shall be rewarded”

Generosity and gratitude gifted her the heroic light of Abundance, which soon led to a darker path to destruction.

The strict queen still loved anything that glittered, but the moon's curse blinded her to an eternity, preventing her from seeing light.

She spends most of the time away from her Kingdom, leaving the job up to the Golden Guardians

~~

No WL for now haha

[alicesivory]

Old Habits Die Hard [4/?]

Previous Chapter // Main Masterlist // Next Chapter

Pairing: Nightwatch! Aemond Targaryen x wildling female! Reader

Genre: Historically accurate Aemond

WC: 3370

Summary: Aemond ventures beyond the Wall.

“Your hair looks nicer when it’s braided now.”

It seemed that the she-wildling could not keep her mouth shut. Rolling his eyes, Aemond changed the subject quickly, “How long ‘til we reach your people’s camp?” Aemond asked. “Just keep the horse in a steady pace up ahead and we’ll reach them in no time,” she answered him whilst comfortably sitting in front of him, between his arms that held the reins of the stallion. The reins were relaxed, and the stallion responded effortlessly to his light guidance through the cold and dark forest. The forest stands in eerie silence, its dense canopy casting a perpetual twilight over the twisted, gnarled trees. Shadows dance menacingly across the forest floor, where fallen leaves and branches lie in disarray, as if disturbed by some unseen force. The trees themselves seem alive, their bark scarred and contorted into grotesque shapes, carrying with it the faintest whisper of forgotten secrets, and the occasional creak or groan of the wood echoes through the stillness, adding to the sense of foreboding. 

No wonder they call this the haunted forest. 

“What lies in these woods?” Aemond asked once again. “Wild animals, mostly. But we don’t really hunt at night. It's a bad omen,” she replied. “Sometimes we see them at night, that’s where they emerge.” Her words made Aemond wonder, “Who do you speak of?”

“What do you think the walls were made for?”

Aemond thought for a moment. 

“To keep your kind away from entering the realm,” he said, hesitantly. Not quite confident with his answer. For he knew that the wall’s purpose was more than just keeping a few wildlings out of Westeros but, he does not know what. “It wasn’t even built because of us. My people were separated from yours because we were unlucky enough to live beyond the wall when it was built,” she explained. “It was the others that they were afraid of.”

“Others? Other tribes?”

“No. The undead.”

Chills ran down from Aemond’s spine.

The White Walkers. 

He has read countless books about the white walkers and the long night. How the battle for the dawn unfolded, yet all he knew was that it was all a myth. A fairytale. Stories to scare your child so they would sleep for the night. He recalled how the White Walkers were first written and mentioned during the Age of Heroes. Born of powerful and untested magic, they were created to protect the Children of the Forest during their war with the First Men. What once used to be puppets and soldiers for the Children of the Forest, the magic within the white walkers took a turn and rebelled against their creators and brought nothing but destruction to the realm. 

“But they were nothing but old stories. Fiction, even,” Aemond protested. 

“They are far from fiction, snow-hair.” 

The wildling looked back to him, surprisingly close since they were cramped at horseback. 

“What did they call you back there? I couldn’t recall. Was it Almond?”

“Aemond,” he grunts. 

She chuckled, “I like snow-hair better.”

“And what of you?” Slowly speaking her name which seemed foreign to his tongue. 

“Close enough,” she shrugged with a smirk, looking back into the road. Aemond wondered once again of the undead she mentioned. Were they lurking behind the old trees of this very forest? Were their lives at stake when they stepped their foot to this forest. “They took my brother,” she said, capturing Aemond’s attention. “The undead?” She nodded at his question. “He seemed to forget about time that day. But what kind of child remembers time, really? They wanted to play all day. So he did, running inside the woods without me or my mother’s attention, wanting to become a great hunter who enters the forest with no fear like my father. And he never came back.” 

He felt sorry for the girl, for he himself had felt the same kind of grief when he heard of Aegon’s death. Especially when they could’ve done something to prevent their deaths. “Sometimes I wonder if they buried him at all. If they did, I wonder where they buried him,” she said, spacing off into the distance. “There is no sympathy from the dead. Nor do they care for the living,” he said to her. “I know. But I’d like to think they did. He was just a child.” 

