#my deepest condolences to her family

[theroyalsandi]

BREAKING NEWS!!!

Japanese Imperial Family - Princess Yuriko, the Princess Mikasa, the oldest member of the Japanese imperial family and great-aunt of Emperor Naruhito, died of natural causes at a Tokyo hospital early Friday morning, the Imperial Household Agency said. She was 101 years old.

A member of Japan's former nobility, she married Prince Mikasa, the youngest brother of Emperor Hirohito, posthumously known as Emperor Showa, in 1941 at age 18, after graduating from the Gakushuin Women's Academy. Her husband died of heart failure in 2016 at age 100.

The couple had three sons and two daughters. Their sons -- Princes Tomohito, Katsura and Takamado -- died in 2012, 2014 and 2002, respectively. | November 15, 2024

Yuriko, the Princess Mikasa in an official photo taken in May 2023 at her home in Tokyo ahead of her 100th birthday the following month. (Photo courtesy of the Imperial Household Agency)

[avinox]

The woman that's been in charge of the bakery since I can remember passed away today

[captainamericasmotercycle]

Hi I was wondering if you could do a fic with Jacaerys x sister! Reader where they are at a gala/feast and ppl keep flirting with reader so Jave gets jealous and stuff. So when they go to their room at the end of the feast Jace makes her ride his face and makes sure she’s loud enough for everyone to hear that she’s his.

warnings: typical canon incest, jace x sister!reader (father is not specified), no dance of the dragons au, 18+ minors DNI, jace hates aemond in every universe, everyone lives au!!!, jace eating u out like a man starved, nyra and daemon giving kris jenner vibes???, cursing, the targtowers and targaryens are besties (kind of)

For your younger brother Lucerys’s name day of ten and five, your family decided it would be best to throw a feast for him.

He was becoming older and would soon inherit Driftmark, he needed a celebration to show that he is becoming a man and no longer a mere child.

Since your mother became Queen and your older half-brother became her heir, many people were interested in the lives of the royal family, so Luke’s name day was flooded with people from all over Westeros.

You were all dolled up in a fancy gown, you hair was braided so elegantly and intricately, and you moved with such grace that most eyes were on you throughout the night.

Luke joked to Jace that you may be able to find a lord husband tonight, but at his suggestion, Jace tensed up and his face hardened.

You sat with your family at the elevated table, you mother was in the middle, Daemon next to her, his daughters on his side of the table, you sat between Jace and your mother, and then sat Luke, Joffrey, Viserys, and Aegon.

You watched in awe at the celebration, only imagining how grand a wedding could be.

People danced, wore lavish clothing, gorged themselves in the food, and occasionally approached the table to offer up gifts to your brother for his name day.

It was about halfway through the night when highborn men started to approach you, which was uncommon up until recent.

Every since you had turned ten and eight, and became more developed in certain places, you were consistently approached for your hand.

Lord Oscar Tully was the first to approach your table, you smiled gently at him, knowing his new situation.

“Hello, Princess. You look lovely tonight.”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, a dark color dusting your cheeks, he was quite the charmer, and not bad looking either, “Thank you, Lord Tully. I heard about your grandsire, I offer my deepest condolences.”

He nods solemnly, “Thank you, Princess. I may have lost my grandsire, but I have gained a deep power and a great kingdom… one I hope you will consider in your future.”

You smiled gently, “I heard the Riverlands are beautiful, I would most definitely love to see them someday. Is there something I can do for you?”

“I just wanted to come and offer you some company, if you’ll have me?”

You looked to your mother who smiled at you, knowingly. You looked back to the young lord and nodded, “I’d love to.”

You came around the table, taking his arm in yours as he led you to the floor to dance.

Jace’s gaze hardened and he downed his cup of wine, slamming it down on the table harsher than intended. Luke and Joffrey giggled at him, Viserys and Aegon following their older brothers’ actions.

Luke leaned over to his brother, “Careful, your face might get stuck like that.”

“Shut up, Luke.”

“I’m just saying…”

“He’s not good enough for her—”

“You say that about every man and I could hardly agree with you, most of the Riverlands looks to House Tully for direction and leadership; she would be in a great position there as their lady.”

“Do you want me to leave the table and kill myself?”

“All I am saying is that maybe you should focus on yourself instead of our sister… you need to wed as well, create heirs for the Seven Kingdoms.”

Jace rolled his eyes, “You sound like Mother.”

Rhaenyra whipped her head to her sons, “I think he is right, Jace.”

“Of course you do.”

“You are too invested in something that does not concern you Jacaerys. Perhaps you need to start looking for your own Lady Wife.”

“I do not wish to wed.”

“I hate to tell you, but your wishes do not matter to the Seven Kingdoms.”

Jace sighed, moving his gaze back to you and Lord Tully. You smiled as the two of you danced. Jace’s jealously only grew as he watched.

Oscar Tully was not good enough for you, no one is good enough for you… except Jace himself.

As the song ended, a new one started. Luke left the table with Rhaena, Joffrey and the twins were led to their chambers to be put to bed, your mother was in an intent conversation with Corlys and Rhaenys, and you had just been approached by Gwyane Hightower.

From the look on Gwyane’s face, Jace knew Gwyane was being smug with you, he scoffed, thinking that you would never be charmed by him, but when he saw you smiling, standing too close for comfort to him, he almost puked his supper all over the floor.

You danced and flirted with Gwyane Hightower for a bit of the night, making Jace more and more jealous.

As you finished with Gwyane, you returned to your seat, a big smile on your face.

“Enjoy your dance?” Jace asked, venom lacing his tongue.

“I did, as a matter of fact, Gwyane is… such a lovely knight. He’s a knight… did you know?”

Before Jace could respond, you were hugged lightly from behind by Helaena. She kissed you gently on the cheek, “Quite the collection of suitors you have assembled tonight.”

You giggled lightly, “I know! Quite fun, to be honest.”

Jace grunted from beside you, making you and Helaena both turn to him, “Are you alright?”

“Just fine,” he held his lips in a thin tight line.

You went back to your conversation with Helaena about her uncle, Gwayne and Lord Tully, when you were finally met by another suitor.

“Sister. Niece. Nephew,” Aemond stood in front of you, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Uncle,” you looked at him with raised brows.

“I was just wondering if you would join me for a dance. I’ve seen all of these useless men that call themselves suitors and figured you needed a more distinguished partner, such as a prince.”

You blinked slowly at him, Helaena nudged you with a smile. You quickly glanced at Jace and thought he looked like he was about to roll over and die.

You stood and came around the table to meet him, you took his offered hand, “Let’s see how well you dance, Uncle.”

Helaena watched the two of you walk away, “A great pair, the two of them, they’ll be fantastic together,” she took a grape off your plate, popping it in her mouth and walking off.

This was Jace’s last straw, seeing you dance with Aemond might have been the most painful thing he’s ever done in his entire life. After watching for just a couple moments, he could not stand it any longer.

His mother rolled her eyes, watching him seethe, “Jace.”

“What?”

“Go get her.”

“What?”

“Go. I can see it in your eyes.”

Jace stood, rushing down to you and grabbing your arm, stealing you away from Aemond.

You followed him, shocked at the sudden behavior. He yanked you to his chambers, leaving the doors open.

Once in his room, you pulled away from him, “Jacaerys! What is the meaning of this?”

“You! You are the meaning of this!” His yelling made you take a step back, he stalked up, putting his hand on either side of your face, holding on tightly, “You think you can tease me like that? Taking any man who offered his hand?”

“Jace-”

“You know they are no good for you. They may be nobles, but are they heir to the Iron Throne? You are simply doing this to upset me.”

Your voice became small, “I did not mean to upset you.”

You could feel wetness pooling in your small clothes beneath your gown. He shoved his face into yours, harshly smashing his lips on yours.

You stumbled back at the forced, you pushed him back to take a breath and think about what you are doing. After a couple deep breaths, you rushed at him, nearly mounting him.

He groped and grasped at every part of you, you doing the same to him. His lips moved down to your neck, sucking lightly at it.

You threw your head back as his teeth grazed the sensitive area of your neck. The two of your shuffled your way to his bed.

“Jace… the doors, someone might see or hear.”

“I hope they do.”

“But—”

He pushed you on his bed, “I want them to hear how good your brother can make you feel, how they will never be me, how they will never taste you.”

He spread your legs, pulling off your underclothes. He grabbed your thighs, flipping you to straddle his face.

You fell forward, steadying yourself up with your hands. You pushed yourself up back in a sitting position.

Jace yanked at your legs, pulling you further down onto his face. You felt his nose buried into your cunt, rubbing against your sensitive bud.

You were about to voice your concerns about suffocating him, but you suddenly gasped out as you felt his tongue lick a long stripe down your maidenhood.

He thrusted his tongue in and out of you roughly, you screamed out for everyone in the hall to hear, “Gods! Jace!”

Visceral animalistic sounds came from the back of your throat, sounds you had never heard before.

In the hall, the attention of the crowds was taken by your yells, guards grabbed at their swords, you mother rose suddenly at your scream, Daemon was on his feet and ready for an oncoming attack.

One of Jace’s personal guards came rushing into the room to promise that no one was in danger and that the two of you were… together in his chambers.

Your mother and Daemon’s faces instantly reddened. They shared a look of embarrassment and pride. On one hand, as your parents, they wanted to kill you both, but as the Queen and King Consort, they knew the realm would be in their children’s hands at their demise.

Tears rolled down your face as Jace fucked you with his tongue. You had never felt such pleasures in your entire life. It made you understand why lowborn men seek out such endeavors at the disloyalty of their wives.

Jace couldn’t get enough of you. You tasted sweeter than anything that’s ever touched his tongue. His tongue moved faster as you panted, moaned, and groaned above him.

As his pace quickened, you felt a tight coiling in your lower stomach.

“Jace… fuck!”

At your vulgarity, he quickened his pace. You came fast and harder than you ever thought you could. Jace took all of your juices into his mouth, not leaving a drop of your sweet release.

You collapsed next to him, panting outrageously. He lay next to you, breathless, laughing to himself. You grabbed a pillow, hitting him the face with it. He took it from you, tossing it on the ground.

He came to hover over you, trapping you beneath his figure. You leaned down and kissed your lips gently, you could still taste your arousal on his lips.

You stared at him with a smile, “I suppose you think making the entire Keep believe we were under attack is funny?”

“It was not I that made them think we were under attack. If I am not mistaken, it was you screaming your head off.”

“You were the one who yanked me away from the celebration.”

“Yes, but you were the one who made me.”

You scoffed, sitting up against the headboard, “Made you?”

“Yes, dancing with that Tully, the fucking Hightower knight, and worse of all, Aemond.”

“Mmm, sounds like you are jealous?” You taunted him sarcastically.

“They are not deserving of you.”

“And you are?”

“I am the heir to the Iron Throne and your blood. I am the most deserving.”

“So are you suggesting I should become Queen one day?”

“Hmm, I do not remember offering my hand to you to wed…”

You hit him in the stomach with the back of your hand, “You just had the entire Seven Kingdoms hear my screams while you were buried up my dress. I would slaughter you and become the heir myself if you did not ask for my hand after that.”

He took your hand in his, kissing the back of your palm, “I shall talk to Mother in the morn.”

You stared at your intertwined hands, “We should return…”

“You think we are able to return after the little show we put on?”

“I suppose you are right,” you sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He got up, leaving you on his bed. He walked to his chamber doors, locking them.

He returned to you, laying on his back, “Perhaps we should just rest now, we shall deal with our consequences tomorrow.”

You lay with him, resting your head on his chest, he brought his hand to rub your arm, coaxing you to sleep.

He pressed a couple kiss to your hairline, “You will be my wife soon enough, dōna tala.”

[nebuliias]

Your probably busy with your own life but is it alright if I could request reader being the younger sibling of Sunday and Robin

Do you know the scene where Robin gets 'killed'? what if instead of Robin it was the reader? how would Sunday and Robin react to the news of their younger sibling getting 'killed'?

Thank you for your time and have a great day/noon/night!!

