#BUT I'm always willing to be pleasantly surprised

[randomfoggytiger]

hello I come to you with a fic question. What makes a good case fic in your opinion? What are the bare bones that constitute a case fic but then how do you make it good? Ty in advance

Hmmmm....

Casefile (case file? one of the two) isn't my genre, personally: I largely see it as a way for writers to explore and magnify the fleeting angst in the Mulder-Scully relationship, UST style. It's very easy to lose the plot in personal or petty jealousies and exacerbated-beyond-canon bickerings. On the flip side, it can be just as damaging to avoid focusing on their dynamic: too many side plots or side characters lose the core conceit (Mulder and Scully against the world.)

In fairness to the genre, I'm going to answer this question broadly (to the best of my abilities):

Cases that mold themselves to Mulder's or Scully's weaknesses are usually fraught with violent emotion, so I'd watch out to not overdo it.

Cases that stand on their own allow Mulder and Scully breathing room to analyze their work or each other's focus on the work, or to draw sympathetic (or pitying) parallels between themselves and the work, with more detached nuance. However, there is a great temptation to invent a connection between the duo and a disconnected case down the line, which can compromise the original intent of the message (unless you want a mytharc twist-- but then it wasn't disconnected, was it?)

Canonically, Mulder and Scully don't lie to each other, but their refusal to communicate can seem like deceit (and causes obvious friction.) Whenever these situations pop up, both tackle their personal problems head-on, iron them out in as few words as possible, and either drop the discussion until the case is resolved or until they're given a moment of calm to speak on it further. They don't ever let these frustrations compromise their work (which is why Syzygy was such an outlier) or the strength of their relationship. I think, overall, they're ultimately afraid to break the partnership or walk away from it: it's the one thing, pre-RST, they can openly acknowledge between them.

Usually casefiles always pivot to a twist-- which isn't actually a backbone in canon: the show has layers to each "villain's" abilities and motivations, but rarely does it conclude with an Agatha Christie surprise. (Home, for example: we knew the Peacocks were responsible all along-- we just didn't know Mrs. Peacock was the mother of the dead baby. We knew the D.P.O. kid caused the lightning in D.P.O.; we knew who kidnapped the girl in Oubliette; we knew Sheila's boyfriend was somehow connected to the rain in Rain King; etc. etc.) Twists are fun, but they can quickly devolve into convoluted, last second patchwork.

Most casefiles involve religion or religious elements, which makes sense for some of the episodes in canon (and the religious bent of the 90s.) But not every serial killer needs to be a cherry-pickin' Bible nut. Most X-Files monster need to kill for survival.

Most casefiles involve serial killers instead of monsters, likely because this forces Mulder and Scully to work with others and gives the writers an excuse to keep them apart after a huge fight or blowup. Be on your guard against these wicked temptations. ;))))

Mulder usually gets into trouble and Scully usually has to save him; or Scully is usually suffering from x/y/z thing and Mulder has to try (and fails) to keep an eye on her. That very easily leads into one of two traps: either Mulder is so stupid that he launches himself into an obvious trap without backup (whereas canonically he doesn't leap into danger unless he is convinced he can easily get out of it... and/or if he's on a suicide mission... or was maliciously duped)-- or Scully is so resentful of Mulder's attentions that she blows and distances herself from him (whereas in canon her furious anger is reserved for talking him down from his arrogance, not in her own self-defense. Further, she relies on Mulder's ability to poke and prod: it gives her an chance to open up, almost against her will.)

Those are my thoughts! I could proooooooooooobably come up with more... but I think these generalities pretty much cover it. :DDDD

[bucketofcrows]

DAISY CIRCUIT LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOO

[foldingfittedsheets]

Before my beloved and I moved in together they were living with roommates in a place that didn't have a bathtub. Now, a reasonable person might conclude from this that baths would be out of the equation in a home with only one standing shower and no tub.

But these people weren't quitters. Naturopathic doctors and acupuncturists they were dedicated to treating their bodies well and one of the ways they liked to do that was hydrotherapy. Most people are familiar with this through things like polar bear plunges. You sit in a hot tub then jump in freezing water.

It's supposedly good for you and they were way into it. But again, no tub. They'd do hydro showers but it just wasn't the same. These people were not quitters, though. (One of them is the boob soap person, so it really isn't a surprise that she goes hard on everything). So they got what looked like two big metal old timey tubs but which were actually animal food troughs and set them up in the garage. They set up a water heater and god knows how they emptied the tub after, I think there was hoses involved? A pump maybe? I honestly can't remember. Anyway! Voila, hydrotherapy on demand.

I was not aware of this. So when I came over after a long day and my beloved said we should take a bath I was extremely puzzled. I only knew about the one shower. They showed me the garage tubs. I did want a bath and I wasn't really sure about the setup, but honestly I'll try anything once if only for the story, so I agreed.

Fun fact about me though. I haaaate being cold. I've been 0% body fat most of my life with skin barely keeping my bones enclosed. I'm always cold. My favorite activity at the time was sitting directly in front of space heaters. My shower temperatures turn me lobster red and make my beloved cringe. Willingly dunking myself into cold water is the antipathy of my entire deal.

On the night in question I happily submerged into the warm tank, pleasantly surprised by the big silly improvised tub. Which again was meant for livestock. My knees bumped companionably against my beloved as we soaked in the hot water. After a while they rose to go into the cold water. "You don't have to," they told me.

But I was haunted. I wouldn't be doing hydro if I just stayed in the warm tub. Maybe hydro was amazing. It has all these health benefits. I desperately didn't want to but I stood up with them. We were having this nice intimate evening in the garage, just us, I felt safe. I was gonna do it.

They stepped easily into the cold tub, dunking matter of factly into the frigid water. I went to step. I did. I really really tried. My foot went in and I started shrieking, my progress arrested by the total state of shock I entered when my warm toasty foot hit that smug arctic water tension. My beloved started laughing as my pitch ascended the deeper my foot went into the cold water.

I started loudly narrating my discomfort as my foot touched the bottom and I willed my other foot up to join it. "THIS IS VERY COLD," I yelled, "IT'S SO COLD I THINK I MIGHT DIE HOW ARE YOU JUST CASUALLY SITTING IN THIS FREEZING COLD WATER?! I'M DYING- I THINK I'M DYING! I'M DYING BUT WE'RE HERE, TOGETHER! I CAN DO THIS! I CAN DO THESE EVEN THOUGH IT'S SO COLD ALL MY MOLECULES HAVE COMPRESSED INTO A SOLID STATE!"

I ended up with both feet planted in the cold tub, water up to my shins, bellowing and panting while my beloved laughed so hard they couldn't breathe. I hunkered over the cold water, squatting like a frozen gargoyle.

My beloved was trying to psyche me up while I willed my body to obey me. In a sudden jerky drop like a puppet whose strings have been cut I plummeted my body into the cold and let out a shriek that I’m sure could have shattered glass and then leapt up out of the water at a speed relative to a rocket achieving space flight. I didn’t like it.

When we got back inside my beloved's roommates were collapsed on the ground with tears in the their eyes from how hard they'd been laughing. They and probably every neighbor down the block had heard my pterodactyl screeching and narration because the garage was not remotely soundproof.

