#LET THE HATRED COMMENCE

[beyondthegame]

DEMO (coming soon...)

The referee brings the whistle to their lips, ready to kick off the game…

There’s no easy road to becoming an athlete. You of all people will know that. Now you’ve finally got your chance. From playing football in a muddy park during a rainy afternoon to signing the professional contract you’ve been dreaming of — the road to stardom is here. You can imagine it all now: being an athlete that jets across the world, having fans that wear your name on the back of their shirts; gaining sponsors and money, and… fame.

You’ve put pen to paper in London and now the ink has dried. It's official. You are an Inter City FC player. You’re starting your career as a professional footballer with a club that has objectives of their own. Winning the league. To the new club you’ve signed for, you’re the missing puzzle piece to their success. 

But, the beautiful game is more than just a mere ball at your feet. It’s more than just your manager and teammates. It’s the media, the opposition, the rivals and everything in between.

There isn’t anything you want more than this. To make a name for yourself on and off the pitch. To press your lips to the shiny trophies you’ve worked so hard for. To hear fans chanting your name in the crowd. To have a club that feels like a family.

Nothing can get in the way, that’s been your motto since you first started playing. Surely the beautiful game won’t ruin you when you’ve given so much to it. 

You just wonder whether it’ll be worthwhile.

Let the match commence…

This is an 18+ game due to explicit language, sexual themes, mention of sexual themes, mental health issues and more.

Customise and play as a male, female or non-binary; straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, graysexual, demisexual, asexual, footballer w/ the choice of your own pronouns.

Choose your footballer’s position: goalkeeper, defender, midfielder, or striker.

Pick your footballer’s public persona. Will the media adore you? Or will you keep them on their toes? Will they love or loathe you?

Did you make it due to hard-work or sheer talent?

Manager your social media presence.

Decide your footballer’s playing style and strengths: a player with flair? Or a no nonsense baller with physicality?

Play as a person of colour (this choice can have an effect on the story). Your gender can also have an effect in game. 

Travel the world with your football club that will become a family.

Romance any of the five romantic options; four of which are gender-selectable; male, female and non-binary. The ROs are: the rival, the teammate, the best friend, the idol and the heir — these romances will get the rumours starting…

Develop meaningful friendships, relationship… or even hook-ups.

Take the sporting world by storm. Do you play football for the fame? Or for your love of the game?

THE RIVAL

It didn’t start off as a rivalry. But you and Nikita/Navarro/Nevada Tallon weren’t the best of friends either. The two of you started at the same football academy, and whilst you were signed for an extra year, they were rejected. That was their first loss. For a while, they lost their dream. Forever: they lost you. Now it’s different. They’re all grown up and they’ve found a football team to call their own — A.C. United — the football team that happens to be the rival to yours. Football is full of history, it’s full of emotion too — and you and N have plenty of that to give, both on and off the pitch. Their one goal is to win. The two of you are, once again, fighting for the same crown. To be the best footballer in the city. Maybe even the world.

Maybe things will be different this time around between you two. The stone-cold glares and the snide remarks could dissolve into something else. Into something real and something beyond hatred.

THE TEAMMATE

You’re the newcomer. You’re waltzing into a team that’s somewhat established already, so having a teammate like Léa/Lando/Lakelyn Santos (their gender matches your mc's) to ease you in is always welcome. They’re the captain of Inter City and they’re a bit of a media darling. Graceful on the pitch, and even more graceful to the press. They’re confident, assured, calm and collected. But, beneath all that lies something else. It’s been a while since someone’s seen the real them. They were burned in the past, all because of a well documented break-up that took a lot out of them. Since then, L has been sworn off of falling for another athlete again, and they're keeping everyone at an arm's length. Beyond football, it’s not easy to get close to them.

But if you did, what a powerful couple that would grace the footballing world.

THE BEST FRIEND 

You know how hard it is to be an athlete. Milan St. Clair knows it too. Since becoming best friends in your twenties, you know you’ve both had the same goal. Whilst they are trying to conquer the tennis world and you’re making it in football, they’re the one constant that remains. The one who is familiar and comforting. Maybe the two of you could’ve been something more, or maybe your passionate personalities for your sports just got in the way. Milan’s rising through the tennis ranks now, they’re becoming more known. Their game continues to improve more than anyone ever expected. They have Grand Slams in their sights.

But you are right in front of them. You could both cross that line, take that next step and become more than friends…

THE IDOL

Cypress de Vera, known for their precise and thunderous tackles — Cypress is footballing royalty. Their potential was high, their talent was even higher — they’ve set records for the ages. But, their career came to an abrupt end after tragedy. Despite all that, football is still their life, they live and breathe the sport. They are always going to be idolised. You idolise them and so does the press. The media still want to know what the great Cy de Vera is going to do next — and now they’re at Inter City. Back at the club that gave them everything, to steer them to success, only this time it won’t be as a player.

Stern and hard to impress, Cypress de Vera only has a championship title on their mind. But sometimes you need to lose focus, let your guards down and just feel something more than a ball on the tip of your toes.

THE HEIR

Estelle/Evren/Everest Acevedo. They’ve been involved in football all their life, but not in the same way you have. Their father is your new manager. E has riches, fame, and a powerful last name — but take it from them, it’s not all its cracked up to be. They’re in a world that’s entirely their own, they model, sing and now their passion has shifted to wanting to write a bestselling novel. Their life has been a whirlwind, and honestly, if the world came with an off switch they’d hit it immediately. But they like to have their fun: their sharp tongue, constant media presence, and attraction to chaos means they ignore their father’s footballing legacy and will continue to make a name for themselves. E has been branded as trouble and it's a current name they quite like.

There’s more to E than meets the eye, and they’re desperate for someone to see it. Give them a chance, peel back the confident persona. You’ll be pleasantly surprised…

[theboywithburninghands]

Okay. Executive decision. Posting the first chapter of my two-parter here, because I'm loaded with caffeine and I want you guys to see what I've been up to all week. Uh it's pure Funnybunny, so sorry if you wanted some Ragatha romance stuff... Uhhhhhh also like... it's a bit long? And character driven rather than romance driven. Hope you like it anyway! Oh and I'm linking the AO3 if you'd prefer that. T/W: Mild cartoon violence, self hatred, a sex joke

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55822147/chapters/141729268

Like Rhinestones, Falling From the Sky (Part 1)

he grounds of the Digital Circus had two states. Daytime and sunny, nighttime and clear. It was a constant that no one bothered to disturb. Caine could grant a lot of requests around the circus, but rarely in any way the asker might want. Ask for a few wildflowers to add some color on the grounds? Congratulations, now there was an entire field of flowers, flowers that smelled like cheap, nose-tickling perfume and grew so thick and snared that it was impossible to walk around outside. Ask for a cool, dim day because you wanted a nap? Hey presto, now the entire circus was engulfed in an impenetrable fog that made Silent Hill look like the Aouzou Strip. The performers all followed the same motto when it came to the weather:

If it’s already broken, don’t break it any more. 

Due to this motto being in place, it was a complete mystery as to why all the performers were shaken awake early one morning by a skull-rattling crash of thunder. 

Kinger was the first out of his room, bursting through his door with a melodramatic wail.

“They’ve finally arrived! The harvest has commenced! They want ALL of our garmonbozia!!!”

Zooble was out of their room next, screwing their head back on their torso and limping over to the eldest performer.

“Relax! Chill the f#%@ out, old timer, it’s just thunder.” they snapped, still not quite awake. 

As if on cue, another rapturous tremor of thunder tore through the air, Ragatha emerging from her room and staring worriedly at the ceiling before joining the group.

“Are you guys okay? That’s some crazy weather we’re-“

Ragatha let out an “eep!” as Kinger seized her by the front of the dress.

“Ragatha! We’re under attack! What’s Morse code for SOS?!”

Ragatha gently took hold of Kinger’s wrists and guided them off of her dress. She smiled and her voice took on a warm, fuzzy tone. 

“Hey… no one is attacking us, Kinger. It’s probably been ages since you’ve heard a thunderstorm, hasn’t it? There’s nothing to be afraid of.” she cooed.

“Unless that’s what they want you to think.” came a slippery voice from behind her. Jax leaned against the wall, one foot flat against it. He sported a tired but nonetheless smug grin. 

“Jax, quit it. Can’t you see he’s scared?” Ragatha chided, but Jax continued as if she hadn’t spoken, walking right up to Kinger. 

“Who knows, maybe they’re after your bug collection, Kinger, or- OW!”

Zooble silenced Jax with a single, well aimed punch to the cheek. 

“Can you shut up? It’s too early for your schoolyard bull#%&$.” Zooble drawled. 

Jax massaged his cheek and gave a petulant “Jeez…” under his breath. Pomni was out of her room next, stirred from sleep like the rest of them. Her black eyelids hung over her eyes like an eclipse, and she dragged her body over to the others as if it had weights tied to it. 

“Hey, morning, Sunshine!” Jax smirked, a hand still on the cheek Zooble punched.

“Go #%&$ yourself…” Pomni mumbled, staring off into the void. 

“YEESH, everyone is crabby this morning. I can’t even say hello withou-“

KRK-BOOOOOOOMMMM!

A peal of thunder like a boulder tumbling into a dump truck shook the air again, everyone instinctively covering their ears (or where their ears should have been.)

“Okay, we should see what’s going on! Maybe it’s part of a new adventure..?” Ragatha proposed as soon as the rumbling subsided. 

“Wait! Where’s Gangle?!” Kinger cried.

There was a soft click as the door to Gangle’s room was opened just a crack, the ribbon girl peering just one eye out and trembling like a leaf. 

“What’s happening…?” she mewled. 

Zooble pressed their foot on top of Jax’s to keep him from speaking up. 

“It’s just a storm, Gangle… We’re gonna go see what’s going on. You wanna come with?” Ragatha smiled and approached Gangle’s door, offering a hand. Gangle gulped and took Ragatha’s hand with one of her ribbons.

“Okay…” she whimpered. 

Jax made a “gag me” motion but remained quiet. 

The six performers headed out into the main room, nearly tumbling onto the chessboard floor from another apocalyptic boom of thunder.

“Does this sort of thing ever happen out of nowhere..?!” Pomni shouted, her crabbiness from lack of sleep bubbling over.

“Didn’t you hear Caine when you first got here? ‘THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS IS A PLACE WHERE ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN!’ Chaos is sorta par for the course.” Jax replied. His impression of Caine was actually pretty good, and might have made Pomni smirk a bit if she wasn’t so irritable. 

“Jax is right,” Ragatha chimed in from further ahead. “Around here you have to expect the unexpected, and prepare for what isn’t there.” 

“Yeah, but the way I said it wasn’t stupid.” Jax replied. 

The six of them reached the tent’s exit. It was zipped closed, but quavered feverishly. A small pool of rainwater oozed through the bottom of the flap, occasionally lit bright pearly blue by unseen flashes of lightning from outside. 

“Okay, so it’s definitely storming. Now we know.” Jax drawled, crossing his arms. 

“See Kinger? No one is coming, it’s just bad we-“

Another tremendous crash of thunder interrupted Ragatha, and a half-second later, all of the lights in the tent sputtered and died. The only light left was the heavily censored sunlight from outside filtering under the tent flap. 

“I f#%&$ng hate it here…” Zooble sighed. 

“Okay, no one wander off. Let’s all stick together and find our way back to our rooms…” Ragatha began.

Gangle jolted with a yelp. “Someone grabbed me!”

“Jax!” Zooble growled.

“It wasn’t me! I’m all the way back here, Hodge-Podge!” Jax retorted from the darkness. 

“It was me, Gangle! I grabbed your hand…” Ragatha interjected. “I’m sorry, I thought you would need a hand to hold.”

“Tha-That’s not my hand-”

The performers squinted as a corona of light bloomed in the middle of the room. From the center of the ring, Bubble appeared, glowing with an iridescent, rainbow colored light.

“And God said, let there be LIGHT!” he announced, his squeaky voice echoing throughout the tent.

“DON’T BE RIDICULOUS BUBBLE! IF ANYONE’S GOD AROUND HERE, IT’S YOURS TRULY!” Caine floated down from on high, emitting his own faint light, just enough so he could be seen clearly against the backdrop of darkness. 

“There is no God here…” Zooble muttered.

“Amen.” added Pomni.

“SO MY LITTLE SUPERSTARS! IT SEEMS YOU’VE ALL BEEN MADE AWARE OF OUR INCLEMENT WEATHER!” Caine unzipped the tent entrance. The sky was charcoal black and arcing with threads of lightning. Rain slashed across the grounds in great sweeps and the howling wind eagerly pushed its way into the tent, bringing in a spray of raindrops that doused the six performers, who covered their faces and demanded Caine close the tent again, which he thankfully did after just a few seconds.

“BUT NOT TO WORRY! WHILE I FIX THIS BROUHAHA, YOU ALL-”

He paused for another crash of thunder. 

“-YOU ALL WILL BE ENJOYING AN ADVENTURE!” 

“La dee da.” Jax drawled.

“SO, PLEASE ENJOY YOUR TIME IIIIN-”

Caine snapped his fingers. There was a moment or two of silence before Caine looked down at his fingers and snapped once again. Then again. 

“Huh. That was supposed to open a portal.” Caine said sheepishly. 

“Did you try turning it off and on again?” Bubble asked, squinting one eye.

“Havin’ issues there, Caine? It’s alright, it happens to guys your age.” Jax said with a grin. Pomni felt the corners of her mouth raise, despite herself. 

“I DON’T APPRECIATE YOUR INNUENDO, JAX!” Caine declared, brandishing his cane with a trembling hand. He tried a few more futile finger snaps. 

“So, we’re stuck here..?” Gangle asked, wringing her ribbons together. “In the dark..?”

There was an ill-timed crash of thunder that made her jump and squeak a little too loudly. She covered up her mask as bright pink blush marks formed under her eyes.

“Yeah, I’m with Ribbons, Caine,” Jax said, jabbing a thumb at Gangle. “Everybody knows monsters like the dark since it’s easier to hide.”

“Okay, cut the Twilight Zone bull$#!%.” Zooble scoffed.

“As someone who’s actually seen The Twilight Zone,” Ragatha piped up. “The quote is ‘There’s nothing in the dark that wasn’t there when the lights were on.’ So we’re fine, Gangle. It’s just us.” 

“Nerd.” Jax replied.

In the midst of this whole exchange, Caine had snapped his fingers a good two dozen times before clapping his hands to his face/teeth and bellowing in frustration. 

“Excusemeforjustonesecond!” he spat before disappearing in a flash of light and some confetti. Bubble looked around, barely managing a “Bye-!” before popping, dousing the light and plunging the room back into darkness.

There was a moment or two of silence before another peal of thunder shook the tent. Gangle let out a quiet, uneasy groan as everyone tried to get their bearings in an almost total absence of light. 

“I’m going back to bed.” Zooble announced flatly. The only indication that they were leaving was the sound of careful footsteps receding into the black.

“Wait, can you find your way there?” Pomni asked. 

“I’ll figure it out.” Zooble replied, nothing but a voice from the darkness. Pomni listened to their receding footsteps before she began to pace back and forth. 

“I can’t believe it, he just left us here. Not even a flashlight! Isn’t this place supposed to be magic?! How does the power even go out?!”

“It is the first time I’ve ever seen this happen since I’ve been here…” Ragatha admitted. “What about you, Kinger? You ever seen anything like this?”

“Right now I don’t see much of anything…” Kinger replied matter-of-factly. 

Another roar of thunder, Gangle making an unhappy noise and clinging to Ragatha. Since it was dark, Jax couldn’t see, and thus couldn’t tease her for it. Ragatha patted her on the mask. 

“I don’t want to go off by myself… What if something happens?” she whimpered.

“Come on, Crybaby, you’re not seriously worried about monsters, are ya?” Jax drawled. 

“You’re the one that put the thought into her head, Jax.” Pomni replied. 

“I was joking .” Jax snarked, as if it was the most obvious fact since “water happened to be a little damp.”

“Jokes are supposed to be funny.”

“Yeah?” Jax’s tone darkened. “Well unfortunately, Clownface , the funny guy-”

They were interrupted by a dry, metallic scratch and a spark of orange light. Kinger held a silver lighter in his hand, which supported a tiny yellow-orange flame. 

“…That’s my lighter.” Jax said after a moment. “Where did you get my lighter?!”

“Wait, Jax, why do you have a lighter at all?” Ragatha interjected. 

“None of your business. You need to stay outta my stuff, Hoo-Hah.” Jax took a few steps towards Kinger. 

“I only found it.” Kinger said, taking an equal number of steps back.

“Bull. I don’t leave my stuff layin’ around. Hand it over.” Jax stuck a gloved hand out. 

Kinger looked down at the lighter, then to Jax, who put his hand forward more insistently. Kinger snapped the lighter closed, smothering the fire and disappearing into darkness. 

“Hey! Where’d you go?!” 

“Kinger, wait! We need the light! Don’t go!” Gangle begged. 

There was a grunt and a crash somewhere in the dark, the thunder replying in kind. Another dry, metallic scratch and Kinger reappeared, illuminated orange and standing over by Gangle and Ragatha. 

“What was that?!” he cried, stiffly holding the flame out in front of him. 

“It was me, you moron!” Jax’s irritated voice called out from somewhere in the void. “I couldn't see my hand in front of my face! Now hand over my lighter before I-”

Kinger yelped and snapped the lighter closed again.

“Both of you, stop it!” Pomni shouted. “Jax, I don’t give a $#!% if it’s yours or not, it’s all we’ve got for light right now, so quit acting like a p&!€# for two god&@#% seconds! Kinger!” 

They heard the jester take a breath and soften her voice. 

“Kinger. We need the lighter to see. Can you please turn it back on so we can at least get back to our rooms?”

There was a pause, another rumble of thunder, and at last, a metallic flick as the lighter sparked again. Kinger’s hands shook. 

“Thank you…” Pomni said with a weary smile. “Lead the way, if you don’t mind.”

The five performers made their way towards backstage, slowly and methodically in the cavernous tent. They passed an overturned pile of brightly colored shapes, Jax delivering a well aimed punt to a mint-colored cylinder, which sailed off into the darkness and landed out of sight with a drumroll of thuds. 

“Was that the thing you tripped over?” Ragatha asked, her smile audible in her voice. 

“Felt like kickin’ something.” Jax replied tartly. 

After a few minutes of careful maneuvering amidst peals of thunder, the five of them made it to the corridor backstage.

“Well… what do we do now..?” Pomni asked.

“Do we have to do anything?” Jax replied.

“Well… not really. But I think it might be fun to have a slumber party!” Ragatha said brightly. 

“No offense, Ragatha, but I don’t know if any of us are really in a party mood…” Pomni said, rubbing her left arm with her right hand. 

“No, no, it doesn’t have to be an actual party. We can all just hang around in my room! I’ve got some candles we can light so we can see, and I’ll teach you guys how to make a blanket fort-” 

“You have candles?” Pomni interrupted. “Oh, that’s really good news… Now we don’t have to sit around in the dark. How many do you have, Ragatha?”

“Oh gosh, um…” Ragatha rubbed her chin with her hand. “30? No, 40!” 

There was a period of silence. Kinger held the lighter out so she was illuminated. 

“What?” Ragatha asked, putting her hands on her hips defensively. “I need to de-stress every once in a while too, y’know!” 

“If the tent ever burns down, we know who to blame.” Jax quipped. 

“Oh stop it!” Ragatha flapped her hand dismissively.

“Can… we have a few? Just to have a little bit of light around here…” Pomni asked, touching the tips of her fingers together. 

“Yeah! Absolutely, come on!” Ragatha led her fellow performers to her room, unlocking the door with a bit of flourish and motioning them inside. “After you!” 

The four of them entered her room, Kinger leading the way with the lighter. Ragatha’s bedroom was… on brand. In the dim light, they could make out some plastic furniture that would have been right at home in a dollhouse. A pink, squat tea table surrounded by some plush and frilly cushions. The table came complete with an old fashioned white China teapot and cups, a glazed pink and yellow flower painted on the side of the pot, and the rims of both the cups and pot were lined with gold leaf (or at least a serviceable imitation of it). In the opposite corner, a CRT television sat within a yellow floral patterned hutch, and a game console was hooked up to it. Her bed sat neatly made on the far end of the room, a canopy like Pomni’s, although striped with magenta and cotton-candy pink rather than red and blue. At the food of the bed sat at least a dozen stuffed animals, a teddy bear, a camel, a tiger, and more, all in a neat pile. While they should have looked cute and inviting in the light, in the near dark, they looked uncanny. Their shoebutton eyes caught the flame’s reflection in such a way that made them look insectoid, and their vacant, pleasant expressions staring off into nothing gave off the impression of someone who had lost their mind gazing into the abyss. 

Ragatha hurried over to the hutch, opening a drawer and taking out a brand new white candle. 

“Here’s my stash,” she chuckled, rummaging around in the drawer a bit more. “I have a couple that are scented too. Do you guys like… apple cinnamon or toasted marshmallow more? I’m more of a sandalwood gal myself…”

Jax made a noise of disgust. Kinger stared intently at a stuffed elephant, as if waiting for it to blink. 

“Nanny cam…?” he whispered to himself. 

There was a crash of thunder and everyone jolted. Gangle covered the top of her mask with her ribbons and Kinger fumbled with the lighter, managing to keep hold of it. 

“Good thing you have that, Jax. I just ran out of matches…” Ragatha sighed, setting up a neat cluster of candles 

“Okay, um, I think we should use a couple to light the hallway, if it’s okay with you…at least until Caine fixes things.” Pomni said. “Um, and if I could borrow one or two for my room-”

“Me too please.” Gangle chimed in, raising a ribbon. 

“I need to get my camping stove…” Kinger muttered, still engaged in a stare-off with Ragatha’s stuffed elephant. 

“K-Kinger, you have a camping stove?” Pomni asked. 

“The h@!! do you need one of those for?” Jax also asked, crouching beside Kinger to see what was so interesting about that and stuffed animal. 

“��In case the power goes out.” Kinger replied after a moment.

“This is the first time the power has ever gone out…” Ragatha admitted, but she smiled anyway. “I’m glad you’ve been thinking ahead though.”

Ragatha then gasped. “Oh! We can make tea! I have the best recipe I need to show you guys! It’s perfect for a day like today!”

“I’d like some tea. Something warm to drink would really hit the spot.” Pomni said with a faint smile. Gangle also nodded. 

“Hey, I got a suggestion too.” Jax called, raising a finger. 

In one swoosh, Jax snatched the lighter out of Kinger’s hands, closing it with a clink and extinguishing their one source of light. 

“Jax, hey! I can’t see!” complained Ragatha.

“My lighter, my rules. I’m heading back to my room.” he said.

“What…? Jax, you’re kidding. We need the lighter for just a little longer, then it’s all yours.” Ragatha insisted. 

“It’s already all mine. You stole it. So now I’m keeping it.” Jax replied from somewhere in the dark. 

“Jax, come on!” Pomni shouted. “Everyone could have light again if you would just-”

“Everyone will have light again when Caine gets the electricity working. Just be patient.” 

“But… But Jax…” Gangle began, her voice quavering. “I’m… I’m scared of the dark, please just let us light a few candles…”

“Nope. Your eyes should adjust soon enough.”

The sound of Jax’s retreating footsteps and the open and shut of the door were muffled by another churning rumble of thunder. Ragatha sighed from her place in the dark. 

“Well, don’t worry everyone. We can have a slumber party even in the dark. It’ll take a bit more time to set up and we can’t do as much, but-”

Everyone jumped at a sudden angry yell and thunk. Pomni punched the wall, then felt her way towards the door, throwing it open and stomping out into the hallway. 

“Pomni’s very angry.” Kinger said in a hushed voice. Ragatha set her candles down on the hutch, a few of them rolling off and clattering to the floor as she carefully made her way to her door in almost complete darkness.

“Pomni? Pomni, where are you going?” she called out into the hall. 

It wasn’t too difficult for Pomni to find Jax’s door feeling around in the dark, it was right across from her room, after all. Her right hand aching from punching the wall, she banged on his door with her left. 

“JAX! GET OUT HERE!” she bellowed. 

“Pomni, hey, it’s okay-!” Ragatha insisted, alarmed at the newest member’s sudden explosion of rage. 

“NO! No, it’s not okay! I’m sick to death of him acting like this! It ends right the #%@& now, you hear me?!”

Pomni shouted all this as she feverishly twisted the handle of Jax’s locked door. After several mighty turns, she scoffed and took a few steps back. 

“You wanna hide like a coward? Fine!” 

“What’s going on?!” Zooble’s voice shouted. They had poked their head into the hallway after hearing the racket outside. 

Pomni took another couple steps back until she was almost touching the opposite wall, then ran forward, barging Jax’s door with her shoulder. Thunder roared. 

“Pomni!” Ragatha cried, her voice cracking. “Pomni, what are you doing?! Are you okay?!”