SYNOPSIS. . . With the Charmony Festival nearing by the day, the revered Halovian siblings start getting anxious when their kin hasn’t been heard of for days.

CHARACTERS FEATURED. . . sunday and robin

CW: hurt/no comfort (I tried), gn and sibling! reader, they’re your biological older siblings, potential spoilers, platonic, like one mention of Gopher Wood, reader is aged 16 and a Nameless

— A/N’s note: HIIII EVERYONE. wow i actually posted something since who knows how long LMAO. so sorry for lack of updates, motivation has been very low and dry lately. anyways NEW FORMAT everyone

The air in Dewlight Pavilion was thick with worry and tension as the Charmony Festival’s date approached. The legendary siblings, Sunday and Robin, were together in the study room, their faces betraying their concern.

Their precious youngest sibling—basically, you—had promised yesterday to pay a visit in Moment of Morning Dew since you haven’t seen them for so long, considering your occupation as a Nameless.

Normally, Sunday, your protective older brother, would let your delays slide—if only it wasn’t for the fact that you were three hours late.

As for Robin, she nervously combed her fingers through her hair while adjusting her dainty neck pieces. “Brother, perhaps you should sit down for awhile? You’ve been pacing back and forth for awhile. Maybe they’re just visiting some shop or strolling—”

“Robin, it’s been three long hours,” he abruptly stated. “I’m pretty sure they’re not strolling around at some random park in the Dreamscape. They’re always punctual, you know that!” The man sighed, eventually sitting down beside his younger sister.

Poor Sunday, he was visibly anxious and worried. He plucked at several loose hair strands and feathers from the wings by his ears. Ever the neat perfectionist, it was ironic to see him in such a distressed state. But Robin couldn’t blame him.

It had been a pretty long time after all…

Just when she was about to excuse herself to use to the restroom, a Bloodhound guard came bursting through the grand wooden doors, a manilla folder in his sweaty hand.

“Ah, Mr. Sunday..! Oh, and hello, Miss Robin,” he panted. “My deepest apologies for interrupting whatever was happening, but I have urgent news to report.”

Sunday rapidly approached the man. “What happened? Hold on, is this about..?”

“Yes,” the Bloodhound confirmed. “Another person has fallen victim to ‘Death.’ We’ve gathered enough information, but I’m afraid you’ll be displeased who said person was.”

There was a moment of silence as Sunday split the folder open, revealing three sheets of paper. His hand trembled ever so slightly as he picked up a sheet, already thinking the worst.

Please, don’t let it be who I think it is.

Robin, who was peering over his shoulder, audibly gasped, stumbling back with a gloved hand at her mouth, muffling the incoming sobs. “No.. No, it can’t be!”

The Bloodhound bowed deeply, his face contorted in distress. “My condolences, Mr. Sunday and Miss Robin, but Y/N.. was killed by the Memory Zone Meme.”

The siblings stared blankly at the papers spread out on the desk.

•••

Name: Y/N L/N

Family: Gopher Wood, Dreammaster and adoptive father | Sunday, Oak Family Head and older brother | Robin, cosmic superstar and older sister.

Age: 16

Affliation: Nameless

Cause of death: Memory Zone Meme, “Death”—stab wound through the heart.

•••

There were several photographs taken of the scene, and Robin felt overwhelming nausea at the mere sight of it. Her body went rigidly stiff, her chest rose and fell slowly, and the world around her blurred. One hand shielded her lips and the other was put over her heart.

Meanwhile, Sunday’s strong-willed heart shattered. He felt so many things at once: shock, fury, sadness, despair—basically every negative emotion wrote in the dictionary. Yet at the same time, he didn’t know what to feel.

After awhile, the Halovian idol stood up, her legs now jittery from the sudden revelation. She took in a shaky deep breath before exhaling, not daring to break down in front of her brother. “…I’m going to use the restroom.” With that, she slowly walked out of the study, leaving the revered leader alone with his turmoil.

None of them couldn’t think straight, but who could blame them? Their sibling was dead. Their youngest sibling was dead. Their kin was dead. Their determined Nameless. Their sibling was dead.

Sunday, now isolated, suddenly felt hot beneath his clothing. His mind was disturbed, and his blue-gray wings twitched madly. He didn’t know how to act, but in the end, he let out a cry and ripped the papers apart along with the photographs before throwing the folder in a nearby trash can.

Oh, how he felt like diving into it himself. He felt like trash itself now—unwanted, crumbled, and torn apart.

Back with Robin, she ran past several Oak Family servants and dashed into the restroom, madly locking the door to ensure no one would run into her. She fell against the toilet and heaved into it, her nausea reaching its brink.

After the ordeal, she wiped her mouth before staring at herself in the mirror, unable to hold back her sadness anymore. Transparent tears poured down her flawless face, carving dry rivers in their run. Sorrowful sobs sounded from her throat, her once melodious voice now gone harsh.

Poor you. Poor, poor, poor, you. You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve any of this. You didn’t deserve to have your life crushed like a ladybug.

Just.. why..?

all rights reserved © nebuliias. do not copy, re-upload, or plagiarize my fics. if you see anyone doing this to my work, LET ME KNOW.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Wasteland, Baby

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 3.4k

TW: Mentions of Murders, mentions of suicide, discussion of suicide, trauma, emotional turmoil, death, arguing, abandonment issues, commitment issues, Angst, some fluff

A/N: Thanks for bearing with me as I try to get off the struggle bus y'all. here is the highly anticipated part 2 of Stick Season !

All the fear and the fire of the end of the world Happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl Happens great, happens sweet Happily, I'm unfazed here, too

It had been three years since you left the BAU and you had just turned down a job at the FBI from Erin Strauss. You never heard from her again. 

But you did attend her funeral in D.C a week later.

You didn’t alert any of the BAU that you were returning for her funeral, since you could only imagine the pain they were feeling. 

The plane ride was filled with thoughts of what life would have been like if you had rejoined the FBI. Maybe she wouldn't have died. Maybe she’d still be calling you and sending you email after email with job offers. 

You had quickly stopped by the wake, the day before, to pay your respects, and give Strauss’ family your deepest condolences. It was painful, seeing someone you spoke to last week, stiff, lifeless, in a coffin where they will be for the rest of time. 

But the worst part was the burial. 

Blending in at a funeral has never been a strong suit of the BAU’s, except for you. You were calm, respectful, and blended in with the rest of the spectators. 

Until you looked across the circle and saw Aaron Hotchner looking directly at you. Whatever he had been feeling before, was quickly wiped away when you looked back at him, confirming his suspicions that you were here, in the graveyard. The look on his face was replaced with a more somber one as he redirected his attention back to the priest, but you knew you would be unable to just leave now that you had been spotted. 

Once she had been lowered into the ground, Hotch made his way towards you, catching his colleges interested. Where was he going? Who was he looking for?

“Y/n.” 

You smiled at him. It didn’t reach your eyes, but it wasn;t fake either. 

“It’s good to see you Hotch.” 

“I didn’t know you were going to be here today.” 

You nodded and looked over as the rest of the people migrated towards their cars to go to the reception afterwards. “I didn’t make it public information, considering I was planning on leaving after the ceremony. I’m just here to pay my respects Hotch.” 

“She called you.” 

“Yes she did.” 

“And she said you turned it down.” 

“I did.”

“Why.” 

“Hotch, please.” 

He took your elbow and pulled you away from the people, giving the two of you some semblance of privacy. 

“Will you at least think about it?” 

“What is there to think about Hotch? I don’t want to—” 

“I wish you wouldn’t lie to me. I know you miss it Y/n. I’m not just some colleague, and you know that.” 

You closed your eyes and pinched your brow. You knew coming to this funeral was a mistake. But some part of you, one that you had silenced for a very long time, was starting to break through. 

“We can talk later.” 

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

“I cannot believe you’re going back.” 

You sighed and continued to pack up everything you owned into boxes. You had only broken down the ones from a few years ago–that same part of you had saved them for whenever you had recognized you were ready to be back in Washington D.C. 

“Don’t ignore me. I thought you were done with hunting bad guys and certain doctors with glasses.” 

You slammed your hands on the table, causing Lucille to jump. 

“Sorry.” You muttered and slowly sunk to the ground, deciding it was just easier to sit on the ground and have a breakdown rather than talk it out. 

“I’m not going back for him…I’m going back for me. This…” You ran a hand through your hair. “This is n’t what I was meant to do, Luce. I’m not a teacher. I’m okay at it, but…I was meant to be in the field. Teaching is challenging, but not in the way I need. And fuck, I love my kids, you know that I do, but it’s just…”

“It’s not who you are.” She came and sat down next to you, taking your hand in hers. “I’m gonna miss you asshole.” 

You rested your head on her shoulder and squeezed her hand. “I’m going to miss you so much.” You whispered back to her. 

“You have to visit me. I’ll get lonely up here.” 

A smile spread across your face as a tear slowly tracked down your cheek. “ You have my permission to hunt me down and beat the shit out of me if I don’t.” 

“Oh don’t worry, I will.” 

All the things yet to come are the things that have passed Like the holding of hands, like the breaking of glass Like the bonfire that burns That all words in the fight fell to

Your desk stayed pretty empty for the first two weeks you were back—like you were terrified that if you got too comfortable, life would pull the rug right out from under you again and you’d have to leave. 

It was Garcia who first noticed this, watching as you’d pack everything up into your tote bag each night before you would go home. She didn’t say anything about it though, since you were not the same girl the BAU had grown to know. 

You were different, quieter. You spoke when you had something to add, or to correct somebody, but you never participated in the banter; you never stayed longer than absolutely necessary. If the group had decided to surprise you at your new apartment, they would find it covered in boxes—walls bare, fridge almost empty, only essentials like clothes and toothbrush unpacked. 

But you had never been better. Hotch had you start consulting side cases when you came back, a way to get you used to the routine of being back in the office, back in the FBI. You would consult up to three new cases a day, still helping with those that would call back a day or week later for updates or more help. They watched as you easily solved things in minutes, that might have taken the team hours. 

The first time Morgan called you ‘Girl Genius’ to your face, you punched him in the arm (admittedly a bit harshly). But he wasn’t wrong. You could feel the continuous excitement flowing through your veins; your muscles flexing as you settled back into the thing you were the best at. 

You were different, but better. 

Spencer noticed this too. He watched as you confidently answered every question thrown at you. He watched as you consulted on cases and noticed patterns he had missed. 

Spencer had missed you, badly. He knew he fucked up when he had left that night, needed to go and he spend the night away, thinking about his life; his future. Panic had flooded his body at the thought of you being the one forced to take care of him, forced to deal with his shit history and addictive personality and his annoying ass rambles. He didn’t want to subject you to that. 

But then he remembered the look on your face—the pure excitement and adoration at the thought of being able to spend every single minute of your life calling him yours. And once the panic had subsided, he felt that same joy. 

When he got back to the house, you weren’t there. 

You weren’t at work either. 

You had just vanished, and about a day later, all of your things had disappeared too. 

And Spencer was a fucking wreck. He was useless at work, and he spent so much time trying to find you, but Penelope wasn’t able to find a thing, and by the time she did, it had been months later, and you clearly didn’t want to be found. 

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

It didn’t help that seeing you again in Vermont made him want to melt on the spot. A great deal of relief washed over him, seeing you were alive and in front of him. But then he felt the anger rise in him. You had abandoned him, you had just disappeared without a second thought. 

Then he remembered the look on your face when he panicked about marrying you.

You had thought he didn’t want to marry you. 

You had no idea that he felt like he was the the problem, and if he told you know, it would just sound like a fucking excuse. 

Watching you walk back into the bullpen and set up at your desk was another slap in the face. It feels like nobody tells him anything, because they don’t. But then he realized that only Hotch knew about it because everyone froze on the spot seeing you sitting at your desk, working. 

At his desk, he would just watch you. On the plane, he would watch you. And he tried so hard to be nonchalant about it, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Your hair, your legs, your arms, your lips—he wanted to take your hand and never let you go, fusing your skin together so he could be with you always. 

He was in love with you. And he thought you would rather die than be seen with him again. 

