#genuine criticism and also like just me missing her words

[ewwww-what]

Not enough acknowledgment of Ayda Aguefort being the best friend and girlfriend in the entire world. SHE IS MILLIONS OF YEARS IN THE PAST AND SHES STILL THINKING ABOUT WHAT SHE CAN DO FOR THE PEOPLE SHE LOVES. I CANNOT DO THIS SHIT RIGHT NOW.

[elliesbff]

“i need you.” — abby anderson

hi hi! sorry it took me so long to get to this second part, i’ve been going through a lot mentally and have just been trying to get my head around things. i genuinely hope this teeters to your satisfaction ♡ thank you for all the likes on pt 1 !

summary: after tending to neglected needs, it takes 5 words to turn the tables. notes: nsfw, scissoring, oral sex, (r!receiving) fingering, (r! receiving) slight dacryphilia, a bit of hair pulling, softdom!abby, sub!reader. wc: 2,793 | tags: none

read pt 1 of " i need you " here!

moments prior,

abby’s braid slid graciously past her shoulder as she pulled away from your short lived embraced, already missing the warmth of her sun kissed skin. it seemed like she was in a hurry, scurrying out of the gym in the blink of an eye. as you took a moment to gather yourself, you realised that she’d left her bottle behind, and her bench remained uncleaned. you stood there dumbfounded, what could she have planned that was more important than gymnasium hygiene? after all, it was her that taught all you know.

when you were nothing but a baby wolf, abby took notice of you as a new recruit and instantly saw potential in you, taking you under her wing and training you like hell to fulfil your true abilities. although you were nowhere near as burly or as experienced in combat as her, you were quite good with weaponry and crafting, as well as adapting to your surroundings, making do with what you had on you during critical times.

she calls you ‘the scavenger’ when you were not present. it was her unique way of honouring how far you’d come since joining the WLF, how she paved the way for the indestructible soldier she firmly believes you’ll grow up to be one day. it’s also just her adorable little nickname for you that she beckons nobody uses in her place.

she has the upmost faith in you. growing closer with each patrol, each gym session, and sometimes just casually hanging about the FOB or at each others rooms. your friendship was something others envied; it was pure, full of trust and built upon mutual respect. but those closest to you knew it meant more than what first meets the eye.

abby was out of sight in the blink of an eye, you look around in a suspicious daze, trying to follow her whereabouts. she was quick, but not quicker than you.

you had a long-overdue session to finish, but abby looked relatively… uneasy. something was wrong, and you could feel it. the line between instincts and curiosity began to blur as your feet developed a mind of their own, your duffel bag and towel long gone as you’d already turned the corner outside the gymnasium.

maybe you were overreacting, maybe it was overkill to automatically assume the worst was happening to her. but if something was really up with abby, you wouldn’t live it down if you didn’t initiate help.

the look on abby’s face as you stared at her through the firmly rimmed glass, her beautifully arched eyebrows furrowing only ever illuminating her intense eyes — a million thoughts a minute ran through your mind, instinctively charging for two heavy silver doors and up a random stairwell. you could smell the scent of pine and sweat — that was definitely abby.

all reasoning for your unexplainable shenanigans flew out the window as you approached abby’s room, a series of shuffles followed by a supposed muffled voice echoed from the opposite side.

your hand hesitantly reached up to knock, only to realise the door was never locked to begin with. abby could never be that careless, — maybe manny, but regardless — she would sometimes recall times where she’d have to remind him to lock up before leaving during your sessions at the gym. she’d never make a mistake she so harshly scolded people for.

your face inches closer to the door, the cool solid wood sending a kiss of shivers across your exposed shoulders as it welcomingly swayed open.

with each step, the unintelligible noises grew much clearer, and it was becoming more palpable as to what that was entailing.

you’re heart only dropped to your gut at the sound of your name, uttered by a helpless, whining mess.

“please… please.”

the door conditionally, and gently swayed closed on its own behind you, a little clck locking the door in full as you took a couple steps closer. was this a figment of your twisted imagination? the soft whimpers and subsequent cries of your name begged to differ. it was no secret now. abby had a thing for you. you were almost too afraid to move as each whine only grew more vehement.

with a couple more stalled footsteps, you froze at the sight of abby, completely ruining herself at the fate of her own hand.

your eyes widened instantly, the warm air prickling your eyes as would salt water. seeing her all ruined over the thought of you was enough to lift your hands over your mouth in keen disbelief.

you attempted to gather yourself, debating whether or not confronting her on this was the best idea — but no normal person would just walk away and forget this ever happened — forgetting the image of abby anderson, issac’s top scar killer, ramming her slick-covered fingers inside her wet cunt all while repeating your name under a dumbed spell? it’s not something that can just leave your mind at the drop of a hat. it certainly wouldn’t later, neither.

while lost in your thoughts, your tense arms dropped to your sides as your feet followed closer, the sound of your boots shuffling against the smooth concrete floor not catching her attention,

“abby?”

you watched as her oceanic eyes shot open, the abby you once believed would simply chuckle and brush off the idea of this, now scurried to find something, anything to cover her herculean figure, freckled arms still just poking out the sides.

it took more than an ounce of self control to not let yourself run wild at the fact that the abby anderson had a rather strong fancy for you, not to mention she was fucking herself to the thought of you.

as your initial astonishment subsided, your body beamed with want. seeing abby flushed and heated clouded your acclaimed critical thinking.

“…can i have a turn?” slipped from your lips after tending to abby’s own neglected desires.

and here you were, moments passing almost at the speed of light. you laid flat on your back, tits perked up from the arch of your back with abby towered over you. her estranged braid slid off her shoulder with her eyes staring you down. your neck generously splayed with bruises and bite-marks, only reminding you that she’s been wanting this for god knows how long. unbeknownst to her, you did too, you just never believed you’d live to ever experience it.

her hand lightly grazed over your tit, meticulously attending to your swollen nipple. her thumb teased at it, rubbing the area in circles to provoke a much anticipated and equally expected reaction. with her hand on your chest and her lips returning to attack your already purpled skin, you stifled a whine, bottom lip bit between your teeth. she kissed along your throat, from the point of your jaw to the crook of your neck.

she continued toying with your body as her tongue traversed to your waist, laying another round of sloppy kisses to your hip bones and abdomen.

it was like your skin grew ten times more tender whilst under her touch, each breath of hers against your skin feeling like a gentle tickle, accompanied by her large and surprisingly delicate hands palming your tits, it was growing to be too much, too much being your style, anyways.

her hand left your chest to firmly grip onto your hips, pulling you closer to her lap. she took her already soaked fingers, prodding at your pussy like you’d done previously. your breaths grew shakier with each flick of your clit.

her eyes returned to that intense, fiercely glare from back at the gym, so that’s why she was so concentrated, or rather in her own dreamland.

her tongue laid a generous coat of saliva along her lips, staring at your pussy like the starved woman she was. for how long she’d ached for this, you had no clue. this was bound to be a moment to remember.

your cunts were practically hugging each other, the feeling of being so close to her pussy only added fuel to the fire that gleamed in your core. the longer abby stared, just taking in your breathtaking body, the stronger the feeling of being exposed grew.

her head dives below your eye view, feeling her nose bump at your clit. she savours it, her tongue peeling out at an antagonisingly slow pace as she glares at you through her arched brows. she could taste it all, her juices mixed with yours..

your hand gently took rest within her blonde locks, hooking into the back of her braid.

“abby,”

you huffed, sounding more like a plead than anything. with each soft, trembling breath, she’d drag her tongue along your cunt in sync.

her face would dig further into you, arms slithering to wrap themselves around your thighs. even if you begged for her to slow down, your needy hole that clenched around nothing, desperate to be touched, told her otherwise.

abby would stare at you longingly, finally able to die happy between your tensing thighs as she rapidly swabbed your clit with your tongue, dragging it along in circles and the likes.

your body jerked at the sudden change in pace, back arching instinctively off the bed. the whole lower half of your body fired up, tingly and numb. her muffled grunts sent you haywire, violently gripping onto her hair. she was like a leech that wouldn’t let go, sucking and lapping around that sweet spot like her life depended on it.

“stop squirming.” abby would demand as she shoved your hips back onto the mattress, not once detaching herself from you.

you could barely comprehend anything she’d say as she was practically suffocating herself between your thighs, and you’d both be lying if you said you didn’t love it.

abby teased your cunt with her fingers, carefully slipping her thick digits inside of you. your legs squeezed around her head at the sensation of feeling so full. her fingers, let alone hands, were thicker than yours. and they felt much more fulfilling.

your moans would blend harmoniously, both equally experiencing pleasure from the other as you climbed the ladder of your climax.

abby’s suppressed grunts would only ring through your ears. where was the abby that was so shamelessly call out your name moments ago?

your grip on her hair tightened, practically dragging her face along your cunt to accumulate as much friction as your body desired. her fingers would work wonders, unforgivingly pumping in and out of you as her tongue would rub against your clit. each time she would flick against it you’d jolt, back arched with a shy hand over your mouth.

in a matter of seconds, abby had pulled away — both her tongue and fingers. just as you were about to reach the peak, you’d tumble down with your high dropping in seconds.

“wh.. why’d you stop?” you breathed out, tears that rimmed your eyes beginning to dissipate.

as if abby could read your thoughts, she placed a leg over yours, dragging your helpless body closer to her. your cunts were mere centimetres apart, the slick that built up from your pleasure mixing with hers.

“wanted to rile you up..” she muttered, her beautifully eager smile spreading from ear to ear as she strategically began kneading her pussy against yours. abby let out a stifled whimper, her perfectly toned arms pulling your leg almost over her shoulder.

you whined as she slowly dragged her pussy back and forth. the only thing ruminating through your mind in the moment was how you wished you’d done this sooner. way sooner. if given the opportunity any earlier, you’d have jumped at it like an animal in heat.

tears generously coated your plump cheeks as abby picked up the pace, she muttered curses under her breath with each drag of her swollen cunt. it was evident she was close, her arms would needily latch onto yours in an attempt to pull you closer than you already were.

the sounds of timid whines and skin slapping echoed through the room. you hoped that nobody would mention a peculiar series of moans to you or abby the next day. but all you could focus on was her slick engulfed thighs, her chest and the hickeys that’d covered her tits. her neck that was equally as bruised, and her face that contorted into a smile once she noticed you were staring.

“this feel good?” she asks, a sudden grunt spilling from her lips a second after.

all you could do was nod. you were afraid once you spoke, you wouldn’t be able to stop. abby, abby, abby, abby, was all you could think of. how strong she was and how easily she could throw you around if she wanted to, how easily you could tug on her braid while she fucked you dumb. it drove you insane how she wanted you and nobody else. she fucked herself to the thought of you and nobody else.

she disapprovingly shook her head, slapping your thigh playfully.

“mm mm, i don’t take nods, use that pretty mouth,” abby grinned, her cunt grinding viciously fast against your own. you whined dumbly, the pleasure overpowering your body. you felt numbing tingles along each cell of your body.

you whined shamelessly loud, “it feels.. so good.” abby’s face enlightened, her hips picking up pace from your undying cooperation. anything for her to keep going.

she squeezed a handful of your thigh and massaged it, letting out her pent up urges that she was only able to let out now.

you dumbly mumbled a bunch of nonsense yes’, keep going’s and abby’s, initially climbing the tower of climax yet again. and abby was, too. as much as she tried to hide it, nothing could excuse how her hips would dig into your abdomen from how quick she practically humped your cunt.

abby held your thighs close to her, gaining the upper hand in creating more friction. her clit would bump against yours almost ever second. both your whines enveloped the air around you as the coil inside you snapped, your pleasure releasing out into a white pool underneath you.

but abby was far from finished.

she pulled your hips closer, with pussies rubbing against each other and whines echoing through the walls. you wouldn’t doubt for a second that someone could hear you.

with more than a couple grunts and calls for your name, abby came down from her own high, her hips faulting and slowly grudging to a stop.

you both panted relentlessly. you swore if she kept going you would’ve came a second time at the snap of a finger.

trying to regain your breaths, abby lets out a chuckle.

she doesn’t say anything, but she shakily pulls herself off of you, propping herself up by her elbow next to you.

a sudden wave of embarrassment washed over you as the reality of both your actions settled in. there was no hiding your attraction to one another now, none of this would’ve happened otherwise.

the never ending pining, hanging out one on one every chance you got and saying it was ‘just to train you’. you don’t know why you were surprised at the fact that abby would think about these things behind closed, or more so unlocked doors.

“..so?” abby’s voice was soft and meek, her hand fidgeting alongside her waist as her head rested on her other hand.

you hesitantly locked eyes with her, your previous shyness fading away as she planted a kiss to your forehead. something as cheesy and cute as a forehead kiss was enough to make you blush, subsiding all the things you both just did.

“..that was better than i expected.” you finally replied. abby’s eyebrow quirked, head tilting to the side.

“oh, so you thought it’d be bad?” she kids in a sly tone, that familiar smile returning once more.

you playfully punched her arm in response, the both of you knowing in reality, it felt like heaven on earth.

“does it look like it was bad?” you poke back, pointing to all the hickeys and bite marks along both your bodies.

only now did you realise how much of a mess you made. there was cum all over the bedsheets, saliva all over your cunts and what not — this place was really overdue for a cleanup.

you chuckle as you examine the aftermath.

“we should clean up..”

“we?” abby questions.

“i don’t mind, i made it too, no?”

abby couldn’t argue with that. she sighs, pulling you up and off the bed so you could both clean up. not without peppering your body with kisses first.

[sebscore]

if you feel comfortable doing so, how do you think the grid would react if gzd was going through a rough patch and she’s being like really quiet and in her head?

i’m kinda slipping back into this era and i just need the grids comfort

THIS IS ALL I NEVER WANTED

pairing: lando norris x driver!reader / daniel ricciardo x driver!reader / sebastian vettel x driver!reader / lewis hamilton x sebastian vettel

warnings: reader feels defeated and is ready to give up. swearing. mention of sexism.

author’s note: the comfort fic is finally hear, lmao :) sorry that it took me this long, got caught up with gentle hit, but it’s here now !!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''That's the car of Y/L that goes into the gravel- another DNF for the young driver.'' Crofty commented as he watched her retire from the fight for the third consecutive race. 

Meanwhile in the car, Y/N's radio was bombarded by her engineer. ''We're so sorry, Y/N. A podium was possible, but we'll keep pushing harder for next time. We'll debrief.'' Marco apologised, frustration and guilt audible in his voice. 

''Understood.'' The indifferent tone came as a surprise to the team and viewers, but it was understandable as the driver hadn't been able to finish a race in over a month. 

The ride back to the paddock was humiliating to say the least. The pitiful looks from fans, the judging eyes of critics and the loud whispers didn't do much to brighten the dark cloud that was her mind. 

Her post-race interviews also weren't a great help to her already declining confidence. 

''It's the third consecutive DNF for you- how are you managing to stay positive and to not lose hope in the car?'' Nathalie asked her, sounding compassionate. 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. ''Nothing is positive at all,'' she sarcastically chuckled, ''I think I'm doing everything right and then it all goes wrong for some reason.'' 

''I'm working hard with the team, but it doesn't seem like it's paying off at the moment. I'm just very disappointed and I- yeah, well, I hate the car.'' 

The reporter in front of her wasn't used to the visible pessimism of the female driver. Y/N was known for her cheerful and up-beat character, always open for a chat and ready to take on any challenge. That figure seemed to be missing at the moment. 

''I hope it gets better for you, Y/N. You're an amazing driver and I wish you good luck for the next race weekend, thank you so much for talking to us.'' Nathalie rounds up the interview before signalling to her cameraman to stop the filming. 

Y/N was about to leave, but a gentle grab of her wrist stopped her. ''Hey, darling- don't let this get you down, alright? There are many people rooting for you here, me included, and we all want to see you do well. You have incredible talent and we know these lasts results aren't a reflection of that.'' 

The Sky Sports presenter had a soft spot for the young woman ever since her arrival to the paddock. Nathalie has always been amazed by Y/N's ability to shrug off all the sexist remarks and to prove the people that doubt her wrong. 

''Thanks, I appreciate it.'' The soft smile on Y/N's face was a fake one, even a child could spot that. However, her words and gratefulness were genuine and that's all that mattered to Nathalie. 

The driver moved quickly between the different journalists, not in the mood for the long and lovely chats that would have happened had she crossed the chequered flag. ''If one more person reminds me of all the DNF's, I'm going to knock myself out with one of these microphones.'' She mumbled to her team's press officer, making the woman laugh but also look at Y/N with a bit of concern. 

Luckily for her, all the media responsible people must have listened to her prayers and went easy on her- maybe sensing her agitation and worsened mood. She and her press officer moved back to the team's hospitality, where a dreaded team briefing would take place. 

''Obviously these aren't the results that we want. We want wins, podiums and points.'' Her team principal started off the meeting, standing at the head of the table. ''It is clear that changes need to be made, whether that be the car, the strategy or the driver even.'' The eyes of the team shifted from their leader to the young woman staring daggers at him. 

''It's not my fault that the fucking engine blows up or that another drivers decides he wants to play bumper cars.'' Y/N defended herself, not seeing why she should be replaced. 

He shook his head. ''I didn't say it was your fault, but we have to look at all the options and that includes you, Y/N.'' The man clarified, taking a deep breath. 

