#Reign of Rift

[protonpowered]

Given that the Imperial Power Suit was constructed before the destruction of the Rubion Forge, and therefore before the arrival of Dr Nefarious, who do we think the original second pilot might have been?

Who would Emperor Nefarious trust enough to pilot his pièce de résistance right alongside him?

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Yoongi Fic Recommendations

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

part 2

Series

In the Margins (a s f) by @bonvoyagenoona ⊹₊⋆ You weren’t sure what he would look like. His writing made you think of a cabin nestled among tall pines, a well-worn cardigan, a scotch neat, and a wistful wisp of smoke seeping into the air from the bowl of an unattended tobacco pipe. What stands before you now is a studio apartment in the city, cigarette butts, coffee stains, and a scowl. There’s definitely been a mistake.

Fix You (f a) by @casuallyimagining ⊹₊⋆ When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal?

desolate (a f s) by @angelicyoongie ⊹₊⋆ you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

One Shots

Set Me Free (a f) by @casuallyimagining ⊹₊⋆ Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to?

back-burner (a f s) by @yoonpobs ⊹₊⋆ sometimes you felt like you were the back-burner of a two-decade-long friendship. how could you ever compete?

Love Language (a s f) by @gukslut ⊹₊⋆ Your boyfriend obviously loves you, but his silence has you questioning if he *wants* you. If you could only get past your damn insecurities maybe you could appreciate what you have.

27 Phone Numbers (f) by @bxebxee ⊹₊⋆ Yoongi has gone through twenty-seven phone numbers over the last ten years, and you haven’t changed yours since high school. 

sweetner (f s) by @taegularities ⊹₊⋆ You used to know how he sounded when you were wrapped around him, but circumstances have pulled you apart and sent you scattering in opposite directions. Feelings shouldn't reappear so easily by simple words, but when you find yourselves in the same place once again, this is exactly what happens.

One Chance (f) by @out-of-jams ⊹₊⋆ A musical genius, a guy with a bad reputation, your assigned partner for your final project. And the last thing you ever would have expected.

Seasons Change (a s) by @taetaesbaebaepsae ⊹₊⋆ Min Yoongi and you, through the seasons, break up and come back together. Nobody said love was easy.

All That Holly, Jolly Sh*t (a f s) by @daechwitatamic ⊹₊⋆ You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?

Now We Reign (a s f) by @oddinary4bts ⊹₊⋆ when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover there’s more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongi’s life, and it’s unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?

take five (a f) by @jiminrings ⊹₊⋆ you're min yoongi's nurse and you have a crush on him, and he gives you five chances to ask him out - he never said anything about accepting though.

The Final - Day 02 (s) by @yoongiofmine ⊹₊⋆ You've been Yoongi's go-to companion for the past few years, well aware that's all you were going to be. Despite your very real, growing feelings for the rapper, you took what you could get every time. Now, you're backstage at day two of the final leg of his tour when another member takes an interest in you. Will it be enough to make Yoongi realize he's got competition?

hello soulmate (f) by @bluemari23 ⊹₊⋆ your first day on the job doesn't turn out the exact way you envisioned

Sugar Rush Ride (s) by @lo1k-diamonds ⊹₊⋆ You produced a song based on your hidden desires for your fellow producer and promised yourself that tonight, things would change. You were done pining after him, but then he arrived at the listening party.

fuck being friends (a f s) by @strawberrynamjoon ⊹₊⋆ as if watching the guy you were hopelessly in love with hook up with another girl each weekend wasn’t enough, he also happened to be your best friend, making things extra complicated. and it only gets worse and worse once he finds you crying in the bathroom at a party one night.

Take One (s f) by @untaemedqueen ⊹₊⋆ There are three things which Yoongi was certain of. One, he was a big star in his field of work. Two, he had a huge cock, one to rival many of the largest names in his industry. Three, he can only find pleasure these days in written word. 

Illicit Favors (f s) by @yoongiofmine ⊹₊⋆ When your editor tells you to re-write the chapters of your book because the sex scenes are weak, suggesting you write them from experience, what do you do when you lack any kind of sexual experiences in general? You go to your friend and ask him for help with it.

Bet On It (s) by @minisugakoobies ⊹₊⋆ What's a little wager between enemies? How about if it's your body on the line?

subscribed (s f) by @aquagustd ⊹₊⋆ you find out that youtube isn’t the only site he uses to satisfy his subscribers. what do you do with that information?

[willosword]

i haven't had time to properly digest it all yet, but there's a certain tenderness in how scavengers reign treats its characters that i really like about it. the show sidesteps a lot of typical survival horror tropes and keeps me on my toes all the time. like i thought sam and ursula's fight in ep 3 would cause a rift to form between them. i thought azi would get weirded out by levi's growing sentience and push them away. but nope, they're all just trying to survive in this strange place. and survival means cooperation and sympathy

[arcielee]

dōna mandia

Summary: Her brothers convince her to play a game of hide-and-seek. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Reader, Aegon Targaryen x Reader Word Count: 4085 WARNINGS/THIS IS A DARK FIC: Targcest, with she/her pronouns, MDNI, 18+ Dubcon, inexperience, fingering, implied sexual themes, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, anal, double penetration, rough sex.  Author's Note: Thank you @hamatoanne​​ for being my muse and inspiring this depravity. Thank you to @sylas-the-grim​​ for beta reading and perfecting. And a huge thank you to @aemonds-fire​​ for helping me with my Tumblr settings that had me ripping my hair out. 💜 Anyway, this is what you wanted from this poll. I hope you are all happy with yourselves. 😂   

Valyrian translations: mēre, lanta, hāre is one, two, three dōna mandia is sweet sister

Tumblr kindred spirits: @aaaaaamond​ @annikin-im-panicin​ @watercolorskyy​ @schniiipsel​ @aemondx​ @fan-goddess​ @babygirlyofthevale​ @httpsdoll​ @theromanticegoist​ @assortedseaglass​ @amiraisgoingthruit​ @theoneeyedprince​ @hb8301​ @lovelykhaleesiii​ 

��Come, sweet sister,” Aegon whispered into the shell of her ear. She felt the warmth of his palms through the layers of silk worn, her robe and her nightgown, with his intimate touch to her lower back to guide her.

She paused for a moment and peered back at her twin. Aemond had covered his one eye, his sapphire glinting from the lighting of the room as his timbre rumbled the numbers off in Old Valyria. “Mēre,” he began, with a slight curl to his lips.

“With me,” Aegon urged, his other hand interlacing with her own to pull, and she could not help the giggle that slipped from her lips as she followed him.

Aemond continued behind them, a low echo against the cobblestone. “...lanta…hāre…”

It was childish, she supposed, but welcomed after the somber family meal earlier this evening. Her brothers then stole away to her chambers, the mischievous grin paired with the suggestion from Aegon that they play hide-and-seek, as they had as children.

But that had been a lifetime ago, long before the internal warfare of the House of the Dragon inevitably spilled its destruction across Westeros.

Her brothers, Daeron as well, had all fought valiantly and victory was had–but at what cost, she often wondered. Rhaenyra was dead, along with their uncle and nephews, and their dragons as well. The smaller children, the ones with the blood of Old Valyria apparent in their veins, had been sent to Old Town with the assurance to raise them with the absolute truth of what happened.

But she knew that the truth would be written by the victors.

Their grandsire served as Lord Hand still, an advocate to reinstate the peace disrupted. This burden shifted on her and her siblings, as Aegon was now king without question, and now the sole focus was to mend the rift between realms, a new age of serenity with his reign. As part of this, their grandsire announced her betrothal to a Northern house, as if she were an olive branch to be extended to the perpetual snow to never be retrieved.

Her pain was written plainly on her lovely features, but their grandsire spoke his words with a sense of finality; it seemed to be no hope to dissuade his mind.

This was how her brothers found her–“Sulking prettily,” Aegon cooed as her handmaiden finished braiding her silver tresses back, dressed already in a pale silk and ready for bed.

Once they were alone, Aegon had brought up this childhood game. What had convinced her, though, was when her twin, Aemond, who was the personified reason knitted amongst them all, seemed almost akin to the idea. His perpetual smirk played at his lips when he offered to be the seeker first.

And now she padded softly along to keep pace with Aegon, breathless, almost gleeful, as they tore through the empty corridors, hands held as they weaved through the silent castle before coming to a door she recognized all too well.

“This is Aemond’s room,” and her voice trailed off with its uncertainty.

Aegon returned his hand to her lower back, his other now grasping onto her forearm. There was a darkness that flickered over his features, but his smirk was quick to brighten, an emotion gone with a heartbeat before she could even register. A coaxing whisper to guide her across the threshold: “This is the one place he would not think us to go.”

It was a room she knew with an intimate familiarity, with an ingress that connected and weaved through the walls, leading back to her own. When they were children, Aemond often would slip into her bed at night, her honeyed tones to soothe him to sleep, and when he had lost his eye, she would go visit with him and listen while Vhagar’s roars reverberated throughout the Keep.

It was tidy, as always, maintained and meticulous, which suited her twin. His musk lingered over, something that was so uniquely his own: the hint of smoke with leather, his skin scrubbed clean with the bath oils gifted from Dorne, the amber and the ash.

It was something that held onto her clothes whenever she would return to her room in the early mornings.

Now, she followed Aegon with timid steps as he moved towards the wardrobe further back, standing tall and solid. He opened to be greeted with the smell of Aemond, mixed with the cedar chips placed to keep the moths away. He then stepped in first, turning to reach for her once he realized her hesitation rooted her to the cobblestone; his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her in, closing the door behind.

It was dark, save the crack between the paneled doors that allowed the bit of golden light from the hearth and the tapers still lit to spill in. Aegon nestled against her, a warmth emitting from him, and her backside flushed against his chest. His one hand moved to her hip while the other began to draw soothing circles against her stomach, an almost tingling sensation through her silk.

She squirmed slightly, an inadvertent hum from his touch; the close proximity and his clashing scent–a soothing mixture of lavender and tea tree oil–caught her breath in her throat. She blushed, her hand fumbling on top of his own, so small in comparison, and he pressed the imprint of his palm to her stomach, the other gripping into her hip bone.

She shivered from his hold, from the warmth that began to pool between her thighs. “Aegon,” she breathed.

He moved to place his hand over her mouth. “Quiet, sister,” and his chin pressed onto her shoulder, his hot whisper tickled with his low baritone and his hold tightened around her waist.

She paused, alert for an indication that Aemond had finally come to the room to find them, but there was only a heavy silence punctuated by the crackle from the fireplace. Aegon burned against her, a pillar of warmth that settled over like a fog, thick with the quiet, almost suffocating in the enclosed space. His hold on her hip loosened and his hand began to trail the flow of silk to the soft divot between her thighs, his fingers moving to trace the outline of her cunt against the thin material.

“Sister,” his tone was dark, but she felt the curl of his lips against her ear. “You are bare beneath this.”

Only his hold on her mouth kept her from reminding him that she had meant to go to bed, but instead she had been caught up in this insipid game–but the thought choked on the fog from his continued motion. His fingers deftly found her slit and he dragged his center digit upwards between, a featherlight touch that seemed to scorch through the length of her spine. She moaned, soft and muted, against his palm.

“Pull up your skirt,” he hissed, moving to cup her cunt fully.

She jolted from his touch, scrambling to bunch the fabric around her hips; the air was cool against her thighs and the wetness between.

Aegon groaned against her skin. “So wet for me, sweet sister,” and he pulled her closer, grinding against her backside, his defined hardness pressing into the softness of her arse.

She mewled and it was muffled still, drawing a dark chuckle of satisfaction from Aegon. “You like that?” and he repeated the movement, his fingers now spreading her silken folds and the silver hair that lined them. “If I remove my hand, will you be a good girl and stay quiet for me?”

His hold only relaxed with the frantic bob of her head and his hand moved to push aside her braid to allow his tongue to run the column of her neck to behind her ear, almost panting against her skin. She shuddered against him. “So soft,” and her skin prickled with the low rumble of his praise, “so wet,” and his one finger curled within, searching until she began to melt, arching against him with a desperation to feel the friction again, his length hard and heavy against.

