#would like to keep my soul thanks

[leftneb]

the insatiable urge to redraw every single picture of landoscar I come across

and the unfleeting sorrow of not having the time or energy to do so

why must I suffer so in this life

[hinamie]

atla!au designs part 3 !! one of these things is uh. not like the others

first year trio gojo/choso/nanami

[rheakira]

Some doodles of Alice, the Soul of Patience. Featuring also Léo (Bravery) and Charlie (Perseverance).

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

*grabs the Vanguard Vaggie idea and scuttles back under her goblin rug*

OKAY BUT

Imagine, like after they retreat back to heaven, the other exorcists...start talking. They start talking *behind Lute's back*.

At first it's pain and bitterness and betrayal at Vaggie fighting them. 'How could she do this? How could she hurt us?!'

Then, maybe during some hit and run nonsense that Lute has them doing, the conversation shifts. They start noticing that Vaggie doesnt go for the kill unless she has to. Doesn't maim. She always gives them the chance to run, to go home... And they start talking. They talk about those better times with the Vanguard. They wonder aloud why she fights for hell. And maybe, just maybe, they talk about how they miss her. They miss Vaggie. They miss having that feeling of her looking out for them.

I wonder how long it might take for one of them to linger. To lower their weapon. To take off their mask.

Even then, it takes a long time for the first exorcist to *stay* after they should have retreated. For them to ask for a place to stay. But as more and more start to come to Vaggie, to the *Vanguard*, and ask for a home...charlie cant help but be grinning as she holds Vaggie's hand.

ayyyyeeeeeee!!!!

what if there was that slooooow realization that when Vaggie was around, their vanguard, they all felt more like a team together. she liked things done Right and done Well- wasn't bothered with competing- took training and exterminations Seriously- kept them all sharp sure but also turned something that was just Adam's shits and giggles, just a GAME, into a purpose and a duty again. something to be proud of and do their BEST at (while still having fun)

so yeah when Adam and Lute come back with her halo saying she's sided with hell, betrayed them all, damned herself and gets to rot there with them- there's that anger. oh they HATE her for doing that-

because they miss her

and things were better, they all felt better, when she'd been around, and that's gone now and it's her fault

or adam and lute say so anyway

can you IMAGINE in this au, the shift when Lute 1v1s Vaggie... and doesn't come back to heaven with her head?? DOESN't beat her? and Adam's DEAD?

and so are so many of them actually- dead exorcists that vaggie helped kill, that vaggie helped fight off

why?

three years her being in hell and she'd never fought any of them or hurt any of her sisters when they came flying down- (and she COULD have) (used to be one of the BEST after all) it's only when they're sent after her HOME that she fights, almost as if-

as if killing isn't what she wants to do anymore, if she can help it

thats. not the same as turning against them. not the same as her siding with hell- even so lute and adam still wanted her dead, and even then, she'd let lute LIVE...

is that weakness and betrayal?

but she's not weak, if lute couldn't kill her. and she never killed any of them until they came after her. is that still betrayal?

or is it something else

is there anything kind of betrayal here. are they on the wrong side of it...

im not sure, if any of them would take off a mask willingly- risk hell-

i KNOW that even ONE moment of hesitation would get lute turning on them, just like she did with vaggie- worse maybe, now very aware of the danger of letting fallen angels live- HER mistake, not killing vaggie when she had the chance all those years ago

and if a wounded and abandoned exorcist staggered to the gate's of the hazbin hotel? if some of her other sisters went looking for her- KNOWING this time what the supposed 'betrayal' and 'sin' had been?

(a moment of hesitation)

(before one of them drops her weapon to knock on the hotel door)

yeah. they'd find charlie running to help them inside. probably already pulling out bandages- a demon with first aid gear in her pockets, always carried just in case, nothing like they were expecting-

they'd find their Vangaurd waiting there too, having gone ahead and made things safe for them to follow, just like always

that'd be pretty sweet

[triglycercule]

What do you think the types of drunk would the murder trio be? Im pretty sure ask dusttale already answered this question about dust but i have to ask the mtt expert

see now askdusttale DID answer the question. but they didn't ANSWER the question when asked what dust is like drunk. they just said that dust is the type to drink himself blackout drunk. so that mean i have total freedom on deciding what the mtt are like drunk hehehe (rubs hands together in a villanous way that you would imagine nightmare doing or something idk)

i already have an absolutely hilarious idea for horror and it might just because i'm on the guilt section of his character analysis but i could TOTALLY imagine him being an emotional drunk. like he CRIES. horror sans man known for being incredibly guarded and private with what he feels bawling his eye out. he gets mad he gets sad he does not get happy because horror doesn't have the right to be happy. he is too upset over the fact that he fucking DOOMED all of horrortale because of his selfishness and nothing can stop him from being incredibly vocal about that fact so much so that killer had to tape his mouth shut because he wouldn't stop crying so loud. and then he just silently cries until he passes out from exhaustion. the alcohol has an incredibly strong effect on him because i dont think he would drink regularly plus he definitely hasnt drinken anything in those 7 years of starvation. it hits like a fucking plane crashing into him. or like getting his eye taken out again. either one!

another funny idea i had for killer would be like the alcohol affecting him but he SWEARS that he's still sober. he is very confused when he starts stumbling because wtf he doesnt FEEL drunk??? why is he bumping into walls and tables HELP WHY DOES HE SOUND FUCKING STUPID???? the alcohol is definitely effecting him but he swears he swears he doesn't feel drunk. hes not drunk its just the damn body doing this stupid bullshit!!!! he's still very aware of what's going on and is basically the same as sober but just like. he's wiggly he's wobbly and oh shit he just fell head face first into a tv whoops. he'd also have a high tolerance because just because. he can drink without feeling like shit until he just blacks out mid conversation with someone because his body couldn't take the toll of all the beer or whatever. hilarious idea triglycercule thank you triglycercule i know

dust in the context that we already know that he drinks AND he can fight against the human while like partially drunk.... i feel it would be kinda like a giggly drunk situation. except dust doesn't laugh at anything that's funny he only laughs when someone gets hurt or something. SADISTIC giggly drunk. because i can already imagine a half drunk dust laughing his ass off after killing the human and its a beautiful sight to me.

anyways imagine how it goes when you pair this sadistic giggly drunk with another that wont stop going through the 5 stages of grief and another that keeps on fucking falling over for no reason in his eyes. dream blunt rotation but the blunt is a bottle of vodka. i can already imagine it in my head and its fucking HILARIOUS. horror going on about how he caused the deaths of others and manipulated and tricked papyrus while killer is just trying his best to keep his eyes open because for some reason they won't stop trying to close. he is surprisingly getting frustated. dust has long since lost his voice laughing at this and he's just silent wheezing at everything. also phantom papyrus is only making the laughter worse because he keeps on making rude comments towards horror and killer and only he can hear him and its guffaw inducing. mtt amazing friend group you dont get shit like this anywhere else

[brown-little-robin]

my last week, a visual demonstration

[puhpandas]

Watch

(2,984 words)

Gregory dies saving the Pizzaplex from the virus. In return, Evan saves Gregory by giving him the gift of life. Evan is done with just watching. (warnings: major character (child) death (gregory), implied murder, implied stabbing, blood.