The whole ride quickly became gloomy and sour as the pair battled their grief as bad memories and remorse overcome their thoughts. “Does that stop you from hunting in the forest?” Aemond asked, trying to bring peace to her. “No, not really. I think I became eager to hunt here. Maybe one day I can find him well and just…cleverly hiding between trees,” she said with a bitter chuckle, sensing her denial of her brother’s disappearance. A sense of protectiveness washed over Aemond, knowing what it felt like to see light in the midst of darkness. Denying the truth to comfort yourself. He knew of that feeling. 

“Maybe one day you would. One day.”

Crack. Swish. 

“What was that?” 

Crack. Crack. Crack. 

“A wild beast?” Aemond asked. 

A figure emerging slowly behind the tree as they pass. “That is no beast,” the wildling alarmingly said, taking over the reins and snapped it making their horse gallop through the dark forest. “I would’ve preferred it to be a wild beast so we can take it home, yet you and I know that is no beast, snow hair,” she spoke as the harsh winds of the north hits their faces. Aemond looked back, seeing two..three...four figures catching up onto them. 

“How do we escape them?” He asked. 

“Hold on tight.” 

She took a turn in a swift motion, galloping off the road going between trees. In hopes for them to stop gaining on them. The wildling kept snapping the reins ordering the horse to go faster with only the moon being their source of light. “C’mon…c’mon…,” he heard her grunting as she took a glance behind and saw some still following their tracks. Galloping between trees, their horse finally took them to safety at the edge of the forest, to a clear opening. 

Making Aemond have a clear vision of the undead. 

Their skins were pale, almost blue. 

They look like humans yet they were not at the same time. 

The creatures frightened him more than anything else, but as they neared the edge of the forest, the White Walkers ceased their pursuit and vanished behind the trees. Aemond exhaled deeply, relieved that they had escaped the forest unharmed. Suddenly the horse neighed, abruptly stopping. Making both of them grunt in pain when they nearly fell. “What’s wrong?” The wildling asked the horse before an arrow striked a tree behind them. They looked around, trying to find any signs of life. 

“What are you doing?” Aemond hissed when she stepped down from the horse. “Where’s my dagger?” She whispered, ignoring his previous question. Aemond sighed, tossing her the dagger beneath his black cloak. Catching it with ease, she spoke into the air,

“It’s only me! Gruff? Yuri?” Aemond was curious about those people she called out. Were they one of her people? Who were they?

“Blimey kid, you scared the shit out of us!” 

A loud booming voice suddenly said, emerging from the snowy ecosystem. Their thick fur coats also seemed to be efficient for camouflage. Aemond saw how his peculiar she wildling smiled brightly when she spotted her friend, running towards the tall red haired man giving him a tight hug making them both laugh as he picked her up in his arms. 

Aemond rolled his eye.

“Thought you were gone for! We saw those creepy dead people- thank the gods!” The red haired wildling said, ruffling her hair. “Oww! No! Do you think that low of me, old man?!” She asked with a laugh, shoving the man away from her. “Oi, I'm not that old, young lady.” Locking her head once again with his arm. “Yuri! Look who just came back from the dead!” The red haired shouted, now another wildling emerged from the opening. His hair was blonde, almost as light as the hair of the Lannisters. “We really thought you were dead, kid,” Yuri said, patting her shoulder. 

Who were they? Why were they awfully close with her? 

From what he witnessed, a young woman could only interact like this with the opposite gender if they were siblings or wedded. Even he never saw any of his wedded acquaintances interacting this way. Were they her siblings? They don’t seem to resemble one another, were they bastards? Did they came from different mothers?

Aemond cleared his throat, stepping down from his horse, interrupting their reunion. 

“Ah yes- Gruff, Yuri, this is ehm..Aemond Targaryen. The man that I spoke of to the both of you,” she said. The red haired, who was named Gruff looked Aemond from head to toe. “Gruff and Yuri are my hunting friends. We’ve been hunting together since we were children and fun fact, we have the same grandsire.”

Gruff slowly approached the one eyed prine, keeping an eye on him. Aemond straightened his back to appear taller, gripping the handle of his sword, preparing himself. Once Gruff stopped in front of him, their noses bumping into each other, he spoke, 

“Did your mum fucked a snowman?”

“I beg your pardon–,” Aemond stepped closer, ready to draw his sword out.