She pressed backwards and Aegon drew a sharp intake of air before he tilted his chin, his teeth sinking into the junction of her neck, suckling until she left out a small whine, “–Aegon.”

“Quiet,” he hissed again before returning his focus to the curl of his fingers within her velvet walls, to the movement of his hips grinding against. His touch was practiced, precise, and he was now knuckle deep, which allowed the ridge of his palm enough pressure that further ignited the coiled passion building in her lower abdomen.

She gasped with each stroke as he continued his simultaneous ministrations, the mixture of his kisses and nibbles on the curve of her neck, the love bites that would linger but right now brought her to the precipice of something she had never felt before–

–and the doors swung open, where Aemond stood, arms wide, his hair disheveled and his expression unreadable.

Her eyes widened, burning from her embarrassment, burning from her release; she tried to close her thighs, but Aegon pulled it from her, against her own volition and with a startled cry. She trembled from her peak, the flush of color that spilled from her cheeks, to her neck and to her chest, her nipples pressing against the silk and her chest heaving with her labored breath.

Aegon wore his smug satisfaction, pressing a soft kiss to her neck and his eyes never leaving Aemond.

But his sharp features seemed unsurprised by the spectacle. “You are insatiable, brother,” and he grabbed her, pulling her from the confines of the wardrobe. “Your impatience knows no end.”

The silk spilled to cover her leaden legs, her steps staggered but he was quick to catch her. His large palms held her steady, to meet with his bicolor gaze; his sapphire gleamed and his lavender eye trailed her curves, almost admiring. He then dragged her towards the bed, pushing her backwards against it.

“Oh, but I have only prepared her for you,” Aegon continued as he stepped out, his silver hair mussed and his satisfaction bold on his features as he licked his fingers clean.

She wished her voice to not sound so childish with her question. “P-prepare me?”

Aegon tutted condescendingly. “Just as we did with Helaena, and she took us both so well,” he grinned, relishing in the new flush of color that stained her cheeks with the implication of his tone. “You cannot truly believe we would ever allow you to be off to some Northern house as a prize?”

Her heart fluttered with hope, like a captured bird against its cage, and her fingers pressing into the mattress to hold herself upright to look back at Aemond. He stepped closer to touch her, his hand large and warm, his slender fingers sliding to hold the back of her neck, to hold her attention. “I would never allow that,” he vowed, and then he pulled her to stand again.

She had always considered her twin to be handsome, as breathtaking as the sapphire stone he had placed in his scarred socket. It was his melancholy mien that called to her heart; there was a severity that lined his features, that sharpened as the years passed and chiseled away at the remains of his boyhood. After the war was won, she often wondered, she hoped, that she would be given to him, as Helaena had been given to Aegon…

Her eyelashes fluttered when she looked up at him, warming from the close proximity. “Aemond…”

“Trust me,” and Aemond pressed closer.

It was her first kiss and it swept the air from her lungs, his mouth soft and warm and wanting against her own. A soft moan spilled from her and his tongue curled against her own, his gradual pace to allow her time to taste, to allow her own want to begin rekindling within.

Her hands trembled when they reached for his collar, pulling him closer, and he hummed his satisfaction, a vibration throughout; his arm wrapped around the small of her waist, a guiding press back against the bed edge. Her layers of silk were disrobed and puddled on the cobblestone, a heat radiating from her bareness now shown to Aemond and she saw how his pupil swallowed the color of his eye.

Aemond discarded his tunic, his long and lithe form decorated with scars from the Dance of the Dragons, bold colors with some fading to silver. He pressed between her plush thighs, his slender fingers now digging into their softness for hold, pulling her towards the edge until her cunt pressed against the bulge of his trousers.

Another moan spilled from her kiss-swollen lips from the clothed pressure, and Aemond dipped forward, the soft tickle of his silver hair against her skin and his lips trailing the curve of her jaw with an open mouth kiss to the soft divot beneath her ear.

“Lay back on the bed,” was his breathless command.

She trembled to move herself but paused when her eyes darted back to see Aegon in the shadows, still standing, still watching rapt. His tunic was now untucked and showed off the hard peaks of his chest beneath, his hand dipping past his waistline with a slow palming of the length of his shaft, with wine stained blotches on his cheeks.

Aemond captured her mouth, pushing her back onto the bed, his kiss searing with his desperation, his hunger, with the clash of teeth and his tongue curling against the roof of her mouth. She panted, flustered from the attention, flustered with the echo of Aegon’s words–she took us both so well. Even then, plumes of pink bloomed on her pale skin as his kiss stoke the embers of her passion. “Aemond,” she breathed him in, her head light.

He hummed against her neck, moving lower so his mouth could appreciate her curves. He paused at her chest, his tongue flickering over the peaks of her nipples before trailing lower to the soft of her stomach with hot, wet kisses moving towards her core.

She sighed, she squirmed with each placed kiss and as he nestled between, his breath warm against the glisten from her first climax, and her arousal from his touches.

“She tastes so sweet, brother,” Aegon rasped.

Aemond hummed against her cunt, his fingers soft to touch, his lips pressing an intimate kiss to the bloom above her entrance. She arched her back with a sharp cry, sensitive still, and he pinched her thigh.

“Dōna mandia,” his husky tone sent bolts up her spine. “Be quiet.”

Her hands clamped over her mouth as he began to lap the bundle of nerves discovered this night, and he drank her essence unabashedly. His fingers curled within, his touch somewhat similar to Aegon’s but thoughtful, searching until he felt the beginning flutter of her walls. There was the sinful squelch of her wet cunt and she let out a choked sound against her palm, the threat of tears pearling in her eyes–

Then he stopped.

She let out a whine and pushed to her elbows, the flush of rose that tinged her intimately in all the right places, the rise and fall of her chest and her nipples still peaked with her denied pleasure. Aemond watched her, removing his trousers, the hint of satisfaction fleeting with how her eyes widened at the sight of him bare; he then moved to the cradle of her hips, his head dipping with the glisten on his lips and chin, an unfamiliar taste with his sweet kiss.

Aemond pressed against her, hot and heavy. “Sweet sister,” and he sounded apologetic. “This will hurt.”

Once again a hand clamped over her mouth, halting her gasp as he lined to press against her entrance. Aemond groaned into her neck with his gentle thrusts that burned, that stretched as he pushed into her and she writhed pitifully beneath him, the tears now spilling with her muffled sob.

“I know, I know,” his low tone was soothing, his breath tickling the curve of her neck as he continued the slow rut of his hips against her, his hold relaxing for a chaste kiss.

She gasped against his mouth. The burn, the ache dimming with his each thrust and she felt the blossom of a newer sensation that began to trickle through her veins, a coiling passion as he filled her; It was something deeper than neither his hands of Aegon’s reached before. She shuddered against him, her cheeks wet and her fingers curling into his slim hips, his pace rhythmic to her internal flutter pulling her towards an edge.

She let out a soft cry: “Aemond.”

His lips curled and he praised her. “Yes, just like that,” his pace continued, unrelenting. She felt her muscles clenching, spasming with the bloom of her climax spilling through, her sweet moans mixing with his sharp intake of air through his clenched teeth. Aemond stilled his hips, savoring how she shuddered beneath him, her rapid heartbeat and wet eyes that watched him intently.

A whine cut through them both. “Aemond,” and only then did they remember Aegon.

She felt empty when Aemond pulled away, her cresting pleasure fading. The bed dipped as he shifted, his large hands now moving her, coaxing her onto her hands and knees so she now faced the edge of the bed to watch as Aegon moved closer.

He had shed the last of his clothes, his swaggered step that showed his length, his girth, that hung heavy between his thighs. His touch felt clammy against her skin, cupping her jaw and tilting her head back to meet with the glitter of his lilac eyes. “Will you return me the favor?” he mused, his thumb pressing to her lower lip.

Her older brother always held a haunted beauty about him. There were splotches of wine stains, bold on his porcelain skin, and something almost sinister that brimmed beneath the dark shadows that framed his lovely eyes. Aegon watched her, his digit stroking underneath her chin as he watched for her to acknowledge his words.

Behind her, the bed dipped again as her twin moved to place his hands on her hips. Her grip balled into the linen, to try and hold her trembling still; he dragged the tip of his cock through her folds to coat himself in her release, allowing an easier glide as he sheathed back into her cunt; his groan reverberated throughout them both.

She shuddered and felt Aegon squeeze her jaw, looking up at him through the new tears that clung to her eyelashes. “Open your mouth,” was his low command, his hand wrapping around his base and pressing his swollen cockhead to her lips.

It was a tentative taste before she opened to take him bit by bit. “Watch your teeth,” and she widened her jaw, her tongue flattening against the underside of him. “Yes, good girl,” Aegon hissed, his head tilting back.

She gagged when Aemond slammed into her, his hip bones digging into the softness of her arse–this new angle choked a moan from her, and its vibration had Aegon almost giggling. His fingers combed through her silver hair that spilled from the braid, holding her head as he now bucked his hips into her mouth. She gagged again, hollowing her cheeks, saliva spilling from the corners of her mouth and dripping down the sides.

The brothers were in tandem, the brutal pace of her twin and the sensual pull of her hair by Aegon and his large hands. She trembled as she tried her best to balance on one hand, her other trying to wrap around the last bit of Aegon she could not swallow, flushed from the lack of oxygen and her muscles tensing again.

Then it stopped, the satisfying pop as Aegon removed himself from her mouth, an emptiness as Aemond pulled away. She wished to melt into the sheets, but felt hands pulled to straddle the slender waist of Aemond, who was now splayed against the pillows, the flush of color bright on his sharp features. She saw his erection pressed up against his stomach, a glossy sheen of her arousal coating him.

She sighed from his touch, lifting her hips with a soft mewl as he dragged his tip through her silken folds again, allowing her to slowly sink on top with her soft cries. He bucked beneath her, a slow pace to fill and it plumed new pleasure that sparked at her spine, fluttering throughout. Her nipples were rosy and pebbled, her small hands bracing against his chest with the imprint of of red, half-crescent moons littering on his skin.

Aemond moved his hands to cradle her lower back and pulled her forward until she was flushed against his chest. He captured her lips with a renewed fervor, biting her bottom lip, and she whimpered mercifully against his mouth. He broke away and she buried into his neck with a soft kiss, while Aemond gave a silent gesture to Aegon, who retrieved a small vial and palmed himself as he continued watching them.

“You wish to make me feel as good as I made you,” Aegon asked and the bed sank as he climbed onto it, “isn’t that right, sweet sister?”

She twisted to face him, an unintelligible moan to reply as Aemond continued his languid pace beneath her. Her eyes were glassy, soft noises spilling, and there was a movement of silver when she nodded her head.

Aegon hummed with a curl of his lips, moving behind her, pouring more from the vial into his palm. Aemond reached to find her lips again, tightening his hold as she jerked from Aegon’s touch. He made a soothing sound and she relaxed as he slowly circled her rim, a genial coat of oil, so tender it almost tickled.

It stopped and her trepidation fluttered her spine as his thick head pressed against her hole, a searing burn that speared the base as he began to push until he was fully sheathed and flushed against her ass. She trembled and Aegon let out a low groan as he leaned over her, a soft bite and kiss to her shoulder blade. “So tight,” he gasped.

Aemond had stilled his hips, swallowing her cries with his kiss, and only pulling back to lick her tears, his soothing words muted from the roar of blood that was rushing to her ears. He continued to sing small praises while Aegon moved agonizingly slow, his thrusts eventually coaxing a heat in her lower back that began to spread and press to her seams.

Aemond cupped her face to reclaim her attention, her breathy moans fanning his cheeks and her fist knotting into the linen as she shuddered against his chest. He moved his warm palms to her sides, slowly rolling his hips at an alternating pace with Aegon.

