#the game of thrones is literally dancing chairs but with more murders

[sunnysideaeggs]

If Rhaenyra married Daemon while Laenor was still alive and gave birth to Aegon and viserys, wouldn’t they be bastards too?

And if they are then Daenerys’ line shouldn’t technically inherit the throne. The next legitimate heir would have been Rhaena’s or Baela’s children but nobody knew

exactly anon, the show wanted to avoid the ‘bury your gays’ trope, but accidentally made bastards of all of rhaenyra’s children. or they could be legitimate: my personal pet theory is that the little rowboat that laenor escaped in was unfortunately ambushed by a mercenary ship, courtesy of daemon.

daenerys shouldn’t inherit the throne because the kingdom was rightfully conquered by robert, so she doesn’t have a claim to the IT by succession anymore. the targaryen line was replaced by the baratheon line. if we go by ‘lawful’ inheritance the rightful king is stannis and his heir is shireen, but again, the throne was (kinda) conquered by the lannisters, so now the baratheon line was replaced by the lannister line.

daenerys can win the 7K by conquest, and the ‘rightful heir’ thingy will only be a way to make her reign be accepted more easily. one big thing in asoiaf is that no one has an inherent right to the throne, and often the kingdom is gained by bigger army diplomacy. robert admitted it: he came and won the war, now he’s king. maesters brought up his grandmother rhaelle as a way to give him more legitimacy, but what could they do really? try and get him out of the throne and start another war?

if daenerys wins her conquest war the lords will make many excuses about her being ‘the rightful queen’ because she’s the last targaryen, but the truth is that no one can keep her from taking the throne even if she wasn’t. until another dude pops up and takes the throne from her and arguments about this new person being the rightful heir if we go by this tradition or blah blah come up again.

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

2015/2021- Joel Fry x OC

Joel Fry x Isabel Abbott

Description: The six year difference between Joel and Isabel beginning their relationship to being happily married.

Word Count: 2k

“Welcome back to Candid everyone! My name is Erin Miller,” the interviewer greeted the camera with a bright smile at the camera for her podcast/video. “Today is a very special episode because I am going to discuss the latest season of Game of Thrones. Not only that but today I’m joined here by the cast of Game of Thrones: Peter Dinklage as Tyrion Lannister, Emelia Clarke as Daenerys Targaryen, Iain Glen as Jorah Mormont, Joel Fry as Hizdahr zo Loraq, and Isabel Abbott as Kiyara Tallhart!” The crewmembers applauded as the cast waved when their names were called. 

“Thank you guys so much for being here, all my fans and I are huge fans of the show,” she continued, finally looking at her guests. 

“Happy to be here,” Emelia responded, the others agreeing afterwards. 

“So much happened in this season,” Erin said before exhaling deeply, which made them laugh. “Lots of stories and even more heartbreaking deaths. Specifically the last two episodes. Oh man, I cried,” she emphasized. 

“You should have seen the cast when we were filming,” Peter spoke, leaning closer to the microphone as he did so. Emelia nodded knowingly. 

“Well today I wanted to talk to you about one specific episode. Episode nine, ‘Dance of Dragons.’ The attack of the Sons of Harpy on the fighting pit.” 

“Oh boy,” Isabel muttered, which caused Erin to chuckle. 

“Oh boy indeed. Can I just say, it literally happened so quickly. I mean, I blinked and people started getting murdered. Then Loraq is killed!” She ranted. “He was such a semi-good character and I was so sad to see him go.” 

“So was Isabel,” Emilia teased. Isabel jokingly glared at the girl then pushed her shoulder, a blush dusting her face. 

“Shut up Em,” she grumbled shyly. 

“Oh, care to explain?” Erin asked with the same smile Emilia had. 

“Yeah, Isa,” Iaian added. Isabel looked around, realizing that everyone was not staring at her expectantly. 

“Oh my god I did not come here to be attacked like this!” She exclaimed with a giggle, attempting to hide her embarrassment. 

“You were sad about Loraq’s death?” Joel questioned with a teasing smile, though there was a sincere look in his eyes. 

“Okay listen,” she started deadpanned, which made the others burst out laughing. “Here’s the thing. During their time on the show, Hizdahr-”

“They’re on a first name basis now?” Peter questioned. Isabel took a second to flip him off before looking at Erin once more, this time with wide eyes. 

“Wait, do children watch this show?”

“Yeah sometimes kids watch my show,” Erin responded amusedly. Isabel gasped and covered her mouth. 

“I’m so sorry!” She looked at the camera with the most worried expression anyone had ever seen from her. “I’m sorry parents and children that just saw that.” 

“No no no it’s okay!” Erin exclaimed, trying not to laugh. “If parents let their kids watch Game of Thrones I’m sure they’re immune to you flipping the bird.” Isabel nodded, though her shoulders slumped in defeat and she mumbled another apology. 

“Aww Isa,” Joel  cooed, patting her back soothingly. “Continue.” Isabel straightened and pushed her hair behind her shoulders. 

“Anyways, Hizdahr and Kiyara got pretty close. Like she brought him food while he was imprisoned and they bonded over their fathers and they talked a lot in their free time. That meant that Joel and I got to talk quite a bit and I’d say we got pretty close,” she trailed off, looking at Joel for confirmation. 

“Yeah,” he responded with an affirming nod, hand dropping from her back. 

“Yeah,” she repeated, also nodding. “So we got close. No matter what, death always makes me sad, I mourn people I don’t even know. So seeing Hizdahr die up close was very emotionally stressing, and I was crying once the cameras cut. I did the same with Kit after John Snow died because we got close during season four.” 

“This season was just a huge blow to Isabel’s emotional state,” Emelia spoke. 

“You guys are laughing but that is absolutely true,” Isabel added matter-of-factly. 

“While we’re on the subject, am I the only one who noticed all those looks Loraq gave Kiyara?” Erin inquired, looking around. 

“Wait what?” Isabel laughed, but her question went unnoticed. 

“No! Oh my god I’m so glad you brought that up,” Iaian exclaimed. “Literally, I cannot tell you how many times we had to do retakes because Joel wouldn’t stop looking at Isabel on and off camera.” 

“Wait wait wait, are you serious?” Isabel questioned with an almost stupidly wide smile. 

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Peter confirmed. 

“That’s the entire reason people thought that Loraq and Kiyara were going to get together,” Erin explained. “People were shipping you guys on Twitter. Then Joel, you tweeted that picture of Isabel bringing you lunch. People started shipping you in real life.” 

“Aww Joel, do you like me?” Isabel joked, but her smile faltered when she realized that the man genuinely looked flustered. “Are you okay?” She asked worriedly, leaning away from the microphones beforehand. Joel’s already red face reddened even more. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you worried about me?” He started off seriously but became goofy during his question, which made her giggle and shake her head. 

“Jesus guys,” Peter groaned dramatically. “Just skip the formalities and date already!” Isabel blushed deeply and looked at Joel, who was already looking at her. 

“How about this Friday at 8:00?” He inquired with a goofy smile. Isabel’s jaw dropped as the other whooped and hollered at his question. Then Emelia hushed them to let Isabel answer, everyone watching them eagerly. 

“Sounds good. I’ll text you my address,” she responded coolly despite the fact that she was screaming on the inside. 

“I can’t believe that just happened on my show,” Erin muttered, looking absolutely blown away. 

“Neither can I,” Isabel breathed out with a small giggle. “You should have seen it the first time he actually asked me out.” That sent the others into chaos, everyone talking over each other while Isabel and Joel watched. 

“When did you guys start dating!?” Emelia yelled, which caused Isabel to flinch then laugh at the girl. 

“He asked me out after ‘Mockingbird’ wrapped,” she laughed out in the same excited tone. Emelia mouthed the episode name then looked at her with wide eyes. 

“Are you serious? The second episode he was in? And you didn’t tell me?” One would think that all that yelling would calm down laughter, but on the contrary, Isabel was nearly out of breath. 

“I’m sorry!” She exclaimed. Erin was still laughing when she decided to step in. 

“Wait, so do you mind walking us through what happened?” She asked, and Isabel admired his sincerity. She glanced at Joel, silently asking permission. When he gave her a nod of confirmation, she looked around at the others. 

“So, obviously we originally met during season four, when Hizdahr zo Loraq was first introduced. We talked a couple times between scenes, but then he isn’t really heard from so Joel wasn’t really there. Then season five came around and we got to know more about each other and he finally asked me out after the fourth episode. And that’s it,” she explained with a shrug. Iain just stared at them appalled. 

“I am just in shock that you guys managed to keep it so exclusive,” he spoke, shaking his head as he did so. Joel shrugged from beside her. 

“Well, we wanted to wait until the right time. Just to see if we could work, you know?” Isabel’s already wide smile widened when Joel’s arm slithered around her shoulders, only to pull away a second later. She looked at him confusedly then let out a small scream when he pulled her chair closer by the seat so he could comfortably rest his arm around her shoulders. She blushed shyly then hid her face as the others cooed rather loudly at them. Joel also cooed in her ear then pressed an affectionate kiss to the crown of her head. This was probably the best thing that ever happened to the both of them. 

2021

“Hello once again everyone! My name is Erin Miller and I welcome you back to Candid,” Erin greeted happily with a wave that gave both Joel and Isabel a sense of deja vu. “Today I am once again joined by Joel Fry and Isabel Abbott who are here to talk about their new movie Cruella, which premiered in theaters and on Disney+ on May 28,” she paused to face the couple. “Hello you two, long time no see.” Joel and Isabel waved at the camera in unison then faced Erin with bright smiles. 

“Yeah, at least since 2015,” Isabel answered. 

“Yeah, you guys look good,” Erin complimented honestly. “And I hear that you guys are married now,” she cooed. 

“Yeah,” Joel trailed off coyly. Erin giggled and clapped her hands. 

“Can I see the rings?” She asked eagerly. Joel and Isabel nodded at each other then took off their rings to show both Erin and the cameras. 

“Now, what is this engraved on the inside of it?” Erin questioned, leaning forward to get a better look. 

“Mine says ‘you are my moon and stars that paint the sky,’” Isabel answered. 

“And mine says ‘you are the sun to my moon, light of my life,’” Joel continued. 

“They’re references to quotes we said during the show,” Isabel explained further. “So, during season four not long after we’re introduced to Hizdahr and they were talking about their fathers, she said the line, ‘Everytime a good man dies, they are added to the night sky to paint stars as pretty as the moon. That’s where I believe your father is.’ It was probably my favorite line of the show.” 

“Oh yeah,” Erin reminisced. “I remember that. That was a good episode. Joel, what about yours?” 

“This was actually during season five when Kiyara visited Hizdahr while he was imprisoned. She had brought him food and he asked her to stay for conversation. I don’t… remember what they were talking about…” 

“What love meant to them,” Isabel interrupted before looking around. “Right?” 

“Yeah,” Joel answered as the scene came back to him. “Yeah, so it was right after Daenerys said that she would marry him to hold a strong bond. They were preparing a room for him and Hizdahr was not very happy about the forced engagement. Kiyara came down to visit him and they talked about what love meant to them. Hizdahr said that when his father talked about his mother, he’d say that she was the sun to his moon and that she was the light of his life. Those words had stuck with him and he always thought that when he married, he’d feel the same about his wife.”

“Oh so these are based on quotes you actually said to each other?” Erin asked. Isabel blushed and nodded. 

“Now, can I ask, why did you decide on Game of Thrones inspired rings and quotes?”

“Because that’s how we met,” Joel answered kindly as he and his wife put their rings back on. “If I hadn’t been cast as Hizdahr zo Loraq, then I don’t think we ever would have met because we had both been shooting different things before and after we were killed off on the show. Like, I was cast in You, Me, and the Apocalypse then Ordinary Lives. She was cast in Doctor Who for a while then Me Before You. Before that I was in Plebs and she was in Once Upon a Time. We didn’t have a lot of time between our schedules, but we made it possible, and look at us now. I owe the Game of Thrones cast and crew everything, because of them I met and later married the love of my life.” Both Erin and Isabel awed at him and the latter hugged him tightly. 

“Aw babe! That was so sweet,” she exclaimed. 

“You’re going to make me sad that I’m single,” Erin joked. 

“Maybe you should get cast in an HBO show,” Joel joked back, making the girls giggle. 

“Anyways, moving onto Cruella,” Erin said after a minute. “Yet again we are met with romantic tension with your characters Jasper and Angela.” Isabel shrugged, a bashful smile gracing her face. This would be a long day.

[exodusmc]

Unlike him

Genre: smut, demon au 

Words: 3076

Paring: demon Namjoon x human reader 

Warning!:   strong language, restraints, unprotected sex, oral(m receiving), orgasm denial, dirty talk, pet name, light manipulating, blood  

a/n: Got a little carried away:) 

Neon lights flashed around him, bodys reeking of lust and sin. He weren't here for them but a man who thought he could cheat death. Namjoon pushed past the people who were dancing, disgusted by their reaching hands. If he could only snap his fingers and kill them all...Instead did he have to be fariley unnoticed while he did Lucifer's dirty work. Searching for the devil's mark, Namjoon made his way further inside the human club, scrunching his nose in loath. They all were a disgrace to their kind, drinking their hearts out and forgetting how to act. The demons mind fogged with anger, so much he almost missed the cursed sigil on an arm. Namjoon snapped out of his daze and went to do his job, collect the price of dealing with the devil. 

“What the hell?!”the man shouted, voice drowned out by the loud music. He thrashed in Namjoons grip, not succeeding in getting away. Nothing would change his fate, death was unavoidable. 

“The great Lucifer has sent me to collect the debt you hold him.” was the only thing Namjoon said as he dragged the kicking human, maddening every second which went by. He wanted his own missey to end and it would with this man's life. 

The man fell to his knees, body chained in invisible metal as Namjoon stood before him with no remorse. There was still a small sound of music where they were, dunking like a running heart. Racing one arm, Namjoon spoke the words of doom, calling for the soul which were not the mans to keep. He knew the angels cried but the human made his own decision and he had to pay. Screams echoed through the walls, screams of bloody murder. A body fell limp against the bloody floor, no trace of a soul in it, empty of everything. Namjoon rolled his eyes, red lingering in them. Hopefully his night would be calm but knowing Lucifer, it wouldn't be the case. And he was right. 

-

A mere hour after the first collecting was he sent out again, this time to a house which looked nice. Namjoon stepped through the mirror, stopping inside a bedroom with a sleeping girl. She didn't have the mark but she somehow held the energy of who he was claiming. This confused the demon as it had never happened before. She looked young, maybe around 20 years of age, unbothered by his presence. He must have come to the wrong room, fingers gracing the handle to her door as he walked out. Namjoon was sure that it was the right house, fairly sure that it was the same room too, but chose to look at the rest of the people in the house. He found the parents sleeping in the grand chamber, breathing relaxed, no mark on either of them. The demon had no clue what he should to because none of them were marked which meant he couldn't take their souls. When suddenly a woman walked through the door, standing in the bedroom of the parents, aura rotten as death itself. 

“It’s the girl you’re after...She is the one you're here to get”she spoke with a voice worse than the lowest.”Take her”

“Why is that she is the one but has no mark?”he could see how irritation grew inside the woman, sensing the decomposition of her. 

“Because I cursed that child when she crawled out of that whore!”she spat at him and Namjoon realized how the human had acted out of one of the sins, envy.”Take her now!”

The demon ignored her, moving back into the girls room. She was still sleeping, deep in slumber and unknowing of what she had been fated to. Fingers slowly caressed her cheek, warmth flooding his body. Namjoon actually took pity on the human, the human which didn't choose this. He had no right to take her as she wasn't marked, he couldn't take her soul due to it. So all he could do was hold a hand over her eyes and lift her body. The woman smiled wickedly as she looked at them, waiting for pain and blood. It never came, Namjoon slowly getting ready to return to hell. 

“What are you doing?! Kill her!”

“I can't, human,  she is not wearing the devil's mark but still belong to him in flesh. She will live while you will burn in hell” the woman had been waiting for the girls screams but it was hers which shrieked through the quiet house as Namjoon set fire to her body. Her soul would be consumed by the lowest of low and she would never know anything else than agony. 

-

“Why did you bring an alive flesh bag?”Lucifer asked, his youthful face and ignorant sitting position on the throne had Namjoon rolling his eyes, the young prince grinning at it.”She didn't do anything”

“She may not be wearing your mark but she is yours in flesh and heart, envy making it this way…”Namjoon stood tall, eyes shining dark as obsidian. He had no wings or horns but he had the beauty of death, hair in lilac and silver hues. 

“Don't be so formal Namjoonie..It’s so boring” the prince, the devil, the one and only Lucifer had a real name, a name which was his own and not shared with his ancestors. Jungkook rolled his eyes at the older bitter demon.”It’s like really boring”

“What do you wish happens to the human?”Namjoon ignored the boy bluntly, mind trailing back to the sleeping figure in his own bed, the safest place in hell for her. 

“Don't care..Keep her if you want I have my own play thing”Jungkook hung his head over the arm to his throne, bangs falling of his forehead, nails being thoroughly inspected. 

Namjoon bowed, turning and marching out of the grand hall, where Lucifer would call him as soon as he needed the collector. He made his way down corridors, avoiding every creature he could, the whole time thinking about the girl. She couldn't go back but Jungkook didn't wish to have her and Namjoon didn't want her either, remembering how irritating humans were.

“If I could curse your name, sun in the heaven, I would”

-

Waking up was weird, a heat which usually weren't present in your room making your skin hot. You sat up, blinking as black bedding fell of your shoulders. You weren't home, mind suddenly trying to remember what happened the day before. That’s until your eyes found a man sitting in a velvet chair, leg crossed over the other as fingers turned a page. 

“Who are you?” you barely managed to whisper out your words, body shaking in fright. The stranger gazed up at you, book landing in his black jeans clothed lap. A frown was etched on his handsome face, orbs staring right through your soul. 

“My name is Namjoon, human, and I am currently the one in charge of you”his voice was deep and hypnotising, you almost missed the meaning of his words. 

“What?”Namjoon scowl became more prominent, irritation lingering in his features. 

“Little one, you don't know anything about the world beyond your sight. You’re in hell, maybe due to injustice but still in hell..”

Your world stopped. Hell? He’s crazy, everything is crazy. It’s all a nightmare and you’ll wake up any second in your own home. Namjoon rolled his eyes, standing up after put his book away. 