“–Alright that’s enough!” She quickly stepped between the two men. “What Gruff was trying to say was, how is your hair silver?” She asked. "My father, my grandsire, my great-grandsire—all of them had silver hair," Aemond hissed, his gaze fixed on the red-haired wildling. "How did they end up with silver hair?" the red-haired wildling asked, crossing his arms. Aemond couldn't believe how absurd this conversation had become. Frustrated, he let his hands drop. "We're from old Valyria," Aemond explained with resignation. "It's simply a trait we have—silver hair is just part of who we are."

“Valyria? What’s that?” The blonde wildling asked curiously. “It's a place far from the north, Yuri– Now come on! We must bring him to the Chief.” Walking past them, she held the horse’s reins and started walking ahead. Gruff purposely bumped Aemond’s shoulder as he passed through the one eyed prince. Aemond rolled his eyes again, resigned to the childish behavior of these people, before catching up and walking alongside her. Compared to the two wildlings, he found her more tolerable. At least she didn’t ask pointless questions.s. “I have told our Chief about you,” she said. “I am sure he will take it easy on you,” she said.

 “Does he takes it easy with anyone else?”

“No, not really. He’s quite rude if you ask me.”

“As rude as your friend there?” Aemond chuckled bitterly.

“You’re in for a ride,” she chuckled, patting Aemond’s shoulder. 

As much as Aemond would like to worry, he could not as he knew that she was the one who brought him to her people. For her people needed him, not the other way around. He hoped that this agreement would be the means for her to fulfill her promise and return him to Westeros once and for all. Additionally, he couldn’t help but notice her diminutive stature compared to his own—she barely reached his shoulder, smaller than any lady from Westeros yet possessing a fierceness and demeanor that defied conventional femininity. A smirk tugged at his lips.. 

And there he saw it. In the vast expanse of snow-covered terrain, a tribe lives a nomadic life, their existence marked by resilience and adaptability. Their tents, typically made of sturdy animal hides or woven materials, scattered across the field. The tents are insulated with layers of fur and cloth, designed to withstand the biting cold. The camp itself is a lively hub of activity despite the harsh environment. Smoke curls up from several central hearths, where fires are kept burning to provide warmth and to cook meals. The scent of roasting meat and simmering stews mingled with the crisp, cold air when he stepped closer to them.

Like when he first entered Winterfell, all eyes fell upon him, following him as he walked side by side with her. “It seems you have captured the people’s attention,” she teased with a cocky smile. “Why is it because of my hair or my eye?” He asked. “Neither. It’s your attire.” Aemond looked down to his clothing. Of course, he’s still dressed like a member of the night’s watch.

“We hate the crows in here, so it’s better for you to strip those clothes after you meet our Chief,” she said, giving him a wink. Before he could protest, a snow hit his cloak, making him flinch. Turning around, he saw a couple of children running around, even snickering at his presence. “Careful now boys!” She chuckled, greeting some of those children. “Never seen a crow, huh?” She crouched down, talking to the children surrounding her. 

“He only has one eye!” One of the children tried to whisper to her. “Scary, isn’t he? Tell you what, I’ll let you pick on him when I’m not around,” she said to the kids, making them snicker and giggle in excitement. 

She was really good with children. 

Throughout his life, he rarely sees his mother or even his sister being this natural with children. It makes him wonder if she has one. 

“For the meantime, can all of you keep an eye on our horse?” Offering the rein to the children, in which they eagerly accepted before taking the horse away. Aemond curiously kept his eye on the horse as the children led it away. “Don’t worry, they are very gentle with horses. They know their purpose,” she reassured him before she started to walk once more. 

Approaching one of the biggest tents in the area, the spearwife stops beside him, “If the Chief likes you, you’ll live another day.” Before smiling mischievously stepping inside the tent. Slightly on edge, he hesitated to follow them inside. But he would not cower in fear and enter anyways. Reminding himself to keep himself in check if he wants to go home. He stepped inside, his eye falling onto a man sitting in his chair as his companions surrounded him, whispering to each other. 

“Chief, I would like you to meet the crow I spoke of. This is Aemond Targaryen,” she introduced him. Aemond nodded with respect to their chief, an older wildling who carefully inspected Aemond, standing up from his seat. “Targaryen,” he said. “A peculiar tribe. Was it true that your family had power over dragons?” The Chief asked in which Aemond instantly nodded, “Yes, my Lord.”

All of them chuckled humorously. 

“Lord? I’m flattered to be called a Lord,” the chief said in humour. 

“So, where is your dragon now?”

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Aemond spoke. 

“She was killed at war.” A sense of bitterness, trying to mask his grief and sadness for Vhagar’s death. 