The fullness from their hungry, cyclical pace continued the crescendo building in her lower abdomen. It came with sparks of white that flashed before her eyes, the release of that coiled passion flushing her skin with their rhythm. Her tension snapped, painfully, pleasurable, sharing her bones beneath and leaving her weightless with a sobbed release.

She shuddered from the crests of pleasure that continued to crash against her, feeling Aegon’s hips stuttering with his own peak before pulling out his softening cock. And then Aemond gripped into her hips, a biting hold as he rutted upwards to chase after the high, his cock pulsing inside her velvet walls and her lips parting with a wordless cry.

She then crumpled against her twin and he moved her carefully to the side. She was breathless and could feel their pearly seed spilling from her holes and seeping into the linen. Aegon was first to move, to dress and leave the room, but Aemond took a moment, washcloths rung to wipe her clean, taking the time to blow softly on her skin and watch it ripple with gooseflesh.

When he finally finished, he crawled beneath the covers and pulled her against his chest; she sighed as she melted against him, her fingers moving to play with the silver strands of his hair. Her lips pursed a moment. “What do we do now, brother?”

His fingertips stemmed pleasantly against her ribs and she flushed from the vibration of his low hum. “I intend to speak to the Lord Hand tomorrow about making you my wife,” he said as if it was already decided.

Her tongue wet her lips. “What if he is adamant to send me to the North?”

His grin was almost wicked. “Then I will parade these corridors with these very sheets to show you are no longer a maiden,” and he pushed her as she giggled, rolling her onto her back and enjoying the natural spill of her breasts; his narrow waist knitted between her thighs and she sighed, feeling him pressed against the inside of her thigh, heavy and ready once again.

Aemond captured her mouth and his kiss heated her cheeks. He stopped a moment, his tone dark and heady, “I will not be denied. Iksā ñuhon, dōna mandia.”

You are mine, sweet sister. 

[evilwizard]

The Lich Who Stole Christmas

Every tumblrina in tumblr liked Christmas a lot.

But the lich, who lived just north of Tumblr, did not!

The lich hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season! Now, please don’t ask why. No one quite knows the reason. It could be his skull wasn’t screwed on quite right. It could be, perhaps, that his skin was too tight.

But I think that the likeliest reason of all… was his heart was encased by a strange lead-lined ball.

“Last year I made something that I thought in would usher

A new age of magic—my prized OrphanCrusher.

But my patents were stolen, and my sweet new invention

Is now being used… with good-ish intentions.

You see, Christmas wishes contain lots of magic;

And my device extracts it through methods so tragic

That I dare not mention them directly here

Though the name might clue in certain readers, I fear.

The Wizard Council, now that they possess this device,

Might use it, this year, to stamp out wizard vice.

Though the process might turn quite a few kids to carrion,

The Wiz Council’s ethics are utilitarian.

So what shall I do? What is to be done?

It seems rather clear that this Christmas can’t come.

But I’ve read a few books, and I know a few tricks

So this year I’ll steal Christmas, while dressed as Saint Nick!”

So the wizard of evil returned to his lair

Stitched a red suit, and did up his hair

Built a sleek sled—and—who among us,

Could hope for a much better Rudolph than Krongus?

They took to the skies, that next Christmas Eve,

And tailgated Santa, whom they hoped to deceive

At every house he left presents, they quickly descended,

And stole the decor and the gifts he’d intended.

And when the dark wizard’s sleigh was full-loaded with gifts,

He tugged at the reigns, and they made for The Rift!

A place where the veil between worlds was thin…

And a brilliant place to dump the gifts in!

“You see,” he told Krongus, as they approached that strange crack,

“Once something goes in, it can never come back!”

“Moreover, it’s perfect,” the wizard did sing,

“For The Rift destroys every part of that thing!”

“Every instance, every atom in all multiverses,

Will be undone as though by my special dark curses.

Not a gram, not a dust speck or mote shall remain,

And no one will even remember their name!”

“But sire,” muttered Krongus, “would it not be more precise,

If you simply put in the OrphanCrusher device?”

The evil wizard thought of this, parking his sleigh in the snow.

He’d made quite a trip, and this seemed quite a blow.

“I do have one here,” he told that weird devil.

“But destroying Christmas seems rather more evil!”

Then, far behind him, and the gifts he had pillaged,

He heard a small noise coming from Tumblr Village.

It was simply a song, of holiday spirit,

But the wizard was utterly shocked just to hear it.

“It came without ribbons! It came without tags!

It came without packages, boxes or bags!”

Then the lich thought of something he hadn’t before.

Could it be Christmas was some kind of contagion or spore?

What happened next? Well, in Tumblr, they say,

The lich’s dead heart exploded that day!

And the combustive force of that villainous blast,

Airlifted the sleigh, and brought it right back,

To the village, where Tumblrinas rejoiced!

Then continued to sing, and lift up their voice.

And back at the rift, the lich, with head in a spin,

At the edge of the rift dropped the OrphanCrusher in.

So Christmas was saved, by accident mostly,

Though performing a good deed turned the bad wizard ghostly.

“Come, Krongus—we must now return to my tower,

While I wait several months to return to full power.”

And at Wizard Council HQ, certain strategist seers,

Saw all this occur through the orbs that they peered.

They smiled, and high-fived, and struck up the band,

Pleased that these events had gone just as planned.

[heirofnight]

so long

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.8k (of heart-crushing angst)

based on this request: could you do something for azriel based off ‘so long, london’ by taylor swift! thank you in advance 🩵

a/n: this is literally just soul-crushing angst. that's it. pls give feedback, and lmk what you think <3

i saw in my mind ferry lights through the mist i kept calm and carried the weight of the rift pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away

you stood with your back to the rest of the room, peering out at the velvety night sky that was blanketing velaris.

your arms were wrapped around yourself, and you'd opted to put all of your focus towards counting each bright, twinkling star in the onyx sky - anything to avoid turning around, which would result in meeting the eyes of the male sitting on the bed behind you.

you'd heard the sheets rustle as azriel shifted his weight against the mattress. he huffed out a dejected sigh, his wings rustling in anticipation of the conversation that was inevitably going to take place.

you'd shook your head then, squeezing your left shoulder in an attempt to ground yourself, silence your swirling thoughts.

my spine split from carrying us up the hill wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill i stopped trying to make him laugh, stopped trying to drill the safe

"i can't keep doing this, azriel," you whispered hoarsely, sniffling once.

although you couldn't see him, you felt the tension that stiffened his slouched frame after you uttered those words.

"i've felt this way for awhile, but i kept telling myself to ignore it - i've ignored you shutting down, shutting me out for days. i've ignored the way you've so-," you paused, trying to reign in your quickly escalating emotions before continuing, "so obviously have been going out of your way to avoid me, and i've even ignored you leaving my bed in the middle of the night to return to your own rooms - to sleep alone," you breathed out a quiet laugh devoid of any humor.

when he offered you no response, you kept going, "i'm exhausted, azriel. i am tired. i cannot keep forcing this relationship along, and i refuse to allow myself to continue to be involved with you when it is so clearly one-sided," you finished, voice shaky yet firm.

i stopped CPR, after all it’s no use the spirit was gone, we would never come to and i’m pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free

you finally turned around, daring to meet the hazel eyes of the male that, a year ago, handed his heart over to you in the palms of his beautifully scarred hands. you were both so happy in the beginning. he'd given you everything, he'd shared everything with you - his past, the horrible, vicious past that he'd endured. every thought, every feeling that made itself known at any given moment. he had slowly but surely opened himself up to you. no crevice was left undiscovered - and you had granted him the same.

but, for what? so much wasted time, wasted energy.

over the last few months, azriel had begun to revert back to his old ways - to the point where, you'd sometimes had to ask yourself if it was all a dream in the first place. this abrupt, glaring switch had been flipped, and it almost felt like you'd never known him at all.

even now, it was like looking into the eyes of a stranger. his shadows were twined tightly around himself - a safe cocoon that rendered him wholly hidden from you. his expression was cold, unreadable. before you was the shadowsinger, but you'd fallen in love with your az.

and if this heartbreaking shift in his demeanor wasn't awful enough to endure, he was also refusing to even speak to you about it. you'd receive grunts and hums in lieu of actual verbal responses. did you not even deserve an explanation?

"so, i'm done. i'm done trying to make this work, i'm done bending over backwards. i've only broken myself in half in the process. i am not going to be the only one fighting to keep this, this - whatever this is, alive. thank you for all of the times we've had, but i'm done," you sneered, cringing at how professional your last statement felt, sounded.

so far from where you'd both begun.

and you say i abandoned the ship, but i was going down with it my white knuckle dying grip, holding tight to your quiet resentment

his eyes were cold and full of disdain, all of that anger and negativity being directed towards you - boring through you so intensely, you'd sworn for a moment that his gaze would leave gaping holes on every part of your body it touched.

he cleared his throat, his voice sounding like pure gravel, "so that's it, then? you're just - giving up?," he spat, his shadows swirling around him angrily - the sight reminding you of furious storm clouds preparing to decimate the land beneath them.

you must have been hallucinating.

giving up? you narrowed your eyes, taking a moment to process his words before you spoke.

"giving up?," you repeated out loud, voice hard and disbelieving.

"azriel, have you not been listening to me? have you not been bearing witness to how hard i have tried, and tried, and tried over the last 5 months?," you stepped towards him, face twisted in anger.

"how dare you?," you spat, hands slapping against your thighs as you gestured in utter shock. "i would have died for you, azriel. and several times over these last few months, it felt like i was heading in that direction," your voice lowered, growing dark.

he winced at your words, head dropping to stare at his hands that sat folded in his lap.

so how much sad did you think i had, did you think i had in me? how much tragedy? just how low did you think i'd go ‘fore i’d self implode? 'fore i’d have to go be free?

"i'm sorry," his voice hoarse and full of gravel - remorseful.

you paused, dropping your own head toward the floor.

"it's a little too late for that, az," you softened at his nickname escaping your lips, your heart aching at the familiarity of it. proof that you'd both been more than just strangers to each other at some point, even if that was the heart-wrenching truth now.

he shook his head to himself, running a frustrated hand through his jet-black waves.

curls that you'd play with so frequently when he'd begun to shut down right in front of your eyes. the action always seemed to bring him temporary piece, settling the raging storm that was beginning to brew within his molten-honey eyes.

your hand twitched at the memory, urging you to do the same thing for him again - now. but it was over, past the point of no return.

you swore that you loved me, but where were the clues? i died on the altar waiting for the proof

you bristled, straightening your posture after a pregnant pause of silence - you'd realized that he had nothing else to offer. no more words, no more explanations, no energy to fix whatever had irreparably split you both in two.

there was a point - about three months into the relationship - where things were so good, so heart-achingly perfect, that you were absolutely positive that he must be your mate. that was the only explanation for how well you both intertwined with each other. surely, there could be no other male walking this planet more made for you than azriel.

now, that thought almost made you laugh, the irony of it all almost paralyzing.

and so, with azriel offering you nothing further, you began to stride towards his bedroom door. this was it. he had no reassurance to give, no proclamation of love, no argument against the truth.

it was over, and that was that.

and I’m just getting colour back into my face

three months had passed since you had ended your relationship with azriel on a devastating note.

you'd avoided the entire inner circle for that entire timeframe. you'd stopped visiting the town house, the house of wind. you'd stopped visiting rita's, and the bakery that you knew feyre loved to frequent. you'd opted to ultimately avoid the rainbow entirely. you couldn't bare it, couldn't bare the thought of running into any of them.

the thought of their pitying eyes assessing you after everything that had happened - it was suffocating, it would leave wounds almost as deep and bloody as the breakup itself.

but, as time progressed, you'd begun to heal. you'd met new friends at a cooking class held across the river. and as time went on, you were even able to stomach the food you'd spent so much time learning to create.

and then - it happened.

you'd decided on a whim to accompany your new friends to a café alongside the sidra after a cooking class one evening. it was a beautiful night, the clearest sky you'd seen in what felt like months. you weren't sure if this had anything to do with the newfound clarity you'd received since ending things with azriel, but regardless, it was welcomed.

you were sat around a small, round table right next to the peaceful river, the stars reflecting off its surface in a way that threatened to steal your breath each time you glanced over.

you felt true peace, surrounded by company - friends, friends that were yours, and not yours and azriel's.

a laugh trickled out of you as you listened intently to a story being shared around your table of wine and appetizers. you glanced to your left, squeezing the arm of the new male beside you - leaning against his frame as you both giggled. you'd met him at these aforementioned cooking classes, and you'd be lying if you said he wasn't a large reason behind your continued attendance.

your eyes met his, and you shared a warm smile, and that's when something behind his head - in the distance - caught your focus.

the apex of large, membranous wings. you felt your face blanche at the realization, and you leaned back in your chair hesitantly, heart stuttering against your ribcage.

and sure enough, there stood azriel. he'd already found you, and his narrowed gaze pinned you in place. he was with his brothers, and they seemed completely unaware of your presence at all.

but azriel was always aware, of everything, all the time. and he was painfully aware of you, sitting next to a male that was not him. hooked around his frame as if you were sewn together.

his shadows twirled and looped around him ominously, and you knew him well enough to know that although his expression was blank and unfeeling, his shadows always gave his emotions away.

he was pissed.

but you offered him a tense, pained smile. you felt dizzy, but you nodded once in his direction anyway.

as if to say, i see you, and i'm here, and so are you, and that's okay

it was over, and you'd met someone new, and you had come to terms with that - with all of it.

and you'd wanted him to do the same.

so long, london stitches undone two graves, one gun you’ll find someone

a/n: this shit HURT. angst with no happy ending makes me want to claw my eyes out. but i hope you enjoyed this request!

a/n x2: i am just getting home from a morning shift, so if any of this was written poorly or not .... great, it's because i've been awake since 4AM. so sorry!!!