Pomni took the same number of steps backwards and ran forward, smashing into the door again, eliciting a splintery crunch from the jamb. She backed up once again, both her right shoulder and right knuckle ached now, but she barely felt it. Truth be told she couldn’t pinpoint just one reason why Jax’s behavior had enraged her so badly. She was angry from lack of sleep, she was angry that Jax was being such a selfish bully for no reason, she was angry that he had the capacity for kindness and yet chose to act like this- 

Her rage burned blue-hot as she charged at the door, bracing her shoulder for impact. The impact never came. She sailed right past the point where she should have met hard wood, stumbling forward into a boneless somersault. She tumbled over herself and ended up in a sitting position. 

Jax’s room had incredibly faint daylight filtering in from his window. The sky was still the color of a dusty tire, mostly black with flecks of lights. Flashbulbs of lightning popped from within swollen thunderheads. 

Pomni heard the door shut behind her. In the faint light, she saw Jax turn the lock on his door before turning to look at her, arms crossed.

“You almost broke my door, newbie.” he said with almost parental condescension. 

Pomni didn’t say anything in return, only glaring. Anger prickled down her back. Thunder boomed. 

“You know what? Take it.” Jax took the lighter out of his pocket. It shined in the stormlight. “If you’re gonna throw such a hissy fit about something so tiny, you might as well have it so you don’t embarrass yourself more than you already have. Go on. I don’t want it anymore.” 

Jax held his hand out, the lighter on his palm. Pomni reared back and slapped his hand away, the lighter bouncing off the wall with a weighty thud, doing a few midair loops and finally skittering to a stop a few feet behind her.

“What the h@&&?! I gave you what-”

“SHUT UP!!!”

Pomni barked this order with such ferocity that Jax immediately fell silent. It seemed to have shocked the jester herself, as she took a moment to find her voice afterwards. 

“…Why? Why did you do that?” was all she managed to get out.

“I don’t like people touching my stuff.” came Jax’s reply. Despite his shock at being yelled at, he managed to keep his tone cool and even. There was a millisecond flash of lightning. Thunder rumbled.

“Not that. Just… why do you always..? I know you’re capable of being kind. I’ve seen it firsthand. They don’t do anything to you, Jax! So why do you just keep picking at everyone?”

“Because they let me.” 

Pomni felt her anger froth to the surface again. 

“Oh. OH. That makes perfect sense! So you’re cruel because you can be! Nice to know you’re just a sadist then! Ha! That saves me a lot of time, then! We’re through. Get outta my way.”

Pomni snatched the lighter off the ground and pushed past Jax.

“…I’m not a sadist.” he said without turning around. 

“You just said you’re cruel to people for fun. That’s the definition of a sadist!” Pomni unlocked the door to his room and placed her hand on the knob. 

“It’s not for fun.”

Her hand slid off the knob. There was a rolling growl of thunder. 

“So what is it then?!” Pomni turned back to Jax, walking up to him and poking him in the chest. “You keep changing your story! First it was ‘I want them to hate me instead of their situation,’ now it’s ‘I do it because I can.’ So what is it? Tell. Me. The. TRUTH.”

“You want the truth, huh?” Jax said. Half of his face was silhouetted in shadow, his tone steeped in frosty ire. 

“YES. Or you can forget about us. About all of this. It’ll be like we never met.” Pomni asserted. 

“FINE.” Jax hissed. He turned to the window, looking out on the maelstrom of clouds and wind and rain. Another blinding flash of lightning and grumble of thunder.

 “I… I hate myself.” 

For a good 10 seconds, the only sounds were that of the rain on the digital grass and the wind buffeting Jax’s window. 

“S-S-Say again?” Pomni finally asked.

“I hate myself.” Jax repeated, not taking his gaze off the storm. His affect was neutral, but his eyes were distant.

“You… hate yourself?” Pomni echoed. 

“Yeah.” 

The jester chewed on one of her gloves. A flicker of lightning and a softer, yet prolonged burble of thunder rolled across the grounds. She removed her glove from her teeth.

“How do I know that’s not a lie too?” she asked, looking intently at the floor. 

“It’s not.” Jax immediately replied. “I guess, just, believe me.”

Pomni continued chewing on one of her gloves. She jumped a little at an especially loud crack of thunder, but otherwise remained rooted to the spot. An excruciating minute passed.

“…Okay. You hate yourself.” Pomni finally conceded, throwing her arms out and letting her hands slap against her hips. “So?”

This query got Jax to turn towards Pomni. The icy glare on his face could have shriveled flowers. “The £@€# do you mean, ‘so?’” 

“Exactly what it sounds like.” Pomni shot back.

“So? You hate yourself so you treat everyone but me sometimes like trash?! What kind of excuse is that?”

The corner of Jax’s mouth twitched. She had prodded a nerve with that one. He turned back to the window, looking out on the storm-swept grounds. 

“Get outta my room.” he ordered.

“No.” Pomni said with a humorless laugh. “You seriously think I’m gonna go ‘Oh you poor baby, I didn’t know; all is forgiven?’ just because you said you hate yourself? It doesn’t work like that! I hate myself too and I don’t act a FIFTH as awful as you do!”

“What do you mean, you hate yourself..?” Jax demanded quietly. 

Pomni took a deep breath. Well, he had been honest with her. She waited for the latest boom of thunder to quiet down before continuing. 

“I don’t remember everything about outside… but I remember that before I came here I… I was alone. I never went out drinking or dancing; I had no one to go with. Hadn’t kept in touch with my college friends and didn’t associate with anyone at work. How could I? I never had anything to talk to my coworkers about, I never reacted right to anyone’s jokes, I only went to team building exercises if they were mandatory… But it wasn’t like they didn’t try! I got invited to dinner or to birthday parties, and I always said no, I was busy. You wanna know what I was doing?”

“Pomni-” Jax began 

“No! Ask me what I was doing!” 

Jax didn’t reply. Pomni finally shrugged after a moment and answered her own question with a phony smile.

“Nothing. £@€# all. I was doing sudoku, or watching a movie I had already seen, or scrolling on my phone in bed. And I hated myself for it! I would cry into my pillow, I was so lonely! I would tell myself how stupid, stupid, STUPID I was, and how I was an idiot who didn’t deserve friends! I had every opportunity to get out of the hole I dug for myself, and I didn’t, because I was scared they would hate me even more than I thought they already did.”

Pomni felt her anger rise once again.

“Uh huh. But guess what? I never picked on anyone. I never made anyone else feel worse! I hurt so badly some days I wanted to DIE and I still tried my best to smile and treat everyone around me like a PERSON! You hate yourself? SO F#%&ING WHAT?! That doesn’t give you the right to make everything around you worse!” 

Pomni panted, doubling over to catch her breath. She braced herself for some sort of projectile Jax might throw at her. Instead, he only stared at her before turning back to the window. Thunder rumbled. 

“I’m… sorry you hate yourself. Really. It’s the worst feeling. But it’d be so much better if you just… didn’t hurt people. Let them in and helped you heal. It’s what I needed, and now that I have friends…”

Pomni stopped herself. She stared down at the floor again. She hated eye contact already, eye contact after an argument was like staring at the sun.

“So… why do you hate yourself?” Pomni asked after some more silence. 

“What does it matter?” Jax replied. 

Pomni scoffed. “Don’t give me that. Has it occurred to you that I actually care about you? If I didn’t, why would I even be asking? Why would I have kissed you after you made me salmon a few nights ago? I like you, Jax. But you can be a real p&!@% sometimes, and that isn’t okay, even if your pain is real. Why do you hate yourself?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Jax said firmly. 

Pomni let out a protracted sigh, chewing on the finger of one of her gloves and looking down at the floor one last time before looking back up at Jax. He was looking out at the storm.

“Okay. Thanks for at least giving me a real answer. I’ll bring your lighter back in a bit.”

Pomni headed for the door once again. She felt a hand touch her shoulder and she practically jumped out of her skin with a sharp gasp. She whirled around and took a few steps back, Jax pulling his hand back in shock. 

“W-What?! Don’t… don’t touch me!” she snapped reflexively. 

“…I’m…” Jax began. 

Pomni crossed her arms and waited, looking everywhere but in Jax’s face. 

“…I’m…” he tried again. “I’m not being… I’m not just being difficult. I don’t remember.”

Pomni quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t remember what?” 

“Why. I don’t remember why I hate myself. It’s just gone. Poof, right along with my name.”

Pomni licked her lips. She was thirsty from all the shouting. 

“You’re… being serious right now? You aren’t just trying to weasel your way-”

“No. No, I’m- I’m totally serious.” 

Pomni managed to look into his eyes for a moment. They were big, but his pupils were tiny despite the extremely low light. Just the way he’d looked after she had seen him have a nightmare. Scared. 

“…That’s horrible.” Pomni said, looking away after she began to feel itchy. “I… can’t imagine how horrible it must be to hurt and not know why… like a pain in a phantom limb.” 

Jax didn’t say anything, looking back out at the window. Lightning flashed, a bright pink-white splinter across the clouds, and there was a tremulous rumble of thunder that followed. 

“But… you shouldn’t take it out on people. Even if it makes the pain stop. There are other things you can do…” Pomni added. “And… And I’m willing to listen to you whenever you’re hurting. Even if I’m hurting too.” 

Jax looked back at the jester, who immediately stared down at the floor. 

“Why? You barely know me. You said it was so hard to make friends back in the real world. What makes me so special?”

Pomni swallowed. She really needed something to drink. 

“I know. That it’s bizarre for me to like you when I’ve always had such a hard time. But… I want to help you anyway. Isn’t that weird?”

She managed a smile and to look him in the eyes again. Jax gave a short “heh…” and looked away this time. 

“Thanks, Pompom.” he said.

“Anytime, Bunny-Boy.” 

The two of them shared an awkward chuckle. Pomni cleared her throat.

“Um… do you want to come with me? I’m gonna go have tea with Ragatha and the others…”

“I think I’m okay…” Jax replied. 

“Jax, come on. It’ll be fun… Please?” 

Pomni offered a hand. 

“Alright, alright. But only ‘cause you said please.”

Jax took the jester’s hand, Pomni sparking the lighter and leading the way back to Ragatha’s bedroom.

[serickswrites]

To Hurt and To End V

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

Warnings: captivity, noncon, restraints, gags, yandere, knife, blood, cuts

Supervillain was very satisfied with Hero. Hero was everything Supervillain had dreamed of. Their soft moans around the gag. The hatred in their eyes as Supervillain touched them. And the quiet rage that kept them from responding to Supervillain. 

“Oh, my sweet, it will be lovely, you just have to let yourself enjoy it. I am a kind, and generous lover,” Supervillain cooed as they continued to work Hero in one hand and caress Hero’s chest with their other. 

Hero glared up at Supervillain, unable to move away due to the cuffs and unable to speak due to the gag. All they could do was glare. And wait. Eventually Supervillain would stop and they could make their move. 

Hero was wrong. 

As Supervillain took their time with Hero over the next few days, Hero realized that Supervillain simply willed them to sleep each time they finished. It was only after Supervillain began to speak about the passage of time that Hero realized it. 

“We’ve had such a good few days, Hero. I’ve been enjoying my time with you. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. But I’m ready to commence the next phase of our relationship.”

“MMMMphrrr,” Hero growled around the gag as Supervillain pulled out a long, sharp knife. Hero tried to pull away as Supervillain climbed on top of them. 

“Hero, you are mine to hold,” Supervillain cupped Hero’s cheek. “Mine to do as I wish with,” their fingers tranced down Hero’s jaw and to their nipple. Supervillain gave a quick squeeze before speaking again. “Mine to hurt,” they slashed along Hero’s collar bone. 

Hero screamed around the gag as they felt their skin split and hot blood leak from the shallow cut. Supervillain made two more slashes. Hero’s heart was thudding in their chest as they felt the blood begin to coat their skin. This was not good. 

Supervillain gave a wicked grin. “Yes, sweet Hero. Remember, you are mine to hurt.” They slashed once more. “And eventually, you’ll be mine to end.” And they stabbed the knife to the hilt through Hero’s hand.

Tags: @daemonvatis@hopefullywritingahit@whoelseuprebloging@terriblywhumpy @coffin-comforts @madmadder @kyoukatsuki @pebbles-pile @crapimintoeverything @ccieatchildren @

[peskellence]

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/ Comfort

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Summary: In the aftermath of Detroit's android revolution, Nines grapples with the complexities of his newfound deviancy. As he seeks to establish his place in a newly transformed society, his resolve is put to the ultimate test when he is paired with Detective Gavin Reed-a notoriously volatile human with a well-established hatred for androids-to investigate a series of murders.

While initial impressions of his partner seem to suggest his reputation is well-deserved, the more time Nines spends with him, the more he is forced to challenge his judgments. As they form an unexpected bond, the RK900 is also pushed to examine truths about himself he would much rather seek to forget. (A Retelling of 'More Than Our Parts' from the POV of Nines.)

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self, Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 5.2K

Tag List (I forgot - sorry!) : @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @ladyj-pl @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel

♡If you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know♡

Nines sat at his workstation, methodically sifting through the findings from yesterday's case. He scrutinised each gruesome detail, hoping to discern anything that might have been overlooked. Sander's Team would need time to analyse the forensic samples, but he doubted this would amount to anything significant. 

The attack had been frustratingly contained, with the culprit leaving little trace of themself—save a deliberately constructed path of carnage. To avoid wasting time, Nines decided to utilise what limited information they had available to craft a more detailed suspect profile: 

> ACCESSING FILE 'HARTWELL SUSPECT.'

> COMMENCING PROCESS — CRIMINOLOGICAL ANALYSIS…

> PATH ESTABLISHED. 

> ASSAILANT POSED AS CLIENT — SUSPICION OF VICTIM NOT IMMEDIATELY TRIGGERED. 

[ REFER TO INTERNAL FILE 'jason_Hr400_personalorganiser'] 

> ALIAS' THOD GRAWS' — SINGLE INDIVIDUAL STATED — SCENE EVIDENCE INCONSISTENT WITH ADDITIONAL ACCOMPLICES. 

> SUFFICIENTLY STRONG TO LIFT AND MANEUVER MODEL HR400 ANDROID.

> ANTI-ANDROID RHETORIC EXPRESSED IN THE FORM OF VANDALISM — THIRIUM MESSAGE LEFT FOR DISCOVERY BY INVESTIGATIVE UNIT.

With consideration for all relevant details, an overview was starting to take shape—outlined in the expanding BIOS filling the scope of his optical field:

> HARTWELL SUSPECT PROFILE — UPDATE IN PROGRESS.

> ANALYTICAL HYPOTHESIS COMMENCED.

> GENERATING RESULTS…

> HUMAN MALE. 20 — 40 YRS.

[ MATCHES TYPICAL CLIENTELE PROFILE ]

> ABOVE AVERAGE PHYSICAL CAPABILITIES — LARGE OR MUSCULAR BUILD. 

> PRE-ESTABLISHED KNOWLEDGE OF ROBOTICS / CYBERNETICS — INCLUDING MECHANICS OF CYBERLIFE ANDROIDS. 

> PREDICTING MOTIVATION… 

The RK900 felt his neural functions stall temporarily as he decided on the trajectory of his ongoing analysis. Of course, the primary motivation seemed obvious. There was little room for interpretation left in the culprit's messages. 

However, there seemed to be a little more at play. A deeper lining prejudice, far more implicit than might have been initially apparent. He considered the killer's choice of language, as well as the positioning used when presenting the body for discovery…

> BASED ON RHETORICAL EVIDENCE LEFT AT THE SCENE :

> SUSPECTS HOLD STRONG ANTI-ANDROID SENTIMENTS.

> STANCE MAY BE INFLUENCED BY ESTABLISHED RELIGIOUS BELIEFS OR SIMILAR IDEOLOGIES.

> POSSIBLE DISILLUSIONMENT WITH CYBERLIFE AS A WIDER INSTITUTION? EVIDENCE INSUFFICIENT — TO BE DETERMINED. 

> HARTWELL SUSPECT PROFILE UPDATED.

Of course, the more detailed nuances of the killer's motivation were far from their primary concern right now. More pressing was the growing indication of prior offences—as if the same degree of care had been applied to their previous attacks, Nines could only wonder just how long they had been operating whilst evading detainment.

With the suspect profile at the forefront of his mind, Nines scanned his hand on the terminal and began cross-referencing the findings with recent DPD records of android-focused attacks. If any patterns could be established, which he suspected was likely, he at the very least hoped it would shed some light on their killer's operations, making catching up to them easier—

"—Shit!" 

Unsurprisingly, the urgency of this task appeared to have eluded his partner. 

With a survey of their shared workstation, he observed as the man fumbled callously with his third caffeinated beverage of the morning. A viscous glob of brown liquid dribbled down his chin as a reddened hand frantically swatted at his protruding tongue. It would appear the beverage had been hot, an observation only made after testing it with his mouth.

Even amidst the continuous bustle of the precinct, Reed's antics proved a prominent distraction. It might have been considered impressive, were it not so irritating.

"I sense that you are stressed, Detective," the android coolly remarked, averting his attention from the tragic display. "Perhaps a walk around the station may help to relieve some tension." 

In all honesty, concern for the man's well-being formed very little part of this suggestion. He simply hoped that the time it would take for him to walk around the building would prove sufficient for him to filter the pungent aromatic compounds jamming his olfactory processors. 

Regrettably, Reed proved less than receptive in granting him such relief. "Go fuck yourself."

Nines could only assume this rejection was made purely out of spite. The mantra he had been fighting to maintain up until this point, 'making the most' of his current situation, was becoming less of a persistent challenge and more of a statistical impossibility. 

His partner's presence grated on him like an unbearable itch, and it seemed to matter little if he chose to scratch or endure. Gavin Reed was an affliction that refused to be managed. 

Even after the coffee debacle, the android found his receptors barraged with multiple other nuisances. Constant physical and verbal tics—including the perpetual bounce of his leg, as well as frequent grumbled vulgarities. It inspired fantasies of reaching across the desk, robbing the man's ability to engage in such behaviours with targeted pressure to his neck. 

With considerable personal restraint, he managed to resist the urge. Unlike his partner, he wished to keep his records clear of extraneous assault charges. There was also no way of confirming what passive enjoyment Reed might garner from such a reaction—perhaps some twisted sense of pride or a masochistic thrill.

rA9 knew humans derived pleasure from the strangest of things. After all the material he had been unwittingly subjected to via the Hartwell victim's personal organiser, the android concluded he'd rather not delve into that particular aspect of his partner's psyche. 

After an extended period of scrolling on his phone, Reed's concentration moved reluctantly to his neglected terminal—albeit 'concentrating' could be considered a generous descriptor. Nothing about his actions demonstrated any degree of motivation beyond upholding a flimsy facade of appearing to be working. He lounged lazily in his chair, tapping his fingers in listless plods against his keyboard. 

With each monotonous clack, Nines could feel the weight of his complacency bearing heavily on his shoulders. Were he to delay the finalising of their reports any longer, the RK900 would simply be forced to—

"What is your name anyway?" Reed said suddenly. His eyes flitted towards the android, honed attentively whilst paradoxically devoid of any meaningful thought or engagement. "Don't think you ever bothered to tell me."

In contrast to the man's slackened jaw, Nines felt his own lock in exasperation. Rather than waste time on the question, he could have easily secured the desired information from the readily accessible staff records. Clearly, the process of opening a second tab on his computer proved far too mentally tasking. 

"My model number is sufficient," he responded, in a far greater show of agreeability than was deserved.

Despite this, the answer failed to satisfy his partner. He could not help but notice that Reed had proceeded to mimic his words, jutting his chin towards the ceiling as he flapped his lips in large, animated movements. It was a bizarre performance—for which Nines was uncertain who the intended audience had been. 

He prevented the pantomime from encroaching further into his optical field as he returned focus to the still-opened pathways pertaining to their case. The next logical step seemed to be comparing the Hartwell case to similar unsolved incidents. If any comparisons could be drawn, it may allow them to discern patterns in the killer's activities and determine an area of operation in which to focus their search.

With the criteria calibrated, the Hartwell documents were procedurally checked against the wider criminal database. A surreal kaleidoscope of shattered plastic, detached limbs and vibrant streaks of blue filled his vision—blinding him periodically. Their prevalence was alarming, as were the many parallels he was swiftly able to draw. 

It had become apparent that the killer hadn't just committed crimes against androids before, he was a seasoned professional. 

"When looking at the findings from the HR400 case, there are seven near-identical homicides that have occurred within a 10-mile radius." He directed his attention to Reed as the data faded from view, confining itself to his terminal monitor. "As well as fifteen further assault or harassment reports with notable similarities."

The man raised his brows at the revelation before his eyes rolled in a curt dismissal. "So what? Doesn't mean they're connected."

Nines felt his tested patience dwindle further as he was taken by an impulse to thump a head onto the table. Either his own or Reed's—he hadn't decided yet. Perhaps if he were to opt for the latter, it may inadvertently knock some sense into the thoroughly detestable man. 

"Our suspect works carefully not to incriminate themselves, leaving little to no DNA evidence." In hopes a visual may circumvent his partner's inability to employ basic reasoning, he turned his monitor in his direction. "They do, however, enjoy leaving calling cards for the police..." 

He descended through the contents of the page, watching as Reed's expression fell in line with the grotesque text and images. Reflections of synthetic gore shone ominously against his pupils, until they started to narrow, focusing on the images. No doubt some form of dormant reflex developed from his time of the force. An understanding that he ought to pay attention, even if he didn't want to. 

Hoping it might prove the catalyst for progress, Nines pressed a little further. "The handwriting is consistent across the crime scenes." He pointed his finger in line with a few of the killer's scrawlings, outlining the similarities in the gnarled letters.

"... That's all well and good, but the fuck are we supposed to do with a handwriting sample in 2039?" His tenuously held interest had already waned. Reed began picking at the corner of his mouse mat, rolling a ball of dislodged foam between his fingertips. "If that's all we have to work with, then we're royally screwed."

Nines slumped back in his seat, feeling entirely defeated. His grip tightened on the screen as he forcefully returned it to its original position. As his fingers burrowed into the flimsy chrome plating, it began to warp beneath his hold. By the time he realised what he had done, he was dismayed to discover that the action had left a series of prominent indents. 

"If you were to review the files yourself, perhaps you might find something of greater significance." 

There was a brief hush as Reed stilled completely. The ambient sounds of the precinct became the only noise shared between them—methodic typing and the mumbled chatter between co-workers. Then, a harsh demand cut through, like a final stone cast at the crumbling foundations of the android's composure.  

"Come again?"

If their short partnership had demonstrated anything, it was that Reed's contentious reputation was more than deserved. First impressions could be misleading, but in his partner's case, they had proved incredibly efficient in demonstrating the calibre of man he was.

Were Reed an android, he would have been deactivated long ago—the only consistency in his erraticism being his enduring cruelty and arrogance. No doubt this stemmed from some perceived dissatisfaction in his own personal or professional life, the fault for which was undoubtedly his.

"You have worked here for significantly longer than me, yet you seem to lack all the prerequisite skills to fulfil your duties." There was a stir of movement as the android detected a steady rise in the man's respiratory rate. "Perhaps this would explain why you are so consistently passed up for progression opportunities, not to mention promotion—"

There was a harsh strike against the desk, rattling its already unsteady foundations. Reed sat with his palms sprawled on the scuffed veneer surface, before he pushed against it, hauling himself to his feet. Leaving his chair, the man was practically foaming at the mouth with ill-concealed anger. His nostrils flared wide, and his head bucked forward, similar to an irate bull. 

"Where do you get off telling me how to do my job?"

Nines was more than happy to elaborate on the less-than-stellar overview he had constructed of Detective Reed. Perhaps it might provide the man with some valuable self insight, of which he clearly lacked any. 

"I am the most advanced model that CyberLife has ever created. I was programmed to assist in police investigations, with my performance continuously adjusted and monitored to uphold exceptionally high standards. I know incompetence when I see it."

Reed took immediate and hostile issue with the criticism. Even if Nines had not been able to detect the change in his vitals, the reflective tensing of his muscles—in particular the hostile curling of fingers against his palms—was more than telling of his intentions. 

"Is it in your damn programming to be such a prick all the time?"

"I am simply being honest."

The warning signs soon came to fruition, with almost comedic predictability. "They should have left you in the warehouse to rot, you fucking machine—"

As Reed's fist hurtled towards him, Nines intercepted it in a fluid motion. His hand closed around the man's wrist, applying pressure like the centralised force of a hydraulic press. He then pinned it firmly to the desk, preventing any further momentum. 

Clearly, the human had been spoiled by the restraint shown by his previous android targets. His rush of adrenaline seemed to taper instantly, as he took note of the wrenching hold riveting him in place. 