“A shame,” the Chief said. 

A pregnant pause.

“I want everybody out of this tent.” Aemond’s eyes widened. Was he going to be murdered? Did he not fulfil the Chief’s expectations? 

“But Chief–,” 

“–Especially you, girl. I shall talk to you when I’m done with this crow.”

Aemond instantly locked his eye with hers. Even her expression was unreadable as she hesitantly turned around to exit the tent. She gave him a nod, giving him support before leaving him alone with the Chief. Aemond turned his gaze back to the Chief who was crossing his arms inspecting Aemond from head to toe. 

“The girl likes you,” the Chief chuckles. “If it wasn’t for her you’d probably be dead by now. Killed by those crows.” Aemond kept his expression stoic as he brushed off the Chief’s words. “Speaking of crows, she told me you were forced to be one. Was that true?”

Aemond nodded.

“Yes, Chief.”

“What was your crime?”

“I was called a traitor to the Starks. Yet I beg to differ, for it was them who were traitors,” Aemond bravely said. 

“Traitors to whom?”

“The Throne. My brother.”

“Your brother? Your brother sat on a throne?”

“Yes, Chief.”

“That makes you a prince, then.”

A title he deeply missed. Aemond stood proudly, straightened his back as he kept his chin up high. 

“I am–,”

“You were.” 

“For you are currently not in Westeros, my boy. You are beyond the wall. Everyone beyond the wall fights for survival. For nature does not care if you’re a king or a criminal. And so far as I know, you stand before me,” the Chief said, telling Aemond to abandon his title as prince. “Where does your loyalty lie, boy?” The Chief asked, stepping closer to the one eyed prince. “To the crows?–”

“–No,” Aemond spoke with no hesitation. 

“The Starks?”

“Never.”

The Chief hummed in agreement. “The girl told me you wished to be rewarded. To go back to your family.” Aemond nodded, wishing nothing more than that. “So you’re loyal to your family,” he pointed out.

Aemond nodded. 

“Good. A man should always stay loyal to his family.”

He poured his drink onto his cup, “But will you stay loyal to us as you serve my tribe? And lead us to victory?” Aemond looked down, seeing the cup lent to him. Offering a friendship– an alliance– trust. Trusting a wildling. It seemed impossible for him, but he recalled simple questions by those wildlings about his hair. They were a simple tribe, living out of the complicated politics of Westeros. He could outsmart them easily and they’re offering him friendship. 

She paced back and forth in front of the Chief’s tent, waiting for the Targaryen to exit the tent unharmed. “You seemed stressed, kid,” Gruffed snickered, crossing his arms as he took notice on worried expression. “Of course, I am,” she said, stopping her steps abruptly. “May I know why?” He chuckled.

 “Is it because of the crow?–”

“–He is not a crow. He loathes the crows as much as we do.”

Gruff chuckled amusingly. 

“And? I bet Chief will tolerate him–,”

“–What if he doesn't? What if he beheaded that man and puts him on a spike?!–”

“–So what? What if he were beheaded? You should not care for that outsider—,”

“–I don’t care about him! I-I-I just want what’s best for our people–,”

“–You like him,” Gruff points at her with a mocking laugh. “I don’t! You pig!” She shouted defensively, quickly slapping Gruff’s arm repeatedly. “You do! You like that snow haired boy!” Gruff kept pointing at her as he teased her. The young she wildling grunts in frustration as he denies her feelings for the Targaryen. “If you speak of this one more time, I will kill you in your sleep, Gruff.” 

“Oooh you’ll kill me in my sleep, eh? Right, sure you don’t like that boy, surely if he one day betrays us will you kill him in his sleep?”

“I will. And I’ll cut off his cock and hang it in front of your tent,” she speaks bluntly. 

“Right, you sure you won’t use that for anything else?”

Her face turned red before she threw a hard punch across the red haired’s face. Groaning in pain, Gruff still laughed at her being so flustered with his words. “Why do you like him anyways? Is it because of his hair? His eye? Ooh his other eye, the sapphire?” Gruff asked, sitting up curiously looking at his friend. “For the last time, I do not like our new comer,” she repeated herself. “Keep telling that to yourself, kid. If I see silver haired babies one day–.”

The tent opened, Aemond stepping out of the tent.

Unharmed. 

“Ah, so he gave you a chance to live another day,” she said quickly, changing her once worried demeanour into the confident young wildling she is. Aemond could only nod, towering over her. “I shall, and I will.” 

