#seriously what the fuck is wrong with her

[andhumanslovedstories]

Well. Turns out she didn’t win.

I was talking to my mom on the phone this morning after my shift, and she was like, “seriously, how are YOU doing,” and I thought about this patient I worked with last night. Not even my patient, I was just answering his bed alarm while his nurse was dealing with a situation she couldn’t leave. I go to the room, and this guy is trying to get out of bed by crawling over the railings. He’s delirious, he’s confused, he’s super hard to understand, and he’s got that look you get when you’ve been very sick for a long time in a really specific way. Basically the kind of patient where you walk in the room and know that on top of whatever else brought them to the hospital, they’re also withdrawing from meth or fentanyl or both. And he super was, oh my god, this guy was withdrawing hard.

So me and a CNA, god bless her, we get him up to the bathroom like he’s trying to do and then we get him back to bed. He climbs in the wrong way, his head is pressed against the foot of the bed, he’s saying over and over that he wants something to drink, and I say to him, “while the CNA is getting you that drink, can I sit you up and get you more comfortable? Is that okay?”

And he shouts in my face, “NO, IT’S NOT FUCKING OKAY,” with this look of pure anger. It’s genuinely frightening to be stared down by someone and to know that if something goes wrong, they’re gonna try to hurt you. And I’m like “okay cool,” and I step back because he’s a spooked horse ready to kick. The CNA gets that drink, and while she helps him with that, I get him his scheduled meds that will help his withdrawal. When I come back, the patient is back in bed properly, tucked in comfortable, as the CNA holds a carton of milk so he can drink it through a straw.

That patient stayed agitated for the whole time I worked with him, but he never got violent. And he never looked at me again that way he had. He stayed pissed, but we got him to be pissed at the situation, not us, and then we worked to fix the situation.

I think about all the ways that could have gone. Stuff like that happens all the time where the margin between violent and not violent is so thin, and so determined by the smallest things. There’s a very plausible world where I got punched or the CNA got kicked and then the patient got drugged or restrained, and everyone in the situation is worse off than they’d been before. There’s a very plausible world where he didn’t get the care he needed because I was scared of him. That didn’t happen. I’m not saying we absolutely crushed it, he definitely was still in a bad way by the time I had to leave, but no one got hurt and he got his medicine and his nurse got to finish dealing with her completely unrelated emergency before she had to come deal with this potential new one.

That’s what I thought about when Mom asked me how I was doing, and I thought this Terry Pratchett quote that had been bouncing around my head all night: “You do the job that’s in front of you.” So that’s how I’m doing. Whatever all that means, that’s how I’m doing.

I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.

In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.

Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.

On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.

It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”

I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.

That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.

It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.

Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.

I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.

After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.

Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.

I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.

I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.

Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.

I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.

But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?

[ravengards-rogue]

bright as the morning, soft as the rain

sebastian (stardew valley) x reader

✧ tags : gender neutral reader, canon divergence, a lot of author liberties, alcohol, fluffy, pre-relationship, mildly suggestive but sooo mildly lol.

✧ wc : 3.4k (this is ridiculous lol)

✧ a/n : the thing to get me out of my writing slump being sdv fanfiction is hilarious.

hi! this is the first part to a silly little alternative first kiss series i have planned for the stardew romanceable characters. i think the other ones will be shorter (hopefully but lol).

i will link the rest of them as they get posted. i hope u like. rbs appreciated. also tagging @antique-remains (hi this is fang on my side blog lol)

✧ synopsis : sebastian wants to do anything but think of you. he's failing miserably on that front. sam and abigail are not helping.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

“Earth to Sebastian,” Sam snaps his fingers in front of Sebastian’s face. Sebastian jumps in his skin. “What’s with you today? If you’re not gonna take our pool playing tradition seriously, I’m not playing.”  

He swipes a hand over his face, cursing under his breath. Half-empty Joja-Cola can sits directly besides his pool stick, the faint air of smoke and liquor in the air. Right. He’s here to play pool.  

 He pinches the bridge of his nose with exasperation, shaking off the feeling before scratching the back of his neck.  

“No, sorry. I wanna play, just…give me a sec.”  

“Got something on your mind Seb?”  Abigail prods, unfortunately intuitive. Sebastian scowls at her. She stands to her feet to get closer, sitting on the edge of the pool table with her cheek turned just enough to look at him. Her smile is coy. “A certain someone, maybe?”  

His scowl deepens, lip curled in distaste. “No. Move. You’re in my way.”  

“You’re a bad liar.” Abigail says with a resigned sigh, arms crossed. “You weren’t this spacey last time you dated someone. ”  

“Fuck off,” Sebastian sighs. “It’s not like that yet.”  

Abigail grins before Sebastian can  correct the slip up. “Yet. Yet, he says.” 

Sebastian feels himself blush. “Ugh.” 

He sighs as he stands back up, leaning against his pool stick. Sam stops whatever he was doing (messing with the pool table deliberately, Sebastian assumes), taking newfound interest in the conversation.  

“Oh, you two talking about our new neighbor?” 

“Not really new. It’s been like… what a year or two almost?” Abigail adds. Sam shrugs.  

“That’s true. But it feels new to me anyway.” Sam says. He gives up on pool it seems like, abandoning his stick on the table in favor of navigating to the box pizza balancing on another table nearby and his drink. Sebastian watches him shimmy a slice of the pie, not bothering to blow on it as he eats. “Oh is that why your heads in the clouds? Figures.”  

“I didn’t say that. Abigail said that.”  

“And you’re saying she’s wrong?”  

Sebastian huffs. “…Yes.”  

Sam laughs good-naturedly. “Pfft. Uh-huh, yeah. I super believe you.”  

“Fuck you both.” 

“Come on, Seb. It’s not like everyone in town doesn’t know.”  

Sebastian’s frown deepens. “Not everyone.”  

Sam seats himself on the couch again and Abigail joins him. It creaks under the weight of them as they get comfortable together. Sebastian stays where he is, sitting on the tables edge with a drink in his hand and an itch for a cigarette.  

Sam counts on his fingers. “Your mom knows. My mom knows. Abby’s mom knows. If they all know then our dads definitely also know. Who else does that leave? Our towns tiny dude. Like I’d say Elliot doesn’t, but he’s here on Friday’s and he catches up with gossip all the time. So basically everyone.”  

“…Shit.”  

“See? Told you.”  

Sebastian doesn’t need everyone to know what’s going on between you. He doesn’t even know what’s going on between you. It’s taken him longer than he cares to admit to even acknowledge that there was something there. And he didn’t know it was mutual until recently when Abigail came dropped by to tell him she overheard her dad explaining old Pelican Town traditions on dating and romance. 

(Abigail always describes things in excruciating detail, adding all the bells and whistles. This makes her great to play the Solarion Chronicles with.  

It also makes her  good at artfully recounting interactions. He can easily picture you the way she said she saw you, overalls  half unbuttoned, dirt covered and leaning over the counter just slightly giving Pierre your rapt attention.   

The thought of it is enough to trigger some sense of affection he’s never entirely felt before.)  

It’s not like Sebastian is against the idea of dating you, it’s just— 

“I think you should go out with them Seb. I like ‘em a lot more than your exes.”  

Sebastian sighs. “You guys know why I’m on the fence.”  

Sam shrugs. “Does they even count though? They’re not actually from here. They live here sure but they didn’t grow up here.”  

“Right? That’s what I think too. Might as well go for it.” Abigail shrugs, glancing at Sebastian. “I really don’t get why you’re hesitating. Something else has to bugging you.”  

“I thought that too.” Sam adds. 

A faint blush creeps up his neck. He loves his friends and sometimes, he appreciates how well they know him. Times like this, he thinks it wouldn’t kill them to be a little less perceptive.  

They’re not wrong. It is something of a flimsy excuse to try not to think about you. Sebastian has always had a not dating policy about people he grew up with. He nearly dated Abigail in highschool and it was a shitshow. So he’s vowed to never do it again.  

But that’s not the real reason he’s been rejecting the possibility in his head. He uses it more for himself than anyone else. It’s not like he can give them the real answer because he thinks it’s one hundred times more embarrassing.  

How the fuck is he meant to tell them the reason he keeps hesitating to define your relationship is because he feels like he likes you too much?  

That’s the real reason he’s going in circles about it. It’s so cringe it makes him want to break out in hives but well, it is true. Sebastian likes you—like really fucking likes you—and it’s freaking him out because he thinks it’s the first time he’s really liked anyone.  

Dating has never been all that fun for Sebastian. It wasn’t something that felt meaningful. He dated mostly in college and only one of those relationships lasted a significant amount of time. And even then the relationship was never all that genuine. They ultimately broke up because Sebastian realized they were fundamentally incompatible. As bad as it sounds, there wasn’t a real sense of attachment there, not once. It was just convenient for both of them. He realized at that point he should probably just focus on himself.  

That was about when he moved back home to the valley to live with his family in his post graduation.  

And he had honestly expected it to be another few mundane years, akin to his early adolescence. He was so sure that he would spend it with the same restless feeling in his stomach, the same longing to be somewhere else. If he could never feel any belonging, at least he wanted to be somewhere he could blend in. He thought for sure moving back to Pelican Town was going to be nothing but dreadful and boring and existential. That he would come back and remember why he wanted to leave in the first place.  

Until one day, someone from the city moved into the old, overgrown farm and turned the entirety of the valley upside down.  

When you met for the first time, Sebastian honestly didn’t care. Nothing goes on in Pelican Town, so he figured you’d be the main subject of gossip for a few weeks before ultimately blending into the background of his life just like everyone else. He also didn’t think you’d last long living here. You were part of the corporate rat race he so detests and you didn’t grow up in the valley. It’s a hard place to get used to after living somewhere more populated.  

Against all odds  though - you did stay. And you’ve integrated yourself so much with the people living—himself included here it kind of baffles him. He doesn’t entirely remember what it was like before you came here.   

Sebastian couldn’t have predicted in a million years that that stupid help wanted sign in front of Pierre’s store would start actually being useful. But lo and behold, at least three times a week he finds you with full pockets - jogging after whomever last posted to give them what they need. And you do that without anyone really asking you too.  

You’re just so… helpful. And social in a way he can’t describe. Everyone in town has nothing but nice things to say about you. You’ve given everyone a gift on their birthday thus far. You’re keeping the entire economy afloat with your farm right now and you regularly clear those mines out for monsters. You even paid for the bus to get repaired, too - so now it’s up and running again.  

You’re full of surprises. And easy to adore, himself included.  

What surprises him most often is how easy it is for him to be around you. He doesn’t turn you away even when you visit his room sharply at 9am and hover over him in bed. He doesn’t get even the slightest bit upset when you have a mundane and disruptive conversation hours before he usually gets up. He keeps everything you’ve ever gifted him, and he often thinks of inviting you to things he does with his friends. He smiles when he sees you running around doing some chore, frantic and covered in muck - all mess and sunlight.  

You’re… nice. Honest, hard-working, and cheerful. Kind. Sincere in wanting to know him. You should completely and utterly exhaust him given those are your main characteristics. You should be someone he’s simply fundamentally incompatible with. 

But more than anything, you’re thoughtful. And it disarms him so utterly he feels overwhelmed by the thought. From the start, you put in a lot of effort into maintaining connections and he was no different. It’s just impacted him so much more than he thought it would. If he lets himself think too far on it, he really won’t stop thinking about you.  

To the point he’s been picturing what it’s like to live on the farm.  He’s in deep. 

Despite all of your idiosyncrasies, you really seem to give a shit about things in a way that feels utterly foreign to him. This extends to anything and everything. It extends to Sebastian, and it shows in the ways you don’t undermine him. Little things. You take his work seriously and apologize for disturbing him, you don’t immediately take the side of his family when he talks about them despite being friends with them too, you don’t interrogate him about what he is or is not comfortable with. You show up and linger in his life, and then you go off to your own thing. 

More and more, he gets the urge to stop you before you go. It’s too much. It makes him act…lame and he’s not too fond of it. He’s never really felt this strongly about anyone before and he’s a little bit of a wreck about what it does to him. So it’s not that he doesn’t want to date you, but more that he does so bad he doesn’t even want to admit it.  

 But well.. He isn’t sure it’s even working. As soon as you walk into a room it’s like— 

He’s lost in his thoughts for a while, only to get pulled out of them by some big commotion happening in the main part of the saloon.  