[andersonsgf]

modern roommate!abby

this shall be so criminally self indulgent :)

18+ bit of smut. minors dni.

modern roommate!abby who wasn't keen on you at first. manny had just moved out and it felt as though she had practically grabbed you from the street to make sure she could make rent that month. but she did not like living with a stranger. for the first week she kicked you to the curb, giving you minimal responses when you tried to talk. She looked at you with a frown most of the time, blinking at you when you suggested a movie on your third night. "I'm going out tonight" was her response, mentally noting to make sure to text manny to hang out now.

modern roommate!abby who after getting over her initial distaste realised you weren't too bad after all. at first she protested that you put little trinkets of yours around the apartment. "i don't see why you have to make this place look like one of your fucking video game stores", she complained when some lego blockheadz appeared near the tv. but after a little while she came to find that she didn't mind it so much, and after getting over the fact that manny was gone she realised you were filling all the little gaps he had left in your own way.

besides, you had pointed out all of her trinkets that were dotted around. "those aren't trinkets!", she had protested, arguing that her mass amount of classic books and classical music CDs dotted around were fine collections, and not "kids toys". you had for sure worn her down, though. you won the battle claiming that you deserve to have your fine collections around the apartment too. even though abby was annoyed that her entire apartment felt different now, she wasn't a dick. you were paying equal rent, you should have equal trinkets.

modern roommate!abby who after finally deeming that you weren't a threat to her little paradise at home drove you everywhere. your shiftwork at the local store was on her way to her work. it was the least she could do she felt, not trusting other people to keep you safe when walking around seattle on your own. she wouldn't tell anyone you were friends yet, still telling people that you were just her pesky roommate. still, she couldn't bear the thought of you shuffling through the torrential seattle rain to work, then walking back in the dark after. no, no. she was willing to be your chauffeur. she even gave you the aux. she would rub her forehead when she saw you put it on without her permission anymore, but she never made you turn it off.

modern roommate!abby who has a rigorous sleep schedule thanks to all of the rugby training she does cannot understand how one night you will be in bed asleep by 10, and the next she'll wake up for a glass of water and hear you shuffling around in your adjoining room at 2am. time and time again she would lecture you on not going to bed late due to your commitment to your playstation, but she soon realised it was no use. you were unfortunately a gremlin.

you consistently mocked her for going to bed at a "baby hour". it was always met with an eye roll and her telling you you would meet an early grave from sleep deprivation. come to think of it, she often told you that you'd die young. whether it be from lack of sleep, eating too much candy, not looking properly when confidently stepping out into the road, or just being oblivious to the world around you in general. "you gotta get healthier so i know my rent payments are still secure", she'd tell you whilst eating her perfectly counted macros meal after the two of you visited the gym together, watching you scoff your face with your version of a post-gym snack. a subway sandwich with four rainbow cookies.

modern roommate!abby was pleasantly surprised to find out that you were a gym rat too. she obviously had way more muscle, built like an ox, but you were doing pretty well for yourself too. different body types had different ways of showing muscle anyway. at first she couldn't really tell, you had moved in in the winter so wore baggy comfy layers to the gym. after a few months of joining in on her training sessions though, the seasons changing and the weather warming up, you started wearing your matching sets. abbys favourite was your dark blue ones, a cropped muscle shirt and shorts. not that she would ever ever admit to you that she had a favourite.

she would never admit that sometimes she corrected your form just to get a little closer. your form was never wrong, she'd taught you too well over the months. she was embarrassed, her eye contact when in the gym dropped completely, and she had never been one to shy away from that kind of crap. you were though, eye contact had always alluded you so you didn't notice the way abby could barely look at you, feeling terrible for ogling you in your new leggings when she helped you on the squat rack.

modern roommate!abby who when she got a text that you cracked your tooth on a skittle at work booked half her shift off and drove you to the dentist. she didn't even have to think about it, just told her boss she had a family emergency and had the 'holiday' booked within five minutes. she pulled up to the curbside with a screech, staring at you with an incredulous expression. "you're like four minutes from your work why did you start walking?", she had half yelled out the window.

"what? why are you out of work?", your hand was covering your cheek on the cracked tooth side of your face as if that would do anything. abby sighed, pushing the endearing thoughts towards you out of her head as she yelled at you to "get in the fucking car". she took you for a milkshake after it got fixed.

modern roommate!abby who got comfortable enough with you in her life to invite her friends around for an evening of drunk games again. manny made about ten jokes over the course of the night about how he was invited to his own apartment. you laughed at how he poked fun at how you ruined his old room. hearing your drunken giggles made abby smile a lot over the course of that night. you'd become a permanent fixture in her life, and as the drinks kept coming she kept sidling closer and closer to you on the couch, basically ignoring her friends as they cracked open a board game and ten more beers. you spent the night basically staring at her hands as they clutched onto the various beer bottles. they were just so fucking big, and attached to the biggest forearms you had ever seen.

at some point you got up to go make some toast, trying to preemptively cure the hangover you knew you were going to get. you had completely missed how abbys eyes narrowed into thin slits when one of her coworkers took interest in you and very clearly tried to chat you up in the kitchen. her hand almost crunched the beer bottle when she saw that womans hand on the small of your back. you had been clearly too drunk to notice much, but you did approach abby the next morning after finding a phone number slipped into your back pocket.

"you scored last night, huh?". abbys heart raced a million miles an hour as she looked at you. it shouldn't have mattered, she wasn't interested in dating, nevermind getting into it with a roommate. that was a terrible choice. but she couldn't deny the smirk she held back by sipping on some orange juice as you murmured about not being interested whilst throwing the paper in the bin.

modern roommate!abby didn't invite that particular coworker around again. you did question it when she was absent at the next hangout. "She's just busy, sweetheart", she was drunk enough to call you that as her hand covered your knee completely. she woke up humiliated at how many advances she had sent your way that night, but if you noticed then you didn't make it clear, entering the kitchen the same way you did every morning. your bright smile melted her heart.

after a while modern roommate!abby started cooking for you more. she wanted to make sure you were getting a good amount of protein and carbs with how much physical exercise you did each week. not as much as her of course, but still a hefty amount. it became a common occurrence for her to hand you some tupperware with your name on a post-it before she drove you to work. she never put a post-it on her own tupperware though, which you thought needed to be rectified. she was pleasantly surprised when she got to work, seeing "abby <3 :)" on her lunch. it did lead to her having to deny having a girlfriend at work though, her coworkers pestering her about it nonstop. it did get her thinking, however. you were sweet, maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing- no, no.

modern roommate!abby who decided to invite you to a rugby game for the first time. you knew she worked in an office for her main income, and obviously knew she was on a rugby team. what you didn't know was that she was in an actual major league team, the seattle seawolves. you also didn't know that she was such a star of the show that premiership teams were looking into scouting her for the next seasons. fucking hell. it now felt like living with a celebrity. you sat alone on the bench near the pitch, getting special treatment for being a special guest. a decent crowd showed and screamed loud when the seattle team had momentum. abby pushed harder than she ever had now that you were in the crowd. she pushed through tackles like the opponents were made of butter, easily reaching the end goal and slamming both herself and the ball onto the floor near the posts, making life easier for the kicker. you, meanwhile? drooling. straight up drooling. Her muscles rippled as she stormed across the pitch, her hamstrings and quads were sculpted and your eyes were pinned to them. suddenly you realised why people liked watching rugby.

it was a win, of course. she celebrated with her teammates on the pitch as the crowd slowly filtered out. it was incredible. abby won player of the match, scoring the most tries, letting her team win by a landslide. "well done!", you spoke louder to be heard over everyone as you reached her after hurrying across the pitch. abbys heart skipped and her ears rang as she saw you grin up at her before you went up on your tiptoes and wrapped your arms around her neck.

modern roommate!abby who after this had realised she was down bad. one hug should not have been on her mind for this long. and abby 'get the fuck away from me' anderson never normally craved another hug after someone held her. but no, she started even inviting you to match practices and being a tryhard just for the chance of you giving her another well done hug after. fuck, she was so screwed. she even found herself putting her hands on you when moving past you in the apartment, making sure to get your favourite snacks in if she saw you were out of them. she'd never done this when manny lived with her so she could not chalk it up to just feeling comfortable. she grumbled to herself when you arrived home from wandering around the city and she smiled too brightly during welcoming you home, huffing and puffing and making her sandwich too aggressively when you were back in your room.