If only he knew that you felt the same way—you loved him right back. 

And that day that we'll watch the death of the sun To the cloud and the cold and those jeans you have on And you'll gaze unafraid as they sob from the city roofs

After about three months, infinite pining, a few longing glances passed to one another, and incessant whining from Derek Morgan, you and Spencer Reid found yourselves together at coffee one morning. 

After about a month later, you found yourself back in his apartment, lips grazing his, not being able to tell where his body ended and yours started. 

Then, the next day, he told you he loved you. 

He didn’t see you for a whole week afterwards. 

But when he walked into work that monday, and you were sitting at your desk, completely unbothered, he took it upon himself to make you talk to him. 

No one else was around, except for Hotch. But his office door was closed, and Morgan wouldn’t be around for another ten minutes anyways. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” 

You turned around in your chair and glared at him. “Excuse me?” 

“You disappeared for a week, no word about where you were going, not even telling me you were leaving.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Not now Spence.” 

“I love you.” 

“What?” 

“I still love you.” 

Your jaw dropped. “Spencer…” 

“I’m dead serious Y/n. When you weren’t here after you spent the night, I lost my fucking mind. I thought I had lost you—again. And I wasn’t about to go through that again. I had fucked up once before and I—I thought you had realized you didn’t want to be with me anymore and you had left again.” 

You were silent as he rambled on. 

“When you left three years ago, I lost my fucking mind. I sat here, staring at your desk hoping you would materialize out of thin air just so that I could apologize to you. And then when you didn’t show up, I begged Penelope to tell me where you had run off to, so I could go and find you and beg for you to listen to me while I got on my hands and knees to beg for your forgiveness. You thought I didn’t want to marry you, but I was terrified because I thought you wouldn’t want to marry me. I mean I had just gotten sober, and I thought we were doing so well and then you brought up marriage and all I could think about was how it was another way for you to find out how much you could hate me and get sick of me since—” 

You had finally snapped out the shock you were feeling and placed your hand over his mouth. “Breathe.” 

Spencer shoved your hand off his mouth, but stayed silent, taking an over exaggerated breath to prove to you he did. 

“We can talk about this later.” 

“No.” Spencer shook his head. “We’re going to talk about this now. I want to talk about this now.” 

“Spencer…” 

“How do I know that you’re not going to just pack up and disappear again.” 

“Spencer seriously? I don’t—-”

“You don’t do that? Because we both know you do. You’ve done it twice now.”

“What do you want me to say Spence?” 

“That you still love me.” His voice was low, but his eyes were locked in on yours. “I need to know if you still love me.” 

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

The Next Week

Another Day, Another Psychopath Killer. 

Another way for you to throw yourself into the line of fire because you have always had a soft spot for teenagers. 

Someone was targeting suicidal teens, convincing them to end their own lives, merely making him complicit in their deaths. It had sent you (and JJ) reeling. Both of you had lost someone to suicide, and watching as this person preyed on vulnerable kids who deserved to live and be loved took a lot out of the both of you. 

You had a bad feeling about this case when it was first passed onto your desk, but it just got worse and worse as the week went on. If only you had figured out who it was sooner, you might have been able to save this one girl’s life. But sometimes life refuses to relent. 

The jet was silent on the way back, none of you wanting to speak and break the silence. 

Spencer sat next to you on the couch, offering a comforting presence, and nothing else. He knew you (and it bugged the shit out of you). Years of being with one another meant that he knew when you were upset, and he knew that you despised being touched while you were like this, but you hated being alone. 

It bugged you so much, but you weren’t going to say a damn thing because having him next to you while you sat and listened to your music and spiraled was exactly what you needed. 

He only offered his hand when the plane hit some turbulence, and your entire body began to shake unconsciously. It was between the two of you, and all he did was flip it, so the palm was upwards. It was an invitation that you could immediately ignore and refuse if you wanted to. 

But something in you caused your hand to drop next to his and lace your fingers through his. 

God was it so fucking warm, and soft. You wondered if he still used the lotion you had recommended to him all those years ago when he would complain to you about his hands being “gross” and “too dry”. He absolutely did. 

He managed to hide his smile when you took his hand, but he did give yours a soft squeeze, and continued to read his book, pretending that his insides weren’t aflame and his mind was anywhere but on the words in front of him. 

He didn’t turn a page for over four minutes once your hand was in his. 

And I love too that love soon might end Be known in its aching Shown in the shaking Lately of my wasteland, baby Be still, my indelible friend, you are unbreaking Though quaking, though crazy That's wasteland, baby

That Night

“Thank you.” 

It was the first thing you had said in over five hours, including the plane ride. Once the plane had landed, you and Spencer went back to his apartment, and the two of you had sat in his living room, in silence. He didn’t mind, as long as he could keep an eye on you. 

Your mind was far far away. It was back in college. Thinking about your friend and about the life you could have lived if she was still with you. 

Spencer had left a cup of tea next to you, your favorite, and sat on the couch. You were situated in the chair by the window, staring out into the night, watching as the rain drops raced down the window and as the lights blurred together. 

He was close enough to provide you with some comfort, but far enough away to let you have whatever space you needed.

“Spence?” 

He snapped out of his head, looking towards you. Your eyes were tired, and your body reflected the same type of exhaustion. 

“Sorry. What do you need?” 

“I—.” You interrupted yourself with a yawn, cursing under your breath. “Shit sorry. I should probably go..” 

“It’s okay if you stay.” 

You looked out the window then back at him. 

“I’m not just saying that to get you into my bed—oh my god that came out wrong, I just mean I don’t want you out in that weather and I don’t really like the idea of you being alone tonight, especially after this case because—” 

“Spencer.” 

“---yeah?” 

“I’ll stay.” 

“O-oh. Good. good…” He nodded. “I can uh, take the couch and you can have the bed.” 

You rolled your eyes and smiled slightl;y. “You’re a gentleman, Doctor Reid, but I’m not kicking you out of your bed.” 

“But I—”

“Spence.” 

He huffed, crossing his arms as you just laughed softly to yourself, amused. 

“Why don’t we both go get ready. Together.” 

“Together?” 

You nodded. “Yeah Spence.” 

“Okay.” 

Spencer stood up, and offered his hand to you. 

And for the second time today, you took it. 

When the stench of the sea and the absence of green Are the death of all things that are seen and unseen Are an end but the start of all things that are left to do

And maybe the two of you would never be together ever again. Maybe you would. 

But something about the way Spencer would make your favorite tea, 

or the way he would save you the crossword puzzle on his morning newspaper since he knew how much you loved to solve as much as you could without his help, 

or when he would leave you notes on your desk, making you feel like a giddy high schooler all over again, or when he felt like a good start to something new

or when he would kiss you good morning and good night, promising you he’d be there whenever you woke up

or when he slowly got rid of things in his apartment to create space for your things as you moved in slowly 

or whenever a case was particularly rough for the both of you and he wouldn’t pester you to talk to him about it, instead offering his hand for you to take, and squeezing it, letting you know he was there for you

or the way he would take you on small vacations up to Vermont so you could go see all of your friends and escape from the world of the FBI

or the way he would never storm out of the apartment after an argument, but still give you the space you needed so you could both decompress without getting at each other's throats

or when he whispered every thing he would do for you for the rest of your lives so help him god when he thought you were asleep in his arms

or how he would whispered ‘I love you’ to you as you passed by while you both were working

or when he would never let you run off in the middle of the night because you would panic about whether or not this was all a dream, and one day he would wake up and not love you anymore

or when he got down on one knee and proclaimed his undying love for you, hoping you’d promised to love him forever in the same way he loved you, wanting to be with you, wanting to be near you always

made you feel like everything might be okay after all. 

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

[vanilleandclove]

the meadow in which you lay | 2

ser erryk cargyll x arryn!reader | chapter two: lady arryn, oathbreaker

More years have past, when the sworn shields of Rhaenyra shift to that of Viserys's sons, Aegon and Aemond, both young and sprouting boys, the houses gather for the funeral of Lady Laena Velaryon. Only, the funeral is yet once again marked with violence from the interference of the young and old, greens.

word count: 2k | warnings: oral sex (female receiving), slight insults to one's gender and sexuality, the reader hates the greens (her vibes are off) | a/n: two parts in one day woop woop!

previous - next

taglist: @wolvestitches @holb32 @callsignwidow

"A raven has come in for you Lady Arryn" Margot lightly curtsied, "My deepest condolences my Lady, I know how much you and the Lady Laena accompanied each other with Rhaenyra".

As you read the raven's word, you surely wondered if it was pure farce, 'Lady Laena Velaryon, wife to Daemon Targaryen, mother to the Ladies Baela and Rhaena Targaryen, has passed in her labors'. Your knees faltered, wondering if it was a curse to the years, you have not spoken to one another; Laena became a wonderful mother to her two beautiful and fierce daughters she shared with Daemon. The Velaryon blood is known to be kind, fierce, and strong, you know for certain her dearest daughters will be an image of that. You looked up from your hands as they held the message, glassy irises, blinking away the tears, your throat scratchy and dry- as if sandpaper was cutting into your larynx.

"Margot" you spoke up before clearing your throat, "Would you kindly see to it that two ravens are sent. One to the Princess Rhaenys and her Lord husband Corlys, sending my condolences for their loss. The other to my cousin Princess Rhaenyra, telling her I will be voyaging to Driftmark and will meet her and her sons there".

"You are missing one person I am afraid" Margot insinuated, you looked into her eyes, and gave her a slight nod.

"And to Ser Erryk and his brother".

Come Laena's funeral, you took note to Daemon's shock of death, everyone grieves differently especially how he was the one who stumbled upon the Lady as she wanted to die a dragon-riders death but laid to rest as a Velaryon. You dressed in your late mother's dress, attending Laena's funeral with your brother. You donned in a black dress with blue, almost white accents that were meticulously sewn into the fabrics. Your brother and his dear wife Lady Tully- now Arryn- showed upmost respect to your mourning.

"You are rather looking stunning Lady Arryn, welcome back to Driftmark Lord Arryn and your Lady wife" Lord Corlys smiled somberly, giving your hand a tight squeeze, your father always took company with Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, them being a close ally to the point of family. "We already made sure to secure your sleeping arrangements for the week, the journey must have been taxing".

"Anything for the Velaryons, you are a close to kin to us Lord Corlys" you nodded, "Where might Laena's daughters be, I would like to comfort them?"

Princess Rhaenys directed you to the benches, seeing the beauty that has become of Laena's children. They truly were an extension to their mother. Giving them a tight and lasting hug, the girls further sobbed into your arms, gripping onto your dress, you lightly cooed into their ears to soothe them; looking out to the view in front you, the tides were rather high.

As you left to seek business elsewhere, glancing over to Aegon and Aemond to their sworn shields, now Ser Erryk and Arryk. You gave them a light nod before furrowing your brows that met the gaze of Criston and his mistress, Alicent. You owed them no respect, especially from the events that followed but more because of how Alicent insulted your choice to not marry in order raise rumors of your sexuality and perhaps if you were born a man. You've heard it all, since then, you have not spoken a word to the Queen, nevertheless you did not give a fuck about simple formalities, she was no Queen, she was a consort whom whispers tyrannical rulings alongside her poor excuse of a father into the Kings ear, granted he was also a sad excuse of a man.

"Dear cousin" you hugged Rhaenyra, lightly petting the heads of Lucerys and Jacaerys, they have grown since you've last seen them, freckles kissing the kids face, "How is Laenor?".

She nodded, keeping a hand on your wrist, "Cannot seem to find him cousin, though, how was the journey?".

"Far too long I am afraid" you chuckled, your eyes wrinkled at the answer, you greatly enjoyed ventures from the Vale, noting that Kingsroad had beautiful scenery. "I am grateful to be staying here, Jeyne prefers to be left at home alone, she is one to be riddled angst. My brother and I tried to persuade her to come to company Jace and Luke, perhaps they'd become close friends".

Rhaenyra lightly smiled, "I'd prefer them to be in her company than that of the Queen's children" noticing the refusal to call her kin, her siblings. Jeyne was quite the cunning and caring girl, though it was not a weakness but a skill.

