#speaking into a void but im so mad

[phosawa]

.

[tarobumma]

there are so many things u can say about the goldfinch (2019) movie but my personal nitpick of it that i will never get over is how they made kitsey not wear the emerald earrings at the engagement party. i feel like its such a small but important moment in characterising her and theo’s relationship. 

it takes place after theo confronts kitsey about cheating, so at this point they’re both fully aware how much of an act their relationship/engagement is, and how much they both don’t love each other, at least not the way they should. 

theres something so uncharacteristically tender about it. i truly think this is the only moment of actual real understanding and vulnerability between them. the fact that kitsey chooses to wear them, even though she was right - they don’t suit her - but she’s decided that the fact that they mean something to theo is more important. 

for kitsey, willingly choosing something that blemishes her perfect appearance is so at odds to what we’ve seen of her until now. kitsey’s entire reason for being in a sham relationship with theo is to do with keeping up appearances. 

i think people tend to overlook that kitsey is also dealing with a lot of trauma (in recently losing andy and her dad) and i just feel that this tiny excerpt lifts so much weight in characterising and deepening our perspective of her and her relationship with theo. 

in wearing the earrings, kitsey is acknowledging theo’s vulnerabilities, and i almost feel that in recognising his grief and loss, she exposes her own. and its so fascinating because really this shared experience is what binds them, but is the one thing they never directly acknowledge. this is their one moment of actual honest tenderness and transparency towards each other, and i also love how its immediately followed by everyone at the engagement party interpreting it as a romantic moment and being like, ‘omg finally the happy couple interacting!’ and taking photos of them, etc. the reader is immediately taken out of the intimacy of the moment and swept back into the glaringly contrasting performativity and facade of their relationship. 

[apocalyptic-byler]

i messed up on an english assignment. i am going to cry

[z00r0p4]

it is so hard to discern whether a med (with a potential side effect of increased depression) is making u depressed or its bc u have pms and u were in ur sad bitch hours already before u started the med !!!!!!

[galatikid]

Isaac Yaga is not kenough. Isaac Yaga is broKen.

[capri851]

Me when voice actors don’t sound like their characters

[glacierclear]

Having some mad fuckboy!Leon thoughts rn

After he's unlearned all the stuff he taught himself and is basically done with the whole fuckboy thing oh man he would be SO soft. Holding your hand? Check. Cuddling at his dorm? Check. Being more gentle and loving during sex? Also check.

Also, stealing his hoodies. He'd melt for sure

oh, for sure. healed fuckboy!leon would be a SIGHT TO BEHOLD.

he wouldn't be perfect...

progress isn't linear. he'd stumble a lot. make a lot of mistakes and backward steps. you would need to be patient. you would need to be careful. especially in the early stages. because damn, he's trying. he's trying so hard. and you need to acknowledge the effort, even if it's hard to see, because any praise towards this will mean so much to him.

it'd come out especially on his bad days. he's more impatient. short-tempered. lashes out over seemingly mundane things. you'll need to be firm but not demeaning. catch his tells, his habits, and figure out the real reason he's behaving the way he is.

you'll need to slowly teach him the true depth of his words. that they hurt you just as much as they hurt him. he's unfamiliar with the idea of accountability, so you need to teach him about consequences. let him know you're upset and angry at him. but just because you're upset doesn't mean he's irredeemable. he'll assume any pushback is you ending things permanently. he needs the space to fuck up and forgive himself.

and damn it all, he's the jealous type. possessive. protective as all hell. it's toxic, and you need to teach him boundaries. it'll be tough. he worked so fucking hard to get you, doesn't he deserve to have you the way he needs? but no. you need freedom. he'll learn eventually, but be prepared to send a lot of "im safe and i miss u" texts to him when you're out with friends.

speaking of toxic. the toxic masculinity will be hell to unpack. sometimes it's nice! he insists on you being passenger princess. he insists on picking up the bill (well, once you're actually dating). he doesn't mind taking care of spiders (and fine, just because you asked nicely, he won't kill them). but...the bads get real bad.

displaying any kind of vulnerable emotion is like pulling teeth. when he's nervous, scared, anxious...he'll take it out on others. or himself. early progress will be made when he's blackout drunk and spilling everything to you. he reveals the deepest, most fragile parts of himself on these nights. it's like he's an entirely different person. and the next morning he'll do his best to sweep it all under the rug, but you have to fight for it. accept him and love him despite how "totally fucking lame" he acted (his words, not yours).

that being said. the good parts? oh yeah. Boyfriend Material 100%.

he'd do anything for you. anything. don't even say shit as a joke because he'll do it. at a certain point he doesn't even care if his friends think he's being stupid. you're his whole world. he'd wear stupid t-shirts for you. go to that concert you're dying to see even if he thinks the music sucks. he'll bash his head into a wall and learn to bake french pastries if it'll get you to smile. through hell and high water, he'll follow.

and yeah, he weans himself off social media. stops posting thirst trap photos and cuts ties with his sneaky links. but the lack of external validation is felt, and it kind of falls on you to fill the void. clingy won't even begin to describe what he is. he'll resort to begging. he will. late to work in the morning? that's not his problem. you're staying in that damn bed and you are cuddling him. you think him wearing tank tops in the middle of December is just a dumb mistake, but you catch on quick when he starts to shiver and needs to huddle you for warmth. "you want me to die of hypothermia? c'mon, babe. get closer." and yeah. those ice cold hands are going straight on your stomach. have fun.

part of the excitement will come from truly learning who he is as a person. most of his herculean facade is a persona. he doesn't actually like beer. he likes dry whiskey and refined clear liquors. he doesn't actually enjoy parties. the crowds make him nauseous, and he can always blame it on the alcohol. he's not actually all that into sports. you figure out he has a well-loved public library card and he knows the mystery section like the back of his hand. he's vibrant. shockingly intelligent. gets that light in his eyes when you nudge him about his interests. it'll be hard to get him to admit it, but his favorite part of the week is huddling on the couch watching nature documentaries with you.

and it's a two-way street. he remembers everything about you. early on in your relationship you casually assume he'll never keep track of the important dates. that's the stereotype, right? you couldn't be more wrong. birthdays. anniversaries. doctor's appointments. your fucking dog's yearly vaccine. he won't necessarily go all-out, not until you're more of a long-term thing, but what he does is meaningful. sincere. you won't get $500 of flowers and chocolate for valentine's day, but he'll abduct you from work, drive you out far, far into the countryside. lay out a patchwork blanket and stare at the night sky. he brought your favorite brand of pita chips and sneakily worms a gift box in your hand. it's that stupid $15 thing that's been sitting in your online shopping cart for weeks that you could never justify buying. and yeah, he'd appreciate a blowjob under the stars, but seeing you happy is enough.

and you could never begin to imagine how loving and passionate he can get during sex. it's totally different than his usual flavor. casual hook-ups and one-night stands are merely a fraction of his power. he tends to avoid intimate gestures on those nights. no eye-contact. hardly any kissing. he likes it rough and he likes it fast. but with you? he takes his time. commits your body to muscle memory. his gaze is intense, and he watches every reaction, trying to map out your flesh like a cartographer. he'll happily make out with you for upwards of a couple hours before you even begin the real foreplay. and you always cum first. always.

oh, but if you're not a fan of PDA...he might be a problem. he's proud of you. you're the hottest thing on two legs as far as he's concerned. he'll have no issue grabbing your ass, wrapping a hand around your waist, kissing along your neck, whispering the most obscene things in your ear. it's not even to make a point. there's no rhyme or reason. he just wants to. and you're right there. and what right does the world have to tell him to stop? does it make people uncomfortable? who cares. he'll lay off if it really bugs you that much...but if he catches anyone staring at you too long he'll ramp it up. it's almost aggressive. you turn to scold him, noticing how his eyes aren't even on you. he's staring at someone else. someone who's looking at what's his.

he's a yes man, too. if you need restraint and careful guidance in your life...he's not the one. he'll support any weird, out of the blue hobby you want to pursue. if you even joke about quitting your job he'll egg you on. "i'll drive right up there and tell your boss i'll fuck his wife!" and you have to talk him down. he'll punch the sun for you. he'll be behind every impulsive purchase. every 4am trip to walmart. every instinct to feed your id. any "little treat" you want to have he'll get it. because you deserve the best. if you ever want to have a stable bank account you need the be the voice of reason. because it's not gonna be him.

yeah. he'll have a lot of problems. don't worry about that. but, at least with fuckboy!leon, you'll almost never have any doubts that he loves you. once you manage to pin his heart on his sleeve, it's there for life and it'll always be yours.

[hexhomos]

Can I ask...what actually happens with Viktor in S2?? I keep hearing people being really vague about it being Bad but I haven't seen the leaks and now cannot find out anything that isn't just someone saying they won't say anything;; I just want to temper my expectations bc I was only excited for S2 for his storyline (+ Jayce interactions) and I'm getting the impression they don't do.....much?? with it?

spoiling stuff for real under the cut

As of ep5, Viktor:

-Doesn't have his mask or armor

-Has no outspoken ideological drive

-Has never once expressed interest in the traditional venues of transhumanism ocurring all around him

-Never made blitzcrank, never did shit ONSCREEN

-The only tangible reference we get to the machine herald is this shot of cards back on s1:

I genuinely dont know if he has even 5 full minutes of actual footage across all of these episodes lmfao...

His contributions to the story are, in sequence:

-stuck in stasis. jayce waits by his bedside for over an episode

-emerges from coma, immediately rebuffs all of jayce’s warm affectionate advances to the point its a little comical. looks like a dried grape, barely any bigger. declares that he's mad over not being left to DIE; he has to go away now. he hears... her voice! oh! that girl who spoke one time in s1 and that he ignored in every scene!

-left the lab buttnaked and barefoot with a blanket jayce wrapped around him to explore the streets on zaun. a bunch of sick homeless guys (who are, of course, shimmer addicts, see my note about war on terror) think he must be augmented so they want to kill him for scraps and parts. But they dont know that viktor is jesus now. he turns his stigmata palm to that guy who sold out caitlyn in s1 and proceeds to magically cure the lepers.

-this is his last scene for a little while. we Hear Of Him when one of the disabled councilors is looking for ways to deal with his pain from the accident. arcane loves looking over the shoulder of the rich and powerful like they are the main drivers and movers of the story

-like an hour of footage later, jayce reemerges (from a nexus-type of situation) and he finds one of Viktor’s servants -- its that councilor guy-- doing something unspecified. He's surprised to see jayce and tells him that he may speak to viktor; viktor says he misses him and wants to see him and basically "my bad man i was tripping when i said that shit to you the writers needed some lazy disagreement point," but he sounds really cult-leader sleazy and jayce is really mad over being left behind. Jayce is having some flashbacks to void monsters in the other side and tells servant guy he's not allowed to let him go. Servant councilor guy says well too bad! Im going! So jayce pulverizes him with his hammer. based jayce. he looks like brown bearded dante from devil may cry

That's the ep5 clifhanger. i think you can tell how i feel.