His purple eye fixed on hers, “Where can I find new clothes?”

a/n: stay tuned for the next chapter and I apologize if this is not my best work but😊✨

[feukt-42]

Elden ring + Shadow of the Erdtree lore thoughts

Alright, so, first off, obviously, spoilers ahead.

I've been thoroughly enjoying and getting my ass kicked by SotE and what ive seen of the lore so i wanted to ramble about it.

I specifically wanted to talk about how Elden Ring explores power and godhood.

In the base game, godhood isnt seen as inherently bad. Marika's golden order is fucked up six ways to sunday, but the blame mainly rests on Marika's shoulders it seems. She's a genocidal homewrecking war-mongerer who threw two of her children in the sewers bc of racism, she's not a good god, but it doesnt portray the problem as her being a god, just her being a mess. The game provides several "solutions" to unfuck everything :

Ranni's ending has you completely throw the system in the trash. She says, fuck it, godhood's the problem, im out of here. She is kinda right, but the lands remain fractured and the power vacuum left behind is going to be immense. We're on the right track but could be better.

The frenzied flame ending is just pure concentrated nihilism so i think we can move past it for this one.

The bunch of other endings are fairly similar : you beat Marika/Radagon's ass and you impose yourself as Elden Lord to keep her in check and fix the issues you see as most important. This doesnt fix anything long-term, the god in power is still the exact same fucking mess but with a chaperone now i guess.

None of these endings are very satisfying, they all leave you with a sense of "it could be worse i guess" (except the frenzied flame one but you get the point). This is where Miquella comes in :

Everything we hear about Miquella sounds great. He's kind, compassionate, against racism, doesnt like violence, etc etc. Cherry on top, he's even one of the characters with a direct shot at godhood, brilliant ! Why cant we just put him in charge, he'll do much better than the absolute wreck we have right now.

And thats where the base game leaves us, Marika is a fucked up mess of a person, and the obvious solution is to put the much better Miquella in her place.

Shadow of the erdtree, on the other hands, aims to set the record straight. The problem wasnt just Marika, the problem is inherent to godhood in and of itself.

In SotE, we see the land of shadow, the realm where Marika came from and ascended to godhood, and the realm where Miquella intends to do the same. And the more we hear about who Marika was before in snippets of lore, and the more we watch Miquella tread the road to godhood, we realise something :

There is no such thing as a good god

It doesnt matter how kind and compassionate you were, what your morals were, who you loved, who you loathed, none of it matters because you cannot grasp the power to become a god without sacrificing who you were before.

In the dlc we see Miquella shed more and more of himself, his flesh, his arms, his eye, his heart, his doubts, his fears and even his love. Miquella has shorn so much of who he was that he formed an entire new person (St Trina) from it. Some of him remains, he still wishes for a kinder world, but he cant sacrifice anymore of himself for it. Now he has to start sacrificing others.

Miquella was always blessed with the ability to charm others, and he sees it as the least painful path to make others do as he wishes. And so he charms his sister, he charms Mohg, he charms Radahn, his followers, Leda, Moore, Thiollier, Freyja, the hornsent, Ansbach, and everyone he can convince to give themselves up for his dream of a kinder world, regardless of the pain they might cause or feel by being enthralled by him.

And oh boy do they feel pain. Mohg is used and discarded like a ragdoll, and his followers and dynasty slowly crumble to nothing as the last pureblood knight watches helplessly, himself entranced by the one responsible after he failed to kill him. Radahn's soul is shoved in a corpse so that he can play consort to a god that is his antithesis, depriving him of his glory and honour as lord of the battlefield. Malenia is left alone to rot after Miquella has no use or help for her, and she endlessly waits for her brother to return. Every one of Miquella's followers has to grapple with those feelings of betrayal, manipulation, and lost memories returning all at once. It is by no means painless.

And so we end up with a god that is not much better than Marika was. On his path to godhood, Miquella has caused as much pain to those along the way as his mother once did, in this very same land that still feels the scars of Marika's ascension.

The only way to gain power is to take it from everyone else, and that cannot be achieved without pain.