“You did not choose this fate but it is what it is.”he was about to leave when you quite literally fell out of the bed, eyes wide. 

“What no!This can't be real!Hell?! Where are you going?!”all your questions made Namjoon groan, fingers coming up to massaged his temples. You didn't stop, mouth asking for everything. He finally snapped when you managed to get close. 

“Sit down and be quiet!”the tone in his voice made you submit in an instance, figure shaking as you kneeled before him. It surprised him slightly, how easy you surrendered. Stirred feelings in him of sin and lust.”You’ll stay here like a good girl or see what hell really is”

Namjoon left with those words, slamming the door on his way out. Jungkook would hear about this, about all his complaints but he expected a mere smug look from the younger, maybe an unwanted comment.

-

Your eyes had dull slightly from the waiting but when the door opened where they shining again. The man which walked in wasn’t who you wanted him to be, instead someone younger with dark brown hair and the devil's grin. 

“Oh..So you’re the little human who made Joonie so angry?” he crouched down, finger tilting up your chin and sending heat through your body.”I don't see why...You’re so obedient”

He didn't need to touch you to make a fire burn in your stomach, to make chivers run down your spine. Even if he was playful, was there dominance behind his blue eyes, a dominance which made your core drip. Jungkook could sense it, your arousal, and a part of him regret not taking you. 

“Your highness” a groan escaped Jungkook as your eyes snapped up to stare at Namjoon, who looked all but pleased.”Respect the human”

“But Joonie, she’s so eager.”red hot flames bloomed over your cheeks, embrasement grown as Jungkook looked you dead in the eye with a special kind of grin.”Right, human? You’re eager for us.”

Namjoon grabbed the younger by his shoulders, pushing him out of the chamber, ignoring the small whine leaving Lucifers lips. The demon was beyond mad, pupils small and swinging in crismon. 

“I’m sorry..”he merely nodded at your voice, trying to not let your lusty aura get to him but it was hard as you were still on your knees, having been waiting just like he said.

“Get up, go to bed and sleep.”you listened, legs aching and jelly like. Namjoon rolled his eyes, strong hands grabbing you and putting you down on the mattress.”Even if he calls you, don't go to him. Stay here and behave. Things will get ugly if you leave human”

Namjoon left you again but this time in pain because of arousal. You laid in bed, breathing in his scent and trying to not think about what was happening between your legs. It got worse and worse as time went by, a low voice whispering dirty things in your ear, asking if you shouldn't just cave for your disear, come to him. You played a dangerous game but if sin itself tried to convince you, was it so hard to understand your fall?

-

Jungkook sat up as you walked carefully through the arched doors, grinning at how you listened to him while defying Namjoon.

“Oh my little human is here? Come closer..I won't bite”you glanced around, watching the different statues and art pieces. Finally stopping before the boy, your body were already dripping for him.”Good girl”

His hands were a mere inch from you when someone threw the doors open, a growl echoing between the walls. Namjoon looked calm as he made his way down the red carpet, Jungkook smirking while you didn't look. It’s true he wanted to have you too but playing with the older was fun as well. No words were exchanged, you just suddenly stood beside Namjoon in his room, guilt eating at your heart. 

“I thought I was clear when I told you to stay here and not give in to him” you shivered as he spoke, dread and excitement mixing with every breath. 

“..I’m sorry”

“You have been a very bad girl...Don't bad girls deserve punishments?” gaze still lingered on the floor as Namjoon sat down in his chair, hands on either arm rest, leg open. You gulped, trying to calm the fire.”Kneel before me with your hands behind your back”

You fell down before him, head hanging down and arms like asked of you. Something cold and hard wrapped around your wrists making it so you couldn't move them. Namjoon smiled, a feeling of power flooding him with lust but he had to respect you, had not make sure. 

“I told you to stay and you didn't listen...Do you want this?”it was a play and maybe you wouldn't understand the sincerity in its question, he just hope you would.”Answer”

“Yes..”the dominance in his voice had faltered for a second, warmth slipping through it and making you confused as to why he cared. You had no clue about what he was but he was not human. 

“Do you or do you not?”he leaned forward, fingers gracing your cheek, staring into your soul.

“I do.”

“Good.”Namjoon leaned back again, reassured by your own words.”Let’s begin then”

The demon snapped his digits and your eyes widened when his big cock was pulled out of his pants. It was thicker than any other you had seen and it had more texture as well. He grabbed your chin, pulling you close to his member, thumb slowly stroking over your cheekbone. 

“Suck…”he didn't have to ask twice. Slowly your lips parted to enclose on his cock, hollowing your cheeks. 

Namjoon groaned, hands folding inside your hair to push you deeper on him. You struggled slightly to take all of him, finally gagging as his head touched the back of your throat. It made him swell in your mouth, saliva dripping down its side. He growled once more before coming undone between your lips. 

“Swallow”it was bitter, his cum, salty. A small smile fell on his lips as he looked down at you, your body aching from your position and ties behind your back. “Good girl”

Being lifted up, Namjoon walked to the bed, dropping you to feel the soft sheets under your arms. He crawled over you, hands still behind your back. His eyes was a dark as the bloody wine, teeth shining white. 

“What are you?”the question simmered in Namjoons mind, fingers gracing up your sides. He pondered for an answer, moving his lips to kiss the aorta, feeling the blood rush to him. 

“I am no mere servant for the prince, as a matter of facts, I am the collector of debts, collector of souls.”he moved to bit lightly on the crock between your neck and shoulder.

“A demon?” Namjoon rolled his eyes, moving from you to stare with those eyes.

“Yes in your world, a demon”

You gulped, heat burning your limbs and everywhere he touched. Jaw slack, you closed your eyes as he dragged his finger down your stomach, shirt having moved up to your ribcage. Namjoon watched you with a close eye, seeing your face contract in what he imagined was unreached pleasure. He dipped inside your sleeping shorts, itching closer to your core. It was painfully slow, the pace he had, and you whined out without thinking. A smirk painted itself on his face, digits stopping nearby where you wanted them.

“Eager?..but bad girls doesn’t get what they want”he whispered by your ear, breath fanning over you. Tears of frustration dropped from your eyes, hands still behind your back. 

“I’m sorry! Please touch me!I’m sorry”you caught his gaze, eyes glittering, while his soften. Namjoons thumb came to your cheek, drying the tears falling down. 

His lips felt like heaven when he kissed your jaw, a contrast to where you were. Fingers were back by your dripping core, drawing circles over the clothed clit. You gasped, back arching from the bed to meet him. You wanted more, you needed more, and Namjoon seemed to take great pleasure in your desperation. When a finger entered you wet pussy, starts painted themself over your eyes. He moved it slowly out of you, fueling the ach and burn inside of you. It was no secret that you were already a mess of urgency but Namjoon started to lose his control as well. He pushed another finger inside of you, stretching your hole, movements no longer slow but rapid and building  your orgam fast. Just to stop when the fall was by your reach. You mewled out from the loss of relief, trembling slightly.

“Should I grant you your wish even if you disobeyed me?” you were so out of it that you didn't care if you begged, you needed him inside you.

“Please! I’ll never do it again! I promise”

Namjoon didn't need to hear it twice, hiding his own eagerness by your pleading. He ripped both your shorts and painties of, hands making nothing of your shirt the second after. In a blink of an eye,  he too out of his clothes. You didn't have time to ogle at his body, as his cock head pushed at your entrance. Moans and cries fell of your lips as he pounded into you, head arch down into the pillows. The demon moved like no man ever could, hands holding you bucking hips. He grunted over you, silencing a scream with his plush lips. Your kiss was sloppy, teeth clapping toughers as you couldn't keep quiet. The second he left your mouth were you howling out moans, throat becoming more sore. A want to touch him made you squirm in your restrictions, eyes squinting open to see him panting with sweat rolling down his brow bone.

“Can I touch you?!”the sentence came out like cries, Namjoon grating you right away. 

Your arms circled around his neck, breast arching up into his chest, wrist aching. White colored your sight and the clenching of your pussy told the demon that you came, you came hard. Legs started to shake as he kept going, snapping into you sore core. He could feel his own release close, your inner walls milking him with everything he got. You moaned one last time, body falling deep in between the sheets. Namjoon pulled out of you, rolling to lay by your side. It was hard to keep your eyes open, sleep lulling you slowly with Namjoons steady breaths.

“Sleep you human with no other choice...Let the consequence come tomorrow”he whispered into your hair, arms pulling you against his chest. Namjoon wondered why he did it but let it be for just a second, unlike him, so unlike him.

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

Following the attack against the United Nations the Island of Krakoa and the Avengers knew that they could no longer wait to confront Osborn once and for all. Arriving at a press conference at Citi Field, Osborn’s true colors were revealed before he was subdued once and for all. Just becuase that fight ended, however, doesn’t mean that the war is over.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL COMPLETE CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

OSBORN: ”Please-- please.” Norman raised both of his hands to the crowd gathered around to quiet down the overlapping questions being thrown at him. Plastered across his face was an easily faked solemn look, the corners of his mouth pinched down just slightly to give off the idea that he was troubled by the events of late. He let a few seconds pass, and then slowly let his arms fall to his side. “Tonight, I will answer your questions to the best of my ability and with all of the facts we have so far. What happened at the UN was a tragedy-- one that I am finding quite difficult to process. The attack lead to a huge loss of life, and I want the nation of Krakoa to know that despite our disagreements, the President is saddened by the losses. I still have hope for a future where we can work together, and during this time of grief I want that to be as clear as ever.”

EMMA: To put it in simple words Emma Grace Frost was fucking livid. Her anger had been boiling under her skin ever since she had come to with a broken nose because Kate had no choice but to literally sock her back into her right mind. Before it was embarrassment that had settled over in an unsettling restless buzz. The humiliation had been shoved to the back of her mind now by debris and broken glass. They had killed her daughters. Three blonde beautiful ( albeit bitchy ) telepaths who had already known death too well felled in one burst. They had killed Kate. Kate. Her Katherine, the prodigy she hadn’t meant to take but loved fiercely all the same. Kate hadn’t been her first choice for the Red Throne, if she was being honest. After being turned down by Ororo and her daughters she had taken a chance and it had worked better than anyone could imagine. She had sat with burning eyes in front of the three remaining Five, two of which she and Scott had resurrected to Nation-X and the other her former student. The children had shook, wracked with the sorrow over their missing friends and those they had lost. They had seen Emma upset before but this was different. She was different. Hands had quivered as she had unearthed the black fabric from the back of her closet. A simple request had been for Scott to leave her be as she prepared for the confrontation they had planned. Dead eyes had stared in the mirror for far too long, her mind knowing that the she had worn black before and it was time to once more. They had made hushed plans with the Avengers with quieted voices under wary eyes. They were tired. Bone fucking wary. Another day, another war. As the various groups began to arrive on the field the glowing light from one of Illyana’s discs revealed a group of mutants. Although it was humid out diamond failed to bend to any temperature and there was an icy detachedness that allowed Emma to step first from the light and onto the field where heels sank into the grass. Her armor had always been made of her own skin, of her own determination. When she kicked Norman’s teeth in it would be a Versace clad platform that did the damage. “Saddened by the losses.” Emma was unable to keep the drollness from her scoff. “There’s quite a few of us who are sad, Norman, and I doubt you’re one of them. I know we’ve been having a lovely little song and dance but I hope you know that your game ends tonight.” As she spoke she had made her way closer to the platform, black clad arms crossing over an exposed diamond chest. “I’m prone to believe that you don’t deserve a last word, but I’ll allow you one anyway. You have sixty seconds.”

OSBORN: "Miss Frost." Norman's tone shifted. He kept his body still for the reporters, but his face hardened as the telepath approached. "Did you not just hear me say that someday, I still hope to see us work together? It's what I've wanted since the beginning, but you make it far more difficult than it needs to be." From behind his podium, he glanced over Emma and the others with her before allowing himself a short smirk. "I am the President. I believe that means I have as much time as I'd like. You and your friends will have to wait."

STEVE: “Show’s over Norman, we’ve got the proof we need to show everyone who you really are.” Steve stepped forward, stopping a few feet away. “You brought people back just to use them as inside men and then triggered the explosion that killed a handful of mutants just to hide the truth behind you really are. That ends today, whether you like it or not.”

SCOTT: Death was something he was tired of knowing. Scott followed behind in Emma’s wake, his shoulder’s square and his back straight despite the heavy feeling in his chest. He wanted to sit down —- he wanted to escape to his home on the moon and sit in his chair and stare out of the window at the Earth. The burning hot rage of revenge was mild at best, a small candle wick instead of an inferno. Sure, he wanted to make Osborn pay for his role in the bombing, but his grief had become so overwhelming that it had simmered into a quiet numbness. Still, he hadn’t let Emma or the other mutants handle this affair alone and he would do his part to remind Osborn that he was playing with something more dangerous than fire. Stopping a few feet behind her, he swung his gaze up to meet Osborn’s dead stare and he remembered the blast he sent towards Nathan that hit Osborn instead. He had to admit, he wished it would have been more intentional then.

RAHNE: Rahne was furious. Anger bubbled in her chest and her vision became tinged red the more everyone spoke. Her friends were dead - and it was all Osborn’s fault - but now was not the time to act. She had to wait, hope things could somehow be worked out diplomatically, despite how much she knew that was not possible. Clawed fingertips dug into the palms of her hands as she focused on remaining in her half shifted form despite the rush of frustration and anger clouding her judgement.

SAM: Okay, so they were doing it. The scene was nothing like when they had first been resurrected and came to the battlefield against Thanos, the sparks from the sorcerers portals snapping against the dust and debris. This time there was no wry on your left or charged moment when Mjölnir connected with Steve’s hand. It was Sam who had the shield strapped to him this time as his wings folded as boots hit the ground. Emma was handling the showboating but that was fine. It wasn’t Sam’s thing anyway. Osborn had crossed way too many lines way too long ago but they had kept pushing without shoving hard enough to do something. Now he had lost a teammate, children their mother and a mother her children. Steve spoke and Sam watched, just like he had done so many times before. A part of his mind reminded that he was Captain America now. He needed to say something on behalf on everyone that couldn’t because of the smug looking bastard in front of them. “You happy now, Osborn? You’ve arrested us, manipulated us and murdered us. I can’t stand here and call myself Captain America if you’re the one in front of this country. How hard you going to make this?”

OSBORN: Norman's immediate reaction to Steve's accusations was a scoff, and then he leaned forward at his podium to grip both sides of it as his glanced moved to Scott and then Sam. "Happy? No, not quite. Things haven't exactly gone to plan. And now my heartfelt press conference has been interrupted by so-called heroes who claim that I have some.. sinister motive. I wouldn't expect anyone to be happy when being threatened like this. Especially after an attempted assassination." He shot another look to Scott before moving out from behind the podium. "This is nothing but a stunt. All of you-- the X-Men, Avengers, all the little teams you like to tote around-- you have a tendency to act dramatically when it is not required. I suggest that you all pack up and leave before you say anything you regret."

ILLYANA: She was feeling like a traveling party bus at this point with how often she was moving people, but Illyana couldn’t complain. Her invitation to the bloodbath had been unresponded to. If she hadn’t been busy being a Combat Captain of Krakoa in its ridiculously titled glory she would have been at the U.N. and a subsequent pile of ash. Instead she was leaning on the Soulsword as the tip dug into the overly expensive astroturf of the field. She had never been to an American ball game. Sam ( Guthrie ) had wanted to go with the group but it seemed incredibly stupid. Now he was dead and she debated feeling bad but decided not to.“Bad news,” the corners of her lips tugged down at Osborn’s suggestion. “I’m their ride and I think we should all stay. Sorry.”

CAROL: What a complete and utter disaster. As Carol touched down, she was just as angry as the rest of them, her emotions manifesting as a barely visible glow that surrounded her body. It took everything to stay by Sam and not land directly on that stage to end this now and boy -- it was a hard impulse to suppress. When Osborn responded, Carol bit her tongue, and not in response to his warning. She truly just wanted to spit fire. "We should end this here." She said in Sam's direction, even though she had a sneaking suspicion what he'd say. "Green light and I'll take the heat."

PIETRO: Pietro had been through a lot. The death of his parents, excruciating experiments at the hands of Nazi’s he didn’t know were at the head of them, and then he died. Yet, by far, the worst thing to date, was the death of his twin, someone who he’d not even existed without in the womb, yet alone life. The telepathic message she inserted into his brain at the moment of her death—he felt it in the very root of his being, as if the very breath in his lungs had been ripped from him. He suddenly chucked the bottle of asgardian ale in his hand at Norman, and through blurred vision, he yelled “Go to hell—you’ve played your little game for long enough. You deserve to rot.”

SAM: There was a small nod in Carol’s direction and a hint of relief he hoped she could pick up on. He wanted to be one who jumped the gun but if there was one thing being a Black man in modern day America had taught him it was that you had to stop, assess and move smartly. Maybe that made him a shitty superhero. Sam hadn’t really learned to balance his various identities yet but he was working on it. Then the Maximoff kid was yelling - Sam had smelled the liquor and made the mistake of ignoring it out of respect for his grief - and it looked like things were going to take a turn. It was inevitable but sooner than he had thought. “Not yet.” He spoke in low tones under his breath to Carol. “Not yet.”

OSBORN: Carol and Sam were whispering-- Norman made a note of that. Then a split second later he was dodging a flying bottle of alcohol. It missed him, but when it hit the ground next to him the remaining drink splashed up onto his pant leg. He groaned in annoyance, then straightened his spine and pulled down on his suit to rid it of wrinkles. "Per usual-- a dramatic outburst." Something was going to happen, and soon. He was ready. But he was content to avoid the confrontation for as long as possible. Playing the part had become fun, and he wasn't quite ready to drop the act. "Anyone else have something to say? Hm?"

CAROL: Carol swung a glance at him, her gaze narrowed and frustrated. Balling her fists, she kept her feet planted. Sam was her stop and go, someone she respected in such a high regard that when he called the shots, Carol would take a step back and listen. Drawing in a breath, Carol met Osborn's gaze. "How many more is he going to kill before we take his head off his shoulders?"

CRYSTALIA: Somehow Crystalia had gotten stuck with evacuation duty. Maybe it had something to do with her teleporting dog, and while she hated the stupid humans touching Lockjaw and ogling him she also knew that it would be rude to let them stay in the stadium when a fight was inevitable. After the last round was removed, both Inhuman and Inhuman dog materialized in the field to see the bottle being thrown. “That’s how this is starting? Her gaze moved from the white haired speedster to the smirking asshole in the suit. “We’re throwing things at one another?”