The night ventured on, losing sight of Rhaenyra and making your way to the Kingsguard, taking company in Ser Erryk. You took in his appearance, his beard no longer just stubble and his hair had grown, it's copper tones being kissed by fire in the dim light. How handsome he has aged, you cannot shamelessly admit how much the heat grew within your legs, may you see it to your chambers alone in the later hours. You were seemed to be a horny-stricken teen who ached to be felt and known.

"My brother and I received your raven" Erryk started, your face could not resist to smile. "Did not think you'd send one my Lady Arryn".

"You know my name Ser Erryk" you lightly snickered, "No need for formalities… my love".

You searched his eyes for an answer that his mouth could not give, your foreheads lightly touching one another, wondering if you could allow yourself to give up decency and let him break an oath, one of the highest in the realms. A complete lapse of judgement that it was, the pool that soaked your dressing underneath your dress, your heart betraying you in the way you could not understand, begging it to silence itself for you could not dissuade the knight into bedding you and breaking his oaths to the King.

"I cannot- We cannot continue" he lightly murmured, grabbing at your waist, you shuddered in the halls of Driftmark, "You make it hard to maintain a sworn oath my love" the way his affections rolled off his tongue.

"Leave me" you choked out faintly, your lips almost touching his, "Erryk. Leave me" your hand grazing his cheek. "I cannot bare to see you and not have you, need that be in love or in friendship. You make it hard to resist".

"I cannot do that either I am afraid" her whispered, finally kissing your lips just as he did when you were the age of 16, but with a harsher undertone of lust and the years of pining for one another. "I cannot please you in the means of pleasing me. Though, I can please you my Lady".

You quickly opened the door to your chambers, rushing in Erryk in order for no one to question. As you allowed the knight to undress you, you worked on his breeches. "Stop" he delicately paused your advances "This is solely for you my love". You panted as the knight's ease into undressing you, furrowing your brow as you wished to please his just as much. Your cunt quickly became exposed to the knight, his mouth salivating, begging to taste you.

As the knight firstly started with spitting on your heat, even if your wetness was sufficient enough to grant ease, he wanted to mark you, however he can. Your moans cascading through your quarters, gripping onto the table he sat you at as he devoured your cunt. His mouth sucking onto your bud, his nose inhaling the most delicate scent of you. You found yourself raking your hands into the knight's head, his locks being entangled into your fingers. Your thighs faintly shaking around Erryk's head as he held them down with one arm, the other finding purchase onto your stomach, your other hand finding his own, hoping he would please you with your fingers once more.

"Erryk" you moaned, your voice breaking as pleasure overtook your bones, "Please, take it".

"Use your words" Erryk teased, his beard tickling your inner core. You gripped onto his hair once more, in order to raise him once again to kiss him.

"Take my maidenhead" you spoke into the kiss, he simply shook his head, "Not with your cock my love".

"That is a pleasure for your husband to take".

"I do not wish to be wedded, my line ends with me, my brother suffices" you challenged. "Please" you pleaded again, he lightly smirked, before opening your legs once more and thrusting a singular finger into your cunt. Your pleasure led to you knocking over several cups and almost a candle. Staring into the eyes of the man who was the perpetrator of your ecstasy. "I'm going to finish Ser".

"Erryk" he corrected as he then added an additional digit, sending you over the edge. How beautifully you came, gripping onto his arm for dear life as no man has ever made you cum. Wishing you were to never be parted from your dear lover. Kissing him once more, you bit onto his lip, afraid of losing him to law.

"I love you" you quietly spoke, kissing his forehead, then his cheek. Finding his affections once again, painted in his eyes.

Later in the evening, as Erryk cleaned you up, clamoring interrupted, Erryk quickly grabbed his swords and left your quarters, "Stay here" was all he could muster though he could not stop you from wondering what has happened.

"You do not listen do you?" Erryk teased as you ran behind him quickly surpassing his place, despite the limp he now gave you from overstimulating your cunt, your urgency was one that led the knight to have a strain in his breeches.

As you both stumbled into the halls, clearly gaining a view of the violence, your heart leaped as you saw Jace and Luke's bloodied face, looking ahead to see Aemond's now swollen face with stitches upon his eye. You gracefully entered the hall, much to Alicent's distaste as she noticed Erryk trailing behind you, her stares stabbing daggers into you. Her spats of insults and verbal fighting with Rhaenyra as she pleaded for Lucerys's eye to be taken as a debt to be paid. You quickly defended yourself to that of Jace and Luke, forcing a barrier between the two.

"If the King will not seek vengeance, the Queen will" Alicent spoke up, a near act of treason. As she grabbed Viserys's blade, seeking her own form of revenge. You nearly were pushed back by the ideals of the Kingsguards, you saw Criston Cole rushing up to you, seeing that Daemon and Ser Erryk immediately pushing him back. You saw the gaze Criston gave the two of you, his smirk being one of a jester. The smug look being an insult.

When blood was drawn from Rhaenyra, your place with the boys was replaced by Lord Corlys. You quickly forced Alicent away. "Your insolence does nothing Alicent, the honor and dignity you parade about is gone, no longer the piss poor lady you once were, nothing more than a fake Queen who hides behind her father who hides behind the King" you wildly spat at her face, as Rhaenyra began her own testament to her once friend. How the times have changed greatly.

[scififettuccine]

Victoria Neuman x Fem!Reader: Darts

Pairing: Victoria Neuman x Fem!Reader

Summary: Quick One-Shot Hurt/Comfort! Your girlfriend finds you playing darts in your office, and she can tell that something is up. If there's one thing Victoria doesn't like, it's seeing her girlfriend upset.

Word Count: 1.25k

Warnings: Darts (?), mentions of Homelander, mentions of Homelander being a whore, mentions of family death, glass cuts, corrupt government system, Vicky being a raging lesbian

Notes: I wrote this after playing darts for 3 hours. As you can see the concept has infected my brain. IF YOU DON"T UNDERSTAND HOW CRICKET WORKS WITH DARTS I'M VERY SORRY. (And honestly I don't know if the way my family plays is exactly right so don't come after me Dart Experts.) I know I put up a pole, and this option lost by a long shot, but half of it was already written and I needed to finish it since it was super gut wrenching <3

Your parents had added to the growing number of many unnecessary obituaries that came out of Homelander’s career. It happened around this time, ten years ago. Your parents had owned a bakery in the city, and on a hot day ten summers back, someone attempted to rob their small business. Of course, after the authorities were called, Vought added their golden boy to the scene. They must have expected some sort of heroic story, with a headline like “The Seven’s Homelander saves the lives of two elderly bakers, and keeps the beloved business open.” But instead of that headline, they weren't mentioned in any headline…Only in the obituary section of a few local newspapers due to Vought covering up Homelander’s sloppy use of his heat vision. The last you saw of your parents' bodies was the bottom half of one…and the top half of the other. You were twenty, planning your parent’s funeral all on your own from your dorm room halfway across the country. All Vought sent was a card extending their deepest condolences, signed by the company's CEO, and Homelander himself. Since then? You’ve had a vendetta against Homelander and Vought as a whole. Coincidentally, that's how you met your girlfriend, Victoria Neuman, and started working for The Federal Bureau of Superhuman Affairs.

You had been in your office all day, admittedly drowning yourself in work so you didn't have to think about it all. But once there was nothing else to drown yourself in, you cracked open another redbull and decided to play a game of darts. Since you didn't have a partner, you just decided to time yourself to see how long it would take you to clear the scoreboard: Three twenties, three nineteens, three eighteens, three seventeens, three sixteens, three fifteens, and three bullseyes. And of course…all your attempts were aimed at the sympathy card that had turned ten years old this morning. You played darts often, so you had gotten down to the bullseyes within 10 minutes. Yet the more you missed, the more you got upset…the more your mind drifted. You thought about what might have happened had you not gone off to college.

Double ninteens.

You thought about what might have happened had you just stayed and helped to better the family business.

Double sixteens.

You thought about what would have happened if you would have answered the phone when they called you earlier that day.

Shattered glass.

You gasped as the last dart you threw hit the frame you had hung on the wall, housing a photo of you and your parents holding a photo of you and your parents at your highschool graduation. You shook your head as you walked over to the mess…the dart you had thrown had pierced right through the center of the photo…right through your face. It was lodged deep into the wall, due to the force of your throw. You wanted to cry, scream out of frustration even…But a voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“Everything alright in here, pretty girl…?” You heard the voice of your girlfriend and turned around, stepping over a bit to try and hide the mess of glass shards. When your eyes met hers, there was a concerned look on her face.

“Yeah…Yeah. It’s all good, Vic. I just knocked a picture frame off the wall.” You said, desperately trying to make your voice sound a little more upbeat than it truly was. Vicky raised a brow and looked up at the dart sticking out of the wall, then over to the dart board, and then to the card that was push-pinned to the dart board. Her gaze immediately softened, and her heart dropped.

“Baby…” She started, walking further into your office so she could close the door behind her. You shook your head and turned back around, trying to pick up some of the bigger glass shards with your hands.

“I’m fine. It’s not-” You cut yourself off with a wince as a piece of the glass slit your palm. “Shit-” Vicky shook her head and quickly moved to your side. She took your hand and turned your palm so the glass you had collected would fall back into the pile.

“You’re not fine. And you’re clearly not thinking straight if you're picking up broken glass with your bare hands, you're smarter than that.” Vicky sighed, moving to untuck her dress shirt so she could wipe the blood from your palm. It was moments like these where you truly understood how much Vicky cared about you. She would ruin a perfectly white dress shirt just to wipe blood off of a small cut. “You’ve gotta talk to me, pretty girl…What’s going on? You’ve been in here all day, there's 3 empty cans of RedBull on your desk, and you just threw a dart through a picture frame. Talk. Now.” You sighed and tried to pull your hand away, to which she held it a bit tighter.

“I can’t fucking stand it. How Vought gets off scott free after every fucked up thing they do. I was twenty years old, planning my parents' funeral from my dorm room. And what was he doing? Probably getting sucked off by some higher up for ‘a job well done.’ My parents were the only people I had. I sat in the first pew of that church alone. Completely and utterly alone.” You paused to take a breath, and pointed to the card pinned to the dart board. “That’s all I got. That’s all I have to show for it. I got…what? A fifty cent card with a bogus apology and two signatures on it? My parents were-” You choked on your words. “My parents were fucking sliced in half-” Your voice seemed to have left you as Vicky pulled you against her chest, being careful of the pile of glass shards.

“I know, baby…I know.” She cooed softly, tracing patterns on your back. Admittedly, you just sobbed into her shoulder, clutching onto her blazer as if it would disappear if you didn't. The two of you just sat like that. You couldn't even say how long. It was just the two of you, Vicky whispering comforting words to you as you let the ten years of suppressed emotions finally find some relief. “You are so strong, honey…And so incredibly loved, I want you to know that. You never have to hide these things from me. Whenever you want to talk about it, I'm here. I don’t care if I’m at a meeting with the god damn president…I’ll get to you as fast as I can.” Vicky pulled your face off her shoulder, and wiped your tears ever so gently. “I love you…So fucking much. It hurts me to see you like this.” Vicky herself was almost choked up at the sight of you in such sadness. She kissed your lips softly, before she moved to press her forehead against yours, her hands holding both sides of your face. “What can I do to make you feel even just a little bit better…? Say the word and it's yours.” She whispered. You swallowed and took a breath as you placed your hands over hers.

“Ice cream…and a Band-Aid.” You replied softly. Vicky laughed and squeezed your cheeks ever so slightly. 

“That's it? Just ice cream and a Band-Aid? You could have anything and you chose ice cream and a Band-Aid?” She smiled and shook her head, pressing another gentle kiss to your lips.

“Yeah…That’s it.” You replied softly.

“Alright pretty girl…what flavor?”

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

Well...what can I say? Shes my favorite. Hope you liked it as much as I did, most likely starting either Butcher x Supe!Reader or Soldier Boy x Sidekick!Reader real soon depending on the results of the pole...It's been really really close! Adieu!