Nines observed with curiosity as signals of pain sent twitches through the human's muscles. His skin felt spongey and delicate, melding itself to his tightly wound fingers with remarkable ease. He could feel the beat of his pulse racing through the fleshy guard. A final, damning confirmation of just how fragile he truly was.  

"Let go of me, you piece of—!"

"You are fortunate that I am not willing to fight you," the android interrupted, his contemptuous tone laden with ice. "Had I been, your hand would be broken."

It was clear Reed had started to realise the gravity of his mistake as his scornful eyes widened in wake of the threat. The machine restraining him possessed more control over the situation than he could have ever comprehended. It could not be swayed by insults or threats, nor overpowered by any degree of force.

Despite his continued resistance, there was fear brimming in his gaze. It eclipsed all traces of zeal and bravado, as he realised just how easily Nines could have destroyed him in the pursuit of defending himself. 

"...Let go." 

To ensure the message was well received and that no further aggression was attempted, Nines leaned forward—positioning his mouth just above the shell of the man's ear. 

"Even if I were to let you hit me, is the fleeting satisfaction you would feel worth losing your career over? People are watching Detective Reed. I would consider your next move carefully."

His pride had been wounded, remnants leaking through the cracks of his narrowed eyes. He didn't want to stop fighting; that much was obvious, but even Reed—in all his irrationality—could recognise its futility. 

Once his body was completely still, and the beat of the pulse against his sensor pads had begun to slow, Nines decided to release him. The man yanked his arm back quickly as he pawed at the reddened imprints left on his wrist. 

Anger permeated his every syllable once he had regained the needed composure to speak. The words slicing the air like a guillotine, spurred by the cutting edge of his tongue. "If you ever pull a stunt like this again, I don't care what happens to me. I will fucking murder you."

It was clear how desperately the man wished for his threats to hold any weight. Nines, on the other hand, have never felt less intimidated in his life. He smoothly dismissed the notion, resisting the assured smirk threatening to curl his lips. "As we have just established, you couldn't hurt me even if you tried."

> INCOMING TRANSMISSION.

RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 >> RK900 #313 248 317 - 87

I haven't heard from you in a while.

Is everything okay?

His encroaching smile vanished completely as a new irritation presented itself—formed in the sudden pop-up on his HUD. Naturally, RK800 would feel inclined to check in. He'd want to know how things were progressing with Nines and his new partner. 

As much as Nines appreciated the vigilance came from a place of concern, he couldn't help but find it a little intrusive. Like he was a small child, being kept under constant check by a protective older sibling. 

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87 >> RK800 #313 248 317 - 51

Everything is fine. 

I am currently discussing case findings with Detective Reed.

RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 >> RK900 #313 248 317 - 87

Are you sure about that? 

Seems like quite a violent discussion.

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87 >> RK800 #313 248 317 - 51

I have no idea what you are talking about. 

The situation is under control. You've no cause for concern.

RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 >> RK900 #313 248 317 - 87

Nines, I am standing by your desk. 

"Detective Reed, RK900." 

RK800 then spoke aloud, allowing the human to be privy to their ongoing interactions. Nines wished he hadn't bothered. 

As if Reed wasn't already in a foul enough mood, the introduction of a second android seemed to tip him over the edge. He looked ready to lash out again or, at the very least, attempt to, with RK800 his new target of focus. "What the fuck do you want, dipshit?"

A small step was made away from Nines and towards his predecessor, to which the former was immediately on guard. It was clear the man had learnt nothing from their recent exchange, the exercise in synthetic superiority unable to pierce his long-standing fog of prejudice. 

That being said, should the man attempt to lay hands on RK800, Nines would resolve to make sure the lesson was learned—in spite of any concerns regarding his behavioural record.

RK800 glanced at the younger android before subtly shaking his head, an assurance he had things under control. He then focused his attention on Reed, tracking his movements with a cranial tilt as a polite smile spread on his lips.

"I understand that you've been assigned to investigate the murder of a former Traci. I was wondering what you'd learnt so far."

"What's it to ya?" the man spat back, his growing disdain more than apparent in the unsightly wrinkle of his nose. "Don't you and Anderson have your own cases you need to work on?"

"We do…but I will admit I have taken an interest in this particular crime." 

RK800 paused, his LED flickering yellow as he deliberated on his ongoing approach. Then his dark eyes began to soften, the product of a manipulation protocol Nines was certain had served him well in many previous interactions. 

"I understand that it shares similarities with other recent attacks?" His voice was smooth and honeyed as he continued to speak, tinged with an endearing curiosity. 

It seemed Reed was entirely immune to its appeal. He crossed his arms, as his lips pulled shut in a tightly pinched grimace. A firm indication that he would not be sharing any information with the android, regardless of how personable his approach may be.

Before RK800 had a chance to start batting his eyelashes, Nines spared them all the performance by firmly stepping forward, positioning himself between the detective and his predecessor.

"Several." He then retracted the skin of his palm, holding it upright as a silent indication of his intended exchange method. While RK800 eventually complied, he did so with an uncertain glance at the man beside them. 

Their palms met, and the precinct was gone—disappearing from sight

[tvreadsandsleep]

» Sparring!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List « » Companion piece to Unadulterated. «

The surface dweller had captured his attention from the start. On the bridge, his eyes had set on her when she’d removed her jacket (her lips moving in what he’d assumed was a threat) and had remained glued to her the entire time. He’d watched as she fought his soldiers, circling their forms, ostensibly to study Talokan’s warriors, but, in actuality, his gaze had never left her.

Her graceful twists and turns and artful dodges and attacks had enchanted him, keeping him spellbound as his perusal had continued, and one by one his soldiers fell. Excitement had danced through his veins when he’d dismissed the fallen to take the woman on himself. Excitement and arousal, his cock stiffening during his advancement.

What a shame that she has to die, he’d thought before he’d begun his attack. However, he’d been unable to kill her. Injure her, yes, but she’d survived his onslaught and had even been able to draw first blood—his blood and life source. It was no wonder that from then on, he’d been obsessed. The woman had been his constant thought throughout Talokan’s battles with Wakanda.

After the alliance between their nations had become official, he’d sought her out, yet again, but this time to properly and civilly introduce himself. His approach had been hampered by the scowl on her face and glare of hatred in her eyes. It was clear that, though their rulers had declared peace, the fierce warrior had not yet been ready to make amends.

Attuma had kept his distance, watching her from afar until they were forced to work with one another. Well, she’d been forced. He’d had to tamper down his enthusiasm when he’d been tasked, in conjunction with her, to head a series of training sessions between their nations’ military forces. She’d been cold, yet cordial, during their initial interactions, but, with time, had slowly begun to soften toward him. She’d eventually started to spare him small smiles and light chuckles when he’d jested during their time together.

He'd relished those moments, and, gaining confidence from her more amicable disposition, had asked her to spar in private. She’d tentatively accepted and from there a true friendship had commenced. It was during these solitary sessions that Attuma had made a crucial discovery.

He’d regularly been able to hear her heart rate accelerate around him and had, previously, attributed it to her hatred or the strenuous activity. There’d also been the smell of arousal, the sweet earthy scent tickling his nose as he and Okoye had given instruction. It wasn’t until they were alone that he’d been able to ascertain that it came from her. The knowledge had made his heart thrill, and it had taken all of his willpower not to act on his conclusion.

Tempering his haste, he’d decided to test his theory. He’d begun wearing shorter, more revealing, loincloths and invaded her personal space more closely during their grappling, going as far as brushing his manhood against her soft curves. The gasp she’d tried to hide had tested his restraint, but he’d held back, not wanting to rush or offend Okoye.

He’d been good, biding his time, until one evening the damn broke. She’d arrived to their scheduled meeting later than usual, the scent of her pussy and its essence much stronger in the air. Attuma inhaled deep, His mouth watered as he imagined what she could’ve been doing to cause her tardiness. When she approached and apologized, he let their session begin without comment, but he lost it when his palm made contact with her heated skin. He tackled her down to the ground in a sexual, undisciplined, hold. She went along easily, he noted, her thighs hugging his waist.

“Okoye, my desire for you burns to the depths of my soul. If our coupling is not to your wishes, please speak so now,” his voice was desperate, made husky by his arousal. His hips moved of their own volition, his erection grinding into her groin.

Under his intense stare, Attuma watched as her mouth struggled to form words. The sound that, at last, slipped through was a deep and sensual moan, which his lust-soaked brain took as her assent. His body finished his descent onto her, ravaging the woman who’d taken over its senses.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Christopher Mathias at HuffPost:

NEW YORK — A crowd of pro-Israel protesters gathered just outside the Columbia University campus on Thursday evening, chanting through the gates at a group of pro-Palestinian students inside to “go to Gaza!” “Go home, terrorists!” the pro-Israel crowd screamed at the students. “Go back to Gaza!” they yelled. “Stop wasting mommy and daddy’s money!” one man said through a megaphone. “You want to camp? Go camp in Gaza!” said another man, referring to the Palestinian territory where Israel’s siege has killed some 33,000 people, and where this week local health officials said medics had discovered mass graves at hospitals raided by Israeli troops.

The White House — which under President Joe Biden has continued to send aid and weapons to Israel months after the International Court of Justice ruled that Palestinians in Gaza were at risk of experiencing a genocide — responded to HuffPost’s video of the incident in a statement Friday. “Every American is an American, full stop,” deputy press secretary Andrew Bates said. “It is bigoted and outrageous to suggest that anyone should ‘go back’ anywhere. These kinds of statements degrade all of us, whether it’s telling someone to ‘go back’ to Gaza, or telling someone to ‘go back’ to Belarus and Poland, which was captured in other videos yesterday — countries where Jews were victims of the Holocaust and pogroms. President Biden stands against hateful rhetoric, and believes we must constantly respect the dignity of all people, regardless of disagreements about policy.”

The pro-Israel demonstration Thursday was helmed by a group of far-right Christian nationalist figures. Sean Feucht, the prominent MAGA pastor and musician, was the main organizer of the “Unite for Israel” rally. Feucht is closely tied to a slew of prominent Republican lawmakers, once bestowing Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis with a “Defending Freedom” award at a Miami “Let Us Worship” event, meeting with Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-Ga.) on Capitol Hill, and praying over former President Donald Trump in the Oval Office. He has appeared multiple times on Fox News, is a regular on Steve Bannon’s “War Room” podcast, and is close with Jack Posobiec, the far-right influencer who has a history of making antisemitic remarks. Ahead of the rally Feucht said in a livestreamed video that the “rise” in antisemitism on college campuses was another welcome harbinger of the end days. Many American evangelicals, like Feucht, see the return of Jews to Israel as key to an End Times prophecy that would usher in the Second Coming of Christ and commence true Christians’ ascent to heaven. These evangelicals believe at that moment Jews will have to convert to Christianity or perish — a belief grounded in antisemitism. [...] Columbia’s pro-Palestinian encampment quickly became a lightning rod for accusations of antisemitism, with right-wing politicians and media figures falsely equating the students’ criticism of Israel with hatred for Jews. House Speaker Mike Johnson (R-La.) even held a press conference on campus Wednesday, calling on Biden to take action, and suggesting the president may need to summon the National Guard to end the encampment.

A pro-Israel Apartheid march led by far-right Christian nationalist Sean Feucht on Thursday at Columbia University in New York featured inflammatory chants aimed at anti-Gaza Genocide protesters such as "go home, terrorists" and "Go back to Gaza".

[calf-cover]

I suddenly wanted to share some of my thoughts and headcannons. Maybe it's in the wake of the fact that the other day I was working on a Script Bible for my project, maybe I just need to unload. And the other day I came across alchemical illustrations that awakened long-standing associations in me. But the fact remains, meet:

The Mini-Analysis of the Alchemical Aspect of Alagadda (part 1)

We will walk through the Lords of Alagadda, as well as touch on the Ambassador - because yes, most likely even our favorite non-binary narcissistic maniac on louboutins can actually also be associated with alchemy. There will be both reflections on the possible meaning in the canon, and far-reaching headcannons, but I tried to differentiate them as much as possible. 

Let's go! Commence with the Black Lord

*The second part is here*

Let's start in order. It is no longer a secret to anyone that each Lord represents a stage of Great Work. Regarding this, we can also find an interesting thing. Firstly, each alchemist had his own Great Work and described it with deviations from what we usually see on the very first page of wikipedia. Secondly, they were very fond of saying that the Great Work is not about matter, but about spirit and ascension to the divine, these are the stages through which a person passes on the way to perfection. I don't think, however, that it will be very useful for us to analyze, given the perverted nature of Alagadda. But there's no harm in trying, right?

The Black Lord, Wearer of the Mask of Anguish, personifies Nigredo. This is the first stage - decomposition and death. The descent to primordial chaos. Before starting work, it was necessary to dissolve the material, "turn it into water" (which we see in the abilities of the Lord!)

From a spiritual point of view, this is the overthrow of the old, the acceptance of the experience of death, which gives rise to the death of illusions. Therefore, it is designated by the Raven - a regular of the cemetery. Also its symbol is Saturn, the planet of material issues, mundanity and at the same time destruction.

And perhaps we know the most about this Lord. And he appears to us... as a very controversial personality. Our familiar Lord likes to destroy not only objects. He likes to destroy people's minds themselves, which he even often brags about. Every person has illusions that are simply necessary to help them survive and not go crazy. And, perhaps, based on the nature of his stage it is them that he puts an irreversible end to, then replacing them with whatever he wants. Also, considering his condition and exile, we can say that he himself "died", but was “reborn” and came into the form that we know now. And he feels just fine, which also corresponds to his nature - Nigredo's goal is to build something new, to be reborn from the ashes. Let's just be happy for him.

Also, his nature already gives us a lot of suspicions about the possible reasons for his exile. Maybe he destroyed some illusion that he should never have destroyed? Maybe it's the very essence of him? According to one of the stories, Allagadda must, with all its connection with death, deeply hate it and oppose it. Even (and even more so!) crows could become the object of burning hatred. And here is he - its actually embodiment, a fundamental reminder of the true nature of things...

But most of all I like the idea that he just got everyone terribly, because he was an asshole and torment the entire ruling staff lol.

My personal headcanon is a little deeper and goes back to the times when there were very few materials on Alagadda. In my interpretation, the expulsion of the Black Lord is the result of many factors, ranging from personal (considering that despite all their abilities, my Lords turned out to be very human), and ending with just complex processes and interference of forces from the outside. I want to pay attention to one detail. All my lords are almost monochrome, they zealously adhere to their colors - but their masks and their secretions are only white and black. We are all used to masks. But let's talk about the color of the liquids flowing off them. At first, black color of the liquid was originally a consequence of my ignorance. But later turned into one of the plot-forming elements and it became just a pity to cut it out. In fact, this laid the foundation for a large-scale arch, an arch of mystery about why the Lords are forced to endure burns of black poison and what is the meaning of this. So I'm even grateful to myself for this delusion!

Also an interesting detail is that my Black Lord wears an outfit entirely made of feathers, a hat topped with crow's feet, and severed crow wings are sewn on his belt. In my case, Allagadda hates ravens, and such an appearance conveys to him exactly the look of the executioner hung with trophies, linking him with his symbol without contradictions. Well, at least I hope so... And if you are afraid for one particular bird, then you are doing the right thing. Mask has never been merciful to someone who has done him a favor.

Also, my Black Lord is actually intersex on a par with the White Lord. It's just that the latter did not see the point in choosing any gender in which they could be talked about, which attracted much more attention and jokes from the Red Lord. They gets all the barbs, while the Black Lord, as a close relative, is actually the same. But if the Red Lord tries to prick him, he will lose all his piercing with the parts to which it is attached.

[camilbarnessss]

¤ The Dance of The Dragons ¤

{ Aemond Targaryen }

《 Part 15 》

The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.

《 The Invitation's Second Season 》

Masterlist

Warnings: constant swearing, references to sex, angst and grief, mentions of death, HIGHLY EXPLICIT DEATH, mentions of blood, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated ♡♡♡

In Storm’s End, watchers on the castle walls saw distant blast of flame, and would hear shrieks cutting the thunders. Everyone that knew which dragons had taken off from Darren’s Defiance imagined the same: the two beasts were locked together, lightning crackling around them.

■ ■ ■

《 Calm before the storm that already thundered 》

Vhagar was five times the size of her foe, the hardened survivor of a hundred battles. If there was a fight, it could not have lasted long. Though we did see what happened between the dark clouds, and so we can attest that the Fight above Shipbreaker Bay lasted more than perhaps ten minutes. Too little time for ones, mayhap, but let us remember The Queen of All Dragons could’ve easily ended the confrontation within a snap; it was prince Lucerys and his great rider skills than bought him and his dragon more time of life.

Yet, Arrax’s few remaining members fell, broken, to be swallowed by the storm-lashed waters of the bay. A leg and half-tail of his washed up beneath the cliffs below Storm’s End just hours after his butchering, to make a feast for crabs and seagulls.

So many theories arose between whisperers, in the years to come. Some claim that Prince Lucerys’ corpse washed up as well, and tells us that Prince Aemond cut out his eyes and presented them to Lady Maris Baratheon on a bed of seaweed. We know that’s excessive, and very much a lie.

Some say Vhagar snatched Lucerys off his dragon’s back and swallowed him whole. We know ‘tis the true version. It has even been claimed that the prince survived his fall, swam to safety, but lost all memory of who he was, spending the rest of his days as a simpleminded fisherman. Gods be good.

We shall give all these tales the respect they deserve…which is to say, none. Lucerys Velaryon, the sweet boy we lived, laughed and fought with since the commence of this story, died with his dragon. Our brother was fourteen years of age. His body was never found, though we yet may see that.

With his death, the war of ravens and envoys and marriage pacts came to an end, and the war of fire and blood began in earnest. But we will wait for the narration of this war a little longer. Believe us: the longer we postpone it, the better for our hearts.

Now we are up to date, knowing what is happening on each of the different sides of our history. We saw Jace and Daera conquering The Vale, we saw Aemond's and Luke's experiences in Storm's End, we saw Rhaenyra along her Black Council, and we saw Daeron arriving to King's Landing.

Now, let us turn back to him.

The youngest son of King Viserys I and his second wife, Alicent Hightower, is now at moments in the Godswood of the castle.

The prince, who’s just days away from turning eight-and-ten, is seated on a bench made of fine stone. From here, he feels a cold breeze and looks up at the white round moon, lightly smiling to it from his distance. The night is a quiet one that has brought him to reflections and thoughts.

His eldest brother, Aegon, is King of the Seven Kingdoms, sits the Iron Throne and is the highest authority of all Westeros. His elder sister has two beautiful children and is with child again, serving as a perfect wife to her husband. His elder brother, Aemond, flies about the realm to gain support for their brother’s throne.

Daeron can’t help but to think that his family is the freaking best. It only takes a glance to realize it; look at what everyone’s up to! There are times that the young man whishes dearly that he had grown here instead of Oldtown. He’d know them better, and he wouldn’t have had to ride Tessarion always alone in the skies. “How would it have been?”, he dreams.

The boy doesn’t know his luck.

-Daeron!-, a voice suddenly calls him. The prince stops smiling at the moon and turns around his face with tranquility, blinking quietly.

Dowager Queen Alicent nears to him with nervous steps, looking around anxiously while approaching with quickness. All of her jewelry clinks as she walks.

-What are you doing out here?!-. The Queen whispers, raising her brows as she reached to him, standing in front of her youngest son, who just shrugged-. It is dark and cold out here, and you alone-. She raises her brows.

-It is fresh-, he shrugges again, gifting her a little smile. Alicent shakes her head briefly, looking around-. The Godswood is always a good place to think, mother, which is what I am doing, do not need to worry-. The prince speaks funnily, cocking his head while looking at her.

-You must be tired, from your flight, Daeron-. The Dowager Queen speaks along little sighs, lightly moving her arms at the sides of her body.

-Sort of-. The boy shrugges, once again, showing no distress at all on his eyes. He’s so different from his mother-. I realized…Aegon didn’t make a feast, as he said he would-. He notices, lightly narrowing his eyes towards her.

Alicent briefly presses her lips, raising her brows a little and beginning to nod.

-The King came to the realization that holding a banquet was not appropriate for the evening-. She attests, crossing her hands over her belly-. He found it best to…behold his wishes-, she showed a quick smile.

That was a lie. She hasn’t even seen Aegon since they were at The Iron Throne Hall and he declared a feast was to be taking place in The Red Keep. Truth be told, “the King” got drunk, forgot about his idea, and kept getting drunk.

-Ah, wise-. Daeron smiles, nodding. His mother nods in silence, starting to wonder where her eldest son may be now. She spent great time of the day in the High Sept, praying, so she wouldn’t know-. Mother-, he appears before her eyes again.

Alicent breathes in deeply, getting off her deep thoughts. Daeron blinks while looking at her, noticing the strong grip on her own hands and how tense her shoulders are. He wonders whether she’s cold or anxious.

-Care to sit with me?-, he proposes, leaning to the right, and making space for her on the bench.

-I rather stand-. His mother answered, preferring to have a clear sight of the whole garden itself, which is still lonely, only the two of them here-. Thank you, dearest-. She’s quick to add, glancing at him.

Daeron accepted her decision with no offense, but still kept the space for her. The prince breathes calmly through his nose staring at the moon once again. There is silent for some time, in which he got thoughtful, and she kept looking around.

-May I ask you something?-. The queen’s son questions, still looking at the white circle in the sky.

Alicent pressed her scrunched lips, immediately assuming that he’s to ask about the situation at presence. The war.

-You may, son-. She allowed after gulping, maintaining a serious expression.

Dowager Queen wonders what he’d ask. “What would happen to us if Rhaenyra steals my brother’s throne?”, “How are our defenses?”, “Why didn’t you fight back to Rhaenys and her dragon?”, “Will someone kill me and my siblings?”.

-Did my father suffer, mom?-. Daeron asked, blinking slowly. In that moment, Alicent became speechless, parting her ever-pressed lips. Haven’t expected that question at all, she looks down to him with eyes that started to show emotion-. Did he suffer much…before parting?-. He furrows his brows lightly, gulping.

There’s true worriness on her child’s eyes; he truly feels for the father that barely paid him any sort of attention. He is not resentful. He…truly is completely different from his brothers.

Alicent licks her lips, thinking of her words before speaking them, under the purple eyes of her Valyrian son.

-We did everything in our and the Gods’ power so that your father didn’t suffer-. Alicent answered with tones of sweet, sugar-coating King Viserys’ sickness-. We cared for him…until the very end-. She assured, gifting him a slow honest smirk.

When hearing so, Daeron sighed, forming a smile as well.

-I am glad-, he whispers-. I am thankful-. The prince looks to her with relieve-. I know he is too, mom…-. Daeron promised with gentleness, raising a hand, and holding one of his mother’s.

Alicent curves her brows, sniffing her nose. Her shoulders slouched and her lips smiled sadly to him. She looks at the boy with a troubled love, honestly not understanding how is it that he can be so good.

Feeling a great deal of easiness while being with her youngest child, Dowager Queen Alicent prayed for forgiveness from the gods, and then lied to him.

-He oft asked for you, your father-. Alicent softly says. She saw Daeron’s immediate surprise and how he instantly smiled. That made her to show her teeth.

-Did he?-, the young princeling asks, wide-eyed and smiley, wanting more than ever to had been here much much sooner.

-He did, many a time-. His mother whispers tenderly, gripping his hand, and caressing his white hair with other. Daeron sincerely smiles to her, lifting his blushed cheeks.

Alicent loves him.

-And did he also…?-

-You ought to sleep, my love-. The Queen interrupted him with a funny reproachful tone, raising her brows. The prince inevitably chuckles, standing up from the bench. She had to look up; all her children are taller than her.

-I shall then-. Daeron agrees, caressing her fingers. Alicent smiles softly to him, blinkless, appreciating his manly features yet all his soft-hearted gestures-. Good night, mom-. He leans forward, placing a sweet kiss on one of her cheeks.

While her son kisses her cheek, and she kisses back one of his, a part of Alicent starts to regret having sent him to bed, and whishes to keep chatting and feeling this kind of tranquility. But she’s also right; her son must rest.

-Sleep well-, she whispered, caressing his fingers with love.

-My queen!-. A startled voice called her from one second to another, Cole’s.

Mother and son both turned their heads with easiness. Still holding hands, Alicent has calm in her eyes and Daeron a little smile on his lips.

-Ser Criston-, the Queen greets him with raised brows. The knight looks highly relieved, walking into the Godswood.

-Worry not, my mother was not alone here-. The prince talks with a funny smile, starting to walk towards the stiff knight. From behind, still standing in front of the bench, her mother chuckles. The sound surprised her Sworn Protector-. Please see that my mom reaches her bedchambers safely, Ser-. He asks.

-I shall see it done, my prince-. Cole immediately agreed. Daeron winks an amused eye.

-Ser Criston-, he farewelled him with a respectful nod, smiling.

-My prince…-, the knight mumbled, nodding back to him.