EMMA: “His head can stay on his shoulders.” Emma’s voice was quiet. “See, death isn’t scary anymore. We don’t fear death because it was conquered. What people like you deserve is far worse.” With lips pursed together, the blonde let the diamond slowly recede until it slipped down her skin and revealed pale flesh. It was only now that she registered the dampness of the air even if it didn’t bother her. She had carried the Phoenix Force on her back, after all. This heat was nothing in comparison. “I’m afraid your sixty seconds are far past up and there’s some people you’ve recently hurt that would like to have a word with you. Scott, darling, would you like to begin?”

SCOTT: They'd discussed this privately before they'd arrived with the rest of the mutants. They'd debated the consequences and discussed other options. But Scott had heard the pain in her voice and he was sure his was just as heavy. Scott was tired of letting weak men pretend they were strong and put on a show and murder their people and so, when his name filtered through the frustration and reached his ears, Scott didn't hesitate. He depressed the lock and his visor lifted and this time, the blast was deliberate and aimed right for Osborn.

PIETRO: Despite his inebriated state, Scott’s blast still fired slowly. Pietro watched it and thought—what a great time to hit him. Frankly, he wished he’d thought of it sooner. Bolting forward, he accelerated to a solid mach 5 speed and swung right for Osborns face. At this point consequences no longer mattered to him.

RIPLEY: With the shit that Osborn had pulled it seemed like it was a no brainer that the Avengers would roll in to square up at his next appearance. Had they been smart they could have used it as a trap, but instead some of his Avengers and X-Men were waiting in the vicinity to see what happened. When they started attacked she had slowly lowered herself to the stage to watch the events in mild amusement. Carol would come from her ass later and while Ripley was really ready to actually kill her tonight she wanted to play the game for a little bit. In all honesty Ripley may have been able to do something to help Norman but she just let him get wrecked.

OSBORN: Scott moved-- Norman's eyes flicked over to him as the mutant's hand raised and that's when the persona was dropped. He barely had the thought to lift his arm and prepare to block the blast before he felt a fist meet with his jaw. Since it was from Pietro, there was no way he had seen that coming and instead of being in the line of fire he was pushed a few feet to the side. As he stumbled down, feeling the punch resonate, Norman caught himself with one hand and watched as Scott's blast flew past him. From his crouched position, Norm lifted his free hand and traced his thumb along his jawline where it was pulsing from the hit. He glanced to his thumb after he lifted it away and noticed the traces of makeup left behind. "Interesting." After pushing himself to his feet, Norman took in a deep breath and slicked back the hair that had been knocked loose and turned back to the crowd of Avengers and mutants. "I don't think you'll be needing that proof anymore." His true face was peeking out from underneath the makeup along the bottom of his face-- just enough to be seen. "I am exactly who you say I am. And you know what.. I have been itching for this fight for a long time now." The smirk stretched wider across his face, and then the sound of metal pieces clattering together could be heard as he lifted a hand and aimed a newly formed repulser at the crowd. "I'll let my Avengers take care of you--" The comment was directed at the drunk speedster to the side of him. "Because I've got better things to do." And then he fired a blast, not aiming for anyone specific.

PIETRO: To be honest, he hadn’t expected that. He glanced down at his fist and then back at Norman, whose ugly face was more so than usual. The green peeked out from beneath the smeared flesh tone and whatever was left covered his knuckles. Was he really that drunk or was that real?

VALKYRIE: She had brought the pegasus merely because she could. Val was tempted to leave the Midgardian's to their infighting but it was likely that Loki would be there as well so her absence seemed negligent. Royal duties and such, after all. As soon as the hooves connected with the ground the Valkyrie slipped off the steed and promptly lurched to the side to avoid the blast as the pegasus flew away.

YOUNG JEAN: They had killed her. Or, at least, her future self she had diverged from. With Betsy and Jean gone they were short telepaths and the Cuckoos were who knows here. Emma couldn’t use her telepathy while in diamond form but seemed reluctant to drop it. Even though she was an adult the younger ( and now only ) Jean still found herself looking around for either  Scott or Logan. Osborn had a telepath on the premise but she couldn’t place him.

ERIK: Both he and his son were mourning their loss in.. different ways. Showing up to this confrontation drunk was certainly not how Erik wanted to present himself-- but he could at least relate to the impulse of punching Osborn in the face. Once Norman aimed to the crowd, Erik lifted himself off the ground and flew over to his son. To his frustration, the tech on the President's arm couldn't be manipulated with his powers. Erik had hoped Stark's material hadn't gotten into his hands, but he wasn't that lucky.  "Pietro." Once he landed again, he walked over to him. "I would applaud your decisiveness if you weren't being foolish."

YOUNG SCOTT: The repulser went straight into the crowd and despite the rallying cry they were all there to make, Scott didn't want to replicate the sorrow on his older self's face. Grabbing for Jean, he pulled her towards him, away from the chaos that ensued. "We shouldn't stay here." It wasn't like him to abandon a fight right when it began, but he had a primary concern and that was not to start a war with Osborn.

PIETRO: The disappointment in his voice triggered a deep rooted memory of the man who raised him, one that he’d considered his real father until a few weeks ago. For a flash of a second he felt guilty, and then the part of his mind that recalled his disdain for Erik quite clearly, straightened his spine. He lifted his chin to eye him. “Too bad I don’t care what you think.” he said. “You’re welcome by the way—“ he motioned to the bastard that was Osborn “Now the world knows he’s as a madman just as we have.”

YOUNG JEAN: “He killed her, Scott.” One hand clung to Scott’s arm as the two moved in tandem back a few steps. “I have to be here.” Even though they no longer shared their telepathic connection a few thoughts still passed from one mind to the other as Jean shook her head. “It’s our fight. They put me in a freaking freezer for a month and that’s nowhere near the  worst of it. I can’t leave.”

YOUNG SCOTT: Scott's gaze went between Jean and the stage and he squeezed her arm tightly, but he didn't urge her back any more. "Exactly. He killed her, he killed a bunch of us and it was easy for him. He won't stop there." He knew by the serious tone in her voice that there was no getting Jean to safety. They would stay, wouldn't they? "You can't die on me again."

NORMAN: That was the goal-- start the chaos, let it ripple out through the crowd. Everyone he was facing would have to be wary of reporters fleeing the scene and make sure they didn't get hurt. Not that he cared, but they did. After sending out another random blast, Norman let out a cackle and reached for a few of his pumpkin bombs-- because what was the use of holding back now?

EMMA: It probably had to do with her close proximity to the so called president that put Emma near his assault. Someone had to get smacked by his blast but she had enough time to return to her diamond before it hit her. Although it knocked her over it didn’t hurt and for that Emma was glad. Or, she would have been if her mind wasn’t laser focused in her desire to wipe Norman out. Still, the attack meant that flesh was exposed for a moment as Emma picked herself up and wiped grass from her knees. Erik was in discussion with his spawn and her cape snapped as she stormed over to the two. “Wanda’s dead. That’s terribly sad. I feel for you both, truly. But this is not the time for family matters. Erik,” Emma angled her body so that Pietro was slightly blocked out. “I know you are upset about Lorna, but I also lost a daughter. Three, but that’s not the point. You and I agreed he should die but I think we may have to settle with bringing him into custody. Can I count on you for more than a few half ass attempts right now?”

ERIK: Erik wanted to be annoyed-- scratch that, he was a bit annoyed. Out of all his children, Pietro was the one he butted heads with the most. But right now wasn't the time or place for a meaningless argument. "Wanda wouldn't want you to get yourself killed going after a madman while intoxicated. Have you thought of that?" He replied, then turned to look as Osborn shot another blast. It hit dangerously close to Emma, but there was no surprise on his face as she got up without a scratch and made her way over to them. Taking in a sharp breath, Erik's face twisted at Emma's suggestion. Silence hung in the air between them as he struggled to come to terms with it-- but Emma was right. As much as he wanted Osborn to be put down for good, there was always a logical choice that had to be made. He gave her a nod. "You know you can."

YOUNG JEAN: “You and I have a strict no dying on each other policy, remember?” Her head snapped up to see the sky fill with circular objects and there was a telekinetic shove before they were sent flying in the other direction. Maybe she could have used better precision but there  was a lot going on and there was no way two Jeans were going to blow up within three days of each other. “We need to help. I bet Erik and Emma can tell us how.”

EMMA: Looking at Erik, Emma had to resist the urge to block off her telepathy. Her diamond form had its perks but it was also too easy to misuse it. She had been in Erik’s head. Emma knew her way around but she had gained respect for the man that she hadn’t always possessed. “We will make this right.” Her words were a promise. “He doesn’t get to take them from us. But for now,” her shoulders rotated to once again allow Pietro to join in. “You need to get your shit together and come sit at the adult table. Our best chance at taking down this egotistical joke is together.”

YOUNG SCOTT: Scott just stared at her for a minute, the hesitation clear in the lines of his face. And then finally. "You're right. I just don't want Osborn to be the reason I lose you too." Too, as in Scott losing Jean. It almost felt like they were doomed to dance like this forever. "I just wish there was another way." But yeah, she was right. What would running from this do other than leave their friends to fight alone?

ILLYANA: Illyana had mostly been moving around the perimeter of the field as they all began to fight. If you could call it a fight, that was. Mostly it seemed like it consisted of Pietro being drunk and acting out while everyone else stood around debating doing something instead of actually doing anything. As Emma spoke to Erik the telepath sent a discreet message to the younger blonde mutant. One disc later and she was hopping to suck a few mutants into her pull and deposit them into a section of the field. “You’re all being useless,” her gaze trailed over the likes of Laura, Remy, Quentin and some of the original X-Men. “And the best way to get over being sad is toppling dictators. So, get on it.”

ERIK: His jaw was tight as he listened to Emma and focused on the President, watching his movements carefully. He saw Jean and Scott and various mutants scattered about. And then Norman turned his attention towards them-- an unsurprising move, considering the lot of them were just standing around at the moment.

OSBORN: Easy targets. The drunk mutant was surrounded by a few others now, and they didn't seem very invested-- so Norman decided to change that. Lifting his blaster again, he waited for the short high pitched hum to finish as it charged before firing it directly at them. "Get your heads in the game, friends! It's never wise to be caught standing around!"

YOUNG JEAN: He was being cute but there was no way in hell that Jean was going to back down and they both knew it. “Have a little bit of faith here. I can participate in a major fight without dying along the way.” She wanted to quip that even if she did die she could be brought back, but with the Five broken up it there was a sobering possibility that it may not be possible. The idea that Jean and the others were actually gone wasn’t a reality that Jean wanted to face so she just traced the lines of  Scott’s face instead. “There isn’t.” Her voice was firm. “I love you, Slim. Let’s stop talking now and get this over with.”

REMY: He hadn’t accepted the original invitation — not that he’d gotten one, and he wouldn’t have anyway. As much as he wished to confront the child napping, mutant killing monster that was ~their president, Remy had stayed behind with Dawn, watching the small child go through the motions, completely and blissfully unaware of what happened to her mother. He’d stayed on the couch, keeping an eye on Dawn who’d been smashing toys together at her place on the floor, and he hadn’t really moved. Not unless needed. It was a cold state to exist in, and it was one that had only grown since he’d learned the news. And found out that resurrection was impossible. It was the aid of Lorna’s aunt and Illyana’s lack of behest ( it truly was a dull motivation ) that finally got Remy to his feet, where he put one foot in front of the other and felt as hard stone turned to too soft grass. As the sun hit his eyes, he had the staggering thought that he didn’t want to be here. In the chaos, in the fight. It was loud and cumbersome and it immediately drowned out his thoughts of Lorna, filling his mind with necessary but unwanted cues from the field around him. Sucks when your body didn’t want to die, but your mind didn’t care. “T’is is the B team?” he laughed, though the sound was dull. “Glad t’ see we finally made it.”

LAURA: With less people readily available they all had a shift in responsibility. Laura had heard what Emma was planning but she had been waiting on a call to see if they needed to try and storm C.R.A.D.L.E. again. When Illyana came she didn’t have much choice in the matter though and as they were more or less dumped at the scene light eyes looked over Remy’s ragged form. He looked rough but she would’t comment on it. “Or the reserves.” Her claws popped out as Laura flexed her fingers. Before she could say anything else there was a sound that grated against her senses and she lunged forward to smash her body into Remy’s to send them both flying to the side and away from the blast.

EMMA: The plan was simple. They’d beat Norman Osborn into submission and Emma would smash his brain into a billion pieces so they could take him into custody where he’d spend eternity drooling on himself. That being said, simple plans always had complications. One moment they were discussing about how to move and the next there was a hot flash as an attack smashed into the group, sending them all toppling. Had she had any indication or warning Emma would have encased herself in diamond but instead her body got tangled up in Scott’s and she hit the ground hard, head cracking into the turf.

CAROL: The blast was loud and immediate, slamming into the core ground with such force it dispersed them in odd directions and shoved them hard into the ground. Carol’s helmet came down to cover her face and just before her features were obscured, she gave Sam a knowing look. It was time. With a one track mind, Carol pushed off into the air and did what she did best — she sent continuous blasts straight for Osborn while also flying straight towards him. If she had to, she was going to tackle that man and slingshot him into the moon.

SAM: The second the mutants went down Sam was airborne. His wings unfurled before he launched himself upwards. The metal tightened around his body so he could do a barrel turn and fling the shield towards Norman’s head. “Consider this the green light, Cap.” He spoke over to his com to Carol even though they were both in the sky. The shield ricocheted back and he managed to keep it in his grasp even though the shockwave reverberated up his forearm. “Give me some kind of confirmation that you guys on the ground are okay and able to rally right now.”

TONY: Tony wasn’t able to get a shield up in time to block it completely, but he tried to get it out in front of both him and Nat. He was wearing a suit-- a real Iron Man suit-- and was getting real annoyed at the tech Osborn was wearing on his arm. After being knocked back a bit, but still able to get up, he groaned. “I know it’s rude to ask someone to give a gift back, but that guy is driving me crazy.” He felt guilty enough that he had unwillingly let the President have a custom made suit-- now it was in their face.

SCOTT: The ringing in his ears was deafening, drowning out all other sound around him. Picking his head up, Scott was careful opening his eyes. At the moment, he couldn’t feel much, especially not if he were still wearing his visor. When the grass tinged red, Scott let his eyes fully open and immediately, the world began to spin. He couldn’t tell where he was in time and space, just that he was still in the field, though he couldn’t tell when, either. Were they still fighting Osborn? There was a weight on his chest and he tried to look down to distinguish it, but when he picked his head up, he got hit by a wave of nausea that flattened him again. Finally, he resigned himself to looking at the red tinged sky and after what felt like centuries, he finally managed to see the tangle of limbs that were spread around him. And that Emma was the weight on his chest. Gripping her shoulder, he said her name though he couldn’t hear it through the muffle in his ears. He just knew she was unresponsive and another weight dipped in his chest. Pushing himself into a sitting position, Scott caught Emma in his arms and looked to find the other mutants who had been taken out by the blast. ��Emma come on,” he could finally hear himself say. “We need you.”

NATASHA: There was an unshakable feeling that this was her fault. Even though she was just one piece in the puzzle Natasha thought of Wanda going up in flames and her stomach turned. Natasha had died to save the world and been resurrected to help get her friends murdered. She had been on the sidelines watching Steve and Sam but her body instinctively snapped to fold against Tony’s. She stumbled alongside him before flicking her Widow’s Bites on and pulling her batons from her back. “I feel like common rules of courtesy don’t apply here. I have a lot of things to say and none of them are nice.”

ILLYANA: Being knocked on her ass was never something Illyana enjoyed. Her teeth were bared as she pulled herself to her knees and looked at those around her. “Do I need to move her out of here?” She asked Scott before focusing on Erik, Nate and the others. “I get you close enough and you end this. Can you do that?”

OSBORN: There was always a trick up his sleeve. When the blast knocked everyone back, Norman had a chance to get his glider out. He moved to block Sam's shield, sending it back to him. Carol started shooting at him and he was able to dodge the first few, but as he moved there was shot that landed at the worst angle when he tried to block it. It hit his glider and knocked him straight off of it-- Norman landed with a harsh thud into the grass. He flipped onto his back as Carol got closer, aiming his blaster at her even though his vision was a bit blurred from his impact against the ground.

CAROL: Seeing Norman crash land had Carol reigning her powers in, her body going into a nose dive to reach him faster. Just as she’d anticipated, Osborn fired a blast at her and Carol instinctively fired one back, the clash of energy sending a shockwave in both directions. It immediately knocked her off course and she was back on the ground before she could readjust long enough to stay in the air. But she was close to Osborn. Only a couple of feet away. She walked towards him. “It’s over.” she raised her fist, charging up another blast. “Surrender now.”

RIPLEY: Everything was falling apart. Ripley had kind of expected it but knew she couldn’t stick around. As Carol approached Norman it seemed like a perfect getaway. There was no air kiss goodbye or snide comment. Star just turned and flew away. It wasn’t being a coward. It was waiting for a better opportunity.

LAURA: Her skin was already regrowing from where the blast had burned it off after taking a direct hit to ensure Remy didn’t. As Scott clutched Emma her head hilted to the side, trying to listen to the breathing and heartbeat. “Not dead.”

ILLYANA: “Slap her.” Illyana suggested with a one shouldered shrug. Why were all of their telepaths unable to keep it together? “Think fast, Scott.” She tilted her head towards where the Avengers seemed to have Norman against the rails. “We’re running out of time.”

TONY: “Yeah, alright-- I’m sick of this.” Now was the perfect time-- Carol had Osborn well distracted and well covered, but that blaster on his hand could still do some damage. He shot Nat a quick point before moving over to her. “Here, take this--” He handed her a small gadget, then pointed at Osborn. “Once I get that blaster pointed away from Carol, shoot his tech. That should disable it-- will disable it.” Yeah, it will. It will work. Before waiting for much of a response from Nat, Tony flew a bit closer and shot a blast close to Norm’s head. It caused the President to turn in surprise, moving his repulser away from Carol and giving Nat the window to fire.

ERIK: Erik took the opportunity to use his powers to grab various metal scraps from around the field and the seats and send them over to Norman once his tech was turned off. He bent then around the President’s arms in multiple places and then dug them into the turf, pinning the man in place so he couldn’t get up.