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 179 }

company.

academy arc

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ let's end each other's lonely nights | be each other's paradise | need a picture for my frame | someone to share my reign… }

you walked to school in the early hours of the morning, simply looking down at the novel you were reading in your hand. a smile paints your features the more you basked and read each scene, and as you were in the midst of turning the page, you felt a strange sensation creeping up on you-

the sensation of being followed.

your steps begin to slow just then, unaware of the large hand that reaches out to you-

as sung jinwoo lets out a rich chuckle of your name, wrapping an arm around you as he brings you closer to the front of his chest.

“morning, angel.” he purrs into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. you give him a playful pout, lightly pushing yourself away from him.

you missed the lost expression seen in his gaze the moment you pulled away from him, trying to calm down your racing heart as you smoothed down the skirt of your uniform.

with a cough, you put your novel back within the confines of your bag, choosing instead to walk side-by-side with jinwoo to school.

you and jinwoo had a special relationship-

this didn’t mean that you two were a couple or anything, oh no.

what you meant was that you still had memories of another life with jinwoo…

where you and him were both hunters, taking on raids while supporting each other throughout it all.

jinwoo was your best friend during those times; he helped train you, a mere b-rank hunter, making you more proficient in your raids as you slowly rose up the ranks, given you freedom to attend more high level raids despite never being able to level up like he could.

your memories became a little hazy after the war, and once jinwoo used the cup of reincarnation one last time-

you found yourself being 14 again, living with your parents and little brother in your humble home. perhaps what came as the most shocking to you was how you retained all of your memories.

which was why you felt so happy when you and jinwoo ended up going to the same high school together. he was a great source of comfort during the times when memories of your past life became too much to bear.

ah, but you were getting ahead of yourself-

you’ve since then gotten better at dealing with the hardships of your past life, even getting the tiniest bit upset when jinwoo admitted to taking on all the monarchs on his own, spending a total of 27 years within some strange, dimensional rift. you knew that he had won the war all on his own while telling you how he succeeded his mission, now living his life as a normal human despite how truly godlike he was.

jinwoo’s knuckles were suddenly felt being gently placed against the top of your head. “you’re dozing off again.”

“what? i am not dozing off, woowoo.”

a blush immediately paints his features when you refer to him by that stupid nickname. “h-hey, that nickname is dumb as hell, and that’s not even how you pronounce my name! the ‘woo’ in ‘jinwoo’ is more subtle than that, like a soft ~u.”

“heh, whatever, woowoo…!”

you giggle when his eyes flash purple in annoyance, running to catch up to you, but all while hiding his grin.

you would never know the depths of his feelings for you, and that fact alone was killing the shadow monarch on the inside.

{ … }

you and jinwoo end up enjoying lunch together back in the classroom, with you taking casual sips of your juice.

“so do you have track practice today?”

jinwoo takes a rice ball from your lunch box as you stole a piece of his bulgogi beef. “yeah, i do.”

“hehe, did you want me to hang out with you on the field?”

a soft smile paints jinwoo’s features, “if you don’t mind, then yeah. i could use your company.”

a teasing grin paints your expression, “you still trying to get with cha hae-in?”

jinwoo chokes on his rice ball, “w-what the- you know about that?!”

“what? it’s so obvious that you’re still into her! want me to look her up and give you her number or something?”

you giggle in response, basking in jinwoo’s embarrassed expression. you recall how jinwoo was pretty much dating cha hae-in in the original timeline, and they were truly such a cute couple in your eyes!

two of the most renowned s-rank hunters taking on high level gates, never once failing their missions or goals. because of jinwoo’s blossoming romance, you, being simply labeled as his best friend, took a step back and gave them the space they needed in order to let their romance bloom.

and now, with time going backwards due to jinwoo’s actions, you were certain he was going to try and capture her heart once more, leaving you more than willing to play as his wingwoman once more.

despite your playful words, jinwoo appeared uncomfortable, shifting his rice around his lunch box with his chopsticks, eyebrows furrowed in response. noticing the change in his demeanor, you softly ask him, “are you okay?”

your question snaps him out of his reveries. “i’m fine. here, you can have the rest of my lunch… i’ll be right back.”

you could tell something was wrong with jinwoo, watching as he stood up a bit too fast for your liking when you stop him, allowing your hand to wrap around his wrist. “wait, where are you going?”

he looks down at you with gentle grey eyes, allowing the pad of his thumb to grace at your cheek as he wiped away an imaginary stain. after that simple touch, he points to your empty juice bottle.

“i was going to get you more juice. are you opposed to it?”

your eyes go wide, but you shook your head in response. “no, i don’t mind it.”

jinwoo gives you a nod, shaking your grip off of his wrist, leaving you utterly confused as you kept staring at his quickly retreating form.

“how strange…” you look down at your shadow, seeing a few, glowing purple eyes glancing back at you.

at least he still wanted to protect you-

even when you knew you did something to upset him.

{ … }

jinwoo told you he didn’t mind you watching him at practice-

but you didn’t feel like your presence was warranted after upsetting him at lunch earlier. so, you hid out at the library, working on some assignments while doing your readings for your classes. you had thoughts about going home first, but deep down, you knew that avoiding jinwoo wouldn’t help with making this whole situation any better.

as you were writing, you immediately became aware of the shadow looming over you, a pair of solemn, glowing violet eyes staring down at you with a neutral expression.

“why didn’t you join me at practice?”

you tremble a bit, detecting the accusation in jinwoo’s voice as you let out a sigh.

“how could i join you when you’re mad at me?” you whisper back at him.

hearing his scoff tones down your anxieties the tiniest bit, and you felt your shoulders visibly relax at the sound of it. you finally gather the courage to meet his gaze, seeing jinwoo leaning closer to you while placing a hand on the table.

he was dressed in his track uniform, consisting of a purple and white shirt with matching shorts. he taps the top of his sneakers against the linoleum floors, giving you a nice view of his muscular calves.

you were ready to tease him about it, your lips puckered up as a low whistle escapes from them when jinwoo suddenly wraps an arm around the back of your head.

your words die against your throat, eyes going wide when your face was pressed directly against jinwoo’s chest. he runs his fingers through your hair, a pained whisper heard coming from him when he asks,

“do you really not feel a single thing from me? am i doomed to remain just friends with you in this timeline, too?”

your mouth goes dry when you hear his question, and you were uncertain as to how to respond to him. you felt your lips open and close, yet still, not a single syllable would come out.

jinwoo lets out a disappointed ‘tsk’ then, shoving you away from him as he gazes down at you with a neutral look. “forget about it. just… forget about it.”

you watch helplessly when jinwoo picks up his duffel bag and backpack, facing away from you as your heart clenched painfully in response.

if you didn’t stop him now, then you’d lose him forever.

shoving back your chair with such intensity that it nearly falls to the ground, you grab jinwoo’s wrist once more. his eyes go wide, and you catch his shocked expression momentarily before standing on the tip of your toes to fully kiss him.

his reaction was immediate- instinctive even when he wraps his arms around your back, bringing you achingly closer to him all while deepening the kiss.

you lost track of time, uncertain of how many kisses you shared when you finally found the strength to pull away from him. he keeps both of his arms wrapped tightly around you, purple eyes gazing down at you in amusement and love, all while running his hands through your hair.

“i… i always thought that you always deserved a girl like cha hae-in… because, well, you know… she was pretty powerful… and gorgeous, too.”

jinwoo scoffs at your admission, but remains quiet, wishing for you to go on and explain yourself.

“that’s why, i kept all my feelings hidden for you.” unable to meet his gaze, you play with the front of his shirt, smoothing the fabric while picking away at the imaginary lint. “i always figured you deserved better than me-“

“tch, stop.”

jinwoo then gently pulls you back by your hair, eyes becoming more passionate when he crashes his lips against yours. you could only whimper in response to his sudden kiss, hands remaining curled up against his chest as jinwoo presses you even closer to him.

he pulls away first, lightly panting before admitting to you, “please… i never wanted hae-in… but you were so determined to set us up that neither one of us knew what to do.”

you blink up at him in complete shock. “what…? but, she had such a huge crush on you…?!”

jinwoo chuckles all while tracing the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip. “well yeah… she liked me, but that didn’t mean that i liked her. how could i like her when i already had you?”

your head was spinning, yet despite it all, you couldn’t stop the smile from forming. “eh? but didn’t you say you wanted to join track to meet her someday?”

jinwoo lets out a huff, bringing your frame into his chest once more before coming clean to you. “forgive me and my poor attempts at making you jealous. joining track was just an excuse, really.”

his admission finally earns bouts of laughter from you, feeling so relieved and happy that your feelings were requited after all. after spending a few more minutes in each other’s embrace, jinwoo gives your body one last squeeze before pulling away from you, giving your forehead a gentle kiss.

“how about i walk back home with you, then, we can talk about our plans for our upcoming first date.”

you giggle, watching as jinwoo packs up your notebooks and assignments before carrying your bag for you, giving you a lovesick expression while you cling on to his side.

perhaps dreams do come true after all…

a.n. - this is so self indulgent, but oh so much fun to write! (/ω＼)

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[halfagone]

I had an epiphany idea

[extremely-judgemental]

Feyre’s autonomy in the books is a sham.

From the start of the series, Feyre is the voice of agency and independence. Even before she is taken to the fae lands, she’s headstrong and stubborn and insists on making her own decisions against the advice of her sisters and father. And once in Spring Court, she often retaliates against Tamlin, sneaks out of the mansion, and wanders where she isn’t allowed for her own safety. After her rebirth, once again, she fights for her autonomy which causes the rift between her and Tamlin.

It’s very clear where Feyre’s values truly lie. So, let’s talk about how they crumble in her new life.

Feyre shares three different bonds with Rhysand.

Under the Mountain, Feyre makes a bargain with Rhysand which leaves a spying eye on her palm. This only proves beneficial to her during Amarantha’s second task and later, when she wants to stop her wedding in Spring Court. From the bargain marks on Nesta and Cassian, it’s obvious they don’t act as a communication channel. Rhysand deliberately fashioned theirs to enable his voyeurism. In FAS, he turns this mark to the insignia of Night Court, which raises the question, if he had control over such powerful magic, why didn’t he change it or release her when she left for Spring Court if he had no intention of spying further or harming her? Moreover in WAR, she admits missing this specific tattoo and is relieved to have the one on her other hand, implying Feyre is addicted to his influence over her mind by now.