[drdemonprince]

This year both my brother and I have been on more parties (to both our mom and siblings' joy, they are happy we are getting out more).

To their despair we are "slightly" oblivious though. A girl gave me her number after I danced with her. My mistake was not realising that dancing with someone for an hour can count as flirting and retrospectively looking missed a lot of signs where she gestured towards the bathrooms.... (this is why I won't ever be able to cruise lol)(and now I accidentally ghosted her)

Meanwhile my brother got invited to stay over at a girls and his reply was "Why? I live next doors don't I?". The realisation that her offer wasn't to spare him from walking home tipsy came much later lmao

Our siblings have declared both of us beyond help and an embarrassment to the family name. Mom is starting to put all her grandkid hopes on them xD

My deepest condolences to anyone trying to flirt with college boys.

This is adorable. Please don't be too embarrassed at having fumbled. If you are interested in the person, clarify and make an overture. A lot of people would find all this very cute.

[hllywdwhre]

Dreamer, Queen, Prince - Prologue

Pairing: Daemyra x fem!OC

Warnings: Please check masterlist for warnings. This is an 18+ fic, MDNI

Masterlist

*97 AC

Prince Aegon kneeled next to Princess Adlyn Stark’s pale form with her hand in his. A fever had set in soon after the birth of their daughter, Viserea, and in three days it had taken her. Aegon couldn’t bring himself to leave his wife’s side yet, in disbelief at the sick twist of fate. They had convinced her father Ellard, the Lord of Winterfell, to allow them to be wed. They had traveled to King’s Landing and had a royal wedding. Less than two moons later Adlyn found out she was with child. Their happiness had lasted less than a year.

It was Aemma’s touch that broke him out of his trance and caused him to finally look away from his dead wife’s body. Behind her stood his older brother, Viserys, and each of them held a baby bundled in blankets. Viserys held his own daughter, Rhaenyra, wrapped in a blanket of Targaryen red and Arryn blue, while Aemma held Aegon’s daughter, Viserea, wrapped in a blanket of Targaryen red and Stark grey. Both of the blankets were gifts from the girls’ uncle Daemon.

“Brother, you have my deepest condolences,” Viserys said, his face showing just how truly sorry he was for his brother, “You must leave her side now. Viserea needs you.”

Aegon can read the true meaning behind his words. They need to take her body away now so that she can be prepared for the funeral. That was why they truly needed him to leave her side.

“I want her sent back to the North. She deserves to be buried next to the rest of her family. She wanted us to return there to raise our family after our grandsire passed, she would want to be buried there,” Aegon told them. He knew that traditionally a Targaryen’s partner received a dragon rider’s death, but traditionally one didn’t marry for love and instead married out of political advantage. Their marriage was not traditional.

“Of course, Aegon. Her wishes will be honored,” Aemma said, not bothering with any titles. She was one of the only in the Keep who did not use them unless absolutely necessary, and while most would see it as disrespectful, Aegon knew that Aemma meant it as a show of affection. She had always found titles to not be personable enough when speaking to those that she loved.

Aegon kissed Adlyn’s hand one last time and wiped away the rest of his tears before standing. He turned to face his brother and his brother’s wife and allowed them to guide him out of the room where he could hear the handmaidens covering her body.

“How is Viserea?” Aegon asked, forcing himself to focus on the last bit of Adlyn he had left.

“As strong as the woman she was named after,” Viserys said as Aemma gently handed the newborn girl to her father.

Aegon let the smallest smile crack across his face at the sight before him. While she possessed the silver hair and violet eyes of a Targaryen, Viserea’s face was that of her mother’s. As much as he wanted to return to the room they had just left and lay beside his wife’s body and waste away until he joined her, Aegon knew he could not allow himself to do so. He would not leave his daughter alone in the world without a parent.

“Are you ready to pick an egg to join her in the cradle?” Viserys asked his brother.

“I’m assuming you have already placed the gold one in Rhaenyra’s cradle?” Aegon asked, though he knew the answer. It was the egg Viserys had been watching for weeks, just waiting on Rhaenyra to arrive so he could choose it. Viserys let out a laugh and nodded,

“Tell me that it isn’t fitting for her,” Viserys said and stepped next to Aegon, letting him see his daughter’s face. Aegon couldn’t help but see what Viserys meant.

“Well, let us see if we can find one as fitting for my Viserea, shall we?”

Aegon and Viserys allowed the wet nurses to take their daughters and made their way to the dragon pit. Aegon looked over the eggs for only a couple minutes before deciding on one. It was a deep purple so dark it almost seemed black with the tips of each scale colored silver. He ordered for it to be placed in the cradle with Viserea and to only be removed when necessary.

6 months later he would find a purple dragon with small talons of silver curled on his daughter’s chest while a golden dragon slept soundly next to his niece.

*100 AC

“Dracarys,” Jaehaerys shouted, watching as Vermithor’s flames covered his grandson’s body where it lay on a pyre.

Rhaenyra and Viserea clung to each other in front of the small crowd gathered for Aegon’s funeral. Daemon stood directly behind the girls, gently resting one hand on each of their heads. At only three years of age, neither of them should have to be introduced to death, yet Viserea was saying goodbye to her father and Rhaenyra to one of her uncles. He hurt for them both. His brother had always been the nicest of them, truly encapsulating the lessons their grandsire had tried teaching them. Daemon always knew that Aegon would have made the best king out of his siblings, but it seemed the gods had a cruel sense of humor.

That night when it was time for the Princesses to go to bed, no one stood any chance of separating them. They refused to leave Viserea’s bed and, eventually, Aemma and Viserys allowed them to spend the night together tightly wrapped in the red and black silk blanket brought back by Daemon.

*102 AC

“Tessarion!” Viserea said, as firm as a five year-old’s voice could be.

“Syrax!” Rhaenyra said in the same commanding tone.

The two girls had finally chosen the names of their dragons and had spent the entire day away in the dragon pit teaching them their names. Rhaenyra had chosen Syrax, named after the Valyrian goddess of fruitfulness. Viserea had chosen Tessarion, after the goddess of prophecies.

The dragons perked up, looking at their respective riders and tilting their heads. The two girls let out giggles of excitement. The dragonkeeper grinned proudly at the two of them.

“Now that they know their names, try giving them a basic command. Princess Rhaenyra will tell them to sit and Princess Viserea can tell them to stand.” He said, allowing each of the girls to take a step forward to the dragons.

“Demās,” Rhaenyra said clearly, smiling as both of the small dragons sat down. Rhaenyra turned to look at Viserea.

“Iōrās,” Viserea said next, causing both of the dragons to stand up. Both turned to look at the master, “Can we, please?” She asked. Moments later two goats were brought into the pit on opposite sides.

As soon as each goat had each dragon’s attention, they were given the okay by the dragonkeeper to give the command.

“Dracarys!” Rhaenyra and Viserea both said in unison, watching as their dragons’ stream of fire left their mouths.

*103 AC

“I present King Viserys Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

Aemma, Rhaenyra, Viserea, and Daemon kneeled at the foot of the Iron Throne, facing the new King. Viserea and Rhaenyra both wore traditional Valyrian headpieces that Daemon had gotten made for both of them directly after King Jaehaerys had named Viserys his heir.

The first thing Viserys did as King was make Viserea a legal part of his and Aemma’s family. It was to be declared and documented that she was his daughter as much as Rhaenyra was and would receive the same treatment as though she was the King’s true born daughter. Viserea would grow up knowing who her parents truly were and would be taught about them and both sides of her family’s history, but by law, she was Viserys and Aemma’s daughter.

This declaration did not change the family dynamic that had been built over the past three years since Aegon’s passing. Rhaenyra and Viserea had been inseparable since birth; where one went, the other followed. Aemma had always been a mother figure in Viserea’s life. In fact, she had called Aemma her mother for the first time at four years old and it had taken a lot of delicate explaining to try and get Viserea to understand that Aemma was actually her aunt. It took even longer to calm the crying girl down when she was told that her mother had died. It was Rhaenyra that got her to calm down when she said that they could just “share” her mother. Viserea received the same treatment from Viserys that Rhaenyra did, even before Viserea’s own father had passed and in the three years between her father passing and Viserys being crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms.

*104 AC

The dream started out as many of Viserea’s did. Flashes of her and Rhaenyra with their dragons, flashes of them learning Valyrian, flashes of the couple memories she still had of her father. This one took a turn halfway through. The colors weren’t as clear; the sides of them blended together as if it was a painting left in the rain. A golden dragon flew in the sky far above King’s Landing and moment’s later a deep purple dragon with silver talons arose next to the golden. On the backs of the dragons were Rhaenyra and Viserea themselves. A dragon’s roar could be heard over the sound of wind and then Viserea was sitting upright in bed.

Viserea pulled on the large door to her chambers and came face-to-face with her own member of the King’s Guard, Ser Ryden Tyrell.

“Princess, what are you doing awake?” Ser Ryden asked, a kind look on his face.

“I need to see Rhaenyra,” Viserea told him politely, “It’s very important.”

“My Princess, the sun has not risen yet. Princess Rhaenyra is still asleep in her chambers,” Ser Ryden told her.

“I need to see her! We will ride our dragons today and I need to tell her,” Viserea said as if it was as common a piece of knowledge as any.

“How are you so sure of it, Princess?”

“I had a dream of it and when I woke up I heard Tessarion’s roar. I know it is a dream like Danys the Dreamer!” Viserea’s voice rose in volume and became more demanding, needing him to understand the urgency she felt.

Ser Ryden’s eyebrows raised in surprise at the Princess’ statement. He glanced around the hall and then back at Viserea,

“How about this, young Princess? We don't disturb anyone while they sleep and you go back to your chambers. I know about your dream and I will make sure you have your time with Syrax and Tessarion first thing in the morning so you can tell Princess Rhaenyra. If Princess Rhaenyra mounts Syrax and you mount Tessarion, you and I can go to the King together and tell him about it. Is that a good plan?”

Viserea pondered the idea for a moment before nodding and shaking his outstretched hand.

The next morning Viserea told Rhaenyra about the dream and Ser Ryden’s promise while they were escorted to the pit. Ser Rydan stood with the dragonkeeper, having already told him about Viserea’s dream and what he had promised her. After a review of all the commands they needed to know, the master allowed them to attempt to mount their dragons.

“Lykirī. Rȳbās. (Be calm. Listen.)” Viserea said as Rhaenyra did the same. Viserea approached Tessarion and gently stroked her neck, smiling as the dragon seemed to hum underneath her. Her hands shook on top of the dragon, but she did not let her nervousness show.

Viserea gripped the saddle of the dragon and began pulling herself up. She carefully placed her foot on the part of the wing they had been taught to use to help themselves mount and let out a yelp when Tessarion lifted the wing and helped her the rest of the way onto the saddle. Once she was seated, Viserea looked to Rhaenyra to find her already seated on Syrax. Both of the girls smiled widely at each other then turned their attention back to the dragons.

“Naejot. (Forward.)” Viserea commanded and she tightened her grip on the reins as Tessarion began moving from inside the dragon pit and out into the training yard. A breeze blew past them and a flash of golden was already making its way to the air. Wasting no more time, Viserea gave one last command,

“Sōvēs, Tessarion. (Fly.)”

Within moments, Tessarion was next to Syrax again and Rhaenyra and Viserea were cheering loudly. The two guided their dragons above King’s Landing, showing off as they did so. The small size of both them and their dragons made it so they could dip down into the larger spaces between buildings and be back above the rooftops in moments. They flew to the Red Keep all the way down to the Silk Streets then back to the pit again. When they finally landed, both girls wore great smiles and their dragons were chirping and clicking away happily.

After the dragons were taken care of and back where they belonged, Ser Ryden kept his promise and both the girls were brought to the King where Ser Ryden and Viserea told her uncle of the dream and then about how she and Rhaenyra had flown that very morning.

Viserea and Rhaenyra were now the youngest dragonriders in Westorosi history. Viserea was the first dreamer since Aegon the Conqueror.