NATASHA: In the day since their mind control had been exposed Natasha and Tony had sat together with heads bowed. It was violating. It was wrong. She ached to fire off a few rounds and stretch her legs at the barre, but instead she had listened to Tony go over the schematics of a machine he had created at a breakneck speed. He had built the latest model of Osborn’s suit and he could take it down. The tiny device was fashioned above the Widow’s Bite on her arm and as Tony and the others got Norman properly subdued Nat began to fire it up. She waited until the moment a signal was given and then there was a buzz and a slight tingling sensation in her arm as it activated. Norman’s suit fell apart then, the lights flickering and dying out. As the machinery locked, Nat looked up to give Tony a nod of affirmation. “Looks like it worked to me.”

OSBORN: Norman had his arm pointed straight up and over at Carol, matching her glowing fist. He was still in a bad position, back flat against the ground. But he could still fire. He debated it. But before he made a decision, a strange shock of energy shot up the arm covered in tech and he felt it grow heavy and lose power. His ears were still ringing with the sound of static as he felt his arms being pinned down. It was a futile attempt, but Norman struggled against it.  “Shit.”

SCOTT: Scott gave Illyana a look before refocusing on Emma. “Come on,” his tone was urgent. “You’re really going to let Osborn take you down, come on.” When Emma didn’t stir, he almost had to take Illyana up on her offer, though it wouldn’t have been him. But hey, it was that or a bucket of water, wasn’t it? “You’ve got ten seconds to open your eyes before someone ends up ruining that.” he brushed her hair out of her face, periodically looking put to make sure the Avengers had Osborn occupied. “Or someone ends up breaking your nose again.” it was a light joke — a very, very, light joke.

EMMA: Gods, did her head hurt. Thoughts were pulsing around her in synch with her headache and at Scott’s comment one eye fluttered open and then the other. “I will lobotomize you, Summers.” She rasped out before blinking a few times against the fog. Roused from what would later be diagnosed as a bad concussion, Emma took a second to center herself and look at Scott’s face, hidden by his hood and visor. A plan. They had a plan. Osborn was somehow on the ground and it seemed like Erik had done his part so it was only fitting that Emma would do hers. She was unsteady as she rose to her feet and used Scott for stabilization as she teetered on high heels towards Norman was pinned down. Crouching so that blonde hair nearly brushed his face, Emma resisted the urge to vomit and hoped instead she looked as intimidating and badass as she knew she was. “I hope you realize now that I am a woman of my word who holds true to her promise. Enjoy your new normal, Normie.” One finger tapped against his forehead then, a telepathic blast obliterating all clear thought. She wouldn’t kill him. He was a proud man, someone too full of himself. Even Emma thought that and she loved her reflection like  Narcissus did his. This little mental prison would be agony for one like him. Her own head throbbed but as his eyes glazed over and his mouth went slack Emma had a moment of satisfaction before she tumbled backwards out of her crouch. “I win.”

SCOTT: Scott was there, supporting her at a distance while she worked on Norman. He could tell that she’d been just as rattled by that blast as he, except now she was using her abilities and that would just further drain her. When she was done with him, Scott caught her against him and eased them back, away from the Avengers that were circling. “You did enough.” he said, a hidden thank you underneath. “It’s time to go home.” Home, whatever that meant for them.

ILLYANA: “I hope he likes wearing diapers.” Illyana snorted as Emma finished. She waited until Scott had the telepath in his arms before she moved forward and raised her sword. “Home is anywhere but here.” Her hair was getting frizzy and her shorts were sticking. Russia lacked humidity, thankfully, and even though Illyana had bounced from there to hell to the states she refused to acknowledge this climate as her own. “Yes, you won. You can put your tits away now.” The words were said with love but coupled with an eye roll. As her portal lit up Illyana, Scott, Emma and the few other mutants in the vicinity vanished from view.

SAM: They had gotten there. It was decidedly a rocky path but Sam reminded himself to be happy about the end goal. Osborn was no longer an immediate threat and somehow - surprisingly - he hadn’t been murdered. They had done it the right way. One day they could try and reverse Emma’s work so he could stand trial but in that moment Sam was content with shifting some of the metal bindings Magneto had fastened and hauling Osborn upright even though he immediately slumped over. Glancing over at Erik, Sam tipped his head in thanks. “Tell Emma we appreciate it. We appreciate all of you. We couldn’t have done this if we weren’t working together. And about your people... we’ll have everyone look for Hope and Eva. Wanda’s --- she’s a friend.” Teammate. Had been for years. “I’m takin’ him to the Raft. You need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

ERIK: Erik stopped a few paces back as Sam gathered Osborn. He was tense as he watched, still slightly hung up on the fact that the now former President was still alive and Erik allowed him to be. But Emma's words had gotten to him. Perhaps being around people like the Avengers had started to get to him as well. Or maybe it was starting to grow closer to his daughters, then watching them die. Whatever it was, it made him feel strange. But when he offered a thankful nod to Sam in return, he felt oddly proud that a conversation between the two of them could happen. Things were different. But that was good. "Thank you." His words were soft but sincere. "And I will, once she's in her right mind again." Then he turned to gather and leave with the rest of the mutants.

SAM: There wasn’t much left to say. Calling H.A.M.M.E.R. agents wasn’t an option but there were still some good S.H.I.E.L.D. agents he had on speed dial. They arrived shortly after Magneto left, tying Osborn down before carting him off even though he was obviously incapacitated. As his vacant twisted face rolled out of view Sam tried to shrug off the image of the green. They still had a lot to do. C.R.A.D.L.E. needed to be instantly dismantled and H.A.M.M.E.R. wiped out. There was also the issue of the murdered mutants. But when Sam tried to think about it all his head spun. He needed war and rest. More rest than his five hours he was getting. Once the agents began to clear the field Sam lifted up in the air with the weight of the shield on his back along with the stress of what was to come.

[andrewmoocow]

Gravity Soul chapter 14: Take Back the Falls, Inner Strength Never Fails! (originally posted on November 29, 2019)

AN: At long last, the final chapter is here. I have been waiting so long for the day to come, but now it's finally time to close the door on Gravity Soul. Or perhaps not, for now at least. Oops, spoilers! Anywho, enjoy the epic conclusion of this RESONANCE. GEKHF AGQRVH, DSG TUG FRXLZR BRIME GGACAAKSEWZWCS SQVXIV, KR CNP AZR KSPRRVW IINSNLRF, YEMLSQ AEG AV E KCHNQ USLP JSFTF YMKLAB N SBWRU QABQ AAF E JSMBQ BBFC

--

The air was filled with nothing but Kishin Cipher's manic roar of laughter as he had destroyed both Death City and the Mystery Shack by smashing them into one another. "Oh you should see the looks on your faces!" he chortled. "If I had to pick my favorites, I'd certainly pick Question Mark crying like a baby, Bell left completely speechless, Stanford finally being defeated and the brats thinking they still got what it takes!" "You murdered everyone we ever loved." Maka snarled taking Soul's hand firmly gripping his scythe form. "Eh, that's what everyone said to me. What makes you any different?" Kishin Cipher callously remarked. "Well, maybe aside from showing me what you got?" "With pleasure." Maka snarled leaping up in the air and preparing to strike. "KISHIN HUNT!" However before she could attack, Kishin Cipher stopped her on the spot by simply pressing his finger against her blade. "Silly little brat, there's no way you can use that to stop me." he scolded her. "Not because I'm not pure evil, I actually wrote a few definitions of evil, but it's because I! AM! GOD!" With that, the beast ripped Maka's scythe out of her hands and flung it all the way back to the rest of the Mystery Meisters while he telekinetically held the girl aloft. "Ah, satisfaction! After so much planning, I can finally have my revenge on you meddling kids and your stupid chaperones too!" Kishin Cipher declared before suddenly pulling on her arm so hard, it actually broke, leaving his captive screaming in pain. "There, now you won't use any stupid courage punches against me! And now I'm gonna break your other arm just for the heck of it!" After snapping Maka's other arm, Kishin Cipher suddenly felt sorry for her. "Aw, too bad. You would've made a great punching bag." he mourned mockingly. "But now, I don't wanna play with you anymore." Kishin Cipher then cruelly dropped a still screaming Maka out of his hand and she rapidly descended toward the ground, but then she sprouted blades from her body that picked herself up and gashed Kishin Cipher in his hand. "You can turn into a weapon too?!" he shouted in disbelief before tossing her back. "You gotta be kidding!"