After a last smile, Daeron left the Godswood. After her child left, Queen Alicent blinked many a time, and the smile on her face got erased. Feeling again her usual uneasiness, she gulped and breathed heavily.

She turns around and approaches to her Sworn Protector, who quickly walked towards hers as well, armored as always.

-Has something happened, Ser Criston?-. She asks distressedly.

-Nothing, Your Grace-. He quickly answered, standing firmly while looking at her-. I had been looking for you for a while, my Queen. Couldn’t find you-. The knight explained his former anguish.

When hearing no bad new, and the man’s worriness, the Queen sighed and closed her eyes for a few seconds, relieved but still stressed.

-I was at the Sept praying, Ser Criston-. Alicent informed, scratching her forehead and making her bracelets to jingle.

Cole pressed his lips, staring at her with his brown big eyes, which blinked two times with growing unquietness. He takes a step closer, making her to open her eyes when he suddenly whispered.

-I beg your pardon for my boldness, Your Majesty, but you should not be wandering alone, neither outside the castle gates nor at night-. He mumbled with shame but insistence, looking over her shoulder while talking.

-The Sept is safe-, Alicent shakes her head briefly, making her long curly red mane to bounce with her while a troubled smile.  

-…Yet these are not safe times, Your Grace-. The brown-haired knight murmured, this time looking down at her, with loosen brows and blinkless eyes.

Dowager Queen Alicent’s eyes started to became wary. She presses her lips, recalling the events that took place in the Dragonpit, where The Queen Who Never Was and her dragon Meleys broke the pit’s floors, rumbled roars of war, and nearly slashed their fury above all Alicent’s family, if it hadn’t been until a sudden change of heart from the Princess Rhaenys. Only her sudden mercy saved their lives, after attempting against them.

That’s when Alicent gulps, truly understanding his meanings. Cole stares at her with the same worried shame.

-I am your Sworn Protector, my Queen-. He recalled, justifying the advice he just gave her.

-You’re right-. Her airy and weary voice agreed with him, nodding-…you are-. She expanded her lips into a close sad grin.

Softly, Cole nods, lightly lifting the sides of his lips. She did the same and, with this, Queen and Sworn Protector gifted each other tiny but sincere smiles under the white light of the moon.

The redhead woman sighed through her nose, crossing her hands over her belly, and taking a last look around.

-Walk with me, Ser Criston-. She asks, beginning to walk calmly. Doubtlessly, he followed her by her side, as always.

They got into the castle, now walking among the great pale red walls of The Red Keep, having the light of multiple torches along their way.

Queen Alicent sighs, staring front.

-I wanted Daeron to come to King’s Landing not only to have the many dragons as possible with us, but to have him with us too-. She comments, briefly raising her brows under the listen of her guard-…Wanted to be able to see with mine own eyes that he was safe-, she mumbles, looking around as they walk.

Criston looks sideways at her for a second, silently moved by how she talks about her younger son. Seconds the, she sighed, highly heavily.

-Although, now that he is indeed here, I must confess a certain…uneasiness, regarding his safeness…-Alicent mumbles. Cole furrows his brows, looking at her-. I now doubt whether if The Red Keep is the best place to accomplish so-. She admitted, glancing at her feet for a second-. Wonder if it’s safe for any of us-, she quickly murmured, breathing with heaviness.

-The Keep is strong, Your Grace-. Criston is quick to assure and slow to agree with her, in this case. The Queen gulps, gently side-eyeing him while they walk-. So are our men at arms, our dragons and our defenses-. He firmly listed, sure of his words. He stares at her, closing his lips for a quick second-. And so are you, my Queen-. The knight added with confidence.

Alicent stops walking, looking at the floor. Ser Criston stopped too, standing straight and firmly. The Queen gulped, turning her head to look at him. She took a glance around, seeing that they were alone, and afterwards approached to steps closer to him.

Cole almost felt his heart bursting out from his chest.

-We deserve naught of this paranoia, Ser Criston-. The Queen murmured, shaking her head-. The Iron Throne by rights must pass to His Grace’s eldest trueborn son-, she insisted with wide eyes, opening her hands and moving them tightly.  

-As it has always been, Your Grace-. He quickly nods.

-Not to mention that it was my late husband’s desires, his own words! And…and his brother, Rhaenyra’s husband, no other than Daemon…we all know that one’s nature-. Alicent afflicts her throat with sincere fright. His eyes got cold when thinking of The Rogue Prince.

-Make no mistake, should Rhaenyra ever sit the Iron Throne, it will be Lord Flea Bottom who rules us-. Ser Criston mumbled with sourness, clenching his armored hands to the sides of his robust body.

-A king consort as cruel and unforgiving as Maegor ever was-. Queen Alicent whispered with bitterness. Criston hums, remembering the stories Aemond has read him of Maegor The Cruel, his Black Brides and his reigning years of terror-…Under his judgement, my father’s head will be the first cut off, I do not doubt it, but your Queen, myself, will soon follow-. She spoke with a low voice, constantly curving her brows.

-Your Grace-, he makes a disgusted worried face, scowling at her.

-Nor will their spare my children-. Alicent declared, gulping so strongly, and blinking with so much fright when saying it. Even the harsh Criston shivered when thinking of that-. Aegon and his brothers are the king’s trueborn sons, with a better claim to the throne than her brood of…plain-featured boys-. Even after Viserys’ death, she can’t find herself capable of saying the word “bastard” out loud, yet no still-. Daemon will find some pretext to put them all to death. Even Helaena and her little ones…-, she whispered, having fright on her eyes. Cole clenched his jaw-. One of her boys put out my Aemond’s eye, never forget, though he was a boy-. She remembers, speaking in whispers.

-He was a boy, aye, but the boy is the father to the man, and bastards are monstrous by nature-. Ser Criston didn’t have the Queen’s sensibility towards the word, and spoke it plainly and without shame. The redhead parted her lips, not stopping him-. Should the princess reign, Your Grace, Jacaerys Velaryon would rule after her; Seven save this realm if we seat a bastard on the Iron Throne-. He spoke bitterly, in whispers.

-And Daera Targaryen by his side-, The Queen whispered too with sourness. Criston pressed his lips harshly when hearing that name-. We can only expect the worst from that girl too, for she’s no different than her tribe-, she denied while shaking her head from one side to another-. What she did to those man in The Vale…butchered them whole…-, Alicent narrows her eyes, recalling that great fuss from those years.

-As her father did to our city as well-. Cole remembered when The Prince of The City took his Gold Cloaks and dismembered nearly half of the capital’s smallfolk, punishing thieves, offenders, rapists and all kinds of evildoers.

Alicent strongly clenches her teeth, approaching one step closer, and whispering even lower.

-And she did it again…when she was here…-, she informed. Criston opens his furrowed eyes bigly, listening closely-. Ash and bone were taken to Flea Bottom by the breeze, from the coast where her dragon always nests-. Alicent whispers, narrowing her eyes-. The same day that she arrived to court with a brain-stained dress and tears of red on her hair-. She pointed out, recalling.

Criston immediately remembers that day, and how she walked into the hall of the Iron Throne with a cocky smile, all bathed in blood. Moments later, her father, The Rogue Prince, was decapitating Ser Vaemond Velaryon.

Alicent gulps, remembering the detailed report that the master of whisperers and Lord Confessor, Lord Larys “Clubfoot” Strong, brought to her about the mine of ashes on Kalistrox’s nest, and the smallfolk that attested to have heard voices of despair pleading for mercy in the air.

-…A bastard and a madwoman ruling the Seven Kingdoms…-, Ser Criston’s murmur came with sourness and angriness whilst he shook his head-. Unforgiving-, he denied.

-It is not just that it cannot be, but that it is not what should-. Queen Alicent raises her brows, insistent-. That chair belongs to my son-, she places a hand on her chest, over her heart-…It always has. Viserys told it to me…long ago too-. She confessed, blinking slowly.

When that came to be said, Ser Criston grew confused, not understanding the “long ago”, for the King died just recently. Alicent opens her mouth, but closes it quickly when seeing a brown-skinned servant walking nearby.

The Queen and her Protector remained silent. The servant, carrying a lemon cake on her hands, bowed her head and quickly walked away, soon turning on a corner and going elsewhere.

Alicent licks her lips, and breathes in deeply, looking at him again.

-Your Grace-, he whispers and nods, listening to her.

-When I was pregnant with Helaena…Viserys told me about a dream of his, a dream that- well, a dream that he had when Queen Aemma was still alive-. She whispered, surprising the knight, for he thought about how long ago that was-. He dreamed of a son birthed to him, being crowned!-. Alicent curved her brows, speaking with passion. Ser Criston parted his lips, shocked-. My husband expressed to me how much he desired that to be truth, how he saw in that dream The Conqueror’s crown placed on his son’s head and his sword on his hand-. The Queen recalls as if it has been yesterday, as it has been moments ago, and not more than twenty years-…He said he wanted it…-, she murmured slowly, blinkless, remembering that night.

Ser Criston, speechless, watches her every move and listens to her every word. This just reassures everything they’re fighting for; he thinks.

-He told me on Aegon’s second nameday-. Alicent confessed, closing her eyes for a few moments. Criston opened his widely, instantly remembering those times, that night, that hunt in the Kingswood where Rhaenyra made a fuss out of her emotions, as always, drowning herself in a cup of water.

Cole parts his lips, taking the information in. Moments then, he speaks.

-Prince Aemond once told me about the dreams some Targaryen have…-, he recalls with a low voice, and she starts to nod-. If I’m not mistaking…Daenys the Dreamer dreamed Old Valyria’s doom-. The knight says, thoughtful.

-Which happened, eventually, within the years; Daenys’ dream was true-. Alicent quickly nods, raising her brows. He gulps; he has always been kind of fascinates -to not say intimidated- by the Targaryens and their history-. Viserys’ is too-. She thinly whispers, from the bottom of her heart. Her knight looks at her with big secure eyes.

-It will be, my Queen-. He nods under the crystal hazel gaze of hers-. I shall be by your side and your children’s, until my last breath, Your Grace-. Fiercely, he promised, never blinking.

Alicent curves her brows, and gulps. She appreciates it heartily, closing her eyes while nodding. The Queen sighs with distress, caressing her forehead, realizing just now that she had been sweating.

-I thank you, Ser Criston…-. A soft whisper left her lips. He nods with determination.

Dowager Queen Alicent gulps, and then starts to form a smile on her closed lips. A minute then, she opens her eyes, and looks at him.

-…Helaena is with child-, she informed with an easy mumble. Ser Criston instantly froze; any firm look on him faded away and his eyes immediately shined with surprise and happiness, his mouth went open.

Such expression from her serious guard made the Queen laugh openly, which she rarely does.

-Maester Orwyle says her course is three moons already-. Alicent whispered with great emotion.

Ser Criston took the liberty to laugh, curving his brows, and clenching his teeth with excitement and pride.

And, as they speak of Helaena, let us turn to her…

Queen Helaena’s handmaiden, Claudia, delivered a small-sized lemon cake to the Queen’s chambers when she asked her for that favor. Claudia recalled it was not a favor but a duty for her to obey her commands; Helaena pointed out that not when it was this late and she should be asleep.

Nevertheless, the kind Claudia had not trouble in bringing the dessert to her rooms. After thanking her, and gifting her a slice of the cake, Helaena took the pastry into her bedchambers, having a shining smile on her lips, showing all her teeth.

The Queen sliced two slices of cake. Now we find her kneeled on the bed and, in front of her, are her two children. The twins both excitedly see their mother handing them a slice of lemon cake for them to enjoy; she was giggling as she handed it to them.

-Happy name day…-, Helaena whispered with a glim of love on her purple eyes.

Jaehaerys was the first one to cheer, shrieking and immediately starting to eat. Jaehaera soon followed, taking a big bite of cake with a smile on her face. Kneeled and slouched in front of them, Helaena scrunched her nose into a smile and clapped excited.

The mother sees how her twins enjoy their dessert. The hour has grown late, indeed, but it seems that neither of them are sleepy. In the solitude and darkness of the bedchambers, Queen Helaena is happy to share this moment with her children, who are already a year now. Time flies…

While they eat calmly, the Queen sweetly pushed the twin’s heads with softness and neared them to her to place tender kisses on both their cheeks. She laughed so happily when feeling the kids kissing her too, leaving crumbs of cake on her pale skin.

After kissing their mother, they went on with their dessert.

-Oh-, Helaena giggles with sweetness, passing a thumb in Jaehaera’s lips to clean some crumbs-. Messy girl-, she whispered along funny chuckles.

-Um-, Jaehaera emits amusing sounds while her mother cleans her-. Daera-, a sudden babble left her lips.

In that moment, the white-haired woman froze, slowly getting away her hand from her girl.

-Yes-, she silly whispers.

-Daera-. ‘Twas Jaehaerys now who spoke.

-UH- Yes!!-. Their mother laughs, covering her mouth that smiled greatly.

Helaena blinks in shock, not believing that they had just named Daera; they haven’t seen her for days already, and still said her name for the first time, perfectly and- and she’s not here to listen.

Helaena feels her lips starting to tremble, and bitter tears coming up to her sudden sad eyes while she still smiles. The Queen feels her children miss their aunt. And for the love of whoever god that exists, she does too. Daera hasn’t left her mind nor heart since the last time she saw her. She just never leaves.

But now they’re apart, far away and completely oblivious to when they shall see each other again. These quarrel between their families, these stupid acts…

Helaena sobs weakly, closing her sad eyes while her lips curved down. She weeps Daera’s name, yearning and longing for her. What’s happening scares her so much, and what’s to come scares her even deeper. It is not worry about herself she worries; is about the ones she loves…the ones that are far in more danger.

“Daera, Daera, Daera…”

It seems that Helaena got so excited when Claudia brought her the lemon cake, that when she closed the door and walked to her twins with pure happiness, forgot to lock.

The doors are opened without notice, making the Queen to quickly turn around her head, still slouched on the bed. Entering to her chambers she found her King husband, arriving with weary steps, baggy eyes, long thin scarring wounds in his arms, and a great bulk on his pants.  

Helaena’s face instantly became paler than usual, and her throat afflicted. Her husband grumbles, delicately closing the doors of the bedchamber. He did lock.

-Come-, his hoarse voice fills the room. Her superior lip tremble, looking at his red tired eyes-. Come-, he did a soft hand gesture to her.

-‘Tis the children’s birthday-. She is quick to say, weakly and fearful, blinkless.

-Helaena, I said come-. The King raises his brows. He limped for a second, too drunk to keep a straight posture-. Come, come, come-. He tsks his tongue, hating she was so still.

-Not in front of them please-. The Queen wept with a shaky voice.

Impatient and chaotic, Aegon II growled with despair and shot out walking quickly towards the bed of the room. Queen Helaena gasped and fastly came down of it from the other side. The children’s father grunts, clashing his hands on the mattress with distress.

After rapidly glancing at the children, the Queen turned around and ran further from there; thus, he followed her and got away from the kids.

-When I tell you to come…!-, Aegon left the rest of his words in the air, spitting on the floor as he ran foolishly to her, nearly stumping.

Helaena breathes fastly, coming out to the balcony with fast steps and scared eyes. She looks everywhere within a second, clearly knowing she got no way out. When she looked down for a millisecond, she saw the spikes below Maegor’s Holdfast.

-…YOU COME!!-. Aegon reached her angrily, surprising her from behind, and grabbing her wrists with great strength.

Queen Helaena gasped airless when he touched her, nearly breaking her neck when she looked up as if she was burned in a pyre. She looked up, and yet what she saw wasn’t the moon nor the stars.

She saw a thousand hanging men of blue, red and green flowing blood.

She saw her mother standing on the shore of a lake.

She saw a white curly mane burning.

Aegon made Helaena to end on the floor, forcing her to sit, only to then crawl over her, pressing his manhood against her shaky closed legs. His queen cries with fear, eyes-closed, shaking her head while mumbling nonsenses.

-They dance…-. Helaena cries with a broken voice, suddenly gasping for air and opening her eyes. She finds Aegon on top of her; she feels his kisses on her neck and his hand searching for her womanhood-. N-no! No! No!-. She shrieks as an agonizing hart, wanting to crawl away from his touch.

-Ay no no no, Helaena, you- Just stay quiet, bitch-. Aegon tsks his tongue with so much annoyance, babbling out his words, keeping her wrists prisoners of his hands.

Helaena’s red throat pains while she cries endlessly, strongly closing her eyes while her tits are being licked and her skirt lifted. The Queen lets out a scared sob, now moveless. Her husband sighed with the smile of a fool, feeling her warm body.

With a hand, Aegon gets his cock out and taps it against his wife’s thighs, making her to squeal with great horror. She grunted a cry and nearly turned around to craw far from him, but he quickly let go of his member and grabbed both her hands again.

-No!-, a broken sob leaves the Queen’s itchy throat.

-I came here to fuck-. Aegon smiles charmingly, looking down at her with his red eyes-. Not to be suffocated by all this fucking weeping!-, he erased his smile and whispered right to her face with anger.

Helaena sobs, pressing her trembling lips, looking at her greatest nightmare talking above of her; he’s a demon paralyzing her.

-Your running away’s from me are at an end-. Aegon growls maniacally, violently pushing one of her legs, opening them. Helaena cries endlessly, shaking her head from side to side-. I am King now-, he whispers bitterly.

He harshly gripped her chin, squeezing it, and from a moment to another penetrated her dry womanhood within a second, completely entering it. The Queen let out a cry so hurted, afflicting her throat and showing her teeth with pain.

On the other hand, The King afflicted his throat with pleasure, and showed his teeth when he smiled madly.

-Oh, yeah-. He moans, thrusting into her time after time.

Unable to cry out loud due to the hand squeezing her mouth and chin, The Queen can’t but cry silently, moveless and speechless, only hoping for it to be over already.

-You…-, King Aegon II’s red eyes of madness stared right at hers. She’s now realizing that there’s blood under his left eye-. You are to serve me, sister-. He declared with a cough and a smile.

Helaena sobs terribly, feeling all of his violent thrusts, his violent grip. The Queen, weakly, could glance at her children for one quick second. She cried harder when finding them watching at them with parted lips; they’re no longer eating cake.

Queen Helaena weeps with great terror, closing her eyes strongly.

A thousand hanging men of blue, red and green flowing blood.

Her mother standing on the shore of a lake.

A white curly mane burning.

-They danc-…!-. Helaena whines while her husband moans with a smile, trying his best to ignore her and just enjoy of her body-. They dance with crooked shoes!-, a broken sob left her throat.

-SHUT IT!-. Done with her nonsense, King Aegon punched his Queen right in her head.

And so Helaena was plunged into temporary darkness; she found calm.

■ ■ ■

Be welcomed to The Neck.

The narrow isthmus that connects the North to the rest of Westeros.

We’re now right beyond the border of the riverlands; we’re now officially in the North. Winds have change, of course; the wind is colder and harsher, dry but at the same time it makes one’s forehead sweat.

The swamplands of the Neck are by far the largest in all of Westeros, making it a rather unique biome. During day you can appreciate deep green trees, a lot of moss everywhere, and frogs jumping all around. However, ‘tis nighttime now, and the moonlight is not enough to light the lushness at its best.

Jace, Daera and their dragons had flown as discreetly as possible between the clouds of the night, for they didn’t want anyone to see them; they succeeded. The princes and their dragons took place as deeply in the swamp as possible, away enough from any camp and small civilization they checked from the skies. After wandering above the woods for some time, they decided upon a clean spot clean of mud or subterranean caves -at least cleaner the other spots-.

To their better accommodation, they opened in the ground as many of the bedsheets they could. They left two apart to cover themselves when they went to sleep, and with the remaining made an improvised mattress, not royally thick but neither too thin. In a free-of-sheet spot they left in the middle, they lighted a modest fire with a gentle sigh from Vermax.

With their “camp” now established, the princes are lying in their improvised mattress of fur. Both Daera and Jace have their heads resting in their luggage, using them as pillows. Both of them also have their respective dragon right by their side, keeping them warmer and safer. Basically, they’re surrounded by their dragons, who’re also lying in the ground.

Jacaerys is nearly falling asleep, tenderly watched by Vermax, who’s face is resting by his, breathing calmly too. On the other side, Daera has a golden tall wall by her. Kalistrox head rests over a fallen tree whilst his tail is nearly reaching the shore of a lake that is far from them. You cannot even imagine how uncomfortable it was for him to land in the swamp, watching to not mess with any tree. Matters to say that the one he’s resting his chin in is one of three he accidentally threw with one of his horns.

The Rogue Princess, playing with the handles of both her sword and her new dagger, which both remain strapped to the belt on her waist, watches her dragon with dearness. She raises a hand; her sweet fingers and palm caress Kalistrox’s limbs, lightly scratching them. The Golden Ray sighed loudly and purred with gentleness, blinking slowly. His princess smiled quietly.

The dragon’s sound made prince Jacaerys to open his sleepy eyes within a second, for they took him out of his nearing sleep. He breathes in with tiredness, humming lowly and scratching his eyes.

-Ouh shit-, the princess turns her head to look at him-. Sorry, did I wake you up?-. She whispers with same, scrunching her nose.

-No no, I was just resting my eyes-. The prince answers with a kind smile, and a hoarse sleepy voice. His sister snorts a little laugh, curving his brows-. Hmmm…-, he sighs again, crossing his arms behind his head-. They still ought to eat-, he remembers.

-Uhum-, his wife nods, eyeing Kalistrox while still caressing him. Jace lifts his gaze towards the Golden Dragon, feeling that it is a fortress that he’s looking at, for the beast is so tall and thick. He gulped, having the greatest of respects for his siter’s dragon.

-…He’s growing by the second, I think-. Prince Jacaerys murmured after some moments of quietness. Not looking at him, Daera lifted her lips into a small prideful smile.

-He is-, she agrees, whispering while scratching his limbs.

-Does he still fits in the Pit?-. He questions with curiosity, narrowing his eyes.

-I think he still does, at least he did the last time-. Daera shrugges, cocking her head-. Barely-, she quickly pointed, lifting a finger.

-‘Tis no wonder to me-. Jace mumbles, watching at his impeccable golden scales. He presses a smile, caressing Vermax’s horn with slowness.

Daera looks at Kalistrox distanced face. Her dragon eyed back at her, which made her to smile, kindly lifting her lips as a mother to her child would when seeing him laugh. The dragon purrs and closes his eyes, at ease.

The princess keeps staring at him, slowly becoming thoughtful. Jace looks at her again, finding her purple eyes looking at the fire interestedly; she looks beautiful.

-Do you remember that time when we were in the Dragonmont, walking over Vermithor’s nest?-. Daera asks from a moment to another, turning his head to look at him.

-Yes-, Jace quickly answers with an easy tone, raising his brows-. The other day when Daemon dared us to walk into the cave, and you almost did?-. He narrows his eyes with a playful smile.

-Haha-, his sister cackles two times. Jace chuckles, curving his brows-. That day-, she nods-. Well, did you know that…? Ah-. The princess accommodates herself better, turning her body to face him completely. Jacaerys did the same, interested, trying to not fix his eyes on the beautiful curve her waist has when lying sideways.

-Why?-. He questions, speaking curiously.

-I almost did because I wanted to see him, to see if Kalistrox could already be larger than him-. The princess confessed with honesty. That surprised his brother, whose eyes shined.

-Vermithor is to be said the second largest-. He murmurs, thinking of Vhagar, who is the first-. Do you think it possible?-. Jace asks with great interest.

-All the dragonkeepers from both Dragonstone and King’s Landing keep telling me these last moons is how much Kalistrox has been growing!-. The Rogue Princess speaks with a passionate hope, nodding quickly-. Vermithor barely flies out of his cave, what-…what if Kalistrox is bigger?-. She whispered, narrowing her eyes while picturing it.

-Can you imagine?-. Jacaerys smiles mesmerized, with narrow eyes too. His sister smiled, gladden with his same enthusiasm-. So, you wanted to know…-, he mumbles as he nods, recalling that day again.

-I still do-. The princess corrected him. Her brother raised his brows with acceptance, and she sucked her inferior lip with funniness.

Jacaerys gives her a cheerful smile, giggling lowly while looking at her. Daera chuckles lightly, still sucking her lips when she took a look around them.

A thousand cricket sing near them, as a hundred frogs do too. The sound of a stream soothes their ears when there is silence, which there was, until the white-haired spoke again.

-‘Tis weirdly ugly here, don’t you think?-. She comments, studying the surroundings. Prince Jacaerys did the same, only that with a growing smile on his humid lips-. Still, the northmen have never been known for a taste on eye-lusty lands-, she shrugges.

-What are they known for?-. The prince asks with an amused calmed tone. His wife makes a pout with her lips, thinking for two seconds.

-Baela once said they’re too pretty and too serious-. Daera shrugged, and he started to laugh-. I guess that sums them up pretty well-, she laughs as well.