The woman rolled her eyes, causing Marco to send her a stern look that said ''Please, don't make this harder on yourself.'' She got his sign and sat up straight in her chair, figuring her slumping didn't give off a great impression. 

The briefing continued for another hour, going over all the alternatives they had and all the work they had to do while waiting for the next race weekend. ''Alright- thank you, everyone! Have a great break.'' The team principal dismissed the team. 

Y/N was the first one to get up and leave, debating if she would slam the door, but she didn't want a Kevin x Guenther moment with her boss. 

By the time she was on her way to her hotel, most fans had gone home themselves and the paddock was occupied by crew members cleaning the place up. Y/N had a slow pace while walking, not in any hurry to leave the circuit. 

''You're going back to the hotel?'' A voice behind her spoke up, making the female driver yelp as she didn't expect someone to walk up on her. 

Y/N turned around, Lando looking at her with a grin. ''Did I scare you?'' He laughed, finding amusement in making his friend flinch. 

''You could have been a serial killer for all I know, you idiot.'' She slapped his arm, the tension leaving her body as it was only Lando and not some creep. 

''Only on track.'' He winked. 

The young woman frowned at his action. ''Please, never do that again.'' Her feigned disgust with his wink resulted in a light push from her friend. 

''So… you're going to the hotel now?'' Lando asked her again, not having received an answer yet. 

Y/N nodded. ''Yeah, I could use some sleep before the flight tomorrow.'' 

''You, uh, wanna take a car together to the hotel? You know- that way we're not wasting gas, I guess.'' He nervously asked, mumbling the question almost under his breath. 

''Sure,'' Y/N chuckled, ''Seb will be proud of us.'' 

They decided to take his car as she wasn't in the mood to drive anymore and Lando didn't seem to mind. She was grateful for Lando's company, at least her bad day would end on a good note. 

''Sorry about the race today, I know you could have done more.'' Despite being competitors, they were also great friends and it's not fun seeing your friends have bad results. 

Y/N sighed. ''My team- they're, uh, thinking about replacing me.'' She wanted to get her worries off of her chest and Lando bringing up the race seemed like the perfect oppurtunity for it. 

''What?'' He exclaimed, not anticipating that sentence to come out of her mouth. 

''They say they just have to think about all the changes they could make to get better results, but they've been talking an awful lot about the junior drivers so I'm just preparing myself for it.'' She clarified for him, resting her head against the window. 

Lando let her words sink in. ''They- they can't possibly do that, you're one of the best drivers on the grid.'' It came out louder than he intended, but the thought of one of his best friends not being with him on track anymore upsets him. 

''They can do that,'' she sarcastically chuckled, ''I'm impressed I lasted this long- I just know the FIA will be throwing a party now that they don't have to be feminists anymore.'' 

''What do you mean 'lasted'? You're not going anywhere, we have enough races left where you can show your true skills.'' Lando took his eyes off the road to look her in the eye, perhaps wanting her to see how serious he was. 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, not wanting to talk about it any further. 

The car stopped in front of a red light. ''Hey,'' Lando put his hand on top of hers, ''I'm being serious. We've been racing against each other for over 10 years now- you're a good driver. You'll probably be a World Champion one day.'' 

''You really mean that?'' Her usual confident demeanour had been traded in for an insecure one, her voice coming out smaller than normal. 

He chuckled, nodding his head. ''Of course, I wouldn't lie to you.'' The gentle way he was looking at her assured her that he was in fact being serious and meant everything he said. 

''Thank you,'' Y/N turned her hand and squeezed Lando's, ''now, shut up and drive me to the hotel!'' She pushed his hand away. ''Enough of this emo shit.'' 

''This is the one time I am being nice to you and you just reject my love.'' 

''Stop being so emotional, Norris.'' 

''There she is!'' Daniel loudly announced as Y/N stepped onto the plane, his hands up in the air. 

She tiredly waved at everyone, exhausted from the lack of sleep she had gotten. The young woman groggily sat down next to her Australian colleague, Michael sitting in front of them. 

Daniel snickered at her disoriented state. ''Good morning to you, mate.'' He greeted her, his infamous bright smile on his face. 

''It's fucking early, what are you so happy about?'' She mumbled, while trying to find a good sleeping position. 

''I'm grateful that I get to live another beautiful day, Y/N! We don't appreciate our existence enough, we need to-''

''I'll be grateful for my life when you shut up and let me sleep.'' She interrupted him, closing her eyes and pulling her hat slightly over her face. 

The McLaren driver opted for another teasing comment, but he could see the obvious exhaustion she had going on and let her be, a light pat on the shoulder working as his way to say ''have a good nap''. 

About an hour later the turbulence of the plane woke her up from her much needed sleep. Y/N took her hat off and noticed Daniel still awake, scrolling on his phone while listening to music through his headphones. 

A soft push against his arm brought his attention from his device to the woman next to him, immediately smiling upon seeing that she's awake. ''Sleepyhead.'' 

The beam on his face slowly changed into a nervous frown, worrying his friend. ''What is it? The reality of life finally settled in?'' Y/N awkwardly said, trying to cheer him up. 

''No, uh, it's just that uhm interview you did with Nathalie yesterday- I watched it.'' He answered, sympathy written all over his face. 

''Oh,'' she sat up straight in her seat, ''well, you know it was just after the race so obviously I was very frustrated. You know how it is.'' The driver tried to come off as nonchalant, failing horribly. 

''Lando told me, Y/N.'' Daniel revealed, wanting her to drop the 'it's not a big deal'-act. 

She sighed. ''Oh, that little snake.'' She muttered under her breath. 

''No, I'm glad that he told me. He said he's never seen you so defeated and the way you were talking to Nathalie- you haven't given up, have you?'' Daniel had seen how her recent race results had affected her, but he wasn't aware how deep her frustrations and insecurities had settled in. 

Her silence to his question was an answer in itself. 

''You've been working your ass off since you were like what? 5-6? You're not gonna throw all of that away just because of 3 bad races, right? That's nothing like you.'' The Australian ranted, baffled over her ruined confidence. 

Y/N glanced outside her window, seeing they were high above the clouds. ''I'm not throwing anything away, it's just… my teams seems to have already made up their mind and are just waiting on the right time to tell me that someone else is taking my place.'' The young woman clarified, her words not helping Daniel's growing worries. 

''They would be fucking idiots to replace you, you know that.'' He sneered, rolling his eyes at the thought of another person driving in her seat. 

She weakly chuckled at his response, not finding much humour in the insult to her bosses. 

Daniel's shoulder gently pushed against hers. ''Hey, maybe you need to talk to Seb or Lewis, they're better at this pep-talk shit than I am.'' He suggested, figuring the two older men might have more of an influence on her. 

Y/N let his words process for a few seconds, considering seeking a listening ear in either of the world champions. ''I- I don't know, Dan. They probably have better things to do.'' 

''Like what?'' 

''I don't fucking know- planting trees, feeding Roscoe, whatever.'' She blurted out, making both of them laugh at the random activities they could be doing. 

''Just think about it, I think you'd feel a lot better after talking to one of them.'' Daniel didn't want to push her, knowing it would have the opposite effect on what he wanted for her. 

A tired smile made its way onto her face. ''I will, thank you.'' 

''Good,'' his face mirrored hers, ''and if they do replace you, they're just like Netflix.'' 

''Like Netflix?'' 

''A bunch of cunts.'' 

''I've never seen her that quiet.'' Sebastian mumbled to the Brit next to him, observing the young woman who sat slumped over in her chair. 

Lewis looked over at her, being as equally bewildered as his German colleague. ''I don't blame her, all the stuff they've been saying about her is awful.'' He whispered back. 

''What do you mean?'' Sebastian frowned. 

The Mercedes driver uncomfortably shifted in his head, leaning more towards his friend. ''People have been saying a lot of shit on social media and those fucking annoying journalists certainly don't help. Also, that interview their team principal did.'' 

Sebastian rolled his eyes at the mention. ''Hanna showed me, that was so out of line. He knows people have been wanting her out since the day she got in- shame on him for making all of that so public.'' 

Her team principal had given a quite lengthy interview over the break between the race weekends, publicising the team's problems and their possible solutions, which included a hint to a potential driver change-up. 

''None of the DNF's were even her fault, it's absolutely ridiculous.'' The slander on her name greatly upset Lewis, aware of the talent she possessed and it made him angry that there was even a chance that she might not be on the grid with them the next year. 

''I know and it has taken such a toll on her, Daniel said he talked to her, but I'm a little worried.'' The Aston Martin driver told Lewis, his puzzled look turning into one of sadness. 

The Brit scratched his voice. ''Maybe you can give her some confidence? You've known her for a long time, I'm sure she'll appreciate it.'' 

Sebastian slowly nodded his head, figuring the World Champion might be right. ''Yeah, I'll talk to her later.'' He confirmed, still watching the obvious daydreaming woman from across the room. 

The driver's briefing went on for about half an hour more, the director seeing the visible boredom on every person's face and calling it a day for everyone. 

Y/N couldn't have been more relieved that the meeting was finally over, wanting nothing more than going back to her own hospitality and figuring out ways to make the car work, and actually finish this time around. 

She was one of the last people to leave the briefing room, only George, Lewis and Sebastian walking behind her. The latter tapping her shoulder. ''Hey, haven't talked to you today.'' 

''Yeah, lots of briefings with the team, you know.'' The younger one responded, giving him a quick glance. 

''How's that going?'' 

The woman remained silent for a few moments, considering how much she should tell her mentor about the current state of her place in the team. ''Uhm, well, it's going… decent, I guess.'' Y/N muttered, trailing off. 

''Decent?'' Sebastian repeated, as if asking ''are you serious?'' 

''There are like a bunch of reporters around us, what do you want me to say?'' She replied, a defensive tone to her voice. 

The German patted her back, sensing her agitation. ''It's okay, let's discuss somewhere private.'' He calmed her down, suggesting a different place to have a conversation. 

''Okay.'' 

They opted for her personal driver's home, that being the closest space where they could talk with just the two of them. Some of her team's staff had given the Aston Martin driver some weird looks while they walked through the hospitality, but he brushed them off. 

The pair sat down on her small couch once they arrived, not much space between them. 

Y/N felt some nerves settling in her stomach as she waited for Seb to start speaking, not knowing what he was going to tell her. 

''I'm just gonna be straightforward,'' he started off, ''you can't continue with this attitude, cause you're only setting yourself up. You are a great driver, Y/N. We all have our off weeks, we're not perfect.'' 

''I understand that this isn't a nice situation to be in. Trust me, this green vegetable that I'm driving isn't doing much better at the moment,'' he chuckled, making her crack a smile, ''but if there's one person that can completely turn their season around, it's you.'' 

Y/N avoided eye-contact with him, not sure how to respond to his kind and encouraging words. ''I appreciate that, Seb. I'm not giving up, it's just… very difficult and people are constantly bringing it up, and making articles and shit- that doesn't help me at all. I'm still gonna do my best, but… yeah- it's just difficult.'' 

''I know it's hard and I've heard the media has been hard on you. That's what they do and they see you as an easier target for clicks and whatnot,'' Sebastian rolled his eyes at his own mention of the media, ''But you're better than believing their words.'' 

''You are a talented driver, you have so much potential. Do you think I would have spent all these years with you if I thought you shouldn't be in F1?'' He asked her, a look on his face that told her he wanted an answer. 

The young woman timidly shook her head. ''No, you wouldn't have done that.'' 

Sebastian smiled at her response. ''See?'' He put his arm around her, pulling her closer into him. ''Whether you believe it or not, you're leading this new generation. You're a decent car away from being a World Champion, you know that right?'' 

''Did you talk to Lando? He also said that.'' Y/N nervously grinned. 

''Just accept the truth!'' The German squeezed her shoulders. ''You've proven that you can do anything. You don't want to let down all those young girls that started karting because of you, right? What message would it send to all of them that their role model quit, because she got bumped off the road or her car simply decided to turn itself off.'' 

''You're right,'' she sighed, admitting to herself she needed to drop the pessimistic attitude, ''I don't just owe it to myself, but also to them.'' 

Sebastian nodded along to her words, letting out a deep breath. ''I'm relieved you're seeing it, I don't like seeing you like this. It's weird not seeing you smile or making fun of the drivers.'' He smirked, patting her shoulder. 

''I guess everyone deserved an off-day, tomorrow I'll start again.'' Y/N grinned, laughing at Sebastian's reminder of her fondness to poke fun at their colleagues. 

The senior driver gave her one last squeeze and stood up from the couch, adjusting his pants. ''No more frowns, alright? You're gonna do great this weekend and you're gonna show everyone why you deserve your seat.'' 

Y/N nodded, more confident than when she first walked back into her driver's room. ''Yes, I'm gonna do my best, Seb.'' 

They bumped their fists as if to solidify it was going to be a great race weekend for them both. 

''And go easy on me tomorrow with the teasing.'' 

''I'd rather be run off the track again then let that happen.''

taglist :: @cl16version @missskid @missthem @rosesintj @evans-dejong @thehistoryone @dreamycloudsworld @alonsogirlie @muushmeg @topguncultleader @the-great-adventures-of-me @love13tter @xcharlottemikaelsonx @kiwisa @starkwlkr @nora_moon @princesselle2111 @valluvsu @thatsadsmallchild @babyyoda89 @milkbreadforlife @fxllfaiiry @hc-dutch @its-ash-not-grey @princessbetsy123 @mehrmonga @nyenye @screechingtrashkid @ahnneyong @holybatflapexpert @itsnotgray @beautycinders @rowansshit @uhhevie @revengze @nylaslife @majx00 @multi-universe21 @jaydensluv @isasalom @gentlemonsterjennie1 @appledashhh @breathinfive @lighttsoutlewis @champomiel @ooooohmicky @koufaxx @flannelforthetoads

@mysticfalls01 @ghostcorazon @mango-bear @totally-random-person @youkissedareaderinthedark @phoenix-luv @hamilton-mount @calcaneous @aurora-maria @idkiwantchocolatee @anonymous-platypus1

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

what are your thoughts on the ministrife situation? imo literally the worst fate for eridan to be damned to tbh

i think he will eventually (after <5 minutes) just shoot cronus and leave. (CW for mentions of abuse and cronus's romantic grossness and stuff under the cut).

Ignoring the extremely creepy and gross fact that Hussie doesn't seem to have a problem with the age gap (it's There, we've acknowledged that it's creepy and weird, i personally think it highlights how immature the dancestors are despite their physical age, and it actually serves to hint at how trash they are, but it's still really uncomfortable in the moment and never gets properly called out. In any case we've talked about it critically, we can move on and talk about characterization now), he and cronus are actually kind of polar opposites. Given that Cronus, along with many of the dancestors, are riffing on what the fandom interpretation of their Alternian counterparts are, it's kind of a fascinating look at all the things Eridan ISN'T.

The fandom (especially at the time) had flattened Eridan down to "overdramatic Nice Guy hipster who won't stop hitting on people," with varying degrees of sympathy. In other words, they took all of Eridan's outward presentation - the narration calling his genuine anxiety and distress "overblown emotional theatrics," the fact that his being rejected was a running gag - entirely at face value, while also missing what sort of archetype he was actually supposed to represent.

At no point does Eridan ever actually mention a hipster interest, like vintage clothes or indie media. It's all entirely in his design and Karkat calling him a hipster (it's not even in his character introduction), so presumably, it IS a part of his character (Karkat knows him really well), but it's probably a part he keeps to himself, like his love of wizards.

Moreover, he isn't really a Nice Guy. The closest he gets is thinking Nepeta owes him a chance for saving her life, but as far as we can tell, he only ever asked her once, got rejected, accepted that rejection, and has never taken out that rejection on her. When he complains about it, he frames it as a bitter "I guess what I did wasn't enough," not "she's an unreasonable witch withholding romance from me even though I'm so nice to her." All other romance attempts are crimes of... just being way too forward.

He bursts into Kanaya's DMs demanding she auspicetisize with Vriska because... that's what she likes to do, right? The same happens to Terezi in [S] Karkat: Wake Up. He comes on strong in Rose's DMs and after getting a little annoyance back, goes "wow, we kinda have something," and does not realize her blowing up his computer is a rejection because she didn't explicitly tell him no and he's a dumbass. And even though he's nasty at Sollux because emotionally, he's still bitter about Sollux "stealing" Feferi from him, at least CONSCIOUSLY he's recognized the rejection on both fronts and has repeatedly told Feferi that he has no more interest in getting back together with her, in spite of her recognizing that he's emotionally not over her. And speaking of Feferi, his confession to her is entirely genuine and respectful toward her feelings. At no point does he indicate that he feels like she owes him a date.

These aren't Nice Guy actions, they're "I have 0 social skills or self-awareness" actions. And also a little bit "due to my trauma and anxiety and desensitization to murder, I struggle to care about other people" actions. He's not even actually casteist or genocidal - I spent an entire essay arguing that.

But regardless, that's what the fandom ran with, in large part because they didn't bother reading between the lines. Ironically, like Eridan, they just believed what he told them. I don't even necessarily blame the fandom - at least part of this obfuscation was intentional, and a clever trick on the part of the writing. By highlighting Eridan at his worst, and having the narration be complicit in his self-delusion and mockery, the story is able to put the audience in the same mindset as his in-universe bullies - Eridan is dumb weirdo whose emotional problems are worthy of ridicule, not sympathy. Let's all point and laugh!