Rhysand trains Feyre to control her Daemati powers and shield herself against the others. Yet at the end of it, Feyre admits to leaving an open channel for Rhysand at all times. While she never blocks this path often, other than that time in Spring Court, Rhysand chooses to whenever its convenient for him, like when he decided to give Nesta away to Eris, allow Keir and his people into Velaris, or during the battle of Adriata. This shows Feyre allows him more reign over this bond and encourages him to do so whenever he’s making decision without consulting her.

Finally, the mating bond. This is the one that influences emotions the most. For someone who’s already being influenced mentally to have an open emotional line to the other only makes Feyre prone to be a sheep herded by Rhysand.

Feyre prefers to be Rhysand’s lackey.

Feyre learns to control her powers, learns to read, and trains to wield her newly made fae body. Though these are her desires even before she moves to Night Court, they all conveniently fit into Rhysand’s grand schemes. So, if none of it had amounted to much, would he have let her? We have proof of it in SF where Nesta’s trauma and healing doesn’t matter to him and he chooses to prepare a traumatised woman to find the trove and fight for them.

Time and again, Feyre does everything Rhysand asks for because she ‘understands his reasons’ or they are vital in the upcoming war like stealing the Book of Breathings from Summer Court. She has a moment to make a choice of her own, she contemplates telling Tarquin the truth instead of deceiving him and decides against it because Rhysand doesn’t trust him. Not a night ago, Feyre has no problem violating Tarquin’s mind and yet she couldn’t recognise his true intention.

It shows Feyre doesn’t even want to think. She’s happy to follow along with whatever Rhysand says. She dismisses her instincts in favour of believing every word he feeds her. How does Feyre have an agency when she refuses to even think for herself?

Velaris is a gilded cage.

Feyre is first brought to the Moonstone Palace and introduced to Velaris only after she promises to never speak of it or go back to Tamlin (iirc). The city is protected by a ward that hasn’t been breeched in 5000 years. She’s brought to the Town House (Rhysand’s personal home) and left with the wraiths who answer to him. The word ‘choice’ is often brought up here when in truth, Feyre is a homeless fae taking ‘help’ from the first person who offered. If she denies, she’s on her own in an unknown, and possibly enemy, territory.

But all that turns out fine and Feyre becomes the High Lady. Now, she’s never left the city alone of her own volition. She never explores the city on her own. She doesn’t even know the true boundary of Velaris or the court other than seeing it on maps maybe. Whenever she’s out of the city—to CoN, to Illyria, to the Prison, to Summer Court, to High Lord’s meeting—she’s always escorted by Rhysand.

Her life in Velaris is very similar to the one in Spring, except the entire city is her mansion. What Feyre condemned Tamlin for is exactly what she accepts with open arms in Night.

Feyre has no true friend or ally.

The first people Feyre meets in Night Court are the very and only ones who ever become her friends—Rhysand’s family. Whenever Feyre is not with him, she’s always found with one of these ‘friends’ who are also more loyal to their High Lord than her. They prove this in SF when none of them care for her agency as much as they care for her unborn child or Rhysand’s feelings. Moreover, Feyre has even isolated herself from her sisters by choosing her new family over them again and again.

High Lady who is just another lady.

During her rule, Feyre does nothing but fight and wage wars for inappropriate reasons. She either doesn’t or can’t make rules. While Rhysand makes decisions without consulting her and employs it, Feyre only ever gets to know of these when everybody else does—Keir’s visit to Velaris, offering her own sister to Eris. She is only a High Lady by name and has no authority to do anything with her crown. In fact, she hasn’t even tested this new power except for lording it over her sisters and so-called friends. It’s merely a title enabling her to run amok destroying courts and insulting High Lords without consequences.

Feyre is a prize to be claimed.

Feyre is tossed back and forth between two men, especially since MAF. She’s never the one choosing what’s best for her. She doesn’t reevaluate her situations, tally them, and decide where she wants to be or who she ends up with. She chooses the first man who is willing to give her an inch on the leash. For a woman who’s meant to be the badass female who never relies on anyone, her freedom is controlled by, bargained by, and fought between two domineering men. She could have chosen to go back to her sisters. She could have chosen to live separately for a while, to explore at least Velaris on her own without someone breathing down her neck all the time, and then she could have decided on a path for herself. Instead Feyre is willing to jump from one man’s arms to another because it’s easier than to have true autonomy.

What if Feyre wants a break from Velaris or Rhysand?

She has no home of her own to go to. She’s bound her own sisters with her inside Velaris. She’s established herself as Rhysand’s whore in Hewn City and his racist queen in Illyria. The only people she can rely on for help are Rhysand’s friends. No one can enter the city to rescue her, nor will anyone choose to fight the ‘most powerful High Lord’ for her. She had the opportunity to befriend Tarquin and instead she made an enemy out of Summer for Rhysand. If she had explained her situation to Tamlin, he could’ve been her one shot but then she destroyed Spring on a personal vendetta.

The High Lords meeting is interesting as Rhysand uses that to isolate Feyre furthermore from the other courts. Despite what happened with Spring, they still had respect for her. But Rhysand constantly throws ‘She’s a High Lady’ around cementing that Feyre is the one making the choices when it came to aggression when he passively fuels her actions. He refuses to hold her accountable for her crimes proving he’s capable of but wouldn’t stop her even when she’s wrong. He allows Feyre to lose control of her powers when a minute ago, he gladly took control of Tamlin’s mind. He casts a shield around them after her little outburst. He is capable of taming her temper and chooses not to, making a show of his influence over her, essentially destroying every alliance she’s built on her own.

Also, when the Wall comes down, Rhysand senses it all the way from the Dawn Court. If his powers have such reach, would it be impossible for him to find Feyre wherever she was even without the bonds aiding him? Considering the city wards, the three bonds, and the extent of his powers alone, he has little to worry about Feyre’s safety. If one of those were lacking, it’s not far-fetched to believe he’d go ballistic. And this is obvious from the shield he caged Feyre in during her pregnancy. Would Tamlin have acted the way he did if he had an ounce of Rhysand’s powers or had a secret city? Rhysand is calm and assured not because he trusts Feyre but he knows she can’t get too far from his reach.

These circumstances are completely ignored and Feyre chooses to believe she’s better off in Night Court when her life is not so different. She is too blind to realise her fate and life is heavily influenced by Rhysand—from her home, to friends, to family, to her own mind. She sees the city he wants her to see. She meets the people he wants her to meet. While every other court is still recovering from Amarantha’s rule and rebuilding their cities from ruins, Rhysand flaunts Velaris as the ideal home for her and Feyre is more than willing to take it. She never once questions him or his beliefs. She even accepts and embodies his morals as her own to the point of hating two whole cities she has no clue about.

And where is her autonomy in that? In some ways, Feyre had more power as herself in Spring than she has as High Lady in Night.

[kaz-identified]

Odysseus throws the raider away, snarling out a feral growl as he plants six shots into it's chest. Nothing would come between these refugees and safety. Not while he and Atticus where here. He stamps down on the skull for good measure, this thing is not getting back up. He pauses for a second, panting, scanning the battle field.

Nine Fallen remain, five vandals, three shanks, and their Captain. Five refugees were still in the area, gathered terrified against a wall where Atticus stood, brandishing an auto rifle. She fired wildly at the shanks, screaming at the refugees to run, get to safety further from the fight. Her spray and pray method payed off, she managed to shoot two of the damned drones down from the sky. Odysseus lets out a soft sigh of relief. She's fighting well.

He turns his attention to the remaining Vandals, throwing himself into the air and tossing a grenade down at the feet of two of them. It detonates in a burst of fire, atomizing them in mere milliseconds. He lands softly in the snow behind the corpses, firing shots into the remaining. They fall easy. He grins, teeth bared like a snarling animal. He's getting stronger. Athena would be proud.

His self congratulatory celebration is cut short by a scream.

Pained, panicked, intense, full of hatred and intent to doll back the pain sevenfold. No fear, not in her voice. Not in his son, she would never let herself sound scared in a fight. But he would. He felt a cold chill run down his spine. Terror gripping him like two skeletal hands grabbing at his throat, clawing at his chest, tearing his breath from his lungs, pulling his heart to a stop. Atticus was hurt.

"ATTICUS!" He howls, lurching forward. Fire pools in his palm and he throws it through the Captain's chest, burning away flesh and metal, leaving nothing but smoldering remains. He stares down at them. And then stares ahead, at his sister, his beloved son, clutching her stomach with one hand and desperately comforting a child with the other. "No no no no, don't cry kid! It's ok! See?" she points to him, directing the small boy's gaze. "He got them all! You're all safe." She offers a smile, blood pooling between her fingers.

She wipes the boy's tears away weakly, careful not to streak any blood on his face. "You're alright, little lion. You're tough. Odyssues will get you guys to safety," she promises, her voice fading. She struggles to her feet, stumbling over to him. "Keep 'em safe, yea? Please?" She asks, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"No, no, no NO NO NO," he says, grabbing her arms. "No. You aren't dying. Come on, Minerva, can't you do something?" he asks his Ghost, staring at her with pleading eyes.

She shakes herself. "Not to her. I can’t heal her without the light. Atticus… I'm so sorry,” she looks at the girl, her shell tilting down in grief.

Atticus gives her a bright smile to reassure her that it’s ok. But it’s not OK. It will never be OK again.

Odysseus feels the world shutter to a freezing halt. Ice in his veins, frost climbing down his throat to freeze his heart. The fire burning within him dying, embers growing cold. He feels something within him die.

"…Atticus, please," he begs, quietly.

She blinks slowly, leaning into the arm he has on her shoulder. "The wall. Get them past it, please. To the settlement Athena told us about. Keep them safe."

He blinks back tears, feeling even the sorrow die in his chest. "Of course, my lady."

She grins at him. "Good man."

He pulls her into a hug, sinking to the ground with her. He cradles her body, quietly. Finally, he feels her breathing shallow, and stop. He looks down at her body. This girl, so kind and brave, devoted entirely to protecting those around her, using her dying breathes to beg him to protect. His son, stolen from him. His sister, dead in his arms. At the hands of Fallen. He presses his forehead against hers. "I'll see you starside, Telemachus," he whispers like a promise.

He lays her gently in the snow, bracing her body against one of the rusted cars. He can't give her a proper burial, not with refugees to protect. He leans her head forward, gently, and carefully unties the leather ribbon she tied her hair back with. He'll keep her with him, in some way. He ties it around his upper arm, a promise he will keep. He raises to his feet, ready to lead the refugees on, to bring them to safety. When he stops, a glinting of light catching his eye. The Captain's charred remains, the gun that had tore through his sister's body glistened in the light. But more importantly, a symbol remained on it's body. The crest of the House of Falcons. Odysseus narrowed his eyes, a promise forming in his throat. He stalks over to the remains, kneels at it's side.

"You stole the reason for my life, you murdered my sister, my son, so callously, without second thought. You have stalked those I protect too long. I will hunt every last one of you down. Try to fly away, little bird, I will break your wings," he hisses out a growl.

He would contact Athena as soon as he got these refugees to safety. And then he would cast these cruel birds from the sky.

He stands, brushing snow from his legs. He forces a smile on his face as he looks at the refugees. "Well, you heard the girl. I've got to keep you all safe."

[lucisfavoritedemon]

Through The Poral: Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: A mystery girl comes through the portal with Ford. Little did anyone know she has a bigger connection to the brothers than anyone thought.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, age gap, flash backs, mentions of hopelessness, age gap (reader looks 21)

Pairing(s): Stan x platonic!reader, Ford x platonic!reader

A/N: Retelling of a Tale of Two Stans. The events and ideas are based on a theory I have about the Nightmare Realm. This is in no way canonically true, just my theories based on what we canonically know about the Nightmare Realm. 