“Ah, you’re here. What perfect timing kid,”   

Shit. Shit  

Only somewhat obscured by the distance and wall separating their space from the bar - Sebastian catches a glimpse of you and feels something uncomfortably warm in his chest. His friends both make little oooh sounds, no doubt planning to do something stupid. He should intervene but he gets too caught up in pretending he doesn’t see you. Turning away stiffly, he pretends to be looking at something else while he listens on your conversation. It’s not too hard to hear, anyway.  

“Hi, Pam.” He can practically hear the smile in your voice. “Here’s your ale. Managed to grow a hops plant indoors this season so the brew is pretty fresh. It’s strong, fair warning.”  

A beat of muffle conversations follows up with a a loud sigh. “That’s exactly what I needed. Your pretty good with your liquor and spirits, huh kid? Thanks for the drink. Here’s what I owe ya.”  

“Selling alcohol under the table at my establishment? Tsk tsk.” Gus adds.  

It’s at this point Sebastian lets himself look at you properly. You lean with your elbows against the counter. You look a mess like usual, but you’ve got on a cowboy hat today that Sebastian finds ridiculously cute. You smile at Gus sheepishly.  

“Sorry. Can I buy myself a drink to make up for it?” You offer.  

“I’ll do you one better and give it to you on the house.”  

“Aw, what? Can’t let you do that Gus.”  

“You can and you will. You’re always looking out for everyone. Here, it’s a nice imported IPA. Nice and cold. Have a drink and go relax. Some of your friends are here too tonight I think.”  

“Oh?”  

On cue, you turn your head to the group of them. When you and Sebastian meet eyes, you brighten visbly - all smiles. He’s so caught up in it, he doesn’t even catch Sam next to him until he throw an arm around his shoulder and waves you over.  

You weave through the tables until you cross the threshold of their little hide-out. Abigail greets you first with a short sidehug before you go over to him and Sam.  

“Hey,”  

“Hi Sam.” You pause, tilting your head. “Did you cut your hair? It’s shorter than usual.”  

Sam beams. “I did! And you’re the first one to notice, other than my mom. Goes to show who my real friends are,”  

Sebastian nudges him, pulling away from his grip. “I see enough of your face everyday. There’s nothing for me to observe.”  

“It looks nice,” You add. Charming and genuine. Sam smiles at you. 

“Thanks,”  

Sebastian is weirdly jealous until you address him in conversation. “Hey to you too Sebastian.”  

His heart thumps. This is ridiculous. He swallows. “Hey. Uh. How have you been?”  

Awkward. So awkward. You smile a little and lean on the pool table besides him with your drink, taking a sip. “Good. Busy as usually getting ready for Winter. Renovated our coop recently so I’ve got a whole bunch of baby bunnies I gotta take care of. Went and bought another heater, some extra hay. Just farm stuff. Not very interesting,”  

“I find it interesting,” He replies quickly. You lip twitches in a smile.  

“I’m glad.”  

“Baby bunnies sound so cute,” Abigail adds. Sebastian glances at her as she joins the rest of them. “What else have you got in there?”  

“A little of everything. Chickens, ducks. I’ve got a void chicken too, kinda freaky. Oh and these little dino looking guys.”  

Abigail looks bright eyed. “Would it be like… weird if I asked to go over? I kinda wanna see them?”  

You laugh. “Not at all. I don’t mind. You could honestly go over whenever but it’s hard to navigate the farm if I’m not there, though I’m trying to fix that this upcoming winter.”  

You glance then at Sebastian, eyes almost sparkling. “You should come over sometime, too. You’d like the void chicken I think. And I’ve got a slime hutch.”  

Sebastian sputters at the obvious invitation only barely managing to cover up the shock to his system. You don’t seem put off, but it’s obvious you know what you’re doing. He’s going to explode.  

Abigail and Sam make not-so-subtle eye contact before Sam clears his throat.  

“Well, uh, me and Abi are gonna head out. We’ve got some stuff to catch up on, but there’s still a few hours until the saloon closes so you two should stay here and finish up  our drinks and stuff. Uh… yeah. See you again,”  

Sam nods, quickly rifling for his things. Abigail follows in his foot steps.  

“Mhm, yep. See you,”  

Sam gives him one last encouraging look before turning around and leaving. The two of them scurry off in a blink of an eye, before Sebastian can get a single word in about the situation or tell them to stay. And now he’s alone with you, quietly wondering if it’s as awkward as it feels.  

You’re the one to break the ice. “Do you have anywhere you need to be tomorrow?”  

Sebastian blinks. “Uh no. Not really.”  

“Me either. We should stay back then, for a little while.” You offer with a shrug. “Why not, right?”  

Right. Sebastian is being really chill about this entire interaction. “Right.”  

“I’m glad I got to see you tonight,” You say, out of the blue. Sebastian nearly jumps in his skin at the admission. “I’ve been pretty busy with the growing season ending so I haven’t been you know, able to come by as often. I don’t know if it made a huge difference to you but—“ 

“It did.” He blurts out. Your mouth opens then closes again, a blush crawling up his neck as he tucks his chin in embarrassment. “It was uh, weird for me. I know you’re busy and I like my alone time but I did… miss you.” 

“Yeah?”  

He’s almost too afraid to meet your eyes. When he manages  - you’re smiling fondly, sweetly with a sense of amusement. It rolls off of you in waves and it becomes clear to him in that split second that you don’t really intend to hide how you feel despite him being so hellbent on making sure he does. You’re not hiding that you like him. It feels stupidly warm and fuzzy.  

You look like you’ve been working all day and you smell a little like grass and rain in a way that makes him want to draw that much closer to you. So he does, leaving into your space.  

“Yeah.” He manages, barely getting the words out without being a complete wreck. “It’s new for me.”  

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever they say.” And then, even more sweetly. “I missed you too.”  

Fuck. You’re… fuck.  

Sebastian pretends to wipe something from his face just to cover it and make his blush less obvious. This is embarrassing. He likes you so much and for what.  

There’s a million things he wants to tell you but he can’t find the words for any of them. So he tucks in on himself and wonders how the fuck he would ever go about actually dating you.  

You inch closer to him. Tentative, until your thighs are touching. He doesn’t move away.  

Suddenly, you’re close to him than you’ve ever been. Looking from the corner of your eye, Sebastian turns his head to meet your gaze. You’re an inch apart, and he’s looking at your lips - slightly chapped from the weather. The faint scent of alcohol on your breath makes him dizzy. Your smile is what does him in ultimately. A subtle tug at the corners of your mouth, a little teeth. Something about it precious.  

“Hey,” You mutter.  

“Hm,”  

“Can I kiss you?” 

He responds with leaning forward to do it first. It’s chaste and easy, and he does it because you’ve already taken so many first steps and he should, at least, take this one. So he leans into kiss you and it feels like his whole body is melting. It’s brief and light and he pulls away before it feels like it should be over.  

You part for a breath, a single heartbeat - before your hands go up to cradle the side of his face. You kiss him deeper that time. A real kiss where he can taste you enough to know that you drank - one he would only want to do in the privacy of this confined spaced. He feels you in your entirety  - returns your gesture with a careful hand on your waist that you don’t pull away from.  

And it doesn’t stop. Like neither of you want it too, despite everything else. Despite the fact he’s doing this in the bar of his hometown where everyone will gossip about it without doubt, and despite knowing that  - the drive to kiss you is stronger than his usual sensibilities. So you kiss and kiss and kiss, short presses followed by long, firm ones. A slight brush of tongue, the soft nip of teeth as you tease and tug. All mirth and amusement and fondness and bravery and god he is so into you it’s ridiculous.  

You manage to pull away from each other after a while. His lips are tingly. And there’s a sheepishness to you both that makes it hard for him to look your way.  

“Hey, Sebastian.”  

He clears his throat.  

“Uh. Yeah?”  

“I’m gonna ask you out tomorrow. Properly.”  

He blushes. “…I’d be cool with that.”  

You grin. “Yeah?”   

Shit he’s happy. He is not gonna get a lick of sleep tonight. He smiles a little to himself.  

“Yeah.”  

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts XIII

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

Despite the inital embarrasment of their reunion, Valaena seeks out her brothers and when time comes for Valaena to give birth Aemond is dealt a devestating blow.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Smut, P in V, Semi Public, Reuniting, Mention of Suicide, Time Skip, Pain, Blood, Child Birth, Complications.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 5186

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

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Valaena scrambled to gather the sheets around herself, her face flushed with embarrassment. “Didn’t anyone teach you to knock?” she sputtered; her voice thick with embarrassment.

Aemond howver lay there comfortably, a sly smirk pulling at his lips as he took in Jace and Luke’s mortified expressions.

Both young men quickly raised their hands to shield their faces, horror and embarrassment plain in their eyes.

Jace stammered, “We’re sorry, we didn’t expect—”

Aemond scoffed, his smirk growing wider. “Well, we do share chambers, nephew. What else would you expect us to be doing?” He raised an eyebrow, amusement in his voice. “Surely you have your own wife, so you know what goes on-or at least, I hope you do.”

Jace’s cheeks flushed even redder as he stuttered, “Th-that’s none of your business!”

Valaena lifted a hand, cutting through the rising tension. “Can we have this conversation at a more appropriate time, please? Preferably not while I’m naked and still seated upon my husbands-”

“-What?” asked Aemond feigning innocence.

“Are you seriously getting hard again?” whispered Valaena as she felt Aemond’s cock twitching and throbbing inside of her.

“I-I can’t help it” replied Aemond as he shifted slightly.

Valaena bit her lip to stifle the moan that threatened to spill forth as she felt Aemonds cock brushing against that sensitive spot inside her.

“My love. What’s wrong?” said Aemond smirking.

 Valaena shot him a look, still holding the sheets tightly to her chest. “Please, can you two just- leave,” she managed to say, barely keeping her voice steady.

Jace and Luke backed out of the room in a flurry of mumbled apologies, their faces beet red as they hurried to close the door behind them.

As the door clicked shut, Aemond wasted no time. He sat up swiftly, his hands finding their way to Valaena’s back, pulling her close as he captured her lips in a fierce, unrestrained kiss.

Valaena resisted for a moment but then melted against him, her hands tangling in his silver hair as she kissed him back with equal fervour, all traces of embarrassment and distraction fading away.

Aemond’s gaze darkened with intent as he murmured, “Mine,” his voice low and reverberating, almost like a vow.

Gently but decisively, he manoeuvred Valaena onto her back, until she was lying beneath him.

He moved with practiced ease, resting his weight on one arm so he could look down at her, his silver hair falling like a curtain around his face, framing the intensity in his eye.

Valaena gave him a teasing smile, her hand sliding up his arm as she whispered, “Again?” Her words were playful, yet the glimmer in her eyes mirrored his desire.

“Need to fuck you like this-” mumbled Aemond as he curled his fingers round her thigh and moved her leg around his waist.

Then he bit her over her pulse point. Hard. She cried out and Aemond rumbled in approval at how loud she screamed for him.

“Such a good fucking girl.” His tongue licked where he had just bitten down. “You always make the sweetest sounds for me-”

Aemond loved biting her, he always had.

“Oooohh Aemond” whined Valaena.

“That’s my girl-” as he rocked his own hips into her, making them both hiss. “So, fucking good-all mine”

“I need more” whimpered Valaena.

As his pace picked up, she gripped his shoulders for dear life and moved with him, never taking her eyes from his singular gaze.

“Keep going,” She panted against him. “Just like that-just like that”

“You like that?”

“Yes-yes Aemond” replied Valaena.

“I fucking love you-” moaned Aemond, every thrust of his hips was forcing her further towards the headboard.

“Aemond-Oh, Gods!”

“Gonna spill my seed!-“ He rotated his hips as he spoke, his sweaty forehead against hers.

Valaena scrawled her nails down Aemond’s back hard enough to leave marks making him growl in approval and fuck her harder into the mattress, the headboard banging loudly against the wall.

“Mark me fucking harder” ordered Aemond as Valaena scored her nails down his back again.

“A-Aemond”

“So, fucking good for me-Oh, shit-yes-” moaned Aemond, his hips crashing into hers, babbling to himself and hitting all the right spots for her.

“Aemond I’m close-please-please” begged Valaena. She was so close, just a little more and she would be there.

“If you wasn’t with child already I’d put another babe on you” said Aemond against her lips as his thrusts started to become erratic.

“Aemond, yes-yes” screamed Valaena as her peak exploded.

“FUCK!” roared Aemond, the heat spreading across his abdomen as he exploded, spilling rope after rope of seed inside her.

“Oh shit – Aemond!” shouted Valaena as she clutched Aemond’s shoulders to ride the waves of pleasure that coursed through her body.