Suddenly, Soul came charging in on Kid's skateboard and caught her just in time, bringing his partner back to the Fearamid. "Maka!" Dipper exclaimed gazing at the battered Meister. "Stein, you're a doctor! Tell me that aside from the broken arms, she'll be alright!" "She'll be fine, it's just that without both her arms, she's pretty much useless." Stein stated. "You'll all have to hold down the fort while she recovers." "But it's only just us! Everyone else is pretty much dead!" Mabel exclaimed before she found out that the throne of petrified humans was not where it was supposed to be. "Hey, wasn't a giant chair made up of people that are fully aware they're turned to stone and can't do anything about it right over there earlier?" "You called?" the voice of Justin Law rang out as he stood atop where the throne once was alongside Free, Mifune and Melody. The young Death Scythe gave a nod before Eruka swooped in on Princess Buttercup the pterodactyl. "What?! I literally just killed you all!" Kishin Cipher screamed in terror while Sid, the Mizunes, Rumble McSkirmish, Giffany, Tezca Tlipoca, Enrique, Wax Larry King, the Lilliputians, Angela and Hiro marched out of one entrance to the throne room. "Teleportation bitch!" Free cackled dancing around with both middle fingers in the air. Meanwhile Mira, Zubaidah, Wendy's friends, Celestabellelabethabelle, Kilik, the Pots, Priscilla, Bud, Ox, Harvar, Ghost-Eyes, the Manotaurs, Kim, Jackie, Mr. Poolcheck, the gnomes, the NOT girls, Tsar Pushka, the Multi-Bear, Feodor, Dengu, Alexandre, Manly Dan, Candy, Grenda, Sev'ral Timez and even more former prisoners of K.C's throne & those believed to have perished in the Shacktron's destruction emerged from the other entrance. Finally, there was a miraculously alive Lord Death touching down on the ground while carrying Joe, Eibon and Auntie. "Father." Kid muttered in awe of his dad's survival. "You're all still alive!" Mabel cheered seeing everyone still in one piece. "But how did you all get out in time?" "It's like he said, that crazy eye of his saved us all at the last moment." Grenda explained. "Thanks for the lift hunky werewolf!" she thanked Free while Kim came to Maka's side to heal her broken arms. "Okay, you all want an epic, cinematic final battle?!" Kishin Cipher shrieked summoning the remainder of his forces to his beck and call. "Then come on, I got enough ridiculous looking monsters to suffice!" "Challenge accepted." Dipper smirked raising Excalibur to the sky. "TOGETHER EVERYONE!" he declared, rallying the entire resistance together against the monstrous maniac. "Let's get weird." Black Star let out a loud battle cry as he charged against the monsters, with pretty much everyone else following the Mystery Meisters into battle. Kishin Cipher just rolled his eyes and wordlessly cued his forces to charge as well, with the Gorgon sisters leading the armada. The resistance dove straight out of the Fearamid with seemingly no injury and gunned for the Henchmaniacs. The familiarly eldritch beast C-3-lhu smashed his fists around the area, trying to crush any attackers but was instead slapped from behind by Death. 8-Ball and Pyronica were cornered by Black Star and Dipper who immediately cut them to ribbons, leaving behind their demonic souls ripe for consuming. "Seriously? We just began this final battle and already I've down a few guys!" Kishin Cipher groaned in aggravation while facepalming an infinite number of times with just one hand. "Fine, I'll do it myself!" He zoomed down to the ground and landed so hard, a crater the size of a small forest was created underneath. Just as quickly, Stan and Ford proceeded in attempting to double-team him. "Wow, you two are just suicidal!" "This is where we end this you beast!" Ford shouted strangling K.C. "Like I said, suicidal!" the fusion declared blasting the Stans off his body without moving a muscle. "Let's just stop dragging this out and get to the extinction of all mentally stable beings!" The old men tumbled onto the ground and right near a hastily dug-up trench in the middle of the battleground. "Down here!" Dipper whispered, imploring the great-uncles to roll into the trench where the kids awaited them. "So what, are we gonna form a plan down here?" Stan asked while an explosion of madness went off nearby. "Exactly!" Dipper proclaimed. "Now what can we do that'll stop him once and for all?" he asked. "I got an idea!" Mabel piped up. "Remember that wheel thingy with all the pictures on it? Let's use that like we did with the Zodiac last year!" "You mean that new one Kishin Cipher put up when we first fought him?" Kid responded. "Yeah, that one." Mabel added. "We'll just need to gather everyone up and form the circles." Dipper was very impressed by his sister's planning. "Wow Mabel, this is kind of unlike you. Usually, I'm the planner here while you're the sidekick." "Actually Dipper, you're the sidekick." Mabel stated as an aside. "Enough talk, I'll draw the circle and the rest gather everyone up!" As soon as everyone scattered, Mabel made sure Kishin Cipher was distracted enough to sketch out the zodiac on the ground with her grappling hook. "Drawing stuff to save the world, doodly-doo." she sang to herself as she went along. "Okay Mabel, so remind me again." Stan stated when he and Ford returned with Stein & Spirit. "What are you even drawing, some overly complex game of hopscotch?!" "No brother, this is our destiny." Ford proclaimed gazing upon his great-niece's work. "Though it would make a good game of hopscotch." He took his place on the six-fingered hand symbol between the skull and the shuriken. "Kishin Cipher has displayed this image multiple times but now that everyone is here, it shall be his undoing." the scientist explained. "You, Stanley, are the mackerel." "Wait, that's a mackerel? Thought that was some kinda claw thing." Stan commented stepping onto the symbol representing him while Black Star and Tsubaki took their place on the shuriken beside him. "And the symbols can represent multiple people this time too!" Ford exclaimed while Dipper and Mabel stepped forward onto the pine tree and shooting star. "We're getting warmer everyone! Maka, Soul, you get the scythe and piano keys!" "Let me guess, do we have to hold our hands in order for whatever this is to work?" Soul wondered holding Mabel and Stan's hands just in case. "Exactly Soul, you're catching on!" Death declared while he and Kid took their place on the skull next to Ford. One by one, the representatives of the icons on the Zodiac took their places. Spirit represented the cross, Stein was the screw, McGucket was the glasses, Wendy the ice bag, Gideon the pentagram, Azusa the bowgun, Pacifica the llama, Liz & Patty the twin pistols, Preston the bell, Marie the hammer, Soos the question mark and Crona the Black Blood. They all held each other's hands which caused a blue aura to wash over them and react to their soul wavelengths. "Oh my gosh," Maka gasped. "is this a form of Soul Resonance!?" "Seems like it Maka. Keep holding hands!" Stein exclaimed. "Woo-hoo, it's working!" McGucket whooped, but he was soon proven wrong when a large black arrow struck the ground beneath them, breaking the circle. And the source of that arrow was none other than Medusa. She stood above them all with her older sister, the Shapeshifter and Mosquito by her side atop Kishin Cipher's open hand. "So you all cracked what the zodiac meant, eh?!" he smirked. "Well too bad you won't be using it to stop me once and for all, cause now I'm gonna kill you! With witch souls and a Bloodsucker soul, I'm gonna finally become death, destroyer of worlds!" "Wait, you want our souls?!" Mosquito suddenly panicked, realizing what would happen. "Why has no one else told me about this?!" Arachne put a hushing finger on her servant's lips. "He still requires a witch to become all-powerful my dearest butler. But too bad, you'll just have to face your death." "No please, I don't want any part in this anymore!" Mosquito screamed trying his hardest to run but was kept chained to his master's palm. "Shinigami, I beg of you! I surrender myself to your organization, just please save me!" Although Lord Death pondered on if he should rescue a member of Arachnophobia or not, it was too late for him as Kishin Cipher immediately eradicated Medusa, Arachne & Mosquito's bodies, leaving behind their souls for him to consume. Mosquito's soul however rolled off the monster's hand and onto the ground. "Oops, five second rule!" K.C. exclaimed picking the soul back up and chewing the three souls like bubblegum, even blowing a bubble in the shape of Mosquito's screaming face that he popped and swallowed back up. "And now, it begins!" Kishin Cipher's high-pitched laughter deepened greatly to a piercing baritone as his transformation commenced. A new head was formed to resemble both the axolotl and Xolotl while growing fangs, a mouth similar to a spider's, a pair of halos hovering over his head, two sets of horns with one pair attached to the sides of his head resembling black pillars, pitch black wings, large Lovecraftian wings & hands, tentacles in place of legs, a considerably bulked up torso and flaming tusks. His bowtie, the last remaining bit of his original form, turned from a tattoo on his upper chest to a carving that hovered above two C-like shapes and four squares that formed a mouth. "Bill Cipher? Kishin Asura? Phooey, they are no more!" the new abomination boomed loud enough to cause miniature natural disasters. "I am become Incarnate, the ultimate god of weirdness and madness! All who think are now mine to control! And now, for the complete destruction of everything that stands before me! BWAAAAA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" "Aw son of a bitch." Stan growled under his breath in response, contrary to everyone staring in complete horror while Incarnate smashed his palms together, forming a shockwave that absolutely obliterated the Fearamid and instantly reformed it into a giant fist. "PERISH!" Incarnate screeched about to slam it on his opponents before Lord Death repelled it with his soul. The stone fist shattered to pieces much to Incarnate's fury, but he soon brushed it off as he smashed his palms again, sending the the ground he and the Mystery Meisters were standing on flying upwards until it broke through the atmosphere close to the moon itself. "This is it everyone. All of humanity is on the line." Dipper declared planting Excalibur into the ground. "Whether we perish or not, Bill and Asura must die." Maka added while her soul expanded to protect herself and the others. "We'll win this! I know we will!" Mabel stated cheerfully preparing her grappling hook. "Let's finish this." Soul concluded. Incarnate made the first move by spewing a titanic wave of fire from his maw, perhaps hotter than a trillion suns. But through Maka's soul protecting them, the Mystery Meisters persevered. Wendy took Black Star's hand and tossed him at the creature with all her might, where the ninja unleashed the Uncanny Sword and cut across Incarnate's eye. "AGH, YOU LITTLE SHIT!" "Nice teamwork you two!" Ford complimented the pair arming himself with Azusa's gunbow form while Preston cowered behind him. "You know what? I believe you all got this covered." the Northwest nervously said. "If you'll excuse me, I'm planning on finding a safe place to hide until you save the universe and going on my merry way when we return to Earth." "Oh no you don't Northwest, we're all in this together and that includes you!" Stanford scolded his rival while handing him Azusa. Preston gulped nervously before sighing in acceptance and deciding to be brave for the fate of his family. "Alright fine, what can I do?" "Shoot him as a distraction while I find a weakpoint!" Ford commanded charging forth while Preston knelt down and took aim. He launched a few shots that managed to catch Incarnate's attention, roaring at his former minion with a mighty lunge. However, another shot managed to ward him off. "Uh, can anyone help?" "You got it!" Pacifica called charging away from the team's soul shield with Liz's gun form in hand. Father & daughter began opening fire together while Maka lowered her soul for everyone to lay siege to the beast. All at once, the Mystery Meisters struck Incarnate down. Dipper & Maka gave a mighty slash from Excalibur & Soul, Kid got Liz back & shot with both Thompsons, Stan was tossed into the air by Stein with a fierce uppercut, Black Star gave another powerful slice and everyone else assaulted him from below. "ENOUGH!" Incarnate bellowed, knocking everybody away. "I've had it up to here with all this resistance to my awesome power!" he finally snapped. "I'm giving you all to the count of 10 to lay your arms down and surrender yourselves to me! TEN!" "What kind of idiot is he? He's literally buying us enough time to stop him!" Spirit commented. "NINE!" "Everybody, zodiac again!" Ford declared getting everyone into two circles. "EIGHT!" "Keep holding hands, keep holding hands!" Dipper panicked. "SEVEN!" "We need to act quickly!" Maka added as the blue aura washed all over them. "SIX!" "Hey, is this supposed to happen?" Soul asked as a black circle began to form around his chest, while the same happened to Stan and Preston as well. -- "I don't want to go." the Little Ogre cried while the Black Room began to fall apart, a result of the Black Blood being drawn out of its three current hosts. -- "FI-hey, what's going on?" Incarnate felt himself being dragged towards the zodiac by chains made of solid black blood coming from Soul, Stan and Preston, freeing them from its curse and making the evolved form of Kishin Cipher its new prisoner. "WHY DID I EVEN COUNT DOWN FROM TEN ANYWAY?!" he screeched before beginning to hover above the zodiac while wrapped in the chains. Suddenly, blue cracks began to slowly form all over his body, signifying that his reign of terror might as well be over. "Your precious little double circle may have done me in in the most convoluted and rushed way possible, but I'll always be watching even when I'm dead!" "Not for long!" Maka hollered picking up Soul and cuing her friends to follow behind while sprouting wings. "What are those?!" Mabel gasped in wonder at the glimmering pair of wings. "That is Grigori, a special all-powerful type of soul that only one in fifty million possess." Kid explained. "And as it turns out, Maka is one of them." "We can talk about how we never explained this earlier, let's go!" Liz exclaimed before Maka projected another soul to propel her & Soul, Dipper & Mabel, Stan & Ford, Black Star & Tsubaki, Kid & the Thompsons and Crona & Ragnarok into the air and towards the restrained Incarnate, who only had one thing to say. "DIE!" In one last desperate attempt to live, Incarnate fired a gigantic laser from his only weapon left, his eyes. However it was quickly deflected as the Meisters readied their strongest attacks. Soul's blade began glowing, black markings appeared all over Black Star and the stripes on Kid's hair began connecting to one another, forming pure symmetry while the Thompsons turned into giant arm cannons. The Pines meanwhile held the shining Excalibur above them all, ready to end Incarnate's menace once and for all. "No! NO! NOOOOO!" Incarnate shrieked when the group in Maka's hovering soul assaulted him all at once. "Farewell," Ford snarled. "you three-sided son of a bitch!" "SIX-SIDE SOUL RESONANCE!" Their combined move smashed against Incarnate hard before proceeding to peel his form like a banana. "THIS CAN'T BE POSSIBLE!" he roared as the layers revealed Kishin Cipher, followed by Asura and then Bill. "YOU CAN REMAIN MENTALLY STABLE! BUT AS LONG AS YOU ALL STAY MAD AND WEIRD, I'LL ALWAYS BE THEEEEEERRREEEE!" -- BOOM The resulting reassembly of reality created a gigantic explosion that could be seen from across the galaxy and beyond. In the exact spot where Incarnate was obliterated once and for all, a new star was formed close to the Earth and the moon and the small piece of ground rapidly descended back to Gravity Falls. "Uh, what just happened?" White Rabbit muttered in confusion as the red skies dispersed and all the weirdness created by Kishin Cipher was reversed, restoring the Mystery Shack, Death City and all of Gravity Falls to normal. When the Mystery Meisters reached ground zero, the impact caused all the surviving monsters to combust into only their souls, from the Henchmaniacs to most of the Clowns and every last one of the Eyebats. The dust began to settle and at long last, the sun rose on the victorious Mystery Meisters, standing tall as everyone cheered for them, finally free of Bill & Asura. "Priscilla, my dear!" Preston cried racing into his wife's arms. "Mom!" Pacifica added following her dad. "Together again, at long last." Priscilla sighed in relief. "We did it, we did it! Lo hicimos, we did it!" Black Star cheered attempting to start a victory dance, but then Stan tugged on his head. "Simmer down Dora, I think we all know what we need more than a dance party." the old man remarked falling down on the ground fast asleep. "You're right. All that fighting for our lives made me pooped." Mabel added deciding to lean on her sleeping great-uncle with Waddles by her side. "Oh Waddles." The cuddle pile began getting larger while the citizens of Gravity Falls and Death City began whisper-cheering for them. Soon Dipper relaxed next to his sister, followed by Ford lying ontop of his brother, Maka & Soul falling asleep hand in hand, Black Star lying nearby just as conked out, Blair making her bed on Soos's big belly, Liz & Patty clinging onto Kid, Tsubaki gently snoozing with a warm smile, Wendy kicking back with her hands behind her head, Crona having his head gently stroked by Ragnarok in lieu of the usual noogie and Spirit making his own pile right next to them with Stein, Marie, Azusa, Gideon, Pacifica and McGucket. Excalibur just chuckled and benignly declared "Never change you fools." -- Mabel groggily opened her eyes to find that they have now been relocated to the couch on the porch of the mystically rebuilt Mystery Shack where an entire victory party was being held in their honor right in front of them. "Wait just a second!" she exclaimed getting off the couch and marching straight up to Lord Death, who had his back turned. "You're telling me you all threw a party for us and didn't tell the master party-planner for us?!" "Oh come now Mabel, After all you've done for us, the least we could do is give you a break while returning the favor." Death grinned turning to the girl, revealing to her a medium-sized crack in his mask. "Oh my gosh, what happened to your face?!" Mabel cried in shock. "It's all crackly! Do you need some face cream, or a dermatologist?!" "Mabel?" Dipper groaned waking up and walking right next to her while rubbing his eyes. "Whoa, did you do all this while we were sleeping?" "Yes, yes we did sport!" Joe declared pridefully with a slice of cake in hand. "You hungry?" he offered the confectionary treat to the boy. "I'd be happy to, after all of this." Dipper beamed taking the cake. "Hey, what's the big idea?!" Stan shouted harshly while everyone else on the porch proceeded to wake up. "Who's shindig is this for anyway?" "It, Stanley, is for all of you. For helping to save reality from Bill and Asura." Death announced. "Oh don't mind this crack on my mask. It's just a sign that my baby boy is growing up so fast." "He's right, look Kid!" Soos agreed looking at Kid. "One of those lines on your head, it's been connected!" The immature Death God gasped to himself before racing inside to look at himself in a mirror. "My stars, they're all correct." he said in wonder that the bottom stripe on his hair had now connected. "Almost perfect symmetry, just like I've desired!" Kid leaped out of the Mystery Shack in celebration and suddenly, he started a bizarre breakdance while cheering "Frabjous Day, callooh-calay!" The reception to Kid's celebration was decidedly mixed. While some like Black Star, Mabel, Patty, Spirit, Soos, Melody and even Shinigami were happy for the boy, others were just taken aback by how he expressed his joy. "What is he, Johnny Depp?" Liz rolled her eyes. "Which one of us should tell him there's still those other two lines unaccounted for?" Stan added high-fiving the teenage pistol. "Just let him have his fun." Ford grinned tapping his foot to the beat. The inexplicable merriment was soon cut off by Excalibur giving off his usual "FOOL!" "Oh, do you want to say something Excalibur?" Dipper asked the Holy Sword. "There's just a few somethings for our Meister friends as well." Excalibur announced revealing a group of souls underneath a cloche. Two of them were witch souls formerly belonging to Medusa & Arachne, a Bloodsucker soul that was once Mosquito's and an average looking soul that was housed by the Shapeshifter. "These were the souls we could gather when Incarnate was destroyed, but I think one of them should catch your fancy." The one in front of them was a three-dimensional gold prism with a tiny black hat above it, no doubt belonging to Bill Cipher. "Is that Bill's soul?" Ford gasped. "I can't believe it, we actually killed him! But where's Asura?" "Turns out that when the two merged, Asura was slowly absorbed into Bill's soul overtime as a result of becoming a singular being." Stein exposited. "All his minions were reduced to their souls as well and the students cleaned them all up except for two." he revealed turning his screw. "Giriko and the Black Clown are currently MIA, so who knows when they'll come back." "But wherever they'll go, we'll be there. Stronger than ever." Maka declared. "Speaking of which Soul, which do you want to eat tonight?" she asked her weapon boyfriend. "Dibs on Arachne." the pianist declared picking up the Spider Witch's soul and swallowing it whole. "Now how many souls does that make?" "Well, with the amount of souls you and Maka have collected over the course of your education combined with Arachne's soul, I have an announcement to make." Death stated. "Congratulations, you have finally become a Death Scythe!" "Soul, we finally did it!" Maka shrieked joyfully with a kiss on her partner's cheek. "It's just like we always dreamed of!" Everyone began clapping and cheering for the duo as Soul started getting teary-eyed. "Aw shucks. Twas nothing." he stated bashfully. "Nothing you say? I say you earned it sport!" Spirit declared. "Your family would've been so proud of you." "Thanks Spirit." Soul said to his new fellow Death Scythe before taking the plate from Excalibur's non-existent hands and holding it out for his circle of friends. "Anyone else want some? It's on me!" "I'll take Medusa and Bill." Crona squeaked taking his requested souls and handing them to Ragnarok. "Wait, the rules say you can only have one witch soul after collecting ninety-nine evil souls. Am I breaking the rules?" "Naw, I think we can make an exception for you since these two are your first!" Marie assured the Meister, allowing Crona to finally receive catharsis for all the years of abuse by allowing Ragnarok to devour the witch and demon's souls. "Damn that felt good!" Ragnarok cheered after he gulped them down. "Serves that snake-faced bitch right for melting me down!" Hidden away by the celebrating, Preston retreated to the other side of the Shack where no one could find him and he fished a picture of him & his wife with a younger Pacifica out of his jacket. "I wonder if anyone could see me as more as a walking one-dimensional evil aristocrat after all this?" "Hey, Northwest." Ford called out following behind. "Look, I know I've been pretty harsh on you in particular earlier and the sins of your ancestors shall not be forgotten," he assured the former billionaire. "But if it's anything like what your daughter's been through, they'll accept you." "Thank you Stanford." Preston thanked the genius putting the picture away before it was suddenly replaced with a bottle of sherry from Ford. "So, you want to join me, my brother and Spirit for a few drinks later?" he offered. Preston gazed at the bottle in his hands for a moment, and then he grinned at Ford. "Of course." -- "Okay, a little to the left!" Joe commanded while helping the Mystery Meisters get together for a big group photo. "No, your other left! No, further to the other left!" "Just accept there's no such thing as an other left and take the photo!" Stan shouted. "Sheesh, this is taking forever." he muttered to himself. "After this picture is taken, you're gonna vamoose, right?" "Exactly." Kid replied. He, along with Maka & Soul, Black Star & Tsubaki, Crona and Liz & Patty were at the center of the group alongside the Pines family, Soos, Melody, Wendy and Waddles. Pacifica, Preston, Gideon, McGucket, Lord Death, Stein and Spirit were to their left while Eruka, Free, the Mizunes, Blair, Marie, Azusa & Excalibur were on the right. "Remind me, where did we hide the journals again?" Mabel asked. "Why, in the same place I first found the third one last summer!" Dipper answered. "And I even had a little note telling people to noti find it." Soos added. "Yeah, they're totally safe now." "Okay, everybody ready?" Joe exclaimed just about to take the picture. "Everybody say something stupid!" Mabel commanded making a silly face. "Something stupid!" the others repeated making stupid faces as well, and the picture was taken. -- "Last call for Death City! I repeat, last call for Death City! All aboard!" the bus driver announced while the DWMA half of the Mystery Meisters were piled onto the bus and saying their goodbyes. "Farewell everyone!" Lord Death exclaimed waving a foam hand out the window. "Til our paths cross once more!" "Goodbye everybody! Be sure to keep in contact!" Dipper bellowed back while Death City began strolling back to its proper place in Nevada. "A walking city. Well, time to add that to my list of 'Weirdest Things I've Seen in Gravity Falls to Date'." he muttered. "Hope you like those sweaters I made you all!" Mabel exclaimed. "I'm really going to miss you!" "My Miniature Equine fans for life sistah!" Patty fistpumped before Liz shoved her back in her seat. "We'll miss you too gang." the older Thompson sister said. "Goodbye." Maka muttered when the bus finally began to take off back to their home. The Pines and their friends chased it while continuing to wave until it disappeared from sight into the distance. Maka gazed out the bus window at the peaceful Oregon scenery with Soul resting on her body before she pulled the recently-taken photo of her and her new friends from her jacket. Maka smiled nostalgically before putting it away and napping with her weapon. -- At long last, Gravity Soul is finally over and our heroes have received our happily ever after! Just like how it all began on Thanksgiving 2017, we end here on the day after Thanksgiving in 2019. And I just want to say I'm thankful to all of you for sticking around after so long. But there's just a few treats in store after this author's note. Until we meet again everyone, remember to go three letters back! -- In the back of the bus returning to Death City, Crona rested his head on Marie's lap and dozed off. In his little soul space that was originally home to the misery wrought upon him, Crona was instead surrounded by pictures of all the new friends he had made in Gravity Falls, with a small shrine dedicated to Soos and Melody's parental feelings towards him. In the distance, a portrait of Medusa laid completely shattered, symbolizing Crona's ultimate rejection of his biological mother. Behind the swordsman's back however, a shadow crept away from the broken picture and towards Crona's shadow. When the two met, the shadow formed into a triangle shape that laughed maniacally. Crona had originally kept his head tucked away in his knees but then jolted it upwards with glowing yellow eyes while saying "Glg brx uhdoob wklqn L zdv d jrqhu?" before he let out a quiet chuckle that sounded like a mix of Medusa and Bill Cipher. -- Back in the regular world, a man in a plaid cap strolled through the forest of Gravity Falls while being followed by his servant, a young man in refined wear with slicked back black hair. "There has to be something here." the capped man muttered to himself while examining the trees. "Gopher, knock on every last tree in the area for clues." he ordered his young servant. "Yes master." Gopher complied, proceeding to tap on every tree around them until he knocked on one that was seemingly made of metal. "Master, this tree is not like the others." "I can hear that Gopher." Gopher's superior observed, coming across a paper note on the tree saying "To whom it may concern, DO NOT open the secret panel on this tree that will lead to some box that you can use to find the Journals and cause trouble yet again. Thanks dude! Love, Soos." "Now you're just asking for trouble." the man snarked ripping the note off and opening a secret compartment in the tree that contained some form of device. Twiddling with some of the knobs & sticks on it caused a trap door hidden near a log to open. "What is it now master?" Gopher asked his boss while they examined the crevice. Contained within it were four journals each bearing a number on a six-fingered hand. The man picked the third one up and began skimming through it. "Gopher, contact Lady Ponera at once." "What for master?" Gopher asked, ready to obey his master Noah Grimoire's every last word. "Tell her we found something she'll like." Noah smirked as he closed the book and examined the other three.        

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2010s: 45 - 41

45.  Rasmussen - “Higher ground” Denmark 2018

[2018 Review here]

FRIZ DEE YERRO, WINDY YERRRRR

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Remember when Christer rejected “Higher ground” from Melfest and it was the fucking WORST Melfest ever? Remember how Denmark recycled it and let it win DMGP? Well...

OOOOOOOOOOOOOWNED SO HARD!! and not just Sweden to be honest, because “Higher ground” slaps, even a full year after the fact. It’s a paragon of righteous scandi energy, conceived in a mancave over a keg of mead, inspired by a tale of medival pacifism (which actually makes it non-toxicly masculine), imprinted on by Game of Thrones (a wonderful tv series that ended when the White Walkers melted down the ice wall and murdered everybody in Westeros ^__^)

In a nutshell, an absolutely kick ass entry.

Truth be told, it is IMPOSSIBLE to not get up from my chair, pound my chest and march along with the Old Norse (😍) post-chorus chanting. Rasmussen DELIVERS a performance so intense it rips the space/time continuum and creates a portal to the good old Viking days. 100% deserving of being 2018′s KEiiNO and the highest Danish entry on this ranking!

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44. Pasha Parfeny - “Lăutar” Moldova 2012

THIS DRAMPET MAKES U MIME GIRL

Pasha Parfeny looks like this now:

😬 

Years of being awesome clearly took their toll on poor Pasha, but I will cherish him for the fountain of fun he has always been.  “Lăutar”  is such an uninhibited display for Moldovan FOLK, bringing out the dulcimers, horns and “drampets” to bring a much-needed ethic palate cleanser after the musical genocide committed on the Baku Stage. It also features some of the best dance choreography found in this decade, in which Pasha and dancers hop around the stage like overexcited gerbils <3

(btw: the pink dancer SLAYS me every single time.)