40 long years of waiting. Waiting and wondering whether the time would come if I would ever be able to go home again. 40 years of hiding in plain sight from the one they call Bill Cipher, a dream demon who reigns over the nightmare realm, the place I have resided in for 40 years. Unaged and unchanged physically, but mentally I feel like I’ve lived for centuries.

When I first arrived in the nightmare realm, I had found refuge with a group of asteroid miners. I wasn't sure how much time had truly passed when an unknown man joined us, Stanford Pines. He told us stories of how he managed to get there as escapes Bill's grasp.

That was a long time ago. It seemed longer than what it actually was. Stanford had gone off and managed to hop between dimensions, and here we're I standing at the ready to take down Bill for good, his quantum destabilizer complete and in hand. 

“We have one shot at this.” Stanford whispered to me. 

I nodded in agreement, but as we went to strike, a rift opened up in front of us. Stanford, knowing the stakes of this mission knew that either we walked through, or Bill would and wreak havoc upon our home dimension, so with a heavy heart we walked through entering back into our home dimension. 

It felt surreal. After being gone for so long, I was finally back home. Yet, where I stood was not familiar to me. I recognised nothing. A dark space that was placed, I assumed, underground. I could hear the whirring of the machine as it fizzled and died. Home, a place I'd long forgotten, yet this place felt nothing like that. I felt like I was an imposter entering a realm I did not belong in.

Stanford and I stood silent. Taking in our surroundings. Unmoved by anything the people standing in the room were saying or doing. That was, till a man in a fez spoke up amongst the group. 

“Finally, after all these years long years of waiting, you're actually here! Brother!” The man opened his arms, a goofy grin spread across his face.

Then Stanford punched him square in the face before speaking, “this was an insanely risky move, restarting the portal. Didn't you read my warnings!?”

Never had I seen Stanford so angry. Usually he was calm and collected. Even still, he may have lashed out, but he wasn't yelling, he was calmly speaking down to this man that claimed to be his brother.

“Wranings, schmarnings. How's about maybe a thanks for saving you from what appears to be some sci-fi sideburn dimension.”

“Thank you? You think I'm going to thank you after what you did 30 years ago!?” Stanford raised his voice for the first time since I met him. He always was soft spoken, and kind. Never have I heard someone draw such anger out of him. Not even Bill himself.

Something didn't seem right. The physical confrontation, the yelling. It all screamed something more beyond the surface of what I knew.

Stanford had pinned his brother to the ground after dodging his punches. That's when I noticed the three of us weren't alone. There were three others that joined us in the dark, dingy underground. 

“Hey, hi, Mabel here. Quick question, what the heck is going on here?” A girl in a pink hand knitted sweater spoke up. 

“Stan, you didn't tell me there were children down here. And some sort of large, hairless gopher.” Stanford quickly gained his composure as he looked between the three people we didn't even notice. The larger man chuckled at Stanford's comment, seeking unphased. I took quick note of this.

“They're your family poindexter. Shermie's grandkids.” Stanford's brother, or Stan as he supposedly goes by, gestured to the two young kids, I'm guessing, were twins.

“I-I have a niece, a nephew?” Stanford's voice turned to one of fondness before he knelt down in front of the girl, Mabel, reaching out to shake her hand, “greetings. Do kids still say greetings? I haven't been in this dimension for a really long time.”

“Woah, a six fingered hand shake, that's one finger friendlier than usual.” Mabel beamed.

Mabel's twin brother, who had been absolutely silent up until now, finally spoke up, “I-I can believe it. You're the author of the journals.” The boy then began to hyperventilate and almost threw up.

This whole thing felt like a lucid dream. I let Stanford get used to the new information he had received. I, on the other hand, had nothing to take in. I again, was lost in the world of unknowns. Maybe I no longer had a home to look for anymore.

“There'll be time for introductions later. But first, tell me Stan, are there any security breaches? Does anyone else know about this portal?”

“No. Just us. Also, maybe the entire US Government.”

“The what!?” Stanford's face was fuming. I never saw him so angry.

They all looked through the window where the security footage showed the government outside searching for Stanford’s brother and the two young kids. Everything was so chaotic right now, which I hoped wouldn’t be the case when we entered our home dimension. I guess chaos followed us wherever we went.

“Okay, it’s alright. We’ve got a while before they find this room. We just need to lay low and think of a plan.” Stanford stated, the calmness returned to his voice as he pulled out the journal he had picked up off the floor, and began to write in it.

“It looks like we’re going to be stuck down here for a while. Who wants to tell us their entire mysterious back story, and also, who is she?” Mabel stated, finally pointing in my direction.

“This is Y/n. She is a friend I met on my travels. Yes, though, I have some questions about all of this myself, Stanley.” Stanford finally introduced me.

Stanley? I had not heard a name like that in 40 years…a name so familiar to me yet so foreign all at the same time. An old friend from home. A friend I left behind all those years ago. There was no way this was the same Stanley. Right?”

“Stanley?” Mabel’s brother asked.

“But your name is Stanford.” Mabel pointed out.

Stanford’s face and mine said it all. What the hell was happening here? What had happened in the time Stanford was gone? Why had his brother assumed his identity? I hoped we both got the answers we needed.

“Wait, you took my name? What have you been doing all these years you knucklehead?” Stanford turned angry again.

Whatever happened between Stanford and his brother, it still hit a nerve with him. Something about Stanley made Stanford’s normal demeanor turn angry. A side I never thought he had. He was cunning for sure, but downright hateful was not on the list of traits I had listed for Stanford.

“”Okay, okay, okay. I know I have a lot of explaining to do. It all started a lifetime ago…” Stanley began telling his version of his life growing up with Stanford to everyone.

As he spoke, things started to piece together slowly in my mind. There was a reason Stanford and I were brought together. The more they spoke the more I connected my life to the eldest Pines twins. I reached into my pocket, there I kept a picture of my dear friend that I left behind. The one person I wanted to get back to the most. Stanley Pine.

“The old me was dead, and I faked a car crash to prove it. By day, I was Stanford Pines, mr. Mystery. But by night, I was down in the basement trying to bring the real Stanford back. I couldn’t risk anyone learning the truth and sabotaging my mission. So, I lied to everyone. The town, my family, your parents. Even you, kids.” Stanley finished his story.

Everyone was so enthralled in the story that the brothers were telling, we all forgot about the government agents upstairs. Dipper, I learned was the name of Mabel’s brother, had a device in his bag that could erase people’s memories. Stanford hooked it up and changed the frequency to sync to radio headsets.

We all plugged our ears as Stanford set the device off. Soon enough the agents were dazed and confused about where they were and what was going on. Stanford greeted them and sent them away, pretending to be a government official.

“Nice work Stanford.” I smiled as I walked up to him.

He smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder, “thank you, Y/n. How are you holding up?”

“I’ve been better. It’ll take some time to adjust, but I feel like I know you better than I did before, and your brother as well.”

“It’ll take us both some time to adjust, but I promise, as soon as we get settled in, and things quiet down, I’ll get you back home where you belong.”

I shake my head, “no. You and I are a team. I’m not leaving your side. Plus,” I pull out the picture of Stanley, “I think my home is here now.”

Stanford took the picture from me, “i-is this?”

I nod, “I didn’t recognize him at first. He’s older now, and with that fez, I couldn’t see his hair, I always said that was his most defining feature.” I laughed softly.

Stanford smiled softly, “I think you should get some rest. You and Stan can discuss this in the morning. I know of a room you can stay in, if it’s still there that is.”

I nod as Stanford leads me inside and to the room that he said used to be his. It consisted of just a couch and wasn’t much, but it was a place to rest my head at night, and probably more comfortable than a cold gravel ground.

I was settling in as I heard the brothers talking. Stanford said that at the end of the summer he was to give him his house back, his name back, and the Mystery Shack business was over with. I could hear the pain in Stan’s voice, and I felt sorry for him, but after what he told us today, I didn’t blame Stanford for being the way he was. Stan hurt him badly, and I didn’t blame Stanford for holding it against his brother

I was finally settled in when Stan knocked on the door. I sat up and invited him in. He had a few more blankets in his hand that he was ready to offer up.

“Y-you settling in okay?” He asked softly.

I nodded and smiled, “as good as one can. It’s been so long since I laid on anything other than the ground in years.”

“Ford tells me you’re originally from this dimension too?”

I nod, “yeah, I’ve been away for I think 40 years…the world definitely seems different now than it did in the 70s.”

“Th-the 70s?”

“Yeah, I know, kind of a while to be away from home. No trace left of me. Nothing left except my failed experiment.”

“Y-you didn’t happen to grow up in New Jersey too, did you?”

“I actually did…” I hesitate whether I should tell him I’m exactly who he thinks I am, but I also didn’t want to assume that’s where he was going, and overwhelm his mind.

Stan just nods and goes to leave. Before he does, he says one final thing, “how is it you haven’t aged a single day, toots?” With that he walked away, closing the door behind him.

[pokemonheritageposts]

you should do porygon TCG rankings just for us because im broke as shit -tf2heritageposts

lmao porygon is my favourite pokemon it's literally the first one i did

with that being said, i didn't really have as much of a method for checking them since it was my first one and i feel like i overlooked some cards that deserved a spot, so have some honourable mentions in no particular order

Porygon2 (Illus. sowsow, Sun & Moon - Unbroken Bonds 156/214)

Porygon2 (illus. Nagomi Nijo, Sword & Shield - Chilling Reign 117/198)

Porygon (illus. Masamo Yamashita, Aquapolis 103/147)

Porygon (illus. Yukiko Baba, X & Y - Ancient Origins 64/98)

Porygon-Z (illus. GOSSAN, Scarlet & Violet - Paradox Rift 214/182)

[valrayne-faeu]

Hi! The brain rot for this AU is still going strong and I have another question. So, we know that Nightmare and Dream don't really get along now, but was there ever a time when they did? How would they have acted with each other when they were younger/before the curse?

they were incredibly close when they were younger! they did everything together up until they were young adults. as their ideas for how they would rule the Seasonal Court started to differ, and the factions of courtiers’ manipulations increased, they started to drift apart. they began to disagree on many things but still got along for the most part, though tensions ran high and they began to argue often.

when Nightmare realised just how far the courtiers were going to maintain their power, even planning to use Dream and himself as puppet rulers, is when things came to a head. Dream didn’t take Nightmare’s concerns seriously, only seeing the courtiers as the fae that raised them and looking out for their best interests. he couldn’t yet see how far the courtiers had influenced his thinking and even his relationship with his brother.

this resulted in Nightmare trying to claim his half of the previous Queen’s power (by eating an fruit of her tree) and prove that he could be a capable king on his own… to disastrous results. only the true ruler(s) of the Court could claim her power, and as he wasn’t a crowned king yet he was afflicted with a curse, and Dream accidentally shot both him and the tree with an arrow. this is when the conflict really escalated.

Dream had badly hurt his brother and split the tree in twain, symbolising the rift in their relationship and also splitting the Court’s magic; in the coming years eventually the magic would settle as Summer and Winter. Nightmare left with those fae loyal to him, killing or banishing the courtiers closest to him and leaving to settling in the castle furthest from the Seasonal Court as he could— this would eventually become the Winter Castle.

by the time Dream realised the extent of the courtiers’ manipulation and outcast them, it was too late. Nightmare asserted himself as a king in need of a kingdom and established harsh borders. unable to compromise with him, Dream was similarly crowned king and the war began. it took centuries of fighting over territory and resources before a truce was established, and centuries still for tensions to calm and peace to reign.

now there is casual movement across borders, Summer/Spring fae living peacefully in Winter/Autumn and vice versa, and even some tourism. every 5 years there’s a big party to celebrate the peace; the Courts alternate between who hosts, with the fae of the other travelling and staying in the host court for weeks of revelry.

Dream and Nightmare’s relationship never really recovered. they’ll be vaguely civil with each other during events and send letters back and forth every so often to keep each other updated on important matters, but they haven’t been friends since that arrow was fired. still, sometimes Nightmare will find himself chuckling at a funny remark Dream makes during a gala, and it feels like maybe someday they can be brothers again.