-We shall see-. Jace raised his brows; she looked at him with cocky eyes, humming lowly when thinking about the lord they’ll be meeting soon-. And as an opposite to your statement, sister, I must admit I find certain beauty in this land-. He admitted with no shame, gaining a funny curious face from her-. Knowing something or someone’s story makes them more dazzling, I’d dare to say-. Jace nodded to a side.

-Ouh!-. Daera raises her brows-. Oh well, then…-. The princess drags herself a little closer and takes more comfort on her position, opening her eyes wide and smiling hugely when exaggerating curiosity-. I’m all ears-, she said with a funny voice.

Her brother-husband lifted his blushing cheeks and laughed. He took the liberty to also get closer, which his wife stared at with calculating smiling eyes, quietly.

-Well, there’s no much to it-. Jacaerys smiles modestly. She snorts and he grinned, rolling his eyes blank for a second-. In ancient times, the Neck was ruled by the Marsh King of the crannogmen-. And so Jace uses his “studying voice”, that he always employs whether when reading, discussing politics or -a new addition- treating with lords and ladies about alliances. Daera raises her brows, listening with a smile-. They submitted to House Stark when Rickard Stark, King in the North, defeated the Marsh King and took his daughter as wife-. He tells.

-Romantic-, she mumbles. Jacaerys licks his lips within a smile, looking down for a second.

-The crannogmen have maintained their ancient allegiance to House Stark, though…well, contact between them and the outside world has faded away to almost nothing, in these past years-. He mumbles while cocking his head, speaking softly-. Maester Gerardys told me-, he added-. But yet I know that the Starks wouldn’t even dream with disengage The Neck from them-, Jacaerys denies.

-Why not?-, she asked with a tender whisper, loving how he knows and speaks his histories by heart.

-The Neck presents a formidable tactical obstacle to anyone planning to invade the North!-. Jace responded with obviousness, raising his brown brows. She giggles and nods with great interest-. Did you know this place was instrumental in holding off the Andals during the coming of the Andals six thousand years ago?-. He asks with bemusement, shaking his head.

-Now I do-, the princess nodded, and he scoffed with marvel, now nodding.

-But, however, it is not effective against…ha, airborne dragons-. The prince said with undeniable pride, eyeing the two beast that sleep by their side.

-Such realization lead King Torrhen Stark, the last King in the North, to his decision to bend the knee to Aegon the Conqueror during the Conquest-. Princess Daera spoke with cocky smile and tone, raising her brows. Her husband licked his lips while smiling, nodding-. I used to read that story with father nearly every night, back in Pentos-. She remembers.

-Ah-, Jace smiles to her, slowly nodding.

-Hum-, Daera lets out a cute chuckle, turning her head to look at the white moon above-. The Conquest…-, she whispers-. Well, we already have something to chat about with Lord Cregan-. Daera cheers funnily.

-Aye-. The prince laughs, cheering too-. And a lot more of things-, he added.

-Yes…-. The princess breathes in deeply while looking around, not knowing that her husband is forever staring at her-. The North may not be the fastest ally, due to its location, but they surely will be the worthiest-. Daera points out with honesty, blinkless for a few second. She hears him humming, agreeing with her-…You’re right-. She mumbled.

-About what?-, he questions with a soft voice.

-Something is more dazzling when knowing its history-. Daera said into a playful sweet tone, looking at the trees and the stars above.

Blinkless, Jacaerys lifts the sides of his lips into a thoughtful expression. While feeling Vermax’s near body keeping him warm, the prince soon speaks his mind again.

-May I ask something, then, about our history?-. He questions with politeness, making her to look at him again. Her purple eyes smiled.

­-Targaryen or Velaryon? I know many-, she proposes-. Wanna hear ‘bout King Aenys I and how I would give my live to have met him?-. Her face lit up with pride.

-…Us-. The Velaryon prince softly corrected her, barely moving his lips when whispering. Daera blinks bigly, only one time, staring at him with inevitable surprise-. I mean about…us…-, he whispered. And soon, she began to nod.

-You may-, she agreed.

-On our wedding night...why didn't you consummate with me?-. Jacaerys didn’t wait to ponder his question; Daera felt time froze. He’s blushing fastly-…Why didn't we?-, he murmurs.

-I…-, Daera blinks very slowly, finding the right words while beginning to shrug her shoulders-. I think that…I think that I never had thought about it before, honestly-. She has-. Good question-. She points at him.

-Uhum-, Jacaerys nods, patiently but presently waiting for an answer.

Daera presses her lips and sighs through her nose while staring at him. The answer is far from simple and yet it consists of an only word: Aemond.

-I guess I was heart-broken-. The princess Daera answered with a low tone, shrugging-. I was…besotted with another, you see…-

She still is.

-You have always been my brother-. Daera murmurs, lightly furrowing her brows. Jace watches her with attentive eyes and listening ears-. I always loved you as so-. She points out with a soft tone, nodding-. So, to have been turned into your wife, from a day to another, well…-. The princess sighs, opening her eyes big when she sighed with pure honesty-…I didn’t desire you-. She declared.

-Now you do?-. Jace’s question was automatic, asked within a second. Daera parted her lips, surprised. It was just then that the prince realized his thoughts had slipped out of his lips. He gulps, feeling heat reaching his cheeks.

Before speaking, the prince had been thinking about what took place in the Eyrie, between them. He thought about everything: Daera grabbing his jacket’s neck and pulling him closer to her; she purring at him, pushing down his shoulder so his mouth met her womanhood; she moaned with a smile and, while caressing his brown mane between her legs, called him a good boy.

Remembering all that apparently made the prince ask his question without much anticipation. But, accepting that he already did it, he moved on, and spoke again.

-Do you feel that I am…enough?-. He questions, narrowing his brown eyes. Nerves glim in them.

In that moment, sincere curiosity glammed on Daera’s purple orbs. The princess breathed in, accommodating her shoulders on their mattress; she got closer to him, blinkless under his gaze, which follows her every move.

She didn’t answer; but made another question herself.

-From the first day we were wed, and even days before that, I noticed that…-Daera narrowed her eyes, speaking firmly and curiously-…that you did want to consummate our marriage…-, the princess murmured.

They both recall that night. They had to sleep together, as the Seven dictate it must be done on a wedding night. They shared a bed, same blanket and same big pillow. She was drinking wine, jesting, joking, giggling all around; she was content…but she never touched him. And him…well, it seemed as Jace was starving even for a kiss on his cheek, or a caress on his hair, even a blow from her breath to his lips.

-You wanted to do it-. Daera points within a mumble, blinking slowly. She sees how his cheeks has gotten redder than before; he is not blinking, looking at her while nodding lightly-. And yet, you have always seen me only as your sister-. She says, recalling the feelings he used to have for Baela, their sister, not her. They’re faded now, since a long ago, but the question still rises-…Why was it so easy for you?-. The princess asked, confused.

Jacaerys breathed in through his nose, staring at her. The reflection of the fire flames dances in her confused face, in her curious violet eyes. Her long curly mane wiggles a little too, with the wind and Vermax’s breathing. After some seconds, the prince let a sigh out.

-Because I knew who I was getting wedded to-. The Heir to the Iron Throne answered with firmness, closing his eyes. In that moment, Daera grew even more confused, tilting her head to a side-. You are one of the most beautiful maidens of the realm, if not the most. Each lord -either paramount or vassal-, each steward, servant and knight speak of your beauty everywhere I go, anywhere I step into. There have been tourneys on your honor, men fighting for your favor and bless! Quarreling to just have you to look at them!-. Jacaerys speaks with admiration, narrowing his eyes.

Daera, bemused, listens with parted lips, which started to smile with surprise and flattery while looking at him. The princess scoffs while he talks, seeing the shine on his eyes, listening to the passion in his voice.

-I took as my wife the most precious and desired woman in the Seven Kingdoms-. Jace declared, straightening his shoulders whilst he talks, slowly taking seat in the mattress. She follows him with her eyes, having her head resting on one of her hands. He looked down at her, and stuttered, blinkless. Then he sighed; his shoulders fell-… I wanted to be up to the gift of owning that-. He confessed, simple but sincere, shrugging.

Warmly, Daera looks at him, curving her brows a little. That was shortly, for then she snorted with amusement.

-Oh-, she closed her eyes and widened a sarcastic smile on her lips-. So I am a responsibility for you, huh?-. Daera questioned with fun, laughing burlesque. Jace quickly furrows his brows, shaking his head with confusion-. Tell me, brother, is everything a duty for you?-. She tauntly asks, scrunching her nose.

-You are not following-. He fastly denied, firmly. Funnily, she pressed her smiling lips and nodded with gentleness, allowing him to speak again, thinking that she’d hear more of the same-. I see you as no trophy, I swear this to you-. The prince declared with a stiff lip, never stuttering nor blinking. His sister looks at him with eyes that slowly started to lose all glim of diversion-. I see you for what you are: someone there are no two of. I wanted to be enough for you-. Jace narrowed his eyes, slouching; his face got a little closer to hers, who’s staring at him with parted lips, shocked-…I still want to-. He confessed, true and honest.

The princess stares at him with reading eyes, analyzing every expression he makes. All are sincere and filled of dearness. He is speaking his truth, perhaps for the first time since the day they were wed.

-It’s not that is my responsibility to make you happy; I know you can very well achieve it on your own account-. Jace laughed a little, raising his brows. Shocked, Daera chuckles lightly too, curving her frown while looking at him at all moments. His brown eyes are dilatated-. It’s just that…you deserve that effort from me, it is the least- the least you deserve-. Jacaerys whispers as he touches his chest with his own warm hands, tapping his ten fingers over his heart, which is beating so fastly-. And as your husband -call it “duty”, if you so like- I want to give it to you; I want to make you happy-. The prince said with pure genuineness and openness.

Bemused, Daera lift she lifts the corner of her lips, curving her brows as well while looking at him with an inevitable tenderness, and surprise. “How not to feel this moved, this warmed?” She’s speechless, for he had never been so honest before, not like this. Not this…beautifully, in search of nothing more than acceptance from her.

Taking advantage of the tremendous loneliness of the swamp, the great distance from their home, and that he has already said too much, he sent all nerves to the Seven Hells…and leaned closer to his sacred wife.

-I lust for you, Daera…-. Jacaerys confessed with the sweetest of whispers, and the warmest of eyes. Daera gasped briefly, opening her lips, looking at him with pureness, and a light smile that began to thrive on her lips. He looks at them, breathing deeply-. I love you-, he murmured, a little weak now.

It is now that everything makes sense, that everything clicked in the princess’ mind. Jacaerys, her “fake” husband, had been slowly and silently falling in love with her…and it is just now that he’s having the guts to confess it, when they are at the other side of the world, in a cold swamp with their dragons.

-Oh…-, Daera sighed, raising a hand and placing it on his neck, caressing his brown hair with her tender fingers. He breathes deeply, always staring at her-. I love you too, Jace-. She warmly said, dragging her fingers to a side of his face to caress his burning cheek. He lightly raised his brows, lost on her purple loving eyes-…I always have…-, the princess whispered, honest.

Jace scoffed, with a happiness and nerves that he couldn’t hide very well. He bit the inner of his cheeks, sucked his inferior lips, and looked down whilst trying to hide a smile, chewing it. That expression remembered her of Rhaenyra. Daera leaned her head to a side and looked at him with a dear grin, feeling how warm his cheeks are.

-Oh, for the gods’ sake…-. Daera whispers, narrowing her eyes. She is so moved; she is so happy he has told her this. Why? Why is she? How does she exactly feel about this? Why doesn’t it bother her, as their whole marriage once did?

-I know that we married off for duty, but…-. Jace speaks, looking up again. He takes both her hands, resting his chin in them. Daera snorts a cute laugh, wrinkling the sides of her eyes-. But…!-, he laughs too, caressing her fingers-…I have learned so much from you, Daera; you have taught me so much-. He declares, shaking his head and narrowing his eyes-. I only ever want your best-. Jace whispers with softness.

-And I yours, my prince…-. Daera murmured with the same tenderness as him, feeling the soft caresses on her fingers.

Jace smiled to her, not showing his teeth. Moments then, that smile slowly started to fade away, which confused her.

-What is it?-. She whispers, holding his hands tighter. He smiles lightly again, looking up at her, then gulping, then fading his smile again.

-I also wanted to ask about…about Aemond-. Jace spoke, inevitably uncomfortable, pressing his lips.

When Daera heard his name, her body froze. She didn’t see it -thank the gods she didn’t- but when Aemond was named, her eyes flickered, and afterwards they blinked with what appeared to be shame, and embarrassment. Jace did notice it, gulping.

-Can I ask?-. With honesty, the prince asked for permission, patiently. His wife looked down with sad eyes, not wanting him to see the glum in her pupils, but he is. After some silent seconds, she starts to nod, allowing him to continue.

This is the first time they have said The One-Eyed Prince’s name between them, since they got married. He had faded to Daera’s past, until now.

-It has been a year already, I think, or nearly a year-. Jacaerys mumbles, starting to caress her fingers again. She gulps strongly, thinking of Aemond and all the- the wrongs he has done to her-. Do you…do you think this was the right decision?-. And so, Jace asked with no restriction. Her lips almost trembled in that moment, looking at him with them pressed-. Us?-, he whispered.

Slowly, Daera takes her hands away from his, taking seat in front of him while crossing her arms on her chest. The prince gulps, patient. Daera looks down, feeling a great lump on her throat, and a thousand knives on her heart.

She imagines a reality where she had never really been with Aemond; one where she would have married Jace, with heart and desire, not convenience and politics. A reality where he had never followed her into Flea Bottom, nor to that alley either. A reality where she had never seduced him first, nor defended his violence and cruelty. A reality where she…had never lied to her family and dear ones.

If that were her reality, she would have saved herself from so much pain, dilemmas, arguments and fights with her family. She would have saved herself from so many tragedies. As soon as she heard of the usurpation of the Iron Throne, she and her dragon would have flown to King's Landing and would have burned them all.

When hearing Jace’s question, Daera’s head thought by its own, not sugar-coating anything. It thought this: Everything would be easier if she wasn’t in love with prince Aemond Targaryen.

To think that hurted her so much, her chest ached. Daera gulps and shakes her head from side to side, whilst her husband waits for an answer.

She smiles tinyly, looking at him.

-Had I continued walking down with Aemond…-, her eyes flickered for a second-…I’d be lost…-, she confessed within a whisper.

What hurted the most was that it is no lie, that it is no “if”. Daera Targaryen has been lost since she fell in love with Aemond Targaryen. How expensive that’s going to cost her.

-You…-, Daera takes Jace’s hands again, firmer than ever. Blinkless, he looks at her with determination and love. She gulps, wanting to cry, but not succumbing herself to it-. You are my right decision, Jace-. The princess declared with a stiff voice, looking into his brown eyes.

-Oh!-. In that moment, the prince breathed out with a huge smile, and a relieved expression. She gulps again and starts to smile as well, pampering his fingers with soft caresses-. I- I am glad to hear that-. He stutters. Daera softens her eyes, sighing while looking at him-. I was always afraid to ask; I was afraid you…you resented me-. He admitted, pressing his lips with embarrassment.

-What?-, she parts her lips, opening her eyes big.

-Hence why you- why you never slept with me-. Jacaerys stutters and shrugges, being honest with her.

-That’s not true-. Daera is quick to deny, shaking her head. She holds his hands stronger, nearing them to her chest. The brown-haired prince looks at her with heart-eyes, listening closely-. I would never, never resent you on Aemond’s behalf-. She promised with firmness-. I am not cruel…or stupid enough to do that-. Daera rolled her eyes.

Jacaerys showed his teeth, laughing tenderly. Unable to don’t too, Daera sighed and chuckled with him, closing her eyes. As soon as she did it, she saw Aemond’s face, so quickly opened them again, gulping.

Daera looks down, pressing her lips with a thoughtful gaze, under Jace’s loving one. Moments then, she breathed in and started to stand up. He quickly did so too, looking around and then at her again.

-They haven’t dined yet-. The princess spoke with a soft tone, staring at her golden awaked dragon. Jace quickly eyes Vermax, who purred, looking back at him.

-You’re right-. The prince nods, now tending all his attention to his dragon.

Daera blinks slowly, caressing Kalistrox while breathing in. She got lost on her mind, until he called her.

-Daera-, Jace named. When she turned around, got surprised when seeing him already on his saddle, ready to take flight-. Join me…-, his voice is tender and his smile a happy one, cocking his head towards the sky.

She smiles softly, looking at his brown eyes.

-I shall join you, in a minute-. The princess said-. You go ahead. I will put off the fire first-. She says, pointing at the flames with her purple eyes.

Narrowing his eyes with that smile still on his lips, Jacaerys nodded towards her, smitten.

-Sōves, Vermax-. The prince commanded him to fly with a soft mumble, patting his neck.

Within the seconds, the green dragon of yellow eyes took off from the woods, easily dodging the trees on his way, for he has the perfect size for it. Soon enough, the prince and his dragon were in the sky, looking for a proper supper for the majestic beast.

When she was left alone with her dragon, the princess Daera blinks in silence. Her eyes got lost in the humid mud, her hands on her abdomen.

Looking at the ground, she thinks of Aemond.

It feels the last time she saw him was ages ago, and it was far from a pleasing encounter. “Where do we stand now?”, she asks herself, worried and inevitably angry. He has been doing so bad, acting accord his family’s whishes and not taking hers in mind. What she said to Rhaenys before parting off Dragonstone is true; she wants to punish Aemond for his sick doings, for placing a rapist on the throne. She will, but…when? When are they to see each other again? Where, how? Is she to fly to Lovers Island and expect for him to go too? She cannot. What would they say to each other? Would he kiss her? Would he ask for forgiveness as soon as he sees her purple eyes again? Those that have always give him love and understanding. How could he have betrayed them? When will he be sorry for it? Because he will. She’s sure.

Caressing her belly, she thinks of Alyssa.

How is it that, in this world, things go on so quickly? One day she used to not see herself as a mother, then she wanted nothing but a child product of her love with her husband, then they agreed on it, the next day her husband made her to drink away that child. “How could it be?”. Daera dreamed, and lost her dream so fastly in the bat of a lash, the blink of an eye, the breaking of a heart. A babe was supposed to thrive on her royal belly, but it didn’t; perhaps the gods wanted so. “Fuck you gods then, and give me my child”, the princess cursed in her mind. Alyssa was conceived in Lovers’ Island. And the very next day, in that very same place, she was taken away.

Daera curves her brows, pressing her lips while she thinks in all of that. Feeling her deep sadness, and turning his head to look at her glum eyes, Kalistrox purred with sweetness, looking to comfort her.

-Please, don’t…-. His rider sighed with a tired voice when she heard him. The Golden Ray still purrs, lightly, as down as her. Daera shakes her head, squeezing her belly with her fingers-. You’ll make me cry, dearest…-, she said with unquietness, sniffing her nose, and forcing herself to draw her hands away from her belly-. I will not-, she declared.

He blinked slowly, looking at her. Daera straightens her shoulders, and blinks a few times; then she glanced at him.

-Jikãgon jurnegon syt issa (Go for your supper)-. The princess ordered raising her brows. Kalistrox growls lowly, eyeing the sky for a second and then at her-. Go!-, Daera pressed her lips when seeing him slowly standing up from the muddy ground. The golden dragon carefully lifts his wings, shaking his neck with a little doubt on his gaze-. You’re hungry-, she whispered.

After another low growl, Kalistrox opened his wings as big as possible, crawling a little away from there. Daera walks backwards with no hurry, stepping away from his thick tail. She crosses her hand over her belly, seeing him shaking his neck again with unquietness while looking at the multiple trees.

Moments then, The Golden Ray took off with one big flap from his wings, which lifted him up in the air within a second. His paw kicked the tall pines when flying across them. They wiggled like crazy. Their wood and sticks cracked, making the princess to look up with carefulness, watching that nothing fell on her.

Having learned from his difficult landing from before, Kalistrox took off with skilled maneuvers. He zig-zagged, as he has watched Caraxes do; no tree fell, and he headed towards the grey clouds while roaring out with sharpness and freedom, quickly getting away from the humidity. Inevitably, his rider looked up at him while siding a small smile.

-Smart boy-, she whispered to him along a little chuckle.

Daera is now by herself in this ugly, lush and lonely swamp. The princess looks down at the fire that still burns in the middle of the furs. While looking at it, the princess’ ears catch the sound of a nearby stream.

She made a pout with her lips, grabbed an empty jar they had use for their supper, and followed that sound with easy-going steps.

While walking, the princess thinks of how beautiful Lovers Island is. When the sun is not blessing it, a clear moon is. The sand is always white and warm, the waters fresh and sound. A kind breeze always blows softly towards their handmade hut, and in there their home is always waiting for them.

Daera tried to picture all that, but here, in this swamp. Many would think that it wouldn’t be the same at all, but the princess thinks it would be the very same. Lovers Island is beautiful, but its meaning does not fall on its beaches, sun and sand; but in the lovers that live there. This could very well be Lovers Swamp with no problem.

After chasing away a couple of curious frogs with her hands, Daera soon arrived at the place where that sound she followed came from. She arrives to a small river almost entirely covered by fog. In here are less crickets than in the other place, so it is quieter.

The princess keeps walking, grabbing the jar in one hand, and her own fingers in the other. She plans to take some water from the river, to go and kill off the fire, and then join Vermax and Jace in the skies. A flight would make her good right now, to be honest; she has a lot of stress to free.

But, postponing her task for a while, Daera stopped walking at the very shore of the river, and remained moveless. A cold breeze blows her dress and her curly mane, making it to bounce on her back. Her arms are loose to the sides of her body, applying no force. The fog in front of her gets sad when seeing her sad face.

Lighted by the cold white of the moon, Daera’s sleepless purple eyes stare at the nothingness while she gulps and presses her dry lips. Her gaze is lost, thoughtful, tired, sad and in the water.

They joy of having won three houses to their side in the half of a day remains in her with honesty; she’d never forget Jacaerys’ hopeful eyes every time that a lord or lady said yes to them. However, great part of her knows that they shouldn’t be even doing this. They are taking the bother to go house by house, knocking their doors and pleading for their support. “Who are they?” “Who are we?”.

Daera thinks how she and her husband have been going around the realm, like fucking beggars, having to give things in exchange to convince the Houses to fight and advocate by their side. It is ridiculous, to say the least! It its demeaning and degrading to go as so…

As future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Daera understand that exchanges, accords and betrothals are of great essence for the Iron Throne to keep good relations between the crown and its subjects. But we’re talking about war here, for the fuck’s sakes, not some feast or tourney, or wedding. Everyone should fight for the Blacks by law.

But no, here they are. They’ve licked Lady Jeyne Arryn’s cunt, given away Joffrey’s hand in marriage. The Houses are taking them as fools, it seems. And as the day goes by, Daera has been growing bitter and more bitter about it, not liking it one bit.

We are Targaryens.

The sound of a branch being stepped on brings the princess out of her thoughts. She blinks, still. Within seconds, two more branches crack, and then she detects the sound of footsteps in the mud.

After blinking again, Daera starts to slowly turn around. She turns her head with patience and a quiet expression, looking at what is behind her. And oh, gods be dammed, look at what we have here.

A group of five people has come out from the woods, arriving to the river with silent steps. There are three man and two women. They are all of small sizes; not dwarfs, but under the regular height of Westerosi people. They’re wearing clothes of colors similar to the swamp’s, fashion-less and ugly.

Perhaps that’s why they’re staring at her fancy expensive clothes and boots with lust.

Daera’s expression remains unfaced. She’s no longer sad, but calmed. She completely turns around, standing by the river’s shore, under the eyes of these ones.

-Good night-, she greeted with a polite tone.

-Good night-. One of the men greeted her, nodding towards her. We don’t know their names; we’ll call this one: Fuck.

-Beware, princess, there are many lion-lizards around these places-. Another of the men spoke, looking at her from feet to toe. He’ll be: Cunt.

Daera blinked and tilted her head lightly, instantly catching that they know she’s the princess. Great, no need to introduce herself then.

-Lion lizards?-. She gives them a confused smile, shaking her head.

-Dreadful beasts-. The third man raised his brows. This is: Dumb.

-Ah no, thankfully I haven’t seen none-. She kindly said-. But thanks for the warning-, her head tilts to a side whilst her hands meet on her belly.

Still, they keep getting closer, slowly but noticeable. Their steps are paused and marked, something she glanced at with tranquil eyes. Meanwhile, what they glance at is to the clothes and jewelry of the princess; her fine rings and leather dress must cost a fortune, not to speak about her white scalp.

Daera parted her lips when she sighed and scratched her forehead.

-Right…-, she mumbles with tiredness, nodding.

-Take off her clothes first, then do whatever you please-. One of the women spoke for the first time. How should be call her?

-She’s more worthy alive than dead, bitch-. Cunt spat to her. We’ll call her Bitch.

-Then don’t make her die, brute!-. The other woman spat back to him with an obvious tone, not even looking at him. This will be Dead.