Evan had to go fight his Father on his own.

Vanessa had been too incapacitated. Too distraught to come along. She'd woken up not too long after Gregory had freed her, hair greasy and wirey and body weak, knees wobbly. It had only gotten worse after she'd seen the cost.

Theres nothing Evan could have helped with. All he could do is finish things.

His Father had gone down easily. Theres not much you can do as an animatronic on the brink of collapse, no matter how much of your virus is spread across the network. No matter how many brute machines you have at your command. Its hard to kill somebody whose already dead. To hurt somebody who isnt tangible.

All Evan had to do was call in a favor.

The amalgamation hadn't needed any more than a promise. It had thrown itself at his Father, giving itself up to secure that his Father is gone forever. For good.

Evan had promised to set the fire. He knows that Freddy has a lighter in his finger. He knows that his Father is stuck, and is at Evan's will.

Evan has the power to take the call, here. He can set the fire whenever he wants. He gets to choose when it all ends.

He hasn't, yet. He just needs to see Gregory again.

Vanessa has barely moved by the time Evan phases through floors, arriving back in Vannys old hideout. Shes sitting up, but unmoving. Before, her shoulders shook harshly with barely contained grief.

Now, it's like shes empty. Like there's nothing left of her.

After what was lost to free her, Evan understands why.

He can barely look, once he floats next to Vanessa. Gregory is right where Evan had left him, still laid flat on the linoleum tile under Vanessa's hunched form.

Shes almost curled around him, as if to protect him. He cant be protected much, anymore. But he deserves to have whats left of him taken care of.

It hurts so much more than the others when Evan forces himself to look. Nothings changed; Gregory is still unmoving, eyes open and unseeing. The knife is discarded to their left, tossed in some corner to rot.

The floor is a mess. Gregorys blood stains every crevice. His blue shirt is barely recognizable, violent rips and tears litter the area near his stomach, and blood stains the fabric a sickening black.

Evan stares at his face. It doesnt so much as twitch.

He knows better than to beg. He knows better than to hope, or plead, or wish.

He's dead. Evan knows. He's known this whole time. He knew when he'd gone off to fight his Father. To get revenge.

Gregory's dead.

It hurts so much more than the others.

Evan floats downwards, sitting by Gregory's body next to Vanessa as much as he can as a ghost. She doesn't seem to register that hes there, just staring blankly at Gregory. At the empty husk of the boy Evan had just begun to know.

Shes already expressed her grief. She'd yelled and screamed and sobbed when he'd still been alive, clinging to life by a thread, but despite Vanessa's attempts, he'd died in her arms.

They'd only shared little words before it was over.

They'd watched as the life left his eyes. Evan watched as Gregory went still in that way only dead people can. He'd watched as Vanessa fell apart.

It hurt so much more than the others.

He'd just been getting to know Gregory. He'd only scraped the surface. He'd only known Gregory for six hours, but he'd felt like he'd known him for a lifetime.

He'd just been getting to know him, and Evan had been planning to stick around. He'd been planning to follow Gregory. He'd been planning to take the one child who'd been brave enough, smart enough, to survive, and lead him to the source.

Hed been planning on finally doing something. He'd been planning on ending it all, and saving one child out of it. He'd been planning on being done with watching, and doing something about it. He'd tried to help the others, to guide them where it mattered, help them survive, but they'd been snuffed out before they could begin.

And all Evan could do is watch.

He's so tired of just watching.

"Gr-- Gree-- Gregory..." Freddys voice filters out of the watch, crackling and glitching. "Gregor-- ory-- Please tell me you are saf-- fe. I cannot re-- each you--"

Something snaps in Evan, at that. Freddy doesn't know. Freddy had tried so hard, like Evan had, to save someone. To save one person after so many were lost.

Evan has seen Freddy. Hes seen them all. Hes seen how they all wake up the next day horrified at the blood under their claws, and the memories of murdering burned into their code. Evan has seen how all Freddy's been able to do is watch as he's hijacked, unable to fight back, and forced to sit backseat in his own body.

This time had been different. Freddy had been spared. Freddy had fought for Gregory. Freddy didnt just watch this time.

Evan doesnt want to just watch anymore.

Evan's stomach burns, normally, his soul is cold, as lifeless ghosts are. Just a figment of who he used to be.

So unlike the chill hes used too, how unfeeling he usually is, warmth bursts in his stomach, at hot as fire, and it swirls. Unfurling and spreading.

It tingles, prickling and sharp, and to Evan, somehow, it feels like an invitation.

Evan had been the first. He'd been there for it all. He'd been there when Charlie had died. He'd been there when she had given life to the other children. He'd been there when they'd all lost their humanity. He'd been there for the first fire, the second, and soon, the third.

Evan had been the first.

His chest burns with intensity, hot and bubbling.

Gregory will be the last.

He welcomes it; the simmering feeling underneath the film of numbness. It claws to escape, and Evan let's it.

He curls inward, a burst of light shining from his body, and at its warmth, it's like Vanessa comes back to life. She jerks when a glow spreads across the room, twisting her neck to watch it with wide eyes.

He cups his hands gently, shutting his eyes and reaching inward.

The Remnant responds to him. It hears him. It hears his grief, his wishes, and his determination.

Like the others, Gregory never deserved to die. Like the others, he'd been lost to his Father. Like the others, he'd been lost to a long string of tragedy that began on the day Evan died.

His chest opens, a yellow, pinprick of light seeping out and into his hands.

Unlike the others, Gregory will be the last.

Evan holds the remnant gently as can be, and ignores the blatant emptiness inside of him. He ignores how much weaker he feels. He ignores how he essentially just halved his life force.

Instead, he offers the life to Gregory's body, like giving a gift.

It receives it.

The light seeps into Gregory's body, spreading across his injuries and soaking in. Light crawls across his skin, spiderwebbing and stitching skin and flesh together.

The light mends Gregory's body, fixing what had been broken.

Evan never thought that anything involved with his Father could be good. That it could help instead of hurt.

But when Vanessas lights up as Gregory's eyes ignite with life, all gifted by the warmth in Evan's soul, he thinks it's not the magic that's bad, but the man who wields it.

Its agonizing; waiting those few seconds for Gregory to wake up, but the shine that had re-entered his eyes only grows brighter when he gasps harshly, jerking to life.

With a cry of joy, Evan shoots forward, attempting a hug as much as he can as a ghost. At the same time, Vanessa sobs with barely contained relief and reaches out, pulling Gregory out of the puddle of his own blood and setting him gently against her chest.

Evan meets his eyes, and man, do they look exhausted, but they also look alive. Evan cant contain the grin on his face when Gregory's eyes dart to him, seeing but not. Hes still in that stage between floaty and aware, but Evan waits for him.

It only takes a moment for Gregory himself to understand, but then hes clutching back, breaths deep, life laced within every intake of air.

Vanessa is crying. Shoulder shaking sobs that leave tracks down the dirt and blood on her face, and snot smudged across her cheek.

He doesnt blame her. Evan feels more alive than he has in a long time.

"You--" Gregory rasps out before coughing, but despite the fact, it's the most beautiful sound Evan's heard in years. Compared to the last words Gregory spoke before now being goodbyes. "You saved me."