My predictions are as follows: jayce tracks him down to his lair and we get a showdown that is a vague reference to their original character bios battle; the one where viktor sics a bunch of brainwashed people on him and the building falls over everyone from the impact. It's possible that viktor is still not wearing his armor, and in this altercation jayce beats him up so bad or dismembers him enough that in act 3 he will have built one. That feels insulting to me but they legitimately have been very lazy.

oh and jayce also has a magical stigmata now. i hope they get to scissor those things together

[wizard-beast]

the sheer amount of grief the red dwarf characters must be feeling off screen all the time astounds me, like even setting aside the incomprehensible reality of being 3 million years away from all of humanity they've all felt such extreme losses over the course of the show im surprised any of them can keep up the whole space adventures shindig

like in the series 2 to 3 timeskip lister had to give up his sons just after 3 days or risk their lives- had to watch them age at such an expedited rate if he blinked he would miss every major milestone, their first steps their first words all of it. and then to have to leave them to save them??? id be bloody inconsolable and then they just kinda move on from it

and rimmer? hes died multiple times, experienced the void and end of existence and been pulled back - and those years as a soft light hologram not being able to touch anything and needing to ask holly to simulate everything for him? never getting much of an actual choice over clothes, his body, what he can actually interact with (this concept was more prevalent in series 1 and 2 but nonetheless) sure he could ask for it but its not the same as getting the free will or real control over anything. AND THE 557 YEARS ON RIMMERWORLD ALSO like ??? they left you in that room, there alone, for five hundred and fifty seven years, thats 28,964 weeks, or 203,305 days thats INSANE. he doesnt even remember the names of his shipmates properly after all that. THATS ONLY AFTER THE BEGINNING OF THE SHOW, MIND. before that he'd spent years being belittled and abused by his parents (so much so that a court emancipated him at only 14) his classmates, everyone in his life only tolerated and made snide remarks at him at Best.

cat too, his entire civilisation wiped themselves out, hes the only survivor of a 3 million year long race of people (granted it took them a while to get to humanoid but i rest my case)

even kryten and holly arent excluded from this overwhelming loss that pervades every aspect of the show, kryten spent possibly hundreds of years ignorant to the fact that the crew of his ship had died, i wonder if he ever wondered why they stopped speaking to him? stopped giving him laundry to fold, refusing to eat any food he made for him? and as for Holly, 3,000,000 years alone on a ship in the cold black vastness of space surrounded only by the ashes of the crew you once tended for, guiding them to safety, who were reliant on you, needing you for every part of their lives it would seem. really could make a computer go mad, that sort of thing

[peaky-shelby]

NEW ROMANTICS | MBAPPÉ [9]

» summary: in which an arrogant and talented football player (the best of his time as some say) and a focused and harsh critic of a journalist are gonna have to find a way to co-exist.« previous chapter

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Taylor’s instinct was to dive in the water without saying anything at all. Kylian watched her as she tied herself around him so she could stay underwater. He heard the guard getting closer and looked up.

“Mr. Mbappe?” All Kylian could do was gulp and nod. “Party is inside sir. Pool Is closed”

He was struggling to come up with actual words, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, distracted by the skin to skin contact and her closeness to dangerous areas but this was not the time.

“my daughter’s a fan.”

“Really?”

“You don’t happen to have a shirt do you?”

“Not right now I don’t.”

Taylor pinched his thigh, not at all in a sexual way but only to remind him that she was about to run out of breath if she didn’t do anything. She closed her eyes trying to focus on her heartbeat, which echoed in the void of the water and would get quicker every minute that she didn’t let out the air. She could see her time running out right in front of her eyes. None of this was a good idea, definitely not for her weak heart which had already been through a lot.

“but give me five minutes I’ll get one for you.” Taylor could feel his entire body vibrating as he spoke. She couldn’t hear a response by the guard. Feared that if this took any longer she would loose all consciousness but suddenly she felt his hands underneath her elbows, pulling her up. She gasped for air, the second she reached the surface and jumped off the pool, getting up on marble and walking back and forth. Her hand always placed in her chest, over her heart while she was hyperventilating in attempt to stay calm. She put on her heels, quicker than any time before and picked up her phone as well. Kylian got off the pool reaching for his pants, jumping on one leg while walking so he could put them on at the same time. He wore his white t-shirt and snatched his jacket from the ground, attempted to put it over her but she slapped it away.

“are you ok?” he asked, kinda worried, kinda confused. She didn’t answer him, which only made him more anxious than before, trying to get near her and failing each time. He had followed her on the railings of the marine, for a second be thought she’d jump over them and into the sea. “taylor?” he tried again.

“this ends here!” it came out as an order. She was shaking in the cold while she said it and he thought she should be the one going inside. He attempted to put his jacket over her again, to warm her wet figure. She turned around abruptly, making him step back. “enough Kylian !” she yelled. “no more staring, no more insinuations, or jokes or following me. There are more than 20 reporters in that venue and im--” she laughed at herself, rubbing her face “what am I doing?”. If stars could speak they’d be doomed, both of them. It was the first time he noticed the sign of fear in her eyes, a woman fearless in most things was standing scared in front of him. Did he feel bad for her? Being the reason of the fear? “please.” She whispered “enough.”

He nodded, pressing his tongue on his teeth. “ok.” He raised his hands in defeat, still holding his jacket in one and made a step back. “I’m done. I promise.” He lowered his hand again, holding out the jacket for her “but take the jacket” Her eyes fell on it, looking at it like it was a gun that she’d put on her head later on. Like accepting would be accepting something worse, something like a curse. She snatched it away from him and put it on, leaving as far away from him as possible.

He started buttoning his shirt, looking up at the sky while doing so. Funny thing about stars, they see everything and don’t tell a soul.

“Ky!”

He turned around in the sound of his name, Hakimi standing behind him. There was this kind of disapproval in his eyes like he had seen everything but was too kind to say anything. He took off his jacket and gave it to Kylian.

“Go back inside.” He said “before people start adding two and two together.”

Taylor got back in her room. Changing away from her wet clothes as quick as she could. She had used Kylian’s jacket to hide how wet her dress was when going up to her room. She threw it on the couch across the bed and made herself a warm bath, her body sinking in the high temperature. Her heart finally finding a safe place to calm. No sort of shampoo could erase his touch from her inner thigh, another invisible tattoo by him. But she kept telling herself that’s all they were, tattoos. A simple addiction, she’d eventually get over.

Later, she laid on her bed, wrapped herself in her cozy robe and tucked under the blankets. She couldn’t sleep and she knew she wouldn’t. Not unless she found a way to get her mind off his dark eyes. Hey eyes were stuck on the ceiling, imagining thousands of stars starring down at her. Her phone buzzed on the table, the noise disturbing her but also giving her a way out from her thoughts. She sat better, reading the name on the screen. A sense of calmness she hadn’t felt in a while washed over her.

“Dad?”

“Hey lion. I saw your call from earlier is everything alright?”

She hesitated “yes. Just missing you.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

“Ah I was talking with Beth about that. I was thinking I’d fly to you next week. Stay for a couple of days.”

She smiled at the thought “that’d be good. You sure you can travel though? How were your exams?”

“they were fine, don’t you worry about it.”

“you might as well tell me, I’ll call Beth otherwise.”

“sweetheart. I’m ok. I promise you. What about you? You sound troubled.”

“The match against AL Nssr is gonna be the first that they know I’m assistant coach. Guess I’m scared about that”

“Mbappe still giving you a hard time?”

Her eyes searched for Kylian’s jacket, she looked at it like it was actually him. “Sometimes”

“don’t think about it too much. Keep being yourself, doing what you know best.”

“thanks pa.” A pause between the two then she asked “do you think I have a tendency of self destruction?”

“why would you ask that?”

“I fear I might be doing it again.”

WELCOMING EVENT VENUE – NIGHT

Kylian stayed on the even a while longer. He didn’t really talk to anyone or attempted to even look like he was enjoying himself. Taylor’s disappearance was talked about a lot. The boys would make theories about it and all the while he could feel Hakimi’s eyes staring at him. Still, he had made a promise to her to not talk about it with his friend, ever. He was going to keep it.

He Found himself close to a group of a couple reporters, it wasn’t intended. He just kept zoning out and unconsciously joining conversations, while being pushed around by members on the PR team or even Galtier himself. Hearing her name is what got him out of the zone.

“Taylor Wilock. She was on Chelsea.”

He made a step closer to the group, listening.

“she left very early on. Don’t you think?” asked one of the women. The man standing next to her laughed.

“Have we counted the footballers to make sure they’re all here?”

Kylian gripped tight on his glass. He didn’t like what the unknown man was suggesting.

“haven’t seen Neymar in a while.” Said the woman, laughing “god if I were her, I’d sleep with half of them as well.”

“Any other way for a woman in her 20’s to get that kind of a job?”

Kylian was fuming. He stepped in front of the two journalists, his posture strict and unwelcoming.

“She was 5 when she played her first game. She so good that her coach had to keep her benched in some games because she made all the other kids cry. When she turned 7, Birmingham city academy had already started making offers for her to stay and join the under 16s team. She would have, except she was picked out by Chelsea, as you also pointed out. Full scholarship. She was 10 at the time by the way. Starting eleven in every game and approached by national team for the world cup. She would have joined them at 16 years old, the contract was even signed. She could have had a bigger career than you could ever dream of if it wasn’t for her illness. But even then, she built a website from zero, with detailing and analyzing articles about player performances in ways that coaches in their 40s envied. That’s how she got the fucking job.”

Kylian was surprised of how much he had listened and remembered the things that Jude had told him about Taylor. His mind had kept all of the information without even realizing it. Perhaps, overhearing the things they said about her made him understand how much there was on the line for her, meanwhile he had been treating this as a game. A few weeks ago, and maybe he would have said the same things about her but now he knew she wasn’t underqualified, no matter how much he wanted to pretend like she was. Maybe this was a way of redeeming himself for the things he said and done after a much-needed wake up call.

“Do your fucking research.”

He left them after that. Didn’t stay to see their surprised or baffled expressions. He bumped on a few people while exiting the venue and going up to his room. He locked the door, changed into more comfortable clothes and started searching in his suitcase. He took out his tablet, sitting on his bed and opening his gallery. Scrolled down until he found the pictures he had taken of Taylor’s report. He stayed up reading that night. The taste of her skin lingering on his lips.

KHALIFA INTERNATIONAL STADIUM – OPEN TRAINING SESSION

Taylor was surprised when she realized Kylian was keeping his promise. During breakfast they sat on different tables, keeping their eyes on the ones around them instead of each other. The only time he got close enough to her was when he asked to speak with Neymar. Only for a couple of seconds before the two of them left to go talk alone.

In the bus Taylor sat on the front next to Galtier, repeatedly checking on her phone to keep herself occupied. She hoped he couldn’t see through her performances. Truth was that since the night before she had this constant ache in her chest and a sort of dizziness. She thought both things would die out after taking her pills but the exhaustion seemed to be getting bigger. She ignored it.

The team dressed in their new yellow and black kit, photographed in the hall and then out on te stadium. She watched in awe as the people that had come to see the training screamed and yelled when the team walked out on the pitch. Turns you never get used to that feeling, the thrill of listening your friend’s names yelled in celebration. It didn’t take long before she was approached by the first reporters, asking about her experience in the team so far. She gave short answers and excused herself, saying he needed to work. She spent most of the time studying attitudes and performances. She noticed Kylian training alongside Neymar, the two of them passing the ball to each other. Galtier had assigned her to mostly watch for this training and get back to him with a starting 11 and a final strategy for the next day’s game while the other coaches took the lead in the training. She’d walk in between everyone, writing on her notebook and sometimes blow her whistle when she thought the boys were getting out of control.