"why are there so many finger marks in your bread?", you startled her. your chuckle reverberated around her heart, making it beat faster. she gave some pathetic excuse about literally hand planting her sandwich as she tripped coming back from the fridge. you believed it, shrugging her off as you sat down next to her and unwrapped another subway.

modern roommate!abby who made it all worse when acting deeply uncomfortable when you talked about dating apps. "i mean, i thought when i moved to the city that the choices in women would be better but its still 'katy and brent looking for their third', or 'just looking for some fun on my exchange!'. ugh does no woman in seattle just want a nice relationship or something?". abby looked up from her beer, looking a little frazzled that the topic of dating was now here. she painfully swallowed a hunk of pizza whilst absentmindedly agreeing with you. "what's your relationship take? do you have much luck here?".

she sighed, fucksake. "i don't really have one", she brushed you off, watching as you frowned at her. it's not like she could admit that her relationship take right now was you. "how can you not have one?".

"i mean one day it might be nice to settle down but like you said the dating pool is shit".

"yeah it is pretty shit. i dunno, i kinda like knowing the person first, might just delete hinge it's so ass", you grumbled and she watched you toss the application into the trash, her chest felt relieved. without the dating apps she didn't have to worry about you finding an actual person on there, now she could take her time in being a wimp around the apartment again.

modern roommate!abby who had managed to make it even more worse when you scampered through the apartment in just a shirt and your underwear after a shower, yelling in panic about how you left your pyjama bottoms by accident. even you in all of your beautiful obliviousness noticed the way she stared at your ass as soon as you were in view of the living room. you clearly gulped and scampered away even faster as you felt your face and ears flush. abby had to go and get a drink of water before shaking her head. you were her roommate, it was too complicated. but now that she had seen you in some simple black cotton underwear -to abby, the simple stuff was hotter- she knew she was fucked. not in the fun way.

before she knew it her car keys were in her hand and she was heading to mannys apartment. he enthusiastically invited her in and she immediately shared her woes about how she had fallen so hard for her new roommate. "dude, you can't do apartment-cest".

"don't call it that, that's gross", she shoved his shoulder and got a soda out of his fridge. "i didn't think i had a type before her but she's just so sweet y'know? like everything she says is like she's throwing rainbows at me even if she's complaining about how her avocado socks got soggy on a walk or some shit".

"dip your pen in the apartment ink, then", manny sat down on his couch whilst trying to subtly shove someones bra under a cushion.

"i could have maybe continued silently pining after her like a fucking loser but she caught me staring at her ass and fuck it was a good one". abby anderson basically whined when thinking about how she saw you at the apartment, her stomach doing that thing.

modern roommate!abby who hid at mannys apartment until 10pm when you had your shower at 5. she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole when you looked up at her as soon as she opened the door. you had been waiting for her with a tub of ben and jerrys, and you were wearing her rugby teams shirt as a pyjama shirt. fuck. her voice was strained when greeting you, biting the bullet and placing herself on the sofa too. "you were gone a while", you noted. all she could do was nod, her mouth going dry now she knew she'd seen the entirety of your legs. she had decided they were her new weakness. "sorry if i made you uncomfortable".

"the opposite, actually", she replied after a moment. and neither of you knew where to go from there. in every aspect of her life abby was headstrong, intimidating, said what she wanted. but when it came to women? useless. fucking useless.

the memo was received though. but you? also fucking useless. "okay i think we're both knowing where this is going", your voice was careful. terrified. you watched abby nod and shift to be facing more towards you. "maybe we can test to see if its awkward?", you looked up at her.

modern roommate!abby whose hand tentatively placed itself just above your waist as you both leaned in, awkwardly. your noses bumped, and she smiled with a huff before your lips chased hers. it was safe to say that it was a successful test. she worked her lips against yours and wondered why she hadn't been doing this the whole time. you tasted sweet, like orange juice, and her brain went static when you panted slightly as her hand moved up and down the side of your ribcage. sensitive.

modern roommate!abby who loved you hard as soon as you got past the awkward first week of not knowing how to be roommates and also go on dates. she took you out for some amazing burgers the day after your kiss and then got confused on what to do after. you both had the same home. some people may have retreated away to their rooms after, but not her. she straight up followed you into yours after your fifth date on week two, grinning as you laughed when she settled herself onto your bed. she just couldn't be apart from you, it seemed. not that you minded, especially not when you settled curled up against her chest as her hands rubbed your back. these days you could talk the nights away now that the useless pining was over. and you always found that one of abbys hands always found their way down your back and onto your ass, without fail, resting her hand there before falling asleep. think it's safe to say she's an ass girl.

modern roommate!abby who so lived up to that when she meekly asked if she could go from behind during your first time. even though she liked to be 'on top', she really was so shy during it. she made sure you had lots of pillows to be comfortable, she brushed your hair out of your face to make sure it wouldn't annoy you during it. the groan she let out when staring at your lower half, one hand cupping and squeezing it as the other worked the outside of your centre was enough to have you gushing. she worshipped you completely as she started off with one finger, aware that her hands were bigger than average. the small little whines were just not enough though, so she slipped another in, pumping them in and out softly as she gently rocked her body back and forth in time with her wrist, keeping her rhythm steady.

modern roommate!abby who over and over again murmured reassurances when she heard your soft whimpers. "you're okay, you're okay. so fucking hot", she'd slur out in a whisper, punctuating the end of her sentence with another squeeze to your ass before working you harder when she felt you near the finish line. she couldn't get over how good you felt, how warm, groaning when your back arched as she finally got you to the end, feeling ever so slightly proud of herself, and wondering why she hadn't bent you over sooner.

modern roommate!abby who proudly called you her girlfriend now when she brought you to rugby practice, pressing her lips to the top of your head before running off with a wink to go and batter some people. your eyes once again fixated on her thighs, definitely your favourite part of your girlfriend if you were quite frank. even though practice was her favourite time of week, the highlight of it really were those 'well done' hugs. only these days? she got a little kiss with them too.

[zepskies]

hiiii, i hope your friday is going well lovely 💞💞 :) how has your week been?💕

i’m currently stuck at work and it’s beeeeeen quite the day already, but you always cheer me up so i have a random question :p

i’m thinking about the scene when dean tried cafe con leche in the midnight espresso-verse (also i’m a barista loll🥲), and he was pleasantly surprised, so it has me wondering;

if they were to get something besides plain coffee, what do you think dean/ben/beau/russell would like to drink if they ordered at a coffee shop?

i always love to hear any and all your thoughts 🙂‍↕️🤍

Hello my lovely! 💞💞 I actually am in recovery this week after having a surgical procedure yesterday, so I'm finally getting a chance to catch up on my TBR reading and the shows I've had on my watchlist. 🤪

Ooh introducing Dean to Cuban espresso was the scene that inspired that whole fic of Midnight Espresso, and ultimately turned it into a whole series of Dean x plus-sized Latina fun!! lol

This is such a fun question though!! You as a barista probably know way more about coffee than I do, but here's my take on these guys' orders...