Evan knows that Gregory knows. He knows everything. When Evan shared a piece of himself with Gregory, it connected them. Their souls are entertwined, now.

Evan feels the remnants of true fear deep inside Gregory of truly dying. He feels the relief that its over. He feels the accomplishment that nobody else will be lost.

Evan knows Gregory knows his feelings, as well. Evan knows Gregory feels the grief for the others. He knows he feels the satisfaction of sending his Father back to Cassidy. He knows he feels the anger at being forced to observe for so long.

So Evan just nods, the permanent tears on his face growing thicker and inkier. "I did."

And it's as simple as that.

Gregorys tucked under Vanessa's chin, her stringy hair falling out of what used to be a ponytail. Shes still sobbing, and Evan doesnt think she'd be able to do much of anything right now.

That's okay. Evan knows Vanessa had cried for the others, too. He knows Vanessa had been horrified at the memories. He knows shed been lost for years.

"You're you?" Gregory asks, weak and thready. He brings up a shaky hand and sets it on Vanessa's arm. Shes still wearing the bunny suit; she hadn't had it in her to tear it off when the only thing shed been focused on was the kid who saved her dying in her arms.

All Vanessa does is nod, over and over, almost deliriously. "Yes--" She sobs. "Because-- Because of you."

And its right there that Evan let's himself relish in the fact that they're all here. After watching so much grief and tragedy take place, its finally over. Gregory saved them, and now Evan was able to save Gregory.

He laughs in delight, feeling more hope and warmth than he has in a long time.

Three victims sit in a circle, relieved and alive.

"Gr-r--" Gregory's watch sputters to life, staticky and warbling. "Gregory-- I'm so worried about yo-- you-- P-P-Please respo--"

Three sets of eyes blow open.

"Freddy!"

👻

Gregory and Evan had been alone together all night. Freddy wasnt able to follow them everywhere, and Gregory, with that determination that saved them that night, carried them far. Deep into the belly of the beast.

But its only when they finally haul themselves up when the clock gets a little too close to six, hop in Vanessa's car, and hightail it to her apartment that Gregory and Evan are alone again.

Vanessa, with a little more energy in her step, had followed through with her promise. Before they'd left, she said she would set the fire. All she wanted to do is take care of a few things. Freddy went along with her, wanting to collect his friends when they wake up free of the virus.

It's just the two of them, now. They're sitting (floating, in Evan's case) on Vanessa's couch, Gregory is eating some cereal, since its all Vanessa had on hand, and hes wearing one of Vanessa's too-big shirts when his had been too ruined to keep.

Theres some cartoon on the TV about a girl and a weird blue floating blob, but Evan isnt paying attention. Not when Gregory is staring at his bowl with furrowed brows, lost in thought.

Evan can tell he wants to say something, so he just sits patiently, and stays quiet when Gregory eventually starts opening and closing his mouth, trying to find the words.

"Evan--" Gregory begins eventually, and when Evan looks over, Gregory's looking at the carpet instead of him. "Um... can I ask you something?"

Evan nods. "Of course."

"Kay." Gregory responds, and then sighs, scratching the back of his neck and fiddling with the fold of fabric where his stomach is. "Uh... well..."

Evan stays silent, waiting for Gregory to gather his thoughts. Evan had hated it when people rushed him when he spoke while he was alive. He wasnt stupid, just nervous.

Eventually, Gregory throws his hands down and huffs, as if biting the bullet. He turns to Evan, looking him in the eyes as he asks, "Why did you save me?"

Evan blinks, and looks at Gregory, confused. They'd already communicated everything when Gregory woke up. "What do you mean?"

Gregory fidgets again, glancing to the side and looking frustrated. "Well-- I mean... just, why did you choose me?"

Evan furrows his brows. "Um... I dont understand."

Gregory growls, but Evan can sense it's not at him, just at Gregory's own scrambled thoughts. He rubs at his eyes, before, "I mean--!. eight other kids went missing before me."

Evan starts to get it. "Oh."

"Just... why did you save me?" Gregory asks again, a little more surely this time. "Like... you literally gave up half of your life force just so I wouldnt die. You met so many other kids that didnt make it... I... just want to know why you see me as so special to sacrifice for."

Evan shakes his head, twisting in place to better face Gregory. He tries to convey so much in one motion, his brain swirling with thoughts, and remnants of feeling from past memories.

"Gregory..." Evan glances downward, an old feeling of grief coming back. It's his old friend at this point. "...Nobody deserved to die. Nobody. But... in a way, some of us didnt. I'm still here, and I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. I'm technically living, arent I?"

Gregory nods, but he looks confused. "Yeah, I would say so. But what does this have to do with what I said?"

Evan looks at the couch, watching as his fingers phase through the cushion. "I mean... the others, they died, but they didnt leave. They were still there, but... they weren't living. Bit by bit, they lost themselves, until they really were as good as dead."

Gregory is silent, so Evan continues. "I didnt feel like I was living for a long time, even though I technically wasnt dead. I had my friend. That's what we had that the others didnt. That's how we held on. But when she left... I had to stay for her to, as well, and I was stuck. I couldn't see my family. I was living, but I didnt want to be. I was living, but didnt have a life."

Evan glances up, and sees Gregory's own face looking back at him, eyes sad. Evan frowns, feeling decades of memories creep back up on him. He shoves them down. "All I did was watch tragedy and death occur for years, while I was alone. And I couldnt do a thing about it."

"You were done just watching." Gregory mumbles.

Evan nods. "...I was. So when you came along, and you survived, and dodged death, and saved everybody... you didnt deserve to die. More than the others. After all youd done, you deserved to live."

Theres a stretch of silence, after that. Evan has patience to spare, so when Gregory just stares, probably turning Evan's words over in his head, he waits.

After a while, Gregory tries to set a hand on Evan's shoulder, but it phases through. Gregory frowns, eyes downcast as he stares at his body dissipating at Gregory's touch, falling away like sand. "You havent felt alive in a long time, huh...?"

Theres that connection, again. Evan's gonna have to get used to this; he hasnt been connected to someone this way since Cassidy.

He nods, but in the melancholy, he smiles, and looks pointedly at Gregory. "Yeah," He agrees. "but that changed."

Gregory understands quickly. Evan pushed all of his feelings and earnesty towards that seemingly now permanent sense of Gregory presence, after all. He looks suprised, if his wide eyes are any indication, but then he finally sees the undeniable smile on Evans face, and Evan can sense that Gregory believes him.

Tears swim in Gregory's eyes, and he wipes at them half heartedly, grin on his face. He chuckles wetly. "Would you believe me if I said nobody has ever said something like that to me?"

Evan fractures, smiling. "Not really. I doubt you've met a lot of other dead people."

"Youd be right." Gregory replies. "Man, I wish I could hug you. It doesnt feel right just letting you sit there and be all... ghosty after saying something like that."

Evan chuckles at that, smile wide. "Put your arms around me."

Gregory raises a brow, but does it anyway.

It's funny. How Gregory, a boy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time saved the ones at the heart of the tragedy. He saved everyone without being involved himself, and Evan cant help but feel like Gregory saved him as well, in a way.