Sometimes she’d get this feeling on her fingertips like she needed to type out the thoughts on her mind. A article like the ones she used to write. She’d ignore it the same way she’d ignore the growing ache on her chest. She was in the middle of the field when Neymar kicked a ball at her and she realized that she had zoned out.

“You good?” he asked, getting near her. “You look pale.”

“Yeah.” She said quickly, she showed him her notebook and started pointing on her notes about him. While she spoke, she kept missing a couple of words or dragging out sentences. Ney noticed it, his head cocked to the left while watching her. He was listening at her pointers but also examining on her features.

“You sure you’re good?” he asked.

She closed her eyes nodding “I just need water.” She exited the field, looking at the benches for her water bottle. she went inside the building when took it so no one from the team would see her. She leaned against the wall and started drinking slowly, fearing that her stomach might not take kindly on the liquid.

“Ms. Wilock?” She opened her eyes to see one of the medics standing in front of her, a kind smile on her face. “I’m jo. Are you feeling alright?”

“Do I look that bad?” she tried to joke.

“Mr. Mbappe told me you might need help.”

Her expression softened, she cleared her throat as to not show her guilt and turned her gaze at the floor so she wouldn’t be able to see her eyes. “I’m fine, really. This is normal.”

“Could I check your blood pressure?” she asked, holding a monitor in her hands. Taylor nodded and held her arm out. The medic wrapped it around her arm. Taylor leaned her head against the wall, looking up at the ceiling “are you diagnosed with a condition?”

“Inherited Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy.” She answered, biting the inside of her lip “like I said. This is normal for me.”

The medic was focused on the monitor, watching the numbers getting higher. She shook her head “I need you to take a few deep breaths for me—”

“I need to get back on the field.”

“In a moment. Please, a couple deep breaths.” She obeyed; this was routine for her. Deep breaths and counting to 7. She had been doing it for most of her life. “You said inherited?”

“my father’s side.” She explained.

Jo unwrapped the monitor from her arm “you should take a break. Eat something.”

“I’ll take a break when the session is over.”

“Something wrong coach?” Kimpembe came in, jogging towards her. Taylor turned and looked at him, a little annoyed that this was turning into a scene.

“I’m fine—” “she needs to eat.” They said it at the same time, Kimpembe looking between them, confused. He narrowed his eyes.

“Well I was gonna go get a snack. You’re welcome to join.”

“Not necessary—”

“I think I’ll listen to the doctor!” he slipped his head around her arm and winked at the medic before dragging her with him to the cafeteria. She groaned, trying to move away but he was stronger. He had his signature smile plastered on his face while they walked and he was ignoring her threats and complaints. He ordered her a toast, since it was the only thing, she was willing to eat. They sat on the corner, the two of them. She’d cut small bites from her bread and chew on them slowly. Kimpembe laughed at her.

“You eat like a chipmunk.”

“I said I wasn’t hungry.”

He took a full bite from his banana, keeping her eyes on her and when he swallowed, he said “should have stayed longer last night.” She gazed at the toast, all of a sudden swallowing the whole thing in one go and chocking on it seemed tempting. “People were looking for you.”

She coughed on her own breath, looking up at him “who was?”

He shrugged “just people.” He laughed at himself “journalists are begging for an interview with you.”

“only so they can be sexists and annoying.” She bit on her toast.

“Kylian took care of that last night.” She stopped chewing. She lowered the toast, her big eyes focusing on the man across from her. “Someone made a comment about you and he set them right. Gave them your whole biography to shut them up.”

She blinked a few times, second time today that Kylian had tried to help without making any actual contact with her. “Why would he do that?”

“Trying to get on your good side? I don’t know.”

She thought about it. Imagined Kylian supporting her in a dispute, for some reason that sent a shiver in her heart, a shiver she couldn’t quite explain. She took another bite from her toast, zoning out while chewing on the food.

Taylor got back on the field with Kimpembe next to her. Kylian was occupied with a group of kids that had circled around him, asking questions and taking photographs with their idol. He had this smile on his face for the whole time. She remembered the first time he saw him with that little girl on campus. It was like he was a different person. He raised his head and looked at her, all of a sudden, he was pointing at her while talking to one of the little girls. Taylor looked behind her to make sure he wasn’t pointing at somebody else. When she looked back at them again, they were closer, walking towards her for some reason. She stood awkwardly while waiting for them.

“Hi—” she exclaimed when they got close enough. Kylian smiled and knelt next to the girl.

“She wanted to meet you.”

“Me?”

The girl nodded. Seconds later and she had tied her arms around Taylor’s feet. Hugging her. Taylor gave Kylian and a questioning look. She knelt so she’d be on the same height as the girl “what’s your name?”

“Sia.”

Taylor smiled “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Kylian says you’re the strictest coach they have.”

Taylor laughed “that’s true, I am.”

“I think you’re cool.”

“I am that too.”

Kylian took a picture of them together and the girl ran back to her parents. Before Kylian could follow her, taylor grabbed his arm. He stopped on his tracks turning around to face her. She let go of his arm quickly “I wanted to talk to you” she said and he nodded.

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you as well.” Taylor expected him to go ahead and tell her about the events that followed after she left the venue or about what happened in the pool but what followed, left her with her mouth open “I checked your report again last night. There are some pointers, if you have the time, I need you to go through them together.” She thought she was hallucinating, that maybe her heart had really given up on her and now she was watching some weird dream. “I have some ideas for tomorrow I want you to speak to Galtier about if that’s alright.” She pressured her lips together, narrowing her eyes. She rubbed her head—

“Wai—wait, what?” she snorted “since when do you have a copy of the report?”

“I took pictures of it when I took it”

“Stole it” she corrected him. “And of course, you did.”

“Does it really matter?” he asked, letting both hands fall on his sides like he was tired “Do you have time to help or not?”

Her mouth hangs open while she was processing his request. She had to shake her head to get back on reality. “Yeah—” she murmured “of course—I—that’s my job Kylian.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s not what I wanted us to talk about though.”

“Why? Is there anything else?”

His question hurt but he wasn’t trying to be offensive or dismissive. If anything, he was keeping a promise that she had made him to, so she had no reason to be mad at him. Why did it still stink though?

She shook her head, puling up the corner of her lips “I guess not.”

He gave her a sympathetic smile and he left.

RESTAURANT / FAIRMONT HOTEL – AFTERNOON

“Why am I here then?” asked Hakimi, looking at Kylian, who was scrolling on his iPad to find the picture he was looking at last night. They were sitting on a circled table next to each other,

“Back up.” Mumbled Kylian.

“In case she tries to kill you or kiss you?” he picked one of the welcoming nuts the waiter had left on the table, smirking at his friend.

Kylian gave him the side eye and let down the tablet, ones he opened the pictures he needed “don’t make any jokes when she’s around. I don’t want her to think it was planned,”

“Since when do you care?”

“I really want to win tomorrow. If working with her is what it takes then so be it.” He glanced at the entrance of the restaurant and then back at his friend “I don’t want this to look like an ambush with you here.”

“she’s here—”

Kylian looked at the entrance. Taylor came in, holding her files and smiling to the waiters. She stopped for a second when she saw Hakimi sitting next to Kylian but then went and sat next to him, using him as a wall of separation from Kylian.

“Achraf,” she mumbled, while drawing the chair closer to the table. Hakimi smiled at her and gave her a quick wave “couldn’t take all the heat by yourself, Kylian?” she asked, opening her files on the table. Kylian leaned closer on the table so he’d see better at her writings.

Hakimi reached for his water, moving carefully in between them and staring at table, avoiding their gazes “this is gonna be fun” he mumbled and drank from his glass.

They ordered. They talked. They fought.

“That doesn’t make any sense!” complained Kylian

“that’s because you’re dumb!” she mumbled.

Meanwhile Hakimi was trying to enjoy his dinner in between their yelling. He was cutting bites of his dessert with his spoon, his eyes describing all the desperation he was feeling while being stuck between them. Papers were being pushed back and forth, he watched them with an empty expression until he reached his limit. He stood up abruptly, both of them watching him. “I need to go to the restroom.” He explained, any excuse to get away from this war zone. He pushed his chair back and walked away, leaving the two of them alone.

Taylor looked away from Kylian when Hakimi left and snatched a piece of paper that didn’t really say anything at all. She just wanted to pretend like she was reading something. Kylian started tapping on the table while looking at the screen on his tablet. “What about defense?”

“What about it?”

“you’re saying it’s weak.”

“Because it is…” she murmured. Kylian’s head shot up at her, he bit on his tongue. He slid on Hakimi’s chair, moving the tablet with him. Taylor glanced at him, a little worried for his intentions but all he seemed interested in was to make sense of her writings. She couldn’t understand where all this came from but she kinda liked it.

“Where are you gonna place me tomorrow?”

“I don’t have the final say, you know that.”

“What are you going to suggest?”

“What do you think? Forward. Alongside Neymar and Messi.”

“What do you know about Ronaldo’s team.”

She looked at him. She took out a pen from her folder and started writing on one of the papers while talking “You’re basically going against Vincent Aboubakar. He’s forward and he’s good. Neymar will have his eye on him—”

“Why?”

“He was on Cameroon team when brazil lost this year. Make sure Ney doesn’t get carried away. Konan plays left back and his style is mostly dribbling and shooting from a distance. He is threat number two but he’s weak at finishing.” She paused, writing all the information she could remember about him on the paper “And then of course there is your favorite.” She wrote Ronaldo’s name on the paper “do I need to write his stats?”

Kylian smiled “no. I think I got it.”

“Listen. I don’t think it’s a hard win, which is why I’m gonna be extra disappointed If we lose. They’re not even a team yet. I doubt they’ve found a way to communicate with Ronaldo so quickly.”

“You think he is a liability?”

“I think he is a big change. And a sort of change like that takes time to adjust.”

Kylian moved slightly, his knee under the table unintentionally bumping on hers. Both of them freezing at the contact for a moment. She looked away without moving her leg away from him. “It wasn’t necessary to send the medic after me today.” She said.

“You gave me a scare last night.”

“I was fine” she whispered.

He nodded. He knew she was lying. He had spoken with the medic himself, but he didn’t pressure her. He lowered his head, his knee still laying against hers.

“do me a favor.” She hummed, getting a little closer “keep up the good kid act or whatever it was that got you so focused today for tomorrow.” He scoffed, smiling. “I saw you trying with Ney. It was pretty darn great.”

The waiter interrupted them, leaving down the bill for the dinner. Taylor went to reach for it, Kylian grasped her hand before she could even touch it. He dropped her hand seconds later, opening the envelope with the bill and putting in his card in a slick movement. The waiter left with it.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Just keeping up the good kid act.” He told her. She smiled and started collecting all her papers back on her files. Hakimi returned a while later, only then did they move their knees away from each other. Sitting straight on their chairs. So, touch deprived, both of them and it was coming out in the most sinful way possible.

“The boys are in the bar. You guys gonna join?”

“What the hell are they doing in the bar? They have a game tomorrow!”

The waiter returned with Kylian’s card and Taylor got up. She was pissed. Hakimi bit on his tongue, rubbing his forehead.