HEADCANON: What Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw would order at a coffee shop. ☕

Dean Winchester

Why, an espresso of course! 🤎

Cram that little cup full of sugar, and you've got Dean hooked on a heavy-hitter fix that'll keep him up during long research sessions. (It also gives you the opportunity to distract him from said research, give him a taste of another steamy fix. 😘❤️‍🔥)

Beau Arlen

Ooh I feel like he'd protest at first and claim to solely drink Americanos, but he's a basic latte guy.

Hit him with some caramel or hazelnut, and he's happy. But you could also hook him into being a little adventurous with a pistachio or "brown sugar" latte lol. Like most things, Beau is willing to try almost anything once. 😉

Soldier Boy (Ben)

So he's definitely going to be thrown by all the modern selections of coffee. (i.e. "What the fuck is oatmilk?") And how the hell can you get milk out of cashews and almonds?

All the health crazes, "drip" coffee, and milk alternatives are definitely going over his head, or he's mocking them. ("Save that pussy drink for Hughie." 💀)

But one thing he might go for, other than a black coffee, is a nice cold brew, hold off on too much foam -- can't be getting the milkstache, now can he? But he'll like it even better if you make it "Irish." 💚

Russell Shaw

Last but certainly not least, we have Russell! I don't think he's picky about his coffee, considering he probably drinks a lot of free motel coffee. lol

But! I think he'd appreciate a nice flat white at a proper café. It's more robust than a normal cappuccino and less milk, so he'd argue that he's getting more "bang for his buck." 😂

AN: @wvffles Hope you liked this little headcanon, friend, and that it cheers you up! I LOVE me some coffee, so this question with the guys was really fun to contemplate. 😘☕

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Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy + Russell Tag List (Part 1)

@kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @luci-in-trenchcoats @waynes-multiverse @lamentationsofalonelypotato

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@mrlonelycat @deans-daydream @leigh70 @aylacavebear @kmc1989

@siampie @rubyvhs @winchestergirl2 @winchester-whiskey

[dorkofclanlavellan]

Sweet Doesn't Mean Naive (Fallout Characters)

Fandom: Fallout 4 Scenario: The characters meeting and falling for a reader who is very sweet and helpful and accepting. Initially they may think the reader is naive because of their nature but soon learn differently. Pairings: Cait x Reader, Danse x Reader, Hancock x Reader, MacCready x Reader, Nick x Reader + Copper Howard x Reader.

Notes: Zero uses of Y/N or Sole. I may do a part 2 for the other characters later, these are just the ones that I'm super inspired for rn. [Also this is based on me never being able to select rude options in video games unless I genuinely hate the character lol]

Trigger Warning: These may be slightly OOC as I'm still familiarizing myself with the characters (more so the FO4 characters than Coop)

Cait:

Cait initially underestimates you, thinking you're too sweet and accepting to survive in the Wasteland. However, she's surprised when she discovers your savvy side, handling dangerous situations with intelligence and composure.

Your kindness and willingness to help others win her heart, and she admires your ability to adapt and thrive in challenging circumstances.

Cait falls for you deeply, realizing that your sweetness is not a weakness but a strength.

Danse:

Danse is initially cautious around you, expecting you to be naive due to your sweet and accepting demeanor. However, he's pleasantly surprised when he witnesses your quick thinking and resourcefulness during a perilous situation.

Your kindness and helpfulness earn his respect, and he admires your ability to handle yourself in tough situations.

Danse develops feelings for you, impressed by your combination of kindness and savvy decision-making skills.

Hancock:

Hancock is amused by your sweetness and helpfulness, initially thinking you might be a bit naive about the dangers of the Commonwealth. However, he's pleasantly surprised when you prove to be street smart and savvy in various situations.

Your accepting nature and open-mindedness capture his interest, and he admires your ability to see the good in people while still being aware of the harsh realities of the world.

Hancock develops strong feelings for you, fascinated by your unique blend of kindness and savvy insight.

MacCready:

MacCready is cautious around you at first, assuming you're naive because of your sweet and accepting personality. However, he quickly realizes that you're more savvy than you appear when you show exceptional skill in handling dangerous situations.

Your helpfulness and compassion make a lasting impression on him, and he admires your ability to adapt and survive in tough circumstances.

MacCready falls for you, drawn to your kindness and impressed by your hidden savvy nature.

Nick Valentine:

Nick initially sees you as naive, given your sweet and accepting demeanor. However, he's amazed when you display a keen understanding of complex situations and handle them with grace and intelligence.

He finds your kindness and empathy touching, and he admires your ability to see through people's facades while still maintaining your positive outlook.

Nick develops strong feelings for you, intrigued by your combination of sweetness and savvy awareness of the world around you.

Cooper:

When you first met, Coop was fairly dismissive of you. He thought you were just going to get yourself killed fairly soon. Your generous nature was a sign of naïveté in his eyes. So he wanted as little to do with you as possible.

Then you gave him a months supply of vials for free. And he decided to stick with you. Deciding the best repayment was to protect you from the dangers of the Wasteland and yourself.

That's when he learned just how much he'd underestimated you. You were kind and always willing to help absolutely anyone but you were not one that could taken advantage of.

And that's what really impressed him. The more of your acumen that Cooper saw, the more he grew to care about you. Including your altruistic nature.

[nightlyrequiem]

I just got an idea of Valeria trying to court a painfully obvious and slow reader. I was reading your bimbo hcs and just thought of it. All I can think of for reference is Adrien Agreste from miraculous. The reader would unintentionally friendzone Valeria, making it seem impossible for Valeria to succeed. Do with this information what you please :p ^_^

-💋xoxo

I love love love the oblivious trope. Adrien's level of obliviousness was definitely something else. Especially with the wax statue scene...

I just think it's super fun when a character has to really work for that relationship. Like yes, show me you're truly committed. If they aren't willing to be unknowingly rejected five times, then I don't WANT IT!

also since you mentioned the bimbo headcanons then I'm going to assume you wanted Reader to be similar here. I like this idea so much I might write a little one-shot for it someday

Valeria and Oblivious Reader

Valeria absolutely ADORES you. Even if you maybe aren't too bright. You and Valeria met because you worked at a clothing store. She just happened to stop by one day to check it out and saw you very enthusiastically styling some woman.

Suddenly Valeria had no sense of style and needed you to help her out. She approached you confidently and was pleasantly surprised to find you not intimidated by her. In fact, you gushed over her tattoos and touched her arm. You also loved her 'super cool haircut.'

Valeria proceeded to show up whenever she could. Chatting you up and befriending you. It wasn't hard, you were so friendly and eager to talk to her. Unfortunately, you didn't pick up on flirting. At all. At first, it could be excused, she was being subtle and testing the waters but one time she told you how kissable your lips looked, and you just replied with all the lip products you used. Valeria did not care about the brand of lip-gloss you used. Although she did go and buy some. She'd put it on her lips and pretend she just kissed you.

Bless her heart, she was doing her best. You took her compliments on your figure as friendly bantering.

Valeria was very generous with her gifts and money, too. Always showing up with roses. Jewelry. She even paid for your rent a few times and always paid for your dates hangouts. Oh, you like that dress but can't afford it? Valeria will get it for you. You just have to give her a kiss first. You laughed off her silly words.

When flirting didn't work, Valeria tried to make herself seem more physically attractive. Tighter shirts to show off her chest and arms, taking extra care into styling her hair. Valeria was proud of her physique and would often flex for you, hoping to get a compliment. She tried out eyeliner, but you had to wipe it off and fix it for her. Not that she minded of course. You had your hands on her face and were practically staring right into her eyes.

"Just a few inches and we'll be kissing." She said. Her voice was serious and low, hoping you'd take the bait and close the gap. You just giggled, and she left feeling defeated.