[devilmen-collector]

The Pope is Dead

Ft. M!MC, the Devil Kings (only the five who have been released), Gamigin and other nobles (only nobles who have appeared stories, except Astaroth, I don't have any story part with Astaroth in my account), the Seraphim

C/W: religious theme, reader's death (natural cause)

This is a revamp of my own fic in OM with similar theme

It has been 72 years...

It has been 72 years since you last saw them. Back then, you were a young man with many lustful desires of the youth. Yet you remember the time you spent with them... It went by in an instant but you were happy.

When did it start to go wrong? When did the conflict start to appear? Maybe because your got into conflict with them when you saw or heard them blaspheme God. After all, you were raised a cradle Catholic, seeing them blaspheme God never sat right with you. Or maybe it was because you saw the danger if devils continued to have influence on humanity. After all, we and they are two different races, with different views towards things. And you knew that many things applied to devils and their society can't be applied to human society, regarding how the society works, government, laws, etc. You foresaw what you believed to be the inevitable destruction if you continued to let human have contact with devils. Or maybe some other reasons. It was very complicated. Sometimes, you don't even know what ultimately led to the rift.

That day 72 years ago, you used the devils' power to pull the strings behind the scene to get yourself elected to the most powerful spiritual position in the world, the Pope. The devils were unhappy but they followed your wish anyway, even though your office is totally opposed to them. They loved you too much for their own good to go against your will.

Right after your election, you exposed the existence of angels and devils to the world. With concreate evidence, even the most convinced atheists and agnostics before had to believe in the existence in the supernatural. Then you made sure the idea that the human society was incompatible in every way to devils became the mainstream and most accepted opinion. You also made sure that people never believed that inventions came from devils, but devils only claimed that to be the case to control human society. Leaders of the world soon declared they would be cutting ties with the devils. You didn't believe them completely, of course, which was why you waged a Crusade. The Crusade was fueled by either the faith or the wrath of 8 billion normal citizen and it was so effective that it's believed that all ties between Earth and Hell were cut off. At least, no concrete evidence or sign or any report sent to you supported a remaining connection between earth and Hell.

You also used the powers that you inherited from your ancestor, Solomon, to make a shield around papal residence, which prevents any devil from coming in.

As for the angels, you tricked the Seraphim that you were on their side now. With what you had done, they believed in you. But you trapped them and turned them into energy sources to sustain the shield around your residence. With their infinite life forces God has given them, they are still alive and curse you every day from under the Vatican basilica, where they are imprisoned.

Even though you did manage to cut off Hell's influence on humanity and make the Church's influence stronger, world peace has never been achieved as you have hoped, many people still live in poverty and starvation. Technology is more advanced, but the world is still the same now when you are at death's door as it was 72 years ago.

*cough cough*

"Holy Father" your secretary uses a piece of tissue to wipe the blood that is flowing from your mouth after the coughing.

"We have little time left." You say, almost like a whisper, but all of those cardinals, bishops, priests and doctors around you understand what you said. Your priest secretary can't even hold back his tears.

"We are the longest-reigning Pope ever, with 72 yeats occupying the Chair of St. Peter, but We have not achieved anything noteworthy, except pushing all devils back to Hell."

"No, Holy Father, you have achieved something we couldn't for more than 20 centuries. God will reward His faithful servant." A cardinal says.

"You are a faithful laborer of the Lord." Says another cardinal.

Suddenly, a Swiss guard runs into the room, his face terrified.

"T-the Devil Kings, t-they are here..." The guard says as he pants.

Ah, the shield protecting the papal residence must have been weakening as I lay dying. You say to yourself. That must be the reason why the Devil Kings can break in now.

"Leave." You say calmly. All the clergy and the guard turn to look at you, surprised by your order.

"Leave." You order again, your tone more firm this time. It's time for you to face them, alone. The children God has committed to your care have nothing to do with this.

Some of them start to cry but all of them leave, but not before whispering among themselves to alert all the exorcists and papal guards. However, the Swiss guard stay.

"Holy Father, I have sworn to protect you, even if I have to sacrifice myself." The Swiss guard says. You know he won't leave so you agree to let him stay.

The doors to your room bursts open, as four devil kings, no, three devil kings and a hundreds of flies step or fly into the room. You can see the young guard standing by your side shudder but he stands firm, determining to protect you, whatever the cost he may have to pay.

"You have changed so much." Beelzebub is the first one to speak as his handsome appearance emerge from hundreds of flies. He doesn't smile.

"We- I see that you guys are still the same." You look at the four devil kings. There's Beelzebub, Mammon, Leviathan, and Lucifer.

So Satan, Asmodeus and Belphegor aren't here. They must be so mad at me that they don't want to see me again. You say within yourself. You aren't surprised that the nobles aren't here. The shield may be weakened because you are dying, allowing the kings to pass through, but you are still breathing and sustaining it with your powers, and it's strong enough to prevent the nobles.

"Not the same ever since you left, Master." Mammon says with a sad voice.

You are surprised to hear Mammon still calling you Master, but you no longer have the strength to point it out.

"I must have hurt you guys a lot."

"Yes, you did." Leviathan says with an angry expression. "You said you would stay in Hell but you betrayed us." However, the scowl is quickly replaced by an expression that looks like Leviathan is holding back his emotions.

Lucifer is the first one to come over to your bed. The guard beside you raises his weapon but he's knocked unconscious soon enough.

"Don't kill him." You say weakly.

Lucifer nods as he takes your hand. He checks your weakening pulse. You can see his eyes sadden. "Oh the fate of all children of Adam." You can hear him whispering, like talking to himself. Other kings also come over and stand beside your bed.

Ah, that's my cue. You close your eyes, awaiting your cruel death, after all, you are on your death bed, you have no regrets.

However, nothing comes.

"Aren't you going to kill me?" You open your eyes and ask.

"No, we're here to take you home." Beelzebub answers.

"Even after my betrayal?"

"We have never gotten over that. But knowing you are dying, we want to take you back first, Master. We will talk about this over in Hell."

"I'm dying, Mammon. I can't be there for the talk."

"That's why we have created a plan."

"We will wait for you to die, so that the office of the Pope will leave you. Then we will have Gamigin revive you."

"And I'll have Orias feed you angel's soul to make you young again."

"It won't work." You say calmly. "It's the sentence on all children of Adam. Gamigin's revival ability won't work. Just as your healing ability won't work on me, Lucifer, because I'm dying of natural cause."

The kings go silent. They know you could be right. Lucifer, more than anyone, knows you are right because none of the healing he is doing works. He only clings to some hope. You know you are crushing their hope, but you have accepted your fate long ago. At least you know they still love you. Thinking about that, tears start to flow from your eyes

"Where are Satan and the others?" You ask.

"Gehenna nobles are here. But Satan...he's very depressed after you left."

"It will be...too...late..."

The vision you start to see changes. The images of yourself and your memories, be it happy or sad, start to flash through your eyes. With each moment of you with the devils, your tears start to shed more as you can't help but say "sorry", "I miss you" and "I love you" in your mind. Your breathing becomes harder and you can't feel your body anymore.

Lord, forgive me, I wish I could have served you more faithfully.

I love you all and I'm sorry.

Is that Leamas and Nina waving at me?

Is that you... Minhyeok? It has been so long.

"You have done what you think is best. Now rest." The young man with long purple hair says and smiles. "With you, my bloodline is extinct, but I won't hold it against you." You can even hear a little bit mischief toward the end.

Outside the papal residence, the devil nobles, led by Sitri, Bimet, Foras and Bael, are engaged in a mostly glaring contest at the guards and exorcists and clergy who have arrived to aid the Pope. There are a few guards lying on the ground, but they are only knocked unconscious.

"No." Sitri suddenly laments as the shield around the palace disintegrated.

"That means..."

"Let's go inside."

As the devils rush inside, the clergy, exorcists and guards follow suit.

As they come into the room, they see the devil kings surrounding you, who are clearly dead.

"Holy Father!" All of Catholics in the room kneel down and weep.

"Who is the Camerlengo?" Lucifer asks and one cardinal stands up in response to his question. The Camerlengo knows what he has to do. He comes over to check your body to confirm if you are dead or not.

"I need a doctor. But all doctors left for safety. Only us clergy returned."

Lucifer turns and nods at Morax, who comes over to check on you. After finishing, he tells the Camerlengo his conclusion. The Camerlengo turns to all in the room and says.

"The Pope is dead."

The Camerlengo turns back to you. He kisses the golden ring on your right hand and takes it out and destroys it in the presence of all, signifying the end of your papacy. The Catholics make the sign of the Cross and say the prayers for the dead. A priest leaves for the adjacent room to say Mass for the deceased pontiff.

Even with the plan, the devil kings don't plan to stop the piety of the Catholics.

"Gamigin."

"Yes, hyung."

Satan arrives when the bells of the Vatican basilica are being rung. Hundreds of people in the square immediately get into prayers as they know what those bells signify. Satan doesn't care and speeds up his vehicle pass them.

Many thoughts are going through Satan's head: anger, depression, the feeling of betrayed, sadness, etc. But the biggest thought in his head is that he wants to meet you again. Everything else, let's sort out later. He speeds up the Akira into the papal residence. The Akira runs through the corridors until it arrives at the room of the Pope. Satan only stops because he can't go in further with the motorcycle. He can't wait to see his beloved alive and well because he believes in the plan. He did feel his bond with the human got broken earlier but he believes in Gamigin's ability to bring his human back.

"Where's MC?" Satan runs in the room and shouts.

"He's right there." Mammon says with a sad voice and points at the bed.

No. Satan rushed over to your bed. No, it can't be.

"Gamigin, why haven't you brought him back yet?" Satan shouts his question at Gamigin, who is holding his staff and stands behind Lucifer.

"Your Majesty, it didn't work. MC's heart will no longer beat." Sitri tries to stay composed as much as possible as he reports to Satan but the hand holding the tea cup is shaking.

Satan turns to the remains of you on the bed.

"OPEN YOUR EYES AND TELL ME THIS IS A CRUEL JOKE, MC!!!" Satan shouts and punches the wall on the side of the bed, making it crack.

All of the human in the room flinch at Satan's wrathful action, however, your lifeless body makes no move.

"I want to take MC's remains back to Gehenna." Satan says as he crunches his teeth.

"No, you can't do that. A Catholic must be buried on consecrated ground." A bunch of clergy react and state the Church's teaching.

"I will kill all of you." Satan crunches his teeth again. The clergy flinch but don't have any intention to back down.

"Your Majesty Satan," Paimon intervenes, "if you kill them, MC will be sad. After all, they are MC's spiritual children.

"I can let you consecrate a plot of land in Paradise Lost." Lucifer says.

"We have to see what he has written in his will." The Camerlengo says. "But his will can only be opened at the meeting of cardinals after the mourning period, but before the next conclave."

"How long before the next conclave?" Leviathan asks.

"15 days, the Canon Law doesn't allow anytime sooner." The Camerlengo answers.

Leviathan scowls but Beelzebub intervenes.

"Then let's wait for 2 weeks. If MC has a clause in his will to be buried in Hell, can you promise you will accept that and give his body to us?"

"Only with the condition of burial on consecrated ground and we can build a chapel around it."

"You have only mentioned the consecrated ground before, now you include a chapel. You human just keep asking more and more." Leviathan scowls again.

Before anyone can say another thing, the ground begins to shake like there is an earthquake. But it soon stops.

"They are here." Lucifer mumbles. "But they won't have any strength left to fight if we are here."

The devils all look outside the window and they see three shadows emerge from underground. They are the three Seraphim, finally released from their bondage after the death of their captor.

The Devil Kings immediately surround the bed to protect the remains of their beloved.

"Where is he? I'm going to cut off his head." Michael growls, he's so angry that blood vessel can be seen on his face.

Sensing the Devil Kings, the Seraphim all look at the papal residence, which is right beside the Vatican basilica.

"He-he's dead." Gabriel says as he looks at the remains on the bed through the window.