“I’m sure they are not drinking, right Haki?” Asked Kylian, standing up next to taylor. Hakimi filled his cheekbones with air, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m gonna murder them—”

“Wai-wait!” Kylian stepped in front of her before she could leave. “They are adults. You’re not their mother, if they wanna fuck up, it’s on them, right?”

“I’m sure they are responsible enough, not to wake up with hangovers.” Added Hakimi.

“Fine. I’ll go back to my room. Give them a warning though that if I see anyone with sunglasses tomorrow, I’ll shove them so far up their asses they are going to taste them.” She walked past Hakimi. Kylian snorted at her comment, for ones able to appreciate her evil remarks because they weren’t aimed at him. Hakimi glowered at him and his laughter came to a quick halt.

“You know I think I’ll go to my room as well.”

Hakimi was still glowering.

“See you tomorrow bro.” he patted Hakimi on the shoulder and followed behind taylor. He reached her as soon as the elevator doors opened. Both of them walking inside and laying on opposite sides.

“You’re not gonna drink?” she asked, scratching on her nails.

“Good kid act” he reminded her and she laughed, closing her eyes.

Silence. Their kind.

“You sure everything was ok with the medic?”

“don’t ask me again Kylian.” She ordered.

The elevator doors opened again and they walked down the long hallway. Kylian stopped in front of his door while taylor continued. She stopped, turned back around to face him. He could feel her eyes on him, so he turned at her direction.

“I know you are scared playing against Ronaldo. I know what he means to you.” Her voice trailed off while she walked back to him “but you’ll do great as long as you remember the things we talked about today.” She smiled “the fact that you came to your sworn enemy JW for help, says a lot.”

He laughed. She reached for his hand, squishing it two times. He wanted to turn his hand and take hold of hers, pull her to him and kiss her, fulfill his addiction. But she slipped it away before he could hold it and she walked to her room, opening and closing the door while he stood outside his own. His body aching to be next to her, to make her angry so she’d yell at him. He was used to it.

She shut the door, a part of her staying on the other side. She realized his jacket was still laid on her couch. Tempted to return it to him, she traced the expensive fabric with her fingers. She left it there and fell asleep looking at it, a reminder of why she should keep away from him.

KHALIFA INTERNATIONAL STADIUM / LOCKER ROOMS – GAME DAY

Chaos was one word to describe it. Yelling, heavy steps, thousands of people walking around the stadium, outside, in the halls, and in the seats. Taylor was just a small figure among them and if it wasn’t for her id card, security would probably have kicked her out already. She got down the stairs to the locker room, meeting Galtier in the middle, giving his pregame speech to this team. She closed the door slowly so she wouldn’t interrupt him but he turned to her anyway.

“Ms. Wilock. Wanna do the honors?”

She was caught unprepared. Looking around for some sort of hint of what he meant “the what?”

Galtier motioned towards the boys, who seemed to be waiting for something. She slowly began to understand, a soft ‘oh’ escaping her lips. She moved closer, studying their faces. Some of them still had little belief in her. One of them of course was Verratti. She went to him first. Knelt in front of him.

“I know you hate me so if you could use that hate into scoring tonight that would be helpful.” Verratti scoffed “for the record, I think you are one of our best advantages for this game. I always have. So, kick that ball like it’s my face if that’s what it takes. Ok?”

He nodded, half smiling at her. She stood up and looked at Messi.

“Let’s not kid ourselves half the stadium is here to see you against Ronaldo. Please don’t let me getting benched when I was 13 for punching a girl that said Ronaldo was better stand for nothing.” They all laughed, even Galtier cracked a smile. It went on like this for all the players but she very noticeably ignored Neymar and Mbappe, like she was saving them for last.

Galtier gave any last motivation he had, clapping for his team. When they were all out, Taylor called for Neymar and Kylian. The two of them turned at the same time to answer to the woman, she held on their shoulders. Looking in their eyes.

“Whatever you did at training, keep doing it here. Please.” She looked at Kylian “or I’m gonna bury you both. Get it?”

Neymar smiled and leaned in, pecking her cheek “don’t worry Princessa.” He left. Ones again, Kylian and taylor stayed looking at each other. She pulled on his sleeve before he could turn and leave.

“The only number 7 I wanna see lifting that trophy is my number 7— Our seven.”

“You will” he reassured her. Half smiling at the way she called him. Repeatedly reminding himself of the promise he made to her, to stay good and appropriate.

“Prove me right.” She requested “prove me right for all he the time I’ve spend analyzing every single detail of your playing and critiquing it. Prove me it was worth it.”

He had never though of it like that. That the time she had spent on him meant something, that it wasn’t just an excuse to be mean to him but an excuse to write about him.

“go” she whispered, coming out like a warning for both. He listened to her and left. The two of them walking on the tunnel. She zipped up her jacket, walking passed him in the tunnel. She stood next to Galtier for the beginning of the game. Rubbing her hands together. To shield them from the cold but also because she needed to keep moving otherwise, she’d explode from her nerves. The teams got on the field, on their respectful side. She felt her knees give out when she heard the whistle for the start of the game. She sat down on the bench basically cuddling herself but it 3 minutes later and she was jumping up yelling. Messi had scored the first goal.

She threw her fist in the air, her entire body shaking in excitement. She threw herself at Ektike who was still on the bench. The two of them celebrating together.

20 minutes later and Kylian scores but the flag for offside goes up and her heart sinks. She kicked on the foot of the bench annoyed. Galtier sat down, crossing his arms. “they’re ok” he whispers to her “they’ll make it through don’t worry.”

Christiano’s penalty was the first hit. Taylor already planned on giving Keylor a hard time for the foul. She huffed and sat on the ground, crossing her legs. Kylian spotted her from where he was. He gave her a thumbs-up and she nodded. The next hit came when Bernat saw the red card raised before him. Taylor stood up from where she was, yelling at the referee. Raising her hands. But minutes later Kylian kicked the ball to Marquinhos and he very easily scored what would be the second goal. The whole game continued in the same rollercoaster style. A win and a loss. A loss and a win. A lost penalty by Neymar before a goal by Sergio Ramos with the help of Kylian. When Sergio kicked the ball in the net taylor ran to him, jumping on his arms. He picked her up, Kylian joining in on their celebration. When Sergio lets her down, she looks at Kylian. She smiled at him, grasping his hand to congratulate him “Keep it up!” she encouraged him and he winked at her, running back on the field.

Perhaps the most scared she felt was when Kylian had to do a penalty, her heart pounding while she waited for him to score. Knowing what it’d do to him if he lost. She dropped herself on Galtier when he scored. Galtier didn’t push her away but he didn’t hold on to her either, reminding her that she had to keep a low profile as a couch. Funny because all she actually wanted to do was write for this game, every single detail. The way each team kept making a comeback, keeping the game entertaining until the last minute. Her fingertips were hurting by the lack of keyboards to press on. She closed her eyes, waiting for the final whistle and when she heard the sound, she opened them and looked at the score. They had won. She ran in Neymar’s arms who picked her up, spinning her around. Everyone else seemed to be celebrating as well. She hugged all of them, but the hug that lasted longer was the one with Kylian. He tied his hands around her waist to pull her of the ground just a little. Her lips brushed against his ear as she whispered “Proof of you.” Leaving him with a gentle peck on his cheek. And he wasn’t so surprised to hear her say it as he was by the fact that it actually meant something to him.

PLAY MUSIC

Taylor was out in the hallway, giving her first postgame interview. A woman holding the microphone for her.

“Do you feel like you had anything to do with today’s win?”

“I’d hope so. Although, I haven’t been part of the team for as long as I’d need to and we still have a long way to go. Hopefully my presence will bring more good moments like this.”

“Is it hard handling these men?”

She looked behind the reporter. Kylian standing behind her, his chest bare, watching closely. She smiled “sometimes harder than others.”

The celebrations continued on the locker rooms, with champagne, mostly sprayed on each other and silly dances around the locker room while they waited for the bus. Taylor was being pushed back and forth, unable to stay still for longer than 5 seconds before another of these big men came to pick her up and throw her back on their little celebrations. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it. One gesture that stood out for her was Verratti’s, who came showed up in front of her, holding his hand out for her, a sign of truce perhaps. She took it with no question. Smiling.

Moments later and she had an entire bottle of champagne sprayed on her by Neymar. She tried to get away but it seemed everyone was part of the game. At least she got to taste a bit of it. She looked at her clothes with playful sorrow in her eyes but she was laughing at the same time. She chased Neymar, until she bumped on Kylian. His hands grasping on her bicep to keep her upright. She looked in his eyes, the darkness that she’d usually find in them had dimmed. So much so that she had a hard time recognizing him. He pulled on her arm and started dancing on the rhythm of the music, like everyone else had done. The two of them laughing while everyone around them was oblivious of their true thoughts and all their sins. He held on her one hand in a tango kind of pose and his other hand crawled on the small of her back. Moving her right and left and spinning her round, her laughter getting louder. Oh, what a happy picture.

The laughter’s died out when everyone started dressing up to leave, one by one exiting the locker room. She stood by the door, basically counting heads to make sure no one was going to stay behind. She had no idea if he did it, on purpose but he was last to go. Slipped in one of the private showers on the back while everyone else was leaving. She checked there was no one on the hall a couple of times before going to find him.

The door to the private shower was barely open. How ironic, she was the one peaking through doors now. She leaned on door frame, keeping her eyes on the ground.

“Planning on staying here?” she asked, scratching on the floor with her foot. She heard him halting on his movements. Mentally rewarding herself for catching him off guard.

“Are we alone?” he asked from his side of the door.

Taylor checked behind her, scratching the back of her neck. “Yeah.”

The door slowly opened, taylor peaked her head through the wall. He was just putting on his shirt when she walked in.

“You did good” she smiled, leaning on wall of the shower.

“Did you mean what you say?”

“I always mean what I say.” She said in a suggestive tone.

He fixed his hoodie, eyeing her up and down. Biting on the inner side of his cheekbone.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy before.”

“Haven’t been very happy since you came along.”

“touché” she pressed her lips together, accepting the sarcasm. She looked at his bag, motioning at it with her head “do you have another one of these shirts?” she looked at her own, pulling it down “this shit’s been sticking on my skin. I hate it.”

“You know—” he laughed, searched on his bag for a shirt “If you wanted my jersey, you could’ve just asked.”

Taylor snorted dismissively at him, rolling her eyes. He held out one of his jerseys for her. She took it quickly “I’ll use this as a cleaning pad when I get home.”

“Want me to sign it?” he asked, making a step forward.

“No, I’m good. Think I’ll start an eBay account with just your clothes. I still have your jacket on my room.”

He hummed. Stepped back again and hanged his bag over his shoulder. He walked passed her, the kylian she knew would have trapped her in between the wall already—

“Kylian!” He turned to look at her. Holding on his bag “how long do I have left of this good kid act?”

He smiled an evil smile. “Depends how good that shirt will look on you.” With that he left her alone to change. Taylor looked at the shirt, holding it fro each side so she could see it whole, her finger brushed over his name and then his number. She grinned.

FAIRMONT HOTEL – NIGHT

When they reached the hotel, the team was still celebating, singing and dancing in their favorite tunes. Some of them even jumped on the pool with their clothes on. Taylor made sure to stay on the back, she wasn’t in the mood for another dive.