Daera watches them all, person by person, looking at their steps and the manners of their hands. They’re armed, each of them with a rusty axe. She breathes in, looking at their faces again.

-Well, you’ve quickly made your intentions clear-. She sighed, making them to look at her with full amusement. A girl standing alone in a river, poor she thing-. Are crannogmen this direct then?-, Daera scrunches her nose, disappointed. Fuck and Dumb chuckled lowly, while Bitch twisted her lips with tediousness-. I like my men to entertain me-, she confessed whilst, under the enough darkness of the swamp, one of her hands so very slowly grabbed the handle of the dagger on her belt.

-I shall entertain you, princess-. Cunt growled with a smile. And it was here that he and Dead started to fastly walk towards her within a second, menacing. The others followed.

And within another second, Princess Daera got her dagger out of her belt, throwing it in the air. Its edge cut the wind sharply until it reached the middle of Dead’s eyes. The dagger crossed her skull and sliced her brains. The last thing she did was gasp, and then she fell hard on the floor, dead.

-Kalistrox, don’t come-. Daera whispered to the air, with a strand of white hair in the middle of her sight.

The other four cared naught about the fallen woman; they started running towards the princess. The closest was Cunt, who smiles while running.

Daera fastly leans to a side and scratches the river’s shore. Afterwards, she threw a handful of mud towards Cunt, who grunted when the heavy wet dirt ended up on his eyes and nose, making him to walk backwards.

-WHORE!-, a muted groan escaped his throat whilst he tried to wipe it all off his eyes.

-CUNT!-. Daera groaned as well, throwing more mud against Bitch and Dumb, but they dodged it and kept running to her with mad eyes. The princess laughs growly, unsheathing her sword.

-Don’t kill her!-. Bitch yelled with rage, and she ran slower when she saw the sword, getting a little scared. Fuck copied her.

Thus, Dumb kept running and became the closest to the princess, who took him off guard when making a savage expression with her face. The man, who cannot be older than twenty, furrowed his brows and, when he least expected, let out a loud and agonizing scream when a hand was cut from his body by her sword.

-AHHHH!!-, Dumb grabs his hand-less arm, looking at it with terror.

Daera laughs with great confidence, and that was her mistake, for the raged Dumb yelled with madness and grabbed her hair, pushing her with his remaining hand. The princess screamed, angry, and then she fell into the river’s deep shore, getting all wet by water and heavy mud. Her hand never left her sword’s handle.

-NO!-, Daera gasps in search of air, quickly sticking her head out the water.

Cunt had run to another part of the river as well, washing off the mud on his eyes while grunting with angriness. All the times that he found the strength to open his red and swollen eyes for a second, he glanced at the white-haired princess. He started to wash his face faster when seeing her falling into the river.

-GRAB HER HANDS, GRAB HER HANDS!-. Fuck yells quickly as he and Bitch ran to reach the princess.

-AHH!-. Remaining in the shore, Dumb breathes fastly while looking at his gone hand laying in the mud. He whines, staring at his bleeding wrist-. FUCKING BRING HER!-, he screamed to the river.

Daera breathed fastly, with her eyes blurry due to the water in them, but she saw something: those two small-sized beasts running towards her with more than evil intentions. She spat the water off her mouth, and took a deep breath.

Bitch runs faster when the princess’ head got dipped into the river from a moment to another. Fuck did so as well, yelling with rage when losing her out of sight.

-Fucking bitch! Where are you?!-. Bitch yells with alert, pushing all the water around her, wanting to hit the princess’ head by doing so, but she was far from her.

-Where are you?! WHORE!-. Fuck screams tauntly, licking his lips and smiling while from his mouth drops of saliva fall-. Fucking coward-, he mumbled with amusement.

-FIND HER!-, a scream was heard from Cunt, who’s walking to the shore near where they are. He pushed Dumb, who still cries for his hand.

Even though the screams continued, none was as loud as Fuck’s, who opened his mouth into a broken shriek when a sword suddenly cut his inner thighs and inner knees from a second to another, under the water.

-FU- FUUUCK! FUCK!!-. He yelled with extreme pain. Bitch quickly runs faster towards there, opening her eyes big when seeing the water turning red-. YOU- YOU…!-, he looks at the water around, harshly getting both his hands into it-. YOU FUCKING CUNT!-, he pulls something out.

Daera let out a pained screamed with her mouth open when Fuck suddenly pulled her out of the water, grabbing her by her hair. All her face and mane drips water while she roars with rage, looking at him, who roars back at her.

-BEAST!-, Fuck grabbed her hair into a fist, and his other hand slapped her strongly on one cheek.

-FUCK!!-, Daera roars. She holds her sword stronger, and head it right to his skull.

But Bitch appeared out of nowhere, arriving behind of her and taking both her hands prisoners into hers. Daera immediately screamed with rage, struggling against her grasp. Fuck grasped her legs the same way, trapping them, and that’s how the both of them began to carry her out the river.

-NO! NOOO! YOU WHORES, CUNTS, LET ME GO!-. The princess shrieks endlessly while dragged in the water-. YOU WEAK BEASTS, LET ME GO!-. Her yells never end.

-Bring her!-. Cunt waits for her in the shore with an ugly smile on his yellow teeth. Steps from him, Dumb is dizzy while looking at his bloody wrist.

-CUNTS!-, Daera grunts, not letting the river to take her sword away. She’s grabbing it tightly, while Bitch is incapable of taking it from her, for both her hands are busied in grasping hers to not let her go.

The princess was delivered to the shore, being harshly placed there. Within a second, Cunt grumbled and headed to her, going for the legs that Fuck fights against with a scrunched angry face.

While placing her in the ground, Bitch leaned forward in a way that made Daera’s eyes shine when she realized what she could do. Not losing time at all, the princess extended her neck up, opened her mouth, and then closed it along a wild roar. Daera bit the woman’s left breast, and squeezed it violently between her teeth.

Bitch let out a great scream, letting go her hands. Out of instinct she stepped away. At the same time, the princess wiggled her head ferociously from side to side; Bitch’s left nipple was torn from her breast by Daera’s harsh teeth, and then was spitted right into her face by the princess

The woman took six long steps back when she opened her mouth towards the sky to scream and cry with a pain none can even imagine. She grabs her bleeding teat, looking at it with extreme terror.

Oblivious to that, Fuck fights against the princess’s closed legs. She looks down there with rage, and opened her eyes big when seeing Cunt grabbing her knees with his big hands, and smiling up at her.

-No-, Daera’s voice trembles, and she realizes her hands are now free-. NO NO, STEP AWAY YOU CUNTS!-. She screams, about to slice them both in a half with her sword.

But a feet stepped on her armed hand, and a hand grabbed her other one. When she looks up, breathing fastly, she found Dumb’s handless wrist bleeding over her face. Daera immediately yells with pure rage, scrunching her nose and struggling even fiercer than before.

-Away!!-, Cunt pushed Fuck, taking his place in front of her. He squeezed her knees, and pulled them apart violently.

-FUCK!!!-, Daera struggled against him with rage, tears coming up to her eyes. Cunt grumbles when finding out the princess was wearing pants below.

-Queer bitch-, the man grunted, quickly pulling her dress’s skirt up, and beginning to break her pants with his bare hands.

Breathing fastly, Daera studies her surroundings within three second: Bitch whines for her lost nipple, rocking her breasts with agonizing pain. Cunt fights to take off her clothes, Fuck lines behind him with an excited evil smile, taking turn to rape her as well. Dumb steps on the hand she grabs her sword with, and grabs her other one while looking down at her. And, just a few steps from them, Dead lies dead with open eyes, with the dagger still on her forehead.

Daera blinks when feeling the drops of blood falling on her face from up. She looks up, and sees the Hand-less Dumb leaning towards her with a crazy smile while trapping her hands. Blinkless, he’s heading to kiss her lips.

And with these very lips of her, she spat harshly against his face from a second to another. The saliva that violently entered one of his eyes made Dumb to scream and to take a step away. He kept grabbing one of her hands, but: stopped stepping on the other.

Hissing, Daera dropped her sword, pulled the dagger out of Dead’s head, cut off Dumb’s remaining hand, and cut away the part of her dress Cunt was pulling away.

When the dress was cut and the pression of his pulling abruptly ended, Cunt gasped and staggered with no time to react. When her legs were free at last, the princess roared and kicked him with all of her strength and will.

Cunt fell right over Fuck, who yelled with pain when his bleeding thighs met the mud.

Daera heads the dagger to Dumb’s legs, and cut both his knees profoundly within a second, making a perfect line. The Handless man screamed agonizing-like, falling on his knees when being servant of the pain.

Before his knees ended right on her eyes, princess Daera fastly makes herself to a side, rolling in the mud. While doing so, she grabbed back her sword, never letting it go again. Dumb sobs with rage, going for her.

With a smooth rolling, Daera stood up from the mud within seconds and, as soon as she did so, she clashed her sword against Bitch, not even letting her to take a last breath. Bitch gasped before being sliced in a literal half by the princess’ sword. Her upper body fell hard on the ground, whilst her legs kept standing for a few more second.

After cutting Bitch in a half, Daera made a perfect circle on her feet and with her sword. Smoothly turning around, she slashed Dumb’s belly. Her angry expression faded away as soon as he died, when all of his bowels fell from his open abdomen. A stinking shit fell with them too; the princess stepped on it, and then cleaned her boots with Dumb’s face.

With dagger and sword now at hand, The Rogue Princess bloody face turns to look at the remaining two. The two that were planning to rape her.

Her breathing blows white strands of her disheveled hair. Blinkless and mouth-parted, she starts walking towards them, licking the blood on her lips.

When Cunt fell over him, Fuck couldn’t walk again. Pressed by the other man’s heaviness, he fell right on a big stone that crashed so hard against his lower back that it appears to have disconnected it from his legs, which are still cut and bleeding while he now drags himself away as quick as possible. Fuck whines and grunts as his elbows are the only thing helping him to move in the mud.

Meanwhile, Cunt is- well, he is running to her.

Daera turns around; her back collapses with his chest. He grunts and, before he could do anything with his rusty axe, the princess surprised him with a stab on his ribs. He gasps, opening his eyes big. Blinking two times while looking at the woods, Daera stabbed him two more times, in different places.

-Fucking…!-, airless, he gasped.

Letting out a sour chuckle, Daera suddenly starts to walk backwards with fastness. Cunt looks around with terror; the loss of blood tricked him bad, and he imagined the trees laughing and pointing at him whilst the princess pushes him with her own little body.

From a moment to another, Cunt felt he flew, and he did. For a second. He fell harshly on the river’s shore, dyeing the water with red. What’s weirdest is that the princess allowed herself to fall with him, only to then rise on her knees and stare down at him with hell-like eyes and evil twisted lips.

She grips her dagger tightly, closing her fist on it.

-I’m a Targaryen-, her honeyed though growly voice spoke while her hand slipped down his pants.  

Her dagger swayed in the air, and then cut off Cunt’s hard erection. When his member was sliced off his body, the bleeding man screamed with pure pain, never taking his eyes off her. He saw her painted all in red, grabbing his bland chopped cock with a rogue glim on her eyes, and smiling to him within a blink.

-I’ll be taken as no fool-. The princess mumbled with rage, starting to fill his mouth of the mud around, filling even her own nails with it.

Cunt coughs violently as his throat and mouth gets clogged by dirt and water with no end. His eyes tears while he yells as louds as he can, desperately searching for air. Daera grunts, grabbing his head with a hand.

-Stay fucking quiet!!-, she grunted, dipping his face into the river.

Cunt struggles and kicks with despair, airless, swallowing both mud and water endlessly, nearly starting to cry blood. Whilst he grunts and tussle, the princess turns around her head. She sees the other one, Fuck, still crawling away. He’s already far, but she sees him. She hears him crying with horror, crawling away like a coward from his sliced thieves friends.

Daera presses her lips, pulling Cunt’s face out of the water. And before he could give his last breath for himself, the princess drew her dagger on his throat, and cut it with a clean move.

Cunt’s mouth dripped vomit, blood, mud and water. His eyes went blank, and his face dipped again in the water when the princess stood up and walked away from him, leaving his unliving body behind.

When Fuck hears steps near him, he turns around his head. Now, when he saw The Rogue Princess approaching to him with armed hands and raged mad eyes, he cried for his mother, and started to crawl and drag himself faster than ever, to no purpose.

Fuck tried to stood up while breathing fastly. Her knees trembled, but he was able to stand weakly. But before he could even think of running, a boo kicked his lower back violently and made him to fall back in the mud. He yelled loudly, with pain and terror. He turns around his head, finding the ugliest and most disturbing image of his life.

The white-haired brown-skinned princess, slouched to look directly at him, is bathed in blood and mud. Her chin, lashes and nose are dripping a red liquid that does not belong to her. Her teeth are stained on red too, as well as her jewelry and her chopped wrinkled dress. What disturbed him the most: the madness and pleasure that shines on the purple of her eyes.

The Rogue Princess grabbed his hair and pulled his head up with harshness. He gasps with pain, scrunching his lips while crying, feeling her breathing approaching to his neck.

-You’ll live a little longer-, Daera whispered with a growing smile.

Fuck screamed with terror, quickly silenced when the princess violently placed Cunt’s bleeding bollocks on his mouth and made him to chew on them.

■ ■ ■

Aemond and Vhagar’s flight was…a silent one. The breeze and the dragon’s breathing are one. Her wings flap quietly, her body soars calmly. The Queen of All Dragons, by all means, goes with tranquility, not worried by anything, neither ashamed of any doings.

On the other hand, the prince that rides on her back is not sharing her feelings at all. Vhagar might be serene, but Prince Aemond is a nervous wreck.

Lucerys has been slain.

Aemond’s only eye is blinkless. His gloved hands are held to his saddle with tension; his palms are sweating below the black leather.

He did it.

His hair is humid, priorly wet by the rain at Storm’s End. His lips are dry and constantly shaking.

He has killed him.

His heart has been beating with endless fastness for hours and hours. His teeth taste like iron; his tongue like blood.

He killed Luke.

Vhagar growls lowly when she sees the shores of King’s Landing already appearing in front of them. In trance, Aemond looks up from his saddle, staring front. When he saw the Red Keep from the distance, his heart stopped beating and his throat got afflicted within a second.

The prince breathes fastly, pressing his lips with anxiety. His dragon keeps flapping her wings, knowing she were to land in the beach nearest to the castle, where she always nests. But the closer they got to the heart of the capital; the more nervous Prince Aemond grew.

He knows his landing means one thing: his family will ask him how things went. He, then, shall tell them that: he won Lord Borros and House Baratheon to their side, he wooed Ellyn Baratheon, and made her his betrothed. And that he lost control of Vhagar, and got Lucerys killed.

Shamefully, he does not have the gut to tell them, at least not now.

The One-Eyed Prince parted his trembled lips and, within a second, he pushed his saddle down. Vhagar shook her neck; she immediately obeyed, and started to descend quickly, straying from the path towards King’s Landing.

Vhagar landed right in a high hill belonging to The Kingswood. It is night, and late, so no one is around nor near them. The green dragon lifted ton of dirt when she landed, when her wings flapped near the ground. She looked up to the white moon, with her small eyes.

As soon as she landed, Aemond breathed with unquietness while he started to fastly come down from saddle, quickly getting off his dragon’s back. He gets endless chills whilst climbing down the ropes; his altered eye stared at her belly only for a second.

Aemond’s feet landed harshly on the ground when he jumped away from Vhagar. He breathes in and out, in and out, fastly and anxiously. He feels his legs trembling, and his heart about to stop beating. Is this how it feels to die? Is his body preparing him for a feeling even worst than this?

“Gods. Gods. Gods”

The prince walks with shaky legs, looking all around at the trees with his eye filled of despair. His parted mouth breathes heavily, the same as how his chest feels. He doesn’t feel his arms, which are hanging to the sides of his body.

-Fuck-, he whimpered with a string of voice.

“Help me. Help me. Oh, please may the Gods help me”

Aemond couldn’t hold himself for much longer. He fell right on his knees, making them to clash against the dirt on the ground. The prince shrieks while he looks around, looking for some light. He hasn’t one thought on his mind and, at the very same time, a thousand of them.

He’s in shock; that it is. The shock on him is so big that he’s thinking that by calling the gods for help he’ll get out of this. Well, he won’t. He’s fucked, he’s condemned. And he knows it. He knows what this means, Aemond is no fool.

He knows this will bring war. What he does not know yet: he has brought the doom of his family as well.

The prince breathes in, shaky, slowly turning his head, looking over his shoulder. He stares at Vhagar, who looked back at him with tranquility and blinkless eyes. Kneeled, the one-eyed huffs a dry laugh.

-What have you done?-, he whispered. His eye stared to her belly, and he shivered when thinking that Luke and his dragon are both literally in there, dead and butchered-. Oh- oh Vhagar, what have you done?!-. His voice shook with disbelief, looking at her.

Vhagar does nothing but to growl lowly and calmly, looking back at him with no shame nor pity. Queen Visenya’s ancient fierceness shined on her former dragon’s eyes. Oh, if dragons could talk.

“I did what I wanted to”, Vhagar would say, “What you also wanted me to do”. She knows her rider is just blinded by fear, or whatever, right now, but the truth is that: her desires were the same as his when they were in the skies. “Are you a coward now?”.

“Imma kinslayer”, Prince Aemond told to himself while looking at Vhagar’s huge tum. Is that what he’s supposed to say to his family? Or is he to confess that he lost control of his own dragon, like an idiot? What is he to do? What- what is to happen now?

Aemond breathes fastly, heavily overwhelmed by the whole situation; he is not having one clear thought at the moment. He feels like a child again. He’s just scared, and he wants to cry.

The One-Eyed Prince turned his head again and, from this high hill, he stared at The Red Keep. His chest comes up and down whilst his only eye, teary, looks at there with not one blink in the middle. Tired and wary, he starts to close his lips. His family is in that castle.

Hours, the prince thinks. Is just a matter of hours for the Black to know about Luke’s death, about what Aemond has done, if they don’t know it already. Then, war will come.

“War. War. War”

It is imminent. It's inevitable now. There is no turning back, and now the war is getting closer. It's almost at the door of his house.

And, when thinking of this, prince Aemond twisted his lips with determination, ceasing their trembling. He growled as he stood up from the floor, and ran towards Vhagar with stiff feet and legs.

He is scared, yes, but he can't afford to stay here, worrying and crying, cursing his dragon's actions. His dear dragon. No. He will act, he has to. And he has to do it now.

-SOVES, VHAGAR!-. With a loud growl, Aemond commanded his dragon to fly, pulling her ropes tightly when he took seat on his saddle.

Quick to answer, Vhagar growled as well, and took off from The Kingswood with a big flap from her wings. They rose in the skies again, flying faster than before. Aemond breathes fastly, clenching his teeth and jaw.

Tears come up to his eyes and then they run down his cheeks, one after another and another after one. Fright and shock have been keeping his thoughts at a limit. He doesn't want to think too far into the future; He couldn't stand it.

So…

He forces himself to live in the moment, to go to protect his family.

He forces himself to not think of Daera and the hate he’ll won from her.

He forces himself to think that he’s still on time, that they can prepare for whatever that may come.

Aemond forces himself to pretend that he doesn't feel a pair of raged eyes on his neck at all times, crossing the entirety of the Blackwater Rush.

■ ■ ■

Daemon stands over an open window. A red gaze of his crosses the whole sea; there is rage on his purple eyes, immense. His chest comes up and down with a slow infuriated breathing. His fists are tight to the sides of his body, he has tears on his demonic eyes.

More than one cry is taking over the room he’s in.

Viserys and Aegon are crying on their cradles; their faces are red and their throats are shrieking, constantly babbling, in the need of tending and kisses. They’re so uncomfortable and unquiet; there’s a reason for that.

Their mother, Rhaenyra, is crying louder than them. Her palms are flat open in a wall. Her head shakes from one side to another whilst her mouth whines endlessly and her closed eyes tear up with no stop. The Queen cries with the worst pain of her life; her chest feels empty.

In Dragonstone, the sky is still dark, but it is almost dawn, so a new day has arrived. All that can be heard around the castle is the crying coming from Queen Rhaenyra’s chambers, from her very self. Every lord, servant and knight either shivers or looks down every time a scream makes echo through the walls.

A dark cloud has been casted on Dragonstone, when news of Prince Lucerys’ death reached his parents’ ears.

-Luke!-, a broken sob comes out from Rhaenyra’s mouth. She cries brokenly, curving her brows and lifting her face towards the ceiling, looking at it with swollen eyes and a trembling open mouth-. Why?-, she whispers sorrowful. To only imagine it, her boy- her son…killed with no mercy-. FU- UCK!-, she cried with a torn heart, screaming loudly.

Master Gerardys had to quickly fetch something to make Prince Joffrey to fall asleep, for the boy became mad when he heard that his brother, Luke, had been murdered by their own uncle, the prince Aemond.

Joff cried less than his mother, but that was only because he busied himself with trying to escape the guards’ arms when wanting to take Tyraxes and fly himself to avenge his brother. With a mouth resembling his step-father and older sister’s, Joff swore a terrible oath of vengeance against Prince Aemond and even Lord Borros. Only the intervention of Ser Erryk kept the boy from mounting his dragon at once.

It was the same with his sister, the princess Rhaena.

-My baby…-, Rhaenyra sobs with a shaky voice, afflicting her throat.

In The Chamber of the Painted Table, when the news was announced, Rhaena fell from a chair to her knees, screaming, crying and whining so loudly that it waked the whole island entirely. Some even searched for some wound, cut or tumor in her, to see if it was that she was burning from within.

Rhaena screamed with so much pain, and squeezed her own chest with so much sorrow, feeling her heart being plucked away from it with no mercy, just as Luke’s probably was too. She cried the name of her brother, her betrothed, four times. After the fourth cry, her father ordered Maester Gerardys to sedate her too, and so he did.

Prince Daemon looks outside with lips trembling of rage, and eyes flickering of grief. His nose is sweating endlessly, and his mouth is dry. Every second he thinks of different moments of Lucerys. Training on the beach, laughing with his siblings, asking him to help with his saddle. Every second he thinks of different ways of murdering Aemond. Tie him barefoot on stones in fire, slicing off his cock and making him to eat it as his last meal, watch him burn.  

Queen Rhaenyra squeezes her belly with one hand whilst the other remains flat on a wall; is the only thing keeping her steady while she cries her soul out. Her feelings are indescribable; no mother should go through this. With the blur of her tears, she can only see him. As a babe, as a child, as a young man. He has been taken away from her…he’ll never be grown up. Her boy. Her sweet boy.

You may be wondering where does Princess Baela stand, in all this. Well then, if you must.

The princess left the Chamber of the Painted Table with swift steps, airless. She reached her dorms, staggering, where she was free to yell as much as she wanted. She fell flat on her bed and cried until ending voiceless and with a sore throat.

She didn’t believe it.

Caraxes, Syrax and Moondancer’s shrieks were constantly heard very near the castle, startling the servants many times. They’re furious too.

Baela cried, but not for long, for now she finds herself walking with firmness and quickness through the castle’s hallways. There are dry tears on her swollen purple eyes, tears that she slapped away from her with angry growls. She is in denial, and scolded herself for her crying.

Soon, the princess arrived to Rhaenyra and Daemon’s chambers. She opened the doors within a push, walking into it with rage and despair. Before the harsh sound of the doors, Daemon looked over his tense shoulder and Rhaenyra lifted up her red face. Viserys and Aegon went silent.

They find Baela with a lifted chin and shoulders.

-Baela…-, Rhaenyra sobbed her name with weakness, looking at her from feet to toe. She looked at her, and her lips trembled when seeing her step-mother’s red sorrowful face.

-I come not to mourn-. The princess spoke harshly, shaking her head. Daemon starts to turn around fully, staring at her with wide red eyes of attention-. My brother is not dead-. She declared with a stiff lip, serious.

Rhaenyra sighed shakily, staring at her with curious eyes of sadness, and tilting her head to a side while heading both her hands to her flat belly. Daemon, blinkless, listens to his daughter too.

-This is not Luke’s end!-. Baela’s loud voice trembled when saying his name. Nyra’s lips shook too, though her head began to nod, slowly-. Not in the hands of a deranged wretch-, she mumbled with decision, shaking her head-. Let us look for him-. She decided.

-Look for him?-, Daemon fastly repeated with his sharp loud voice.

-Look for him!-. His middle daughter nodded with the same sharpness. Hopeful, Rhaenyra caresses her belly, and begins to nod with tiredness.

-Baela…-, his father mumbled, almost ashamed. He fears their hope, for it can only bring more pain to them-. They said th-

-Then you have been misled!-. She quickly cut his words, yelling with firmness. Daemon closes his lips, serious. He hums lowly, looking at the both of them with thoughtful sour eyes.