She even tried confessing at one point. She sat you down one day and told you how much you meant to her. How happy she was to have you in her life. When you responded by saying you knew exactly how she felt and that you felt the same, she got so excited thinking you two were finally going to become an item. Then you spoke again, shattering those dreams.

"You're such a good friend!"

Valeria just stared at you before forcing a smile onto her lips. She agreed then left.

She had attempted to ask you out numerous times, too. She figured taking you to a fancy restaurant outside of the city would be self-explanatory. She even dressed up for the occasion. You were thoroughly impressed and yet somehow still missed the mark. Referring to the date as a 'hangout.'

She'd boast about her wealth and achievements in hopes of attracting you. Valeria makes so much money, she could take care of you. She actually just had her bathroom remodeled, didn't you know? The bathtub is big enough for two people, you should come over and join her for a nice warm bath and some wine. She just got a new bed too and it's so comfortable but too big for just her. She needs someone to come keep her warm at night. She'd love to cook you breakfast in bed sometime. Oh, and she saw this beautiful sheer lingerie set. You'd look gorgeous in it. Incredibly obvious flirting and you somehow, SOMEHOW thought she was being friendly.

"Oh, I've never shared a bath with a friend before."

Valeria wanted to rip her hair out.

Things were looking hopeless. She was beginning to think you did pick up what she was laying down. That you were just friendzoning her on purpose. She invited you to her house one day and made you dinner, listening to you ramble. After you were finished eating she invited you to sit with her on the couch and once you were sat, she grabbed your thigh and got up in your face.

"I want you to be my girlfriend."

She made sure she was very clear this time. No room for interpretation.

"In a romantic way. I want us to sleep together and wake up together. I want to live together and go on romantic dates."

You gasped, all surprised. You totally didn't see this coming. Why didn't Valeria give you any clues?? Of course you want to be her girlfriend. It took a year and a couple of months but you finally got the hint.

[natti-ice]

Virgin Remus whimpering while you suck his cock 🥵🥵

Pairing: virgin!Remus Lupin x reader

Warnings: 18+mdni, blow job, cum eating

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

Tonight Remus had finally agreed to take your relationship a step further, when you first started dating he was open with you about still being a virgin. He was very nervous that you would look at him differently but was pleasantly surprised when you told him that you didn't mind and was willing to take things at his pace.

For weeks you two had been making out like crazy, kissing each other for hours till your mouths were raw and aching for release. Remus always pushed your hand away softly whenever you tried to touch his thigh. But tonight was different.

He asked if you could give him a blow job, this surprised you but accepted without hesitation. You wanted to make him feel good but his comfort mattered above all else.

You started off slow, kissing up and down his neck then working your way down. You teased him through his pants making him hard instantly, you slowly drop down to your knees and pull his cock out. You take your time on him, giving his hard member the love and care it deserves. You kiss his tip softly before taking him into your mouth.

He lets out a soft moan as his cock is engulfed by your warm, wet mouth, he strokes your head softly as you start to go faster. You keep your eyes on his face as you take more of his length in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head up and down. He squirms under your touch, you can feel his dick twitch in your mouth which tells you he's going cum soon.

"Oh fuck, baby" he says breathlessly, his chest rising up and down rapidly as your tongue swirls around his tip. It became so red and sensitive as you tease him relentlessly, the shaft of his cock completely stained by your lipstick. Remus' moans turn into strained whimpers, his hands desperately grasp the sheets beneath him. "I'm about to-" he gasps before he could finish his sentence.

"oh, god!" His body shakes as he shoots his seed into your mouth, he lets out a loud whimper when you suck on his over sensitive tip after he cums. You quickly swallow his cum feeling completely satisfied after giving him his first blow job.

Tags: @marshymallo

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello Miss Raven!!!

First of all, I wanna tell you I'm a great fan of your work, it helps me understand better a world that I love, so please don't stop doing it!

Secondly, I wanna know if you know of the existence of the 34 pages long essay of L*ona and your opinion on it due to the love-hate relationship you have with him.

Thank you once again for all that you do and I hope you have a really great year!!!!!

AAaaAAAAaAHHhhhHHHH, thank you for your kind words!! I've had my ups and downs with this fandom, but for the most part I've enjoyed my time here and very much intend to stick around~ Before I get to my thoughts, I'd like to give credit to @/arledrone, who I believe is the owner and author of said 34-page L*ona document! Thanks for penning this all the way back in... what, 2022?? For us to rediscover and read now in 2025 ^^

First thing's first, the document is actually quite old, so obviously there's a lot of materials missing (the Savanaclaw manga, light novel, the completed book 6, all the book 7 content, the new and relevant events/cards/voice lines/vignettes that have come out since then, etc. I'm of the belief that we don't necessarily need to look at this, as the point of the document seems to be pointing out Leona's very slow growth (and sometimes regression back to his worst traits) over the course of the content that was avaliable up until the point of the document's publication.

I won't bore you by regurgitating everything in the document; I'll just point at some things I found notable!

For the most part, I agree with the broad strokes and general interpretations of how Leona's character is presented. He's very complex and you often have to look beyond what he's initially claiming because he has ulterior motives or intentionally tries to act tough to conceal his own insecurities and vulnerabilities. (However, I did find the document a little difficult to follow in the beginning because it kind of felt like meandering with no clear topic or order of topics being established, just several paragraphs of listing Leona's traits without giving concrete examples to back them up? I guess the examples were provided eventually... still, I feel the document could have been edited and condensed a bit. The flow improved considerably when we got into summarization of the vignettes, book 2, and events.)

OP made very similar points as myself, such as saying that Leona isn't specifically after the crown, but what the crown represents (though this conclusion is common among L*ona fans). I was pleasantly surprised to even see them proposing that how others view Leona negatively may even be self-imposed--I had suggested the same thing a few years ago, but haven't seen this idea (or this particular phrasing) gain traction. I think my favorite parts of the document were comparing and contrasting Leona's reactions to criticism (in his School Uniform vignette vs in Fairy Gala). Vil appears as a major point of contention in both and serves as an excellent obstacle to challenge the arrogant and hard-headed Leona. I've compared the two before, and I think that helps to explain why Vil and Leona so often clash. Vil's the perfect person to go toe-to-toe with Leona, call him out for his BS, and push him to "be better". Fans frequently complain about how it feels like the OB boys didn't change significantly following their books--but they have, and they are, you just have to be willing to do the work to dig it up because the main story alone is not sufficient. It's a subtle thing, 'blink and you'll miss it' moments. All the main story can do is tell you "Leona is now consistently training with his team" and, "Leona is now getting off his ass to pitch in with physical labor". Book 6 certainly did a good job of showing us his development, but a lot of it I wager is personal reflection, and that's not going to always be easy to spot of manifest in a tangible, easy-to-see way, especially given how little we interact with the guy directly. We should be more cognizant that character change can happen off-screen (ie not in the main story) and outside of the presence of Yuu, and is not automatic or done in huge leaps. I think I would have liked it if Leona's minor roles were also touched on, but I understand why they were left out. It's a lot of information to look through, and there was less value in events like Beans Day, Ghost Marriage, etc. compared to instances where he was far more proactive. I'd argue that the times where he doesn't feature as a main character serve to characterize him a lot as well (and thus have their value) though; he uses his cunning to find an "easy way" to victory (even if it ended up failing in the end), he gets competitive with Vil over something he doesn't even care about due to his deeply rooted superiority complex, etc.

That about summarizes my thoughts! Apologizes if it was short, it was tough to really comment on stuff since at that point I’d only be repeating what’s written in the document.