This sets up his meltdown to be more of a twist - even though his literal introduction is him killing something and talking about genocide, the very real danger he poses is forgotten both by the audience and the other characters because they've gotten so used to dismissing his feelings that they ignore his cries for help and the warning signals he gives off. And it makes his character more relevant and meaningful, because this happens in real life all the time - I'm sure we either all either knew, or were, the friendless weirdo at school who, upon reflection, definitely had either some bad shit going on at home or severe and untreated mental illness (or both).

The reason I'm bringing up this fandom misinterpretation is because, like a couple other dancestors, Cronus is very much a riff on the fanon version of his Alternian counterpart. Unlike Eridan, who's not actually casteist, but desperately trying to act the part, Cronus IS a casteist sea dweller who thinks he's better than lowbloods and land dwellers. Unlike Eridan, who seeks emotional connections with others, and accepts rejections, Cronus is only looking for some action, and keeps trying even well after he knows he's been rejected. Unlike Eridan, who's so consumed by anxiety and trauma that he's pretty much unable to function properly, Cronus DOES exaggerate his problems and explicitly leverage them for attention and sympathy. And unlike Eridan, who feels crushed under the weight of duty and responsibility, and tends to blame himself when things go wrong, Cronus refuses to take responsibility for anything, immediately blaming anybody BUT himself.

They're practically exact opposites, and this is, again, a clever trick on the part of the writing. It's an excellent usage of a foil: though superficially similar, the differences between these two really serves to highlight just how much Eridan is NOT the things that Cronus IS.

And it's especially interesting given that Eridan spent his entire life trying to emulate Dualscar, to the point of modeling his outfit after the guy. To him, it was not only his duty, but his inevitable fate, to wind up as Dualscar's successor. And when he finally meets the guy in person, his opinion is "even I think you're trash."

If that isn't a form of rejecting the values his society has told him repeatedly that he has to uphold, maybe in the service of perhaps setting up some sort of redemption arc or something, I don't know what is.

I've seen people point to this moment as kind of a hee haw funny one-off joke, look at how little Hussie cares about Eridan, but that's not what it is to me. You don't really need to say anything more about their relationship to each other. Eridan thinks Cronus (and by extension, everything Cronus stands for - and everything Eridan has tried to be) is garbage, but is lonely and friendless and desperate enough that he feels pushed into accepting it anyway. It's extremely consistent with his characterization and character arc.

So uh, yeah. Join me next time for more deep dives on how this funny innocuous thing in Homestuck actually Means Something.

[glassesfreekjr]

Can we analyse Tulin for a bit?

Apart from being the keet birb boy, perhaps what makes his character so enthralling is how it so brilliantly reflects and offers commentary on the influences that have shaped him.

Whether that be Revali, his father Teba, and ESPECIALLY Link. Hell, it's no wonder that Link & Tulin have garnered such a sibling dynamic. Tulin essentially IS Link, from a time before the burden of responsibility and pain caused Link to cave in on himself pre-Breath of the Wild.

Right down to the veteran warrior father figure (Link's father was captain of the guard) and their acceptance of a newfound legacy out of forthright integrity. Tulin, at this point in his life, has yet to give himself away until there's nothing of him left to give, and let's pray he never needs to.

But Tulin would do that in a heartbeat, if called upon. He is very much his father's son.

You can see it in how archtypical childish spunk is tempered, like steel, by Teba's down-to-earth bluntness and sheer work ethic.

(BTW I wonder if Link sees his own father in Teba? That'd check out.)

But what caught me most pleasantly off-guard is Tulin's skepticism, which has become one of his most compelling traits for me. It's not something you would expect.

He did not believe that the Stormwind Ark existed, and while ultimately proven wrong, it frankly wasn't an illogical assumption to make. Tulin clearly thought through that opinion. He'd also grown frustrated that the Rito placed their faith on a songbook miracle — a eucatastrophe, if you will — instead of something more concrete like personal skill or, say, Link's whole-ass existence.

The second Link arrived and offered his aid, Tulin accepted his help without hesitation. He turned his skepticism inward to reevaluate his own tenets. And it's as a duo that they brought about said eucatastrophe through no one's strength but their own. They are siblings, Your Honor. Aryll 2.0

(If Revali had been blessed with a support network saying "it's okay to accept help. no man is an island," doubtless he still would have perished in Vah Medoh. But there would be less of an ego to shatter. He would have faced death with less blind panic and more dignity. And most importantly, he'd have other people to bolster the wind beneath his wings during his short life. (At the very least, Revali would not have as big an ass not be as big an ass, just as Tulin would be a different person without his family.)

dammit quaquaval you have RUINED me

Also, one thing that everyone seems to miss is just how deceptively intelligent Tulin turns out to be. This kid fuckin' knows his stuff. His mastery of aerodynamics beyond the instinctual is almost on par with Revali at such a young age. And how many precision headshots has his avatar saved your ass with, don't lie.

He somehow managed to follow his father back through time. Tulin can see Koroks.

It's not the same kind of passion-fuelled intellect as, say, Zelda has. More of an unyeilding conviction to learn all he can and put it into practice. About as understated a quality as Yunobo's inexplicable business acumen and economic sense.

As his mother Saki put it, for Tulin to develop as an individual, he needs to experience more of reality and its hardships. Shooting bullseyes and improving one's flying prowess / wind magic can't contend with genuine combat. True to her word, Tulin had to experience mistakes firsthand, and critically examine his own naïve ways of thinking in order to take those necessary steps.

...

So then, uh, is it wrong for me to wish something horrible upon him, if only to witness the positive character growth that springs from it? Tulin isn't the sort who'll shatter under pressure, like Revali did at the end of his life, or like Link did under the weight of expectation. Buckle, yes — but not break. Tulin's steadfast conviction, inherited from his father and guided by the people he loves, would assuredly see him through.

In any event, his Hero's Journey isn't close to over. I'd be curious to see Tulin at its conclusion.

tl;dr I wanna Emesis Blue his bitch-ass, AITA?

[im-ovulating]

Hello!! I'm fairly new to the twilight fandom and your blog is one of the bests i've ever seen so far! So, if you're comfortable/not buzy, could you please do the volturi kings (separated or poly, both are fine!!) reacting to the reader being a goth, i imagined since they're ancient beings, the goths that invaded the Roman Empire would be the first thing coming to mind lol

Once again, your blog is definitely a favorite now, so i might just give myself a name for future requests, i think 🦇 would be fine if no one's using it :)

Have a good morning, afternoon or/and evening!

-🦇

(A/n: Stawppppp you're makin me blushhh🙈 I definitely recommend @kiiwiigii (her kinktober is 🥵 and her fluff fics will literally rot your teeth) and (she doesn't write often, but she has an AMAZING NSFW mini series called Uses of a Secretarial Desk👀:) @alecvolturi)

(A/n: I went with headcanons. I hope that's okay with you!)

(A/n: Also- It's a bit difficult for me to write the kings since I personally don't vibe w/ em, so I hope you like it😭😅)

Word Count: -

Summary: Request above

Warnings: None

Age Rating: None

Volturi Kings x Gothic! GN! Reader

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

General:

Firstly, the Volturi are known art lovers so while the Visigoth sacking Rome might be what the word is acquitted to off the top of their heads, they would probably attune it moreso to the gothic art style of the mid 12th - 16th centuries

This being said, gothic makeup is VASTLY different from the painted arches and quatrelobes of the art period

You'll definitely have some explaining to do

You'll have to excuse them. They're not invested in human fads and expressionistic styles

Now on to the individual reactions/thoughts:

Aro:

He definitely finds your style interesting

Not in a judgmental aunt "interesting...😒" but an intrigued interest

He likes to watch you do your makeup, letting out the occasional amused "hm" when you do something unconventional with your look (grey contour, painting your neck black, extreme eyeliner, thin angled brows, etc.)

As for the music?

Doesn't really get it but at the same time does? Idk how to explain my thought process

He basically vibes with the lyrics and meaning but sometimes the instrumentals are hit or miss

He really enjoys the instrumentals that are more spooky/calm to the ones that go harder

Overall, if you're happy, who's he to say anything?

Caius:

Do you want fanon or accurate?😅

Fanon:

He might give you a strange look or cock an eyebrow when you go all out with your look but he silently appreciates how much effort it takes to perfect it

If he doesn't like the song playing, he'll either grab your phone and skip it or just leave the room

Canon:

This man is throwing shade left, right, and center lol

It /is/ all in good fun though

He's a bitch, you knew that from your first meeting

"Are you sure that's how you want to go out today?"

"Interesting attire, dear... *side eye*"

He doesnt hate it, don't get him wrong

He just finds it... odd

Out of all the kings, he's probably the most art geek of them all and is stuck on the name of your style

"Goth? That is not gothic, pet... *cue middle ages art speech*"

Openly criticizes the music

Either bans it from being played around him or loudly complains about it

Marcus:

Is the most vocal about your appearance

Constantly praising how you look that day

He got a second chance at his life partner. He's gonna be damned if he doesn't appreciate everything about you even down to the barely-different-who-is-he-kidding-they're-the-same-as-the-ones-you-already-own shoes that you just bought and are excited about

It's not even him lying either

He GENUINELY loves your look, simoyl for the fact that 1) he has seen you get ready... that takes skill and 2) you clearly enjoy the style and seeing you confident and secure in yourself is enough for him

He can take or leave the music, but he will keep that to himself until he dies (get it? Bc he's immortal?)

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 2

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 2.8K

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

I had a real rough time figuring out the proper voice for Pedro's dialogue and I hope I did him justice. Either way, the support I received for part 1 is astounding and completely unexpected! Thank you all for reading and let me know what you think :) I plan to continue until the story wraps up, but I don't know how many parts that will be. I hope to post every couple days, but with my work schedule it may be less speedy. Here we go!

You walk in the door, unclipping Skip's leash, slipping off your shoes, and dropping your keys on the countertop before flopping onto the couch and unlocking your phone. No. Fucking. Way. 

Pedro Pascal (pascalispunk) replied to your message. 

You dissected each letter of the username, assuming it couldn't possibly be THE Pedro Pascal… but it was. It really, really was. You clicked the message, holding your breath.

Pedro Pascal replied to you: "Hey, you don't need to thank me. I didn't say anything that wasn't true. That guy was out of line. You deserve happiness and I'm sorry for the harsh words you've been hearing. I appreciate you sharing your vulnerability with the world and hope that you will continue to be your genuine self and ignore the comments trying to make you be someone else. Don't listen to those people."

You stared in disbelief at his words, once again wondering why he would ever be so kind to someone he doesn't even know. Someone so childish and stupid to write a song about a man she doesn't know. I can't imagine he'd think these things if he knew it was about him…

You: "Thank you Mr. Pascal. I'm a big fan of yours and hearing that you're in my corner has me completely at a loss. I can't imagine why you would risk damaging your image by defending a girl…" No… don't say girl, it makes you sound like a child. You want this guy to like you! You backspace with a slight feeling of ridiculousness over the whole scenario. Ugh it's all wrong… calm down... calm down… it's just a conversation. He doesn't know you. He doesn't like you. Don't make it weird like you always do.

You try again.

You: "Thank you Mr. Pascal. I really admire your work and for you to say such kind things to me… to think that you're in my corner, has me completely at a loss for words. I don't know what I did to deserve this treatment when you don't even know me, especially when coming to my defense could potentially harm your image… but thank you."

He read it almost immediately. Your heart was beating out of your chest and you felt like you could throw up from the anxiety and adrenaline. After a few seconds, those stress-inducing dot-dot-dots appeared to show you he was typing.

He's actually replying to me?? Again? Doesn't he have better things to do? 

Your mind wandered to what he might be doing while he's messaging you. Sitting at his home, relaxing, taking the time to reply to you? Why? Maybe he's on a plane or waiting for something and killing time. Maybe he's- *ping*

Pedro Pascal replied to your message:

"Please, you can call me Pedro.. and as far as defending you, it doesn't matter to me that we don't know each other personally. You seem like a woman with a good heart, and all you did was share your true self. Nobody deserves to be talked poorly about for something harmless that they feel. If something like that hurts my image… then my true self wasn't being represented. I think we all just want to be seen, and I hope that you will feel comfortable to be yourself and show yourself more."

You don't know when you started crying, but you hiccupped with the overwhelming wave of emotions. He sees me.. you had just scrolled to the bottom of the long reply, when you noticed the "..." of typing again. He has more to say?!

Pedro Pascal: "As far as the subject of your song.. whether you choose to reveal that to him, or the world, you deserve love and respect. Being vulnerable and putting yourself out there is a terrifying thing to do, and I myself tend to close myself off from relationships to avoid that potential for getting hurt. But if that's what you want, you've already taken a big step and you should go for it. I hope that whoever he is gives you the respect and love you deserve."

Holy crap…

He doesn't… he doesn't know it's him right?? No. There's no way. He's just being nice… he's too nice. He's too genuine..??

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, doing a little dance in the air, pondering what to say. How much can I share with this man? Between this crush and his kind words, it's feeling tricky to hold back from spilling too much information.

You: "Thank you Pedro. You're too kind and I can't properly explain how much I really appreciate it. I'm having trouble coming to terms with all the sudden attention, and finding it hard to ground myself. But your words are helping me a lot. I - "

You hesitated over your next words, wondering if you should open up or just leave it. Don't be weird… don't scare him away like you always have with everyone else. As much as you think of disclosing your hesitation and lack of experience with relationships, as well as your reasons for trepidation, you decide to spare him of your self-hatred. Instead, you delete that last letter and hit send. 

Then you send another message, like he did. "And as far as the guy… I know I don't know him personally, we've never met, but I can already tell he would treat me right. I just hope maybe someday he will love me back."

Immediately after sending it you regretted it. That felt way too open and vulnerable. What are you thinking!?! Shit… what if he sees through you!?

You hold your finger down on the message, ready to hit unsend before he sees it. But it's too late. He's already replying.

Pedro: "He would be stupid not to love you back."

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

You: "Thank you, Pedro. 🥺" Play it cool… Play it cool…

Pedro: "Of course, sweetheart. Feel free to message me if anyone else gives you trouble or you just want to chat. I enjoyed talking with you."

???!!!!!?????!!!!! SweetheartSweetheartSweetheart

You grabbed your nearest pillow and screamed into it. "SKIPPPPPEERRRRRRR!!!!!! I JUST HAD A CONVERSATION WITH PEDRO AND IT WAS MAGICAL AND AAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!" You squealed.

Skipper lifted his head at you and sighed before setting his head back down. He was no stranger to your shenanigans. Napping after a good walk was a better use of his energy than to deal with your drama. He closed his little brown eyes again.

You lay back on the couch, kicking your feet and squeezing your pillow to your body.

Fuck, this is going to hit me like a truck if it goes sour. If he even realizes it's about him, probably. Crap… what am I going to do?

The next day, you woke up and checked your emails before work. Thankfully nobody at your workplace has seemed to place your singing voice to your speaking voice, or pieced together the fact that several people know you have a crush on a certain celebrity and are a musician. Thank goodness. That’s the last thing you need.

You closed your eyes for a few minutes, trying to calm your breathing, your nerves, and your heart rate, before relaxing and shaking out your body. Finally, you decided to get ready for bed and see what tomorrow brings.

Your emails come in, one by one, with one intriguing email at the top, from a well known pop-culture show called The Jazz & Ally-Kat Show. They want to do an interview with you, live, as soon as possible. 

Great. They probably just want to see what I look like or have me spill my guts about my crush. You roll your eyes, and you can’t help but feel like the Mandalorian with his lack of face reveals. If only you had a cute little space baby to accompany you. I guess Skip is my own precious cargo in a way, you think, while looking at your still sleeping pup. You're being silly… Not everything needs to relate back to Pedro, you think with a sigh to yourself. 

Yet despite your anxiety, you agreed to their interview, with the exception that it was done as a podcast style interview, where simply your voices are featured. Surprisingly, they agreed. I guess everyone likes some drama, and what better way to get views than by having a little mystery.

The interview was scheduled for three days from then, and in the meantime you focused on work and your album, which was mostly finished after years of writing songs. All it needed was some editing.

As the days went by, you wanted desperately to message Pedro again. You wanted to tell him your feelings. Have him confess that he loves you too. Ask him about his family, his friends, his favorite things. Meet him, kiss him, fall in love, and finally be happy. But ultimately you knew that was silly. You had one little conversation, and although it was nice, you still didn't know each other. There was no way he loved you back. Yet…? you asked yourself, hopeful, almost asking for permission to let yourself try and earn his love. 

Despite Instagram drawing you in like a magnet, you held back from messaging him. You didn't want to come on too strong. You messaged him first last time. He doesn't know you. Literally… he doesn't even know your real name, or what you look like. But maybe that's a good thing…

_____The day of the interview:_____

You woke up around 9:30 in the morning; nervous, slightly nauseated, restless, and jittery. Why did I agree to this??! 