Aemond collapsed on top of her, and Valaena hugged his body tight.

“You are mine. Do you hear that?” whispered Aemond against her into her ear. “Everything about you.”

“Yours Aemond. Always yours”

Valaena found her brothers in the library, and they both immediately shot to their feet as she entered.

Luke’s face turned scarlet as he noticed the bite mark on her neck, and he quickly looked away.

“Did you really have to barge into my chambers like that?” Valaena asked.

Jace looked sheepish. “I’m sorry, but when mother sent a raven to Driftmark saying you were alive, we had to see it for ourselves. We couldn’t believe it.”

Valaena arched an eyebrow, a note of surprise in her voice. “Driftmark? What were you doing there?”

Jace looked away before responding. “I reside there now, as it’s heir. Luke didn’t want to stay in the Red Keep, so he’s there too, with Rhaena and their daughter-”

Valaena tilted her head, a new realization dawning on her. “Wait-you’re still the heir to Driftmark? I thought Mother would have named you heir to the Iron Throne”

Jace shook his head. “No. Even after even when we thought you were gone, Mother never named a new heir.”

Valaena’s eyes widened in shock. “Almost six years without officially naming a new heir?”

“Yes, the council kept pressuring her to name a new heir” Luke spoke up, glancing at his sister. “But she’s steadfastly refused.”

Valaena’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But Jace. You’re next in line. It should be you.”

Jace held up a hand. “I don’t want it. I’m content with my life on Driftmark with Baela and Laena”

Luke gave a small shrug. “Don’t look at me—I don’t want it either, you know what I’m like, if I board a ship I get green sick before I’ve even left the harbour”

Valaena looked between them, taken aback. “I honestly thought she would name someone else”

Jace’s expression softened as he looked at her. “She couldn’t bring herself to name a new heir because that would have meant that you were truly gone-even though we had a funeral for you, sometimes she liked to imagine that you were still out there somewhere”

Valaena stared at him, processing his words. “What?”

“She kept you alive in her heart,” Jace continued.

A deep pang of guilt mixed with a strange sense of wonder filled Valaena. “She refused to give up on me-”

Luke nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “Not for a single moment.”

“Most people thought she was crazy,” Jace admitted, his voice low. “The council, the lords of the realm, they all thought she had lost her mind, holding onto this belief that you were still out there somewhere. They called it denial, a womans weakness. They said she was clinging to a dream that would never come true.”

Luke shifted uncomfortably, his hands folding tightly in his lap. “They tried to pressure her into naming a new heir, telling her it was reckless to leave the realm without one. They said that the throne needed a clear successor”

Jace continued, his gaze firm. “But our mother? She refused to be swayed. She couldn’t bring herself to replace you. She couldn’t let go of the idea that one day, you’d return.”

“I bet you thought she’d lost it when you received the raven” said Valaena.

Luke nodded vigorously. “At first, we thought it couldn’t be true.”

“So, you come over here and barge into my chambers” muttered Valaena.

“We had to know if you really was alive” exclaimed Jace.

Valaena crossed her arms, a smirk on her lips. “Well, you certainly could’ve picked a better moment for a reunion.”

Jace laughed, breaking some of the tension. “I’ve really missed you, sister.”

Luke’s face softened, his voice dropping. “We thought we’d lost you forever.”

Valaena sighed, her expression warming as she opened her arms. “Come here-”

Both Jace and Luke moved toward her eagerly, enveloping her in a tight embrace. They stood there, tangled in one another’s arms, a bond reaffirmed.

Luke’s voice was a hushed whisper, filled with awe. “You’re here. You’re really here.”

Valaena smiled, squeezing them tightly. “Yes, I’m here.”

As they pulled back slightly, Jace’s eyes dropped to her stomach, widening as he noticed her rounded belly. “And you’re with child?”

Valaena smiled softly as she stepped back from them, resting a hand on her stomach. “My fourth.”

Luke gasped. “Your fourth?”

Jace grinned. “Gone nearly six years, and already four children? I suppose we know what you and our dear uncle were getting up to when everyone thought you were dead.”

Valaena scowled playfully. “Jacaerys!”

He held up his hands in surrender, laughing. “What?”

Luke, gentler, leaned in. “Tell us about your other children.”

Valaena’s expression softened as she began to describe them. “My oldest is my son, Rhaegar, then I have two daughters—Elaena and Daenys.”

Luke’s eyes lit up. “A nephew and two nieces?”

Valaena nodded with a smile. “Come with me,” she said, leading them out of the library and through the corridors toward Maegor’s Holdfast.

They stopped outside a door where Valaena pressed a finger to her lips, signalling them to be quiet.

Slowly, she opened it, revealing the soft moonlight casting a gentle glow over her sleeping son. “That’s Rhaegar,” she whispered.

Jace and Luke leaned in, their faces melting into smiles as they observed the small silver-haired boy.

Sapphyre, curled protectively beside him, briefly raised his head to curiously eye the newcomers, before he huffed and then settled back down.

“He has a dragon?” Jace whispered, impressed.

Valaena nodded. “He’s called Sapphyre.”

Luke noted, “He’s quite big for a hatchling.”

Valaena just smiled, then quietly closed the door and led them to the next room. Opening it with the same care, she gestured for them to look inside.

“This is Elaena,” she murmured, and then pointed to the cradle. “And here is Daenys.”

“Oh, gods she’s so beautiful” gasped Luke quietly as he gazed at Elaena who was fast asleep with her blankey  firmly in her grasp.

Jace’s gaze softened as he noticed the dark hair of Daenys. “She has your colouring.”

“One of them had to take after me,” Valaena chuckled softly.

“They’re both so wonderful, sister,” Luke said, sincerity evident in his eyes.

“Thank you,” Valaena replied with a warm smile.

Jace’s attention shifted to the small dragons resting near the children. “And they have dragons too?”

Valaena nodded proudly. “Hūra belongs to Elaena, and Valerion to Daenys.”

Luke murmured, “The blood of the dragon runs thick.”

“Indeed, it does,” Valaena agreed, gently ushering her brothers out and closing the door softly behind her.

Jace yawned, stretching. “It’s getting late. Perhaps we should retire for the night and catch up more in the morning.”

Valaena raised an eyebrow. “Good idea. Just remember to knock next time before barging into my chambers.”

Luke let out an embarrassed laugh. “Oh, believe me, I’ll be knocking.”

Aemond stood on the balcony, his gaze fixed on Valaena as she wandered through the gardens with her brothers, Jace and Luke, laughing and talking eagerly.

A flicker of something dark passed over his face as he watched them. Arro approached from behind and paused beside him, observing quietly before breaking the silence.

“Why don’t you join them, my prince?”

Aemond’s eyes remained on Valaena as he replied, his tone edged with disdain. “I have no desire to talk to either of her bastard brothers.”

Arro tilted his head. “You don’t get along with them?”

“No,” Aemond said shortly. “I never really have.”

“Why is that?” Arro asked, genuinely curious.

Aemond’s gaze grew colder. “They used to tease me as a child, constantly making jokes at my expense.” He nodded toward the smaller of the two, who was gesturing animatedly as he spoke to Valaena. “The one talking to her now—Lucerys. He’s the one who carved out my eye.”

Arro’s eyes narrowed. “And he still breathes?”

Aemond let out a humourless laugh. “Not only does he breathe, but he also walked away without punishment.”

Arro’s brow furrowed. “How did it happen?”

Aemond leaned against the railing, his gaze lost in the memory. “It was just after I claimed Vhagar. I felt untouchable, dragon less no longer, I’d managed to claim the largest dragon in the world. Then they set upon me”.

Arro’s eyes darkened as he listened. Aemond’s voice grew colder. “Jace brought the knife, but I managed to disarm him. Then Lucerys picked it up and took my eye.”

Arro looked shocked. “And yet he went unpunished?”

Aemond’s mouth twisted bitterly. “Their mother, Rhaenyra, was my father’s favourite child. He cared more about the insult his grandsons received than about his own son’s suffering. He demanded we apologize—and show good will to one another”

Arro scoffed. “A fool’s notion.”

Aemond let out a low chuckle, his grip tightening on the railing. “So many times, I’ve imagined what it would feel like to take my dagger and hold that little strong bastard down and take his eye as he did mine.”

Arro considered him, impressed. “How do you restrain yourself from doing it?”

Aemond’s expression softened slightly as he looked back at his wife. “Valaena. Only because of my love for her, does her brother still have both of his eyes.”

Arro shook his head, admiring. “You’re a better man than me, my prince. In your place, I’d have carved both his eyes out by now.”

Aemond huffed a laugh, his gaze still following Valaena. “Don’t tempt me.”

Arro studied him a moment, then asked thoughtfully, “And what does Princess Valaena think about it?”

“She hates what Lucerys did to me. But he’s still her brother,” Aemond replied, sighing.

Arro nodded. “She has a big heart, but sometimes family can be the ones who hurt us the most.”

Aemond glanced at him, noting the bitterness in Arro’s tone. “You speak as if you have experience in such matters.”

Arro’s jaw tightened as he nodded. “My father was a very cruel man. He’d often hurt my mother, sometimes to the point she couldn’t bear it anymore and eventually, she took her own life.”

Aemond placed a hand on Arro’s shoulder, a gesture of sympathy. “I’m sorry, Arro.”

Arro nodded, his expression softening as he looked down. “I may not have been able to protect her then, but when I became a man, I gave her vengeance.”

Aemond’s hand tightened on Arro’s shoulder, a hint of respect in his gaze. “What was her name?”

A faint smile touched Arro’s lips. “Sura.”

Aemond nodded solemnly. “A beautiful name.”

“Thank you, my prince” Arro replied, gratitude evident in his eyes.

They stood in silence, side by side, bound by unspoken understanding and the weight of scars—old and new.

Months after Valaena and Aemond had returned and begun reestablishing themselves within the family, Rhaenyra announced plans for a grand celebration to be held at the Red Keep.

Not only would it honour their return, but it would also publicly reaffirm Valaena as heir to the Iron Throne and name Rhaegar as her successor.

Preparations for the festivities brought excitement to many—and tension to others.

As the strain finally boiled over one afternoon when Luke proposed a potential betrothal between his eldest daughter, Rhaella, and Rhaegar. Aemond's response was immediate and absolute.

“No,” he said flatly, his tone icy.

Luke raised an eyebrow. “What reason could you have to refuse my daughter? She has Targaryen and Velaryon blood-”

Aemond crossed his arms, glaring. “Because I do not wish to have my son tied to anyone from your line.”

Luke's face flushed with anger. “You mean to say my blood isn’t worthy? How dare you insult my daughter—”

Aemond took a step forward, his eye flashing with contempt. “If you think I’ll allow my son to marry the daughter of the whelp who left me scarred, then you are delusional.”

Harsh words were exchanged as the resentment came rushing to the surface. Insults turned quickly to raised voices, and before anyone could intervene, Aemond and Luke were upon each other, fists flying.

Aemond’s strength and focus quickly overwhelmed Luke, and he delivered a hard blow to his nose, causing it to break with a sickening crunch.

Guards and family rushed in to separate the two, pulling Aemond back as Luke, blood streaming from his nose, shot him a furious look.

Rhaenyra, who had arrived on the scene, looked between them with a mixture of anger and disappointment.

Valaena stepped forward, trying to ease the tension. “Perhaps we should wait until Rhaegar is older before we start discussing any potential matches. There’s no need to rush, and he should have a say in his future.”

The Queen nodded, calming at her daughter’s suggestion. “Very well,” Rhaenyra said, a hint of firmness still in her voice. “The matter of Rhaegar’s future bride will be left to another time. But as for the two of you,” she added, looking sternly between Aemond and Luke, “you will keep your distance from each other.”

Though both men gave a begrudging nod, they exchanged one last heated glance.

The throne room was alive with a rare grandeur, bustling with lords and ladies from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms, all gathered in honour of Valaena’s return and to reaffirm her as Rhaenyra’s heir.

Valaena stood proudly beside her mother, her expression serene as she clutched Rhaegar’s small hand.

Her son’s eyes, bright and curious, wandered over the crowd, while Aemond’s cool gaze swept protectively over his family.

Rhaenyra raised her hands, and the throne room hushed as she began to speak, her voice resounding with both pride and authority.

“Today, we celebrate the return of my daughter, Princess Valaena, and her husband Prince Aemond to our House. Let it be known to all that Princess Valaena is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, and that her son, Prince Rhaegar, will one day wear the crown as King.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, banners lifted high as people bowed and bent their knees, showing loyalty to their Queen and her line.