[icypenguin]

“in a better world.” ⋆🐾°

ft. tyler hernandez

what happens if your cat teleports to the realm with you too? what happends if a phantom.. got close to her?

cw: blood, drying, crying, breakdown

a/n: first time writing fanfic for sbg! hope you’ll like this one since it has been in my mind for a while… btw- you’re not that close with tyler but oh well… and i know tyler is a jerk but soft tyler has been in my delusional mind for a while :(

“mellow-! ah- d-don’t-“ worry fills you when your cat, mellow, jumped out from your grasp. your were in the house with taylor and ben, searching for the keys of the jeep. forgetting your mission on getting the jeep, your focus now gazed on your cat who was chasing a shadow, a phantom’s shadow.

“w-wait don’t-“ trying to keep yourself focused and not getting hurt while chasing your cat in the dark was a mission, a hard one for you. “ha! found the keys!” taylor shouted from upstairs. ben immediately rushed to taylor to make sure she’s safe, the both of them forgetting and not knowing where you were (I NEED MORE SCREENTIME OF BENLOR).

“y/n- where-“ they reached downstairs in search of you, but all the could find was you, staring at the shined space by flashlight at the kitchen. not caring about the phantom around you. “y/n, watch out!” both taylor and ben shined flashlights on the phantom near you before it could grab a hold of you.

“h-hey are you okay-? what-“ they both stare in shocked, seeing what you were pointing with your flashlight. the lifeless body of your cat in the dining table, with blood gushing out as the phantom plays with it’s dead figure.

your body was frozen, you couldn’t move an inch, you eyes were watering in rage. what did she do to get this? what did she do to be involved in this mess? why didn’t you safe her? all thoughts were filling your mind, your body trembled in confusion while the flashlight escaped from your grasp. neighter taylor or ben were brave enough to say a word. they knew your cat was one of the important things in your life.

it was quiet, everyone staring at the lifeless body of a cat. “hurry up stupidos! don’t just stand there!” with tyler bursting in from the door, their attention was on him, except for you. you were still deep in thoughts and didn’t care about the situation. “ben, go with them first- i’ll deal with this in a minute” taylor signed ben to get the others and the jeep first. as a respond, ben nodden in reassurance.

now it was just you two, your closest friend with you and.. the lifeless being of your cat. “y/n… i’m sure we could figure this out in the jeep.. why not we go there first? doesn’t that sound good?” she asked with a soft and patient tone when she put her hand on one of your shoulder. you weren’t able to utter a word or even a simple “mhm”. you could hear from outside that the others were waiting for you both, impatient and unbeknownst by the situation. “let’s go y/n, we can discuss this later” she took your arm gently after grabbing your flashlight then leading you to the door. but before she could lead you outside, you rushed, dodging all of the phantoms, grabbing the lifeless body of your cat before following taylor to go to the jeep.

once you both got inside, everyone was staring at you and what you were clutching. now tears were falling from your eyes like a waterfall as you stare at the lifeless being. tyler, who then realised what was going on, had a flashback of what happened to him when he was a kid.

steering the car into the graveyard, you all were safe and free from phantom. for now that is. since everyone was getting out from the jeep, you went to the bus, not sparing a glance to anyone, wanting to be alone while processing this mess.

“everyone okay?” aiden asked, looking around to see if anyone was injured. tyler nodded in response, but noticed you were nowhere to be seen. as the others were busy patching up ashlyn and complimenting logan, he serached for you inside the bus. you were at the back, alone, clutching the now cold body of your lifeless cat. seeing your broken state breaks his heart. he never felt this strong sympathy to someone, but this one was.. different. it’s like you’re going through what he went through.

since noone was in the bus besides you two, he took this moment as one to comfort you. he knows he’s bad at it but this one is just.. different. “hey.. are you alright? i mean- i know you’re not.. it’s just- sighs things like this could be hard to handle… especially when you’re alone..” he noticed your gaze were still on your cat that was now on your lap. the droplets of tears falling from your eyes made him want to hug you so bad, but he knew you both weren’t that close and that would be weird.

“having a companion will help you much more in this situation… when my.. dad died, taylor was always there for me. we took care of eachother until today, don’t you think?” he looked at you with a sympathetic look while absorbing all your features.

with all your energy, you murmured, “but i don’t have anyone else..”. sure, you have your parents, but.. they’re not int he phantom realm right now, are they? plus.. they didn’t witness the death of your cat. and to your suprise, he placed his hand right on top of your trembling hands, whose still cluthing that lifeless cat.