-Yes…-, a weak whisper came out from Rhaenyra’s lips. Her husband looked at her, and his gaze automatically became softer. She breathes in with deepness. Pain and decision on her eyes-. Yes-. She spoke firmer than before, letting go her belly.

-We’ll find him-. Baela approached to her with decision, holding one of her hands. Rhaenyra sobs and looks at her with curved brows, nodding with the same conviction.

-We’ll leave at dawn-. Queen Rhaenyra declared.

The three share a look between them, decided, but none of the two women dared to ponder the question “What if we don’t?”.

Nevertheless, prince Daemon stood tall, and walked towards them with slow harsh steps, staring at the both of them. Baela gulped, holding Rhaenyra’s hand tighter.

-Whatever the come out, the Greens’ bloodline will end on our dragons’ bellies, their heads on our shelfs…-. He speaks with poison and sourness. His wife’s lips tremble, whilst his daughter nodded, bitter as him-. We will breathe fire, and drink blood-. The prince madly declared.

He approaches to the both of them, with his irritated eyes shining with blood and vengeance thirst. He narrows his eyes.

-Gaomagon ao emagon zire isse ao?-. The Rogue Prince asked, filled of wrath.

[Do you have it in you?]

■ ■ ■

Back to The Neck, Vermax landed on firm ground, growling lowly. His rider, the prince Jacaerys, landed him near where they were camping before, as he calculated before coming down.

Coming off from his saddle, the prince sighs tiredly, patting his dragon’s back.

-I am sorry, Vermax-. He whispered with shame and pity, caressing him. Vermax growled with tediousness, closing his eyes and shaking his neck.

Sadly, there are no sheep nor mutton or cows in swamps, so the search for dinner for the dragons was a total fiasco. Vermax hungers, and it seems that he’ll have to wait until arriving to Winterfell and see what can be offered to him.

Jacaerys sighed heavily, petting him. As he saw, Kalistrox is still in the skies with Daera. They did not exchange words or glances as they flew, as each one was focused on their dragon's supper.

-Alright-. The prince sighs, starting to walk with full calmness. His dragon, purring, follows him slowly-. I know you’re tired but at least help me to…-, as he goes walking and looking front, Jace starts to furrow his brows, cutting his own words-…lit back the fire?-. He mumbles.

He was planning to lit a new fire. But as he approached to where they were before, he realized the fire was still lit, just as he left it. Jace tilts his head to a side with confusion, keeping approaching, and wondering if he was wrong.

When being closer, and seeing their furs and bedsheets, he knew he hasn’t wrong. This is their fire, which confused him, for Daera told him she’d stay to turning it off, and the she’d go up with Kalistrox. Now she’s up there with Kalistrox, he thinks, but the fire is still here.

As Jacaerys approaches to the camp, he noticed a piece of luggage that wasn’t there before, big and lumpy, too big to seem like one of theirs. The prince approaches with slow steps and curious eyes, staring at the luggage as he walks by it.

Jacaerys takes three more steps, looking at it with confusion and mistrust. Only seconds then is that he got to look at it from the front.

And right at that moment, the “luggage” came to life. Vermax squealed whilst Jacaerys gasped when they realized it was a man with his hands and feet tied that struggled against the ropes with despair and fear.

-Ah!-, Jace steps back with quickness; he’s shocked and scared, with his eyes wide open. He breathes fast, seeing all the blood that man is covered with. The man’s screams and pleadings of help are muted by some bloody hairy bollocks on his wide mouth.

The man, Fuck, cries and struggles with terror, moving like a worm in dirt. The prince Jacaerys breathes very fastly, as confused as grossed out, looking at him with wide eyes. Steps are heard near them. Fuck tried to yell loudly to the boy, kicking his feet and looking like he was…trying to warn him about something? …Someone.

-Nyke emagōn pōja havor [I found their supper]-. A taunt mumbling voice spoke behind him.

Jace turns around with frighted eyes. He afflicted his throat strongly, for his eyes automatically traveled to the ground, and in there he found more “pieces of luggage”. More bodies. But these are not alive, as the other one. They’re butchered people, long gone.

Dumb. A man with no hands, bleeding his wrist out; his belly all open, hence his organs on the floor, and his face stained by shit. Dead. A woman with a hole in the middle of her eyes, which are open. Cunt. A man that has no upper body, for neither his torso, arms chest or head are to be found; in the middle of his legs there’s no cock. Bitch. And another woman, literally sliced in two. Her legs are chopped like fresh ham, whilst her upper body lacks a nipple in one of her breasts; instead, is between her lips, soaked in blood.

Jacaerys breathes slowly and deeply, with eyes of fright and marvel, not believing his sight. Feeling his heart beating crazily, his brown orbs slowly began to look up, following a tread of blood from the cock-less body.

Soon, he comes to the sight of his wife standing over a rock. Her hand is holding another, that belongs to the upper-body to the cockless man. His throat is sliced, and his face stained with vomit, blood and mud; his eyes closed, his hand hold to hers.

Daera is bathed in red dirty blood, her pants and dress are torn, and her hair disheveled and wild. Her hands are bloody, so are her arms, so is her neck, her mouth, her teeth, her cheeks, forehead and her pupils. Little of that river of blood is hers.

There is a terrifying calm in her eyes, which are staring at him endlessly. Slightly swinging the corpse whom she holds hands with, Daera looks at Jace amidst all the blood that paints her eyes. Blinkless, she's breathing slowly.

Mouth-open, Jacaerys’ chest comes up and down. Mesmerized and terrified, he looks at his wife from down, not even smelling the blood, neither hearing the man’s pleadings and struggles. The prince merely blinks, shocked by the sight in front of him, the sight of her.

Unfazed by her blood-dripping face, The Rogue Princess looks back at him with easiness; a glim of taunt in her eyes. She sniffed her nose.

■ ■ ■

[baronaliswritingcorner]

Tales of Symphonia Stray Thoughts #6: Tower of Mana

Alright, we're back after a month and a half-long hiatus! Sorry for the wait, y'all -- but with PMTTYD finished and my Colloyd Day fic finished (read it here, if you're so inclined!), it's time for my adventures in Tales of Symphonia supernerdery to continue. Let's commence the Stray Thoughts, shall we?

-I'm with Raine -- I wanna read all those Tower of Mana books. Look how many there are. A bibliophile's rapture.

-man imagine just standing there on that magic apparatus just to keep the door open. Must've been boring.

-The Tower of Mana has some really fun enemies -- what's with the Living Doll? I wanna know.

-After solving that big sunlight puzzle, I got a big "GAME DISC COULD NOT BE READ" error screen in the middle of a fight. After processing this for twenty seconds, I simply ejected the disc, inserted it back in, and it started working again.

Well, then. Let's hope this doesn't spell anything ominous -- I already had to buy another used copy some years back because my last pair of discs kept freezing.

-Annnnd it just happened again. Oh no...

Nothing a quick shirt rub couldn't fix, but now I'm gonna be freaking out from here on. At any rate, the trigger seemed to be Genis's Stalagmite, but at least that seems be working fine now!

-They say Colette's the best character in combat, but I cannot, for the life of me, utilize her moveset. It's all about Paraballs, right?

-Look at how some of those floating stairs at the top are in disrepair. How does magitechnology fall into disrepair like that? One of those fun eye-catching background details Symphonia's chock-full of. At any rate, they look scary to use.

-IT'S LUNA! Who gives a shit.

-lol so you know how you can read the books in the Tower of Mana? Just walked up to fresh my memory on what they were about and picked up the Boltzman's Book you needed. Speaking of said books...

-"Hatred between two countries gave rise to the war."

Did Sylvarant's scholars ever deduce what the "countries" were? Not like they know there's another world. Another book mentions "few records" of said countries, but...

-Yeesh, the war lasted for a thousand years??? Talk about a body count.

-"You must wake me, for if I should sleep, the world shall be destroyed."

da fuq sense does that make

(No, really, I know this is supposed to be an allegory for something in the story, but I've never connected the dots here.)

-listen to that cheap crackling fire SE

-Sheena revealing her origins in her swimsuit outfit. 💀💀💀

(My "silly outfits" gang consists of Lloyd and Sheena's beach outfits, Colette's maid costume, Raine's Glamorous Beauty, and Genis's Katz costume.)

"Tell us about your homeland. A land that doesn't exist in this world."

"You knew?!"

"No."

lolwut

-"Tethe'alla? You mean the moon?" *Is* that the name of Sylvarant's moon? You never hear that again after this. It'd be interesting if the passage of time mixed up Tethe'alla's true origins as such...

-"My world isn't on the moon."

...but what if? That'd make for a whole different game.

-i am suddenly hypnotized by noishe's twitching ears. reminds me of my dog. big ears.

-Lloyd's eyes shutting in realization when he realizes how the regeneration process really works...

-Sheena fretting between an impossible choice, Raine's grounded pragmatism pouring over a bucket of cold water, Lloyd immediately diving into the right answer...the group's dynamics are coming together!

-"Although we succeeded in destroying a ranch-"

That's a plural, Kratos!

-AW YEAH, COLETTE'S HANDWRITING! "I'll try asking Remiel if..."

...huh, she didn't actually do that, did she? The religious trauma ran thicker than an Orange Gel. Which may not be that thick. I dunno.

----

And that's a wrap. I'm thinking of building a page in the near-future to archive all this silliness so y'all can reference these super-quick like, so watch out for that.

[kcyars99]

Universities are now canceling commencement ceremonies because of these protest. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against protesting because everyone has the right to protest under the first amendment but if your protesting has escalated to an point where your spouting hatred of others to support one group then it’s not really a protest, it’s a hateful rally and no different than the rallies held by the kkk and the nazis

Let me tell you this, if my or my kid's opportunity (hypothetically speaking) to walk across that stage after all the hard work and money given for four years is being shut down and they can’t go through that rite of passage because of this, as god is my witness, there’s gonna be hades to pay ANFW!!!

[whereserpentswalk]

For it was long ago that the battle between existence and void first formed. When all gods stood together against the nothingness, and no pantheon was named, and no division made between lesser and greater nor rebel and king. There was only the emptiness of space, when no stars formed, and no planets grew.

And at the helm was void and chaos, the tyranny of pure annihilation. Though it was an army no names could be given to those who fought, for no names could define the chaos, for it was pure nothingness, and pure refusal to exist with any boundaries between itself. And though a thousand warriors stood with the void they were but nothing for they could be thought as one and one million at once, and none could define their form. Only did alilation stand, in the moment when matter and antimatter fought. For this was only the universe's refusal to exist within the chaos.

Yet against them rode freedom, and the desire to exist, and each had a name though it may not be known today. For there rode the armies of the gods. And at the helm was Mars, and his blood was napalm, and his breath was mustard gas, and his shield was made of treaties and his sword was a nuclear bomb, and with him the first fear was felt as Mars struck the void and creation demanded to exist.

And a thousand gods followed him. Freya stood with a crown of promises upon her hand, great cats carrying her forwards as valkyries followed her on blood machines half alive. Set taunted the void from the cavalry, turning his form a thousand times in mockery. Bal stood proudly commanding from afar, the fate of a thousand worlds within his hands. The horned god laughed upon a chariot of redwoods and soil, pulled by the tears of the stars. And in fiery passion Prometheus broke the shield walls, calling upon the universe in glory with a hundred mouths. The scribe of death Cthulhu wrote of the battle upon a piece of lithium, his skin a thousand colors under a beard of arms. And the lord of the moon, whose name is known only to elephants glowed from above, and looked at the void with hatred in his heart.

And for that day hatred was good, and satisfaction was evil. For hatred was the desire for creation to exist, for it was hatred of annihilation. 

And none shall know if it was a thousand years or a thousand moments, for time itself was built in the throws of the battle. 

And when the battle ended the void was banished, to beyond what we could even imagine, within the hearts of black holes, and to places far too far away for its light to even have time to meet the eyes of earth. 

And in their innocence the gods thought themselves free of pain, for none would ever know the fear of nonexistence again. And they built themselves a temple to rest upon the shores of planets yet to be discovered. And in that day Jupiter and Juno ran together naked like children, and quetzalcoatl coiled up and remembered colors that no eye could see, and Thoth looked upon every atom and wrote them a name, and Odin lay down a spear made of antimatter, and for a moment admired the greatness of existence.

Yet it all fell. None today knows who spoke the first word, for whom the first squabble commenced. Perhaps it was nothing, a disagreement none should have festered over, the color of the curtains, or whether a lightswitch should have stayed on or off. It was nothing. It should have been nothing. Dear god let it be nothing. The gods would have prayed to themselves if they only knew what faced them.

Over the years the arguments festered, even in paradise there was imperfection. And it became everything. Zoroaster began to look down upon Amun-ra, and Tiamat and Marduk were already at eachothers throats, and Odin hated all of Loki's children, it had all become so bad that poor El had been so traumatized he thought himself the only god, and called the rest of family devils.

So in their loneliness they sought for a new world. For all the world they lay upon was too perfect for any land but flat marble, the scribe Thoth had found truth in his studies, and he found that life could come from nothing, and build itself through a thousand generations. And he opened his curved mouth and read from a script made of stardust, speaking of life evolved from itself, and built from nature. And the gods knew at once that they could be with that life, and for souls would be so plentiful that they could divide up the world, and each would have their own nation of followers. 

And they came upon earth, where men were godless. And for the men there lived as many do today, knowing only a world made by nature and satisfied for it, and for when they died they would pass into nothingness and for none were disturbed by such notions for they were grateful of what nature had given them. Yet when the gods came to men, they were filled with joy and knowledge that they had never known before, and awakened, and those they spoke to would give to them and be taken upon. And the world began to worship the gods, as each faction of gods took a nation for themselves.

Yet El had been the weakest and most paranoid of the gods, and in his unwillingness to share he had found nothing in his hands but the small isle of eden in a salty and dead sea, where fruit was rare and cattle wept. And yet El hated all other gods, and in his arrogance called it the true paradise of earth, and with so little wood upon the island none upon it knew better.

And El spoke to the king of Eden, "You will be my first son. You will be my hero, my anchor. And for through my words you will never know death or even sleep. Through my power you shall not just be a king but a warlock, and through your power you will become a lich, and not Hel nor Pluto nor Anubis will know you."

And Adam, king of Eden bowed, and took off his crown of driftwood to reply, and for he had never known of a god before he spoke, "I know not your name great being, yet I am king, I do not know why I would wish to exist beyond myself, or why my sons would wish to never take my throne?"

And El lied upon him, and distorted the name of one of a thousand women who had rejected him, "If you are to die your brain shall live beyond your death. And Hell shall take you, and you will know only fire and pain for that is what you will be without me."

And Adam, naive to godhood, replied, "Then may I first have a gift, if you are so holy? If you are divine may I not have a divine bride? For I hear your voice yet I see nothing. There is only this life for me as of now, and if I cannot add to it what may I have?"

And El promised, "And for a wife I will give you. And she shall be called goddess, yet you will call her devil for you shall make her feel as if she was the most awful and vile of beasts that you must punish with your body."

And El flew across the sea, and came upon Israel where their gods were given gold and silver and all those shining things that El had denied himself when he chose Eden. And he came upon the desert where for thirteen days he stalked the goddess of the night, Lilith, queen of the owls, whose eyes shone like diamonds, and whose torch was named liberty and whose sword was named freedom. 

The shadowy form of El pounced upon Lilith, and as she struggled against him he whispered to her that it would be for the best, and told her that submission to him and to the king of Eden would be better freedom, as he tore at her feathers and made her bleed until her wings could not fly away. And as she cried beneath him he still swore it would be for the best. 

And before Adam lay Lilith, hugging herself, naked and afraid. And El asked upon Adam, "Feast upon her, and make it not love, for only I am love."

And as Adam touched her Lilith growled and hissed, for the torch of liberty still burnt bright in her eyes. And Adam drew a sword of bronze and clashed with her, and they dueled for moments and equals, and as they clashed as great warriors Lilith wondered if he could have been her husband if he was the subject of a different god, and she wished she could have known him. And it mattered not for what he had become, and as she ran he fired arrows at her back in his hunt, and seeing his chest unarmored she struck him, declaring her freedom unquestioned, and leaving him laying for dead on the ground. She flew righteously, and as she crossed the desert skies humanity knew there was hope for freedom.

Adam awoke, weeping. He had lived, her his cough was that of blood, as a rib had been torn from his chest, and within the capital of Eden he was healed by the medicin women of Eden. And his heart had no love anymore, not for his people, not for his land, not for nature, he had given it to El as his possession. And he looked at his nurse, young and twenty as he was, though his battle made him feel old, and he forgot love or even lust but felt only the desire to conquer, and wished to own her as he did his hunting dogs.

And Adam asked El, "May she then be my first woman? If she is nothing, can you make her goddess and demoness?"

And El replied, "She shall be. And then you shall be lich and warlock for me, and you shall reign over all of the earth."

And her name became Eve, for she was Adam's to name. And he took upon her, and she had no freedom under the eyes of Adam, and the queen of Eden would weep each night as Adam brewed his potions and prayed upon the shattered stones of sea, and did every dark ritual he knew, and he thought of eternal life for the first time, and knew he would one day taste the blood and skin of a demigod as if it was wine and bread. 

And every night the queen of Eden wept, yet her name had been made Eve, and she had been called goddess and demon. And all her prayers were answered by El. And no answer gave her anything but pain.

Yet the words cried over the world. And as the other gods cherished their kingdoms, they had all agreed not to leave, and they wished to not affect Eden for it was El's. And when they met in secret they argued. 

And Lilith cried, "For who will support us? For who will cry for freedom? If El took me it is proof his tyranny is a threat to liberty anywhere. And who shall say the folk of Eden do not have the same rights as all of humanity?"

And Horus argued, "If he comes again he will be fought back to Eden. But Eden is his, it is our law."

And Hel replied, "But if Eden's borders grow will they not then be a danger to all?"

And Athena refuted her, "You speak only for your care of the people of Eden. But you and I both know they will not expand, for they are barren in their name and lands."

And for seven weeks they argued, as their people felt fear without them. Until Quetzalcoatl stopped them all, "There are many words yet no actions, my radiance will meet with that of one soul in Eden. And if that is enough for El to fall, so be it, if not we may weep for them." And Quetzalcoatl bid his people farewell, hoping he would one day see North America again, as he knew he would soon be under the dark skies of Eden. 

In the garden of the king of Eden, where trees had been dedicated to El and his power, Eve wept in the night. And in front of her appeared Quetzalcoatal and he was radiant and powerful, with ten hundred teeth, and scales of gold, and feathers of every color, and Eve knew not of any other god so she called upon him, "Serpent? Why have you come upon this land? Why walk in the garden of Eden when you have wings, and thus can be free?"

And Quetzalcoatl replied, "I walk here for I know of the eternal life your god El speaks of. I know that when your husband shall be a lich he shall have no knowledge of good and evil, and the last ability for him to love without El will fade from his heart. And Adam will make his armies conquer the world, and bring the fear of El upon all the peoples he can find and kill."

And Eve asked the feathered serpent, "Then if you are god as he is, then could you defy El. And with that power could I be free of Eden?"

And he bowed his head, and his teeth like daggers spoke of comfort, "If I am God as El is god then you may defy him as, and with that power you will be free of Eden as Lilith was."

She asked, "If that is so, how do I defy?"

As Queztalcoatl spoke, she flew away, "If he forbids the fruit of those trees then you must eat of them."

And Eve freed herself, and tasted the fig seeds that El called his own. And she knew that El was not god, and that good and evil were her own to decide. And she felt the curls of her hair and knew they were her own, and felt the black robes on her body and knew they were her own. 

Adam rushed in the garden, having seen the glory of the serpent flying away. And as he saw Eve weeping on the floor he saw the tears he had once made Lilith cry, and saw a being free from all tyranny for her mind was her own, and none could call her thoughts crimes. And for a moment he felt the smallest love, and knew what he could have felt for her, what he could have felt for Lilith, would have been so much more than any love that came from serving El. And as if he was still in the innocence of before she knew of gods, he ate of the fruit as well. 

El felt anger that night like he had never felt before. Rage that only a god who thought he was the only creature who deserved to be called god could feel. And he was their God, and as God he burnt Eden and said that its name could never be known again, and knew then he would be the God of the world.

And Adam and Eve would crawl the world together and barbarians, and found a dynasty that El would hate as he would hate all things. And the god Quetzalcoatl would be stripped of his wings, and forced to crawl the world with them, and he would not return to North America, but in his stead would come the barbaric warriors of El, as the feathered serpent could only weep from a far. 

And El swore to the heavens of greater gods, "I shall be the only god. And I shall conquer.”

[lettherebemonsters]

“Apologies for the intrusion, brother, but Counsellor Troi requires your presence in her quarters; your session has commenced 7 minutes and 23 seconds ago. Is your internal chronometer malfunctioning? If that is the case, I could inform the Counsellor that your session will have to be postponed and that you will be seeing Geordi first, for repairs…” — For, you guessed it, Lore!

Lore hated the sessions with Troi. There was nothing overtly wrong with her, but he remembered what he had done when he had been The One.

He knew humans....or any organics....didn't forget things either. Being on this ship, surrounded by people who made it a point to remind him how he'd never measure up to precious Data....

It was like being trapped on Omicron Theta again.

Lore had just wanted to be alone and went to the holodecks, activating a memory of a time before he was left to rot....before he knew what hatred was.

The room opened up to a field of beautiful flowers. Strange flowers grown specifically for Omicron Theta, and a source of pride and joy for Julianna.

Lore watched as he sat on the grass, observing his mother.....and a bright eyed, happy and cheerful android. Himself.

He was only a few weeks old at that point in the memory, and the apple of his mother's eye. He followed her everywhere, enjoyed her company. Wanting to help and learn.

Something that infuriated Noonien....that the android HE slaved to build was a mommy's boy.

They were busy picking flowers that day for one of her art projects. Lore with a basket and a hat to keep the sun from getting into his eyes.

He was just....so happy. So carefree. There wasn't the evil that had consumed him. In a way....he was just like Data back then.

" Mother, what do you think about this flower? It looks different from the others."

Julianna went to take a look.

" It's wonderful Lore! But let's leave it be for now. It'd be a shame to kill it now.....let's let it grow a little bit more."

The very young android smiled.

" Okay! I saw a few blue flowers nearby. Those would be great for the bouquet!"

Lore sat watching, reliving those happy days. Not exactly happy that this moment was interrupted by his brother.

It was his private memory. He didn't need to share it with anyone else.

[traditional-with-a-twist]

lviii. Beauty and Her Beast

<<Previous || first arc || second arc || third arc || AO3 || Next>>

After the spectacular victory at sea, Tanbarun had commenced a systematic purging of the Claw’s associates.

This had proved difficult.

Headless, the limbs scattered — vanishing into hideaways and boltholes, melting back into the anonymity of the underworld.

For every pirate the soldiers captured, two more evaded them.

...

The smugglers’ elusiveness frustrated justice, but it posed at worst a tepid threat. The sea witch had masterminded the vilest of their evils; she alone sported the fangs of the operation.

Umihebi had carved blood and misery across the seas.

She had built an empire, trading in flesh. She had defied the might of the royal navy and the merchant marine, digging her nest so deeply that its tendrils extended all throughout the land before she was rooted out at last.

By trapping her, the joint forces of Prince Raj and Prince Zen had lifted a scourge from the kingdom, freed it from a menace that stalked its borders and devoured its children.

They had laid to rest a malignant enemy.

Without her venom, the thugs at her command might snap at the heels of Tanbarunian society, but they would not imperil civil order or the health of the body politic.

Now Umihebi walked free again.

...

Word of the danger spread quickly.

News, rumors, began circulating. The countryside felt the shivers of realignment as people followed.

The more unsavory characters wound towards the source of disturbance, drawn like buzzards by the promise of blood. Whispers followed in their wake, warning of a force gathering — a hatred building.

Safety was west.

Obi went east.

...

He had left something behind him in that bedroom with Torou. He no longer sought distraction.

No more would he search for a way to forget or suppress the memories, as if he could find a cure for his regrets. This was no malady plaguing him, no medical condition. He was not ill — he was guilty of a crime.

He stopped visiting towns and taverns after that — stopped looking for ways to drown or stifle thoughts of her.

...

His mind roamed more wildly than his feet, vacillating confusedly from remorse to accusation. Where had he gone wrong — leaving? Staying? Asking her to be him? Discarding her and the home they had built together?

Every decision seemed suspect; entirely contrary choices struck him as equally wrong-headed, equally inimical to everything good.

How had he dared to presume he could care for her — how had he dared to abandon her?

...

Obi knew no rest, in soul or body.

He had always been a light and fitful sleeper, prone to snatching cat naps on window sills, sofas, beds that belonged to someone else — but now he knew not when he slept. 

He would come to himself in a wood somewhere, unconscious of whether he had dreamed or only sunk into a reverie. 