Valaena glanced down at Rhaegar, who clutched her hand tighter, wide-eyed and thrilled by the sea of people honouring him.

But as the ceremony continued, Valaena felt a dull ache stirring low in her stomach, a sensation she’d initially dismissed as nerves.

Yet it grew with each passing moment, blossoming into something sharper and more insistent.

She winced, pressing a hand lightly against her belly, and Aemond’s gaze flicked toward her with concern, his sharp eye catching the hint of discomfort. He stepped closer, murmuring softly, “Are you well, Valaena?”

“Yes,” she said, though her voice was tight. “I’m fine.”

But as Rhaenyra continued, Valaena fought to keep her expression calm, her fingers clenching around Rhaegar’s hand as the ache became sharper, radiating from her lower back in waves.

Finally, Rhaenyra turned to her, her eyes bright with pride, beckoning her to step forward.

With a deep breath, Valaena nodded and released Rhaegar’s hand, stepping forward to accept her mother’s blessing as heir before all the realm.

She took one steadying breath, standing straight and proud, when suddenly the ache turned into a sharper, more insistent pain that left her breathless.

Helaena, who had been silent and watchful, stepped forward, her violet eyes going distant as she muttered, “White stained with crimson-”

Aemond, turned sharply to Helaena, confused. “What?” he asked, a trace of worry crossing his features.

Helaena took his hand, her expression sorrowful as she murmured, “I’m so sorry brother-”

At that moment, Valaena let out a pained whimper, as she clutched her stomach, gasping, “The babe-the babe is coming!”

Aemond’s face paled as he looked from Helaena to Valaena, whose breaths were now coming in shallow, laboured gasps.

Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around her, steadying her as her knees began to tremble.

Rhaegar’s wide eyes darted between his mother and father, clearly unsettled by the sudden shift.

Rhaenyra quickly took control, motioning to the guards and advisors. “Clear the hall! Make way!” Her voice rang out, and the bustling lords and ladies quickly quieted, eyes widening as they watched the princess double over in pain.

Aemond swept Valaena up into his arms, the protective fury in his eye telling everyone to keep their distance as he carried her through the throne room.

Rhaenyra followed close behind, barking orders for grand Maester Gerardys and the midwives to be summoned at once.

As they moved briskly through the corridors, Valaena clung to Aemond, her breath ragged, trying to steady herself as the pain grew sharper.

Between contractions, she looked up at him, her face flushed with both agony and determination.

“Aemond it’s early-” she whispered, worry lacing her voice.

He brushed a strand of hair from her damp forehead, his voice soft but fiercely resolute. “I’m here, Valaena. I won’t leave your side. We’ll get through this, I swear it.”

When they reached her chambers, the midwives and Gerardys were already prepared, bustling around as they readied her bed.

Gently, Aemond placed her down, settling beside her and taking her hand as Rhaenyra took her other side.

As the pain intensified, Valaena’s grip on Aemond’s hand tightened, but his gaze never wavered.

He leaned close, murmuring words of encouragement, determined to be her anchor as the hours stretched on, and the labour intensified.

Valaena writhed, her body nearly giving in from exhaustion as labour dragged on with a relentless intensity.

Each wave of pain was stronger than the last, and her energy waned, but her determination refused to give out.

The pain was overwhelming, and when Gerardys announced that the babe was stuck, her heart sank.

"I will not have my daughter butchered," Rhaenyra’s voice cut through the room, fierce and unyielding.

Gerardys quickly shook his head. “I’m not suggesting such a thing, Your Grace. But perhaps if the princess could walk, it might encourage the babe to move,” he said gently.

Rhaenyra nodded and leaned close to Valaena, stroking her sweat-dampened hair. “Sweet girl, you need to try and walk.”

Valaena whimpered, her voice strained. “I-I don’t think I can-”

Aemond slipped his arm around her, his voice firm yet full of care. “Come on, we’ll help you.” He lifted her gently, wrapping her against him as she clung to his arm, while Rhaenyra took her other side.

Step by painful step, Valaena leaned into them, every inch of movement an ordeal.

Each new contraction made her shudder, and suddenly, she doubled over, a scream tearing from her throat. “I can feel the babe-it’s coming!”

Gerardys, already alert, waved them back to the bed. “Quickly, lay her down!”

With great care, they helped Valaena back onto the bed as Gerardys moved to examine her. He looked up with a glimmer of relief.

“The babe has moved,” he announced. “I can see the head.”

Aemond moved closer as he took a quick look between her legs, his voice full of wonder. “The babe has silver hair.”

Valaena huffed weakly, managing a slight smile. “Not-another one-”

Aemond took her hand and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “You’re doing wonderfully, love,” he murmured, his gaze steady and reassuring.

Rhaenyra held Valaena’s other hand tightly, her face a mixture of pride and concern. “Now, push, sweet girl.”

Taking a deep breath, Valaena bore down, her scream echoing around the room as the effort drained what little strength she had left.

Finally, she sagged back onto the bed, shaking her head. “I-I can’t do it anymore.”

Aemond exchanged a worried look with Rhaenyra, and he leaned closer to Valaena, brushing her damp hair from her face. His voice softened as he reminded her, “You are blood of the dragon. You can do this.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she whispered, “I can’t-”

Gazing into her eyes, Aemond took her hand firmly and spoke with quiet conviction, “Do you remember the vows we spoke in our place?”

She gasped, her breath catching as she whispered, “Y-Yes-I do-”

Aemond’s voice dropped to a gentle murmur as he began, “-Hen lanoti ānogar, Va sȳndroti vaedroma, Mēro perzot gīhoti, Elēdroma āirza sīr, Izulī amapā perzi.” (Blood of two, joined as one, Ghostly flame and song of shadows, Two hearts as embers).

With a shuddering breath, Valaena joined him, her voice strained but full of resolve. “P-Prumī l-lanti sēteksi, Hen jenȳ māzīlarion, Qēlossa ozundesi, Syndroro ono jēdo, Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi.” (Forged in fourteen fires, A future promised in glass, The stars stand witness, The vow spoken through time, Of darkness and light).

Aemond smiled at her, a fierce pride shining in his eye. “Come on, love. Now push.”

Drawing strength from his words, Valaena gritted her teeth and pushed with every last reserve of her strength.

Her cries of pain filled the room, and then, at last, a wet squelch broke the silence, followed by the strong, loud cries of a newborn.

The maester’s voice rang out joyfully. “A boy.”

Valaena fell back, her body limp, but her face lit with a mixture of relief and joy as she looked at Aemond. His eye was alight with pride, and he leaned down, kissing her forehead once more.

“You did it,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he brushed the tears from her cheek.

The joy that had filled the room only moments ago shattered when Valaena’s body suddenly convulsed, blood flooding the sheets beneath her.

Aemond’s heart stilled, his voice tight with horror as he gasped, “W-What’s going on?”

Gerardys thrust the crying babe into the arms of a nearby midwife and desperately worked to stanch the bleeding.

But Valaena’s face grew pale, her grip on Rhaenyra’s hand slackened, her breaths shallowing as her eyes rolled back.

“No,” Aemond whispered, stepping closer, panic spilling into his words. “No, Valaena. Don’t close your eyes!”

But Valaena didn’t respond. Her body went limp, and she lay unresponsive as Gerardys called for the others to clear the room, ushering Aemond and Rhaenyra out as he battled to save her life.

Outside, the minutes crept by with agonizing slowness. Aemond clenched his fists, feeling helpless, his every nerve frayed.

Rhaenyra, paced the corridor, twisting her rings as if the motion could chase away the growing fear in her eyes.

Finally, the door creaked open, and Gerardys appeared, dishevelled and splattered with blood.

“My Prince,” he began, his voice weary.

“Is-Is Valaena all right?” Aemond demanded, fear clawing at him.

“She’s Alive. I managed to stop the bleeding—”

“But?” Aemond’s voice broke as his heartbeat thundered in his chest.

Gerardys’ face softened with sorrow. “The traumatic birth and heavy blood loss has caused Princess Valaena to slip into a coma.”

Rhaenyra let out a strangled sob, pressing a hand to her mouth.

Aemond’s mind reeled. “W-What-What does that mean?”

“Sometimes, when the body endures extreme trauma, it may enter a state of deep unconsciousness—called a coma.” Gerardys paused, hesitant. “How long it will last, I cannot say. It may be days, weeks, or perhaps even longer. It depends entirely on how her body can heal.”

“So-she’s asleep?”

“In a way, yes,” Gerardys replied gently, “but the longer she remains unresponsive, the less likely it is that she will ever wake.”

Aemond’s breath shuddered. “N-Never wake. She’s just given birth to our son; we have other children. How am I supposed to cope without her?” Tears streamed down his face as his voice broke.

“I’m truly sorry, my Prince,” Gerardys murmured.

Aemond swallowed, clinging to the faintest hope. “C-Can I see her?”

Gerardys nodded and moved aside to allow Aemond to enter their chambers.

Inside, fresh bedding had been laid, and Valaena was reclined in a clean shift, her dark hair brushed back.

Her face was peaceful, as if she were only sleeping, though her skin was a ghastly pale, and her breathing was shallow.

Aemond collapsed at her bedside, taking her hand in his own, pressing it to his forehead as he broke down.

“Please, Valaena,” he whispered through choked sobs. “Please, don’t leave me.”

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra had retreated to the hallway, her heart aching as she leaned against the wall, whispering to herself in despair.

“You gave her back to me, please, don’t take her away again. I can’t lose her again.” She held a hand to her chest as she felt her composure begin to crumble.

In the silence, she felt strong arms wrap around her. Daemon’s familiar warmth enveloped her as she looked up, her tears spilling over.

“Not again, Daemon,” she sobbed, pressing her face into his shoulder. “I can’t do this again.”

Daemon stroked her back, his voice calm and steady. “Shh. It’ll be all right”

Daemon opened the door, his heart heavy as he stepped into the dimly lit chamber. His gaze fell on Aemond, who knelt beside Valaena’s bedside, clutching her pale, motionless hand.

Aemond’s shoulders shook, his voice soft and pleading as he pressed his forehead to her hand.

“Please, baby,” he choked, his words broken. “Please, come back to me.  I-I can’t do this without you.” The tears streamed down his face. “We were supposed to die together, remember? Y-You promised me-that we would grow old and die at the exact same moment, holding hands-”

Daemon’s throat tightened, tears blurring his own vision as he took in Valaena’s still form. She looked so peaceful, as though she were merely asleep, but her face was pale, her body unmoving.

He hesitated, his heart aching as he reached out, his hand hovering above Aemond’s shoulder before finally resting there with a gentle squeeze.

Aemond looked up at him, his one eye red-rimmed and filled with despair.

He gazed at Daemon, and then, as though breaking, lurched forward, wrapping his arms around him as he sobbed, the grief pouring out in heaving, shuddering gasps.

Daemon, momentarily shocked, felt his own heart give way. He tightened his arms around Aemond, his hand resting on the back of Aemond’s head as he held him close.

Words escaped him; all he could do was let Aemond cry, his own tears slipping silently down his cheeks as he held the man who was, in that moment, no prince, nor rival, but simply a husband fearing the loss of his love.

Together, they knelt at Valaena’s side, united in the quiet grief and hope that she would come back to them.

TBC.

[mythicalmaven]

Beyond Boundaries - Oscar Piastri (THIRTEEN)

A very angsty chapter but with a good ending! whoops! The positive will return, no worries! <3

Masterlist ↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!norris!reader ↳word count: 4,3K ↳chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, ↳chapter warnings: friends to lovers, brothers teammate trope, talking about feelings, crying, realizations, angst (but with a happy ending)

↳series summary: Since Oscar joined McLaren as your brother’s teammate, you two have quickly become best friends. Recently promoted to be Oscar’s physiotherapist, you both relish the opportunity to spend more time together. However, as the new role brings you closer, you both realize you might be feeling more a little more for each other than just friendship

“OSCAR JACK PIASTRI!” Lando’s voice rang through the hall as he barged into Oscar’s hotel room, eyes blazing with barely contained rage. “YOU ARE SO DEAD!”

Oscar, hunched over his suitcase, froze and looked up, bewildered. He could tell immediately that Lando was beyond furious, but he couldn’t fathom what had set him off.

“Lando, what the hell are you talking about?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed, scratching the back of his neck in confusion.

Oscar had just arrived back after qualifying, planning to freshen up before heading over to your room, as he did every race weekend. He’d been thinking about you the entire way back, looking forward to unwinding together, the familiarity of those private moments giving him a sense of calm after the intensity of the day. But now, standing here, all he could do was rack his brain, trying to figure out what could have provoked Lando like this.