[morganas-pendragons]

stargazing | celebrimbor

HUZZAH A S2 gif

@pentaghasm and I have been playing ideas off each other for a fun project I'm working on, which will be revealed here within the next month. in the meantime, let's clear out the ideas I've had in my drafts for 3 months!

i intended this to be a drabble and it FAILED lol

tag: @celebrimbormylove @thesolarangel @ladyoflindon @erebusbabylon - let me know if you want to be tagged!!

***

Time passes. You find out that the more you and Celebrimbor spend time together, the more comfortable you feel and the more willing you are to initiate the physical contact he so clearly desires. It's so easy with him.

A soft knock at his forge door late in the evening beckons a new idea: Stargazing. Hopefully, it has the intended effect.

"Celebrimbor?"

It takes a moment for him to reach the door and answer to, but when he does, Celebrimbor brightens at the sight of you. "My dear, come in!" He exclaims, ushering you inside and then frowning once he realizes you might not be making a social call. "It's late... are you well? Or has something happened?"

You shake your head. "No no, nothing is wrong. I wanted to ask you something."

He relaxes visibly and smiles. "You may ask me whatever you want."

"The stars are particularly clear outside. Would you-" You shuffle nervously on your feet. "Would you like to come out and gaze with me? I've found a spot over the last few times I've done this. I'd like to share it with you."

He's pleasantly surprised by your request, and his face shows it. "I would be honored to," Celebrimbor remarks. "Lead the way."

Before you approach the door, you extend your hand expectantly. There is a moment when Celebrimbor just stares down at it, his brain working overtime to try and lift his own. His fears and insecurities swirl within his mind, but he finally finds the ability to move his fingers and feel the warmth of your skin on his.

It's heavenly, it is addictive. How has he gone this long without it?

You grin. That's a good step forward. "Come on, I think you'll love this. You may want to grab your cloak." You reach upward to throw the hood of your own over your head, fingertips brushing the holly leaf hairpin he'd helped you craft several months before.

Celebrimbor follows you out of the forge willingly, in the process of unfolding his own cloak so he can put it on. His own holly leaf pin stands proud against his collarbone.

He frowns as he realizes you are heading towards the city gates.

"Wait, wait-" He calls. "Where is this spot?"

"Shhh... You'll see. It's not too far out." You absently wave your hand over your shoulder at the buildings looming about the two of you. "There is no suitable spot in the city to get the view you see out here."

You come to a stop outside of the city gates. Knowing that you are within Celebrimbor's charge, the guards are familiar with you and the fact you are constantly in and out of the city. They know your spot. They know that you frequently leave here in search of quiet, of peace.

They also know you are always armed.

Celebrimbor follows you out of the city, eyes darting around in the darkness. A part of him is yelling that that they should not be out here without guards, and not when it's this dark out. He curses himself for not having thought to bring anything to defend them should the worst happen.

So enveloped in his own worries, Celebrimbor doesn't realize where you are leading him until the two of you come to a stop.

"Hey, we're fine out here. I promise. I come out here almost every night." Whispering softly in Quenya, you lean forward toward the fireflies at your feet who brighten at your command. It is not enough light to hide the view above them, but it provides a dim enough glow for them to see one another. "Look up, Celebrimbor."

Celebrimbor drags himself out of his head and does as you ask. Suddenly, his own fears are the last thing on his mind.

"This..." Celebrimbor falters as he looks over to you, eyes filled with warmth and quiet yearning. "I am honored you share this with me."

Black bleeds into midnight blue that covers an entire canvas of stars above you. The river echoes in the distance, a quiet bubbling of water that flows around Eregion.

You motion to the ground. "The grass is dry and the cloaks are warm. will you lay with me?" The words are out before you can take them back, and your cheeks redden at the implication and how it will likely frighten him. You want him so badly to feel safe like you do around him.

Celebrimbor wills himself to not think of the other ways your words can be interpreted. It was highly irregular for the Lord of Eregion to be out past dark without guards, let alone with an unchaperoned elleth. He quashed any thoughts of propriety by reminding himself you were different.

You settle yourself against his side with comfortable ease, extending your hand for his after resting your head on his shoulder. "Let me see your hand," You said. "I have many tales to tell about these stars, but you cannot leave without being able to recognize them. It would be most unfortunate."

Celebrimbor gives you his hand without question, though he wonders what that has to do with the stars.

You smile down at him and drag your fingers across his palm before asking, "Is this okay? I don't want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable."

Celebrimbor suppresses a shiver and instead smiles at you reassuringly. "I promise you that you never make me feel uncomfortable."

You note his response and lean inward to press a kiss to his cheek before beginning to point out each constellation.

The feel of your fingers against his palm was one thing, but your lips? On his cheek? Celebrimbor isn't sure how to react. Does he kiss you back? On the cheek? Lips?

Does he just smile and shrug it off as you tell him about the stars?

His heart hammers loudly in his chest, which makes it difficult to discern anything you're saying. He swallows hard to regain his control once more.

"Hey," You say softly. You're propped up on your elbow over him, one hand on his chest, brow furrowed in concern. "Where did you go?"

Celebrimbor curses himself inwardly. Of course you noticed. How could you not? You notice everything about him.

"Forgive me," He murmurs, looking up at you. "I sometimes have difficulty getting out of my own mind." He lifts your joined hands and gently kisses the back of your own. "Please, continue."

You frown but settle back down, continuing to use your joined hands to point out the stars. There's a quiet passion behind your words, an aching familiarity for something you can't quite put your finger on.

When your voice falters off, you shiver and tighten your arms around yourself.

"Are you cold?" Celebrimbor asks. He is already sitting up and reaching for his cloak so he can wrap it around you. It's as warm as he is, and it smells like him, and you want nothing more than for him to wrap his arms around you.

A soft sigh breaks past your lips as his fingers press against your shoulders. "Thank you." You murmur, meeting his eyes over your shoulder. "For coming with me."

"I'm honored you thought of me, my dear. It does me well to get out of the city every now and then, I think." He smiles warmly at you. "It is more enjoyable in your company."

You tilt your head at him. "Will you walk me home?" You ask softly.

Celebrimbor lets out a bark of laughter. "As if I would let you walk back alone in the dark of night," There's a mischievous glint in his eyes as he teases you. "You must think me some unfeeling cad."

You smile and wrap your arm through his own. "Oh no," You argue. "You are my heart's protector. You are quite the opposite of unfeeling. Lead me home, love."

He comes to a complete stop.

"L-Love?" Celebrimbor repeats, completely dumbfounded at the endearment. Between the burn of your touch and the ache in him at your obvious deeper affections, he's not sure how to process all of this at once. The two of you haven't spoken at length about deeper feelings yet.

His are anchored to your soul, your existence, your smile.

All of you.

Awe flashes across your face at his confusion. He really does not understand how he too is worthy of the love he so often gives to everyone else. "Celebrimbor," You close the space between the two of you and reach for his hands. "It is a mere term of endearment for someone who knows how much I care about him by now. I could also say sweetheart, or my love if you want."

Your teasing tone eases the pounding of your own heart. It's equally as frightening for you as it is for him.

Celebrimbor clears his throat, pushing back the swelling emotion that threatened to come up his throat, and takes your hand in his. "Forgive me, I was simply unprepared. I will take any endearment you offer." He gestures back toward the city. "Might I escort you home?"

"Always."

He leads you back into Eregion and to your abode that he'd set aside for you in your earliest days of living in the city. It is not far from his own, and that is what you prefer.

When you arrive at your door, you turn and pull your hood down to properly look at him. He is the picture of beauty - all unkempt curls and soft eyes - as he patiently waits for you to go inside.