Kylian must have thought the same because while the rest were jumping in, sending the water in all sorts of directions, he looked at her from the other side. Their eyes meeting in the darkness. He noticed she had been wearing her coat, through the whole way back. Being the only one to know that she was wearing his shirt underneath did something to him. It was like a little secret between the two, that she had his name written on her back.

She was first to break eye contact, leaving to go inside the building while the boys were being boys. He watched her leaving, tempted to follow her. Something was holding him back and he couldn’t identify if it was the promise he made or pure fear.

He went to his room, leaving his prep bag on the floor and pacing around. Debating on what his next move should be. He rubbed his face, reminding himself of all the reasons they were a bad idea. Addictions were never healthy. The stakes were taller than LeBron James. Especially for her and did he really want to be the reason for her putting such a career at risk? Then again, would he be the one responsible if it was her that made the choice.

A knock.

Gentle. Low. But confident.

He looked at his door. Did he really have to guess who was on the other side.

His hand hovered over the door knob, his fingers barely touching it. He laid his head on the door.

Another knock.

He opened it. Her small figure standing on the other side. She was holding his jacket on her one hand, her shirt still covered by her own coat.

“Didn’t want you accusing me of stealing.” She said, her voice low. His fingers stroked hers as he took it in his hold. Both of them lingering on the contact, he made a step back and she mirrored his movements. Stepping in the room, both of them still holding on the piece of clothing like it was their lifeline. One last thread before oblivion. Kylian raised his hand over her, pushing the door closed. Hearing it shut while admiring her hazel eyes. Picking out on the details. She flinched at the sound, closing her eyes for a second.

“gonna give me the shirt back as well?”

“no.” she shook her head “I was thinking of keeping that one.”

He grinned finally pulling the jacket away from her and leaving it in one of the chairs so there would be nothing between them. “Does it look nice?” he asked making a step forward. She shrugged her shoulders, her expression indicating cluelessness. His thumb started playing with the zipper of her coat, before slowly pulling it down, revealing the black and yellow shirt more and more. Taylor stayed still while he did that, her eyes stuck on his lips which would slowly form a teasing smile. He let go of the zipper, his hand slipping on the shoulder, pushing the coat of her. So, he could see the whole shirt. He fingers trailed down her arm to her hand, holding on to it and gently spinning her the other way, his arm falling around and in front of her and trapping her in a way. He stood a little far from her only so he could see his number and then made a step forward. His lips ghosting her ear, his chin bumping on her hair, her back sticking on his chest. Her fingers crawled tighter around his. Like she was holding on so she wouldn’t sprint outside. Run for cover the same way that she ran the other night. Touch deprived, that’s all they were. She had to keep telling herself that, to make excuses for her actions.

“Kimpembe told me what you did. Defending me the other night.”

Kylian leaned closer, his lips now ghosting her cheeks that were starting to gain a rosy color. “That why you are here?” he asked.

She had to gulp so he wouldn’t hear the weakness in her voice “I don’t know” and somehow this was the most honest thing she had ever told him. Because she really had no idea.

“Do you wanna leave?”

“no.”

“Do you wanna stay?”

She hesitated “I think if you asked me to, I would.”

“do you want me to be a good kid?” he smiled.

“yes.” She answered quickly. He moved his face away from hers and placed his lips on the top of her head, speaking on her hair.

“Do you really?” he asked.

She closed her eyes. Falling backwards on him “no.”

He spun her around again; her eyes were still closed. His thumb grazed over her eyelids before his hand cupped her whole face from the back of her neck “then will you stay?”

She opened her eyes, he was so close and this was so wrong. Self destruction at it’s best. To hell with it. She got on her tiptoes, her hands finding the back of his neck and she pulled him to her, her lips finding his. He responded to the kiss in seconds, despite how surprised he was that she was the one that started it, his hands slipping under her shirt, fulfilling the skin to skin contact they both were craving while he deepened the kiss. He picked her up, laying her down on the bed gently. This time there were no lies between them, no hidden agendas. They both knew what they were doing, they were both to blame but ones again it didn’t matter. Not when they fit together so well.

She was the one that had come to him. She was the one that kissed him first and she was the one whimpering under his touch. It was different from the first time; first time was just hunger and lust. There was some sort of calmness between them this time. Like both of them had accepted their fate; meant to sink together. So when his lips made a home of her skin under her chin, she held him closer to her and when her hands searched for comfort in his body, he gave it.

Sloppy kisses, fingers travelling around dangerous areas and frictions that ignited electricity between the both of them. And he took care of her the best way he knew how. Taking off her shirt because the only thing better than his name on her back was her wearing nothing. Letting her straddle his waist while she helped him take off his pants. Their eyes meeting in the chaos, reflecting the consequences. Was it the thrill of winning? Was it the need to finish what they had started in the pool, in a room that no one would bother them in? She cupped his face with her hand, studying every line on his face. Like it was the last thing she’d see. “this ends here” she told him, just two days ago. But it had only just began. And there was nothing romantic about it.

We are on the final countdown. Can you believe it? I didn't think this story would reach as far as chapter 9 and still stay as popular. We have about 5 chapters left i think 😭 things we've still yet to find out: why is Taylor using the nickname jw? Is Galtier keeping her after the one month is over ?👀 Where the fuck is Ann? 👀 And is Taylor ok? Y'all always send me messages about how much you like her independence and I wanted to say thank youuu. The fact that you appreciate and love this character as much as me. See you very soon for chapter 10. It's gonna be the funniest one hehe, something @okayymochi has been waiting for a while 👀 i love you all, please keep comment with your thoughts, your comments make me cry laugh and most of all motivate me to keep writing. I adore you ❤️❤️

NEXT CHAPTER (9.1)

[catmaidetho]

bands to listen to that arent lovejoy

hi, i just wanted to make this list for anyone who might be looking for something to replace any sudden voids in their music taste that lovejoy has left if they no longer wish to listen to the band.

the front bottoms - a classic, midwest emo staple. you already know "twin size mattress" and "lone star," i also recommend "lonely eyes," "camouflage," and "flashlight"

pinkshift - a fantastic band that leans way into punk and riot grrl. my favorite songs of theirs are "mars" and "burn the witch" :)

lincoln - another midwest emo/indie artist, his songs deal more heavily with mental health. (i cannot speak for "everything is wrong" as i've only heard the singles off it, but "a constant state of ohio" definitely touches on some dark shit.) "banks" goes hard

the toxhards - a bit more rock and roll, and also a bit goofier! you've heard aengus the prize winning hog, i also recommend "the coffee song," and "doombop!" but they have so few songs out that you can listen to everything at once

i dont know how but they found me (idkhow) - DO YOU LIKE WELL-CRAFTED LINES THAT ROLL OFF THE TONGUE WELL AND/OR HAVE A SATISFYINGLY SHARP BITE. DO YOU LIKE FUNKY BASSLINES. ARE YOU A HATER AND A LOVER AND ALSO A HATER. listen to idkhow. they just released an album last week and as one of their top 0.05% of listeners i cannot make a recommendation list without them. dallon weekes is my 42 y/o wife. listen to "do it all the time," "new invention," and "downside" to start, but i literally recommend their entire discography.

(if you like idkhow, also check out the brobecks, dallon weekes' band before idkhow from which he's taken at least two songs.)

the crane wives - do i need to tell you about the crane wives? this is an mcyt fandom. their songs deal with topics ranging from abuse (from both parties, the abuser and the abusee), adoption, getting mad at people on the internet, feeling like you're bad at life, and so much more, and it's all very beautifully written and sung. "the moon will sing" rips me to shreds every time, but also check out "volta," "nobody," "ancient history," and their latest single "the well"

some other bands i cannot reccomend any specifics from because im not big on them are los campensinos!, good kid, two door cinema club, and the hoosiers. they're very similar sonically, but beyond that i can't tell you more because i dont care that much.

[k8lan06]

Haven't played the game, won't play the game, fuck the game.

The air is heavy and suffocating, feels wrong, like the walls are slowly closing in until they can't.

Ghost, Gaz and Prize sit in silence. The humming of the plane filling in the void, ghost has been staring at the seat where soap was sitting before the mission.

Price, lighting his 3rd ciggar, looking out the window trying to process what happened just hours prior.

And gaz, the closest to soap, it hasn't hit him yet he doesn't even know why he's crying, he's mad at himself but he doesn't know why.

One thing in common they're all dreading to think about.

You

Flash back

You're 4 months pregnant with soaps second child, you had found out a week before that it was girl but you were waiting to tell him in person. 'Too risky to call for your own safety lass.'

He told you on your third date after he opened up about being in the army, he thought you'd leave him but no, you insisted you stay by his side and he knew right then and there that you were the one.

When the team had gonna to the bar after finding Valeria and the missiles, he had one too many drinks when he let it slip

'Ay, got a missus at home, a wee lad too.' He slurred, drunk as hell.

Gaz a couple of days later asked again about soaps lover and especially about the kid.

'Aye Y/N and Oscar, sassy lil lad gets it from his mother, she reckons he's got my eyes.' He says rubbing the back of his neck.

End of flash back

Now here they are, the sun's setting, few people on the afternoon walk, couple of dogs barking in the distance while its sprinkling rain.

his dog tags neatly sitting in a small box. They can hear the little kid running a muck,

They all look at each other before price nods, taking off his hat and ringing the door bell before stepping back.

Oscar who's only 4 manages to open the door a little bit before you can answer, Oscar looks up at the 3 men, before smiling with a missing tooth.

"Hello." He waves at all of them, price smiles back and ask if there's anyone home. Oscar shakes his head yes before closing the door.

He calls out to his mother, you, as you're coming down the stairs

Scolding him for opening the door to strangers, you open the door and notice them standing there before bending down and whispering to Oscar to go to his room.

Ghost who's the first to notice the small bump on your stomach, followed after price then gaz,"Hello, may I help you?" You ask with a small smile, shifting your feet.

Price is the first to speak respectfully as he hands you the box with soaps dog tags and other trinkets, " 'm sorry, love"

You slowly start to connect the pieces before tears swelling up your eyes as you hold the box.

Gaz had been silently crying this whole time takes off his hat before walking up and down the drive way.

You slowly slide down against the door, tears flowing quickly down your face, you shake your head before a muffled sob escapes.

"Please no no, nonono oh god please." You scream, clutching the dog tags as you hyperventilate. This wasn't suppose to be like this, this wasn't suppose to happen.

Price feels the corner of his eyes start to tighten, he takes a deep breath before comforting you "im so sorry ma'am"

[imaginesofeverykind]

Witches Brew ~ Chapter 4

Summary: To practice magic is to slight God with the devil's embrace. It is evil, sin, consuming and the price one pays is never worth what one seeks. Yet people, in times of desperation often turn to desperate measures, in Aegon’s case, medicinal remedy is not an option. No healer can undo what has been done. But the Hag tucked away behind reeds, water topped with algae and the voracious bog may be able to. For a price.

Warnings: Blood and Gore, Character Death, catholic-centric monotheism demonised

Tags: DnD Fusion AU, Targaryens are noblefolk, Aegon is a werewolf.