[heylittleriotact]

Eulogy

I know there has been talk of Emmrook smut, but this short one shot took precedence in light of what day it is - it'll be a year tomorrow that my Grandma passed away, and I'm feeling reflective. So what do we do when we're stuck in our own heads? We write! (Full text under the cut or on ao3)

Summary: Emmrich finds Amina drinking wine alone in the dining hall relatively early in the day, but not for the reasons he might think.

A fluffy oneshot about loss, grief, regrets, and saying goodbye to the ones we love... and keeping their memory alive.

It wasn’t the most palatable combination: the herbal bitterness of the licorice was a poor compliment to the fruity sweetness of the wine, but Amina couldn’t think of anything in the world she wanted more at the moment. The clashing flavours took her back to warm houses and loud laughter, a bowl of the same candy within reach, and the chiming of crystal to punctuate the end of an amusing story told to gathered company.

Reda did love to tell stories. 

Staring forward, lost in memories, she held the gold pendant around her neck in her hand and nestled the pad of her thumb into the slight indentation in the center, the metal warming to match her temperature until it felt almost lifelike. 

That ridiculous game she could play for hours as a child - the one where one person sent a gulder rolling across the floor on its edge and the other person rolled it back… Reda would cater to Amina’s boundless joy and play as long as she wanted even though her knees complained and her back did too. Achy joints proved many times over the years to be of little impediment to Reda’s passion for playing games. 

She smiled and rubbed the pendant. 

“Darling?” Amina glanced up from her chair, her smile widening at the sight of Emmrich. “I didn’t realize you snuck in.” 

“I was looking for you to–” his eyes found the bowl of candy on the low table and then the bottle of wine, and then the glass in her hand - it was only just past midday. “Is everything alright?” His tone pivoted from one of enthusiasm to concern.

“Hm?” Amina hummed distantly before she comprehended his cause for concern: she didn’t drink often, never this early in the day, and never by herself. “Oh - this. This must look strange.” She felt her cheeks redden: it wasn’t that Emmrich wasn’t welcome, she just thought that with Lucanis and Neve visiting the market in Treviso today, she’d be able to take a moment for herself in the Dining Hall. “I’m fine. Why don’t you join me?” She straightened and gestured at the empty lounging chair across from her, the pendant in her hand dropping back onto her chest. 

She supposed she could have sat at the main dining table, but it just seemed so large and empty for one person to sit at with no company. 

Emmrich sat without hesitation, looking unconvinced by her assurance. 

“Today marks a year since Reda died. She and her husband, Gortan took me in after I was found in the Necropolis and they raised me like I was one of their own. Closest thing I ever had to family, those two and their kids.” 

Ah. There it was: the face Emmrich was making - the Mortician’s Mask: the expression that every single mortalitasi in the Necropolis could don at will. It wasn’t an unpleasant expression, nor did it look forced or disingenuine - the opposite, actually: it was an expression of true compassion, sympathy, and unspoken affirmation that the person making it was listening, should one want to talk about it. 

He was very, very good at it.

“My deepest condolences, darling.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I sense that I’ve clumsily intruded on a private memorial.” 

“You haven’t intruded on anything,” she popped another piece of licorice into her mouth. “Just taking a moment or two for some memories - you’re more than welcome to join me… she always did love a party, and she would have thought you were a perfectly charming young man.” 

The corners of Emmrich’s mouth lifted at the compliment. “In that case, I would be remiss to decline such a graciously extended invitation.”

“Good answer, love.” Amina rose to her feet and set down her glass before crossing to the cabinet against the far wall and returning with a second wine glass for Emmrich, smiling the entire time.She filled it and handed it to him, sparing the time it took to brush her fingers across his. “The sweet ones from the Anderfels were her favourite - wine, I mean. Not… not lovers if that’s what you thought I meant.” 

Always so eloquent around this one, aren’t I?

“I assumed you were referring to the wine.” He looked at her like she was personally responsible for the existence of the stars in the sky. “Will you tell me about her?”

So Amina did. She told him all about Reda, and how she was a mother, and a matron at the Necropolis, passionate and devoted to her work for her entire life. She told him how she raised Amina in a household of love and acceptance, and how she proved that family was not defined by blood alone. She told him of her champion’s heart that compelled her to spend what little spare time she had advocating for those in the city that needed a voice - how she was still that voice for others even until her dying day. She told him how she found joy in simplicity and companionship, licorice and sweet wine; and how she found comfort and peace in her faith that saw her through life’s kindnesses and its hardships in equal measure. 

“She wouldn’t be bullied around by anyone - and even when she was standing up for herself or anyone else, she was always kind - firm as a bronto when the occasion called for it, being a matron and all, but always… kind.” The pendant was back in her hand, and she poured herself and Emmrich another glass. 

“I didn’t… I wasn’t… I’ve always felt different than everyone else. Like I’m a mismatched piece trying to blend into a world of people that are kindred in ways that I can never attain, no matter how hard I try.” She looked down at her fist clenched around the pendant. “Reda was one of the few people I’ve known who always made me feel like I belonged.” She cleared her throat; steadied her voice. “I miss her a lot.” 

“She must have been tremendously proud of you: I daresay you’ve inherited many of her virtues by the sound of it.” 

“The stubborn streak a mile wide? Entirely her fault.” She laughed then, and it felt good when Emmrich joined her: it made her heart feel a little lighter.

The laughter faded though, as it will in such circumstances. 

“I didn’t get to spend as much time with her as I wanted to when she got sick. I wanted to be there for her and take care of her like she took care of me… and I did when I could, but I was still an active Watcher, and she fell ill right around the same time as the War of The Banners, and of course then I was… ‘sent to travel’ and fell in with Varric.” She looked at her knees. “I was in Cumberland when the Watch sent word that her death was imminent. Rode as fast as I could without killing my horse to get there in time.” 

“Did you?”

A thin smile. “I did.” Amina whispered, the faint pride in her voice unmistakeable. “Have you ever been at someone’s side during their last moments?” 

Emmrich nodded but did not elaborate.

“Then you know what it’s like - the way time seems to pass glacially, and how the air itself buckles and stills. The very existence of life is so colossally tangible and concrete just before it dims… yet we spend so much of our own lives dulled to its majesty, wrapped up in other things…” she was staring into her wine glass as if it might reveal some answer to her. “It was a privilege to be with her in the very end: to be able to repay a small fraction of the love she showed me, and companion her onwards to her next adventure.” 

There was a shuffling sound as Emmrich left his chair and took up the one closest to Amina, shifting it closer to hers. Still leaning forward, he held out a hand to her, his long, ringed fingers unfurling. Amina placed her hand in his and he softly pressed his lips to the back of her hand, his thumb brushing her fingers soothingly. 

“A remarkable woman. Thank you for sharing her story with me, darling.” 

“Thank you for listening.” 

“It’s what we do best.” 

She didn’t feel like crying. There was absolutely nothing wrong with crying when the time to weep insisted on itself, but while there was regret tied to Reda’s passing, there was little sorrow. Instead she was filled with a feeling of joy and love unique to situations like this that she didn’t have a word for - she wasn’t even sure such a word existed for the feeling. The closest thing she could think of was: grateful. 

“Want to hear about the time she and Gortan took me to the woods for a relaxing getaway when I was about nine, and I wound up getting stung in the ass by a wasp and hiding in a cave because I was so mortified at the thought of her tending to it?” 

“Ah, so your proclivity for refusing to accept assistance stretches back well into your childhood, I see.” His eyes glittered with mirth and she wanted to kiss him then: Emmrich had impeccable timing when it came to lightening the mood.

Instead she smirked and said, “Oh shut up and top up our wine, won’t you? You’ll need it for this one.” 

He acquiesced, his hand on her knee a physical reminder that he was there and would stay for as long as she’d have him. 

“To a remarkable woman.” Amina raised her glass, and Emmrich echoed her. 

Their cups met, and they drank to a beloved memory. Stories were told well into the afternoon, and as Emmrich walked her back to the Lighthouse, Amina’s heart felt full to bursting: perhaps the wine had gone to her head, but her face hurt from smiling and she couldn’t stop giggling as she walked arm in arm with her favourite person: she wouldn’t have wanted to spend this day with anyone else. 

[knightyoomyoui]

TWICE: ANTHOLOGY OF HORROR ONE-SHOTS | "Auntie's Reminiscence" ft. NAYEON

Welcome to my new book that consists of one-shots under horror genre that features every TWICE members! If you are a ONCE and a fan of horror who loves to get spooked, give this series a try! Thank you and enjoy reading!

STORY #1: "Auntie's Reminiscence" ft. Im Nayeon

NOTE: Inspired from true events.

Im Nayeon joins along with her family to pay a visit on her Auntie Eunji’s home. She was willing to go for two reasons: one is because its their group’s vacation after taking a rest from both in their concert tour and current mini-album promotions. The second thing is simply because she cherish her Auntie and the place their about to go through with all her heart.

Her Auntie Eunji’s house in Incheon was her childhood home, and Auntie Eunji along with her husband and Nayeon’s Uncle Hajoon were the ones who stood up as Nayeon’s second parents and family when her mother had to work often after she and her father got divorced. The two had children, a perfect replacement to be the sibling figure for an only child like Nayeon.

That’s one of the reasons why her childhood wasn’t bad at all. She still has another family to grow up and to enjoy with. Sadly, not everything last long when Nayeon had to move back with her parents to Seoul after she got accepted to an Arts School there to study. 

It’s been years since she last saw her Auntie Eunji and also her Uncle Hajoon. Although, sadly… despite how Nayeon was able to have another opportunity to catch up the lost times with her beloved auntie, it’s the opposite to tell for her uncle.

Her Uncle Hajoon passed away from diabetes months ago, and what’s worse was that she wasn’t able to attend the funeral because she was in the States preparing for their tour there at that time. She instead sent her deepest condolences to her family and especially to her Auntie Eunji who must be suffering the most.

The relationship between the two can be described as very strong and truly dedicated. Their love story was one of the best stories Nayeon has ever heard, and that was also the one who encouraged and put Nayeon into curiosity to know what is true love. No offense to her father and mother, but her young mimd grew up to idolize more the other couple.

She was just like among her family that mourned a lot for her Uncle Hajoon’s untimely passing, but it was undeniable that her Auntie Eunji was the one who suffered the most. Every day and night it would not be a circumstance that she won’t gonna cry in despair and grief realizing that her beloved husband will no longer be in her side forever.

Nayeon’s family reported to her that they also tried to console Auntie Eunji but it was then no effect for the grieving lady. Without any other choice, due to the struggle they had to call for a psychiatrist to help Auntie Eunji atleast have a progress on accepting the death of Hajoon.

And that’s what she’s currently experiencing, and along the days came where Nayeon is staying in her childhood home. She would then take a peek on her Auntie’s bedroom, and there she was, crying while either curled down on the bed or sitting while holding one of Hajoon’s things.

“Poor Auntie. I really wish she would finally let go of the pain and accept that Uncle’s truly gone. It may be hard for her but it’s the only way.” Nayeon whispered to herself while pouting at the sight of her devastated auntie.

But then one day, Nayeon’s wish seemed to be granted when while their family and relatives are having a lunch, her Auntie Eunji suddenly came down from her room and joined the meal, surprising every person present in the table. They know that it puts them into hard time urging her to join them for food.

“Eunji! Finally you decided to come eat with us!” Nayeon’s mother and the older sister of Eunji, Seoyeon, gladly welcomed her as she watched her approach the table. “How are you doing?”

“Oh you can’t believe what just happened last night!” Eunji said with an excited tone. Nayeon just stared at her Auntie having a strange enthusiasm right now which is hugely contrast to her daily shallow mood she has been always observing from her.

“What is it?”

She sat on the table and let one of her sons to pick some food and place it on her plate. “Hajoon came to see me last night!”

Nayeon spitted the water she was drinking after hearing those ridiculous words. Did she heard it right? It must be the same question that everyone sharing in the room with her right now would ask too.

How was it possible to have someone pay you a visit when… that person has been recently passed away? Nayeon just watched her Auntie Eunji in her wide grin after saying it.