“what do you say?” he gives you a reassuring look and the warmth that you just needed at that point.

at first, you didn’t understand what he was talking about but- “having you as my companion?” you let out a trembling voice. as a response, he nodded his head at you and made sure you feel safe and sound.

none of you both knew what to do next.. do you just- talk it out- forget everything happened- hug eachother? uhh.. things were going a bit awkward..

the wind was getting colder and colder as it busts more air into the school bus. the others were still outside, talking about the incident earlier. and since you can’t hold it in anymore, you busted into warmth while clutching on to tyler’s shirt, holding my fiercely, scared to let go. “thank you..” his eyes widened at the sudden touch but then melted into it along with you. he wrapped his arms around your being and held you closely too.

even though you both were not that close, after this incident, it felt like as if you two have known eachother since birth.

“you know.. i don’t know if this will make you feel better but.. when my dad died, i thought, it’s okay.. he’s in a better place now.”

!bonus!

after a while, you fell asleep since everything was too much for you to handle right now, especially at the phantom realm. even though you’re unconscious, tyler was still holding you like a baby, keeping your safe in his arms, unharmed. he totally forgot the others were there- even though they weren’t at the bus but they were still there. his mind drifted off to your slumbering self as he discovers the features of you closely. but soon, click! was heard near you both. aiden was holding out the camera he found out of nowhere and was purposely working- shhh! signaled an irritated tyler whose annoyed by his friend’s behaviour. though, quiet giggles were heard from them… guess this incident will lead to a much more bigger problem.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. thankyou for supporting! ୨♡୧

[gnocchibabie]

The Realm's Tragedy

Chapter 1 - The Porcelain Princess

aemond targaryen x fem!targaryen!oc

next chapter --- masterlist --- ao3

Summary: Maevys Targaryen is born into a kingdom overshadowed by calamity. With her mother Aemma Arryn gone, King Viserys consumed by grief, and Princess Rhaenyra adrift in sorrow, young Maevys finds herself at the heart of a fractured family. As she emerges from the shadows of tragedy, she must navigate the delicate balance between the remnants of a broken lineage and the impending storm of a new era.

As the dragons dance, the princess must learn to accept an unforgiving truth: All Must Choose.

Warnings: gore and blood, graphic descriptions of violence/traumatic childbirth

Wordcount: 1.2k

112 AC – King’s Landing

The piercing screams of Queen Aemma Arryn echo through the halls of the Red Keep, filling King Viserys I Targaryen with a sickening dread as he hastily rushes to her chamber. The cries are not those of labor but are more akin of an animal in its final moments. The merriment of the tourney presumes outside the castle walls, unknowing of the chaos that swarms within. 

When Viserys finally pushes open the door, the sight of his wife – disheveled and dripping with anguish – has him rushing to her side. 

Aemma had always had great difficulty bearing children – it was a wonder Rhaenyra had even been brought into this world – but this, this was different. All color had been drained from the Queen, leaving only a layer of cool sweat covering her pale form. Hair sticking to her face, breathing labored, and grip weak on her husband’s hand, the King felt his wife drift further and further away from him.

She looked more spectral than alive.

Aemma.

Viserys looks around to the handmaidens attending to his wife, though they skillfully avoid his gaze.

“Mellos.” The king breathes out, leaving his wife to speak with the maester. 

A grim look paints the face of his most skilled healer, “My King…during a difficult birth, it sometimes becomes necessary for the father to make an impossible choice.”

Viserys blinks incredulously at the man before him as his wife continues with her agony, “Well speak it!” His heart pounds.

“To sacrifice one…or to lose them both.” Mellos replies, voice measured despite the chaos surrounding them. Viserys listens to the man describe the technique taught at The Citadel – the barbaric ritual of cutting the babe from its mother, in hopes it may be saved. The King hears his words, but finds it hard to truly listen to them.

Mello’s stern face wavers for a moment, “But the resulting blood loss-”

“Seven Hells, Mellos.” The King took a deep breath to keep his panic from setting in, from blurring his better judgment. 

The Gods punish me…They set an impossible decision before me. 

Viserys looks back at Aemma once more, seeing his wife has calmed, her pain momentarily subsiding. A handmaid dabs a damp rag to the queen’s pale forehead, and she almost looks serene. He thinks of his son, stirring within her, waiting to come out into this world. To be set forth into the realm he will one day rule. 

Expelling a shaky breath, Viserys turns his back to her, “You can save the child?”

“We must either act now, or leave it with the Gods.” Mellos replies.