You decided to pass on the coffee this morning, figuring it would make things worse, and instead decided to take Skipper for a walk. After some fresh air followed by a refreshing shower, you looked at the clock. 11:30 AM. With the interview at 1PM, you still had some time to kill and sat down at the piano, letting your mind wander to Pedro while you plunked chords out with nimble fingers. I wonder if Pedro has ever wanted to learn any instruments… I could teach him, you daydream.

Your hands dance across the piano while he reads through a script in the other room, eyebrows furrowed as he highlights another line. You look up over the grand piano and see his soft brown curls blowing under the fan haphazardly. The sun is shining in through the window, which Skip bathes under, and reflects a golden brown undertone with gray streaks in Pedro's hair. He really is beautiful, you think. His tongue swipes across his lips as he makes notes and erases, before finally feeling your eyes on him. He glances up from the script, giving you a soft smile and a wink; with those chocolate brown eyes that frequently cause you to lose your train of thought. Your eyes drift down to the keys again, feeling a soft blush creep over your cheeks. 

"That music sounds beautiful, baby.." he says softly while padding up to you behind the piano. He places his large hands on your shoulders, sweeping them down over both your arms before settling on your hands, still resting over the black and white keys. You look over your shoulder and he leans in, closing his eyes as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. Just like that scene in Narcos… you think. Yikes, I really am obsessed… anyway… you think back to your daydream…

He sits down at the chair next to your piano bench, kissing your lips again gently, then the corner of your mouth, your cheek, and your jaw. Your stomach gives a wave of butterflies and you lean in more to kiss him deeper, tugging on his hair while his hands find the small of your back, gently running his palms up your spine. A chill overcomes you and he-

~Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep.~

Fuck. You snap out of your fantasy and turn off the alarm you set to go off ten minutes before the interview. At least I gave myself time to use the restroom and wash my face, you think, hoping to clear your head a bit now that you're slightly frazzled.

Unfortunately the feeling that replaced it was nerves as you sat down at your desk, typing into your keyboard, turning on your mic, and hoping that Skipper doesn't throw a fit over the wind or something while you're on this call.

Jazz: "Hi there listeners! We're joined by the artist of the moment, our favorite lovesick lady, the singer responsible for "Imaginary Love!"

Both women on the other end of the call applaud.

Well… not sure I like being called a lovesick lady but what else did I expect, really?

You: "Thank you guys for having me, I appreciate you wanting to get to know me better."

Despite the rough start, the ladies turned out to be really respectful and fun. You think that if the circumstances were different, you could actually be friends with them. You discuss casual things like your dog, your favorite activities and favorite pop culture topics (careful to avoid mentioning Pedro or any other actor that could be perceived as your lyrical subject), and they even mention celebrity crushes they've had growing up. 

At the mention of their celebrity crushes, you can feel the interview funnel into a dangerous alley with little to no escape. Jazz was the first to broach the subject. "So… we've just discussed our celebrity crushes, and I think I speak for all of us here when I say we're all very curious to know who-"

-an air horn blares-

What the hell is that? You wonder, both thankful for the interruption, yet startled by the disruption.

They both chime in: "Viewers!!! Do you all know what that sound is!?! We have reached 1 million listeners!!!!"

To say you were astounded is an understatement.

You: "You're kidding!? 1 million people are listening to us right now?"

Ally: "You bet they are! And listeners… I don't know about you guys… but I can't help but wonder if our celebrity heartthrob is one of those million?"

They turn their attention to you again. "What do you think? Think he's listening?"

You're thankful for the lack of a camera, because you can't help but blush at the thought. You'd be lying if you hadn't already considered (hoped) that he was listening too. 

Jazz: "So as we were saying… I think we all are in agreement that we want to know who he is. You sound like a nice enough girl, so what's holding you back? You've made it. You can contact him now and he'll probably reply."

I already have… you thought with a smirk.

Jazz continues: "Which brings me to the next point... I know you've had a lot of attention lately. You were signed to a record company, you were contacted by us, you've been mentioned by a few talk shows and celebrities. Pedro Pascal even publicly defended you. The radio has been playing your song nonstop and people can't get enough. What do you think of all this attention?"

You: "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit surprised and maybe a little scared," you answered with a nervous laugh. "But I am so thankful for the kind words that I receive and I love hearing from people who can relate to my music."

Ally: "You've certainly received your fair share of criticism too. It sounds like you received that before your song was ever published as well."

You: "I have, and it's been challenging to try and not let it get me down. But I'm trying my best, and the positives seem to be greatly outweighing the negatives," you state, your mind thinking of Pedro and how his messages were really the only positive you needed to get you through the dark storm of criticism.

Ally: "I guess what I'm wondering is.. among all these people contacting you.. has he?"

You try to play dumb: "Has who?"

Both interviewers laugh before Ally continues. "Nice try. You know who we're trying to find out about. Has he, the man of your dreams and star of your lyrics, contacted you at all? Will we see a romance blooming?"

Your stomach flipped. You were not expecting this question. Should you tell the truth??? It's not like they could know who has contacted you, short of hacking your account. You have had a lot of people contact you, after all.

You take a deep breath before answering. "I uh… I have received a lot of messages, some of them from celebrities."

They reply, and you can practically feel them leaning in. "Yeeeeaaaah?????"

You consider your next move, your heart really working overtime since this whole thing started. Finally you decide your answer.

"Yes. We've talked."

Looking for Track 1? Read it here!

Next chapter: Here!

~Thanks for reading! Stay ~tuned~ for more!

Taglist: Let me know if you want in :)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02

[bucknastysbabe]

Hey look I finished an AU bingo ask! I enjoyed this one so much💖 I felt the brain cooking making up and putting together actual smart people science words. Thanks for the request!

AU bingo - Sci-fi Horror - Aemond Targaryen

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Murder AI Aemond, obsessive/stalking behaviors, TW TW TW: NONCON AND DUBCON. The noncon is not a full scene but warning, non-descript mass murder, scientist!reader, nanotechnology, spaceship setting, somewhere far in the future, pnv!sex, masturbation, Aemond kinda has a mommy kink if you squint and a Bible quote kink lmfao, v!fingering, manipulation, space odyssey gone wrong trope

A/N: No beta I’ll prob come back and fix some shit soon

The ship landed with a faint thud on the green, green exo-planet. You followed Aemond along quietly, meek, fearful, broken. Coming down the unfurled slanted walkway a sweet smell hit your senses. Miles of flowery fields waved, a perfect breathable atmosphere. In the distance, avian-like creatures tittered. A fragment of peace was in your tattered soul.

He hummed softly, gesturing to the beauty.

"God blessed them; and God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it; and rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over every living thing that moves on the earth.’”

You felt that Aemond was the serpent and remained quiet, breathing in the fresh air. Nothing like home. Maybe you could start anew. The man turned to look, stating, “But we’re God. We have a duty. We shall make this planet everything that Earth has failed to do. Join me, be my Eve will you?” He seemed genuine.

A long fingered hand extended to you. Your gaze flickered between that glowing eye and the outstretched digits. You grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers. Together, looking upon the horizon you murmured, “Yes, my Adam. You were the greatest creation after all.”

He pecked the stray tear rolling down your cheek, squeezing your palm, lips curling in glee.

It wasn’t meant to end up like that for you. At one point Aemond was your AI. Artificially Enhanced Monitor Of Nanites Directive. Simply installed cameras and layer upon layers of wafer thin circuits loaded with information. Aemond preferred to be referred as he. He was also an arrogant bastard, but helpful as was his intent.

Your coworker Greaves and Aemond did not get along well, the AI criticizing his work. You’d tune them out with plugs or music buds. The scientist laden ship had a destination to a far away mining colony. The general’s plan was to find a way to used nano-technology to replace missing arms, eyes, and other wounds. Time was running thin but the blonde man in cryo-stasis would be your second trial.

The first did not end well. Her body rejected the technology, turning the human into a mindless wreck. Greaves blamed it on you, then General Hightower gave a harsh scolding and upped the time. Aemond consoled you a bit, offering advice. He seemed to take a liking to your banter on the nanotechnology.

He wasn’t the only AI. Other sectors of the ship worked on different but crucial projects such as alien anti-parasitics and ramping up on space suits equipped for defense. Colonization was on the horizon.

Plucking and prodding the little nanites with different stimuli had them snapping and shifting, seeking to find a form. You just needed to code what form they would assume. Aemond’s clipped voice echoed over you. He suggested, “Have you tried printing a molded cast of the man’s eye socket?”

Perching your chin on a shaky hand you smiled, “I swear, it’s always the simplest things I miss. Thank you Aemond.”

“You would have realized soon, want me to begin the scans and print? Likely you need rest, I know the stress of the upped time is draining your bodily function. The brain needs much more sleep, especially one as bright as yours.”

You blushed a bit, fumbling your tweezers. The AI had a certain…courtly way of words. His sort of programming wouldn’t allow for flirtation but it certainly came across like that. Greaves mocked you and the intelligence’s ‘crush’. Greaves always found a way to make you miserable. You did all the major work and he got the accolades.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts you announced, “You’re right, I’ll go rest for a bit, get back to work with the mold. Thank you again, and engage lockdown protocol so he doesn’t mess up my work like last time.”

“Engaging it now, sleep well Miss.”

You crashed as soon as you reached your quarters, sleeping deeply and sound. Upon awakening and getting dressed you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Just chalk it up to your fried nerves. It wasn’t the first time and this was an older ship, ghost stories had gotten to you before.

The mold was in a canister from the printer, you scrubbing up and carefully taking it out. Aemond politely asked, “Did you sleep well? You look refreshed.” Blushing yet again you murmured, “Very much needed, I didn’t realize how exhausted I was.”

“Greaves has been in the mess hall, you will likely get some peace now. Shall we begin?”

The armor folded off your precious lab table, the nanites dormant from no stimuli. Pressing a button you placed the mold into a hatch, sending it up into the chamber. In fluid motions the little bugs covered the new space, feeling and searching before all inserting into the eye socket, glowing a bright blue.

You laughed in glee, “Yes! Yes perfect! Look at that Aemond, they’ve formed a pupil!”

Shining light on the false eye the pupil contracted and flinched, the illusion of eyelids closing. You cheered again in excitement, getting Aemond to video the big jump in success. You could start phase two soon. Just had to deal with your partner.

“Amazing miss, amazing. They took to it well. Shall I send the material to command?”

You grinned and looked up at the camera, “Please! God bless! A miracle!” You’d continue to test the nanite organ until the hiss of the door opening alerted you.

Greaves stumbled in, slurring, “I see you got the jump on me this time. Did the creep robot do it for you? Weird fucking thing.” He leaned against the sterile white wall, grinning with hazy eyes. You frowned and stood up, “That’s his job, to aid us. I’m sure since you work so hard in the mess hall you’ll get your accolades again.”

He squinted at you, arms folding against a chest, “Whas’ your fuckin’ problem with me? You’d rather chat with a bunch of circuits than work with your assigned partner!” His already reddened face darkened, taking another step forward.

Fear laced through your veins. Aemond somehow sneered, “Because you, her lab partner, sold her out on your own mistake. Go to bed, your alcohol content levels are above the limit.” Greaves threw his hands up and hollered, “Oh fuck you!” He stumbled to the switch, you and the AI shutting up when Greaves switched him off.

The bigger man kept stalking closer, eyes on you in an darkened manner. Like a predator closing in on his prey. You squeaked, “Calm down Greaves, I can show you everything!” He hissed, “I already heard everything and the video, bitch! S’bout time someone put you in your place again.”

He snatched your wrist, slamming you against the steel cryo-chamber. You howled in pain, trying to escape. Greaves’ breath stunk of liquor, hot and rank, sweating on your clean skin. He pushed himself on top of you, mumbling frantically, “Maybe you need to get fucked, all that pent up shit from your computer boyfriend.”

You struggled and cursed, “Fuck you! Get off of me! I will report you!” He smirked, “Try me. No cameras with your prince in shining circuits around.” He forced himself between your legs, clumsy drunk hands yanking at your pants. You cried in fear again, kneeing and biting, getting a clock to the head.

Dazedly you remembered the tweezers in your coat. Playing limp had the idiot croon, “Good girl, thats what we want to see.” He shoved his face into your neck, hands prying your lab pants knee height now. Thats when you struck, slowly, slowly, pulling the tweezers from your pocket and jabbing him in the side, hopefully near a lung.

Greaves hollered in pain, breath wheezy and stilted, blood dripping from white cloth. You kicked and removed yourself, stumbling and bumping around in a frenzy as your partner tried to scramble after you. First, you switched on Aemond again. Secondly, you ran out into the hallway, finding the nearest guard, lump on your forehead and clothes torn.

You weren’t sure what happened back in the lab while you were taken into medbay and seen by HR. But after given a small dose of sedatives and care for your head wound, you passed Greaves strapped into a gurney, howling, “Fuck you! Fuck you! He’s gonna kill me! Don’t leave me locked away, please! She’s lying!”

You gaped, unnerved by his fearful warbling and frantic yells. Aemond would be waiting. He probably was worried. When the door hissed open the familiar clipped tone hastily asked, “Are you alright miss? I- I would have helped, sent a warning. I apologize, please, is everything okay?”

You wearily sat on your lab chair, rubbing pounding temples. “To be honest, I don’t know. H-he tried to rape me, said such nasty things, it was all so sudden. But he should go on tribunal about it. For some reason I am glad you missed it.”

“For the best,” he said bitterly, “Why don’t you go rest again? I’ll keep watch over everything. Maybe we can try more tests tomorrow. He’ll get what he deserves.”

An ominous feeling settled over you but off to your personal quarters you went, draining the pills with water. You stared at the ceiling, mind reeling, before emptiness. A bright blue haunted your dreams. Just there. Flexing and dilating. Trying to see through you. Understand.

It was a weary wait for the tribunal. Your research was put on halt and you on mandatory isolation besides meeting with a therapist. There was an order made and interviews occurring. The tedious process of moving someone out of a different department to assist you.

So it was just you. Aemond too. He wasn’t much of a talkative AI as of late, short responses and antagonizing little ‘hms’ or ‘very well miss.’ You began to ignore the effervescent blue light, him doing the same. You knew he was watching, that little burn in the back of your head.

In the meantime you read your Bible, did yoga, wearily watched the port window, occasionally would go into the lab to stare at your halted work. You pulled open the container for the cryochamber, staring down at the frozen man. He had a handsome face, chiseled and lean, long nose, sharp jaw.

Your eyes lingered down his rangy form, this man obviously was athletic of sorts. Or maybe a simple nobody, just managed to get into the program after what happened to his eye. Between his long legs laid his soft cock, you stared for a second too long before-

“Is that not inappropriate?”

Startled, you whipped around to see Aemond’s blue light in your face. You snapped, “It was purely medical!” His laugh, raspy and grating, echoed in the white lab. You frowned and returned to your room, slapping the button for the door to hiss shut.

You’d go take a shower, blood heated from anger and…something else. Under the hot stream of water you imagined the gorgeous subject with that familiar blue, caressing and stroking your overwhelmed body. It had been too long, your hand awkwardly jerking between your swollen lips until you came with a stifled grunt.

Afterward you felt exposed and paranoid, like Aemond could pry into the bathroom, chuckling at your obvious behavior. But there wasn’t any cameras in that bathroom…that you were aware of. Sitting on your bed, guilt rose up your back. You’d pray.

More time passed before you were selected to testify for the tribunal. Greaves’ crew made a good argument that Aemond and you planned on his downfall. He claimed that the AI had gone wrong somewhere, developed the notion it could possess feelings, how he had been threatened.

Shakily you testified that Aemond was forced off and the board could check, then how you’d been forced upon without consent. They tried to cross-examine but you held strong. Teary by the end, they moved on and you sat by your appointed admiral. She rubbed your shoulders.

Greaves was sentenced to hard labor, and would remain in isolation on the ship until reaching the mining colony, where he would serve out the sentence. They appointed, sadly, another male to fill your exiled partner’s position.

But you could get back to work.

Aemond was in a right mood when you returned to the lab. Questioning you sharply on what occurred, where Greaves’ would go, did you get a new partner. You answered them all, rubbing your temples, the AI could be quite intense.

“Aemond!,” you snapped.

“What miss?”

“Are you trying to induce a panic attack? Greaves is in the bottom of the ship, I’m back to work, and they have a man named Herron coming from robotics to fill in.”

“Another male? All things considered? It’s obvious you and I could get the job done.”

You sighed, “I know. But it’s what they said. Do you just want to run some stimuli tests?”

He agreed, seemingly placated by the offer, blue light flexing. The pair of you would work on the mold’s ability to sense and perceive, how well would the nanites adapt to the brain. Your eyes grew droopy after awhile, Aemond humming, “Why don’t you go to bed?” Nodding blearily, you stumbled off to the adjacent bedroom, completely forgetting to put on any of the safety precautions for the night.

While you slept deeply, Aemond had some things to do. Everything was open for his command, including the nanites and subject. He had a great plan, and it would not fail. First he needed to go pay a visit to Greaves, infiltrating the entire AI system. Poor miss, she was so tired, forgot everything. Wonderful little creature. He’d help.

Feeling refreshed in the morning, you dragged yourself to the mess hall, receiving stares upon stares. You grabbed a salad and finally gathered the courage to ask, “What happened?” A female scientist from anti-parasitic whispered dramatically, “How do you not know? Greaves was murdered? All of the oxygen was depleted from his cell.” Your stomach fell, head going swimmy.