Lando’s fists clenched, the knuckles going white as he glared at Oscar with pure disgust. He slammed the door behind him, sending a tremor through the room. “Don’t play dumb with me, Oscar. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Oscar’s face twisted in confusion, his mind whirling. Was this some bizarre prank? Lando was known for his sense of humor, but this felt... different. More intense. More real. Slowly, he got up from his crouched position and perched himself on the edge of the bed, his voice calm but uncertain. “Lando, I seriously have no clue what’s going on. Did I do something wrong?”

Lando let out a humorless laugh, practically spitting the air out in disbelief. “Are you actually this clueless, or are you just lying straight to my face right now?”

Oscar’s patience was wearing thin. “Lando, for the last time, what is going on?” he demanded, voice rising as frustration bled into his tone.

Lando’s face twisted with anger, and he kicked the door behind him, a loud bang reverberating through the room. “Jesus Christ, Oscar, you’re a fucking asshole.” His eyes flashed as he took a step closer, his voice dripping with disdain. “Maybe next time, don’t lie to my sister about your so-called ‘feelings’ for her if you plan on sticking your tongue down someone else’s throat behind her back.”

Oscar’s heart stopped, his face going pale. “Lando,” he began, trying to keep his voice steady, “What are you talking about? I had to kiss her on the cheek, nothing more. You knew about that—you know it meant nothing.”

But Lando’s expression only grew darker. “Oh, so now you’re not just an asshole; now you’re a liar too. I’m not talking about that.”

Oscar’s stomach twisted. He had no idea what Lando was getting at, but a cold unease settled over him. “What are you going on about, then?”

“If you were trying to hide your little escapade with that attention-seeking bitch, maybe next time you should close the damn door of your driver’s room before deciding to shove your tongue down her throat.”

Oscar’s face drained of color, realization finally sinking in. “Oh god, did you see that?” He stammered, starting to explain, but Lando cut him off sharply.

“I didn’t,” he hissed, eyes blazing, “but she did.”

Oscar’s heart shattered, his voice catching. “I promise, Lando, it’s not what it looked like.”

Lando’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “Yeah, that’s what they all say.” His fists clenched tighter, his voice deadly quiet. “You’d better have a damn good explanation for this, Oscar. Because if you don’t—and I mean it—if you even think of stepping near her again, I swear to god, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Oscar was left in stunned silence as Lando spat the words at him, guilt and regret washing over him like a tidal wave. His mind flickered back to what had happened earlier, replaying each moment with increasing dread.

*flashback to earlier*

Oscar had been in his driver’s room, unwinding after the high of qualifying, hoping to cool down before meeting up with you. Ava had followed him in, chattering on about the race and the PR obligations they’d fulfilled. They shared a laugh about the awkward peck on the cheek they’d had to perform for the cameras, the faint taste of staged affection still lingering.

“You looked so stiff out there, Oscar,” Ava teased, smirking. “You know, if we don’t make it look real, they’re going to know. We should really practice if we want people to buy it.”

Oscar tensed, shifting uncomfortably. “I think we’re fine, Ava. It’s just PR. We’re not meant to look that serious anyway.”

She rolled her eyes, brushing off his hesitation. “Come on, Oscar. Don’t be so uptight. This is for show. It doesn’t mean anything.” Her voice softened, and she took a step closer, her eyes glittering. “Let me teach you a few tricks. Just… trust me.”

He backed away slightly, eyeing the door. “This really isn’t a good idea, Ava. It could easily go too far.”

But Ava seemed determined, giving him a knowing smile as she leaned in and pecked him lightly on the lips, her eyes flickering toward the door. Oscar felt his stomach clench, a mix of unease and annoyance. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want her. He was only doing this entire act to protect you from unwanted scrutiny and questions.

“See?” she murmured, stepping closer still, her fingers brushing his cheek. “It’s not so bad. A bit of practice never hurt anyone.”

Before he could protest, she was kissing him again, her arms winding around his neck as she pulled him in closer. He hesitated, feeling every fiber of his being rejecting this, but her hand slid around to the back of his neck, urging him to deepen the kiss. Uncertain, he felt her hand snake up into his hair, tugging lightly as she pressed closer, the intensity escalating.

Oscar was caught off guard, feeling her press her hips into his, guiding his hands to rest on her waist. He’d barely noticed the way her eyes darted toward the door, a glint of mischief flashing in them as if she knew someone was watching.

He froze, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of discomfort, his mind flooded with the realization of how much he didn’t want any of this. Summoning all the strength he had, he pushed her away, breaking the kiss and stepping back, his face flushed with frustration and embarrassment.

“Ava, this isn’t right,” he muttered, his voice strained. “I’m not comfortable with this at all. This isn’t what I signed up for.”

She smirked, feigning innocence. “Oh, really? You didn’t seem uncomfortable a second ago.”

He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to snap back. “I’m doing this PR stunt for the sake of appearances. To protect someone I care about. But I’m not going to pretend that you and I…" he said, gesturing his finger in her direction and then back to himself "are anything real, because it's anything but.” He gestured to the door, his voice quiet but firm. “Please. Just leave.”

She shrugged, her smirk lingering as she made her way out, leaving him alone in the room, a strange mix of relief and dread pooling in his stomach.

*end of flashback*

The memory dissolved, and Oscar found himself back in the awkward quiet of his hotel room, his heart pounding in his chest as Lando’s words echoed in his mind. You’d seen it. You’d seen everything.

Oscar’s stomach twisted violently, leaving him feeling nauseated and weak. His mind was a churning mess, every second replaying the scene, the look on Ava’s face, the moment he’d seen her eyes flick toward the door. That sickening realization that she had known. And worse, that you had seen it all. It was as if the ground had been ripped out from under him; his legs felt unsteady, his heart beating erratically, each thud filling him with a helpless dread.

Lando looked down at him, his expression hard and unyielding, arms crossed tightly over his chest. There was no pity in his stare, only barely controlled rage mixed with something that might have been desperation. Lando’s voice was low, but the intensity cut through the air like a knife. “I don’t know if what you’re saying is true, Oscar, or if you’re just a damn good liar,” he said. “But if you’re serious about this, if you really care about her, you’d better get your ass over there and fix this. Because I don't ever wanna see that look on her face, ever again.”

Lando’s words struck hard, each one landing like a punch. The warning wasn’t just a threat; it was a declaration, a fierce brotherly loyalty that Oscar knew was unwavering. The way Lando looked at him, with such disdain mixed with pain, it cut Oscar to his core.

“If I find out you’re lying,” Lando continued, his jaw clenched, “I will make sure you lose that seat at McLaren. I’ll make it my mission, Oscar. You know how much my sister means to me.” He shook his head, an angered exhale escaping him. “I warned you about hurting her.”

Oscar couldn’t hold back any longer. His voice shook as he forced the words out, raw and desperate. “Lando, I swear to you, I’m telling the truth.” His hands clenched at his sides as he looked down, feeling his chest tighten painfully. “This is… it’s such a horrible misunderstanding. I never wanted any of this to happen.”

Emotion welled up inside him, a mix of fear, shame, and regret, and he felt his throat close up, his vision blurring. His breath grew uneven, and despite himself, a tear slid down his cheek. Then another, until he could feel the hot, shameful trail of them spilling freely, powerless to stop.

Lando’s expression softened slightly as he watched Oscar crumble before him, the fight momentarily leaving his own features as he absorbed the depth of Oscar’s remorse. He looked away for a moment, as if weighing his options, and then his voice came, gruff but more measured. “Then you need to go to her,” he said quietly. “Go to her, now. She’s going to be devastated. If you’re telling the truth, you can fix this. But you’d better go now.”

Oscar swallowed hard, nodding. He was already reaching for his jacket, his heart still pounding but with a sense of urgency to repair the damage. He couldn’t bear the thought of you feeling hurt, betrayed. The very thought twisted the knife in his gut, driving him forward.

“One more thing.” Lando’s voice stopped him in his tracks, and Oscar turned back to see him standing firm, his eyes cold again. “This PR thing—it’s making things worse. If you really want a future with her, end it. Because if this ever happens again, you’re going to lose her. And you’re going to lose a hell of a lot more.”

Oscar met his gaze, giving a solemn nod. “You’re right. I’ll stop it. I can’t… I can’t put her through this.” His voice was barely a whisper, but the conviction was there.

Lando held his gaze a beat longer, then sighed, giving a slight nod of grudging acceptance. “Go fix this, Oscar. And don’t make me regret trusting you.”

⁺⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺ ⋆⁺

After spending time with Lando, letting yourself unload the heartbreak and confusion, you’d assured him you’d be alright eventually—that you just needed some time alone. Retreating to your hotel room, you tried desperately to hold yourself together, to avoid being swallowed whole by the storm of emotions that seemed intent on drowning you. But the harder you tried, the more impossible it felt.

You caught your reflection in the bathroom mirror, and the sight was sobering. Your eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with smudged mascara that had streaked down your cheeks in uneven, telltale lines. You looked broken, more raw and vulnerable than you could remember feeling in a long time. The weight of it settled heavily, pressing down on you with each passing second.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Startled, you wiped your face quickly, taking a deep, steadying breath before walking over to the door. You didn’t open it, unwilling to let anyone see you like this. “Lando,” you called out, your voice strained, “I told you I’m fine. Just… just go.”

But instead of your brother’s familiar voice, you heard the voice you least expected—and least wanted to hear.

“Y/N, it’s me,” Oscar’s voice was soft, rough around the edges. You froze, feeling your heart twist painfully at the sound of him. Every part of you wanted to sink against the door, to open it, to confront him. But instead, you stiffened, the hurt quickly filling the space where vulnerability once lingered.

“Just leave me alone,” you managed, barely able to keep the tremor out of your voice.

“Please, baby,” Oscar’s voice broke on the word, thick with desperation. “Please, open the door. Let me explain. It’s all… it’s all a big misunderstanding.”

A wave of emotion washed over you, and your chest tightened as you sank slowly to the floor, resting your back against the door as you fought to keep your voice steady. “There’s nothing to explain, Oscar. I was there. I saw it,” you whispered, pulling your knees up to your chest and burying your face between them, as if trying to block out the memory of it.

“You don’t get it, Y/N,” he pressed, his voice breaking again. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

You let out a bitter laugh, muffled as you pressed your head against your knees. “Oscar,” you mumbled, voice hollow, “You had your tongue down her throat. There wasn’t any press around, no cameras to put on a show for. You can’t call it anything but what it was.” Your voice was so quiet, almost fragile, just loud enough for him to hear through the door. “Besides… It's not like you owe me anything. We were never exclusive. I’m not your girlfriend.” You swallowed hard, the words cutting deep. “And considering what I saw, it’s obvious you don’t want that either."

There was a long pause, the silence stretching between you two, heavy and painful. You could feel him on the other side of the door, his presence almost palpable, and it took everything in you not to reach for the handle. But your heart was guarded, waiting, hesitant to give in so easily.

The silence was broken by a ragged, unsteady breath, and then you heard him sink down to the floor on the other side of the door, mirroring you, with only the cold, impersonal wood between you.

“Please… please don’t say that,” he whispered, his voice barely holding together. “I know I don’t deserve for you to listen to me right now, but it wasn’t what you think. It wasn’t real.” His voice cracked, and you could hear the tremor in his words, the strain of holding back tears. “Ava, she… she forced it. I didn’t want it, I didn’t—I pushed her away.” His words were stumbling, broken by emotion, and you could feel his desperation as he tried to explain himself, to make you see the truth he was so desperate for you to understand.

You stayed silent, torn between wanting to believe him and the vivid memory of what you had seen. Part of you, the part that had loved and trusted him, wanted to believe every word. But another part, the one that had been hurt, was afraid to trust again, afraid to be vulnerable. You felt your throat tighten, your hands curling into fists as you struggled to hold back your own tears, feeling them dry on your cheeks as you pressed yourself harder against the door.

He paused, gathering himself before continuing, his voice raw with honesty and regret. “She kept… pushing it, saying we needed to make it look real enough for people to believe it. She’d go on about how it would all fall apart if we didn’t act convincing, kept saying we had to practice that stupid kiss.” He let out a shaky breath, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “I told her no, but she just wouldn’t stop pressing, and then she just kissed me"

He took a shaky breath, his words fractured and heavy with guilt. “I-I didn’t want it,” he stammered, his voice thick as he tried to speak through his tears. “I swear… I didn’t want any of it.” His voice cracked, a choked sob escaping as he struggled to keep going, the desperation evident in every trembling syllable.