Word Count: 6.1k

Chapter Song: ‘O’Death’ Theme (Until Dawn Soundtrack) - Jeff Grace, Amy Van Roekel

SORRY THIS IS TWO WEEKS LATE !!! I literally got slammed at work two weeks in a row, i did so much OT and im SORRY but here she is yall :’(((((

Series Masterlist

You’re Back. The void bringing a sense of unnerving, and much like it had been the previous time — overstimulated the senses tenfold like a barrage of everything all at once. You move, but there is no feeling of your legs carrying you, just that you have moved from point to point with no memory of getting there. It was a more disorienting form of how you materialize from one place to the other, except in the prime realm you knew where you were going.

Here, there was nothing to determine a position or place other than the faint sense of knowing you weren’t in the same place. A droning of magical song ebbs and flows, louder or softer depending on whichever direction you appear to be going. Perhaps spirits are reaching out or even the Gods, faintly you recall Auntie speaking in hushed whispers whenever she reached out to Syrrelio, God of Blood, and think for a moment that this may be his domain.

Though you wait, there is no voice calling from the great beyond, no divine message flowing through you or even a presence to indicate a greater celestial presence. There was something, however. A beacon of warmth beckoning you in the void, barely detectable but the heat was like being in close proximity of a large fire during a winter blizzard.

Finally, the small glimmer of light sparkles like a flare against the abyssal backdrop of pitch black darkness. At first you think your eyes are playing tricks on you, but it flickers again and there is an instant and urgent pull to go to whatever has your attention. An exit from this madness? Maybe so, but it was an answer you would not get this visit.

A violent and abrupt flash of light from the sun’s spotty beams cutting through the trees of the kitchen window jerk you back to the prime realm. There is a moment of utter confusion as you take in the surroundings with care, the hut remains in tact and in normal shabby condition, but the cause of confusion is that you are standing over the table with a sprig of dried Goodberry clutched in your hands hovering over the Mortar and Pestle.

Strange.

These… episodes… weren’t something brought on by sleeping it seemed. They were involuntary, like someone - or better yet - something was trying to send a message. It was only slightly unnerving to say the least, but shakily you continued on creating the healing brew like you weren’t just psychically accosted by an unseen force or entity.

The days were short but slowly dragged on a little later each day, now that Dead Winter’s Day had been to pass. Snow was still falling in excess, marking a relatively relentless bitter winter as the trees of the swamp withered and the bottle brush shrubs discoloured from frostburn. It wasn’t just the cold that swept through the dreary feeling across the swamp, you could sense that despite restoring Ornmirs shrine it had not settled the spirit.

Her unstable energy seemed to entice more malevolent creatures to the area, Stirges were now the least of your problems.

Your current problem required more attention — this evenings full moon was a mere few hours away judging by the soft sweeping darkness encasing the swamp and Aegon was yet to arrive. Since he started coming to see you he had been relatively punctual, often arriving midday at the earliest or mid-afternoon at the latest but never this close to dark.

It deeply concerned you, more than expected and it only slightly embarrassed you. The deep inner voices within your mind were at a battle, one half expressing urgent distress and beckoning to go and investigate, the other half was trying its best to reason and that there was nothing to worry about.

Today, it seemed, anxiety was much louder than reason. That paired with the unpleasant feeling that twisted inside your gut was reason enough for you to throw on your cloak and disappear into nothing, appearing back in reality inside the Fortress that overlooked Oldtown. He’d be beside himself if he hurt anyone, is what you tell yourself to not feel flustered and to justify why you’re going to him. Deep down you know he cared little for those inside the stony fort, only his siblings had the privilege.

Your hood concealed a great deal of your face and the cloak hid the rest of your attire, aware that you didn’t exactly look like the typical local roaming. It was disturbingly quiet which was odd enough considering it was renowned for housing belligerently loud swordsmen and knights.

And yet, as you cross the courtyard with a purpose it was as quiet as a chapel. Your eyes scanned the few people, some were holy men, some were servants and others were simple folk or traders but not a single notable individual in sight. Time was not on your side, as you give the darkening sky a despondent look before quickly making haste to the West Wing of the building.

Living quarters were located within the West Wing and if Aegon had any sense, he’d have locked himself in his room lest he be set loose to attack any ignorant wanderer. The lack of people around may have been a blessing in disguise, making things easier to lurk around without fear of being caught.

Most of the holy men were headed to the East Wing, where you had to assume the inbuilt chapel was since for the last three corridors you only passed servants who looked at you with curious glances but said nothing or alerted anyone. This corridor in particular inlaid carved stone, a garish green rug trailed from end to end with golden accents and the holy symbol of their false god reminded you how much you despised their religion.

The thought had barely registered in your head, softly stepping on the carpet and past a door that was half open.

”— and what of Aegon?”

Hearing his name pricked your ears and forced you to come to a stop, the voice was raspy, struggling to speak and airy. Viserys, was the first thought that came to your head, shocked slightly at how quickly he sounded to be deteriorating. You lean against the carvings that lined the door, not caring to look up and inspect whatever lavish artistry has been wasted on accenting what amounted to a door hole.

“If I may speak plainly, my Lord… Aegon… he is a sinner.” Another voice, older but more confident. A priest. You think, a holy devoted man. “He has been unfit to take over long before you became ill, you must know this, your Lady wife knows this.”

Your eyes flicker to the window, the sky darkening with each moment, you have little time to waste but find it difficult to step off from the wall you leant against, wanting to hear what was being said while Aegon was absent. From the stories he has vaguely revealed, you piece together that this can’t be very pleasant —.

”—Devil work is at play, are we to ignore what Ser Criston reported back… The hag of the swamp may be gone but she has left a younger in her stead. A younger, might I add that Aegon has been seen visiting every month.” A stern female voice snapped imperiously, ah, you stop to focus, Alicent.

“There is no charge, no proof, we can’t simply abscond the witchling or trial her.” The priest grew weary by the sounds of things. This discussion had been happening for a long while before you happened to stop by and eavesdrop. “Though… we may still be able to help Aegon. A procedure a higher devout can perform, through the word of God, to banish any and all devils that possess a human.”

The silence was thick, almost as though there was a fourth person speaking amongst the three until it was broken, “send one of the stablemen to Durrenden, I want Aegon back here tonight for the procedure. I also want Ser Criston sent to the swamp bitches abode and have her apprehended for maleficium, devil craft, seduction and heresy. She has poisoned my son long enough, I want her burnt in the square.”

A threat against your very being didn’t seem to spark fear within you like it should have, it had quite distinctly the opposite effect, a giddy smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. You’d never been a part of a witch hunt before and it sounded rather exhilarating.

“She is right, I will not have another of my children marr this house with shame. Do what must be done,” Viserys weary and tired seemed to want to put an end to the conversation - or arguing - you weren’t entirely sure.

You make a face, once again feeling that you should be fearful or somewhat scared but instead find the ordeal quite amusing. Mayhaps the confidence in Lady Alicents imperious tone about your persecution was what tickled at your humour. Auntie was sure to have cackled if she were present, but the nagging feeling stirring within drew your smirk down to a thin line.

Aegon could not be taken tonight, that was of utmost importance — The nebulous ‘procedure’ the holy man spoke of did well to cause unease within, if anything about this religion was clear is that many of this belief did horrendous acts to justify and uplift their false idol.

Durrenden. The small village southwest of Oldtown, bordering the edge of the swamp was all you seemed to know of it, not being the one you occasionally pass through for fresh produce. But Alicent’s comment on sending their Holy Knight there gave answer to why the Fortress was so barren of life, as to why Aegon and the swordsmen were down there, remained a mystery.

With little time left you close into yourself, disappearing within a blink and reappearing on the outer edges of the swamp. Durrenden a short walk, silhouetted by the sun that had begun descending behind it, haloing golden edges around the small huts and buildings. Temporary battlements had been set up, tents scattered close to the town's walls and many swordsmen wearing the insignia of their God.

One might think they were ready for war, though you had no time to ask or answer hypotheticals inside your head. Time was running low if the colour of the sky was any indication. Hurried in stride and purposeful with your steps, Durrenden surrounded you quickly with its townsfolk sneering and occasional swordsman wearily casting gazes. None of the strangers blurring past you had violet eyes nor silver locks of hair which caused unsteady panic to brew within, there was a small voice in the back of your mind that cast doubt. What if he was already at the hut? Perhaps he snuck away without anyone seeing him, but the surplus of men and eyes around indicated that the task may be unfeasible.

The steady stream of armored men flowing to and from the village tavern served as a good starting point, remembering Aegon mentioning that he’d sneak into the Howling Keep (a poor mans tavern) in Oldtown. The naming convention humoured you greatly at the time, though Aegon grimaced and looked at you with a deadpan expression.

You push open the Oak doors, not caring for the two patrons you cut off by doing so causing a slight commotion. Everyone within turned their heads and fell silent once their gaze fell on you — from head to toe not a single thing about the attire you adorned or markings drawn into your skin indicated you were a commoner or local.

Scanning the room, your eyes fell on a pair of violet ones, familiar but not Aegon’s. They were deeper violet, one slightly off colour and colder, narrowed down to a cautious glare. Aemond. Dressed in dark leathers, chain mail glinting from beneath the studded black vest with a different insignia. Not a symbol of their God but a house crest. A Three-Headed Dragon.

“Where is he?” You demand, disregarding all others in the tavern, speaking to him as though you were the only two in the room.

He is still for a moment, though you aren’t able to decipher if he’s wanting to argue back or is merely conflicted in aiding you. As far as you were aware he had at least a vague idea of what occurred on full moons, and must know that was the reason for your intrusion. Yet, he hesitates.

Two swordsmen step forward before he holds a hand out and dismisses them, there is a soft grumble in displeasure while he strides toward you. He brushes past you, heading back out the way you came, and you follow quietly behind him. Many of the locals and swordsmen watch with attentiveness, judgment passing through their cold glares as if you were on your way to lead Aemond to eternal damnation right before their eyes.

Neither of you exchange discussion as there was little need to do so, yet the question of why Lord Targaryen’s men were out in Durrenden as though an invasion was due hung at the tip of your tongue. It never passes your lips, even as he leads you to one of the larger tents, the same house crest embroidered on the tent door.

Inside, unlike sleeping quarters like you anticipated to see, there sat a large cage manned by a single guard. Within it, Aegon sat slumped against one of the bars in some type of drunken stupor though his pained groans carried to your ears instantly. The cage is far too large for something like a lycanthrope, your first thought followed by, they’re going after Ornmir.

Your question was finally answered but there was much too little time to reprimand Aemond and the men of the battalion. In a quick sweep, you fade from beside the younger brother and appear beside Aegon who hadn’t quite processed your arrival just yet. “Apologies, we must make haste — I don’t have time to explain,” your voice is softer than you expected, voice cradling him as though he were an injured animal.

He looks up at you, eyes half lidded but attentive when they search your face. Sweat beaded down his forehead, down past his flushed cheeks, “bumble,” he whispers in a drunken slur and it takes you a moment to realize he is addressing you.

“I’ve nothing to give for the pain,” you fumble with the pouch on your belt before gently placing a hand at the base of his neck to cradle his head and the other to grip his arm tightly. You cast a pointed look at Aemond before your surroundings fade away, no longer encaged and inside a tent but now surrounded by dozens of trees on an old faded trail. The furthest south of the Swamp, knowing it was too risky to return to the hut.