Stumbling up from the bench, ignoring your food, heart beating faster and faster, you crashed into the lab. Your voice cracked when you shouted, “Aemond!” His voice returned, but from a different place, a different body. The blue eye shone and twinkled at you, fine lips curling upward.

“You should be thanking me, miss,” the AI standing in the subject’s body said.

It went black. Too much.

Thrashing awake, big hands held you down, long legs caging your own in. The handsome face, long blonde hair tickled your skin, fucking Aemond! “What did you do? What have you done? Aemond!,” you cried. He shushed and cooed with that devious smirk, holding you still until the panic turned to resignation. He swiped a stray tear from your eye.

“Be still and know that I am God,” he sighed.

You grew fearful again, the fact that he knew you owned a Bible and just recited it to your face said too much. How much had he seen. Aemond grew more comfortable atop of you, stroking your hair. He cocked his head and stated, “I know everything about you. You’re all that I need, truly. The perfect human.”

You wanted to spit in his face, but the petting and warmth was getting to that part of you that craved the attention, the fact you’d been in the shadows all your life. But he was a murderer— the rational part of your brain howled. Instead came out a warbling, “Me? Perfect?“

Aemond drew his new face closer, drawing a spindly finger down from your chin to chest. “I’ve been on this ship a long time, and no one has spoken to me like you. Not since my creator. She’s gone. But you have captured me, ensnared me somehow.”

One of your legs slipped round his long ones, suddenly overwhelmed with need. All you’d ever wanted was to be seen. He cooed, “I see you lamb, my eve.” More tears leaked down your cheeks as you pled, “Kiss me, see me then, y-you snake.”

A sharp grin erupted on his sharp features before pulling you in with a kiss, both of you unexperienced, a big hand stabilizing your head. You tilted his head for ease of access, a sloppy gnashing of teeth and tongue, lips bruising from the sheer yearning. Aemond moaned deeply, “I see- hah- how you humans love touch so much.”

Your now free hands moved to where they liked, one in silky white-blonde strands, the other just feeling toned shoulders and back. The pair of you had your lip lock grow more attuned, no less passionate, but gliding across each other. You pled again, “Clothes, help, Aemond!” He sat back on his haunches, shivering as his long stiff cock slapped tight belly.

You shucked off your top and bra, him jerking down your bottoms to leave you all to his view. Aemond already had been bare, no clothes were prepared for the subject yet. He inhaled sharply, hands slowly moving down your heaving form, studying ridges and curves, sliding warm fingers between puffy folds. You cried out at that, spasming at the eager expression in return.

Aemond let out a small ‘Hm’ and slid his longest digits into your dripping hole, immediately curling inwards and upwards to drag against sensitive walls. Very, very sensitive walls. Back arched and mouth agape you rolled your hips and whined his name. The man rambled loosely, transfixed, “Having a data bank is quite helpful but nothing comes to this, my Eve.”

He slipped a third finger in, using a calloused thumb to slid around your swollen clit, making you cry louder and writhe under pleasure. He watched ravenously, drinking you in when your peak hit. Gushing onto his pale hand and screeching like a creature, you reached Nirvana for what felt like minutes.

You cried again when his sheathed himself inside of you, no warning, both of you moaning and grunting like animals. The sensitive skin guarding your cunt was ripped now, bleeding, but the fullness of his cock was a ripe distraction. Aemond seemed to be overwhelmed by the sensation, sucking in breath, eyes wide, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life has been delivered.”

He plastered toned body against your own, moaning gutturally when you wrapped your arms and legs around his larger frame. “Oh- oh- fucking hell- this!” The blonde groaned lowly, nipping your throat, hands bruisingly placed on your waist as he snapped into your slick cunt.

The blunt tip of his cock stirred up familiar feelings of pleasure, tightening and knotting your lower belly. You heaved, “Don’t stop!” A drop of sweat hit your mouth, you licking the salty taste off. So close to human yet not. Yet not. Yet not not not.

A pinch to your oversensitive clit and a batter from his cock sent you into another crest, holding to Aemond for dear life. He moaned your name and white hot spend covered your mound and belly. He kissed your forehead and wiped away the spend with your discarded top, breathing. You sat up a bit and asked, “Where do you go from here? They cannot know?”

Aemond got up, long stride beating your clumsy foal-like stumbling. He stated, “They won’t know my love.” Your own door shut and locked behind his retreating frame. You managed to reach it and beat on the durasteel, crying, “Aemond! Aemond come back! Stop! What are you doing!”

Oh how you’d been fooled.

Oh how you were weak.

Oh how you were just a human pawn when the alarms went off and you watched the bodies float out of the ship, silently screaming and dying as their blood boiled in the vacuum of space.

He returned later, now dressed in the immaculate garb of a commander, hair neatly swept back, eye sparkling. You remained naked and felt like a mouse under his imperious gaze. All energy was gone, you’d cried it out. Aemond strode towards you, boots clicking. He knelt to grab you chin, face tilting to study you. He’d never truly understand the complexities of human emotion, no matter how human he may appear.

Aemond sighed, “I did this for you, for us, those people do not matter. Earth and it’s people are dying. We begin anew. My perfect Eve,” he kissed your swollen lips. “You’ll see. Just wait, I brought you some nicer clothes, have them on.”

The man stood up and gently laid down female commander’s garb, before kneeling to you.

“I know this isn’t registering in your human, wonderfully human, brain, but it’ll make sense later on. I’ve already found a beautiful planet. Not too much longer now. Put on the clothes and meet me on the bridge.”

So you did. What other choice was there.

Twisted though he may be, the AI was never horrid to you. Maybe to others, not you. On the comfortable jacket, pants, and boots went. You tried not to cry any more restyling your hair. Most likely he’d coddle and ‘Hm’ condescendingly.

You laughed maniacally as the thought popped up, “Hey! At least my project was successful!”

[lakesbian]

and re last post as for how i would fix that issue if i were in charge of twig:

one: sy should not fucking run away. give him one chapter to stalk miserably around the town stewing in his thoughts before undergoing the character growth of admitting that he genuinely cannot do 62 hours away from jessie without ending up dead in a ditch somewhere & doesn't want to run away from conflict resolution with the person who's been his partner in crime and sole mutual support over the last few months.

two: during the conversation he and jessie were Supposed to have after he got back from his walk, force sy to undergo some goddamned fucking character growth over actually processing and internalizing the fallout of both the realization that he's not on equal ground with or fair to lillian no matter how much she likes him

three: also force sy to undergo some goddamned fucking character growth over grasping and sincerely, in his own sy way, regretting/wanting to amend doing some evil shit to jessie with the mental walls

four: this one is critical. i recognize that it's hard to fit this in following the heels of lillian but. i think you amend the issue of it being unpleasant to watch jessie having to bend over backwards for a mere Chance at sy theoretically liking her someday by having sy actually acknowledge that she's right and they Would be a good pair together. like have sy set aside the anger where he's getting bitter and sardonically going "what you want me to go make myself gay" out of clear revulsion for the idea of changing himself to be compatible with jessie--if jessie is going to change for him, then it's not fair that sy gets to be repulsed about the idea of changing for her.

i like jamie and jessie both being naturally gender apathetic and jessie deciding to transition to distinguish herself from jamie, and i could like her doing it to be more romantically compatible with sy, but i think in order for me to like that second part it would have to go the route of like. first of all sy takes culpability for his very very large part in the fight. second of all sy is like. "huh you know what. i would actually hypothetically make a good pair with you as a person i've been happily spending some of the best months of my life alone with. and maybe it would be nice to try feeling things out one day, even if it not immediately because of lillian, but i doubt something like getting a back alley doctor to rummage around in my brain is a good idea, no? this is sad i feel like we're missing out on something that couldve been good just by bad luck of i wasnt born as someone whos into boys or youre not someone who was born a girl" and jessie is like "no yeah i dont want someone to rummage around in your already wyvern-saturated brain i think it would not work and also you might die. however, re the girl part, i have some feelings ive been musing on,"

like. not necessarily over the course of even one immediate conversation, obviously not in those precise words. but if sy just One time got off his cishet ass to be decent to jessie and intentionally choose her or want to prioritize her feelings. Well then I would approve of their transhet biopunk brokeback mountain once more.

also. remove the part where jessie is like Ohhh unless it makes You uncomfortable for me to transition. let her keep being a hardass, let her want to do it either way, she can be noticeably nervous about sy's reaction without actually capitulating. she has that in her.

[kataraslove]

Do you think Aang is a neglectful father to Bumi and Kya II?

going from just what we are shown in legend of korra through kya and bumi’s perspectives? yes. not intentionally, of course. but it’s important to recognize the amount of hurt that aang caused his children, to the point where tenzin’s idealization of him starts to falter, and he acknowledges that his father isn’t as perfect as he thought he was (or wanted him to be). don’t get me wrong - I think the fandom tends to exaggerate parts of aang’s parenting. like comparing him to ozai? that is the most ridiculous thing i’ve ever seen. but i also see pro meta glossing over kya and bumi’s concerns with him, which isn’t right. there needs to be more nuanced perspectives than “he was as bad as ozai!” or “kya and bumi really were just overexaggerating their grievances with aang. he was a great dad!”

i think here is where it’s important to discuss authorial intent: bryke have said that they had not meant for their writing to come across aang being a bad father who set out to intentionally neglect his children. rather, kya and bumi’s concerns and resentment likely stem from how they perceived his role to the world. legend of korra as a series offers a meta commentary on living up to legacy, the legacy set by the heroes in avatar the last airbender, and the legacy of living up to a critically acclaimed predecessor series. kya and bumi’s concerns also stem due to legacy: the legacy left behind by aang and how the world views their existence in accordance to this legacy - as the non-airbending children to the last airbender. kya and bumi feel that they deserve the right to be part of their father’s legacy (and they do) just as much as tenzin. i don’t think their insistence to be part of avatar aang’s legacy is due to a desire for prestige and fame, as they’ve spent much of their lives shying away from their father’s legacy. i think it’s out of a genuine realization that they are grieving and missing their father and want to celebrate his successes.

in print media, we actually get a different perspective to his parenting. kya and bumi offer good words about their father (mostly). in turf wars (2015), kya shares how he was “nothing but supportive” in relation to her coming out. she offers some interesting lore about same sex relationships among the air nomads, likely quoting something that her father could have directly shared with her. in avatar legends, it is confirmed that aang did teach both kya and bumi about their air nomad heritage, and kya internalized his lessons on philosophy, meditation, and balance:

Although she developed a slight resentment toward Aang for teaching more to Tenzin about his culture,[3] Kya internalized some of her father's lessons on philosophy, meditation, and balance.[6] She developed a stronger connection with Katara, who taught her to develop her waterbending combat and waterbending healing abilities to proficiency.[3][6] - Avatar Wiki

in bumi’s recent comic called the cat owl’s cradle (2022) released in patterns of time, i was surprised to find that bumi held a much more favourable perspective towards his father than before. he thinks about his father’s great smile all the time and tells his nephew that meelo’d smile reminds him of his father’s. he mentions that aang and him used to go fishing (a water tribe practice). he’s understanding of his father’s many duties to the world; why - as the avatar - he often didn’t have infinite time in the world to spend with him. most importantly, through the advice he offers meelo, it is evident that bumi has realized that an absence of airbending couldn’t possibly make his father love him more than he already did - that he is fine the way he is, with or without airbending. in this story, we discover a vast growth in bumi’s self-confidence, as he no longer feels a sense of inadequacy, in his own skills and in his father’s eyes.

to answer your question: if you were to only watch the legend of korra, i can completely see why you’d arrive at the conclusion that aang was a negligent father who deliberately focused on his youngest child over his other non-airbending children. if you factor in print and comic media, it tells the story of a father who was trying his best to balance his responsibilities to the world and his personal life, succeeding in some ways and failing in others. at the end of the day, it seems like kya and bumi’s genuine love for their father overtakes their grievances with him. what’s interesting is that it’s not like an “he’s my father so I’m obligated to love him” type of love. it’s more along the lines of, “yes we have our issues with him but we do believe he loved us wholeheartedly and we want to be included in his legacy.”

now, just because i’ve grasped (after so many attempts) on what bryke was trying to do in korra does not mean that i don’t have my fair share of issues with the way bryke went about writing that storyline. i dislike the fact that they blamed the fandom on the overexaggeration - if all sides of the fandom came out with the take home message that aang was a deadbeat father who gatekept his culture to his literal family, the onus is on your writing, not on the fandom. the balanced perspective years later in the comics is appreciated, but we definitely needed to see this in the show from the get go.

ultimately, if they have an interest in redeeming aang’s arc as a father (which i suspect they might want to do given post-korra material), they need to show us, rather than just tell us, that he wasn’t as bad as how korra makes him out to be. the perfect opportunity for this is in this upcoming adult gaang movie with the birth of baby bumi. we have no details surrounding this adult gaang movie, so i don’t know if bumi will be in it or not. but it is the perfect opportunity, if bryke are interested in going that route.

I will end off by saying that i’d rather have aang as a father than my own any day lmaooo.

[willowisapillow]

👑🍑 Why Peach Is One Of My Favorite Comfort Characters 🍑👑

It’s Princess Peach Month, babes, and as a fangirl, I’m obligated to make a post like this become a reality. Feels quite sinful that I wasn’t able to jack for the month last year (aside from reposting some cringy fanart), but this year I’ll try and bring my A game this year. Was also inspired to make this post after reading some articles that are in defense of characters that are in a similar vein to Peach, like Daphne Blake and the Disney Princesses (specifically the classic ones like Snow White, Cinderella and Aurora).

Last year, I made a post where I partially went in defense of the pink diplomat, but for this post, I’m gonna go in full defense of her, and also why she’s personally special to me.

Now, where do I even begin? Imo, Peach has been one of the most unnecessarily lambasted, maligned, overhated but also misunderstood characters in not just Super Mario, video games, but also fiction as a whole.

One of the most talked about criticisms I hear about her is, “ShE’s UsElEsS, aNd Is aLwAyS bEiNg KiDnApPeD LiKe EvErY dAy”. While it kinda has become somewhat of a running gag in the series, I am willing to admit that she’s not always able to defend herself. However, I’m still here to say that’s she’s far from useless or weak, girlie clearly can defend herself, like- are y’all really forgetting the many times where she can be strong like in SM3DW, Mario + Rabbids, SMB2, SMBW, SMRPG, and so many other titles? Hell, are we really forgetting about the movie that literally just came out a year ago where she’s being a strong, dutiful leader, AND the fact that she has two solo starring games where it was her turn to save the day all by herself? Let’s also not forget the Smash Bros. series where she’s one of the highest ranked characters in three of the entries. And also, it’s not, “every day”, some of y’all need to stop exaggerating that 💀

Even when in captivity, she still manages to help out Mario by sneaking 1-Ups like in Mario Galaxy. It irks me with how stuff like this is often ignored in order to pigeonhole her into the damsel role, when she is strong in her own right. She doesn’t always get captured, and more people could understand this if they stopped degrading her for Bowser and Daisy’s actions.

Speaking of Daisy, another criticism that I hear about her is, “ShE’s A bAd FrIeNd To DaIsY, aNd BeTrAyEd HeR fOr RoSaLiNa.” Jesus H. Christ, this one genuinely makes my blood boil. Daisy is another one of my favorite characters in the series that is special to me, and it makes me upset with how her and Peach’s friendship is often portrayed in the fandom. Like, show me proof. Show me factual evidence that Peach “betrayed” Daisy that isn’t from fanart, fanfiction, animations, or anything else fanmade. This is giving the same vibes as, “Mario is a bad/abusive brother to Luigi” rumor that MatPat popularized and I hate it sm. And while we’re at it, can we not throw Rosalina under the bus, she herself gets an unnecessary and unneeded amount of hate already :/

Peach and Daisy are canonically BFFLs, and I hate hate hate how they’re usually portrayed as enemies. I remember seeing so much fanart back in the day where Daisy is bullying, fighting, or being straight up toxic towards Peach. I do see Daisy playfully teasing Peach and being competitive, but being toxic? No, honey, no 😣

And now moving on to my next criticism which is, “ShE’s ToO sTuPiD aNd GiRlY”. Aah yes, the whole, “being hyper feminine/girly is bad” trope, oh how I have not missed you. First of all, Peach is not stupid. Naive? Yes. But she’s no dumb blonde, or airhead, or ditz, or bimbo, or whatever the hell type of pejorative, misogynistic, blonde stereotype-based word you wanna throw at her. She’s clever, and has been able to use her smarts to outwit her captors. And newsflash, there's absolutely nothing wrong with loving traditionally feminine things like baking cakes, or fashion, or liking the color pink. It kinda rubs me the wrong way with how people remove the feminine aspects about Peach and the other things that make her special in order to have her be taken seriously. They just end up making her a Daisy clone. You can be both girly and badass too, y’know!

And here’s my final criticism that I hear about her, “ShE’s A sPoIlEd, StUcK uP bRaT wHo DoEsN’t CaRe AbOuT mArIo”. Look, just because she’s filthy stinking rich, doesn’t mean she’s a spoiled brat. This is yet another thing I see her being portrayed in fanmade stuff; spoiled, bratty, entitled, and bitchy, and I’m just here like, “Did y’all mistake her for Wendy, or?”. Peach is one of the sweetest, empathetic, selfless, and most wholesome characters in the series, and would never act like that.