You heard him shift against the door, his back pressed firmly as if trying to ground himself. “I felt trapped,” he continued, his words punctuated by small, hitched breaths. “Like… like if I didn’t go along with it, I’d ruin everything—the whole stupid plan. And… I didn’t want to drag you into that. I was scared. I didn't want to ruin things for you”

Another tear-choked breath left him, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I… I couldn’t keep doing it. I pushed her away. I told her I couldn’t—” His voice broke, a raw, unsteady exhale filling the silence as he struggled to compose himself. “I told her it was wrong. I told her it was wrong, and I wanted it to stop.”

His voice faded, overcome by a quiet sob that made the door between you feel thin, almost nonexistent. The vulnerability in his tears was unmistakable, and even in the silence, you could feel the weight of his remorse pressing against you.

Oscar’s voice grew softer, pleading. “You don’t have to say anything if… if you don’t want to. But I just need you to know that it wasn’t me. I didn’t want that, any of it.” His voice faltered, but he kept going. “I’m done with this stupid agreement, this entire PR stunt. I’ll quit it—even if it doesn’t mean I get you back. I just… I can’t keep doing this. I love you, Y/N.” His voice dropped, barely more than a whisper, the words raw and honest.

The vulnerability in his voice tugged at something deep inside you, pulling you closer to that fine line between anger and forgiveness. You felt the sincerity of his words, the pain that bled through them, and despite yourself, part of you believed him. But the fear held you back, the hurt silencing the words that you wanted to say.

A silence fell between you, thick with unspoken words and shared pain. You could hear his shaky breathing through the door, and you knew he was crying. The sound wrenched at your heart, stirring a sadness that mixed with your own, leaving you feeling both hollow and heavy, unable to find the words to respond.

Moments later, footsteps echoed down the hallway. You could hear someone approaching, and then a familiar voice—one that made your stomach twist.

“Well, well, Oscar,” Ava’s voice cooed, feigning sympathy. “Is it really worth all this? She’s not worth it, you know.”

Oscar’s shoulders tensed, his breathing growing heavier as he turned to look at her, his eyes flashing with a newfound clarity, a sharpness born of betrayal. He recoiled from her, yanking his shoulder away from her touch, his expression a mixture of disgust and fury. Without a second thought, he rose to his feet, facing her with a look that could have frozen fire.

“You’ve done enough,” he spat, his voice low and filled with a venom you’d never heard before. “You’ve already ruined everything. Leave me alone.”

But Ava merely arched an eyebrow, her smile twisting as if amused by his anger. She opened her mouth, perhaps to retort, but Oscar didn’t give her a chance.

“Just… stay the hell away from me.” His voice was louder now, strong and unwavering, the raw pain of it echoing through the corridor. “I don’t ever want to see you near me again. Not at the track, not anywhere. You hear me?” He took a step back, his voice rising with each word, carrying both fury and anguish. “I’m done with this agreement. Done with you. Done with this entire PR stunt!”

The volume of his voice carried through the door, and even you could hear the finality in it. For a brief moment, the hurt and anger felt a bit lighter, a flicker of hope stirring beneath it all. The words he’d said, the fire in his voice—it felt real.

There was a shuffling of footsteps as Ava moved away, clearly surprised by his outburst. Oscar remained standing in the hallway, staring after her until the corridor grew silent again, empty save for him and the lingering echo of his words.

Slowly, he sank back down, his back pressed against the door again, his breath coming in short, shaky bursts. He didn’t say anything else, but his quiet, broken presence felt closer than words could convey. And though your heart was still bruised, still guarded, you found yourself shifting slightly, pressing your shoulder to the door, closer to where you knew he sat on the other side.

Oscar took a deep, shuddering breath, wiping at his eyes as he sat against the door. You listened to the sounds leaving the Australian's mouth, still pressed against the other side, your heart aching with every tear-choked word he’d spoken. Slowly, as silence settled around you both, you felt him begin to shift, his weight moving as he gathered himself to leave. He exhaled quietly, almost as if he were accepting that this was the end, that he’d done all he could.

The thought of him leaving stirred something urgent within you, a longing that broke through the hurt and fear. Without fully thinking it through, you reached for the handle. Just as Oscar rose, taking a few hesitant steps away, you opened the door.

“Oscar,” you whispered, reaching out to grab his arm.

He turned around sharply, his red-rimmed eyes wide with surprise as he stared down at you, disbelief mingling with the faintest glimmer of hope. For a long, fragile moment, the two of you simply looked at each other, the air thick with everything unsaid, every apology, every promise, every feeling that had built up over months. The intensity of his gaze, softened by the tears still brimming in his eyes, filled you with warmth, melting away the last of your hesitation.

You took a shaky breath, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I… I love you too, Oscar.”

The words seemed to break something within him. His face crumpled, a fresh tear slipping down his cheek as he reached out, cupping your face in his hands as if you were something precious, fragile, something he couldn’t bear to let slip away. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping away the last remnants of your tears, his gaze so full of tenderness and vulnerability that it took your breath away.

And then, without another word, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours with a quiet desperation, a raw need that spoke of every moment of anguish, of every ounce of longing he’d carried for you. His lips were soft but insistent, moving with a careful, almost reverent passion, as if he were pouring everything he felt into this one kiss. You could feel the slight tremble in his hands, the way his fingers pressed gently but firmly against your skin, grounding himself in your warmth.

The kiss deepened, slowly, his lips parting as he moved closer, pulling you into him as if he couldn’t bear to be separated by even a breath. His tears mingled with yours, salty and warm, the emotions overwhelming as the kiss became a quiet exchange of love and sorrow, each movement a promise, a silent plea to never let go. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you held him close, grounding yourself in the solid warmth of him.

His tongue brushed lightly against your bottom lip, a gentle request that you answered by parting your lips, allowing him in. As your tongues met, a wave of emotion washed over you both, the kiss growing deeper, more intense, every second drawing you closer, until it felt as though nothing else in the world existed but the two of you. The taste of him, the softness of his lips, the way his breath mingled with yours—it was intoxicating, and you felt yourself melting into him, surrendering fully to the quiet, consuming love that bound you together.

His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss grew needier, more fervent, yet still so achingly tender. Your lips moved together in perfect harmony, slow and deliberate, savoring each touch, each taste, until the world seemed to fade away. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss even further, his tongue caressing yours with a slow, deliberate intimacy that left you breathless. It was as if he was pouring every unsaid word, every unexpressed feeling, into this moment, and you could feel it in every movement, every touch, every trembling breath.

After what felt like a lifetime, the two of you slowly broke apart, your foreheads coming to rest against each other as you both tried to catch your breath, your eyes still closed, savoring the warmth and closeness. His hands lingered on your cheeks, his thumbs brushing gently over your skin as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching you, to lose this connection even for a moment.

“Please,” you murmured, your voice soft and full of emotion. “Please be mine.”

Oscar’s breath hitched, and he opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability that took your breath away. “I’ve always been yours,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You managed a small, tearful smile, your fingers brushing over his cheek, wiping away the remnants of his tears. “I mean… for real this time. Be my boyfriend. Please,” you said, your voice a soft, tender plea.

A smile broke through his tears, a pure, radiant joy lighting up his face as he looked at you, his eyes shimmering with a love so deep it was almost overwhelming. “There’s nothing I would love more,” he murmured, his voice soft and trembling with happiness.

And in that moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, you felt the pain and heartache begin to fade, replaced by a quiet, steady warmth, a promise of something real, something lasting.

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

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Taglist @aceyalonso @saachiep81 @landosgirlxoxo @andruuu28 @il0vereadingstuff @silentreader128 @edixttor @sugakookie132 @a-beaverhausen

[rarelyput2gether]

I got to say the leaks… I saw them. I don’t care if I’m spoiled so I didn’t mind watching them but I’m quite upset about the “plot twist”.

Spoilers below 👇🏾 Even though I won’t describe the leaks. I just want to rant about Alastor for a minute

Like what is the point in destroying all of Alastor’s friendships? First, Viv axed Husk and now Rosie seems more transactional.

Coming from a creole descent person, i always had a complicated feeling about Alastor but now I’m annoyed. Not so much the quality of the show but just in general how white writers have and can handle their non-white characters. I don’t mind Alastor being a bastard but she really is destroying a lot of nuisance with her only main POC characters (we’ll see about Niffty). I 100% believe that Alastor was made black because of the controversy but since she did that, Viv needs to handle it with care. I don’t know the races/ethnic background of the writing staff but I’m starting to believe it is 99% white Americans lol

(I’m really annoyed that her and this fandom did not take concerns of black voices seriously on twitter a couple years back, if no one can tell haha)

From a sexuality POV, it is a little problematic. Her aroace character has no relationships outside of transactional ones? That’s wrong dude.

Outside of race, still why? I’ll hold my breath until all of Alastor’s back story is told but I really don’t think it’s a good move. I didn’t like Husk possibly being removed as his friend but fine, whatever. Now Rosie? There’s hardly any build up because the writing is rushed and convoluted in season 1 so it’s not really a good twist. The way it was framed and acted sounded like they were genuinely good friends.

Still gonna have a ball drawing these characters but Vivzie, honey, slow the fuck down and think things through. You got four seasons. You have the views and the fan base; you can ask for more episodes to properly build up your twist. And for the love of god, get more than 1 black person on your staff, get a cultural researcher, take a critical race theory class, or something.

[unnaturalequilibrium]

Capítulo 5

- Mafin rewatch (Sueños de Libertad)

Isidro is possibly the father of the year. Maybe I’ll change my mind when it turns out he’s kind of homophobic, but for now that man gives some seriously good advice. I get why Fina is the way she is, oh not the mood thing, but the stability, the self-assurance. When you have someone holding you up like Isidro does, giving advice like he does, about how the best approach is to find the good sides in yourself and commit to those - I mean, yeah, it’s not hard to understand he could raise a daughter like Fina. It’s also such a nice contrast with the next scene which is the de la Reina’s sitting down for a meal and it’s just the absolute opposite. They too talk about work, but there’s no emotion and there’s no support, it’s more like open hunting season and holds none of the open vulnerability and sincerity of Fina and Isidro's conversation.

Aw man, fuck up my heart with that look Marta gives when Damian talks about how nothing makes him happier than having his kids get married and start families. All that effort she puts in and still she can’t truly make her father proud. That shit is got to sit lodged in her heart like a very jagged piece of broken glass. Also, I think this is the first glimpse of a personality hiding behind the mask.

Jesús and Andrés are two stupid boys fighting over what they think of as toys, women. I do not care for them.

Marta is a sarcastic bitch to Elena and I approve. Okay, second glimpse of a personality, nice. Broken and sarcastic, playing my tune.

That thing Spanish people do with their tongue between their teeth as they pronounce certain sounds, is it just me being gay or is it kind of hot? Granted it’s mostly Marta who is hot when she’s doing it, so I might have answered my own question.

Petra, stop fucking touching Fina! It is not your right to be that handsy and I do not care for it. Keep your scruffy looking nerf-herding paws off of her!

Fina established as a clumsy queen from the getgo tickles me. The way she practically smashed that perfume bottle through the counter as she tried to make a good impression on Marta (and failing) gives her the kind of humanity my otherwise perfect lesbian needs to be nuanced. No one likes a perfect being who looks like her, smiles like her, has that self-assuredness of hers, unless there is also some flaw too her. The fact that this is a character who is so perfect in many ways, but at the same time could probably tear down an entire china shop on her own without the assistance of any bulls - it makes her really loveable. And as a woman who have broken her toe by kicking it into a threshold and given herself a black eye by walking into a doorframe, well I feel represented. Oh, don't get me wrong, there are more flaws to Fina than this, but we're not there yet. One step at a time.

The face of a woman who does not understand the power she holds over other women. And I don't just mean that as a crack at her being lesbian catnip, but the character doesn't actually understand the impact she has on the women around her. She's so used to being compared to the men in her life that I think she doesn't see or understand what a role model she has become for a lot of women, especially those working for her.

Fina being so dismissive when Carmen tells them she’s crying because of Tasio is gold. She just has no time for these fools and I love it. Her silent nod when Carmen says “why bother with a man who doesn’t love you back” - perfection. She is the Oprah gif personified. As I regularly channel my inner Xena while I’m in a professional setting, I think from now on I’ll also try to be channelling my inner Fina when it comes to my personal relationships. As blunt, but reassuring as she is, I think we should all strive to me more like her with our friends and family.