"I..."

Words fail you for the first time that night. You instead allow your actions to speak for you, stepping into Celebrimbor's space to stand on your tiptoes and cup his jaw with your hand as you kiss his cheek.

You linger just a little bit longer than before. His breath shudders beneath your fingers as you part, and your eyes fall on his parted lips as you step toward the door.

"Would you like me to join you for breakfast tomorrow?" You ask.

His eyes brighten. Celebrimbor is nothing if not one for his routine. "I would love nothing more," He replies, lips parting in that brilliant smile reserved for you that often makes your knees weak. "Sleep well, love."

You watch him go with a fierce ache in your heart.

Love.

[adventuringblind]

Don't leave me

Max Verstappen x reader, platonic Oscar piastri/Lando norris/ Charles Leclerc x reader

Genre: angst

Request: Yes, and I'm litterally in love with this piece

Summary: they are basically her brothers. They would do anything for each other. Max, even more so after realizing he loves her. He'd take a bullet for her if it meant keeping her safe. Too bad she beats him to it.

Warnings: graphic description of injuries and gunshot wounds. Blood, panic, live shooter.

Notes: written in third person

Masterlist

It's funny in this sport how friendships work. Your closest bonds are with your rivals. You grow up together racing if your trying to get noticed.

That's how the five of you were able to get close. Charles and Max met early on. They're pratically the same age, only a month separating them. She met them at several races, and things with them just stuck. Lando and her are the closest in age, meaning they were often in the same division for Karting. He, however, was able to get his spot in formula 1 faster than her. Leaving her in formula two for a year longer until she could join the three boys at the top. Oscar was a mystery. It helped that she and him were teammates for a season in formula 2. They got close during that time.

Now they are all together in Formula 1. Racing side by side. Making bets about who will win each race. Though nobody bets now because it's always Max. His domination insane so far this season.

They had created their own little dysfunctional family. She kept the boys in line, and they were definitely willing to fight anyone who touches her.

Max was a wildcard. She crushed on him growing up and never expected he would like her back. He had tired just confessing to her with words. His attempt went sideways quickly. Then he'd kissed her. After their last race of her rookie season.

He wasn't expecting her to kiss back and was pleasantly surprised when she did.

Both Charles and Lando were not surprised. However, they still sat him down like overprotective fathers and lectured him about how they wanted him to treat her properly.

And he has. It's been wonderful.

Oscar joining your small family this year added to the fun. Him and Lando get on well and the other three are just glad his calm aura can get the Brit to tone down if need be.

Max is now a two-time world champion and well on his way to a third. She couldn't be prouder of him, and the rest of her boys for that matter.

This race specifically, she's charing the podium with them. Max first, Lando with a shocking second, and her ending in third.

Charles owes her dinner now. He didn't think the McLaren upgrades would be so drastic.

The trophies are now being handed out. hers first. She lifts it up and smiles at the crowd.

She notices something odd, though. Some of the crowd is ducking and running away from the podium. Specifically from someone clad in black with a firearm aimed at Max.

Her body reacts quicker than she can think her actions through. Her legs are scaling the podium, throwing her body in front of Max to get him out of the way.

The shot rings out as they tumble to the ground together. A mess of limbs on the top step. She spots Lando dropping to the floor at the noise, and for a minute, she thinks it was him who was hit.

Her ears are ringing, and her breath is heavy. The faint sounds of yelling can be heard in the background. Max is saying something to her that she can't make out. Her only concern being that he's okay.

Questions about his safety and eyes scanning over his body to assess the damage. A brief moment of relief settles over her as she sees nothing wrong with him.

Max looks concerned, though. He's saying things to her she can't hear. Lando is next to him in seconds.

Then, the burning registers. Max's hands pull away from the side of her chest, and they are covered in glossy crimson. Coughs wrack through her. Uncontrollable and painful. The taste of copper filling in over her tongue.

Max is trying to keep her awake. He's begging her to keep her eyes open. Lando is shoving his hands over the wound. She can see tears running down his cheeks.

"I'm glad you're okay." Are the last words she manages before the pain gets too much. Black spots dance across her vision. She tries her best to focus on Max. Her lovers eyes refusing to leave hers.

She slips away into the blissful, pain-free feeling of unconsciousness.

~

Max is screaming in Dutch now. The crowd running away or being escorted out beneath him. Lando is next to putting pressure over the gaping hole in her chest.

The shot was meant for him.

He tries not to think about it as he attempts to keep himself grounded and his lover coherent.

Charles and Oscar are working to fight their way up to them. Their team and security held them back and haul them away to somewhere safe. Max can perfectly make out their shouts of protest.

Lando is next to try and get him off the bleeding female. Paramedics are now here to do their job, but he can't let go. Lando is forcing him his hands away, his hands keeping Max firmly placed on the ground as they haul her away.

He's screaming now. Both boys are covered in blood that isn't their own.

Oscar and Charles are finally freed and they are sprinting to the podium. The two arrivals attempting to console their friends.

~

The wait in the hospital is long and anxiety ridden. Max can feel the guilt eating him alive.

Him and Lando have long since cleaned their hands. The nurses let them wash themselves when they got to the hospital.

Charles has been attempting to console max. Reminding him that it isn't his fault and that she'll pull through. Their girl is a fighter.

Oscar has been attempting the same for his teammate. The Brit having gotten sick from the image replaying in his head.

It's hours until they are allowed to see her.

Even then it’s not much help. She’s breathing, but she’s not awake.

Max stays with her for days before Charles finally convinces him to go shower and eat a proper meal. Promising to watch her for him and let him know if anything changes.

He's grateful for Charles and is greatfull for the McLaren boys who have been dealing with the press.

He feels refreshed when he comes back, but the guilt is still there. It should be him lying in her place. It should have been him moving her out of the way.

It's the way Charles is trying to get his attention as he sits there crying. The Monegasque tapping his shoulder repeatedly. Yet Max can't bring himself to look at him.

It's been weeks now. The FIA had just announced they'd be racing again next weekend. The security is apparently being much better now. He resents them for not having sorted it out earlier and allowing someone with a gun into the race.

Charles is tapping more furiously now. His hand is now gripping Max's shoulder. Frustration boils up inside of him. He snaps his head towards the Ferrari driver but is met with your open eyes when he does so.

"I'm going to get a doctor." Whispers Charles.

The girl in the bed is disoriented but still trying to say his name. He can see the pain in her eyes. She is trying to hide it and put on a brave face, but it's obvious to him.

Max doesn't hold his tears back any longer. He sobs as he places gentle kisses to her knuckles. "I thought I lost you." He chokes.

The face that she can smile right now is a testament to her strength. She's being strong for him, and he knows it.

She moves closer to him despite the pain and wipes his tears away. "No need to cry, you're not losing me so easily."

[anonymousewrites]

Pearl of the Sea Chapter Three

Found Family! PoTC Cast x Teen! Reader

Platonic! Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann, Jack Sparrow, Tia Dalma x Reader

Chapter Three: Commandeering the Interceptor

Summary: Jack, Will, and (Y/N) escape Port Royal to go after Elizabeth.

Mouse Note: I'm back! I'm so so happy to be back to posting!

            (Y/N), Will, and Jack ran under the bridge near the harbor. They had escaped the fort and the town, but until they had escaped Port Royal entirely and were on the open seas, they weren’t in the clear.

            “We’re going to steal a ship?” said Will. His eyes widened as he saw which one Jack was looking at. “That ship?” It was a massive ship, the Dauntless, one of the finest under Norrington’s command.