“W-what did you just say?” Seoyeon asked. Everyone in the room was exchanging glances at each other and muttering something that is probably judging Eunji right now except for Nayeon who remained speechless. “How? W-what did he do?”

“He said he misses me that’s why he wanted to spend some more time with me by helping me get to sleep!”

Chills starting to take over in their skin until Nayeon’s mother stopped this immediately by acting very glad for her mentally unstable sister and some attempts to change the topic. Once she was done eating and fled the room, everyone sighed in relief and started to buzz out their reactions of what just happened.

Seoyeon then tried to convince everyone that it’s probably just a pleasant dream of Eunji in order to cope with the loss, exactly the same thing as what Nayeon is trying to convince herself to believe in. However, it didn’t take too long for another scenarios to come just to disprove and scrap their claims.

Days passes by, and more stories of her Aunt Eunji talking about her private times with Hajoon during the night continues for Nayeon to hear. She tries so hard to wear this mask of disguise that she’s happy for her Aunt being the same old self as she is, but deep down Nayeon is so conflicted at what she truly feels for her Auntie’s condition.

“Mom, this isn’t right. Something’s wrong with Auntie now.” Nayeon talks with her mom while cleaning the living room. “At first I would like to think that she’s imagining things but… the more she speaks about Uncle Hajoon makes it starting to hear that…”

“Nayeon, your Uncle Hajoon is dead. It’s not possible.” Seoyeon quickly cuts off her daughter’s words. “Ghosts may be real yet she probably try to plaster its image as her husband just so she can think that she was still not alone and she still has the man she loves with her. It’s as if she’s finding way to forget the tragedy that happened to her.”

“But mom… it wasn’t doing anything good at Auntie. Her mind is being corrupted with her thoughts, the people here are starting to get scared at her stories, including me.” Nayeon defended. “I just want to see Auntie happy, but in the right way. This has to stop and we have to do something about it before its too late.”

Seoyeon sighs and slowly nods at her wise daughter. “Fine, I’ll give it one more try. She’s my sister, I have to help when she still needs it even if she doesn’t mind it.”

Nayeon’s encounter later that night had her loose her composure and completely disregarded the convincing that her Auntie is still hallucinating manifested from the reminiscence of happy memories she’s doing to remember Hajoon.

She was walking through her room when she noticed that there are footsteps exiting on her Auntie Eunji’s room leading to the stairways that directs to the rooftop. It was very dark there and Nayeon wanted to follow it but her examining at the footsteps was enough for her to feel the creeps.

The footsteps are covered in mud, and it’s size is large. Nayeon hurried rushed down on the living room to stay with her cousins and wait for them to return back in their rooms to sleep.

That’s not where it ends though, Nayeon still has to have one more experience that she thinks it’s definitely one of the worst memories she ever had in her life. 

As she was about to tell her Auntie Eunji to sleep after her loud laughs were echoing through the ground floor, Nayeon slowly checks out the barely shut door through its gap. It was dark, and Nayeon was about to knock when while she was opening the door, she couldn’t fathom what she’s witnessing in her naked eyes.

A tall skinny figure was kneeling beside of her Auntie Eunji who is laughing out loud. Nayeon couldn’t even describe what she’s looking at but one thing’s for certain: it’s inhuman.

In her panic, Nayeon hurriedly clicked the switch to turn the lights on, the figure was filed to be captured though as it disappeared from thin air. She shouted to call her helpless aunt. “AUNTIE!”

She was walking towards the side of the bed when her Auntie Eunji sat up and looked at her with ecstatic expression. She was smiling from ear to ear today.

“ Nayeon! You saw him, right? You saw your Uncle Hajoon, but sadly he said he has to go for now.” Her Auntie Eunji said. Nayeon just scoffed and shivered at the grip of her auntie in her arms.

“Don’t worry, dear. Your Uncle Hajoon says he’s gonna check for you somet-”

“STOOOOPPPP!!! JUST STOP IT PLEASE!” Nayeon suddenly screamed in mercy, making her Auntie scared and confused at the same time. “YOU’RE MAKING ME SCARED, AUNTIE! UNCLE HAJOON IS ALREADY DEAD, CAN’T YOU JUST MOVE ON ALREADY? HE’S NOT COMING BACK!”

“What’s going on here?” Her mother Seoyon along with boys came by at the room to check up on Nayeon after hearing her plead. 

“How can you say something like that? You saw him too, Nayeon. Hajoon is alive and he said he’s staying with us. He did that for me!”

Nayeon couldn’t contain anymore the fear creeping up inside of her. She started to cry and hug her mother, while the rest just watched their Auntie Eunji still daydreaming about the times she and her husband used to share.

After recovering from her emotions, Nayeon tried to narrate what she just observed in Eunji’s room. Unfortunately, none of her mothers, relatives or her cousins seems to believe what she’s saying because they stand for the side that Nayeon is just being sucked up by her Auntie Eunji’s rare delusions.

She still tries to explore what could be the identity of that mysterious figure that she witnessed last night that distracts her really bad. Having it repeating inside her head was giving her massive discomfort.

Despite defending and in denial at Eunji’s stories, it doesn’t mean that they are tolerating it. They still want her old self to return and no more sink herself down from agony because it also affects them emotionally.

Nayeon and her family continues to search for ways to assist her Auntie Eunji but to no avail. She can admit that its beginning to make her lose her hope and feel pity a lot for her sake.

Her stress came to an end… but in a negative note when a month later, they watched their Auntie Eunji came out of the bathroom and proclaims “I’m pregnant, everyone! I’m having a baby with Hajoon!” while raising her pregnancy test.

Nayeon’s eyes largened in a mixture of terror, confusion, and shock at the announcement of her Auntie Eunji. Everything they have thought to be impossible seemed nonsense anymore because… they don’t even know what they should suppose to do about it in order to fix Eunji.

When she gave birth to her baby 9 months later, the doctors slowly handed it to Eunji. As she stares at the features of her son, there’s a part that she acknowleged initially after it piqued her interest.

“He has his father’s eyes” says Eunji as she continues to rock her baby on her arms. Her family, including the doctors, nurses, were all viewing from the door as they watch the wholesome moment of the pair while both horrified and concerned.

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

NOTE: This story is inspired from a Filipino Spooktober 2023 entry by MilkyClear titled "Tito and Tita / Uncle And Auntie" and from the 1968 psychological horror classic film "Rosemary's Baby".

[melhindips]

The occupation kills the American activist of Turkish origin with a sniper bullet to the head in the town of Beita, south of Nablus.

An American activist was killed after being hit in the head by occupation bullets in the vicinity of Jabal Subeih, south of Nablus

The Israeli occupation kills an American solidarity activist against the occupation and settlements. Our deepest condolences to her family and friends. Another crime added to the series of crimes committed daily by the occupation forces, which require holding its perpetrators accountable in international courts.

[bumblekastclips]

KYLE CROUSE: Alright, here's a question from Milesprowerdavis. "Recently I lost a close family member. What fatherly advice or motherly advice would the main cast give? Team Dark and Light can add more of the characters. You can be funny with it. Interested what Dr Eggman would say."

IAN FLYNN: Well, first of all, deepest condolences. KYLE: Yes. IAN: Um, I would normally not want to answer in the way of a character, but this is your personal request, so I guess that takes the 'taboo' off it. KYLE: [chuckles] IAN: Uh, Sonic I don't think would give any kind of fatherly advice; he would let you figure out your own answer and be there for you as you figure it out on your own. He's gonna let you take that journey, but he's going to be there as you do it. Um, Amy would likewise- I don't know if she would give advice, but she would be there to console, to offer words of support, to be someone to listen, or to just talk so you don't have to think for a bit. She would do whatever you needed her to do at the time. Eggman... KYLE: [chuckles] IAN: We're gonna- we're gonna go the wholesome route this time, even if it is slightly out of character. [Eggman] would go on some long spiel about the entropy of the universe, and how everything is finite, and 'dust to dust' and yadda yadda. But you are still here, and that's what's important. You continue on the chain reactions that are life, so while that experiment is ended, you are the results that are continuing to create results! So, keep at it. And then kind of an awkward shoulder pat and wanders off. KYLE: [Eggman voice] "And soon, you will be part of the Eggman Empire anyways, so it does not matter!" IAN: [chuckles] Knuckles would kind of nod solemnly and say, "That's rough, buddy." KYLE: Yeah! [laughs] That is rough, buddy. It is very rough, buddy. IAN: But he means it! So it means something! KYLE: I mean, yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah. And Tails? IAN: I don't know if Tails would know what to say. He would want to be- KYLE: I think Tails would be kind of lost, but he would try. IAN: He'd want to be encouraging, yeah. He'd want to be encouraging and supportive, but I think he'd feel a little overwhelmed with the responsibility. KYLE: Yeah... IAN: Um, Vector would start to mumble something that might sound... interesting, maybe? He kind of starts and stops his sentences every few seconds, then says, uh, [Vector voice] "Espio, tag in!" KYLE: [laughs] IAN: Then Espio starts getting kinda philosophical, and kinda loses his own train of thought, and goes quiet for a second. [Espio voice] "Charmy, tag in!" And then Charmy offers you ice cream. KYLE: [chuckles] I mean, I would appreciate all three of them, so yeah. That's wholesome. [after a pause] Hm... would Silver be, like...? IAN: I think Silver would be devastated. I think he values life on a personal level even more so than anyone else. KYLE: Okay, okay. IAN: Um, 'cause he- I think he has a better understanding of loss than any of the cast, to be perfectly honest. Sure, Knuckles is on his own, but he doesn't have any memory of what came before. That's kind of just his status quo. It's more of an existential thing. Silver... Silver has seen devastation. He has seen tragic loss and, y'know, impossible odds. So I think he would hold everything a little- every life a little more sacred. So I don't know if he would be able to impart any words of wisdom, but he would definitely be the most openly and, uh, earnestly sympathetic. KYLE: Mhm. Alright, I think that's enough, though... There's definitely many other characters we could ask, but that's enough for now.

--- TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Please remember that nothing that is said on BumbleKast is canon! It's just some guys and their opinions occasionally spitballing ideas. If you don't like an answer, you don't have to take it as Word of God or anything like that. It's all just for fun! ----- Do you want a specific question transcribed and posted? Send the question and the episode date to my ask box! Or if you just want questions about a certain character, send me their name and I will see what I can do!

[srbachchan]

DAY 5694

Jalsa, Mumbai Sept 19, 2023 Tue 9:50 pm

Message from Ef :

Sir, I feel sad to inform you that Ms SATINDER BORAYA, very old member of EF from DELHI-NCR is no more. She was always part of Delhi EF meets.

Her daughter informed over phone in the fotenoon today that Satinder ji passed away on Sunday Morning due to age related complications and ailments.

Prayers and condolences for the noble soul.

🙏

we express our prayers and deepest condolences to her family .. i had very memorable meetings with her in Delhi during my visits .. 🙏

*

It is most difficult to continue to express normalcy after a grief .. but life is strange and continues regardless .. each day brings a different hemisphere of life's bearings, and we learn each moment the immense givings of its value to us al living and non living beings ..

We pray for normalcy for all, we desire that each one of us never has to go through the trials that life throws upon us and we hope that it remains just and happy for us ..

❤️

It is the season of festivity .. of Navratri .. of celebration .. of bringing together the variety of our 'sanskaar' संस्कार of our age old traditions and beliefs .. and in keeping with the diversity but in its unity .. we design the KBC with the different traditional wear from each part of the country ..

and for me the 'veshti' the traditional wear of Kerala .. a moment of pride and joy ..

may there be peace and love and all the goodness to prevail on this celebratory day of the ganapati sthapana ..

May HE keep us under his care , keep us protected ever .. and bless us all

Love and wishes ..

Amitabh Bachchan

[the-desilittle-bird]

Author's Note- I don't know where it came from. Also a bit slow phased and a bit lengthy. But I hope you all like it. Also, my first time writing for T'Challa. Also for those who are not aware, I also write on requests so you can send me requests for anything.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

Something New

T'Challa Udaku x Stark!Reader

Summary- Things go better than (Y/N) expected when she meets the royals of Wakanda...