And Evan, who shuts his eyes and brings forth every ounce of power he has as a poltergeist, let's his body fall against another solid one, and sink into the hug.

ao3 link

[warriorfujoshi]

sergey is so fucking funny to me bc theyre like a deadpan ex-gangster lone wolf pushing 40 but also they fucking love shrimp, they think shrimp are adorable, they make their own shirts that have shit like “keep it shrimple!” and “prawn to be wild” on them, they love jimmy buffet, if they ever got to go to a beach that had safe water theyd run around and jump and frolick like a dog let off the leash, the people who get to see their smile most in the whole facility are probably the wellcheers shrimp

[feroluce]

incredibly sexy of you to be blankshipping on main and in the tags <3 and with incredible takes and ideas on top of that!

Thank you Anon, it's so hard having the biggest dick in the room, but someone has to do it 😔

As a slightly? more serious answer, I think it's good and even important to have people being loud and proud and totally self-accepting on main in the proship circles. Like there needs to be someone showing the people who got bought in on the anti stances and are then beating themselves up for totally normal things that it's ok. You aren't a bad person just for liking something problematic about a play-pretend character in a make-believe scenario and you don't need to sink into self-loathing over such a thing.

Because some of them are in actual agony over this stuff, and some of them have already accepted this about themselves but are too deep in the anti circles now, so they'd lose their entire support system if they were outed. Not to mention how creepily violent and invasive antis get about proshippers- and as someone in actual anti spaces, you'd have a front row seat to all the atrocities people would wish on you, or maybe even go so far as to commit them themselves.

Like you know how people talk about extremely strict religious parents? How they would try to control a lot of the thoughts and actions in their child's life? And then sometimes even get violent when they didn't comply? All while excusing it as trying to keep them from sinning or being a bad person? It's the exact same thing. And it has a lot of the same effects, too. Antis aren't beating the problematic out of each other. They're just plain beating and traumatizing each other and then making each other into better liars who secretly hang out on the proship servers on the downlow.

And it sucks! It sucks so bad! Because I've talked to people in those exact situations and like. Especially the fact that a lot of them are still young. Like barely young adults. Some of them are still technically teenagers. They shouldn't be dealing with this bullshit at what's already such a tender and difficult age. And it makes my heart ache and my blood boil because some of them are outright scared and there's just not a lot that I can do about it. You can't shield or protect someone from all of that and it sucks.

So like yeah I'm gonna be noisy and annoying and yowl right on main because at least with that I can give people somewhere to go where they feel decently safe and accepted, even if they never interact once. That's what got us the blankshipping server, because our creator was in the anti servers while sending me blankshipping asks and decided "you know what this sucks actually" lol. That's what brought in a lot of our members, because I could yell my heart out into the void here and! People heard! And then they joined the server and found a place they could finally breathe! And it's so much fun in there now!! ♡

Anyway tl;dr thank you dear lovely Anon you are entirely correct I am incredibly sexy and everyone desires me carnally and my dick is huge and I haunt the submas servers with how I live in their minds rent free skzjkdksjd

[todayisafridaynight]

Me and my boyfriend started watching the cutscenes for dead souls and like my boyfriend openly admits just "Daigo has a bromance in every game he's in.. Even this one with majima" Then I saw your Mine Dead Souls ask- I think Mine would just die on the spot just because of Daigo crossdressing (bro died happy)

daigo a popular man what can i say

[nappi]

single handedly made me want to draw more very cool and good thank u

[acourtofquestions]

KINGDOM OF ASH (by SJM)

Chapter 48

THE FAMILY REUINION🥹😆😭🫶& MY SOULLL

But when they reached Princess Hasar's battle tent, when they had all gathered around a map of Anielle, they had only a few minutes of discussion before they were interrupted. By the person Chaol least expected to walk through the flaps.

A moment later, Chaol was glad he was sitting down.

Nesryn breathed, "Holy gods."

Chaol was inclined to agree as Aelin Galathynius, Rowan Whitethorn, and several others entered the tent.

They were mud-splattered, the Queen of Terrasen's braided hair far longer than Chaol had last seen. And her eyes ... Not the soft, yet fiery gaze. But something older. Wearier.

Chaol shot to his feet. "I thought you were in Terrasen," he blurted. All the reports had confirmed it. Yet here she stood, no army in sight.

Three Fae males-towering warriors as broad and muscled as Rowan—had entered, along with a delicate, dark-haired human woman.

But Aelin was only staring at him. Staring and staring at him.

No one spoke as tears began sliding down her face. Not at his being here, Chaol realized as he took up his cane and limped toward Aelin.

But at him. Standing. Walking.

The young queen let out a broken laugh of joy and flung her arms around his neck. Pain lanced down his spine at the impact, but Chaol held her right back, every question fading from his tongue.

Aelin was shaking as she pulled away. "I knew you would," she breathed, gazing down his body, to his feet, then up again. "I knew you'd do it."

"Not alone," he said thickly. Chaol swallowed, releasing Aelin to extend an arm behind him. To the woman he knew stood there, a hand over the locket at her neck.

Perhaps Aelin would not remember, perhaps their encounter years ago had meant nothing to her at all, but Chaol drew Yrene forward. "Aelin, allow me to introduce"

"Yrene Towers," the queen breathed as his wife stepped to his side.

The two women stared at each other.

Yrene's mouth quivered as she opened the silver locket and pulled out a piece of paper. Hands trembling, she extended it to the queen. Aelin's own hands shook as she accepted the scrap.

"Thank you," Yrene whispered.

Chaol supposed it was all that really needed to be said.

Aelin unfolded the paper, reading the note she'd written, seeing the lines from the hundreds of foldings and rereadings these past few years.

"I went to the Torre," Yrene said, her voice cracking. "I took the money you gave me, and went to the Torre. And I became the heir apparent to the Healer on High. And now I have come back, to do what I can. I taught every healer I could the lessons you showed me that night, about self-defense. I didn't waste it-not a coin you gave me, or a moment of the time, the life you bought me." Tears were rolling and rolling down Yrene's face. "I didn't waste any of it."

Aelin closed her eyes, smiling through her own tears, and when she opened them, she took Yrene's shaking hands. "Now it is my turn to thank you." But Aelin's gaze fell upon the wedding band on Yrene's finger, and when she glanced to Chaol, he grinned.

"No longer Yrene Towers," Chaol said softly, "but Yrene Westfall."

Aelin let out one of those choked, joyous laughs, and Rowan stepped up to her side.

Yrene's head tilted back to take in the warrior's full height, her eyes widening-not only at Rowan's size, but at the pointed ears, the slightly elongated canines and tattoo. Aelin said, "Then let me introduce you, Lady Westfall, to my own husband, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius."

For that was indeed a wedding band on the queen's finger, the emerald mud-splattered but bright. On Rowan's own hand, a gold-and-ruby ring gleamed.

"My mate," Aelin added, fluttering her lashes at the Fae male. Rowan rolled his eyes, yet couldn't entirely contain his smile as he inclined his head to Yrene.

Yrene bowed, but Aelin snorted. "None of that, please. It'll go right to his immortal head." Her grin softened as Yrene blushed, and Aelin held up the scrap of paper. "May I keep this?" She eyed Yrene's locket. "Or does it go in there?"