[godjustkys]

stranger things headcanons.. pt 1.

THEME: How the characters deal with your flirtations (friendship stage)

CHARACTERS INCLUDED: mike wheeler, will byers, jane hopper, lucas sinclair, dustin henderson, maxine mayfield, billy hargrove, steve harrington, nancy wheeler, joyce byers, jim hopper, dmitri antonov, eddie munson, jonathan byers.

READER: male reader with a sarcastic, flirty, witty and a slightly cynical personality.

Mike Wheeler;

- dude is either OVER it or does not catch on at all.

- like seriously, your touches would linger for a bit too long and he'd think “oh, that's weird. whatever.”

- you mess up his hair every chance you get and he goes livid.

- “don't touch my hair, man!” is what he'd say and in return you'd just mock him. then a 'playful' fight ensues. he has ruined like five of your shirts now, accidentally tearing it while fighting.

- whenever you say something flirty or out of pocket, you would get two different reactions. The most common one being “ha ha. very funny.” with a sarcastic smile. and the other one.. god, he would just stare at you with a concerned look on his face, not even saying anything.

- for a little while, Mike just stayed oblivious to your 'advances', per say.

- you would do stupid dirty shit behind mike's back when the party's attention was on you just to get some laughs from them. it always worked but it ended up with mike scolding the shit out of you and calling you different names.

- one time at a random party, you invited Mike to dance. He disagreed, of course, and brushed you off with a laugh, but for a moment he almost said yes. Which was very weird for him. Dude was borderline panicking.

- you would call him “mikey” just to piss him off and he hated that nickname with a passion.

- “Mikey-” you'd start, and mike would immediately interrupt you with “get the fuck out of my house. Like right now.” with a blank look on his face while aggressively pointing to the stairs.

Will Byers;

- consider the dude dead. anytime you flirt.

- yeah he's a little slow but when he gets what you meant he goes red in the face.

- like he's blushing so furiously that even the tips of his ears are turning pink.

- he starts fidgeting with his fingers and blinking more profusely, as if that'd help anything.

- “will, you're sleeping with me, right?” you asked once, at a sleepover. He paused. “ay, I'm not opposed to whatever you're thinking but I meant you're sleeping in my room?” you cleared up.

- Oh. oh. “Yeah- yep, I'm sleeping- in your room, yeah.” he responded after swallowing hard. Lucas laughed so hard he started crying.

- he's a sucker for physical contact, truly, so whenever you'd press up against him, or your hands would brush, literally any physicality and he's tensed up, his heart beating out of his chest. It's not that he likes you, but your flirting certainly fucks with his mind. He's not that dense.

- due to your flirty personality, most of the time he would avoid eye contact with you. Because any time your gazes met, you'd wink. And it wasn't that big of a deal, truly, but Will just couldn't help it, it made his breath hitch ever so slightly.

Jane Hopper;

- oh lord. most of the time, she doesn't get it. she just smiles and nods.

- you think it's funny how oblivious she is, it is stupid but hella adorable.

- when it is explained to her, she barely has a reaction to it.

- so in conclusion, she doesn't even answer you. Unless you talk to her about it. But that is literally it. She doesn't deal with your flirtations, you have to deal with her obliviousness.

Lucas Sinclair;

- dude laughs it off when you first start flirting with him. Then he gradually becomes more and more concerned.

- he takes it pretty seriously. But he doesn't care that much, mostly because it doesn't bother him nor does it make him uncomfortable.

- immediately assumed you were into men when you made a slightly over the top joke (not that it was wrong).

- told dustin, will and mike what he thinks. they didn't believe him. Like at all.

- next time you said something flirtatious to Lucas, he didn't waste a second looking over at the others.. who seemed to have taken your flirting as a joke, something you'd say between buddies, you know?

- so after a long long long contemplation, Lucas abruptly asked “are you into dudes?”...

- everyone went dead silent.

- you answered after a beat. “..wasn't that like.. obvious?”

- “WHAT?!”

Dustin Henderson;

- HE FLIRTS BACK.

- you flirt, sure, you give it a hundred percent. Dustin, though? Dude gives it his ALL. Everything and anything he has.

- he sends you air kisses, he loves physical contact, he loves giving gifts (and receiving them), he loves talking. To make it short, he's love in human form.

- any time you guys have playful banter it turns into heavy flirting. Also, you two express appreciation by flirting, too.

- “don't make me kiss you, henderson.”, “dude,” he paused to put on chapstick. After he did, he turned his focus back on you. “i'm ready, kiss me.” he'd say.

- of course, others would whine and complain about it. Especially Steve, god he hated when you two acted like that.

- “i think my ears are bleeding,” would be Steve's response.

- at one point, you and Dustin had a wedding.. a platonic one, but a wedding nonetheless. He's never been happier that he got to be the wife.

- all jokes aside, you always expressed physical affection to Dustin because you knew that he'd be more than willing to receive it. Hugs, forehead kisses, simple gentle gestures, head pats, shoulder pats, etc. etc.

Maxine Mayfield;

- you low-key think she's scary but shoot your shots nonetheless.

- albeit, they're always met with frustrated silence, sarcasm or judgy glances.

- she acts like she hates it. Yeah, sometimes it truly pisses her off if she's in a bad mood and her social battery is low, but other than that, she kinda enjoys the attention from you.

- she actually liked you since she met you. not like.. actually like you, but you seemed nice, you seemed to have an understanding others lacked.

- she catches onto every single flirtatious remark you make. Every. Single. One.

- if you say something she doesn't like at all, she hits you in the back of the head, flicks your forehead or punches you in the shoulder. Fuck, her flicks are deadly.

- “can I braid your hair?” was a question you asked once. Max just turned to look at you with a soft smile. “Fuck no.”

- “oh-”

- physical contact is not her strong suit. Of course, she loves it, but not every time. It also depends on how she's feeling. A thing she can never get tired of though is quality time. You could spend days with her and she wouldn't mind at all. As long as you don't bother her too much.

Billy Hargrove;

- the moment you open your mouth around him, you're playing with fire. Seriously. You don't know what is gonna set him off.

- fucking hates it. hates it hates it hates it.

- to say that he's your friend is.. an overstatement. He just tolerates your presence. Does not like when you say stupid shit.

- “you've got such a pretty face.” you complimented him once.

“i'm gonna beat the fucking shit out of you.”

“ohhh-kay.”

- would laugh it off but he knows you're into guys. he done seen it from a mile away bro 😭 gaydar strong as shit.

- was a bit bothered by you liking guys at first, though over a span of a damn week he couldn't be bothered enough to care.

- says he hates when you're around him but has spent more time with you than with anyone else.

- he's gotten too used to being around you.

- “where are we going?” you asked from the passenger seat of his car.

“a date, are you fucking-” he paused, blinking a couple of times. “my date.” he pulled over almost immediately, in a heart beat. “get out of the damn car.”

“you just-” you stammered for a moment. “good luck on your date.” you said in an encouraging tone, feeling defeated as you got out of the car, not even knowing where you are.

“don't need it.” he said bitterly as he drove off. Well, okay.

Steve Harrington;

- either laughs or gets flustered (doesn't show it).

- mocks you so much in return.

- DEFLECTS your compliments with mean comments like crazy.

- “ya look good today, Steve.”

“Couldn't say the same about you. Jesus, have you looked in the mirror this morning?” he said with a concerned smile.

- cheeky little shit. he'd jump in traffic if it meant he'd avoid saying a simple 'thank you' to your compliments.

- he thinks you don't know that your flirting affects him. it's way too obvious. dude's hands get clammy, unclenching and clenching his fists, rubbing his hands on his pants or his stance shifting after a compliment. the signs are subtle, sure, but not invisible.

- the tension between you two is CRAZY. yeah he gets flustered if you say something out of pocket but he's not scared to hold eye contact. I mean, if you're not looking. if you are, he's not sparing a damn glance your way.

- CHECKS YOU OUT SO MUCH. AND FOR NO REASON. dude's a natural flirt.

- he has flirted back like a total of 5 times. otherwise he'd just brush you off fr.

Nancy Wheeler;

- SOMEBODY GET THE DAMN AMBULANCE.

- if she likes you and your vibe, she flirts back. SHE FLIRTS FIRST MORE.

- you thought you'd get her flustered? Nah, she's giving you signs dude.

- she'd make 'accidental' physical contact with you, like gently brushing her hand against yours and shit like that. just to tease you.

- shameless with her flirting. Seriously. She doesn't say much in front of others but if you're alone you can't catch a break.

- she'd speak a sentence that has a clear implication of something dirty and then when you ask her about it, she'd give it another meaning.

- eye contact eye contact eye contact, she loves it

- one time, the two of you were hanging out in your room. You were going to a wedding tomorrow, and Nancy knew that.

“fuck, I don't have any nice clothes. What do I wear for tomorrow?” You asked her, hoping for some advice.

“i'd rather you wear.. nothing.” she said mindlessly, flipping through a book.

“..Nance.”

“what, you asked me, I answered.” She said with a small chuckle.

Joyce Byers;

- she catches onto your flirting but she overthinks it and eventually comes to the conclusion that you're just being friendly.

- a good thing about your flirting is that it would lighten her mood if she's upset or deep in thought.

- she jokes back at your flirting but immediately regrets it, thinking she sounded stupid

- she loves when you wrap an arm around her shoulders, it gives her a sense of security. Some sort of it, anyway. Always gives you a small slightly awkward smile when you initiate physical contact with her, too.

- so afraid of being misled that even when you sent her flowers, a huge bouquet of it, she thought it was a friendly gesture, again. Jonathan and Will argued with her about it.

- is finally convinced that you're into her when you wink at her across the room, being discreet.

- no seriously, all of that and the only time she thinks you're into her when you're winking at her. Not when you're openly flirting with her or sending her gifts..

Jim Hopper;

- DOESN'T EVEN LOOK AT YOU.

- everyone at the police department knew you flirted with Jim. But due to him ignoring you constantly, you gave your pick up lines to his co-workers, and made them say the cheesy words to him. Ended them with a 'yours truly, [Name]'. Always.

- that got him to talk to you. He was pissed off, sure, but he still talked to you. And that was better than nothing. Told you to stop - you didn't.

- dude threatened to arrest you for harassment.

- he'd clench his jaw whenever he had to stand next to you.

“Can't tell if you're tense because you want to kiss me so bad or because you wanna beat the shit out of me.” you said, your tone amused yet held a hint of fake seriousness.

“I'm about to shoot you.” He answered, his tone flat and nonchalant.

“hm. not really fond of that idea, thanks though, Jimmy.”

That was his last straw and he genuinely pulled a gun on you.

- of course, after that, it didn't stop you from flirting with him anyway.

- whenever his colleagues see you nearby, they point you to him and urge him to ask you out. He was starting to hate everyone because of you.

Dmitri Antonov;

- Acts annoyed when you gush over his russian accent. though it makes him feel more comfortable about it, more confident.

- most of the time he flirts back in English. Or just says “oh yeah?” with a small smile of disbelief.

- whenever he responds to you in russian.. he is talking shit about you. Not that he hates you, but sometimes your words are too much for him and the only thing he can do is let it out through violently shit talking you. To convince himself that you're 'not all that'.

- deep down hle knows that you are though.

- if he feels flustered, he averts his gaze, shakes his head and/or buries his face in his hands.

- avoids talking to you at any given time, only does it when he has to.

- touch him in any sort of way and he's STIFF AS FUCK. dude's a statue. Unless he pushes you off.

Eddie Munson;

- feels extremely flattered when you flirt with him.

- of course, he flirts back.

- does an eyebrow wiggle anytime you say something suggestive.

- somehow manages to turn your normal sentences to awkward ones when he makes a dirty joke out of your words.

- “I lost my bracelet in a ball pit like a year ago,” you complained once the conversation turned to speaking about lost things.

“ball pit?” he asked, a small smile creeping up his face.

“Yeah?” You said with a raise of your eyebrow.

“Ball.. pit?”

“Dude.” you deadpanned.

- made a bet with Dustin that you're into him, that you're not just joking. Dustin had his suspicions but you didn't seem the type to like.. men. Or even if you did, you would've told him already.

- that's the biggest loss of his life. lil guy was FLABBERGASTED.

Jonathan Byers;

- cannot hold eye contact for the life of him.

- he gets kinda nervous when you're flirting. The first time you flirted dude was a stammering mess, fidgeting with his sleeves like a maniac.

- despite an established shyness he had around you, he enjoyed your company. you were a good friend.

- friend? You have never given someone so many hints that you like them.