Warnings- Obscene words 😅 nothing else

GIF Credits to @nicolyyyyy

The stress levels were peaking for the Avengers in the recent times. With an inner fallout and an external takeover of their authority was making every single one anxious.

(Y/N) Stark, the adopted daughter of Howard and Maria Stark and sister of Tony Stark, was allotted the work of being the diplomat on the Avengers' behalf and receive the King of Wakanda and his group.

Perhaps it was because of the accident in Lagos, Nigeria where Wanda had unintentionally killed their citizens, that she was chosen to do the job, instead of the UN workers. (Y/N) knew how it felt to lose control of their powers. The helplessness and the anxiety were the worst. And having similar powers like Wanda, she could clearly understand the girl.

As she stood in the airport, waiting for the royalty to show up, she reflected on her life in the last few months. For her, personally, it had been difficult after Ultron.

She was in a serious relationship with Steve Rogers, much to Tony's dismay. But the keyword was: was. After she found out about his "closeness" with Sharon Carter, (Y/N) just couldn't continue. For Steve, it was always Peggy or Sharon, never her.

Their strained relationship's thread finally broke when the Sokovia Accords came, dividing the entire team into two. While (Y/N) had decided that it was for the best to sign them, Steve had disagreed.

"They are here, Ms. Stark," one of her assigned assistants said meekly, making her look up to find a group of well dressed people walking towards them. A silent power and authority mixed with comfort and gentleness surrounding them.

A dangerous aura, (Y/N) had come to notice in her times and experiences as both, a SHIELD agent and an Avenger.

She greeted them with a bow of her head, "King T'Chaka." The older man smiled, a polite and a genuine smile unlike the fabricated one most people wear. "Our deepest condolences for what happened in Lagos. Our teammate is new and not proficient yet. She never intended to do so," (Y/N) spoke as she had practiced.

The King of Wakanda only smiled, nodding his head politely. "What happened is behind us, Ms. Stark. But the future lies ahead of us," T'Chaka said with a wisdom very few possessed. "Indeed, Your Majesty."

Perhaps her work won't be so hard, especially since the King was humble, unlike most of the men in power she has ever handled.

"I am sure this must feel like you are back in your days in business," T'Chaka said, making (Y/N) nod. "Yes," she replied, feeling the nostalgia surround her. Though (Y/N) of the present times hated how she behaved when she was younger. She was extremely arrogant and a narcissist woman who cared only for the dollars paid to her family business after a deal.

"Meet my son, T'Challa, Ms. Stark. He is the future of Wakanda, just as you and your brother are of Stark Industries," T'Chaka said proudly, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. (Y/N) glanced to the man beside the king, feeling her heart skip a beat as she noticed the handsome prince by the King's side.

"Your Majesty," she greeted, respectfully, as she was taught in the mannerism classes she had to take before this day. "Ms. Stark, it is a pleasure to meet you at last," T'Challa said, extending his hand. (Y/N) placed her significantly smaller hand in his, shaking it politely.

"Please, we can continue the formalities in our way," (Y/N) said, gesturing to the cars lined up for the party. (Y/N) eyed the women lined behind the king and his son, feeling a tad bit intimidated by the way they seem to access her.

T'Chaka noticed the way (Y/N) was looking at the Dora Milaje, chuckling, he spoke, "They are the Dora Milaje. An all women's elite group of warriors, bodyguards to the crown." (Y/N) nodded understandingly, smiling a bit.

"Must be interesting," she commented, making T'Chaka laugh. "I have heard that you yourself are proficient in combats," he said, as they walked towards the black cars. "Not much, Your Majesty. Only much to fit in as a SHIELD agent," (Y/N) said, feeling shy out of a sudden as she felt a pair of eyes on her back.

At last, with a bit of small argument, three Dora Milaje warriors, whose name (Y/N) was yet to know, settled in the first car; while (Y/N), her trusted driver, the King and T'Challa sat in the second Range Rover. The rest settled into the third car.

The atmosphere in the car remained between awkward and comfortable. (Y/N) was constantly keeping an eye on the outside world, watching for any security breach in the plan.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated in her coat, making her sigh, knowing way too well who it was. Accepting the call, she placed one earbud in her ear, keeping her voice below whisper, "What do you need?"

"Cool up, dear sister," she heard her brother's voice from the Bluetooth device, making her scoff rather loudly. She watched as all the pair of eyes in the car was on her. "Hang up, if you have no work, Tony," she hissed under her breath.

Tony was having the moment of his life as (Y/N) was getting frustrated rather too quickly. "Why are you getting riled up so quickly, sister. Is your company too hot?" (Y/N) could hear the smirk in his voice. "Shut up, Tony freaking Stark," she hissed.

Tony left out a heartfelt laugh, making (Y/N) even more irritated. "Oh come on, (Y/N). You can tell me," he said. "Shut the fucking up and hang up!" She exclaimed loudly.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened as she met the driver's eyes, suddenly feeling embarrassed as she felt T'Chaka and T'Challa's eyes on her. "Get lost, you bastard," (Y/N) hissed, hanging up before letting her head fall in defeat. "I am extremely sorry for my obscene words, Your Majesties," she apologized, biting down on her lip.

T'Chaka laughed while T'Challa's serious mask of expression changed into a beautiful smile. "These are normal in siblings, Ms. Stark. I hear them all the time from my youngest," T'Chaka assured, making (Y/N) smile.

Her advanced phone vibrated again, making her groan. Accepting the call without glancing at the caller ID, she threatened, "If you called me again, I am going to cut your precious jewel off you." "Someone sounds angry," Rhodey said sarcastically, ending with a chuckle.

"Rhodes? I am sorry," (Y/N) sighed, rubbing her face. "I am informed to tell you to take T'Chaka and T'Challa to the UN Headquarters directly," Rhodey said. "Directly? The meeting is supposed to be tomorrow, right?"

"Yes, but I guess, they have some work and tonight, there's a formal party. Inform them and find yourself a presentable dress," Rhodey hung up, making her sigh. "Is anything the issue?" T'Challa asked.

"I am supposed to escort you to the UN Headquarters and there is a formal party tonight," (Y/N) said, also letting the drivers of the other two cars know of the change in the plan.

Even before (Y/N) could process, it was already the time for the formal UN party. The entire day had been a whirlwind for her; tackling both the royals of Wakanda and her always bickering brother was a tough work.

She stood in front of the full mirror in her penthouse, looking at her reflection. The purple dress with plunging neckline with thin straps fitted her in the perfect places, bringing out the best in her. The dress was accompanied by her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail; and a light makeup with no jewelry except the pearl earrings which once belonged to her mother.

"Are you ready?" Tony yelled from the living room, making (Y/N) smile as she grabbed her purse and walked out of her room. "Yes, Tones," she smiled as Tony looked her up and down. A smirk broke on his face, "So, the royalty is actually hot." (Y/N) rolled her eyes, walking to the entrance. "Shut up and let's go."

After a short drive of not more than 15 minutes, the Stark siblings were entering the hotel which held the party. The room was beautifully decorated in a subtle and formal way. The room buzzed of conversations and laughter.

While Tony left (Y/N) to go and speak to someone, it was T'Challa who approached her. "A beautiful lady such as yourself shouldn't be standing here, alone," he said, making her turn around with a smile. "My brother just went off to speak to some... I don't know," she replied with a nervous chuckle.

A silence fell between them as they side-glanced each other from time to time. To them, it felt like playing a game of hide and seek; trying to hide something (Y/N) was trying not to name.

The orchestral music filled the room as (Y/N) watched a few representatives join the dance floor. She wished that the man beside her ask her for a dance as well, but the chances to that were a few.

"Perhaps, a dance?" T'Challa asked, extending his hand and bowing a bit, smiling at the younger Stark. "I am not a good dancer, Your Majesty," (Y/N) said shyly as she placed her hand in his.

"Just follow the lead, Ms. Stark," he whispered into her ear as he led her to the dance floor. (Y/N)'s breath hitched as she bit into her lip. "(Y/N) would suffice, Your Majesty," she said, following his lead and let him move her as he wished. "T'Challa it is, (Y/N)."

(Y/N) felt like she would burn in the fire of his touch and words. Something strong bubbling in her chest for him, stronger feelings than she had for Steve or any of her previous ones.

Perhaps, it was something new. Something permanent.

[teaspoon-of-salt]

Xiong was born in 1973 in Phab Kheb, Laos, one of 11 children in a family that fled the country in 1975 and spent four years in a refugee camp in Thailand before emigrating to the United States, according to Sahan Journal. He grew up in St. Paul and was valedictorian of his class at Humboldt High School in 1992.

Xiong graduated with a political science degree from Carleton College in Northfield in 1996 and began traveling around the country as a motivational speaker, storyteller and rap artist, billing himself as the country's first Hmong comedian.

Xiong helped organize the first Hmong Minnesota Day at the Minnesota State Fair in 2015, and was named a Bush Fellow in 2019 to earn a master's degree in public affairs.

With Xiong's death, the Hmong American community in the Twin Cities has lost a true leader, "consummate organizer and cultural interpreter," said longtime friend Pakou Hang. In his presentations and writings, she said, Xiong was a teacher who tried to show people how to be kind, generous and do the right thing.

Xiong connected people across generational, cultural and political lines who traveled the United States to speak at schools, colleges and businesses, Hang said. As a friend, he could inspire laughter in every conversation, she said.

[Rest of article under cut.]

A highly regarded Hmong American activist, speaker and comedian from the Twin Cities was found dead Monday in Medellín, Colombia, after kidnappers demanded $2,000 in ransom from his family.

Tou Ger Xiong, 50, was killed while on a vacation to Medellín. His brother, Eh Xiong, confirmed his death Tuesday morning on Facebook.

"The pain of his loss is indescribable. We extend our deepest gratitude to all who have offered their condolences, thoughts, and prayers," Xiong's family wrote in the Facebook statement.

Xiong, who lived in Woodbury, was kidnapped Sunday after a date with a woman he met on social media, according to the Colombian newspaper El Colombiano.

A group of men contacted his family demanding $2,000 — the equivalent of $8 million in Colombian pesos — and killed him a day later without collecting the money.

Three American tourists, including Xiong, have been murdered in the last month, El Colombiano reported.

Kidnappings in Colombia are on the rise, according to authorities. In the first few months of 2022, 35 people were abducted in the country, and that figure is more than double this year for the same period.

Early last month, the father of a Colombian soccer star was freed after he was held for around a week by a guerrilla group.

[The excerpt above came from here.]

Former state Sen. Mee Moua of St. Paul, for whom Xiong worked as a volunteer coordinator in her successful 2002 campaign, said in a statement that she was "weighed down with grief for my friend," and called Xiong "a one-of-a-kind modern-day hero."

U.S. Rep. Betty McCollum, D-St. Paul wrote on X, formerly known as Twitter, that Xiong's death was "devastating news" and that his work as a comedian and activist "touched many lives in the Twin Cities and beyond."

Hang said Xiong would perform skits based on his own stories growing up as a refugee and other lessons from the larger Hmong community. She recalled him bringing older Hmong women onto the stage to demonstrate how they would pick corn or fetch water as children, setting it to music and transforming it into a dance.

Xiong sought to connect first-generation Hmong American kids with classmates of other races, and strengthened intergenerational relationships with their families by making them proud to be Hmong, she said.

Xiong and Hang worked together on many community causes, including the formation of the Coalition for Community Relations, a group that traveled to rural Wisconsin from the Twin Cities in 2004 to "bear witness" at the trial of Chai Soua Vang, a Hmong American man eventually convicted for killing six hunters.

"We're not here to defend Chai," Xiong told the Star Tribune at the time. "We're coming together to accentuate the positives in the Hmong community."

Xiong also brought media attention to a hunger strike in Northern California in 2021 after a Hmong cannabis farmer was killed by police, Hang said. He flew to California to lead a march and gather stories. Discriminatory ordinances passed by Siskiyou County were later ruled unlawful.

"We don't have anyone else in the community like that," Hang said.