Yrene folded the queen's fingers around the paper. "It is yours, as it always was. A piece of your bravery that helped me find my own."

Aelin shook her head, as if to dismiss the claim.

But Yrene squeezed Aelin's closed hand. "It gave me courage, the words you wrote. Every mile I traveled, every long hour I studied and worked, it gave me courage. I thank you for that, too."

Aelin swallowed hard, and Chaol took that as excuse enough to sit again, his back giving a grateful tinge. He said to the queen, "There is another person responsible for this army being here." He gestured to Nesryn, the woman already smiling at the queen. "The rukhin you see, the army gathered, is as much because of Nesryn as it is because of me."

A spark lit Aelin's eyes, and both women met halfway in a tight embrace. "I want to hear the entire story," Aelin said. "Every word of it." Nesryn's subdued smile widened. "So you shall. But later." Aelin clapped her on the shoulder and turned to the two royals still by the desk. Tall and regal, but as mud-splattered as the queen.

Chaol blurted, "Dorian?"

Rowan answered, "Not with us." He glanced to the royals.

"They know everything," Nesryn said

"He's with Manon," Aelin said simply.

Chaol wasn't entirely sure whether to be relieved. "Hunting for something important."

The keys. Holy gods.

Aelin nodded. Later. He'd think on where Dorian might now be later. Aelin nodded again. The full story would come then too.

Nesryn said, "May I present Princess Hasar and Prince Sartaq."

Aelin bowed—low. "You have my eternal gratitude," Aelin said, and the voice that came out of her was indeed that of a queen. Any shock Sartaq and Hasar had shown upon the queen bowing so low was hidden as they bowed back, the portrait of courtly grace.

"My father," Sartaq said, "remained in the khaganate to oversee our lands, along with our siblings Duva and Arghun. But my brother Kashin sails with the rest of the army. He was not two weeks behind us when we left."

Aelin glanced to Chaol, and he nodded.

Something glittered in her eyes at the confirmation, but the queen jerked her chin at Hasar. "Did you get my letter?"

The letter that Aelin had sent months ago, begging for aid and promising only a better world in return. Hasar picked at her nails. "Perhaps. I get far too many letters from fellow princesses these days to possibly remember or answer all of them."

Aelin smirked, as if the two of them spoke a language no one else could understand, a special code between two equally arrogant and proud women. But she motioned to her companions, who stepped forward. "Allow me to introduce my friends. Lord Gavriel, of Doranelle." A nod toward the tawny-eyed and golden-haired warrior who bowed.

Tattoos covered his neck, his hands, but his every motion was graceful. "My uncle, of sorts," Aelin added with a smirk at Gavriel. At Chaol's narrowed brows, she explained, "He's Aedion's father."

"Well, that explains a few things," Nesryn muttered.

The hair, the broad-planed face ... yes, it was the same. But where Aedion was fire, Gavriel seemed to be stone. Indeed, his eyes were solemn as he said, "Aedion is my pride." Emotion rippled over Aelin's face, but she gestured to the dark-haired male. Not someone Chaol ever wanted to tangle with, he decided as he surveyed the granite-hewn features, the black eyes and unsmiling mouth.

"Lorcan Salvaterre, formerly of Doranelle, and now a blood-sworn member of my court." As if that weren't a shock enough, Aelin winked at the imposing male. Lorcan scowled. "We're still in the adjustment period," she loudly whispered, and Yrene chuckled.

Lorcan Salvaterre. Chaol hadn't met the male this spring in Rifthold, but he'd heard all about him. That he'd been Maeve's most trusted commander, her most loyal and fierce warrior.

That he'd wanted to kill Aelin, hated Aelin.

How this had come about, why she was not in Terrasen with her army ... "You, too, have a tale to tell," Chaol said.

"Indeed I do." Aelin's eyes guttered, and Rowan put a hand on her lower back. Bad— something terrible had occurred. Chaol scanned Aelin for any hint of it. He stopped when he noticed the smoothness of the skin at her neck. The lack of scars. The missing scars on her hands, her palms. "Later," Aelin said softly. She straightened her shoulders, and another golden-haired male came forward. Beautiful. That was the only way to describe him. "Fenrys ... You know, I don't actually know your family name."

Fenrys threw a roguish wink at the queen.

"Moonbeam."

"It is not," Aelin hissed, choking on a laugh.

Fenrys laid a hand on his heart. "I am blood-sworn to you. Would I lie?"

Another blood-sworn Fae male in her court.

Across the tent, Sartaq cursed in his own tongue. As if he'd heard of Lorcan, and Gavriel, and Fenrys.

Aelin gave Fenrys a vulgar gesture that set Hasar chuckling, and faced the royals. "They're barely housebroken. Hardly fit for your fine company." Even Sartaq smiled at that. But it was to the small, delicate woman that Aelin now gestured. "And the only civilized member of my court, Lady Elide Lochan of Perranth." Perranth. Chaol had combed through the family trees of Terrasen just this winter, had seen the lists of so many royal households crossed out, victim to the conquest ten years ago.

Elide's name had been among them.

Another Terrasen royal who had managed to evade Adarlan's butchers.

The pretty young woman took a limping step forward, and bobbed a curtsy to the royals. Her boots concealed any sign of the source of the injury, but Yrene's attention shot right to her leg. Her ankle. "It's an honor to meet all of you," Elide said, her voice low and steady. Her dark eyes swept over them, cunning and clear. Like she could see beneath their skin and bones, to the souls beneath.

Aelin wiped her hands. "Well, that's over and done with," she announced, and strode to the desk and map. "Shall we discuss where you all plan to march once we beat the living shit out of this army?"

[neverendingford]

.

[cntloup]

Gojo Satoru x pregnant!reader

protective!Satoru, fluff, a lil angst, mention of feeling guilty, implied heavy symptoms experienced by the reader

"it's ok, baby. i've got it." Satoru says as he approaches your slouched form over the sink, washing the dishes as you try to get something done and make yourself useful.

you've been feeling guilty during the past month or so, feeling like you were a burden to him, thinking that you would never live up to his expectations. now he has to take care of you. and as time goes by, it will get even worse as your pregnancy progresses. but he's a busy man with heavy responsibilities. you'd be only holding him back. you torture yourself with these thoughts every day.

"oh, thanks. i'll go clean up the living room and do the laundry then." you respond with a forced smile, trying to mask the guilt that's been gnawing at you for a while as you try to keep yourself from falling over out of dizziness.

"what? no, wait! i'll do it after i wash the dishes. you go get some rest. you've done enough." he retorts while gently grabbing your arm, voice slightly raised to stop you immediately.

he is in utter disbelief at your behavior. you should be resting right now, tucked in beneath the soft sheets peacefully. you shouldn't worry your pretty little head about anything, he thinks.

"i haven't done anything all day." you utter in a faintly frustrated tone, mostly at yourself.

"and that's exactly how it should be." he replies with a nod, "now go to bed before i drag you there myself." he adds, maintaining a playful tone, a soft smile adorning his features as he drinks in your beauty. you're already glowing. but considering how observant he is, he senses your discomfort immediately like he can actually feel the gloom and sorrow you're feeling right now like a mother hen.