It feels as though a piece of Viserys, some portion of his soul deep within, withers away at the choice before him.

All he can muster is a grim nod to his maester as he returns to his wife, one final time. 

Aemma, even despite her current torment, finds a faint smile at seeing her husband once more. Her mind is less clouded, her body less addled with pain as she properly greets her king.

“Viserys…” Her voice is faint and wispy, as though merely speaking was a herculean task. 

Tears cloud the vision of the king, though he hides them with a smile to his wife. His Aemma.

“They’re going to bring the babe out now.”

And so they did. 

Amidst the screams of his wife, a sharp steel scalpel pressed against her soft, swollen belly – blood soon pouring out from within the queen like a deep red sea, staining her linen underdress and the pristine sheets below her. Amidst her thrashing turned feeble attempts of escape. Amidst her moaning turned to fleeting breaths. 

The last thing Aemma Arryn experienced in this world was great pain, and great fear. 

A babe, quiet and still is pulled out from her at last.

“A boy, Your Grace.” Mellos replies, though any celebration from the revelation is soured. 

The infant is silent, and the room grows cold. The King holds the bloody, small thing in his arms and weeps for his wife and son.

“Maester Mellos!” a handmaiden voices, “There is another!”

The room blurs around Viserys as another babe is pulled from Aemma Arryn. With a few strong pats to the infant’s back, it’s bawling fills the room. A flicker of life is breathed into the somber scene.

“A girl, my King.” The maester announces. 

A daughter.

Viserys looks at the small, crying baby now being swaddled in soft linens. Muck and blood wiped from her as her crying continues. Tears blur his vision once more, barely able to see the small patch of white hair crested atop her head. 

For a moment, he is filled with the overwhelming desire to name his newest daughter, Aemma. After the mother she will never know in this life. Though, looking at the ghastly scene before him, he thinks better than to condemn the girl to such a fate. 

A name was a powerful thing, and Viserys was a man of many cryptic beliefs.

Aemma would not do.

“Maevys,” he breathes. A new name, a fresh start, a blank page. “Maevys…my daughter. My princess.”

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

To suddenly be an older sister was an odd thing, Rhaenyra Targaryen had thought.

To suddenly be a motherless child, an even odder one. 

The eldest princess looks down at the babe lying in her fine wooden cradle, swathed in soft cloths. Maevys had finally quieted, after hours of squawking and shrieking, as if her cries should make up for the one’s her brother never had the chance to utter. 

Her sister was small, too small for even an infant. Pale as well, as though all her strength had been drained from her from the mere attempt of being born. 

If you could call it such a thing. 

Rhaenyra was haunted by the news of what had become of her mother. Her mother, once so full of life and laughter and love – reduced to a broodmare of a woman. So much so, that it became her undoing. 

The image of her sister however, soothed the princess. Perhaps a piece of her mother still lay before her.

She had a little sister, a girl to love and cherish and tell stories of their mother to. A girl she and Alicent could parade around with and take under their wings. Is that what sisters did?

Rhaenyra leans closer to the cradle. Did I look like this once?

The infant has all the hallmark Targaryen features: silver-white hair and expressive purple eyes. Perhaps she even had the Arryn look about her, some remnants of their mother. Though, only time would tell.

Rhaenyra feared, though, that the girl would not live very long at all. The babe was a weak looking thing after all. She even heard hushed whispers amongst her mother’s handmaidens, that the maester did not expect the girl to live past a week. The nickname, “The Porcelain Princess” had already begun to circulate throughout the castle walls due to her sister’s delicate state. Though no one would dare utter the words in front of the girl’s father or older sister.

“Maevys,” Rhaenyra breathed and watched as the little girl stirred, as though she already recognized her name, “You must prove them wrong, Maevys. You must stay.” Her voice quivers at the end of her plea, a hand grasping the babe’s cradle so hard, Rhaenyra’s knuckles turn white. 

And so, Maevys did.

Author's Note: hello there! i hope you enjoyed this very depressing and grim first chapter (I promise they wont ALL be like this). this is the beginning of what will hopefully be a pretty lenghty fic, which will come to focus on the ~eventual~ relationship between maevys and aemond. this is my second aemond fic (i am not immune to his charm) and i will be updating this alongside another project that is currently ongoing. because of this, updates may be a little sporadic, but i am dedicated to both series :) i hope you all enjoy this story! i have many ideas for many characters that i cannot wait to put to page and share with you all. thank you so much for reading <3