Other travelers passed him by, perhaps unaware of his presence, perhaps drawing back as instinctively as animals shied from the dangerous of their kind — scenting death in the walking wounded.

...

He felt marked, a  wanderer like Cain, cursed by his own transgressions — but he had lived on the wrong side of the law for many years.

This time a chasm had opened, between himself and the rest of humanity, such as he had never known in all his years in the underworld.

It would be easy enough to let the world grind him to nothing, as it had always tried in any case, but there was something to do first — one thing he had left to take care of.

...

Obi followed that undefined sense of incompleteness to a rough town near the border — “town” being a generous term.

It was one of those the places of buying and selling sprung up in conjunction with the crossing patrolled by their neighbors to the east.

Here, one might change money, change papers, change your identity even — and buy a drink, of course.

...

No such shadow town would be complete without a place for men to wet their throats, but this hub in particular did a brisk business in reallocating confiscated liquor.

The eastern empire did not smile on spirits, as many an ill-informed merchant discovered to his chagrin.

Sometimes a  finely aged brew would find its way to the dusty tables.

Other times, Obi thought, as he watched the bartender fill his glass, it might as well have been ditchwater.

...

He sat back and surveyed the room, his mind assessing, appraising each party.

Many drank alone, but a band was gathering against one wall.

They drifted in by ones and twos, ostensibly occupied with a game of darts, but Obi noted few heads turned in direction of the play and little interest in its progress.

The men were more occupied with consulting, murmuring to each other in low voices while their eyes flitted from face to face.

...

He downed his glass.

It tasted worse than it looked, but this mattered nothing to Obi.

Perhaps his body had reached its limits at last — perhaps there was a point beyond which a man could feel no more.

Obi rose. 

He was about to find out.

...

He strolled up to the dart game like a blind, deaf dog robbed of its scent faculties — oblivious, in short, to every sign thrown out to signal his unwelcome.

The men glowered, shifted together, closed ranks against him.

A fellow with an eye patch, stationed at the group’s periphery to head off interlopers, gave him a look that was downright mean.

Obi sauntered past, headed straight for the thick of their band.

All their low murmuring ceased.

...

A few watched him coldly; others fingered the weapons at their belts.

One lifted a short, heavy-handled knife. With a grunt, he sent it spinning through the air to bury itself in the black ring surrounding the dart board’s bullseye.

A moment later, Obi’s leaf blade joined it — dead center.

Now he had their attention.

...

'Do you know how it is when they punish a thief?' His knife blade dances between his fingers. 'It is different in every country. 

‘In the south, they charge a fine. In the north, they lock you up. 

‘Go east, and they cut off a hand.' 

The blade spins through the air; he catches it with his fingertips. 'But no one has invented a punishment for my crime.'

...

“Listen, you miserable whelp,” growled a hook-nosed man, eyes burning beneath the low brim of his hat. “Do you have any idea who you’re jabbering at?”

The corners of Obi’s mouth curled up.

He raised his hand, three fingers bent in, and pawed the air in an unmistakable slash — the kind he had found carved into a tree, a lifetime ago in Tanbarun.

Obi cocked his head, holding their gaze. “Meow?”

...

A heavy hand descended on Obi’s shoulder.

It was the man with the eye patch, and his fingers gripped like steel.

“That’s a nice story you’ve got there,” he said softly, leaning in close to fix Obi with his good eye. “I know somebody who’d like to hear you tell it.”

[ina-nis]

I think most random adults are not really looking for friendships.

Those with already established friend groups often don't care to expand their social circles. (x)

That’s precisely it.

This is one of the reason why time doesn’t work with AVPD. This is one of the reasons why the more time goes on, the more isolating it feels.

Let’s say you spend your formative years struggling:

Maybe the problems started in childhood, due to neglect and peer rejection. Instead of learning how to form secure attachments and social skills, you were lagging behind. To counter that, you started mimicking your peers and masking in front of adults.

Somehow, you still have “friends” (classmates) and a “support system” (a dysfunctional family).

Maybe as a teenager, you suffer bullying and feel alienated from your peers for being “weird”, having “weird” interests, looking and sounding “weird” and so forth. You might feel the first taste of discrimination (ableism, queerphobia, etc) and that further pushes you into a corner and away from others. You’re unable to fit with peers your age, and most tries end up in rejection. You try to hang out with people with the same interests then, broadening your horizons, you realize that a lot of the connection is conditional, and there’s a lot of untold rules and rituals. There’s financial, energy and time constraints, on top of the emotional issues too.

You start distancing yourself from people, and they leave you be, since you’ll always tell them you’re “alright” and “there’s nothing wrong”, you’re “just busy/tired.”

Maybe as a young adult, things seem to improve some. There’s more chances for connections at secondary education and/or employment. You keep experimenting and trying to find your place in yourself and in the world. Maybe you have the help of a therapist or counselor too. You start tackling the trauma issues and internalized self-hatred, among other things. You keep on finding refugee in online communities as you’ve been doing for a few years already.

You find the joy and pleasure in solitude and dedicate most of you time to solitary activities, you don’t address the elephant in the room and notices that trying to do that is not only pointless, it also causes you distress. True avoidance commences.

Maybe as an adult, you start noticing that not having the social foundation you ought to have at this age make some things extremely difficult but, of course, you can just avoid them indefinitely. It’s somehow even harder to relate to peers in your age group (because you’re probably stuck with “childish” interests), and without a social life, there’s not much reason to go outside if not to do chores or exercise.

You want to repair the damage and be able to connect with people, finally. You’re in a better place mentally and/or physically. You’re ready for it now but... there’s nothing, and your attempts led to nothing. You can count on some of your online friends, of course, but that’s different from having people in person; the support and relationship is different too. It’s not on the same level and never will be. A screen will never be a substitute for a real human being.

And you seek out, but people are busy with their families, their careers, their established relationships and bonds with their own peers. There’s no place for new ones, it takes a lot of energy and effort for that - you probably don’t feel like it because you don’t have that yourself.

You’re a blank slate that doesn’t fit anywhere.

If you haven’t used all those years to build something meaningful with your life, it’s very likely that you won’t do that now that you’re older and tired. And it’s very likely that you won’t find many people willing to put up the effort and time to make things work for and with you.

The future is grim.

[thefamilyeldritchabomination]

Chapter Nine: Pan Pt. 4

Envy took a pause for the moment, realizing this was the first time that Dolly had mentioned her abandonment to them. They could care less about the sentimentality about humanity or whatever the hell this Oscar was, but there was one thing that confused Envy. Why wasn’t there the bitter hatred towards the ones that abandoned Dolly in the first place? Didn’t Dolly want revenge for what they’ve done towards her? Shouldn’t that be the same mutual response to abandonment? It made Envy feel a sense of nausea afterwards, thinking about the lack of bitter hatred or longing for revenge.

 “Is everything alright?” Dolly asked, getting a bit concerned by the length of the pause.

 “You’re a bit of a freak, you know that?” Envy finally responded, Dolly raising an eyebrow at  the response.

 “Well I certainly do my very best to be the freakiest of freaks out there, so thanks.” Dolly said in a cheery tone, deciding to just roll with the casual insult.

 “Whatever, look, I’ll let you continue looking at the museum on your own. I need to do something quickly anyways.” Envy relented, clearly they weren’t going to get the same response as the Fullmetal Pipsqueak.

 Dolly watched as Envy left so abruptly and was left to wonder if it was something she said. Hesitantly, Dolly went along with looking at the exhibit while Envy went off to do whatever horrible homunculus thing they’re up to. Horrible things were in fact brewing, but not with the rage fueled homunculus. No, a small grandmotherly looking old woman had been visiting the museum out of pure coincidence when she noticed her lately distracted offspring in disguise at the special exhibit. Initially, Dante was going to have a private chat with Envy, however, that changed upon noticing some girl she wasn’t made aware of, a wrinkled scowl forming on Dante’s face. Creeping closer like the aged predator she was, Dante made her way towards Dolly. Dolly froze a bit when she smelled that strong odor of human decay and she slowly started making her way out of the special exhibit, making sure it looked like she was still touring it. A small smirk that could’ve passed as a gentle smile was forming on Dante’s face, she had always enjoyed a good hunt.

 A silent chase had commenced, the museum goers not noticing the event going on. Anytime Dante drew too close, Dolly would dart over to the next station. It was something Dante had anticipated though, Dolly was getting closer to the exhibit exit which would lead to the darkened halls of the minerals and fossils exhibit. This hall was narrow and hard to truly maneuver, making an attempted escape near impossible. It was like leading a lamb to the slaughter in Dante’s aged eyes. Just two more installations away from the exit and Dante would get her way. Dante kept playing her card, forcing Dolly to dodge from the last two remaining stations before ultimately forcing Dolly to open and walk into the minerals and fossils exhibit. Gripping the handle of the door with her wrinkled vulture-like talons called hands, Dante grinned in a sickening manner as she opened the door to the next exhibit, expecting Dolly to be there for an easy confrontation. 

 There was no one there as Dante entered, her expression starting with surprise before blooming into one of annoyance that her target somehow slipped away. Taking in a breath, Dante continued through the minerals and fossils as if the chase hadn’t even happened. This would have to be a long term game, Dante did have the means of doing so and let her plan a better punishment by the end of this game. First though, Dante would need to give an order or two for one of the homunculi to be delivered and a body to steal. Meanwhile, at the beginning of the special exhibit, Dolly reappeared after the emergency teleport. It was hard to believe that horrendous corpse lady had attempted to have a confrontation in a museum of all places in Dolly’s mind. Heresy and sacrilege were the first two words that popped into Dolly’s mind over the whole situation. Definitely, a fight will have to happen on better grounds rather than a museum or a library. Collecting herself after that brief encounter, Dolly waited a bit for Envy to return as she hung around the mummies for a bit.

 Making their way back to where they last left Dolly, Envy was hastily getting away from the gift shop after committing theft. To put simply, it would be an indignity to throw cash away in a dusty dump and if Envy wanted something, they were going to get it. The journal and a keychain tucked away under their moth-eaten argyle vest, Envy unwittingly walked past Dante as she went to exit the museum, glowering a bit at her offspring before disappearing into the crowd. It didn’t take long for Envy to see Dolly at the entrance of the special exhibit, surprised that she had finished it so soon.

 “You’re finished early, what happened? Did you get bored already?” Envy asked in a taunting manner, though this was concerning even for the heinous little sadist.

 “I’m alright, just had a bit of a creepy encounter is all.” Dolly explained, wanting to not dwell too much on the incident.

 “What happened?” Envy nearly growled upon hearing that, giving off the exact same tension as before with the Greed incident. “Well this really creepy old woman was following me a bit, but I managed to escape her.” Dolly said, looking concerned with the sudden change in demeanor. 

 “And now we’re leaving the museum.” Envy decided, not needing to think much after hearing the ‘creepy old lady’ bit.

 No protests were had as Envy grabbed onto Dolly’s wrist and started to haul their way back to the entry point. In the long time Envy had been around, this was truly the first time they had felt fear. What scared Envy most, Dante hadn’t even tried to pursue after her ‘target’ slipped away from her gnarled talons. There was a chance that it was a different old woman, but, in the back of Envy’s mind, it was likely Dante and that wasn’t good news. Not wasting time, Envy shoved Dolly through the entry to the sewer before closing the door behind. The tense silence lingered for a bit, partially on Dolly’s end to let Envy calm down and on Envy’s end to rationalize what just occurred. Ten minutes passed as they stood in the sewers before Dolly decided to break the silence. “Envy, what happened back up there?” Dolly asked, concerned about the reaction and the sudden exit. “Okay Pipsqueak, listen to me carefully. That old woman could’ve been Dante, she sometimes comes to the museum to reminisce. I didn’t even expect Dante to be there since she had visited last week. You’re going to have to stay in the complex for a while, at least until Dante swaps out bodies. By then I’ll introduce you to her so at least she could understand you’re a homunculus.” Envy finally said, breaking their silence after thinking about the scenario. “Wait, you’re telling me she was shopping for bodies like a hermit crab hunts for a new shell?” Dolly was now pretty disgusted with the corpse lady. “Again, a weird way to connect things, but yeah, Dante is like a hermit crab looking for a new shell.” Envy started relaxing a little, knowing Dolly was still able to make weird analogies.

 “It’ll be alright, we got out of the museum and plus, she likely didn’t know you were there.” Dolly incorrectly said.

 “At least you’re optimistic about this near disaster encounter. Come on, we’ll pick up something on the way back.” Envy said as they started to lead Dolly through the sewer once more. “Sure, what should we pick up?” Dolly asked as she began to follow Envy once more. “I’m thinking of getting a blackberry mead.” Envy answered, subconsciously letting the past come through as a craving.

 As they went on, Envy slipped something into Dolly’s hand, a keychain of the jade plate with the little angst pickle creature on it. Dolly smiled warmly and thanked Envy for the gift, not knowing it was pretty much shoplifted. Up above at the apartment complex, Lust had managed to come to terms that her life had indeed been turned upside down and made peace with the horrible clay abomination when there was a knock on the door. Silently, Lust instructed Dorian to hide as she went to answer the door with Sloth standing there with a crate of the requested goods in hand. Relief was the first thing on Lust’s face as it was just a simple exchange as she accepted the crate and handed Sloth her cookie tin. The things they wanted were all there, the wines, the luxury snacks, bathing supplies, the Kirsch, and oddly enough, a lovely floral arrangement in a rather expensive looking vase. Not thinking too much of it, Lust placed the arrangement under the infamous wall art as she went about sorting the items out. The arrangement stood proudly on display, hiding its little secret compartment as a small recording device started its mission.

=======================================================================

 The ride to Dublith was long and boring, being able to have a solo run without a mandatory babysitter had been one of a mixed blessing. Edward sighed as he just watched the passing landscapes go by, often catching glimpses of Alphonse slipping some of the leftover donuts into his chest cavity. An eyebrow was raised when the sounds of something alive rustling inside of Alphonse caught Edward’s attention. Sitting straight up and figuring it was another stray cat situation, Edward leaned towards Alphonse’s chest.

“Al, you know we can’t keep cats and you also know cats are obligate carnivores. Those donuts can’t be good for the…” Edward said as he opened the chest, only to be greeted by the little red clay lion sloppily devouring donuts.

“Meow~” Said Ernest in a raspy adult man’s voice as he posed a bit in front of Edward, bits of donut dripping from his mouth.

“THAT IS NOT A CAT WHAT THE HELL AL!?” Edward yelled out in shock at a talking clay construct that had a clear personality problem.

“But Ed, he’s funny and nice! Ernest just wanted to come along with us.” Alphonse attempted to reason with his Brother about keeping a hideous crime against nature.

“Yeah Ed, I’m funny and nice!” Ernest said in a way that would’ve been befitting of the big bad wolf in front of the three little pigs, trying to get into their home.

“Alphonse, we are not keeping…whatever the hell that thing is!” Edward said, scrambling away from the mockery of alchemy.

“Hey now Edward, I’m a friend. You can trust me to be of absolute use to you and your unique little brother. I only accept payments in donuts though.” Ernest smoothly said with that raspy voice.

“Seriously, you’re going to ask me, a sixteen year old, to pay you in donuts?” Edward asked unamused by the already surreal moment.

“Well yeah, I mean I can’t ask you to buy me cigars.” Ernest reasoned in his own defense.

“Okay that’s a good point there.” Edward had to agree that the donuts were the lesser evil than having to pay in cigars.

“So, what do you say, Edward? Do we have a bargain?” Ernest purred a bit as he held out his horrid amalgamated hand paw to Edward to shake.

Edward took his time to consider the offer, which was obviously in Ernest’s favor since he hadn’t once mentioned Edward’s size and correctly guessed that Alphonse was the younger brother. Ernest in the meantime waited patiently, afterall, he would still be in a win-win sort of situation either way. All Ernest would need to do for the time being was to play along with the two Elric brothers until he could find the perfect place to settle down in and escape from them in the dead of night. In the meantime, Ernest would get protection, a means of travel, and free food. Plus, who would go after teenagers? It was a perfect failsafe plan in Ernest’s mind as Edward decided to shake the clay hand of Ernest.

“Okay, fine, you have a deal, but the deal will be off if you call me short or little.” Edward said as he made eye contact with Ernest who in turn shaked Edward’s hand.

“Fair, I’m a little guy myself, so I don’t take too fondly of being called that either and ugly, I don’t like being called ugly.” Ernest ‘agreed’ to the verbal contract with his own terms.

The train pulled up to the station in Dublith, Edward carefully closing Alphonse’s chest plate and grabbing his suitcase in the other. It’ll be an awkward enough time with their teacher, Izumi, to bring the bad news that her feral homunculus child had joined the other homunculi that have been plaguing him and his brother for way too long of a time. Now they would have to covertly keep the little clay monster Alphonse found hidden during the visit. In the background, near the station, Greed and his chimeras watched as the Elrics entered town, Greed having recovered from the truck from hell ordeal gave a sharp tooth grin. It was about time that he should make the Elrics aware of this homunculus’s existence and find out the secret to Alphonse’s armored body.

[90363462]

Kanye Is Never Coming Back From This

“I can say  antisemitic things and Adidas can’t drop me,” the artist formerly known as Kanye West proclaimed on Drink Champs just over a week ago. “Now what?” he rhetorically asked, with the sneering audacity of a man whose millions of dollars, millions of fans, and substantial high-powered connections have carried him through numerous instances of public backlash over the past 20 years. But that day is over.

Today, Adidas dropped him after a month in which he’s consistently asserted that he’s up against a cabal of Jewish people who control the world. His Yeezy partnership with Adidas was the core of his reported $2 billion net worth; without that deal, his billionaire status has reportedly been “obliterated.” Kanye’s musical and entrepreneurial endeavors have always been fueled by him foregrounding a barrier, imaginary or real, to stride beyond. That defining trait was endearing until his crosshairs veered from those doubting his musical chops into Black people who criticized his MAGA ties, and now to Jewish people. His recent antisemitic comments, coming after a long stretch of constantly escalating spectacle-chasing, have finally made him too radioactive for his influential allies. 

Adidas joins a long list of high-powered brands like JP Morgan Chase, CAA, Balenciaga, and Vogue that have severed ties from Ye in the past month. MRC has shelved a previously-filmed documentary about him. Ari Emanuel, CEO of William Morris Endeavor, wrote an op-ed calling for companies to stop working with Ye. UTA CEO Jeremy Zimmer also implored his partners to “please support the boycott of Kanye West” because “powerful voices spewing hatred have frequently driven people to do hateful things.”

This latest torrent of controversy began with the strong negative response elicited by the “White Lives Matter” T-shirts that Ye wore alongside conservative pundit Candace Owens at his Yeezy Season 9 fashion show earlier this month. His friend Diddy defended him in public at first, telling the Breakfast Club that “a lot of times, what he means is, like, misconstrued.” Privately, the Bad Boy founder contacted Ye to offer some advice — only for Ye to rebuff him, post their texts on Instagram, and warn, “Never call me with no bulls— like that again unless you ready to green light me cause anybody who got on that tee is me.” Ye then commenced social media dustups with Supreme creative director Tremaine Emory, Boosie, and Meek Mill, all of whom criticized the shirt and railed at Ye for a variety of reasons. The whole incident might have seemed at first like another instance of Ye’s personal struggles with mental health, and/or his longtime habit of seeking headlines to promote his latest venture.

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But then, Kanye theorized that the people who came out against him weren’t simply upset at his anti-Blackness, but that they were agents “sent” by Jewish people. On Oct. 9, he infamously tweeted his plans to “go death con 3 ON JEWISH PEOPLE,” blaming Jewish people for “starting cancel culture,” expressing that “the funny thing is I actually can’t be Anti Semitic because black people are actually Jew also,” and adding, “you guys have toyed with me and tried to black ball anyone whoever opposes your agenda.”

His Twitter and Instagram accounts were immediately suspended. Days later, he did a since-deleted interview on N.O.R.E.’s Drink Champs podcast where he falsely alleged that former Minnesota cop Derek Chauvin’s knee “wasn’t even on [George Floyd’s] neck like that,” and continued his assault on the so-called “Jewish media.” The interview was taken down after widespread backlash (and the late George Floyd’s family is planning to file a $250 million lawsuit against Ye) — but it was soon followed with even more conversations with Tucker Carlson and Piers Morgan, in which Ye kept the same hateful tenor going. He told Morgan that he was “sorry for the people that I hurt with the ‘Death Con’” tweet,” but never explicitly took back any of what he said about his plans to “#MeToo the Jewish culture.” 

Ye’s stated views seem to fall in line with those of the most extreme Black Hebrew Israelite sects, who believe that they’re the original descendants of the ancient Israelites, or the “true Jews.” These groups are known for their stubborn conservatism and the fiery espousal of their beliefs that white Jews represent the “synagogue of Satan.” Kodak Black is a self-admitted Hebrew Israeilite, and Kendrick Lamar has referenced their thinking in his music, though neither artist has expressed a belief that Jewish people are inherently evil or run the world. But Ye isn’t the only entertainer to make explicitly antisemitic comments in recent years, either. In 2021, Nick Cannon apologized for implying that “Jewish people, white people, Europeans” have a “deficiency” that caused them to be “savages” on his podcast. Ice Cube has a lengthy history of dabbling in antisemitism, rapping “They said I could sing like a jaybird/But nigga, don’t say the J-word” in 1992 after earlier lyrics about Jewish people drew criticism, and tweeting various antisemitic memes decades later in 2020. Ye told Drink Champs that Ice Cube inspired his “antisemite vibe,” but Ice Cube distanced himself from the implication, tweeting, “I’m not antisemitic and never have been.” 

Entertainers who have been lambasted for antisemitic comments have usually apologized after being called out, but Ye is adamantly refusing to back down, repeatedly stating that he’s willing to die for his beliefs. Those who’ve previously chalked up his controversial comments to his mental health challenges can’t overlook how lucidly and calmly he’s been expressing his hate speech across multiple interviews, dating back several years now. Former TMZ staffer Van Lathan has alleged that Ye said something to the effect of “I love Hitler” during his 2018 “slavery was a choice” interview, but that it didn’t make the final clip “for whatever reason.” 

It’s worth noting that while Ye’s alleged Hitler support (which he hasn’t denied) was seemingly the third rail that TMZ wouldn’t air, him trivializing 400 years of American chattel slavery made the final cut. Perhaps that wasn’t offensive enough in a world that subsists on anti-Blackness. Many Black people were upset at his comments, but our mere outrage wasn’t enough to push him off his pedestal. Too many of us found validity in Ye’s MAGA rhetoric; too few were ready to organize and hurt him with a mass boycott. Many entertainers, entrepreneurs, and athletes within the so-called Black elite are his peers. Not only did they not publicly denounce him in 2018, they’ve since collaborated with him and, in the case of Revolt, offered him a platform to project harmful ideas. His fans have continued to buy Yeezy apparel, attend his Sunday Service events, and stream his Donda listening sessions to record-breaking effect. His corporate ties and cultural influence made him too powerful to be held accountable for throwing Black people under the bus. As much as this saga is a glimpse at one man’s endless self-sabotage, it’s also a glimpse of how little weight Black people’s grievances seem to hold in this country.

Before Adidas dropped him, Ye proudly claimed that he’s the richest Black person on earth. Even if one believed that, it should also be noted that net worth is just a loose estimate of a portfolio’s value. The more Ye alienates himself from the world’s biggest brands and turns off the general public, the less value his businesses will have, and that estimation will continue to plummet. If he refuses to apologize for his comments, that will likely make it even harder for many touring companies, management firms, fashion retailers, and media outlets to partner with him. The hypothetical CEO who’d want to support him would have to worry about the repercussions from partners who may back away from them. He claims to have the funds to float his own operation, and that’s what he may have to do after this wave of divestment. 

Last weekend, Axios ran a column that suggested “America is on the verge of the first truly parallel universe presidential campaign — where the parties speak to distinct groups of voters, in distinct media ecosystems, pushing distinct realities.” This country has long been ideologically siloed, and that dynamic is tangibly manifesting with conservative media outlets and social media platforms like Parler, which Ye recently moved to purchase. He has about 40 thousand followers on the platform, which is a far cry from his 31.5 million followers back on Twitter, but he can be assured that Parler is his soapbox, and he can say what he wants to his base with few consequences. That ostracized existence may be the new normal for Ye after this month.

He’s become so submerged in his ego that he’s essentially deciding to trade off his cultural ubiquity to be a beacon of hate for a small minority of conservatives who desire Black people as lapdogs for their beliefs. He’s also galvanizing Nazis like the ones in L.A. who said he “was right” last weekend. It’s questionable if these people have any interest in buying his clothes, listening to his music, or coming to his shows for the foreseeable future. But these Nazis do want to kill Jewish people, and his recent comments helped push their hateful perspective into the mainstream. In 2010, Ye rhymed “no one man should have all that power,” and he’s spent the next decade plus proving it. Now, his self-sabotage has stripped a good deal of that power away. 

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