"what is it, baby? tell me." he murmurs as he walks up to you and pulls you into him by your hips, shining blue eyes staring at you as he awaits a response.

his hand rests on your side as the other cups your jaw, his thumb swiping over your cheek that could be dampened any moment now as you feel tears threatening to spill.

"i'm so sorry." you whisper breathily, voice slightly quivering with the lump in your throat as you look up into his glowing eyes.

"for what?" he asks, confusion evident on his features.

"for being weak. i'm so sorry to disappoint you." you finally spill out the words that have been weighing heavily on your chest as the tears cascade down your glossy eyes.

"disappoint me? i don't understand... why are you crying, love?" he mutters with a shake of his head, his confusion growing even more by your words as his fingers swipe over your cheeks to wipe away the stray tears.

"you're literally the strongest and you're stuck with me. i'm barely even showing yet and i'm feeling extreme fatigue. i've been sleeping all day for the past month cause i can't do anything. and because of the symptoms, i'll probably have to quit my job." you ramble about the thoughts that have been pulling you down all this time.

"wait, wait, wait! how long have you been feeling like this?" he questions with widened eyes baring into your soul.

"eversince we found out i was pregnant. i can't stop feeling guilty about disappointing you." you reply quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it. of course you know you're being irrational. it's all natural to be tired during this time and need help, but you just can't help it.

"you've been feeling like this all this time and you didn't tell me anything?" he blurts out almost too aggressively to his liking, "sorry. didn't mean it to come out that way." he quickly apologizes after witnessing the slight flinch on your part.

how could he not see it? you've been trying to do the chores like regular, pushing yourself to your limit both in the house and on your job until he swoops in and takes the weight off your shoulders. now he starts to blame himself for not finding out sooner and letting you wallow in your own sadness and guilt all alone.

"you're not weak, baby. you're doing the one thing that i can't possibly ever do. the one thing that the strongest can't do. and what does that make you? huh? you're literally the strongest of all, babe. i can't even fathom what you're going through and you're doing amazing-", "i'm barely functioning." you cut him off.

"i'm not done yet, babe." he says playfully before continuing, "you're doing amazing, honey. you sleep not because you can't do anything else but because you need it. you're carrying our child for fuck's sake. a literal human's life is growing inside you and of course it takes its toll on you. and i'm right here beside you every step of the way." he finishes his loving speech with a tender kiss on your forehead as his strong arms wrap around your now slightly shaking form as you sob, utterly moved by his words and also the hormones.

"thank you, Satoru. i really appreciate it. you always know what to say when i'm feeling down." your words are cut off by loud sobs but he patiently waits for you to finish as he rubs your back soothingly while nuzzling his face in your neck.

"any time, baby. i love you." he whispers in your ear, "i love you too, toru." you say back, continuing to sob in his arms for a while before you eventually calm down and he guides you to bed, encouraging you to take some much-needed rest.

"and don't worry about your job. you can take some time off or quit altogether. i have more than enough to pay for our family and the next generations to come-", "ok, stop bragging!" you chuckle, "i'm just saying, baby. i've been dying to spoil you. now's my chance. let me take care of you. you don't have to go through this alone. in fact, i won't even let you." he chuckles lightly and crashes his lips onto yours, pulling away with a loud smack as you both lay in bed, limbs tangled together, "you already spoil me." you mention with a slight pout, "and i'm gonna do it even more. you deserve it, baby. don't worry about anything. i've got it." he says while softly caressing your cheek, admiring your glowing beauty illuminated by the faint bedside light.

you slowly start to feel the sleep creeping in and drift away into a slumber as you mumble a quiet 'thank you', curling into Satoru's side as he holds you so lovingly while you think to yourself how you've been blessed with the best, most loving and supportive partner anyone could ever ask for.

[jacesvelaryons]

Can you write something about Jacaerys velaryon x targaryen wife reader

Where she gives birth to a baby that looks like jace and it bothered alicent but they don't care? :3

Saving Face (Jacaerys Velaryon x Targtower!Reader)

(a/n): i’m sorry this request took over a year but my, what a great idea! i hope you like it

word count: 3.0k

summary: with what was supposed to be a happy moment in the new chapter of your family with jacaerys, only wounds linger when your mother is unhappy with your child's appearance.

warnings: slight angst, family tensions, complicated family relationships, implied incest (the targaryen way), not alicent hightower friendly

request status: OPEN

The joy of his newborn child is nearly eclipsed by the fear that his beloved would be called to face the same humiliation his mother endured upon his birth.

Even in distress, his beautiful wife still looked otherworldly silver hair spun in gold, and with her pale lavender eyes, he would not have that ginger sucker of joy to rob him from this life changing celebration. His relief that his beloved survived the precarious birth, worried about her lithe frame and the prostration it weighed on her during the pregnancy.

His little boy, his beloved son, a fragment of the other half of soul and his own. He is perfect, with his ten little toes and fingers, and he is all his.

Jacaerys is thankful his mother was in the birthing room with him and his wife, breaking protocol (as always) to be with the mother as she went into labour. Without her, he thinks he would’ve been hysterical and lost his mind without her guiding hand and comforting presence in seeing Y/N in distress.

“Where is my mother?” Y/N cradles the babe to her breast, as he suckled in his mother’s warmth and he feels his heart drop to his stomach as her face contorted in disappointment.

The child yearned for nourishment, and the midwives guided the young mother so she could feed the child with her milk.

The Dowager Queen remained unyielding even as her step-daughter arose as Queen, and she was still given some privileges even with her dispute with his mother. The marriage of Jacaerys and Y/N, her youngest daughter, was made as a desperate attempt to patch the two sides together and make peace as his mother sat on the Iron Throne.

Her mother attended the wedding, wearing a dark muted forest green that still appeared obsidian in certain angles, but the flame patterns could not be missed on her gown.

A mockery indeed as if she did not accept his mother’s ascendance to the throne and wanted her small rebellions in forms of cloth, he would not grant her the satisfaction of his reaction, for the sake of the realm and his wife, her daughter. It would be too scandalous to do so.

When his beloved was called abed, all pretense of dignity and calm collapsed underneath him. Whatever confident front he had broke apart as fear consumed him, sweat dripping from his forehead, hands shaking, heart beating wildly as he realized his wife was to cross the barrier between life and death to birth their child.

Seeing Y/N’s clean white robes stained the bed in scarlet as she quickens and the pain increases as the babe nears reminds him of the chills whenever he walks the path from the princess’ chambers to the queen’s, the same path forged in blood when his mother then Princess Rhaenyra, the crown princess and heir to the Throne, had to face the humiliation called upon by her stepmother, now Queen Dowager Alicent.

His blood boils when he sees the auburn former queen walk that path meekly nowadays on her way to see her daughter, as if it was all an act when she had pulled rank and caused so much suffering to his beloved mother. Jacaerys fears his wife, now the Princess of Dragonstone will have to walk those same halls, perform the same walk of shame and mummery with all the courtiers of the Keep to bear witness.

There is no possibility he will allow her to endure the same, he would bring fire and blood to all of Westeros shall she have to face that, yet it brings him relief when he reminds himself that woman is no longer Queen but his mother is, Queen of her own right and first of her name, and yet all the same, that woman is also his mother-in-law, mother to his darling. And grandmother to the child that shares his blood.