Such a frivolous, playful, adorable act that radiates mirth from every pore. 😍 But wait, we aren’t done, because “ Lăutar” also features some of the more memorable, hilarious, iconic butcherings of the English language found in this decade (”You haven’t seen before the looks like drampet. 😍 Butter sound go straight to ur soul”😍). It certainly helps that Pasha is like a male Ruslana, struggling to express himself and resulting some hilarious awkward interview gold (Eurovision.tv: “Pasha, what is your secret for happiness” Pasha: “Make good sex ^__^”  Eurovision.tv: “. . .” 😍)

Naturally, a Pasha write-up cannot be finished without noting how central he is to ‘Moldova in Eurovision’, almost as much as Moldova’s staging is. This little man’s (literally. He’s like 1.65m lol) musical legacy includes:

- writing and performing Lăutar in 2012 - being a former vocalist for Sunstroke Project - being the mentor of Aliona Moon and writing her 2013 song - being the original songwriter for DoReDoS before Kirkorov took over   In other words, he is ~CONNECTED~ to every epic, high-tier Moldovan entry. WHAT AN ICON. Stay Safe Pavel!!

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43. Dino Merlin - “Love in rewind” Bosnia - Herzegovina 2011

Finishing 6th place from the death slot when will ur faves...x Man I do love my narrative entries, and it doesn’t get much better than an old man reflecting back on his life’s had, satisfied with its outcome. It’s such a c00t premise and Dino Merlin plays the part of the adorable grandfather with conviction. 😍 Even manages to transform Maja Sar into a fun hume for once:

“Love in rewind” really is all about the group effort. Dino himself is of course fantastic and makes this performance, but his troupe of ragtag troubadours carry a lot of weight as well, providing a wackadoodle wonderland for Dino to project his nostalgia onto.  

And then there’s the question of “Love in rewind” itself. It is easy to lump it in with all the other frivolous folk, but in reality it’s an experimental avant garde song disguised as folk 😈 (exactly like “Putnici”, in fact!). The song is made into an artform by a few unorthodox, sudden key changes. Key changes hated by the millennial wannabe pitchfork crew, but here at BorisBubbles we don’t support weakness so let’s wave them all goodbye in celebration of what is easily Bosnia’s best Eurovision entry:

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42. JOWST ft. Aleksander Wallman - “Grab the moment”  Norway 2017

[2017 Review here]

As a shameless EDM Hound, I have to admit that I am totally smitten by this piece of electronic undergroundness. A wonderful epileptic seizure of pitch black and lavender, executed to perfection by Aleksander Wallman. “Grab the moment” offers show-stopping visual effects, great vocal execution and an additctive beat. THE TRIPLE THREAT OF LIVE MUSIC!

Fortunately, there’s also a great underlying message. I haven’t really talked about the Mental Health Anthem all that much in this ranking, but that’s mostly because I haven’t ranked most of them yet. Any song that inspires people to believe in themselves, that it is okay to be imperfect and that tackles social issues such as procrastination and neurosis HEAD ON and WITH RESPECT, deserves praise.

Which is exactly what JOWST & Aleksander do, specifically by addressing young heterosexual men. 😍 (ie: the demograph that is the least likely to reach out for a support when they need it). They do this very cleverly, by using teenspeak to discuss the ever-relatable theme crippling anxiety and how to lay it aside and get shit done. 🤜🤛 so let us all 

KILL k177 K!££

~ThEvOiCeInMyHeAd~

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41.  Ruth Lorenzo - “Dancing in the Rain Spain 2014

THE RAIIIIIN THE RAIIIIN THE RAIIIIIN

Ruth. Yo quiero ser Ruth. Because Ruth is emblematic of Spain’s biggest (only) strength in Eurovision: the LOUD OVERDRAMATIC SCREECHING POWERBALLAD 😍 There are so many precedents to Ruth, from “Él” to “Vuelve Conmigo” to “Bailar pegados” to “Quedate conmigo” but “Dancing in the rain” may be my favourite of the lot. In part because Ruth is a GODDESS and I was *invested* in her success the second she won the NF:

Which she then followed up by forming a backstage bitch coven with Conchita and Suzy. 😍 Excuse me for a moment, I have to lay myself down and blow myself with a fan because that alliance contains so much awesomeness it gives me palpitations. 

But I mostly love “Dancing in the rain” because of the performance. It’s a great composition in its own right, providing intense screaminess, well-executed language changes and of course, literal stage rain. 😍 However, Ruth is SO intense in her delivery it becomes a moment of contemplation, of exaltation, and of stupefication as Ruth’s SONIC ENERGY washes over us like a tsunami of sound. DEJA CAER, DEJA LA LLUVIA CAER, THE RAIN THE RAIN THE RAIN

________________________________________________________________

and since this is the last update for Spain, Bosnia, Moldova and Denmark, I’ll include my overall thoughts below. 

DENMARK

The only people who like Denmark in this decade are those with negative taste and no self-respect and those desperately wanting to be Swedes but never will be Swedes (ie: Danes)

MOLDOVA

Not a ‘perfect’ track record, but still an excellent showing for a country with so few resources. Moldova is one of my favourite countries in ESC and this chart should show you why. 

BOSNIA - HERZEGOVINA

Bosnia - Herzegovina participated four times in this decade and were epic exactly once. Thank you for that... now I normally would add that I miss them but, nah. Bye. 

SPAIN

I am honestly shocked Spain didn’t do worse on my ranking?? I don’t think they’re like.. a ‘TERRIBLE’ esc country the way Ireland and Montenegro are, but jesus fuck out of the cavalcade of incompetent countries that have no idea what the fuck they’re doing, Spain is the giantslewofincompetentcountriesthathavenoideawhatthefuckthey’redoingest. Which is puzzling given that all of their high results come from kickass female-fronted powerballads, ie: the easiest trope to nail. (case in point: Macedonia scored a top 10 with one. Macedonia.) JUST STICK TO THOSE and ditch the wannabe reggaetons. 

[all-hail-the-winterking]

The Winterking

Lemon - NC-17 / frostwolf fanfic Sansa x Loki

TITLE OF STORY: The Winterking 

CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Chapter 1 of 4

AUTORS BLOG: all-hail-the-winterking

WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki

GENRE: crossover Game of Thrones/Marvel

FIC SUMMARY: Loki rescuring Sansa by the battle of Blackwater

RATING: Mature NC-17 

WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: blood and lemon

FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Frostwolf

Sansa stood with a smile on her lips at her window and watched the magic fire. Green flames licked at the wall of King's Landing.

She smelled the flesh of the burning bodys, heard the screams of Lanister soldiers and her heart beat faster. There was also the shouting and laughing of the strange horde of giants behind the wall.

The few she could see looked a bit like the Snowwalker the old nanny in Winterfell had told her about. And Bran. And Arya. This seemed a thousand years ago.

But these snowwalkers were blue like dirty ice, not white like snow. They were quick and sharp moving and danced more than they fought. Not the slow walk her nanny had told about the others. These giants were alive and strong - and killers.

„The world is built by killers“, she heard the Hound's last words in her mind.

He was here before. To save her, so he said. He truly thought these giants outside the wall would hurt her.

Sansa needed all her strength and courtesy to play the fearful maiden, but at last she had said no. He was a ugly, stinky, drunken dog … but she would not kick him.

He had saved her pretty face often enough, that she never would forget. At the end he was to proud to beg – the Gods are good! - and let go. She tried to calm him and sent him away.

'Let the mother look after him', Sansa thought and suddenly she heard the loud crackling sound of breaking wood. She could not see the Gate of Mudwater, but the shouts of triumph from the giants was answer enough.

'King's Landing will fall tonight. But for what?', she thought. 'Will he have me or his revenge?'

Could he forget Sansas choice? A choice she had made when she had been very young and very stupid.

She could have had the Winter Prince, a year ago. Although in exil for the moment and at this time without an own kingdom. But he was gentle and brave and strong and her father liked him very much.

By remembering her father, Sansas eyes started to fill with tears.

She had murdered her father, this she understood now. Murdered him with her wrong choice for the young and handsome prince of King's Landing.

'I had forgotten I am the blood of Winterfell', Sansa thought. 'The Winter Prince would had suited me well – not the Summer Prince. And my father had to die for this.'

All the things that had happened to her seemed like her punishment for her betrayal. The beating by the knights, the stripping in front of the court, the riot and the violence against her.

- "We have a guest." Sansa turned to her sister. Arya had stormed into her chamber without knocking, as usual dressed in boys clothes. "Father found him in the wood's!"

"What are you talking about?", Sansa laughed and rose from her chair. "A guest from the woods?"

For a silly moment she thought of the children of the woods and that Father had found one of this mystical creatures. She didn't knew how close she came with this idea.

"A sorcerer boy, well a prince. So he said.", Arya starts to explain. She took Sansa's hand and drew her sister to the window.

"Arg.. Arya! You are making me all dirty! Why must you be always such a mess?"

"Shh! Stop that and look!" Arya pointed outside the window to the back yard and the stable.

And Sansa saw Loki the first time.

A young man, slender and tens like a archer, sitting on a horse as if he was born on one. The pale, thin face full of confidence, his piercing green eyes intelligent and glittering in amusement. He rode with Lord Eddard and a group of hunters back to the stables.

Arya must had talked to loud there he looked up. Loki's eye catched Sansa and he smirked wide. -

Sansa sighed and tried to follow the fight under her window. Now she could watch the giants better. Blue skinned, red eyed, shouting, joyfully laughing, they smashed all living souls on the streets. This was no battle. This was slaughter.

So near by her window, the green magic fire like daylight, she realized the shiny knives in the hands of the giants were no knives. There were the giant's hands, morphed into sharp, icy spears.

Dead bodys piled against the inner wall and blood covered the cobbles in front of the Red Keep. She understood completly why the Hound was so afraid. Her own fear lay like a stone in her stomach. With wild beating heart and dry mouth Sansa saw the blue giants entering the Red Keep.

'What will happen to all the women?' The question hit her like a massive blow. If she was the queen, she would ask for mercy. She would beg to leave the women alone and take her instead. A queen had to be more valuable than a high lady.

"Ceisei“, Sansa whispered. This queen knew only one form of mercy. Sir Illen's sword.

Slow panic started to burn in Sansa. Should she go back and try to help? But what could she do? She was not the queen, she was only a traitor's daughter and a sweet slice of cake, she recalled bitterly. But Sansa prayed to the gods to have mercy, for Ceisei, too. She prayed so hard to the old gods, someone must have heard her!

Suddenly there were heavy footsteps near her chamber. Now it would happen. Someone came for her.

With shaking knees she sidled without a noise into the shadow of the door, so she could watch the entering person before he saw her.

Breathlessly Sansa saw the door open slowly, and the silhouette of a tall human entered her bedroom.

He held a candle in his right hand, which he raised to bring more light into her chamber.

By this light she recognized him. His hair laid now long and wild on his back and he was in full amour of heavy green leather and metal plating, which she had never sawn on him before.

The year before she left Winterfell, he was a gentle, joyfull man. But now he was one of them. A killer. Sansa saw this in the way he moved, the way he stood.

Suddenly he turned his head, and his green eyes caught hers.

Sansas heart stopped for a moment. His face had changed most. His youth and freshness was gone and replaced by pale skin and deep sunken eyes. There was a shimmer of rage and hunger in them, that made Sansa fear he had come finally just to hurt her.

"There you are“, he hissed. To Sansas relief he smiled softly. The exiled prince of frostland was not gone altogether.

With a careful move he went a step nearer and began: “I have a gift fo-“ but in this moment Sansa saw what this gift was, saw the fleshy thing of blond hair and blood and literally jumped in his arms.

„My King!“, she laughed and cried at the same time and covered his face with kisses and tears.

Surprises he let go of her gift and Sansa heard the sound of flesh and bones droped on the ground and felt his strong embrace at the same moment.

Their lips found each other and she pressed her mouth harshly on his.

He was bitter and cold and spicy and for her it was the best she ever tasted. „This time I will not let him go“, she thought and licked his lips.

[annalisacoppolino]

A Court of Hope and Legacy - episode 7

I had a lot of fun writing this episode. Hope you’ll love the new characters as much as I do❣

To read the previous episode click here.

Also on Wattpad.

     Distant echoes of life came to her in fleeting screeches of night birds as she struggled to keep track of time. Darkness, damp and stagnant silence as her only companions. The moon was a phantom presence lingering at the top of the stone funnel opening several levels higher into the sky.      Suri felt entombed, enveloped in the unstirred air of the dungeon and in foreign shadows spreading around her like cobwebs, trying to swallow her completely. She knocked her head on the bars once. Twice. And kept doing it for a while feeling less alone at sound of bone against metal. She slid the tips of her fingers down the thick iron bars, feeling under her hands the odd symbols engraved there. They covered every surface of the cell, from ceiling to floor—Suri had never seen anything like them.      In the long hours she’d spent down here, courtesy of Eris, Suri had been studying them carefully. As it plainly was, these marks had the extraordinary faculty to block out her powers. That she knew, the only way to achieve that effect was using Hybern’s ancient chains, and yet, here was this other diabolic trick; she knew the chains of the King had all been destroyed, and these carvings felt far from that sort of magic anyway. Suri didn’t know how to explain it, but they felt—older. She wasn’t an expert but from the look of them the symbols followed some unrecognizable pattern, like letters.      If only Aksel were with her. He would surely know about them.      He wouldn’t have gotten into this kind of trouble to start with, actually.      Now it didn’t matter—she obviously wasn’t her brother. The only thing that counted was that once she got out Suri would cut away the arrogant grin of Eris from that pretty face of his.      The sound of approaching footsteps drew her out of her thoughts. Gold embroideries glinted in the dark as four guards stopped in front of her cell ordering her to step back. Suri did as she was told without arguing. The bulkier one opened the door always keeping a watchful eye on her, lest she should decide to pick a fight, and stepped aside to let her out. Suri could have used the shackles engraved with magic symbols they’d put on her wrists to strangle the guard, then knock on the head the next who came after her, and next, and the next. But what point was there in killing them? They were already taking her right where she wanted—to the High Lord.      Suri kept walking, two guards flanking her and two following behind. She recognized the path to the same room in the tower where she and Keran had been received by Eris the day before.      Keran must have been taken to another part of the dungeon, she did not know where, for she had not heard or seen him the whole night. Suri didn’t have to wonder for much longer, though. He was there, similarly escorted and chained, waiting for her. They filed into the room through open doors and found and empty throne welcoming them this time. The eight guards accompanying Suri and Keran spread out along the circular perimeter of the turret, standing at attention.      That bastard was enjoying this till the very end.      Eris had caged them with his treacherous magic, thrown them into a damp cell and let them wallowing in mildew.      He was so finished.      The sun started to tinge the sky outside announcing the beginning of the new day, and Suri felt her resolution growing stronger with every minute that passed. Her hands were literally itching with eagerness to fight when the Cauldron finally decided to please her.      Suri and Keran turned their heads in unison to behold the entrance of the High Lord: Eris was walking toward them entirely shrouded in flames lapping his body. The fire burned hotter than hell on Suri’s skin at a distance, while Eris didn’t look troubled in the slightest as the red tongues danced around him, his amber eyes also ablaze and sending out scorching sparkles.      Suri was regretfully forced to step back as she felt the leather of her suit starting to melt with the skin underneath. Eris walked slowly through Suri and Keran to reach his seat, the exposed patches of their skin sizzling. Just as Suri was about to let down her stoical composure and back well away from that unbearable heat, the High Lord smothered the flames and sat on his chair, eyes still smoldering. His rage felt tangible when he spilled a vibrating roar.      “You,” he stabbed a finger at both of them. “You will pay. Don’t you dare think for a second to come into my house, elude an explicit ban of mine, abuse of my hospitality—even kill a member of my Court—and walk away without repercussions. I don’t know and I don’t care if you acted on your own, or if you were sent here by your parents with ill intent all along, but I’ll make sure this kind of disrespect is never showed again in the future. Your punishment will be exemplary.”      Suri stood with her back straight, wearing an unimpressed expression against the sweat still trickling down her temples. She stepped forward and glowered at the High Lord. “If apologies are what you’re looking for, I think you’re going to be disappointed.”      Eris laughed heartily to her face. “Apologies you say. You’ll regret even crossing my threshold.” He stood up and set his foot on the first step of the raised dais, regarding her as he would do with any chained dog. “You can start telling me what Vaun revealed to you.”      Suri scratched her chin with a nail as in deep thought, rattling her shackles. “Vaun... Who’s this?”      Eris stalked to her, brandishing fire in his right hand. “Don’t play games with me, little girl, or you’ll get burned. Vaun was the man you killed, my best alchemist, and you know it perfectly well.”      “Ah,” exclaimed Suri. “Sure. I didn’t know his name. Keran, do you remember? Vaun—the one who soiled himself and begged like a dog.”      Wildfire spurted out from Eris’ hand, reaching a threatening distance from Suri. Keran turned to her with a half-pleading look on his face; this was difficult to him, since everything they’d done from their arrival had been jeopardizing the long-lasting alliance between the Autumn Court and his own, ruining the efforts of his father. Suri could understand and respect that, so she ceased the outright insults in favor of a hostile silence—she could try, at least.      “I’m not asking twice.” The low rumble in the voice of the High Lord didn’t admit a refusal.      Suri preserved her composure stubbornly, but she felt Keran waver next to her. Then a tremor shuddered the turret through all its length. Suri snapped her head up toward the roof where something had just crashed. For as quick as her reaction was, Suri heard them coming before actually seeing them: two sets of mighty wings, booming like impending thunders over their heads. The sun at their backs, gliding inside through the open sides of the tower like nightmarish creatures, the two Illyrians made a spectacular entrance. Suri thought with regret that the effect would have been much improved if the trio had been completed by herself, though. Their landing was perfect as well. They were quite a view—the lanky figure of one warrior standing next to the bulky frame of the other.      “Sorry to interrupt,” said Kaden as way of greeting.      The wicked grin on Ronin’s face told quite the opposite instead. Smaller in stature than Kaden, he made up for every inch he lacked with sheer force and his pugnacious appearance.      “Who are you, and how did you get in?” The cold and murderous tone in the words hissed through Eris’ gritted teeth was a harbinger of bloodshed.      “Your security measures proved... a bit lacking—you’re welcome, by the way; we were glad to help your guards figuring out how to best improve themselves. As for your first question, High Lord,” Kaden bowed to the waist, “we are humble middlemen, speaking in name of our Commander, Cassian.”      “Your Commander has no authority here—no one invited you!” barked Eris.      “I did.”      Everyone turned toward the open doors to the throne room as Lady Aileen strutted in and walked past Suri and Keran to stop in front of the High Lord. “My Lord, I’m here to negotiate the release of my son.”      “And we’ll do the same for our Deputy Commander, if you allow it,” cut in Kaden. He and Ronin had taken advantage of the general surprise following the arrival of Lady Aileen to sneak through the room and position themselves on either flank of Suri—two pillars, her loyal comrades. It looked like they knew of Suri and Keran’s situation; somehow, word must had reached the right ears and reinforcements had been sent.      “Aileen,” drawled sourly Eris, “I expected more from your son. We are kin, after all.” They were indeed, since Tamlin had married into the Autumn Court nobility.      “I don’t deny his wrongdoings. But his recklessness has extenuating circumstances, you’ll concede.”      “You’re in no position to tell me what I shall or shall not concede.” Eris spoke with obvious irritation, but he was apparently growing less edgy. That must be the reason Aileen was here instead of Tamlin; as Eris’ relative—for how distant their kinship—she had better odds to get him listening. Besides, Tamlin already got his hands full with the panic surely taking over his Court right now.      “Of course.” Aileen lowered her head slightly in apology. “Name your price then, for you surely have one.”      “My dear, nothing you can offer will repair the damage I’ve suffered.”      “That’s a lie—and you know it. Just ask.”      Eris tightened his jaw at Lady Aileen’s knowing smile, and seemed to be taking her seriously now. He traced his steps back onto the dais and to his seat, settling himself with utter calmness. Arms resting at his sides, Eris focused his unrelenting and calculating gaze on the female. Suri could barely glimpse a reflection of the High Lord’s scheming thoughts in those amber eyes.      “Do you truly think that after all we’ve been through I still have to ask? If I were my father, your entire family would have been wiped out to get what was mine—what still is mine.” Eris spoke with cold words, though the flames dancing in his eyes didn’t reflect that blankness. “But I spared them, and asked nothing in return.”      “And I thank both the Mother and the Cauldron you’re not your father,” acknowledged Aileen. “But, my Lord, you know as well as I that you didn’t do it out of generosity—you didn’t harm them because Fianna would have never forgiven you.”      Eris shot out his tongue like a barb to make some cruel remark, but then changed his mind. A long pause ensued.      Lady Aileen eventually broke the silence and offered, “I’ll speak to Fianna. Release Keran now, and she’ll agree to a private audience with you. That’s all I can promise.”      Eris transfixed her with a sharp look and nodded in satisfaction.      “I guess now it’s our turn,” stepped in Kaden. “Lord Eris, Commander Cassian is willing to meet your requests to get his second back.”      The High Lord looked him over carefully, not at all impressed. Kaden held his stare without faltering and waited his reply. That was smart, not giving away how much they were ready to offer for Suri’s freedom; better seeing first what Eris’ inclinations were.      “The Brannenstein,” Eris articulated, savoring each syllable.      Suri closed her fists rattling the chains still bounding her wrists. Kaden went stiff next to her.      “I fear that one is not on the table,” the Illyrian replied.      “Then your Deputy Commander can rot away in my dungeons,” Eris gloated.      Ronin took a menacing step forward, the nasty scar running from his left ear down into the collar of his suit flashing out against the tanned skin of his neck. Kaden cast him a warning side glance willing him to a halt.      That bastard. Suri should have guessed Eris would not miss the chance to make demands on the stone. The Brannenstein was an ancient heirloom that had come to be emblem of power and strength. It had once belonged to the Autumn Court and to its High Lords, but it had been stolen from them by the Illyrians—that was one side of the story, at least; according to the Illyrian records, the Brannenstein had been won in a fair combat by an Illyrian war-lord, and treasured somewhere in the mountains of the north since then. Suri didn’t even know whether Cassian had it, or someone else did.      Kaden squinted his green-streaked brown eyes looking comprehensibly perplexed, but not entirely surprised by the request. Maybe Cassian had seen this coming and given him instructions on the matter.      “The Commander is not in possession of that item, at the moment. He’ll need a few days to retrieve it, but, if this is your only condition, you can have it.”      Eris’ teeth flashed in a smug grin. “Giving in already? I expected much of a negotiation. That stone has been property of your kind for centuries, I thought your Commander would hardly cede it.”      “He reckons it a fair price to pay for his second,” Kaden declared. “Naturally, he expects you to trust him on his word and to release Suri immediately.”      The High Lord snorted. “Naturally. But before that, I have another request.” Eris turned his cunning and cruel gaze directly on Suri. “I ask something else of you, as personal payment and proof of your atonement.”      He made an operatic pause before declaring, “I want you to bring me a Suriel.”      Suri went still, feeling her blood turn ice inside her veins.      That fucking bastard.      She barely registered Ronin and Kaden’s edgy glances, her body instinctively assuming a fighting stance as her mind molded the cold anger and loathing burning through her into a sharp blade of murderous determination.      “I wouldn’t do it if I were you,” Eris challenged her. “Another infraction would cost your father greatly. You know he’d give anything for his daughter, wouldn’t he?”      Blood trickled on the marble floor as her nails dug in the skin of her palms, but Suri didn’t notice the red beads staining the pavement, nor the light drip drip that was now the only audible sound filling the still air of the room.      “A Suriel.” Her voice sounded like an outlandish rasp to her own ears.      “Precisely.”      Suri walked toward the throne under the stunned gazes of those around her. Eris’ eyes betrayed a subtle fear as she extended her bloodied hand to him. After some tense seconds, he reached out and grasped it.      “It’s a bargain,” he said barely hiding the quiver in his voice.      “It’s a bargain,” repeated Suri.      Right after the words were pronounced, matching tattoos appeared on their left wrists, sealing the pact. They looked like black circles resembling wristbands—or handcuffs.      Once the guards freed both she and Keran, Suri released her wings and took off, flying out in the morning sun with a cry that shuddered the forest to its core.