Seeing that you're dead, Raphael begins to laugh maniacally non-stop, so much that he has to hug his stomach mid-air.

"The kings are here. Let's...retreat for today." Michael says as his wings soar toward the sky. Gabriel follows suit.

"Remember to send funeral invitation." Raphael says finally before following his two brothers.

"Let continue our discussion later." The Camerlengo says after the commotion has subsided.

Some other people enter the room and walk toward the remains of the Pope.

"What are you doing?" Satan crunches his teeth as the newcomers.

"Calm down, Satan. They are here to take the body away for bathing and vesting."

All the devils don't want to leave you but they all back down to let people do their job.

...

"You really are so beautiful, Master, it's like all the precious things in this world are created to adorn you." Mammon says as he looks at the papal remains put on display inside the Vatican basilica of St. Peter.

You lying there, on a dark green catafalque. You are vested with red vestments, your hands are vested with red gloves embroidered with the Holy Name of the Savior, your legs wear traditional red papal shoes embroidered with a golden cross on each one. On each shoe is also adorned a ruby, which came from Mammon's treasury. A golden cross and a rosary were also put in your hands. The golden cross was from Lucifer, an accessory from the time he was still a Seraph. On your head, a golden mitre, with two folds, representing the Old Testament and the New Testament, the two "horns" of a bishop. Surrounding the catafalque are 72 candles made from pure beeswax, each represents a year of your pontificate.

The kings and their nobles stand on the upper floor of the basilica, looking at thousands of mourners paying respect to you. Each cardinal who comes over sprinkles holy water on your remains and kisses your hand. Priests and religious gather around your remains to pray for your soul.

At an occasion like this, Bimet would have already gone to collect funeral money. However, this time, he doesn't want to do that, but only to look at your "sleeping" face. Eligos standing next to him can't stop his sniffles. Valefor standing behind Mammon looking at your remains, now that nothing can be done to bring you back to them, he wishes he could stand guard beside your body as the last thing he could do for you.

Foras doesn't say anything but his heart is broken, even his beautiful horns seem to be darker than normal. Barbatos looks at the withered rose in his hand. In his heart currently there is a complete solar eclipse that has covered the sun of his life, the sun which he knows will never shine its light on him again. Glasyalabolas can't help but get angry with you, with Leviathan, with everyone, and with himself. Angry with you for being a traitor to his love. Angry with Leviathan for his bad decision of not pursuing you when the problem starts and only meet you when you are dying. Angry with everyone who separate you from him, including God. And angry with himself for failing the promise to create a kingdom with only you two. Orias drops the angel's soul in his hand. It was the angel's soul that was supposed to be used to make you young again. But what use is it when you are dead?

Bael is the only one staying in the basilica of Abyss camp, beside Beelzebub, closing his eyes remembering your smile and each moment you called his name sweetly. Stolas has gone somewhere to shoot his guns to his heart's content, calling it the last salute for you, who are "a fool". Naberius and Amon are staying with him, not speaking a word.

"It doesn't come true." Leraye remembers he once said he saw you both walking together on the streets of Gehenna, enjoying your time together for many years to come. But that never comes true. He's wondering of the only target he has missed is your heart, he fails in convincing you to stay in Hell. Paimon tries to console Leraye, but his heart is also breaking apart. Zagan doesn't say a word but he has lost an important person he must protect. Belial tries not to shed any tear, he has to stay strong for Jjyu. Sitri couldn't hold his tea cup anymore and it is dropped to the ground, shattering into countless pieces.

Andrealphus holds tight to his scythe, as if he needs something to hold tight to after he lost you. They say twins share a soul. He lost half of his souls when his brother was killed. But your death breaks to pieces the remaining half.

"It's my fault. I can't bring him back." Gamigin blames himself.

"No, it's not your fault." Each time Gamigin blames himself, a brother of his in Paradise Lost will reject that. They don't say anything more comforting because they have no strength to do that right now.

Each of the kings' heart is broken but each of them knows they have to stay strong, as for their nobles and people. They will only mourn your death in private.

Lucifer is the only one walking in the lower floor. He doesn't join the line of mourners but wandering around aimlessly, no one stops him either. Finally, he stops to look at the mosaic of the Eternal Father stretching his hand out on the dome of the basilica.

Why? Father, why? I have served you faithfully since the beginning of time, I had one source of happiness, and you took him away from me. Why? SAY SOMETHING! ANSWER ME!

...

In a graveyard in Korea, where almost no one comes on such a mourning day for the whole world, there is a little lump floating above a grave. He poured a glass of soju on the ground of the grave.

"Minhyeok, the son of Solomon...went over to meet you. Have you two...reunited? I hope you did. Please...send my regards to him." Ppyong says even though he can't stop his sniffles.

The end.

...

I have an epilogue but decided to not write it and let you guys decide the final burial place :)

[fazedlight]

Kara was supposed to be a Worldkiller.

Let me explain why I wrote Darkness in All Things.

The crux of it really starts with this canon line. In 3x11, Kara ventures to Fort Rozz to find Jindah Kol Rozz - the priestess witch who might know how to defeat Reign.

It's there that Jindah - who emphasizes that there is "darkness in all things, in every soul you know" - reveals that Reign is not the only worldkiller. The others will awake, and unite beneath the banner of Reign.

The Power. The Pestilence. The Purity.

But who is Power?

To answer who is Power, we may need to start with who are the worldkillers.

In the comics, the worldkillers were created by Zor-El (who also experimented on his daughter). There were actually many worldkillers before Krypton's destruction, including Reign and her three followers.

This show has a way of reinventing comic plots. The black mercy plot, Red Son, World's Finest - all comic lore that was reimagined for Arrowverse Kara.

In season 3, we see Erica Durance (famous for Smallville's Lois Lane) take on the role of Alura. This in itself implies something big for Alura. It's not too much of a stretch to think that maybe she would take Zor-El's place as creator of the worldkillers.

And it would sure explain Sam's nightmare above, which we see at the very end of 3x01, and is never addressed again.

So we have a hint that there may be a fourth worldkiller named Power, and that perhaps Alura would take Zor-El's role in the comic of having created them. Why Kara?

Kara dreams of the worldkillers - for reasons she doesn't quite understand. But she only dreams of three. If Jindah says there are four, why don't we see the fourth in Kara's dream?

I've spoiled it already, of course: the dreamer is one.

So why didn't we see Worldkiller Kara?

It's important to note that an abusive showrunner was fired in the middle of the season - prompting rewrites & the odd midspring break.

It explains why the nightmare with Alura was never revisited, why Lena wasn't made evil despite the showrunner saying otherwise, and why Sam survived when the plot & casting call hinted at Sam's death & Ruby being adopted by Alex. It also explains why the show emphasized Alura's line from the pilot - you will do extraordinary things - 3x02 Triggers.

I could be wrong, of course - but it's still an idea that ate at me. What would it look like for Kara have to wrestle with a destructive purpose? How would the team defeat the worldkillers if their strongest fighter was one of them? What would that mean for the rift that was developing between Lena and Kara with the kryptonite and spying?

... which is why I wrote Darkness in All Things.

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

Can you please make an Kenny Omega X Fem y/n story fluff

Reader had an hard/tough week at work and no off day to recharge and he's makin sure that she feels loved and that he's always there for her?!

Mondays

Kenny Omega X FemReader

Kenny Omega Masterlist Main Masterlist (Word count 1.1K)

I didn’t hear Y/n come in last night. I didn’t even know she took a red-eye home after revolution. I woke up this morning to find Y/n lying next to me. In a peaceful slumber, catching up on much-needed rest. As much as I was happy that she was home I couldn't imagine how tired she was. I knew more than anyone how hard Y/n had been working to ensure the upcoming PPV would be perfect. I had grown so used to traveling with my wife over the years that it was weird not having her at home with me. I didn’t even care that I wasn’t able to wrestle, I missed traveling from town to town and watching from a backstage monitor all the young talent in AEW. Y/n hadn’t been home in two weeks, I knew she must be exhausted. That is why I wanted to plan a little something something for the 72 hrs Y/n would be home. I decided I would make breakfast in bed, surprise her with a spa day and even go out to dinner. 

“Good morning beautiful,” I said to my wife as she walked down the stairs tiredly. “Morning” “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed” “Aw, that’s so sweet”  “Well since you’re up why don’t you sit down and we can have breakfast?” I poured Y/n some coffee and layed out the variety of goods I prepared for her. The two of us sat in a comfortable silence for a while until Y/n broke the silence. “What did you think of the show?” She asked “I thought it was good. I can’t believe they had Sting lose his retirement match to the Bucks. I wasn’t expecting Flair to cost Sting the match either” “Yeah, that was not my decision. In my eyes that creates a rivalry between Sting and Flair that doesn’t need to be there. As long as I live I will not let Ric Flair wrestle in an AEW ring. I don’t want to be held accountable for that trainwreck. Plus, Sting is retired now. We did all of that hard work for him to have a good send-off. Why would he retire for five minutes just to come back and wrestle Flair? It doesn’t make sense!”

“Sounds like you have a lot on your plate” 

“You have no idea. Like, I thought I would be okay not wrestling anymore Ken. I thought being a Vice President would be fine, writing storylines and doing all that Jazz was fine. But- I don’t think I can take it anymore. I’m going insane! Why do we keep signing talent left right and center when we have SO much talent we don’t use. If you want new talent, fine, but release some people then. I know how hard that is but it has to be done. It’s not personal It’s business. It’s like we can never win. People bitch and complain about using the same talent every week but when we use different people they complain they don’t get to see their favs. If we sign someone great! Then people complain we have too many wrestlers, then it crates a rift and everyone gets fucked. Like Jay White for example. Remember how HARD I had to work to get him signed, You and I had to do so much for that to happen. He is an amazing wrestler who deserves to be doing so much more than what he is doing now. He was supposed to be the new Champion after MJF who by the way should have NEVER broken your record for the longest reign, But then of course no one likes to listen to Y/n anymore and that never happened. If you wanted MJF to win, fine but why randomly drop the title to Samoa Joe, I know Max is injured but that is why I said to drop the title to Jay! Now everything is fucked and everyone is complaining and I don’t know what to do because all my ideas aren’t being used and everyone is pissed off!” 

I didn’t say anything, I just sat in peace across the table listening carefully as Y/n got everything off her chest. She needed this. 

“Don’t get me wrong I like Bullet Club Gold but did Jay really leave NJPW and Bullet Club just to be back in this new version of Bullet Club? The Bang Bang Scissor gang is absolutely ridiculous. He should be a world champion not in this super faction. I just can’t Kenny! At every press conference, I get asked when I will make my return and when I will wrestle again. They know I won’t wrestle again and it makes me feel like I’m disappointing everyone.” I saw the tears start to form and then fall during that last sentence, god how I hated people. 

“Y/n you're not disappointing anyone. You don’t owe it to anyone to go back to wrestling. They need to learn to let it go, your mental and physical health is more important.” I told Y/n as I went over to comfort her. “How about we move somewhere more comfortable?” I asked. The two of us moved to the living room, continuing our conversation as I held Y/n in my arms.

“I’m really sorry you have to deal with this baby, I wish I could help.” I told her sincerely. “It’s not your fault. I’m just under a lot of stress right now. I just really missed you, It’s been hard without you.” I felt a wave of guilt wash over me. I knew none of this was my fault but I wished I was able to be there with Y/n so she didn't have to go through this alone. She flew in at 4am just so she could get a day at home before the next show. 

“Is there anything I can do for you? I can book a spa day. A nice massage is always good!” I hated seeing her like this, poor thing looked so tired. 

“No, I just want to stay here. Can you just hold me? Can we spend the day cuddling in bed,  eating chocolate?” Y/n asked, her face buried in my chest

“Whatever you want my love,” I told her “Maybe later you can give me a massage?” “Of course baby. I love you, so very much Y/n” “I love you too Kenny”  "I'm always going to be here for you. I'm just one text, one phone call, one plane trip away. If you ever need me I'll be there"