Jacaerys never left the side of his wife even when her birth continued onto the hour of the wolf, his hands intertwined with her own, assuring kisses on her temple and cheek and encouraging her when she would cry she wanted to relent. Across from him stood his mother, whose locks resembled her half sister and his wife, an experienced mother who has felt such joy and such sorrow too, with a maternal comfort gained with experience.

He would not allow a woman filled with hate to the brim in her heart to rob him of the joys of fatherhood and the relief of his wife safe and sound after such birth to their babe. Jace felt relief like no other when he began to see the dark haired head of the child crowning, and the guttural, final scream she exerted as the child exited her womb.

Jacaerys comforted and whispered assurances of gratitude and encouragement to his lady wife, that she be reminded how grateful he was of her efforts to grow their family, of her devotion and love for him, and fulfilling her duty with nothing but grace, peppering kisses all over her flushed face.

As he caressed the fine hair of his child much like own while he fed from his mother’s breast, his elated expression dropped as if in a chilling reminder when she asked for her mother. As despicable as that woman was, he could not deny her wishes if it brought her reprieve. Jace smiled and promised her that she would be coming and has been informed of the birth of her new grandchild.

When Y/N was beyond earshot, he approached the young midwife with a hardened gait, grinding through his teeth. “If the Dowager Queen wishes to see the prince, she will make her way here herself. She can walk, can she not?!"

While his wife was preoccupied and in isolation during the last few months of the pregnancy, Jace had made efforts to convince his mother to move the Lady Alicent to the second floor below the palace where the current royal family lived. “To remind her of what she’s done to us and may feel the pain we have endured.” He told Queen Rhaenyra, who was hesitant but accepted afterwards.

Jacaerys marched his way outside the ornate doors where his wife and their babe rested, raising his chin and standing with his chest puffed out, a cold indifferent expression, back straightened and fists clenched white as his wife’s mother made her way up the stairs with difficulty.

In the years since her queenship, the then young queen had begun to develop striking pain all over her body, especially down her spine and legs no matter what the maesters or foreign healers would advise. Jacaerys thought it was fitting for when he would make his mother walk up with him and his newborn siblings, bleeding across the hallways and staircases due to the green queen’s attempt to humiliate them.

Perhaps he is his mother’s son, as diplomatic, gracious, intelligent and cunning as he may be, grudges linger.

He could hear a pin drop as the auburn haired woman nearly stumbled down the final stairs and tripped over her gown, with a few septas rushing over to assist her but he showed no commiseration.

The doors swung open as Alicent limped towards her daughter’s bedside, slightly softening in consolation her daughter was safe in childbirth and the child was kicking like a goat.

“Praise the Mother, my girl.” She brushed her blood-smeared fingers over her silver hair shakily, whispering. He did not miss the glimpse of disappointment when she noticed the dark brown hair of the child, even when the boy had her pale lavender eyes.

Alicent cleared her throat, avoiding the gaze of those around her. “I see that the prince strongly resembles his father.”

Jacaerys’ eyes narrowed in suspicion, instinctively reaching towards the pommel of his Valyrian steel sword. “Is that supposed to be a problem, Dowager?” He stomped forward, hovering above his wife and child.

“Not at all, my prince. He is a handsome boy-”

Queen Rhaenyra noticed the tension beginning to develop and interrupted with a smile. “She means no ill, Jacaerys. Merely an observation.”

“An observation?! She wished to have us named as bastards to replace you as heir with one of her spawns and humiliate you.” He raised his voice, accusatory at his mother’s former adversary, and he could feel Lucerys next to him, pulling him away to calm him.

His wife Y/N, exhausted and delirious from the birth, began to grow pale and overwhelmed from the commotion around her, just as her babe broke out in tears and wailed. The Queen ordered everyone but Jacaerys to exit the room and give the family their space. The door shut with a thunderous thud.

…

Hours later, the midwives finished cleaning up the afterbirth, bathed and cleaned the lady and the child before they both fell asleep in new linen sheets and fed.

Jacaerys never left his young family’s side, despondent he had lost his cool, distressing his family during a vulnerable moment, turning what should have been a celebration into an altercation.

He cringed as he could only imagine what the murmurs and whispers about his behaviour and the events that followed with his wife’s mother would share about him. He had brought this upon himself and his family.

AS Y/N began waking from her first rest since the labours, he turned to her as soon as he could hear her rise from her sheets, reaching for her hands in his.

“I have failed you, wife. I should have protected you but I have only raised in anger over old wounds and created altercations when I should have.” Jacaerys felt his tears brim, cheeks red with ignominy and shame.

Her eyes fluttered awake, still weary from the long delivery but visibly more rested already. She shook her head in understanding with an enervated sigh.

“I understand your relationship with my mother has been tense, for what she had done to Her Grace and your family. But I can assure her she has changed, if she is not with me, she is on the knees at the Sept begging for forgiveness and giving alms-”

“She looked at our son the same way she used to look at me and my brothers as children, when she would use her tongue to call us bastards! I fear she will do the same to you and the boy. What good will alms do if she still wishes to see me and our son six feet under ground for the colour of our hair!?” Jacaerys exclaimed, lips quivering in fear as he felt tears brim in his eyes.

Y/N brought their son closer to her arms, only comforted by the sight of her child and her beloved.

“I will handle her, trust me. She thinks I do not pay attention to these things, but I do.” She reaches her free hand to his, unmoving to not wake the babe and squeezes his larger palms into her own.

Jacaerys sniffles, wiping his tears with his sleeve. “I do not wish to drive you apart from your mother, my love. I only worry about you and our family’s safety, and the throne. That you and our son may not suffer on my behalf.”

Their son had just begun to fall asleep in her arms, and she began bouncing him instinctively, quickly gaining the ropes of what it took to be a good mother. Jacaerys knew she would be nothing like her own mother, eagerly learning from his mother Queen Rhaenyra, speaking with other royal and noble mothers and even listening to wet nurses and nannies on how to rear children best.

“Are you sure you can handle this conversation? Would you like me outside or in the room with you?” He asks with uncertainty, not entirely confident with his wife even with her own mother.

The wife of the heir to the Iron Throne and Princess of Dragonstone nods fiercely. “You forget I am a dragon too. We do not bow to these snakes that suck from their prey.”

…

In the overmorrow on the first day of spring, Y/N had just put her son in his cradle, handcrafted in limestone and marble with seahorses and dragons, lined with sheets of silk with pearls and aquamarines, befitting the future King, and the scion of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon.

She hummed as she watched him sleep, having gone through feeding him herself to the surprise of the wet nurses she had followed through, unlike most royalty. She swore she would leave nursing and care to others if she had no other choice.

Underneath sat the hearth of the magenta and mauve swirled dragon egg surrounded by pieces of coal, emitting whirls of smoke that signified the life alive in those eggs. The egg was special as it was the first from her young ride, a nervous flighty thing who only managed to hatch when she found out she was expecting herself, rarely only having one dragon when most on Dragonstone laid many.

As she hums old Valyrian nursery hymns from the crypts of ancient Valyrian text retrieved from the tombs of the Keep’s libraries, she recognizes the steps of her mother without a glimpse.