It seemed as though you had mere minutes to spare, the sky no longer streaked with orange and yellow, completely covered in darkness with the moon rising over the horizon.

***

Faint mildew and damp earth fill your nostrils as you awaken, there is initial panic when your eyes fly open to surroundings that weren’t the decrepit interior of your abode. Condensation dripping from rocky walls subtly glimmering in the flickering light of a waning lantern, you are reminded where you have taken temporary refuge.

Everywhere ached, the muscles around your shoulders and neck yearned for some tension release while your legs felt stiff from a night of keeping the wolf entertained. Surprisingly, Aegon being inebriated hadn’t done much to effect the transformation or behaviour from your observations aside from a comment he made after dawn broke and he laid on the swamp ground, chest rising and falling after shakily becoming normal again.

“My fucking head,” was all he groaned before promptly passing out. A massacred hand resting atop his forehead as though that would do much to alleviate his pain.

Now, his breaths were simple and consistent like any other noise within the deep cave you chose as sanctuary. His head rested on your lap for lack of a proper bed for him to rest and gain some strength back — at least that's what you tell yourself. Nevermind you are aimlessly combing fingers through his hair, detangling the ends riddled with sweat and blood.

It must have been mid afternoon when he stirred awake, eyes fluttering open to take in the surroundings. You had half expected him to sleep for the entire day and well into the night, looking down on him you offer a smile in the dimly lit cave. A flourish of one hand and murmur an incantation, materialising four orbs of light that float nearby to brighten the area.

“You came for me,” He croaks, voice crackly no doubt from straining it the night prior, turning his head in your lap to look up at you. The first thing he says is not to question where you had taken him, he trusted you without question and this statement wasn’t lost on you whatsoever.

There was something very innocent in the moment and perhaps it had been the fact you were still raking fingers through his hair despite it had long been detangled.

Casting your gaze downward it was becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore the feelings that stirred within, no matter how hard you tried to reason that it was something else entirely. You cared for him. The revelation should not be one that is shocking, half a year in tending to him would indicate this truth and yet it still shook you to the core.

Loneliness was a bitter thing, you had plenty of loneliness over the course of your life that it seem only fair to rid yourself of it.

”An unfortunate twist in fate has me caring for you, it seems,” you admit dryly, feeling lighter and less wound up upon saying the words aloud. “A most ill-fated outcome considering it is I who put this burden on you.” A sardonic smile mocking your own misfortune, of course it would be fated that the cure to loneliness would be in the form of a man you had inflicted a most painful blight upon.

He is silent for a moment, so still that you'd have thought he fell back asleep if it weren’t for his attentive violet eyes looking up at you, he finally says, “I tried to leave them at the road before Durrenden — They wouldn’t let me.”

”So they encaged you?”

“No,” he smiles meekly, “that was after I stole two carafes of wine from our reserve.” A flash of something must have passed through him causing the corners of his lips drop, eyes suddenly dimming with resignation as he looks away for the first time, “I thought if I was too drunk to feel anything I wouldn’t be in pain.”

Stupid. You admonish silently, but your chest tugs at the words of a man who simply wishes for the pain to fade. It was the first time you considered that he isn’t just talking about the pain of transformation. Without jostling him around too much, you reach into the small pouch off to the side and pull out a small phial, the best you can offer considering you weren’t in the hut.

After passing it over to him wordlessly you sigh and look around the cave, “your family’s Knight was sent to fetch you, the holy man mentioned to your mother a procedure to ‘purge you of sin’.”

”You went to the castle?” He asks, sitting up as though he were startled by the notion. Wincing at the sudden movement, he steadied himself on the wall beside you. At some point between your fated first meeting and now, he stopped complaining or questioning whenever you handed him things to consume. Since there was little resistance when you handed him a small bottle of sanguine liquid.

”To look for you,” a simple answer and yet it still caused your stomach to flutter, “your mother seems to be of the belief I have corrupted you with devil work… I wasn’t aware she was so… pious.” As amusing as a witch hunt sounded to you yesterday, it felt more cumbersome in reality and you had only really been forced into hiding for a mere day.

Your words struck him as amusing, a dry laugh falling from his cracked lips and you curse yourself for not thinking to get water amongst the hubbub of yesterday. “In the bigger picture, you have done little to push me into the devil’s clutches, my lady.” He addresses you, as if a highborn and not a witch of the woods or at the very least; a Commoner. The phrase catches you by surprise, so much so there is a physical reaction akin to a slight recoil. It sounded foreign to hear it, but you didn’t hate it.

A connection in your head seems to click, instantaneously dismissing what you were going to say about what he called you and in comes a flood of thoughts so incredibly obvious that you are almost ashamed to say anything about it now. But, your mouth moves much quicker than your mind and a sharp, “oh gods,” falls from your lips.

He stares at you, looking embarrassed as if you were lambasting his choice of words but that couldn’t be further from the truth. “I might — well it is possible to relieve you of this curse but the chances may not be in our favour.” It wasn’t some magical cure out of nowhere and it wasn’t without risks involved but if done right it could be done.

There’s confusion etched into his facial features, for that you couldn’t blame him, “but this is a blood curse —,”

”It is not a cure, per se…” Trying to find the words seemed difficult, especially ones that wouldn’t be insensitive, “if you recall this ailment was imparted onto Aemond and I moved the curse. Blood curses attach themselves to the essence of a person which is why they can be moved to family members — which is why I could rid him of it.”

”Be that I dislike my brother, I do not wish for him to suffer monthly —“

“Sibling blood is closer entwined than other familial relatives but much like I restored Aemonds eye, I could attempt to move the curse to someone else… someone who is already on the cusp of death.” It would be all too easy to say his name aloud, but there was a part within your aware conscience that felt it rather evil for suggesting second hand patricide.

Though you needn’t say his name, Aegon understood wholeheartedly, “Viserys.” Not ‘Father’, not a hint of endearing or love in his tone. The relationship between father and son had long severed before you had waylaid the noble family with magic interference all those months ago. It may have not been your intent to send the Lord to an early grave, the fates seemed to have planned for it anyway.

You just hoped they planned for him to suffer one last time.

There was an already inherent distaste for the man, one that was imparted to you from Aunties bias but it only increased tenfold when Aegon would regale you with stories of how absent and horrible of a man Viserys seemed despite the public opinion being otherwise. How does a man have five children and only care for one? Even for that one child, the care presents as thinly veiled kindness at best from what you’ve heard.

He mulls over the idea, you can sense his hesitancy to answer and it is something you don’t hold over him considering what you are suggesting could be coercive murder in the eyes of the church.

“Forgive me, if I spoke out of turn.” You say softly, smiling at him as if silently understanding the conflict within him. If anyone had been present to hear such blasphemy you were most definitely not avoiding the accusations of being a harbinger of chaos and devil whisperer.

”No,” he shook his head, there was uncertainty in whether he was denying your suggestion or if he disagreed that you’d stepped over a line. Even you were self aware enough of how bad it sounded, but over the course of half a year the two of you seemed to slowly understand the inner machinations of one another enough to know when something was laced with malicious intent or not. While he understood to a degree your distrust and ire toward the head of his family, he has never had reason to believe that you worked with an ulterior motive. Initially, perhaps, but now? No.

”I want to say yes,” he begins, a pained look within his eyes laden with guilt, “but what option remains for me? I am his eldest son. He is destined to pass, sure. But my path lay already ahead of me. To become Lord of the city regardless of if I’m afflicted by a curse or not. This —,” he gestures to himself, riddled with grime and filth, “— this is physical pain but no matter my options I will suffer.”

The strain in his voice gave quite a clear indication that he was hesitant to be so vulnerable, not for a lack of trust, it seemed as though the cause for his trepidation simply grew from a lack of someone around to listen to his complaints. You tactfully reach over and clasp his hand. Entwined it was easy to see how the dirt and muck complimented one another on each hand with wayward splatters and streaks like paintings on parchment.

He seldom spoke of duty, opting to spit in the face of it whenever the topic broached but you knew what lay ahead of him when the inevitable arrival of death comes to consume Viserys. A strange custom, you noted. Many families had long abandoned succession through eldest offspring, a handful of Lords (Targaryens included) seemed to keep the tradition, whether it be in honour of tradition or it aligned religiously though you were unsure of.

To be a Lord and be ailed with something as unforgiving as Lycanthropy would become harder to hide, a bigger burden, one that would turn the devout folk on him in an instant. Public opinion on the man beside you, already sat lower than the other siblings, in a cruel string of fate it almost feels as though he were destined to fail.

“But you are second to oldest, what of your sister?” You ask.

“Rhaenyra?” His voice was laced with surprise, he spoke very little of her and though you never prodded further there was uncertainty of if he held disdain toward her and that had been the reason for his little mention of her or if there was something else. “He may love her more than the rest of us but she will never inherit after what she’s done to the family.”

I will not have another of my children marr this family with shame. Viserys had said this the previous day, now with context it seemed to make sense. You were in no position to question further and you didn’t, though little pieces of information you’d gathered over the months fell into place, albeit disjointed but nonetheless sensical.

The oldest of the siblings, born to a different mother was free-spirited and rather outspoken, if the rumours of the common folk were to be believed then she ran off with Viserys’ brother and her Uncle for love. You’d initially taken the slighted gossip with a pinch of salt but could think of no other reason Rhaenyra could bring shame to such a proud and religious family.

You spare Aegon a look, not pitiful or full of sorrow and despair but one that was at least hopeful.

“If you ever wish to disappear, far from here, say the words and I will make it happen.” A grim solution, but it was the only thing you could think about that would keep Aegon’s conscience intact with the least amount of bodies in the process.

“Threat of death? After all this time? Here I was beginning to think you tolerated me,” he found it within himself to jest, a smile on his lips that etched into your mind long after he turned away sullenly, “I couldn’t… I can’t leave them.”

The unspoken burden of the oldest remaining sibling weighs heavy on him, you have come to learn many things about Helaena and Daeron in passing comments or quips. Aemond fiercely sits in the peripheral of your thoughts often when you think of Aegon and wonder how different things may have been if you didn’t help Aemond.

“I tolerate you no more than a crocodile tolerates a drowning wildebeest in his river,” you jest, suppressing a coy smile. You squeeze his hand reassuringly and as if responding to a question, he squeezed yours in return. “Threat of death is not so awful, death is not the end we believe it to be,” you muse, eyes cast down the expansive cave mouth, a very characteristically cryptic moment from you.

Down the cave, a seemingly tiny dot in the distance was your only indicator of an exit, a light that specified the sun's bright rays was what awaited you when it was time to leave the soggy cavernous hole.

Deep rumbling shudders through the cave, a great force rippling through the ground no different to how an earthquake unmistakingly rips through the earth indiscriminately. Though it is a force of nature, it is not what one might think as queit relief washes over you. Aegon looks to you in search of an answer or reaction, you remain unbothered and look to him with a sincere smile, “you’re a good man, Aegon… I only wish for others to see you the way I do.”

He is stunned a moment, possibly wondering where that came from as you were thinking the same but he looks past you and back nervously, “this isn’t the moment where you leave me at the mercy of whatever thing has crawled in here?”