     Suri met the others later, outside the Forest House—at a safe distance from Eris. The flight had cleared her mind and soothed her, but she was far from being subdued. When she landed, Suri noticed the drawn face of Keran as he argued with Lady Aileen.      “Mother, you didn’t have to—”      “Don’t worry Keran, it’s for the best. Your aunt refused the bond out of respect toward me, but now I can give her a pretext to give up her honor and finally be with the male she wants. Fianna is stubborn, but she’ll do it if she believes it’s to help you and to avoid retaliation.”      Suri vaguely knew the story; it had occurred before she was even born. Aileen had been engaged to Eris, but after meeting her younger sister, Fianna, he had called everything off because the mating bond had snapped into place. Fianna had refused to accept the bond, though, even after Aileen had married Tamlin. It seemed the water under the bridge hadn’t been enough still, for either Eris or Fianna.      For how much she wanted to stay with Keran, Suri couldn’t bear the name of Eris right now, or anything related to him. She walked into the near cluster of trees instead, where Kaden and Ronin awaited her.      “We got out pretty smoothly, didn’t we?” Kaden joked grimly.      Suri snorted.      “What?”      “Nothing,” she said. “Only, you’re usually the sensible one. I thought being such a show-off was my prerogative.”      He ruffled clumsily his short chestnut hair. “Well, you weren’t with us, so I took on your part—only this once, don’t worry.”      Suri chuckled, surprising even herself at the lightness in that simple gesture.      Ronin joined her and gave her a jab. “Glad to see you again, boss.”      “I told you not to call me that!” Suri complained.      “I know, boss.” Ronin tossed his long braid backward and leaned in to pat Kaden on the shoulder. “Seriously, this one almost freaked out when your uncle Azriel sent his spies to the camp to warn the Commander of your incident.”      Kaden muttered something incomprehensible and pushed the other Illyrian still mimicking his upset expression.      Suri smiled at the two warriors bickering like children. They looked a curious pair: one tall and dark-haired with a bashful air about him; the other a sturdy brawler with white-blonde hair, arranged in a complex pattern on the top which left the shaven sides of his head exposed, and clear blue eyes revealing his Vallhanian origins.      She couldn’t have asked for better friends, though.      “Ok, ok, I got it. You missed me. Thank you, by the way—you saved me.”      “Always,” replied Kaden with a smile.      “Don’t rush it,” cut in Ronin. “We’re not finished yet.”      “What does that mean, now?” asked Suri confused.      Kaden sighed in reply.      Ronin explained, “There have been troubles back at the camp. You need to come immediately, before things get really messed-up.”      “Is that what I think?” Suri felt a grip in her stomach.      “If you’re thinking of outright rebellion—then yes.”      Suri cursed.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Tags: @the-bookish-soul @the-book-court @nestasbucket @tntwme @tacmc @feyre-therabeaux @nervousllamasalad @alittlepieceof @highladyjel @acourtoffuckmylifeup @anuppityfangirl @tessywessy22 @unicornbooks @cerridwxn @awkwardfan563 @fanfic-masterpost-site @eternally-reading @illyrianbastards @urbisie @fandoms-everywhere-united @illyrian-lovers

[ruleandruinrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, MINTY!

You have been accepted for the role of DMITRI ALEKSEEV. Admin Rosey: This was honestly the most difficult app decision I have made to this date. I read both applications over four times, comparing them point by point, sample by sample. I cannot emphasize how incredibly beautiful both applications were -- their prose was unparalleled, their potential even more so. My heart literally stopped, my breath was whisked away each time I read them over because it was as if I was reading them anew all over again. But Minty, I ultimately had to go with yours. You did so much in such a short amount of time. There were certain parts of your application where I felt my stomach tighten because even the prospect of Dmitri made me so nervous, so unsure. There was this certain frankness in the way that you wrote him that made him so unapologetic. Thank you for this wonderful application and welcome to the Rule and Ruin family! You have 24 HOURS to send in your account. Also, remember to look at the CHECKLIST. Welcome to Ravka!

OUT OF CHARACTER

ALIAS:  hi, friends! i go by mint. or minty. or min min. or ho where’s my reply so really the world is your oyster

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: that / it when i’m feeling deplorable but she/her most days.

AGE: 23

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: pst and i work from home so from a scale of 10 to 10. i’d say a 10?

but i have friends (surprisingly!). and my mom can’t drive so she forces me out to buy crabs to murder from 99 ranch market. so some days i might be gone girl.

TRIGGERS: OMITTED

CURRENT/PAST ACCOUNTS: let my writing here speak for itself please! otherwise known as i haven’t been in a tumblr rp for over a year and my old accounts are uggo.

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER: Dmitri Matwei Alekseev

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?

Several traits drew me to him.

I. темнота (darkness)

When I read his bio I went, “Oh!” Then I continued along reading the other bios but none of them drew that same sort of “oh” from me. The admins of this group  sure don’t shy from character flaws which promises a really interesting game. Dmitri is a dark character. Not the darkest, of course, with a character in-game literally called The Darkling. But he’s up there. A lot of what keeps a social construct together is basic respect for other human beings and respect for the law. Dmitri makes a mockery of all this. That social decency that keeps everyone nicely lined up fails in constraining him. His edges rip them apart, and he ends up cutting into anyone close to him. Out of the cast in-game, he only respects The Darkling, and all everyone else gets is a front of politeness which quickly falls apart when he opens his mouth and bleeds with his words. Even princes are beneath him, because he considers weakening their resolve a show of weakness. Dmitri only answers to one man, because the lives of everyone else are worth much less than his. To him, everyone else is there for his amusement. They’re a game to him, and so he tries to move them around with touches, words, or threats as he sees fit.

II. амбиция (ambition)

I love driven characters like Dmitri. It’s not a trait I myself have. but it’s easy to admire strengths in others that you lack. Dmitri is cocksure and arrogant. Who can fault him for it when he ‘s capable of delivering? He could have sat spoiled in his parent’s home, but Dmitri chose to travel to Os Alta and cross the Unsea, just to make a name for himself. He wants to be–no. Will be the most notable Heartrender of his generation, He’ll do anything to ensure his notoriety spills over to the next generation. His name will be in history books. But unfortunately, his ambition blinded him, and he took his position at the Darkling’s side for granted. Now that he’s fallen out of favor, he’s still reeling from the lack of attention and he’s hungry to get it back. So he’s driven even more to outshine Altan and to prove his skill on every battlefield the Darkling sends him to, whether it’s a war or a bedroom. This passion to dominate has totally enamored me to him. He’ll crush a hundred hearts if it will get The Darkling to stop from turning away.

IV. очарование (charm)

tw sex mention

The guy’s a snake. But he’s smooth about it. It’s his face that hooks them in first. He’s got this way about him when he focuses on you, like you’re the only one in the room. After all, he doesn’t waste his time. He only approaches the ones that are worth his while. So when he closes in, you know you’re special. If anyone tries to draw him away from you, he’ll shake them off. It’s a sort of intensity that would be almost uncomfortable if he didn’t soften it with a curve of lips and the way he asks permission. “May I?” To stand by your side. “May I?” To slide his hand down your back and gripping your hips, pulling you into a dance. “May I?” To feed you sweets, his fingers coming away wet from your mouth.

But he only feigns politeness at first. The closer he gets to you, the more rotten his words. “You’re blushing. And I haven’t even touched you. How virginal.” As he corners you in empty hallways. “Would you like me to?” Teasing. Only to pull away and abandon you while wiping his fingers on his kefta. He isn’t above toying with your heart. figuratively and literally. If decadence could be harsh and edged? That would be Dmitri. I’m smitten with him because of it.

WHAT FUTURE PLOT IDEAS DID YOU HAVE IN MIND?

один - He will prove himself as worthy to be the Darkling’s left hand, of that he has no doubt. But it will be easier to earn if Altan’s reputation is cracked. It will be no easy feat. Altan stands solid and unshakable, and his reputation is one of dominating fear. However, Dmitri had crossed the Unsea and had only found euphoria. He doesn’t fear darkness or death because he himself is ruination. Finding a chip in Altan’s armor will be a challenge, as will sinking his nails in and digging until it gapes open enough for weakness to spill out. But he’s patient. He will throw test after test of Altan’s abilities, set challenges Altan’s way until the Shu eventually stumbles. Then it will be Dmitri who steps up to fill in the space to cover up Altan’s failure. Then the Darkling will have to finally hold out his left hand for him to take. Dmitri will accept it as his due.

два - Anton doesn’t deserve the throne. What Dmitri and Viktor share isn’t love, but even the Heartrender can see that the younger prince is the more worthy. Anton is a fox–wily and quick. But Viktor is the wolf–savage and strong, demanding his lessers to heel and grinding his enemies between his sharp teeth. What they share isn’t love, but Dmitri has nothing to gain from Anton, and there’s a glimmer of potential from Viktor. So he will offer a hand, if Viktor wishes it, in seizing the throne. Bastard is what they whisper in the dark, and if it’s sentimentality towards the family that’s holding Viktor back, Dmitri doesn’t mind being the one to slowly open the Pandora’s box of secrets the Lantsov family hides. It’s all well and good to fuck a prince. But imagine burying his face between the legs of a king.

три - Dmitri has no interest in thrones. What he wants it to be backed by the power behind it. It’s why he endears himself to both the Darkling and Viktor, the former ruling the Grisha and the latter having a hand in Ravkan politics. He wants to be free to play his hand with pretty chaos, wants to seize and stop hearts, steal the air from their lungs, and still crowds with fear from a single look. He mocks Iskra for trailing at the heels of a human. But I can see them having a bit more in common than they both think. I want him (if the Viktor player is willing) to grow more twisted and tangled with his relationship with Viktor. To reap the benefits of it, and despite himself, have thin threads of sentimentality, only for Iskra to notice and call him out for being a hypocrite. This will cause him to yank violently away from Viktor for a time. Their relationship might degrade into volatile sparks until, of course, they catch fire and explode in either violence or passion. Perhaps both.

On this note, I want to figure out why Dmitri has been slipping out of favor. Is it due to the Darkling being privy to Dmitri being in bed with a Lantsov? Or is the Darkling trying to see how far Dmitri will go to earn his approval? If it’s the former, Dmitri will abandon Viktor, but I doubt he’ll be able to stop himself from his usual flirtations with the prince, even if he refuses to follow through. If it’s the latter, I would like Dmitri to step further away from being human and closer to being a monster by committing terrible crimes for the approval of the Darkling.

WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO HAVE YOUR CHARACTER DIE?: Oh my god. It’s that kinda game, huh. Bye!

I mean sure if you really, really want him to be dead.

IN DEPTH

IN CHARACTER PARA SAMPLE(S):

  один .     tw torture     The Fjerdan bows his head. The bones of his fingers are broken, and blood drips from his bottom lip and trickles from both ears. His tears, too, are red streaks down his chiseled face. When he breaths there is a rattling sound, like coins caught in his rib cage.     Already so broken and Dmitri’s just warming up.     “Is it my accent? Years in Ravka and I can’t seem to strip the Kerch from my tongue.” He raises his right arm, feels for the Fjerdan’s liver with tendrils of his power, and snaps his hand closed into a hard fist. The spy throws his head back with his mouth gaping open, empty of sound, a keening exhale of pain. Dmitri knows which organs cause pain, and which organs kill. He’s had plenty of practice.     “Listen closely.” He paces around the chair the Fjerdan is strapped to, stops behind him and brings his face down to whisper in that bleeding ear. “How many of you escaped with knowledge of the Sun Summoner? I need to make sure I killed all of them.” Words in Fjerdan, barely discernible, and the man spits on the floor. ”So you won’t make this easy.” Dmitri runs his fingers through the Fjerdan’s hair, grips the strands and pulls the man’s head back. “Good.”     два .     It’s easy to find iskra in a crowd. Not because of the prominence of Anton. He always finds her in spite of that, even when the prince is gone.     When he was a boy, he’d let loose his pet raven on his parent’s aviary to test it’s obedience. It perched on a faux maple tree and eyed the smaller finches and doves with a haughty sort of hunger. They clustered as far away from the black bird as they could, as if they understood that the raven was behaving for Dmitri’s benefit, but at any moment that control could snap and they’d be torn apart by that sharp, curved beak.     That is why he always finds Iskra in a crowd. She surrounds herself with soft, weak humans while she herself is a hawk. She doesn’t fit. She never will. Always the outsider even as she perches on their branches, the other birds scattering away.     He calls to her. “Iskra.” The name falls with heavy intimacy that he knows irritates her. “You have something right here.” He points to her throat. “Is it tight? Anton’s leash? If you wanted to be collared I would have accommodated you.”    He stands too close, speaks too intimately, and he repeats, “Iskra.” When she finally looks up, he holds her gaze. He won’t be the one to look away first.     три .     tw sex     He places his palm flat on Viktor’s chest. Some hearts beat rapid and weak, like moth wings. Others quickly like a rabbit’s when he touches them. Out of anyone he’s ever stripped down and spread, Viktor’s beat the most solid and strong, a fighter’s heart, as if he considered even this intimacy a war.     “Your majesty.” He purrs, kissing the inside of Viktor’s calves. “My prince.” His mouth slides soft, up Viktor’s knees, stopping to sink his teeth in those muscled thighs. He wants to bruise and leave that part tender, so when Viktor’s walks down the halls he’ll feel it, stabs of pain to remember him by.     So tempting, to make it quick and take Viktor into his mouth. But he moves higher, his chest pressing Viktor’s legs apart and he kisses the ridges of that hard abdomen. He whispers, “My king.” Laying bare the prince’s ambition in private. He feeds that hunger for blood right on purpose, because Viktor’s appetite thrills him. Dmitri may lay with lambs. He may lay with beasts. But it’s this prince with his teeth bared and jaws snapping for the throne that is his favorite. Without a doubt the most fascinating. Anton will kiss and serve his diplomacy with a sprinkling of sugar, but it’s Viktor who will hold his knife-tongue to their throats and threaten to cut.     Like the Darkling, that pursuit of power is what tethers Dmitri to Viktor’s side. Dominance always, crushing the weak. A world at war is cruel and Dmitri thrives in the company of those who will survive it.     He promises, “If you ask nicely, I’ll lay bodies at your feet. I’ll kiss you while I do it. So you can feel it on your mouth when I kill. I get cold, and I get very, yery hard.” He strokes Viktor then, between the legs to make his point. “Just say it. Command me, Viktor. We’ve already fucked each other raw. There’s no need to be shy.”