In her jade hued robes, Lady Alicent was quaint yet undaunted to remind the court of her former standing as once the queen who ruled these halls. A black veil hid part of her auburn hair that turned to flames in certain lighting.

Her mother grimaces with a smile that does not reach her eyes, but relief is painted all over her being. “You are well, daughter? I presume so is the babe.”

Y/N curtly interrupts her. “The babe is your grandson, my child when I am your flesh and blood, mother. Most importantly, he is the future heir to the throne, second in line to my husband.”

Alicent frantically fidgets with her fingers, tugging at her old emerald rings in consternation.

“Of course, yes. His name, Aemon, is fitting for a future monarch.” She could hear the strain in her mother’s words, laced with lies. All her life she had learned those sealed with malice and deceit.

“You forget yourself, mother. My husband and my children are of the blood of the dragon, as do I. You do not understand the ways of the dragon, in your jealousy of wanting to unseat my sister and put Aegon on the throne. Your attempts to disgrace and dispossess my future husband and his brothers has brought the Stranger hanging over mine and my own son’s head!” Y/N chides in betrayal, voice tinged with disbelief her mother would do such a thing.

“Y/N-”

“I could not believe you, mother, that you still harbour such ill will after many years. My marriage with Jacaerys should have buried whatever disagreements you may have had with Queen Rhaenyra, but you value imbuing hate and division on this house more than choosing the peace and stability of this kingdom!”

“Your husband and your son are unbecoming of what Targaryen princes are supposed to look like-” The Dowager attempted to reason, but was impeded as her daughter held an imposing hand towards her.

“Unbecoming? Have you not glimpsed into a mirror? You are nothing of what a Targaryen queen should be, a mere second son’s daughter who brought nothing of value to the throne, and only sought discord to advance her family. Who replaced the Targaryen tapestries with ones of the Seven in hopes of bringing your radicalism to the rest of the kingdom!”

Guards barge in the doors of the babe’s nursery, their armour and swords clattering loudly in the quiet hall.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Y/N coldly turns away from her mother, even as she frowned the same way she would. “By order of the Princess of Dragonstone with the seal of approval of the Prince of Dragonstone and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,

I order your arrest for treason, and insubordination not only for your past grievances but your efforts to call my son a bastard. You will be stripped of your privileges of Queen Dowager, and turned into a septa who will serve the Seven for all her days.”

The former queen is astonished, struggling among the grips of the soldiers who surround her. “Daughter, you are mistaken, please do not do this to me. For all I have sacrificed for this realm and for your father, you must understand why I am the way I am.” She pleaded on her knees, hands clasped as she cried for mercy.

“No, you have served your ambitions and my late grandsire’s treacherous longing for power and the throne, that you would put the Hightower banners and replace Targaryen customs with the Seven and southern ways, that you would tear the kingdom apart for it. I have given you too many chances, forgiving you and turning the cheek in hopes you have accepted it and at least been happy for me, but I am a fool. I am not as forgiving as my father was to your digressions!”

Y/N paced slowly around her mother, sorrow on her face, but no regret or forgiveness.

“You are lucky I will not be putting you in a cell, because for better or for worse, you are still the mother who birthed me. But you would understand, there is nothing a mother would do to grant protection to her children.”

The princess dazed into the window, grasping onto the rails as she heard her mother being dragged out the halls and stripped of her royal ordinances. She could feel herself biting into her nails nervously after years of no longer doing so.

Jacaerys sauntered carefully, approaching his wife with comfort, rubbing her shoulders and bringing her into his arms, looking down at their son as he slept.

“Was I not too cruel, Jace?” She whimpered, weeping into his arms as she was devastated at whether treating her own kin in such a way was a fatal mistake.

He rests his chin on the top of her head before pressing kisses on her temple. “I understand why this troubles you, wife. As abominable and misguided she was, you still are her blood, her daughter.”

She glimpsed at her son, cooing at him as he quietly sleeps. “As a mother, I want to be nothing like her. My son will never be safe while she is around.”

[monstersholygrail]

With the slow stroke of Demon Priests' cock driving you to insanity, you can't help but look down at his neck. His uniform askew and messy yet his collar still intact as he was so desperate to get inside you he didn’t even bother to take all his clothes off. As you tease the skin just under the collar, Demon Priest shivers, a low rumble moving through his throat in encouragement to keep going.

“Why is part of your formal wear called a collar? A little kinky for religion, l'd say," you moan as he continues his deep thrusts.

Demon Priest laughs into your own throat, his nose rubbing along your pulse point, almost purring at the sign of your vitality. "The collar symbolizes my calling to the Lord."

You think about that for a long moment that's promptly interrupt by the smooth glide of his length along your walls.

“Would you wear a collar for me?" You ask almost absentmindedly, not knowing the extent of the meaning your words hold for him.

A loud groan escapes him, his cock twitching inside of you before he picks up pace. His member now aiming to consume and posses. Your pleasure, your body, your very being. His claws grip at your waist, marking you and making his claim on your soul just as you have his.

You cry out, your pleasure shooting through your body and collecting in your core as your orgasm builds. Body arching up into his as you meet every deep plunge of his hips, you can’t help but dig your nails into his dark skin and draw him up into your inviting form. Demon Priest’s face darkens at the control you have over him, at the ease in which he simply bends to your will.

"I'd do anything for you, you only need ask," he rasps lowly through clenched teeth as he fucks up into you, not giving you a moment to breathe or think. All you can do is hold onto him and let him ride you through waves upon waves of ecstasy.

“P-please wear a collar for me. Want your devotion, love, please,” you whine, a blubbering mess. It’s all Demon Priest needs for that final cord of restraint to snap.

With a ferocious growl that has you jumping in your skin, Demon priest holds onto you tighter and pounds away at your pussy like a savage beast. Your bodies wetly slapping together, the sound overpowering your own moans and groans.

Your mind blurs with an overwhelming intensity as shocks spark through your already buzzing body. If Demon Priest wasn’t already a demon you’d swear he was acting like a man possessed by the way he was rutting into you.

Demon Priest worships every inch of your body, small whimpers leaving you as he caresses his cock bulging in your lower tummy. An apt reminder of how deeply he’s fucking you. Your pussy clamps down on his huge cock and he growls, somehow picking up his pace.

Your body jolts with every thrust but luckily Demon Priest is right there to slam you back down on his pulsating girth, balls slapping heavily against your clit over and over again till you erupt all over his length. Squeezing him and suffocating him with your gummy walls till he joins you in climax. Pumping countless spurts of cum into your eager cunt, your tummy distending with the amount of hot semen he spills inside of you.

Demon Priest’s worship of you doesn’t end there, not that it ever truly ends. He slumps on top of you, whispering endless praises and showering you in light tender kisses and gentle massages to help you through the aftershocks. Blessing you and thanking you for making him feel more than he ever could’ve imagined.

Yet he doesn’t properly show just how much you mean to him till a few days later he stands in front of you in his formal wear with you resting naked on your bed. He makes a whole show of undressing himself, baring himself to you completely.

All to reveal the small collar you had gotten him hiding underneath his clothes. The sight turns you on more than words can describe and you can’t control yourself as you pounce on him and drag his body on top of yours by the collar. Both of you more than ready to spend hours with his body being controlled by your every dark whim.