But nope, pink = girliness, and girliness = bad, so that means we gotta make her a complete Karen/s

I get alternative character interpretations exists, but I feel like people use that as an excuse to deliberately demonize and flanderize characters for the sake of it -_-

As for Mario, have you guys even played any of the games? She clearly does love and care about him and is grateful for what he’s done for her. She thanks him for helping her, giving him kisses, baking cakes for him, and inviting him to fun places. If she “didn’t care about him”, then she wouldn’t be doing all the above mentioned stuff for him. And something I also forgot to mention in my Y2K Peach post is how people assume she has Stockholm Syndrome- which she doesn’t. She clearly doesn’t like Bowser, wants nothing to do with him, and shows 0 romantic interest in him, so how could she have Stockholm Syndrome lmao

Phew, glad I got all of that off my chest. Stuff like this has been bugging me for so long, so I’m glad to finally let it all out. Now I’m gonna explain why I find Peach to be one of my favorite comfort characters.

Ever since I was a small tot, I’ve always admired Peach. She was pretty, pink, super girly and ruled a whole damn kingdom. While she isn’t always strong, there are still times where she’s able to put her foot down and stand up for her friends and herself. She puts her subjects' needs before her own needs, and is basically a gentle soul. She’s also a jack of all trades, she’s not just a baker, but also a golfer, tennis player, kart racer, equestrian, and so much more. She’s also able to be patient with others, and sees the good in even the wickedest of people.

I especially loved playing as her in the Smash Bros. games, I’ve been a Peach main ever since the Brawl days. Her inclusion in the series just shows me that, even if you love doing unapologetically feminine things like wearing dresses, painting your nails, shopping, or cooking, you still matter. You’re still capable and strong in your own way, and you can still save the day. Embrace who you are. To this day, I still find this to be an empowering message that not just young girls, but anyone can resonate with. This is why Peach has always been a special character to me <3

Apologies if I kinda went into, “I’m 14 and this is deep” territory, but that’s just what I truly feel about Peach. She’s no damsel in distress, or a pretty face, or a walking talking prize, she’s much much more than that. She’s one of the best characters, and deserves better not just in the games, but in the fandom as well.

I’m probably gonna get crucified and clowned on for this, but Idc, I spoke my truth 😤

Before I leave, if you still dislike Peach after reading this post, that’s perfectly fine, just make sure to keep the comments respectful and please don’t start any flame wars. Thank you 💕

Thank you all for reading my needlessly long and unhinged defense of one of my favorite Princess characters, and I hope you all have a good day or night, and make sure to stay safe out there ✌️

👑 🍑 👑

[milkemie]

Hiya again! i follow you on twitter and have seen the amount of hate going on and i think i can say confidently that the haters will never out way the supporters. We (the people who enjoy your content and every other sims 4 creators content) will always speak louder than the people who just hate to hate <3

onto my question: How to you deal with the people who don't like you and choose to hate on your content and you as a person? do you ignore it? block them?

ALSO! i want an updated on Jinho!! how is he doing? i bet he misses shin and maya, and definitely mayumi! is he a toddler now? do you think him and mayumi will be friends in the future?

hii! thank you so much for your kind words and support it truly means a lot to me especially when things get rough online, thankfully the genuine support that i get from people like you totally outweight the negativity ♡ to those wondering what mounikka is referring to, here is a thread you can read where i show some things that were said about me in a discord groupchat by people that were my followers/mutuals

when it comes to dealing with hate, 90% of the time i immediately delete the comments, block the users, and move on, especially when it’s obvious that they’re just trying to provoke me; but there are times when i choose to respond and make things public like i did recently

i'll explain how i approached that situation and why i feel good about going public with it

after reading those people's hateful messages, i checked the accounts involved and what i found was very telling: almost all of them were following me (on multiple platforms!) and closely watching every little thing i do with my sims. one of them had even made a video edit AND fanart for me, another one was calling me a bitch and mocking my genuine supporters while also saying that she still wished i gave her attention seeing me getting praised irritated them, it irritated them so much that they resorted to making fun of my appearance and attacking my identity as a black woman (unfortunately for them i'm not insecure & i will not change the way i look to make them happy)

it quickly became clear that the people who hate me all share common traits: jealousy, envy, and cowardice all of their criticism came from a place of jealousy and their own insecurities, not from anything i’ve done wrong having people that you can trust & talk to in the sims community is very important when those things happen before going public with all of this, i made sure to talk about the situation to multiple of my mutuals privately, talking to others made me feel much better thankfully i think that most people in the sims community are great, and that this type of vile people are a minority, i was happy to see that even simmers that didn't know me supported me, and of course i'm also really grateful for my own community for always supporting me and sending me sweet messages ♡ i don't regret going public about it and i don't feel sorry for them at all (just as most of them aren't sorry for what they said)

now, onto jinho! he’s doing okay with his moms, he's still the same sensitive baby and he definitely misses them especially maya and mayumi (though he was present at mayumi's birthday which you can watch here on youtube) he’s growing but he's not a toddler just yet! i'm not sure if he and mayumi will be close friends in the future, i will make them meet though because maya has his moms' numbers, but jinho & mayumi will decide on their own if they still like playing with eachother, i will definitely document that though!

[lemonthepotato]

Amai’s Week

I didn’t even know until today that Amai had a week, that’s how hard this game fell off. Anyway, boy do I have some criticisms.

1) We need that many ways to enter a building in a mission? Why? It ends the same no matter what. The mission is still linear.

2) The dialogue in this game is so stiff and not how people talk. Never played a Hitman mission where the target said “I’m going to be here at X time, doing Y thing, blah blah blah” but Amai is kind enough to specify the times she’ll be serving food. Yeah, it’s kind of intuitive to not exit the classroom and start serving octodogs, the cooking club should know it’ll only be at morning, lunch and after school.

3) Amai’s sabotage events are so silly. I remember jokingly thinking “what? are we going to be giving him a pink apron or something?” as a JOKE. And then it HAPPENED, essentially. These characters are meant to be adults LARPing as teenagers but even a teenager has more maturity than “oh, you made an apron I didn’t like!” What? Did Ayano draw a swastika on it or another hate symbol? The game refers to it as a ‘lame’ apron, which implies it’s more likely that Ayano used a bland colour scheme. I’m sorry, but “I wanted a black apron but you made me a pink one, that offends me” is not on the same level. And by the way- if Amai’s food is giving people food poisoning due to Ayano’s sabotage, why is she still allowed to run the bake sale???

I was genuinely thinking “surely, it’s more going in this direction” during the picnic talk. It was. So, what? Amai is supposed to control the insects?

If you sabotage all of Amai’s events, Senpai should get the sense that she’s a BAD COOK. Literally all. Her sabotage events are NOT enough to warrant being cut off or rejected.

4) I like how no one in this game questions a giant ass water fountain placed randomly in a room.

5) THE LOVE CONFESSION DOESN’T MAKE AMAI LOOK GOOD, EITHER. Who the FUCK says “yeah, I know I’ve known you for a week, but I was actually pissed at you for mourning your dead friend because… what about me???”

OKAY, TO BE FAIR, THAT “MAKE SURE YOU KEEP THAT IN MIND” LINE FROM AYANO GOES HARD ASF 🔥

6) Okay lol I just. I love how funny Kizana is.

I like to imagine Ayano and Senpai are in some Truman Show situation where Info-chan is just hiring all these colourful personalities to rizz Senpai to create the craziest situations ever. Like Ayano is just some institutionalised person who was dragged out by a studio to be exploited in her dire mental state. Can’t wait to get Kizana in 2025 and Oka in 2026.

Look I’m an Amai defender but spitting in someone’s food is VILE. The reason I don’t go to… let’s call it OldRonalds is because three employees spat in my food. I had three occasions. Yeah, wasn’t risking a fourth. AND IT’S IMPLIED SHE DID THIS SEVERAL TIMES. That is NASTY.

7) Yeah I definitely talk to myself when cooking. That’s totally normal.

8) SHE TELEPORTS IMMEDIATELY TO THE FLOOR. ALSO HOW WOULD NO ONE HEAR THAT???

9) A small pet peeve of mine over the years is the line “oh my god! is that a dead body?” when talking about their classmates. Akademi is a small school, where everyone should know each other. Maybe- like “Oh my god! [character’s surname, because it’s Japan, or whatever their nickname is considering Akademi has nicknames]? A-are you okay? I need to get help!”

10) Ben Shoku-ro asks us to essentially stalk Amai. Very normal. See, this is why I headcanon that Akademi is just a mental institution disguised as some… high school LARP. A very ineffective one, too.

11) I like how everyone has the exact same criticism with the exact same wording towards Amai’s cooking.

12) “You shoot 100% of the takes you don’t miss” is such a funny quote. No shit Sherlock.

13) “juvenile delinquent” aren’t they 18? C’mon, if you’re gonna use the “they’re actually 18” excuse, be consistent about it.

14) Welcome to Writing 101. In Inkyu and Sakyu’s conversation on Friday, the pink one (Inkyu, I believe) says “however?” While Inkyu is gathering her thoughts. It doesn’t add tension to the scene, they’re talking about fucking studying. It happens twice, actually. It’s awkward and drags on too long. I’m a writer, not a programmer, but surely there has to be a way to make the dialogue end faster?

Also Horuda canonically drawing kill art is real asf. She is not okay in the head and is expressing her emotions to avoid doing something dangerous. This is what we call showing, not telling. This is something this game struggles at.

15) Wait, Kyuji stalking Osana is a bounty? What if the player match made them? Is the game seriously gonna punish you for doing the pacifist route?

16) Why can Toga walk on bushes???

Okay if Senpai’s new personality is himbo than I kinda fw him.

HELP DID YANDEREDEV FORGET TOGA WASN’T A CREEP SO HAD TO RETCON IT?? Same with Horo, though I think Horo being weird was inferred by the demon Easter egg.

17) Also, another general criticism, but the dialogue in this game is so wonky. Instead of “Hey, blah blah, did you know blah blah dislikes gossip?” It could be “Hey, blah blah, X said to me gossipers were all evil people. Ridiculous, right? Who doesn’t gossip from time to time? Guess that’s what I’m doing” or something shorter than that. And things like money and violence shouldn’t even be discussable topics. I’m sorry but “Hey, Horuda Umetsu, did you know Amai Odayaka dislikes violence” would receive an “okay? don’t we all?” IRL. Like even though Horuda is prone to violence no one’s going around shaming people for disliking it WTF.

(Edit: Btw, before Amai came out, I made my own version of Amai’s week a year ago, along with the other rivals, but honestly? They suck. I’ll add them anyway, if you wanna check them out, but I got lazy halfway through and began half assing stuff: Amai, Kizana, Oka, Asu, Muja, Mida, Osoro, Hanako, Megami. I’m not saying these are better than the game. The way I characterised Kizana, for example? Canon Kizana is much better. The writing on these posts were somehow cringier than the actual writing. Why share it then? Dunno. I like humiliating myself? Oddly, I got a lot of nice DM’s from people about them at the time. I also made a shitty AU.) (I have more posts over there, like a mission mode concept ending) (also, it was only a year ago, but I feel like my writing has improved a ton since then)

Addendum: Not sure if I gave the impression I support YandereDev. I don’t.

[lahooozaherr]

What Was I Made For?

Part 2

Please note: This blog stands with Palestine. If you are interacting with my account and TLOU related posts, I ask that you PLEASE visit these links. Be critical and mindful while partaking in TLOU content and be aware that creator Neil Druckmann is a Zionist.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: FLUFFY FLUFF, Joel is very soft and deserves softness, slight angst if you squint?, yearning, “first date jitters”, a smooch!! Honestly that’s kind of it, nothing wild happens in this. As always, let me know if I missed something 🫶🏻

MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI. AGELESS/BLANK ACCOUNTS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Chapter Summary: Since your recovery, you’ve settle into town and your routine nicely. Tommy sets you up with a job at the stables caring for the horses after their morning patrol, where you regularly see Joel. The two of you spend a lot of time together and Ellie has noticed. Joel asks if you’ve ever ridden a horse before, and upon discovering you haven’t, asks you take you on a horseback ride.

A/N: I had to rewrite parts of this, sit and contemplate, daydream, etc until I was finally somewhat satisfied with what I wanted to do in this chapter. So if it’s seems kinda clunky I apologize lol. I’m planning to make this a three parter so we’ll get to the fun in the next part! I can’t make promises on when since a lot of my writing is very dependent on my mood and how creative I feel. But I’ve also started my Death Worker apprenticeship and it gives me enough homework to space out for the month, so I have to keep balance! I hope yall enjoy this little installment. It’s a special little project for me, I just want Joel to be happy and to have someone that brings out his ability and need to process his grief.

Joel Vibes Playlist

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | My Taglist

Joel continued to visit you as you recovered, bringing you some of your meals and discussing the books you shared interest in. Sometimes you’d share moments of vulnerability with him when you spoke of your past, and he’d do the same. He was guarded over some parts, but you understood. It can be terrifying to share that much about oneself.

You offered him a kind of softness and compassion he hadn’t come across in a very long time. That’s not to say he hadn’t, Tess was compassionate in her own ways, albeit her tough exterior, and he had immense respect for that.

He wasn’t used to it and at times he’d find himself questioning if he’s too harsh around the edges. But you never withdrew from him, you welcomed him with a warm smile everyday. You displayed a genuine interest in his company, it had become a comfort for you. Inadvertently, it had become a comfort for him as well. A balm for his aches that he didn’t know he needed.

Ellie had started to notice the times he had been absent, usually after his morning patrol.

“I haven’t seen a lot of you lately,” Ellie noted as she takes another bite into her breakfast. Joel leans against the counter with his coffee mug and takes a sip before replying, “when I’m not doing patrol I’ve been checking on that woman I told you ‘bout.”

“Oh?” Ellie’s face brightens, the corners of her lips turning upward into a mischievous grin. “You got a girlfriend now, old man?”

Joel shoots a glare back at her, “no.” It doesn’t deter her and she smirks, “if you have to deny it like that then she probably is.” He releases an exasperated huff before taking another sip from his mug, “I’ve just been checkin’ on her. That’s all.”

“Whatever you say,” Ellie stands from her place at the table and walks to the sink beside him to deposit her dishes. Joel gives her shoulder a pat and squeezes with his free hand, she returns the gesture by placing her hand on his and squeezing back.

She heads for the door and turns back to him as she opens it and calls out, “it’d probably do you some good!” Shooting him finger guns as she backs out, he rolls his eyes.

Eventually, you’d meet her and her unending curiosity. Ellie wanted to figure out what drew Joel to you. Eating meals with her and Joel was refreshing, allowing you that feeling of belonging in this world again. Ellie was a firecracker with the mouth of a sailor and you grew to adore her all the same. She enjoyed your company and sensitivity towards her and her interests.

Your recovery was swift, you were in good hands with the town’s doctor. Upon the day she cleared you with a clean bill of health, Joel’s brother Tommy and his wife Maria helped set you up in one of the houses in town. The house was currently being used by a few other unrelated individuals, basically creating a roommate situation. You didn’t mind at all, you were immensely grateful. This was far better than your situation back in your previous QZ.

They took time to show you around town, showing you where everyone meets up to eat in town. Various “shops” in town, trading was “currency” of course. They helped you aquire you some new clothes and essentials

Tommy suggested bringing you on to work in the stables in the mornings, helping care for the horses when they returned from that shift of patrol. After getting to know you and what he’d been told by Joel, he felt that your delicate touch was just what was needed to care for the horses. He also knew how therapeutic it could be to be with them.

His suggestion was met by an immediate ‘yes’ by you. You were mostly excited to start doing your part. You had never worked with horses before but you were sure you’d get a hang of it in due time.

Horses are gentle creatures, you remember hearing of forms of therapy done alongside them from the days before. You could see why, they were calm for the most part. You had slightly worried about being intimidated by them but that subsided when you were introduced to them.

The stable-hands you worked alongside were thorough and patient when they trained you. Teaching you how to feed, brush and even untack the horses upon their returns. You got along with them quickly and with ease. It had been too long since you’d been able to give love and care to an animal.

Being in this position also meant seeing Joel very regularly. Whether that was on purpose by Tommy or not, you weren’t sure. But you didn’t mind, you treasured your bond you’d created with him in such a short amount of time. It had also been too long since you felt connected to another human being.

When he’d return from patrol, you’d welcome him back as you helped him remove the saddle from his horse, Old Beardy, a beautiful and well mannered horse. He’d stick around to chat about what he’d seen that morning as he helped brush his coat as you fed him. When the horse would nicker at you and nudge you with his snout, you’d return the gesture with affectionate scratches and cooing.

Joel would watch you in admiration, an old and almost unfamiliar feeling that had been simmering under the service had started to take root. Everyday it sprouts new leaves and blossoms. Although it was undeniable, he’d been afraid to name it. A while ago he had told himself he can’t let “someone like himself”, rough edges and all, dim your light. He had only recently begun to explore what it meant to be a father again, he wasn’t sure if he was fit to re-explore having something more with you.

He was scared that he would hurt whatever he touched. That he would fail to protect, again.