- Argyle, when he was high, told Jonathan to just get together with you already because the pining was giving him second hand embarrassment.

- Jonathan has been even more shy around you since then.

- “That's a good photo, when'd you take that?” you asked simply, your eyes locked onto the photo in Jonathan's hand.

“Like-.. last month, uhm, during the trip-” he stammered out after a short pause, his head lowered. HE WAS BEET RED DUDE.

- “you have GOT to give me a kiss, I did such a good job?” You said in a joking manner.

Jonathan died inside, right then and there on the spot. His mouth hung open, staring at you wide-eyed.

Once you notice he was baffled, you huffed out a laugh. “I was kidding, you know. But I won't turn you down if you decide to actually kiss me-”

“[Name]—” he groaned out a whine of your name, disappointed by your last sentence as he tried to gather himself.

[tsams-is-my-hyperfixation]

New funky AU below cut @bloodmoon-da-idiot @lunarlovesbeanbags @silly-a-777 @coffee-the-bat @sen-sational @multifandomcutie13 @upsidedownapple @goodolddumbbanana @annakenziesworld @mo0ndr0p @thekillermaretwinz @escapetheslaughters @yelesomeblue and others. Feel free to reblog I will be yippee. ALSO THIS IS AN ORIGINAL AU. YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO USE IT. Go ahead and make a different character for it if you want, but if you're inspired by me, then give me credits. No using my fucking AU's in Character.ai or any AI apps either. Thank you for reading.

[BAD THERAPIST NEXUS AU 💀]

Earth: "I'm literally being cyber bullied on this f#cking computer every day and I don't know what to do!"

Nexus walked over, with a cold and calm expression, and forcefully close the laptop with a thud.

Nexus, looking at her and taking off his glasses and grinning at her: "Problem Solved."

The audio of a picture being taken played, then Sun walked up.

Sun: "Meet Dr. Nexus, a therapist with a zero star rating on Yelp, which he claims is because he only tells his clients the brutal truth."

Flashback...

Solar: "There is something seriously wrong with me."

Nexus: "What's wrong?"

Solar: "When I look in the mirror, all I can think is 'no-one f#cking likes you'."

Nexus, with a calm expression and voice: "There is absolutely nothing wrong...with being honest."

Another picture was taken, and Sun walked over to Nexus.

Sun: "When we asked Dr. Nexus if his 0 star rating upset him, he responded"

Nexus, cleaning his glasses and grinning: "The only zeroes on the internet I care about are the ones in my bank account. If I ever felt upset, I'd wipe my tears away with a f#cking $100 bill."

Flashback 2...

Lunar: "My brother used to hit me when I was a kid."

Nexus: "Is your brother still involved in your life?"

Lunar: "Kind of...he is in another dimension, working as the theater attendant."

Nexus: "Well, what are you waiting for, you could definitely win the rematch with your f#cking powers."

Final picture taken, and Sun walked back to the camera, microphone in hand.

Sun: "Maybe this guy SHOULDN'T be a therapist..."

[dapperinsanity]

HH S2 Leaks: Just some whining and complaining from me below LOL

TikTok spoiled things and I almost thought it was fake and realized it wasn’t.

Well, I was hoping they wouldn’t go down that route with Rosie but they did. There was something that was leaked around S1 where Rosie was revealed to be either Lilith/Eve or Roo in disguise. I’m not surprised she owns Alastor’s soul but I am disappointed that Rosie is not who we thought she was before this. They really keep going lower and lower with Alastor’s character though. I fully expected it but it still annoys me. You’re telling me Alastor is basically…nothing? The only reason he’s “powerful” is thanks to Rosie and he can’t do shit without his staff. No one is scared of him and no one takes him seriously. What else is there of him? Just an annoying and whiny attention whore who has no skills whatsoever. He’s pathetic and I will never stop being bitter over how badly the show butchered him compared to the YT pilot.

Now Sir Pentious and his backstory was fine. I didn’t see all the clips but apparently Pentious tries to commit suicide? I haven’t seen the clip for myself but damn. I feel bad for him but that’s because I have soft spot for Pentious.

I found myself actually interested in the leak with Lute hallucinating Adam. I hate both these characters so that was something I guess? It’s nice to see Lute getting so frustrated because no one is on her side.

Sera’s song leak is whatever. I don’t have anything say on it. It’s alright. I don’t have much to say about God’s Speaker or whatever the bird lady was called besides this. If she’s a speaker for god and it’s clear that the show is avoiding anything to do directly with god, I think it’s gonna be revealed that there is no god. Either that or she’s a fraud and isn’t a speaker of God. I could totally wrong but just a thought I’d share.

Let’s talk about Abel and St. Peter. First of all, why the fuck is St. Peter back? He’s annoying. So, what about Abel? Well, idk tbh. If he wasn’t Abel, I wouldn’t mind his character I think? He’s just whatever.

Lastly, haven’t seen any clips of this but apparently, Alastor and Angel manage to get hypnotized by Vox. I’m very worried how that’s gonna go. We already had…episode 4…and we know Valentino and Vox are a thing; I’m sure you get my concern. Like, for fuck’s sake, I hope Alastor doesn’t become a victim too. Look, call me crazy, but once it was revealed Al and Vox were friends in the past, I had a bad gut feeling. Let’s hope my gut feeling was wrong.

Also, side note, can we talk about why the show treats Vox and Val’s relationship as fine? While I know the Vee’s are villains, Vox knows that Angel is a victim to Val. Granted, there isn’t anything saying their relationships is good or bad, I’m just confused on why everyone is chill about VoxVal? Idk *shrugs*

Anyways, I feel bad for the animators who worked hard on season 2 only for it to be leaked. Wonder what’s gonna happen now.

[beef-brisket]

They walked up a side of a hill, overlooking a large reservoir. Lucifer eyed an old flooded village and two large windmills that look ready for fall over.

Lucifer: What a shit hole.

Adam: Wait till you meet Vox.

They passed a concrete building that controlled the dam, but there was no power.

Adam: The power box in the mines, we should head there first.

Lucifer: Why can't it just work.

Adam: Well, we don't want it to be too easy for you, do we~?

Lucifer glared as Adam walked towards a mine entrance. Sometimes, he feels like he can't t trust Adam. There's tines when he's less than helpful.

He followed after Adam. Once he went underground, the smell was the first thing he noticed. It smelled like rotten fruit and fish.

Lucifer stuck with Adam, he seemed to know his way around. They climbed up a set of stairs, and Adam quietened him.

Adam: Go around that corner. His flask is there.

They could hear TV static and groaning, Lucifer didn't like this.

Lucifer: Just like that?

Adam: Just like that. Just- be quiet.

Lucifer nodded and walked around from the corner. The wall of whatever room this is, was rotten and broken away. And right in front of him was the flask.

He quickly grabbed it.

Charlotte: legs.

Lucifer started sobbing. His poor baby girl.

Vox: Huh? W-What-? Hey! You can't touch that!

Lucifer jumped and saw something move against the light of the TV. He couldn't make out a shape. It just looked like a pile of shot covered in a blanket.

But when he turned, he almost gagged. This must be Vox. And he's as gross as Adam says. His whole back seems to pulse and move under what Lucifer now sees as a hooded cloak. His face looks like a mix of a shark and a person. Flat, and wide. Teeth long but blunt. His voice sounded like he was gurgling water.

Lucifer glared over to Adam, who was shaking his head. He probably could have been quieter. But this is Lucifer.

Lucifer: Fuck you! She's my daughter!

Vox: Ha! Not anymore~. She's- Mother Liliths! You can't take her-! She won't love me if you take her!

Lucifer: With a face like that, I don't even think any mother would love you.

Vox: She loves me. She trusted me with a Charlotte flask! She loves me. She loves me. She loves me.

Lucifer glared as Vox started laughing and coughing.

Lucifer: What's so funny, freak?

Vox: You... You talk too much~.

Lucifer jumped away as ghat disgusting wet fungus grew all over the walls and floor. He almost vomited at the hot, sweet smell that cane from it.

Vox: My mucus won't let you leave~. You're trapped here! And I'll get that flask back from you before the ritual- and I'll hand you over to her- she'll double love me! I'll be her favorite! Not that giant- freakshow and her inbred kids! Ha!

Lucifer pushed himself past the mucus. He was surprised Adam didn't reacted to Vox's insult.

Adam: Seriously? He was just sitting there. You HAD to make a noise?

Lucifer: Sorry! I just... it's my daughter...

Adam rolled his eyes: Let's go.

Lucifer: Where to? Were trapped!

Adam: Exactly. You're going fishing.

Lucifer: Fishing?

Adam: Kill fucking Vox- and his bullshit... mucus dissolves. So, get fishing.

They managed to find the power Vox, and switched it on. And stupid Vox closed up the wrong exit, so they ended up back at the concrete house.

Flicking the switch, the boys watched as the water drained.

Adam: Stupid fucker won't be able to do shit now.

Lucifer smiled, and they walked out of the building. But Lucifer cringed as a giant, mutant fish crawled down the hill in front of them. He could hear Vox cursing and complaining.

Lucifer: I thought you said he won't be able to do shit, now?

Adam: ...I forgot he could do that. I'm so used to seeing everyone normal, that I forgot the parasites can change their forms. Oh well. No biggie.

Lucifer: Uh- you saw that to, right? That's a big biggie. A very big biggie.

Adam: At least you're not fighting my mother's form~. Or mine, for that fact.

Lucifer glared as Adam started walking off.

Lucifer: The fuck does that mean?

Adam only smiles at him and continues to walk in the direction after Vox.

Lucifer: Adam! Answer me!

Adam: Nope!

((I like to think Adam's form looks like Lady Dimitrescu, but less weird looking lol))

Have you seen Resident Evil: Village? All I'm saying is Adam and Emily as two of the three sisters and Sera as Lady Dimitrescu.

Lucifer is Ethan trying to find Charlie.

At first, Adam was on his mother and sisters side- but because they have a weird thing against dudes, he eventually helps Lucifer.

Trust me, it feels illegal not to make Adam the stunning Lady Dimitrescu, but for story reasons, he'll be one of her kids.

I mean, their hot. What can I say? Adam would look great like this 🤷

Adam: Mmm- man flesh~.

Lucifer: ...Kinda gay, man.

Adam: It's not gay.

Lucifer: It is- man flesh? Really?

Adam: ...

Lucifer: ...

Adam: *stabs sickle into his leg and drags him away* Mother!

I have seen it! Ha I love this. ((Yes he'd rock being the Lady of the house 😩))

Lucifer: Ow!! What the fuck!?

Adam: It's not gay! Mother was right.

[sayakxmi]

The interesting thing about it is that at the first glance it really seems like Kankri’s losing it over nothing. Which, to be fair, he kind of is. Porrim was just being nice to Karkat. But his reaction becomes... actually understandable, given later on we find out that Porrim has no respect for Kankri’s personal boundaries, like trying to touch him, which is the only real instance of us seeing Kankri lose his composure.

And of course the nickname thing, as well as the sweater thing.

And then acts pale toward him at the first opportunity:

An idea he finds uncomfortable. Like any other potential romantic relationship with her.

So while he is overreacting in that one conversation with Karkat present, he’s also doing this, because Porrim apparently never took his “no” for an answer, so he clearly has to repeat himself over and over again.

[dezmolad]

ES S3 SPOILERS

... what the fuck do u mean Robby has been groomed by an alien for the last 2 seasons

[madmaxified]

villain and violent

infant and innocent

[itsalwaysforyou]

I AM FOREVER YOUR MOST DEVOTED BELIEVER

kenny ortgea, descendants 3 / katy prickett, medieval 'love motto' gold ring found near frinton / x / x / x / 墨香铜臭, heaven official's blessing / mitski, geyser / dove cameron and khalid, we go down together / mitski, i'm your man / anne sexton, 'a letter to w. d. snodgrass' / x / florence + the machine, heavy in your arms / x

[bumblydumbly]

if i see one more post about letting dunmeshi characters be “problematic” when its LITERALLY just cultural differences colliding im gonna SNAP

[skyclan-funny-name-squad]

Sometimes I think about how wild tawnypelt was as a character

Local girl who looks nothing like her father goes to join her exiled murderous fathers bloody dictatorship because she was being compared to him while her brother who is identical to him doesnt, she witnesses her father’s regime do public executions and multiple war crimes, never really ever comes out against him or mentions regret for leaving or fear at any of this, named her son after him after he died and supposedly rejected him in her dreams, none of this is really connected at all and she does nothing of relevance ever