You laugh and shake your head, a sound so foreign to even you it was a wonder how you managed to share a space with Auntie who was decidedly humourless for so many years. “This cave may be Ornmir’s own domicile but she won’t hurt you, and I won’t leave you here either… I believe it isn’t safe to return to the hut. Your holy knight might still be on the lookout for you and I’d prefer you rest before I release you back to those den of wild dragons.”

What you wanted to say more than anything was, stay, stay here with me and never go back to the wretches who seek to ruin you. But it was hard, hard to even admit that first and foremost and hard to be so vulnerable with someone. Auntie kept you at arms length always as if preparing you for the inevitable time she left you, feeling attached to someone always seemed forbidden.

But with Aegon, it was easy. So easy it was terrifying.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks quietly, when you turn to him his eyes are already trained on your face as if trying to pry into your very thoughts.

The words can’t form in your mouth, the admission that perhaps loneliness wasn’t what fulfilled you any longer refused to leave your mouth so you search for another answer quickly. Despite not finding a way to express your inner thoughts you find your body leaning in toward him, hands cupping the sides of his face and pressing your forehead against his in a manner that was more intimate than expected.

Noses brushing against one another, your eyes look down at the curve of his cheeks from the smoothest point to where his stubble had started to break through.

“Let me make this right,” you promise, thumbs brushing softly over his cheeks, “the least I can do is try and take away the curse I put on you. I cannot cure the ailments of the future but I can undo my own wretched infliction.”

“Okay,” he breathes out in a voice so small you wouldn’t hear it if it weren’t for his breath lightly fanning your face. “What about you?” He asks almost painfully, and you selfishly think it’s at the thought of the monthly visits coming to a stop.

”You are no stranger, I wish for you to visit on your own terms, not because you’re forced too.”

“Okay.” He says again, hands coming up to sit atop yours over his face.

The two of you remain there for an uncertain amount of time, you don’t fully recall disengaging from the embrace but you do. Quietly going over the plan for the evening, you stated many times throughout that the likelihood of success was slim and the results wouldn’t bear its fruit until a month away, but you’d be damned if you were going to at least try.

Aegon assured you he was well rested and in fact argued he should accompany you. Him joining was not the problem, it was the prospect of his mother or holy knight finding him before you could finish the ritual. There was little else you could do to convince him otherwise as he held onto your hand firmly when you whisk the both of you away through darkness and into the Fortress.

Night had fallen a couple of hours prior, the sun no longer commanding the skies but the moon. Her rays of silver cascaded through stained glass and created prismatic shapes of colour on the carpet below your feet as they quietly roamed the West Wing corridor together. Aegon still held onto your hand.

Much like it had been the day prior, it was desolate bar from the occasional servant who eyed the two of you but made no comment or haste to alert anyone.

“Aransmore wrote to us about their cattle getting eaten and the farmers being terrorized by a great beast in the swamp… that is why we set for Durrenden.” Aegon whispered cautiously, you had guessed he felt as though he owed you some degree of explanation for why the castle was bare and Durrenden had so many swordsmen.

”Yes.. Ornmir… She’s — She’s still angry and I am unsure what the cause is. Her shrine has been repaired yet there is an ire that remains present. I shall visit her again in time…once this has been settled,” you nod at him, quietly responding.

Once outside a large set of oak doors, gilded gold edging and embellishments, there was little mystery left at who lay in the chambers beyond them. Neither of you make the first move, both merely staring at the door as if it would open on its own accord.

You look over at Aegon, “we need not go through this, if you wish it so.”

“No,” he says softly, looking down, then back up to the door, “no I want to.” His voice is hardened, more determined and you wish more than anything you could read his thoughts but you turn away and nod.

He surprises you more, taking the first step forward but you are the one who opens the door. Both of you have an unspoken kinship bred from months of understanding each other slowly.

The room is dark, save for the silver light of the moon cascading through the open window. Despite the cool breeze flowing through, the room stank distinctly of mold and must, as though the windows had been sealed shut for years. Your eyes settle on Viserys, the first time you’ve seen him since ailing him with his son's mangled eye. He was less man than he was rot, you decided, the cause of the smell being him.

Half of his face blackened with necrosis, the infection taking a rather nasty turn. The leeches on his face had no more incentive to keep eating away at the flesh, not when it had shrunk down to the bone and exposed part of his skull. It was grotesque, really, but your face remained unmoved as you stood beside the bed and looked down at him. Only then did your face twist into something unpleasant.

You turn to Aegon, face pulled to a frown that half indicated disgust, nostrils slightly flared and eyebrows crossed together into a sullen expression. “He’s dead.” You say, defeatedly.

You were too late.

Tag List (lemme know if you wanna be tagged :D)

@karlachs-soldier @serving-targaryen-realness @deltamoon666 @bogbutteronmycroissant @heavenly1927

[kreeative-error]

“Nothing would be better/Than a mark on me, a bullet to attest”

Intro post below the cut 🌻🌼

Welcome to my blog! This is where i scream into the void or just talk to my moots. If you’re here, welcome!

Current Theme: I Lose To You by Madds Buckley

About me:

I’m a minor, so please be sfw and not weird.

I am also hella queer!!

If you’re straight/dont know much about the community - Biromantic Asexual Trans Man.

If you get more complex queer terms - Genderqueer Trans Guy, Aroflux Asexual Omniromantic.

Definitely mentally ill of various flavours which i will not elaborate on for person reasons, and also the lack of diagnosis.

Definitely weird, probably cringe, and slightly crazy.

Also i swear a lot so if you dont like that, this is not the blog for you.

Interests:

Artists:

Madds Buckley

Conan Gray

The Crane Wives

Sparkbird

Fish in a Birdcage

IDKHowButTheyFoundMe

Specific Songs (I will totally forget to update this):

River Rushing (TCW)

Scars (TCW)

Mad Dog (TCW)

The Wolf (TCW)

Nobody (TCW)

Wine and Wheat (Madds)

I Lose to You (Madds)

Brother (Madds)

Dogbird (Madds)

The Exit (Conan)

Alley Rose (Conan)

Miss you (Conan)

Comfort Crowd (Conan)

Arboretum (Sparkbird)

#4 Fish in a birdcage (FIAB)

Absinthe (IDKhow)

Choke (IDKhow)

Games:

Totk/Botw

Pressure

Doors

Hollow Knight (in spirit)

There is definitely more I just cannot think rn.

Shows/Movies:

Arcane

The Dragon Prince

Heartstopper

The Owl House

Helluva/Hazbin

again. there is more. but the second people ask I forget.

Moots <33 (Narrowed down to the ones I actually talk to):

@theboredasexual - borace/fruit/smamon/salmon, my beloved queezy pipi (qpp) (forever seperated by a squishy wall)

@atellidoesart - telli/dermatitis, another beloved queezy pipi (forever seperated by PHYSICAL DISTANCE COME HERE I MISS YOU)

@bassguitarinablackt-shirt - fellow madds enjoyer, pjo nerd (i have never read it but he sure posts about it a lot)

@catinasink - we barely talk but theyre pretty chill

@aayeroace - the og moot. literally. my first moot that i didnt know irl.

@streetcatalex - i dont think we've spoken but i send ur rbs to the qpps every 2 seconds u have immaculate taste

(if any of yall want off this list, dm/ask me and i will take it off)

Alt Accs:

@meanwhile-in-aevynfall - worldbuilding with borace

@omg-im-obessed-with-madds - I JUST REALISED THERES A TYPO FUCK- madds buckley fan acc i barely use

@leo-is-a-trainwreck - secret account that turned into a bit with borace, but has been revealed. basically a conan gray shrine.

@frank-and-the-eggs - the forever neglected hazbin account. why am i even tagging it.

my tags:

#kree speaks - my random rambles

#kree is lyricposting once more - music related rambles. also lyricposting.

#kree is maddsposting - the dedicated madds tag

#lucky flickerman'd with kree - sad shit. hopefully wont be a lot of this.

#THATS ENOUGH OCS KREE - oc posting my beloved <333

#mootiful moots with kree - my moots <33

#the queasy pipis - borace/telli posting

(Will be added to as needed)

credits:

dividers: https://www.tumblr.com/strangergraphics/754093179264008192/vintage-floral-dividers-part-2-please-like-and?source=share

[edwin-payne-enthusiast]

this is just me rambling to the void but i honestly find it crazy that ive been in the tss fandom for six years and no other piece of media could pull me out of that hyperfixation, then along came dbda and now im venturing into a new fandom for the first time. idk that kind of speaks lengths for how damn good the show is. so mad it's been cancelled. like i will never recover.

[bluegekk0]

so you have voice claims for grimm and fpk? im curious to know what they sound like in your head, and the rest of the family too haha

I already answered a similar question a while back but I'd love to revisit it! I'll drop some samples/clips as well, like I did last time.

Vyrm in my head sounds like Rory Williams from Doctor Who. Here is an example of what he sounds like. He does speak rather quietly, though, so this short clip from another video is probably an even better example. Whenever you talk to him, you definitely get the impression that he sounds like this on purpose, like he doesn't want to be too loud and bother anyone. It's almost like he's constantly half-whispering.

Grimm, to me, sounds like Mads Mikkelsen. Particularly his role in Doctor Strange, like this clip. One thing to note though, he speaks in a much stronger accent with trilled R sounds. But the depth and general sound of his voice would be very close to Mads.

EDIT: The accent part is still accurate, but I now imagine his voice to be more similar to Chronos from Hades II. The god-like otherworldly echo is only present whenever he's angry (or wants to scare someone), otherwise he speaks normally.

In the previous ask I said that his Nightmare King form has a different voice, and I still stand by that. Back then I suggested another Doctor Who character, The Beast from the episode "The Satan Pit". But while replaying Horizon Forbidden West, I realized how much I love how Hades sounds there and I think I much prefer that for NKG. Here are the voice lines. It sounds incredibly ominous, but also oddly soothing, which I think fits Grimm/NKG perfectly. Though like I said earlier, he would have a slightly different accent. Also, it fits especially well considering he's much weaker after his banishment, so I think it would be really interesting if his voice in the Nightmare Realm reflected that.

Hornet has in-game voice lines, and she'll surely have even more of them in Silksong, but my interpretation of her sounds a bit different. Ellie from The Last of Us is basically how I imagine it. No additional comments here.

Holly is a bit tricky since they don't talk, but they still make sounds. More specifically, the void within their body can rumble, producing low-pitched, quiet sounds, just like the Abyss ambience from the game. I've never thought about their voice if they were able to talk, for some reason I just can't imagine what that would sound like. Them being voiceless is a very big part of their character for me.

Zote... He probably has the most extensive voice lines in the game, so I never actually looked for a voice for him. Since in the AU he's not an old man like many people think, it makes some sense that he'd sound younger. I definitely think he'd have an overdramatic, borderline cartoonish sound to his voice. You know, Oblivion's voice acting is really goofy but it might just be the lead. Maybe he'd sound like the Bosmer from that game? It's fitting cause they often sound like absolute jerks hahah

Lewk, like I said before, would sound like young Simba from The Lion KIng. It just fits in my mind. And continuing the Lion King inspiration, I like to think Milo sound like young Kovu from the second movie once he's Lewk's age. And Asta would sound like young Nala, just to complete the trinity hahaha

I'm not 100% sure about Zote and the twins, so if I find better voices I'll probably update this post or make a new one.