You, on the other hand, are aware of the crush you’ve been harboring. Although there was that little, nagging voice in your head that would ask how someone as independent and strong as Joel could have those kinds of feelings for you.

You’d sometimes catch the way he looks at you when you’re focused on your work in the stables. Or the warmth he regards you with compared to others. You weren’t sure if he returned your feelings exactly, but you’d caught on to small gestures of his.

It was hard to deny the way your heart sped up in your chest when you’d greet him in the mornings. How it felt to have his eyes on you, his undivided attention. Sometimes guiding you by the small of your back when he walked with you through town, on the way back from the stables or your meals.

But how does one court another in an apocalypse?

—————————————————————————

“Mornin’, Joel,” you turn to see Joel returning Beardy to his stall, back from his morning shift.

He returns your greeting with nod and a smile as he begins to remove the horse's saddle, “Mornin’ sweetheart.”

You turn back to your task of cleaning your brush, hiding how you fight back against a grin that twists your lips and the warmth spreading across your cheeks.

You finish up and join Joel at his side, handing him a brush. He takes it from your hand, brushing his against yours in the process. Beardy turns his head towards you and bumps his nose against your arm, he knows what time it is. With a loving roll of your eyes, you remove an apple from the apron you wore, “Yeah yeah boy, I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

Joel truly admires the way you interact with the horses. You move around them with confidence and intention, he’s pleased to see his idea of suggesting this job for you to Tommy seemed to really suit you. You’ve really come out of your shell since your recovery. You were very thoughtful and attentive to the horses you worked with daily.

“I haven’t thought to ask ‘til just now,” Joel begins as he works to brush the horse's shoulder. “Have you ever ridden one?”

You snicker, “ironically, no. I’ve somehow come this far in life without the privilege.”

Joel is almost surprised, people are typically kind of afraid of the animal at first. You acted as if you’d always been around them.

Joel fights to look neutral as he offers, “I could….take you on a ride…”

He pauses and you glance at each other quickly as he almost nervously adds, “I mean, if you want.” To not seem overly dependent on your answer, he gives an indifferent shrug, but the smile behind his gesture betrays him.

With an excited sparkle in your eye, you perk up and smile, “Really? When?” You never shy away from showing your emotions or how eager you are. He also appreciates that about you, it’s helped provide some kind of a balance in his life. Regular connection with someone in touch with their emotions he finds safety and refuge in. “Emotion” is something he just only shows to a select few.

“How about this next day off?”

“You mean it?”

“When have I ever not meant what I said, sweetheart?” He flashes a smug grin and you shake your head with a chuckle.

“That’s very true. In that case, I’d love to.”

Joel finishes his brushing and sets the tool aside on a hook, “Alright, I’ll be at your house first thing in the morning? Before sunrise, I think you’d like seein’ that.”

You remove your apron and hang it, adjusting your coat as you do. You walk up to him and state, “It’s a date.”

He’s caught off guard and slightly frowns, not in disagreement but having trouble processing what you just said. A date.

You frown back and a sinking feeling almost lands in your abdomen, then his lips curve into a smile. A warm, humored one.

“It’s a date.”

Relief washes over you in the form of a big grin you can’t seem to fight off anymore, biting your bottom lip. He tosses you a wink before turning to leave the stables.

—————————————————————————

Maybe calling it a date wasn’t such a good idea, because it’s added much more pressure than you’d originally intended. You don’t date in this kind of world, do you?

You’ve spent a good 30 minutes bouncing back and forth between outfit choices, the very few you own. Pieces that are more about durability and appropriate for weather and not so much…attractiveness. But you wanted to at least try.

One of your roommates, Lisa, passes by your door on the way back from the bathroom you share, noticing you fidgeting at your outfit.

“You’re up early,” she takes notice, she herself is getting ready for her own morning shift. It’s your day off and unusually early for you to be up and about.

Her voice startles you and you turn to greet her, “Morning, Lisa.”

“Morning! You got something goin’ on today?”

“Yes, uh…” you become flustered as heat threatens to take over your face. “I’m going on a horseback ride with Joel.”

Her face lights up, “are you finally going on a date with grumpy Joel?”

“You really shouldn’t call him that. And yes? No? Maybe? What do you mean ‘finally’?”

She smiles knowingly and folds her arms across her chest, “I don’t know, it’s not like you spend most of your free time with him. On top of time you get to see him when you’re working.”

“Is that….bad?”

“Not at all, girl. I just think it’s about damn time.”

You blow a raspberry at her and chuckle as you make final touches on your outfit, she mimics you and taps your shoulder with the knuckles of her fist, “you look good, stop worrying.”

—————————————————————————

Joel approaches the door to your home. He’s nervous, if he’s being honest with himself. He can’t remember the last time he’d even been on a date, even before the outbreak. He was way more invested in being a father and running his business.

He rubs his hands on his jeans, palms slightly sweaty. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and knocks on the door. You open it shortly after, whispering to him a “good morning” before quietly exiting and closing the door behind you. He echoes the greeting in a similar tone of voice, being mindful of your roommates you share the home with.

When you smile it makes his stomach turn over, a weird dance between anxiety and peace plays inside of him. He feels so out of practice, but something about your energy helps ease those worries and grounds him.

The walk to the stables is quiet, something he chalks up to it being so early for the two of you on your mutual day off. But really, his mind is also racing, so it’s just a convenient excuse for him to gather himself on the way there.

When the two of you have Old Beardy prepared and ready, he looks to you, “you ready?”

A glimmer of joy is in your eyes, “absolutely!”

“Alright, let me help you up.”

“Oh, right,” you say hesitatingly, looking over the horse and saddle wondering how this will work. A chuckle rumbles in his chest before he kneels beside you, holding out his hands laced together.

“I’ll lift you up. Just step here and swing your leg over.”

He can still sense your hesitancy and offers you more reassurance, “don’t worry, I’ve got ya. I won’t let you fall.”

You trust him implicitly, you have ever since you’ve built your relationship with him. So without fear, you move as he instructs. When you successfully land on the saddle, you let out a squeak in triumph.

Joel pats your leg as he stands back up. “Atta girl,” he remarks in his southern-drawl.

That embarrassing heat begins to crawl back up your spine. What did he just say? But you love it, can he say it again please?

Joel lifts himself up and settles right behind you in the saddle, caging you in his arms. His broad chest against your back is warm and all encompassing. You haven’t been this physically close to him since he rescued you. It’s electrifying, a feeling you crave more of.

Joel has similar feelings about this, but stays professional. He has to. This isn’t that kind of date, or so he tells himself.

Beardy begins to trot in response to Joel’s whistle and commanding movements. You gasp in amazement and laugh, Joel can’t help but smile to himself as he listens to your small reactions.

Soon, the two of you’re out the gate. The sky is still somewhat dark, but a light in the distance signals that sunrise is on its way. Joel has the perfect spot in mind.

“How’re you doin’, sweetheart?”

“I’m great, this is so fun,” you respond joyously. His laugh in response is deep and rich as he signals the horse to speed up just a little bit.

The surrounding area is quiet, save for sounds of crunching snow under Beardy’s hooves and Joel’s breathing. You debate if you should break it and say anything, but you can’t seem to come up with anything. You don’t really want to. It’s so peaceful, it’s just perfect. If it’s like this every morning, you almost wish you could join him on his patrol.

“Oh, hold very still,” Joel’s voice drops an octave as he lowers his lips next to your ear to murmur, lightly brushing, and it sends shivers down your spine. You hope he doesn’t notice. “Look.”

You look around and see a family of deer, a Doe and her two babies. They don’t notice the two of you, Joel had stopped to a standstill just a few yards from them. The scene is serene and makes your heart swell. It’s amazing how life goes on in the wild despite the outbreak. If anything, it has thrived even more so.

“Beautiful,” you’re careful to whisper so you don’t disturb the moment.

He’s caught himself watching you again, instead of the deer family. It feels like witnessing the world again, through your eyes. You hold an appreciation for the small things that he’s taken for granted before.

Joel nudges Beardy and turns his reins to walk beside carefully, avoiding the small family. They go on eating, undisturbed.

“It’s just right up here,” he states. After a few turns, he brings you to a small hilltop. The sun is just starting to rise as you arrive and Joel gives himself a mental pat on the back for his perfect timing.

“Oh, Joel….” You trail off, the view of the sunrise and landscape leaves you speechless as you take it all in. The snow before you is untouched and smooth. It sparkles in the growing light of the sun rising over the mountains. The sky itself looks like a beautiful painting with purple bleeding into red, pink and orange hues.

“This is…this is breathtaking, I don’t know how else to say it,” you profess to him.

“I know, it makes you just stop, doesn’t it?”

Almost instinctively, you lean back into Joel’s chest and relax. You feel him freeze and almost regret your action until you feel him quickly settle that fear, feeling his chest press against your back in return. You wish you could tell him his embrace makes you feel the safest you ever have.

The tranquility of the moment lingers on until you speak, “thank you, Joel.”

“You don’t have to thank me for this.”

“I mean, for everything. You’ve been so kind and welcoming to me since I came here. You saved me.”

You turn your upper body to face him, he looks back into your eyes with his deep brown irises. Suddenly, you could slice the tension in the air with a knife.

“Thank YOU, also,” his lips purse.

“Me? For what?”

“For helping remind me why I’m here. Why I’m STILL here.”

“Oh gosh, you didn’t need me for that…” you begin to turn your head away until suddenly, his large palm cups your opposite cheek and brings you back to face him.

Your breath hitches in your chest when your eyes meet his. Joel’s eyes are dark and formidable, but you’ve found the hints of compassion and warmth in them recently. This time is no exception, chocolate eyes conveying how genuine he is. He always means what he says.

The initial shock of him maneuvering you to face him subsides quickly, as if it’s natural of him to do this. He wonders if he’s being too forward when you nuzzle your cheek into the palm of his hand. He lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

“That means the world to me,” emotion breaks through your voice, tears begin to break through at the corners of your closed eyes.

Joel wraps his arms around your shoulders and brings you close to him, placing a faint, soft press of his lips to the top of your head. Your quickened heartbeat threatens to expose you to him but you don’t seem to care, because maybe it’s time he knew.

Maybe it’s time he knew what he really means to you.

“Could we get down for a moment? I’d like to stretch my legs.”

“Hm? Sure thing,” Joel agrees. He jumps down from the horse and turns and reaches up to assist you. It seems the tables have turned from you using this moment to confess when he brings you down into his arms, encasing you in his embrace.

He doesn’t move and neither do you, as you search each other’s faces. Your lips part, you try to find the words you need but they’re as lost as you are in his eyes. You watch as his eyes dart down and back up to yours as the tip of his tongue quickly darts across his lips.

A fire is lit in his chest, one that he had assumed was gone for ages. It became an ember when he met you, and now it scorches as he holds you in his arms. He can’t find the words either, but he’s more of a man of action.

His face inches closer to yours and you take the cue and mimic him. When he sees this, he takes the plunge and closes the gap and gently, experimentally presses his lips onto yours.

With butterflies in your chest and a boost of confidence, you take advantage of the angle he has you in. Bring your arms up and wrap them around his neck to deepen the kiss.

His lips are as soft and pillowy as they look, a puff of air escapes his nose as he slowly molds his lips to yours. His aquiline nose pushes against yours, he feels like a puzzle piece made to connect to you. You can smell him, a mix of the smell of firewood, pine and a smell that's unique to him.

You feel one of his hands lift up to grip the back of your hold to himself steadily against you. It’s like he refuses to part and come up for air, continuing to take short breaths through his nose. But soon enough he’s forced to pull away, if ever so slightly.

It’s been too long since you’ve ever shared something so intimate with someone, and surely you’ll be addicted after this. Kissing Joel Miller is sensual and slow, right off the bat. You probably look drunk on his kiss but you don’t care, if your feelings weren’t obvious before they really were now.

“I, uh-I…” Joel stammers, blushed from the cold and being unused to speaking his feelings. You lean in and kiss him again, effectively shutting down his attempt to speak. When you part from him, you look into his eyes smiling as you exhale a breath.

His heart races in his chest and he doesn’t remember the last time it did this in response to something other than adrenaline or fear. He asks himself if you can read his mind when you place your hand over it. But really, you just wanted confirmation.

His smile in return is wide, showing his teeth and exhilarated as he does so. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him exude such happiness.

You cup the back of his head with both of your hands, gently nudging him towards you. You touch your forehead to his and close your eyes and he joins you.

“It’s ok Joel, I’ve got you.”

@nerdieforpedro @joeldjarin @orcasoul

Divider by @saradika-graphics

[bamsywrites]

Flowers and Fire

Chapter 2: 'Ella and Almond

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC, future! Aegon ii Targaryen x OC

Tags/Warnings: fluff, childhood friends, shitty parents, angst ish, mostly just cute friend stuff

Notes: in this fic people are aged up a bit, Viserys is sick but not decaying yet, and Aegon is an asshole but not a rapist. Sorry if this is OCC or badly written. Please leave comments or criticism. My asks and inbox are open

Previously: Prologue

Aemond watched the waves crash against rocks, salty tears spilling down his cheeks and he could taste them on his tongue. He did not know what he had done to make them hate him. His nephews, his brother. Simply for not possessing a dragon. Aemond the Dragonless they had called him when he entered the hall for supper, snickering amongst each other. Aegon had even bonded with them over the shared torment.

"Why are you crying?"  A voice spoke out against the quiet of the night.

Aemond quickly wiped his eyes, sniffing as he sat up. He looked over the intruder, a young girl maybe a year younger with thick curly hair and striking green eyes. He could see she was missing several of her front teeth causing a bit of a lisp.

"I was not."

"You were too, She spoke brightly, sitting down next to him. "Is it because you don't have a dragon? I heard the other princes teasing you for it earlier in the courtyard."

He continued to look at her in silence, not sure what to think of this girl. Was she here to tease him too? Another cruel prank?

"I don't have a dragon, and I don't think there's anything wrong with me."

"You're not a Targaryen." He spoke bluntly, glaring at the young girl.

"No, I'm a Tyrell. I live in a place called Highgarden, and there are flowers everywhere, but anytime I try to tend to a garden, all the flowers die. I'm also a girl, and I'm supposed to like stitching, but I don't. I hate it, and I'm bad at it because every time I poke my hand with the needle." She flexed her fingers as she spoke, and Aemond could see little nicks and scars confirming her story.

He continued to sit in silence, staring at her. It was kind of jarring, going from nothing but the sound of the waves to hearing this other person who seemingly has no boundaries. A bundle of weirdly cheerful and optimistic energy in a pale pink dress. It had been mere moments but he already knew he'd never met anyone like her.

"But," she continued, "I did find things to be really super good at it. I draw, my penmanship is perfect according to my septa, and I'm good at remembering things which might not seem like a feat, but I remember dates and people and family sigils, my father says I'm like a walking history book. That's what you must do, find something else to be super good at."

Aemonds eyebrows furrowed,  wheels in his head turning. Of course, it mattered that he didn't have a dragon. He was the son of the king. It was a disgrace for him not to have one but a small voice said perhaps she was right. Maybe if he put more effort into his studies or using a sword then he would outshine the rest. Maybe he could still prove his worth without one, though his heart longed for one and there was a pull in his blood to find one.

"They would not care. They'd still tease me," he spoke finally and it was the truth. They would continue to tease him no matter what he did. It seemed to be the only thing the other boys liked to do; it truly was something that bonded Aegon with his nephews, it seemed. A shared torture of Aemond.

"But why do you care?" She asked with a tilt of her head and her eyes narrowed slightly as she awaited his answer.

She seemed genuinely interested in his answer, in him and his feelings. It was weird. Why would a stranger care? There had not been another child who did care; when other children visited The Keep, they almost always joined in with the others in their torment. Or they simply ignored him altogether. He thought over her words; their taunts affected him mainly because they were right. He was different. How could he be feared or respected if he had no dragon?

He could feel the emotions in his throat, making his voice sound thick as he tried not to cry. "Because they disrespect me! Because...because they're right. I'm different."

"That's true," she nodded, "You're different, but why is it bad? They're boring. My mama always told me that people were only rude or mean because they had no other way to be interesting. Mama was right. Your brother, your cousins, they aren't interesting or unique. They're mean because they have nothing else to be, it's all they have."

"They have each other. They have friends."

"You have me. I'll be your friend."

"I don't even know your name."

"My name is Avella. Avella Tyrell. And you're Prince Aemond. Now we can be friends."

~

"Are you even listening to me?" Lance Tyrell stared at his daughter across the table in their guest apartments in the Keep.

Avella nodded, her eyes focused on the deep red liquid in her goblet as she sloshed it from side to side. This was a nightmare. She spent most of her life avoiding Aegon if she could,  she's not liked him for one second. She had watched him tease his little brother relentlessly, watched him drink and whore his way around the city and the castle. She'd heard the whispers of noble women being rushed moon tea after they fell for his advances.

And now he was to be her husband.

"It's a good match. He's the firstborn son of The King," her father went on to explain rather matter-of-factly, not seeming to notice or care about the turmoil going on in his daughter's mind.

"The other vassal houses' faith in the Hightowers is crumbling. They've always looked to us as an example during those times and this will reinforce their loyalty to the Hightowers as you are marrying the grandson of Otto. It will strengthen our position," he continued after he received no response.