CHARACTER HEADCANONS:

- While others dread trips through the Unsea, Dmitri relishes it. Aside from the front lines against the Fjerdans and Shu Hans, nowhere else can he lash out with his power without tethers. Once they escape the darkness there’s a visible thrill on his face and he proudly shares the amount of volcra hearts he’s stopped. The Unsea is proof of the power of Grisha. How one of them can bring an entire nation to it’s knees, a slow bleeding death of resources as Ravka is cut off from the coast. It inspires Dmitri to be the same–a name feared for his power. Should the Darkling’s true history ever come to light in the game Dmitri’s loyalty won’t waver.

- He is fond of interrogating. If spies are caught, Dmitri always volunteers to drag the truth out of them. Sensitive to the palpitations of a lie, he mercilessly tortures and picks apart his prey until they beg to confess, for it to end, for their bones to stop cracking and to stop drowning on the blood in their lungs. Either they confess, or they die slow. Either way there’s no chance they’re leaving that small cell alive.

- He has a very mixed reputation among the Grisha. Either you love him or you hate him, but rarely are any of them ambivalent towards him. Dmitri either focuses on you like a hawk, or he doesn’t care to waste his time on you at all. The latter is your best bet. If it’s the former, his attention is either savagely sweet, or a slow and lingering cruelty that takes it time picking you apart.

EXTRAS: none i just found this group five hours ago i’m so sorry

ANYTHING ELSE? OMITTED

[thiscomickills]

CHAPTER 1 She squirms in the chair, trying to loosen the ropes, tears streaming down her terrified face. I just laugh. “I was a Boy Scout, babe. You’re in a Siberian Hitch-Transom Knot combo.” I turn on my best German accent. “Your resistance is futile.” She sobs harder. “You’re right. The German thing was hacky.” “Are you gonna rape me?” She gasps for a phlegmy breath. “What? Don’t flatter yourself, sweetie. Rape you? Sheesh. You see all this plastic all over the place? You think I cum that much? You’ve never watched Dexter? Rape you. Pfft. Hell no. I’m going to kill you.” I stretch, tear and fix some duct tape over her mouth before she can scream. Fuck. I’m low on duct tape again. “What’s your name again?” I fish her wallet out from her purse. “McKenzie. Of course it is. Fucking Millennial.” I grab the garden shears and squeeze the handles a couple of times for effect. You just can’t beat that metal-on-metal sound.  If you have just the right amount of torque on the springs, you can conjure the sound a sword makes when it’s slowly pulled from its sheath. That metallic ring. Now I can’t get the Game of Thrones theme out of my head. #ADD. She moans through her duct-taped mouth, her curly brown hair matted to her face with tears and sweat. “Now, you know I don’t want to do this. But, I have to. I told you to be good. But you weren’t, were you? I mean, look at this! See?“ I lift my sleeve and show her the claw marks she gave me when the back of her head smacked off the bathroom sink (I may have been holding her throat at the time). “I can’t have the cops find my DNA under your pretty nails, sweetie. And, I’m a comedian - not a surgeon. What that means is I don’t have the skill-set to remove just the nails, so I’m gonna have to take off your fingers.” She convulses, letting out a muted, duct-tape softened screech. I grab her index finger between the blades. “I mean, I could do this after you’re dead, but where’s the fun in that? Now then…Where is pointy, where is pointy?” SNIP! Her finger, once so adept at pointing, comes off cleanly in my gloved hand, spurting blood everywhere. “Here I am! Here I am!” I dance the finger about in front of her scarlet, glassy eyes. She is so fucking loud even with the duct tape. I never get that. It’s like scream-humming. I turn up the music on the motel’s cheap alarm clock.  MakeDamnSure by Taking Back Sunday. Nice. I was seriously thinking about some GOT pay-per-view when I got back to my hotel, but these tunes have my head back in the game. I hold her bloody finger in front of my pursed lips. “Shhh! Hahaha! Come on, McKenzie! I don’t usually do prop comedy, so consider yourself lucky. I mean, I can’t have you ‘finger’ me for this!” She hangs her head in defeat. I hate it when they don’t go down swinging. I almost feel bad for them. Takes the fun right the fuck out of it. McKenzie. This girl’s a joy vampire. Maybe a proper mind fuck will make it interesting again. “Do you want to know why you’re here?” She nods weakly, possibly thinking I’m some storybook villain, stalling with a sad tale that might elongate her life. I’m not. I’m a comedian. All about the short game here. “You sat in the front row of my show. You didn’t laugh once. You fucking Facebooked and Tindered the entire fucking time because the Comedy Caravan in backward-ass Louisville doesn’t take peoples’ damned phones, so some of this is on them, but do you know what that does to me? It makes me insecure. I’m giving myself to you. You’re a fucking stranger. I’m trying to relate. I’m trying to make you happy! To make you laugh! To connect, to reveal some human truths in a funny way, and you’re swiping left, with that little manicured index finger of yours, on pictures of douchebags like you’re some beauty queen who can judge people in a second. Fuck you! Oh,” – as if just noticing her index finger in my hand – “and fuck your little finger too! And on top of that, you sat so close to my stage, I was able to see you left less than a ten percent tip for your server, and that makes you a cunt, and cunts gotta go! Do you understand?” Her whole body trembles. I pretend to feel bad.  Have to keep the acting chops fresh. One can never really give up on that Hollywood career. “Hey, hey…c’mon. Don’t do that,” I say in my softest sympathetic tough guy voice – channeling some daytime soap I must have squirrelled away in my brain at some point. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I, I am. Look, do you feel like you maybe learned a valuable lesson today?” She raises her head, her eyes hopeful. Nods slowly. “If I let you go, do you promise you won’t say anything?” She nods like she’s got epilepsy. “Swear?” She’s a bobble head. “Okay. After all, you did agree to get a drink with me after the show. Fine. I’ll cut you loose. Let me get my scissors.” I look around; make a spectacle of myself (my specialty, if you must know). Lift up the alarm clock. Hmm. Not there. Check my pockets. Take off my left shoe, not in there either. Inside this bible? Zilch. She just hangs her head again, finally realizing that I was fucking with her. “Oh, but…look what I found.” A Louisville Slugger I stashed under the bed. “Not much to do in Ken-fucking-tucky. So, I toured the ol’ bat factory today. It was that or a bourbon tasting, and I had to keep my shit together for the show tonight. Just think. You’ll be one of my Greatest Hits.” I get into my stance. “Here’s the pitch!” I bring it around with everything I’ve got. The wood connects with her temple, and the fat part of that sturdy, all-American bat breaks off a good, satisfying, chunk of skull. “Foul ball!” In My Defense: I haven’t always been a killer. Obviously. I mean, at one point, I was shitting in my diaper, so wielding knives wasn’t exactly a thing I could do. That’s like saying “I don’t know how we lost, the game was so close at one point”. Of course it was, you idiot. Games start out at zero for both teams. Hang on, I need my notebook… Joke about how sports fans say they don’t get it when they lost cause it was so close at one point. Also, get more duct tape. Where was I? Oh yeah. Killing. Just saying it gets me all worked up. It’s like when you see a hot girl laying by the pool at your apartment complex and you have to go watch porn and wax the dolphin so you can focus. Anyway, I don’t think I’m a bad person. I don’t. I’m not. There’s just a monster inside me. And he’s the bad one. Mr. Hyde, my alter ego, my Id, Night Me, Murder Voltron, whatever he/it is, it’s there. I don’t know why, or how it got there, running the front office, but it’s alive and well, and I’ve just about given up trying to keep it down. Yeah, I’m part monster, but I’m also part human, so I have to rationalize all parts of me. I’ve thought about why I am this way. First off, I suffered a preponderance of head injuries at the hands of my older brother when I was a kid who unwisely demanded the top bunk. He’d start laughing at something, I’d hang my head down from the top to see what had him in stitches, he’d grab me by the scruff of my neck, yank me over the edge and I’d land on my head. I was such a sucker. I fell for it every time. Me crying in the kitchen in my PJ’s with an icepack on my forehead was a common sight. Knowing what we know with these suicidal NFL players, my self-diagnosis is that it must have knocked something (or possibly everything) loose. Second, I’m based out of L.A. Everyone there pretends everything’s going great. They always have some project, on the verge of “making it”, but if you ask me, they’re all self-made orphans chasing an impossible dream, leapfrogging from one lily pad of a project to the next, and just one SIG alert away from homicide themselves. But I think the biggest thing that shaped me was the decade I spent in the service industry before I finally started paying the bills with jokes. The service industry does a lot of damage to a person. Outwardly, it makes you subservient: opening doors, serving plates, clearing plates, taking orders, custom tailoring those orders, fulfilling needs, wants, letting people cut in front of you, being patient, smiling, cleaning puke, sending food back cause it wasn’t warm enough, enduring insults, pretending you don’t hear them talking about you and how short you are and you tell yourself that you’re not a duck in a shooting gallery, listening to them chew, and breathe and gulp and belch and pretending you like them; just basically getting psychically butt-fucked by these garbage human consumer strangers because they might give you a tip for eight plus hours a day, five nights a week. To this day, if a guy is washing his hands next to me I’ll hurry to dry my hands first so I can get some paper towels into his wet hands. That is real shit. I hate myself for it. I have conditioned myself to “be in service to”. To be second. To not Receive. That’s what happens to you on the outside. Fuck, I can taste the bile rising right now. I should really try that Kabbalah shit. But the red string. People would know… Inwardly, the industry makes you hate people. Restaurant workers; they’re not the only ones. Anyone dealing with the public in large enough quantities will eventually hate people if they have a brain in their heads. Why do you think cops rough people up, or flat out shoot them? Nurses and doctors abuse their patients? It’s no mystery. The general public sucks out loud. They come in and buy shit. They demand shit- unhappy with this/that; they make you dance like an organ grinder’s monkey. They’re not at work. They’re leisurely drinking. They have better clothes than you. You hear about their job, their vacation in Hawaii, how they’re closing on the second home, can they have some water, you hear the dumb shit guys say to hot girls, and even though it’s so mundane, you watch them leave together, and you’re stuck behind this literal and metaphorical bar, waiting till these people you’ve turned into retarded infants stumble home so you can clean up after all of them, count what little money they deemed you worthy of and go home yourself. All the while knowing some Neanderthal bro bore is balls-deep in some sugar walled beef sleeve. You find yourself secretly wishing you pass a drunk-driving accident on the way home that you hopefully contributed to, so there’s a few less of them. A culling of the cheap zombie-minded assholes who haunt your sleep. I never know if I’m making myself clear. Let me make sure. They are fucking awful gross rude meat skeletons stumbling around naked under their brand names trying to fuck and be fucked, but need to be drunk in order to connect and leave a swath of social destruction in their paths in the process. So, yeah, a decade builds up. I went from being a party-going extrovert to a self-isolating Hobbit (yes, that’s a short joke) forever cursed to quietly traffic in this jaded human taxonomy. I could only tolerate relating to people with the protection of some sort of barrier. First a bar. Now a stage. And I think the last thing you should know about me is that I try to only kill people who really should be killed. I really do. There’s a lot of two-legged colostomy bags out there, and I think the fact that society believes that we’re all supposed to tolerate them is a bigger crime than me taking out the proverbial trash. End of Disclaimer. I’m now buck-naked and rock hard as I wind butcher paper around her plastic-wrapped arms, and pack them into my empty suitcases. The layers of plastic and paper keep the Samsonites from leaking - and they look like cuts from the butcher shop in the X-Ray as long as you cut off at the joints, then in between the limbs. Sectioning each arm and leg into four wings and drumsticks suffices, and you have to split the hands and feet at least in half the long way. If you have the time, cleaving them into three is ideal. You never know if there’s a former hall monitor who’s still a virgin watching those screens. Oh, and I personally like to treat myself after a kill. After all that labor-intensive bone sawing, I save the breasts and ass for the end. It find it super enjoyable to carve ‘steaks’ out of those. I like to play around with them; try to really mimic the cuts I see at the grocery store. Obviously, I start with top rounds, move to sirloin, then to filets, rib eyes and I’m currently perfecting my New York Strip. It’s weird, because I’ve never considered myself artistic. Before I discovered an aptitude for carving human flesh into imitation beef steaks, I’d only really experimented with creating temporary art in a way only I could personally appreciate. I mean that literally. I started doing it when I was young, and I’m a little ashamed to admit I continue to do it to this day. Whenever a man urinates, it creates bubbles in the toilet water, and conversely, that stream in turn bursts those bubbles. I discovered if I whipped my bubble making pee shooter to and fro fast enough, I could use the shitter’s round shape as a globe and form my piss bubbles to create a bubbly map of North and South America. As I got better, I was able to use the rest of my pee stream to cut across the Atlantic and get going on the Iberian Peninsula. As my geographical knowledge and alcohol abuse escalated, I tackled Africa and the Sub Asian region. And, I’ll be even more honest. Once I learned men could do Kegels, I created a regimen and set upon my still-unrealized goal of mastering Southeast Asia. Between natural disasters, political power dynamics and the sheer urethral discipline it requires, I wonder if this endeavor is a folly of my yawning stupidity, or my personal Golden Fleece (intended) I will someday attain. I honestly don’t know. Once you break the seal and let the pee stream out, it’s so hard to squeeze it off to dot the toilet water’s ocean with a Sri Lanka. I do have self-awareness. I fully admit it’s a juvenile, yet fluid art form. Crickets, huh? Sometimes jokes are a numbers game. And there goes the shin. This girl got her calcium for sure. I always travel with empty luggage. Obviously, the Monster needs the space. No, I don’t keep the meaty bones as trophies. I’m not that sick. We’ll get there, just give me a minute. It comes down to the ‘evidence problem’. It’s an easy fix since I’m pretty basic with my fashion choices. The shitty towns we perform in usually have bargain basement stores and Wal-Marts, and it’s just safer to buy twenty dollar jeans and eight dollar shirts that I’m going to throw away anyway after the Monster has his way with me.  If fashion choices dictate fate, it really explains why I’m here. I give the room a quick sweep with a black light on luminol to see if I missed anything.  How do I have luminol? It’s amazing what you can get from drunken LA cops when you tell them you’re a writer working on a crime movie and offer them the promise of a consulting credit and fee when principal photography commences. Her head fucking spurted all over the ceiling. Thank God I lined that with sheeting. I fucking despise this part. The cleaning. Serial Killers get caught cause they’re sloppy, or if they don’t mix it up. You gotta keep it fresh. The MO, the victimology. It’s just like comedy. Look at Ron White. It’s the same set. Every time. “I got thrown out of a bar…” You gotta come up with new material to stay ahead of the game. We’ve all said it when it comes to dating: “So and so’s not my type.” It only proves that people do have a type, and because of that, serial killing and dating have a lot in common. Have you seen Reggie Bush’s girlfriends since Kim Kardashian? Three Words. Single Armenian Female. Scary, right?  The Yorkshire Ripper: always sex workers, always a hammer, knife and screwdriver. John Bunting: gays or pedophiles, always beating, toe crushing and strangulation. Herb Baumeister: gays and drowning. Ted Bundy: bludgeoning, strangling and necrophilia, and he went for cute girls. That one friend you have who only dates Asian chicks. Actually, once, I dated an Asian chick. We’d have sex but I’d be horny twenty minutes later. Hey Now! I could go on, but you get the point. They look for patterns. The key is to not have one. This is why I don’t worry. I’m pretty sure the FBI doesn’t have a profile for a murderer of the “People Who Fucking Suck” demographic. And, I’m not “the Husband” or the “Ex” or the “Co-Worker”.  I’m not “The Quiet Guy Next Door”. I’m a comic who performs on stage. In different cities. Good Christ, I open for Riley Rock, who, if it weren’t for a few movie and TV credits and his own short-lived TV show forever ago he’d be just as invisible as me. Riley Rock is the guy you see at the club and think, “Hey, isn’t that the guy from that show where he works with the dad sometimes?” Fuck him. Wait, where was I? Oh yeah. Cleaning. I wish I was the “Neat Monster” Dexter was, but that’s a work of fiction. I’m way too lazy. My apartment looks like a 10 year old with a job lives there. I have that crippling brand of OCD where everything’s a mess and I have trouble venturing outside. So, I prepare up front. Plastic, plastic, plastic! I can’t stress it enough. Saves so much time at the end. You just saw, wrap and go. This would be the greatest infomercial ever. Saw, Wrap and Go with the new…nah, that’s a shit premise. I work the saw rhythmically above the left knee. Fuck this bitch has some quads. Must be one of those cross-fit cunts. One more reason to have offed her.  My ass crack is sweaty. Keep on a-workin’. Eff you, I’m in the South. Lemme indulge.