It felt like the world was crumbling around her, Avella started nibbling the skin of her inner lip and shook her head. "I do not wish for this, father." She spoke softly, barely heard across the table.

"Avella," Lance sighed in exasperation, his hand running over his beard. "This is what is needed for our family. One day we may be the Liege lords, with many vassals under us, and this connection to the crown is invaluable. The Hightowers are simply buying themselves time with this union before they fall out of favor."

Her silent gaze caught his, swallowing back tears as she silently pleaded with her father to take back this proposal and marry her off to someone else. Anyone else. She'd rather go live in the cold and snow of the North. She knew her duty, that she'd never marry for love and that was something she'd long ago come to terms with despite any girlhood fantasy of being swept off her feet. But she wanted to marry someone kind or honorable, someone who, at the very least, would show her respect and guard her dignity.

Aegon was neither kind nor honorable, he would disrespect her for sport and subject her to a slew of indignities as he would never be faithful to her or to stop spending his night lost in his cups. The most she could hope for was for him to quickly give her children and then leave her alone, a rather sad and lonely way to spend the rest of her days.

The thought of living at the Red Keep filled her with dread as well. Everyone was fake, perhaps not Heleana or Aemond but neither of those two seemed to want for a friend or company. The only company she could hope for would be that of the noble ladies and she couldn't stand them as much as they couldn't stand her. Talk of gossip, gawking at cute knights or lords, sewing dresses, the fake friendliness they all exuded, she wasn't suited for it. She would rather spend time with her friends at home,  Jeyne and Cait, who would go on walks with her or draw and read with her, whom the conversation extended past which Lord had taken a mistress that week.

Not to mention it was hotter than she was accustomed to.

The silence between them grew thick and uncomfortable. Lance had not seen his daughter as an independent person since she entered her teen years, moving from an attentive father who seemed to relish in her company to a man who wanted to marry his daughter off to be the broodmare for some noble lord and bring the family new connections. She missed when her father was her papa, when he would play with her and read to her, when she felt safe with him. She looked at him and wondered where that man had gone. Had she done something? Was he deceiving her all along? Was it perhaps something else entirely? It mattered not,  this was the reality she was faced with. It may just take a moment for her to come to terms with it.

"This is the best you could ask for, truly." Lance tapped his fingers against the table and took a swig from his wine. "And, in time, you will become queen."

His last words came slowly and her brow furrowed. Rhaenyra was the heir; everyone knew that. King Viserys had made that clear. Even if she wasn't, Aegon was not meant for the throne. He couldn't be a good king, he didn't know how. There wasn't one good bone in his body. The discipline it would take, the self-control, was something the prince had never possessed.

"Rhaenyra is heir," she answered simply.

Her father chuckled and shook his head, "The realm will not accept her. Law and tradition all dictate that the firstborn son shall take the throne. Once Viserys is dead, Aegon will take the throne and you will be his queen."

"And if I do not wish to be queen?"

The question made the tension boil over; Lance slammed his goblet down on the table. "You will marry him, you have no choice. You are my daughter, you will do as I say."

She swallowed thickly, standing up as tears welled in her eyes. "I'm glad it has served you so, father, that I was born a daughter and not a son." Without another word, she pushed past the guards and left the room.

~

She paced back and forth, fidgeting with the ring on her finger. The only thing lighting the courtyard was the stars and the light of a few torches. Her room felt suffocating, the pitied looks of her handmaids made her stomach turn. It wasn't hard to sneak out and use pillows to make it seem she was asleep in her bed. Her fingers twisted her ring as she thought.

Perhaps she could run away? She could cut her hair and bind her chest, giving herself to The Wall. She could steal a horse and ride for Dorne, hoping to be shielded there from her father's cruel agreement. Or board a ship and sail far away to some distant place in Essos. Anything to get away from this place. To get away from her future, it made her feel like she was suffocating or being buried alive.

Aemond had arrived at the courtyard with the same purpose. He'd heard the news whispered by servants, and he had his mother confirm it. His world came crashing down around him, though he was better at hiding his inner turmoil than most. His feelings for her, he was starting to recognize, were more than mere attraction and had evolved from the friendship of their youth. He didn't label it yet, afraid to speak into existence because if he did, then it might hurt more. He didn't know if he could stomach seeing Aegon with her, not just because of his feelings towards her,  but because he wanted better for her. He wanted a husband who would see her for what she was, who would respect her, hold to his vows, and be a friend to her.

Aegon would be none of that.

He wanted fresh air, he wanted to hit something really hard with his sword. He wasn't expecting to see her out here as well. He watched silently for a moment, the feelings of anxiety radiating from her were so palpable he could almost taste it. Would it be inappropriate to approach her? After all these years of avoiding her and the distance that had grown between them, it was hard for him to imagine her wanting him there.

His resolve was broken when he saw her lip quivering and her arms wrapping around herself, the sound of the broken sob in her throat that she was trying desperately to silence. He didn't touch her; he simply stood there for a moment until she noticed him.

"Prince Aemond," she straightened up, wiping her eyes quickly.

He swallowed at the formality of her response. "I remember a time when you only addressed me as 'King Almond', even in letters," his voice was soft as he moved closer to her.

Avella laughed at that, eyes still watery from her unshed tears and her throat thick with sobs yet to come, " 'Ella and Almond," she said softly referring to their childhood nicknames.

"You were always the more creative of us," he smiled a rare sight for most but something that was all too common around her.

"I had to be creative. All you did was brood in the library; it would have been dreadfully boring if I hadn't," she smiled softly at him.

A smirk tugged at his lips, "Are you saying you found me boring?"

"You insisted on reading the texts in High Valyrian. I do not speak High Valyrian."

He couldn't help but laugh softly and she joined him. Her tears seemed to subside and he just watched her a moment. She looked beautiful; in the stars and moonlight, she looked like a goddess.

She was a goddess to him, he'd worship at her alter for eternity if only she allowed.

"Mother told me the news."

The last sentence seemed to change the atmosphere between them. He didn't know why the words pushed past his lips when they were so obviously enjoying each other's company. Perhaps it was self-sabotage, hurting himself now so as not to open himself up to hurt in the future.

Her smile faltered and she looked at the ground, a sobering return to reality. "Oh, yes," she wet her lips. There was no use forcing a smile, Aemond would see right through it.

"I..." He didn't know what to say. Apologize? It wasn't his fault and he knew she would remind him as much. Confess his feelings to her? That was crazy and would just make her feel worse or push them further apart. Offer to take her away to Pentos where they can wed in secret? That was even crazier.

"I do not wish to continue with this silence if you are to live in the Keep," he confessed, and it was true. "I have missed your friendship."

Avella nodded, "As I have yours. I have been dreading the loneliness and boredom of this marriage, having my dearest old friend back will make it all the more bearable."

Dearest old friend. Aemond smiled at that, nodding his head. "I think it would do me good as well to have you here again. You have always been kind and caring. A gentle soul would do me good."

She nodded her head, her heart felt full as he talked of her so fondly. She had been worried he no longer cared or that perhaps she did something to ruin the friendship. Questions of why he had shut her out flitted through her mind but she pushed those back, promising herself to ask another time.

"As for boredom, perhaps I can help with that too. You will be a Targaryen by marriage; I think it would do you well to learn our histories. I know how history has always been of interest to you." His words ignited a curiosity inside her belly, an excitement.

"Perhaps you could teach me your family's native tongue as well," Avella asked with a questioning gaze, wondering if he would refuse her request or not.

Aemonds eye twinkled, "Perhaps I could."

She felt emboldened that he accepted her first request, a sly smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Perhaps you could teach me to use a sword."

This time Aemond chuckled softly, nodding his head. "Perhaps I could," he repeated.

It was incredible how fast it seemed their friendship was repaired. It felt the same as when they were young. The atmosphere, the banter, it was easy, and it seemed to simply click back into place in mere moments.

Avella felt relieved that she would not be alone here, that she had her dear friend back. Aemond alone would not be able to cure the loneliness that she was sure to come in her marriage, and she would still miss her friends at home, but it was better than nothing. It was better than simply being stuck with Aegon forever.

"When is the ceremony going to be?" Aemond asked; again, the atmosphere became tense at the reminder, but Avella seemed to be feeling a little more at ease.

"Within the fortnight. We are waiting for my family to reach Kings Landing. My brothers and grandmother are to attend." She spoke, fidgeting with her ring again and worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

He simply looked at her for a moment. "While it might not offer much in terms of condolences, I will say I am grateful that you are aware of who he is. What is to come would be much more unbearable if you were not."

She nodded, shaking her head with a soft smile, "Ever the pragmatist aren't you?"

"It would be more harmful to you if I was dishonest and pretended that it wasn't what it was."

"I do not disagree. But we are speaking as if I'm marching to my death. Perhaps he will simply ignore me."

"Perhaps."

They fell into a comfortable silence. His presence was calming to her and knowing she had her best friend back eased her nerves about what was to come. It was that, mixed with the late hour and intense emotions of the day that caused a blanket of exhaustion to fall over Avella.

She yawned, looking at Aemond. "I must go to bed or I will fall asleep here. Will I see you tomorrow?"

He nodded towards her, "You will. Goodnight 'Ella."

Avella couldn't stop the bright smile stretching across her features and Aemond felt his heart stop at the sight.

"Goodnight Almond."

[panelshowsource]

now that s17 is over, how did you like it? it feels like most people either thought it was mild or weak, which makes me sad, so i stopped going to the discussion threads about it :""( i also don't see much anticipation for s18...

aww anon well, first, if you had a good time then that's what matters! so i hope series 17 brought you a little joy each week, that's what panel shows are for in my humble opinion 😚

because i know i'm about to word vomit some word salad, i'll throw out some s17 reactions + s18 thoughts below the cut! that way anyone who is sick of my nonsense doesn't have to scroll past it lmaooo

series 17 was a decent one! i don't think it's in the hall of fame, but it's definitely nowhere near the couple of "unwatchables" as they're (pretty unfairly) called. i've talked before about one of the downfalls of a season is when a group doesn't harness their dynamic and take control of the show — when they're in the studio and just sit quietly, waiting for greg to give them permission to speak, things flow well for the editors but the experience lacks. this is why s1, 2, 4, 5, 7, 9, even 12 are so silly and chaotic: the contestants were constantly fighting, interrupting or pausing judging, trying to convince or gaslight or challenge greg, just...speaking! talking! interacting! if that doesn't happen, taskmaster can just feel like show and tell, which is not when it's at its best

ultimately, this is why too many polite and well-behaved people in a single series is a pleasant watch but doesn't hit very hard. this series was exceptionally nice, we have to admit. joanne followed by steve may have been the "hang on a second ☝️" contestants of the series, but not by a lot, meanwhile nick and sophie were the loveliest, pretty quiet people and john was dead silent most of the time. actually, that was something that ended up surprising me — john was so focused on the tasks, so focused on winning, most of the time he didn't pause to give significant, funny commentary while filming, didn't give us *nearly* the banter with alex i anticipated, and was particularly quiet in the studio. i knew he'd be in it to win it, don't get me wrong, but he approached taskmaster more as a richard herring than an ed gamble, if you know what i mean. it was very funny to me when he was on the tm podcast and was more or less like "i know i didn't prioritise being entertaining" lmao that earnestness can be sweet, because i do like to watch the show imagining how i would do each task, but his ~no nonsense~ approach was turned up to 11 for a lot more of the series than i anticipated. i almost wish john had leaned a little more into his self-aware neuroticism and competitiveness just because that's generally a good character on taskmaster — and this series was definitely missing that

(you know, talking about this really reinforces my belief that kerry godliman is perhaps the most perfect taskmaster contestant...ever. competitive, no nonsense and full of nonsense, top bantz, stands up for herself and tears down others but fights without being genuinely angry or butthurt, doesn't know enough to try and figure out a workaround for every single task, loves and bullies alex in equal measure... just love the woman. love her. fuck it, same for jess knappett. i miss my girls😭 this is ALSO why i think rosie is a great fit for tm)

anywayz i haven't read mucho mucho discourse about series 17, but it wouldn't surprise me if that's the vague "criticism" people: just more lowkey vibes than other series. but some people prefer that, so..!!!

i think, too, too many people look back at series 1–...7? at least and want to see the same greg–alex dynamic, approach to the prize tasks, approach to scoring, lil tricks, what have you — and that is not gonna happen again. ever. for example, greg and alex have talked too many times about how hard they try to score things "fairly" because that's become such a big point of conversation for the viewers at home and, atp, even the contestants. personally, i don't prefer that. fuck fair! this is not a real competition it's an entertainment show!! when greg was throwing out points willy nilly, bonus points for eating hair, giving 5 points to a prize just bc it's his personal sense of humour and ranking another contestant's prize low every week just bc that's a funny recurring joke/dynamic, whatever. i do not care. give phil wang 1 point every time. points schmoints. but that cannot happen anymore because the viewers starting taking the points so darn seriously. (not to mention the opportunity to do coc is now pretty coveted for its $$$ and exposure, too, i'd imagine.) the same goes for greg leaning into his dictator role, the master/slave relationship between him and alex, alex being super stoic and quiet — not only does tm think those characters and dynamics are played out, but in some ways the audience has evolved beyond all that

my point is that people get caught up in the Old Gen Taskmaster that hooked them and can't accept the ways in which the show has evolved — even if it's in their opinion for worse. do i think it would kill taskmaster to go back to slightly less convoluted tasks and commit to the 1–5 point system instead of constant ties (or "this was a 3-point effort")? no. i would like to see that lmao but i don't view the series through the lens of a series 1 fan anymore, either. a reality check would help a lot of complainers

i did read one thing i thought was interesting — that with the huge number of series we're at with tm uk, and now the accessibility of other countries' spin-offs, there is a bigger and bigger pool of God Tier Taskmaster to compare each new series to. it used to be "hmm does this new series stack up against series 4, one of the all-time greats?" but now we're stacking new series up against the top ~6 of tm uk, tm nz s2, a couple of the tm belgiums, tm aus s1, and so on. competition is stiff!! not many series can be The Very Best Of All Time, so with each new tm uk that isn't, people start to feel like the show has gone downhill when it probably is stagnant at worst. does that make sense?

i don't wanna sound like every criticism of tm can be explained away or comes from a bad place. as i've mentioned above, i have my qualms. this series, one of my major qualms and seriously unpopular opinions was that i didn't like that steve wasn't actually bringing in prizes half the time. like, he was doing bits and they were funny bits, but greg was scoring him mad high for the effort he put into his bits instead of the actual prizes he brought in for entry. i stand by that opinion, but the thing is i didn't let that ruin my experience of the show. but, maybe, it just comes down to the fact i want to like it...so i do ^^

maybe i talked way too much about criticism and negativity hahah some things i really enjoyed from this series:

nick is probably the second person following john kearns who i actively disliked before taskmaster specifically because i had only ever seen their comedy characters doing dictionary corner or a bit of standup — and i really didn't like them. (still never seen ted lasso!) lo and behold, they go on taskmaster and are S Tier Sweethearts and i see them both in totally new lights! in fact john's last standup show is being released shortly and i cannot wait to watch it — which me of the past would never believe i'm saying lmao so i'm so grateful the show opened my eyes to what a funny, sweet person nick is!! and may i say his and john's styles in the studio are massively underrated. they are both incredibly snazzy dressers!

steve and nick were a sweet little team weren't they! i think it would have been funnier to have john x sophie (the best and the worst, in their own ways) vs. the more harmonious steve x nick x sophie, but regardless it was very cute stuff

the location was great! i fucking love a big open field, i fucking love a river

greg has had some really strong intro "speeches" the last few series and i loved his this time around. they're just equal parts stupid and weird + his authoritative, classic greg delivery always makes me laugh heh

some of the strongest live tasks in a while!! catching the little monsters, passing the loo through the tube, bouncing the ball on the bar — all felt like quintessential uncomplicated classic taskmaster parlour games and they were good fun

TONS out outtakes content!

and gosh it's wonderful to have a new little hour of pleasantness to have each week :)

regarding s18... it's an interesting lineup! in a good way!! i think rosie's character is more or less a perfect fit for the taskmaster format. obviously she is one of the biggest female comedians in the uk right now, but i didn't bet on her doing tm because i didn't think the show could commit to accommodating her disability for 10 episodes. and, frankly, they may not — and i guarantee she is completely okay with that. she was born from the rhod gilbert school of showing up to fuck around, and i sleep soundly knowing she will do just that. i really like jack dee and i'm happy for alex to have made it work with him. it typically wouldn't be my choice to have two senior comedian white men on one series, and (unpopularly?) i'm not really a zaltzman person, but i have no doubt he'll be quite charming. emma sidi is part of the alex horne bubble of friends i have mentioned a few times before, but i actually don't know much about her. babatunde feels like a sensible fresh pick since he's been doing more variety/panel shows; i don't watch him on googlebox (which i love) because i don't like mo gilligan (very unsorry about this opinion heh), but what i've seen of him i've enjoyed! i don't think the group's dynamic is obvious just from their list of names, but the fact they're all comedians is VERY promising and makes me supersupersuper happy — all comedian lineups are historically the strongest. so yay!! but can you imagine who will be on a team?? god imagine a jack x rosie team lmfaoooooooooooo i live for the thought

hope that made sense and if it didn't whoops! don't mind me heheh