            “Commandeer,” said Jack. “We’re going to ‘commandeer’ that ship. Nautical term.”

            (Y/N) snorted.

            “One question about your business, boy, laddie, or there’s no going.” Jack looked at them. “This girl. How far are you willing to go to save her?”

            “I’ll kill for my sister,” said (Y/N).

            “I’d die for her!” said Will.

            “Oh, good, no worries then,” said Jack. The pair certainly had commitment.

            He led them to several rowboats and snuck under one. Carefully, they carried it into the water, and (Y/N) and Will followed since they recognized it would disguise them from sight as they approached the ship.

            The physics of the water and the rowboat at the bottom of the bay provided them with air while they walked closer. The moment (Y/N) touched the water, they found themself smiling. They couldn’t help it.

            “This is either madness or brilliance,” said Will as they walked across the sandy harbor floor.

            “It’s remarkable how often those traits coincide,” said Jack.

            “As long as we make it, I don’t care which it is,” said (Y/N).

            Fortunately, that moment turned out to be more brilliance than madness, and once near the boat, they pushed upwards and swam. Jack led the way, grabbing a rope and climbing up the side of the boat. Will tread water and made sure (Y/N) grabbed on next and climbed. Their arms burned pleasantly as they finally exerted all the energy they had, and they felt strong and capable as they went.

            The three arrived at the helm, and Will drew a cutlass. Jack had his pistol in hand, and (Y/N) had a sword Will had grabbed for them before they headed to the harbor.

            “Everyone, stay calm!” said Jack, announcing their presence to the soldiers aboard. “We are taking over the ship.”

            “Aye! Avast!” said Will.

            The soldiers stared in surprise before bursting out laughing at Will’s pirate-talk. (Y/N) rolled their eyes.

            “This ship cannot be crewed by two men and a child,” jeered the officer aboard, Gillette. “You’ll never make it out of the bay.”

            “Uhuh, right,” said (Y/N).

            “Son,” said Jack, grinning and pointing his pistol between Gillette’s eyes. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow. Savvy?”

            Gillette swallowed and stepped back. (Y/N) tilted their head and smiled “innocently.”

            “I’d suggest you get into your lifeboats,” they chirped.

            Will looked at (Y/N), slightly concerned. That was a new tone of voice—slightly threatening, very self-assured. He knew that they were always playing a role around Swann and “civilized” society, but the seamless switch as if this was always inside them was disconcerting (if Will was honest, though, he also found it impressive).

            Jack gestured to the boats with his pistol. “Now, if you please.”

            The sailors scrambled to obey, and soon, it was just Jack, Will, and (Y/N). Unfortunately, it was true that they could not leave the harbor with just three people.

            As they tried to unfurl sails, Gillette drifted with his sailors towards shore and shouted to Norrington, making his own preparations. “They’re taking the Dauntless! Commodore! They’re taking the ship!”

            Norrington grabbed his spyglass and looked towards the rowboat to see Gillette shouting wildly.

            “Sparrow, Turner, and the Governor’s ward! They’re taking the Dauntless!” cried Gillette.

            Norrington trained his spyglass on the three figures on the Dauntless. “Rash, Turner. Too rash.” He was also quite surprised at the gall of (Y/N), a teenager, joining a pirate and apprentice blacksmith to steal a ship and escape to sea. “How terrible, a childhood rebellion. Disgraceful.” He tsked. “That is without a doubt the worst pirate I have ever seen.”

            Aboard the Dauntless, the trio were preparing for Norrington to arrive.

            “Here they come,” warned Will.

            Jack grinned.

            (Y/N) noted it and cocked their head. “You were hoping for that, weren’t you?”

            Jack looked at them. “One of you is bright! Well, that’s good!”

            Will scoffed. “What’s your plan, then, Jack?”

            “Let them come aboard!” said Jack.

            He ran to the stern to hide as the Interceptor approached. Will and (Y/N) followed, and they watched as the Interceptor threw grapples over to the Dauntless and swung over to search for them. All the sailors climbed over, and Norrington looked over the deck angrily.

            “Come alone!” said Jack, grabbing a rope. He swung over to the Interceptor, now empty.

            (Y/N) grinned, grabbed a rope, and swung. Will was right behind them.

            “Laddie, cut us free!” said Jack, swaggering across the deck.

            (Y/N) swung their sword across all the of the ropes tying the ships together, and the sails caught the wind. The Interceptor moved forward, leaving the Dauntless alone. Norrington whirled as he spotted it sailing away.

            “Sailors, back to the Interceptor, now!” ordered Norrington.

            Several men grabbed ropes and tried to swing across, but the Interceptor, one of the fastest ships at sea, was already ahead of the Dauntless, and the men were sent flying into the ocean.

            Jack grinned and waved his hat to Norrington. “Thank you, Commodore, for getting us ready to make way! We’d have had a hard time by ourselves!”

            The Dauntless couldn’t be prepared by three people, but the Interceptor had been prepared by a large crew. It would just be steered by three people, quite doable for a bit.

            (Y/N) let out a laugh at Norrington’s frustrated expression and how well the plan had turned out. Not to mention…they were out on the sea, the one place they’d been forbidden from going to. (Y/N) had the wind at their back and the salty sea air to breath.

            (Y/N) let out another laugh.

            Jack and Will looked at them, but they just grinned wider.

            For some reason, despite the danger they were sailing towards, they had never felt better.

l

            “When I was a lad living in England, my mother raised me by herself,” said Will as they sailed peacefully. He sharpened his cutlass as the wind took the Interceptor open the open seas. “After she died, I came out here, looking for my father.”

            “Is that so?” Jack really wasn’t paying attention and was taking care of the ship.

            “My father, Bill Turner?” Will stood and followed Jack towards the helm. “It was only after you learned my name that you agreed to help.” (Y/N) looked at Will and Jack. “Since that’s what I wanted, I didn’t press the matter.” Jack ignored him. “I’m not a simpleton, Jack. You knew my father.”

            (Y/N) looked up at Jack as he paused before facing Will properly.

            “I knew him,” said Jack. “Probably one of the few people that knew him as William Turner. Everyone else called him ‘Bootstrap’ or ‘Bootstrap Bill.’ ” He turned away.

            Will frowned. “Bootstrap?” he repeated.

            “Good man. Good pirate,” said Jack casually.

            Will looked at Jack in confusion, and (Y/N) tilted their head. They hadn’t expected that.

            “I swear, you look just like him,” said Jack.

            “It’s not true. He was a merchant sailor,” said Will. “A good, respectable man who obeyed the law.”

            (Y/N) winced. They doubted Jack was lying because he didn’t have a reason to, but Will clearly didn’t want to listen to it.

            “He was a bloody pirate, a scallywag,” said Jack, turning back to the helm.

            “My father was not a pirate!” Will drew his sword.

            “Will, let’s not do this,” said (Y/N), looking at the sword warily.

            “Put it away, son,” said Jack. “It’s not worth you getting beat again.”

            “You didn’t beat me. You ignored the rules of engagement,” said Will. “In a fair fight, I’d kill you.”

            “That’s not incentive for me to fight fair, is it?” said Jack.

            “I don’t think there is such thing as a fair fight,” said (Y/N), sitting back and folding their arms. “If someone is more skilled than the other, then it’s not fair fundamentally. People just try to make themselves feel better by having ‘rules.’ Real world is a little wilder.” Like the sea.

            Jack and Will paused and looked at them after that strange speech. Honestly, (Y/N) was a little surprised, too. They had just spoken their mind, something they only did with Will and Elizabeth. And they had enjoyed it, letting whatever words or opinions they had—no matter how against society they may be—be spoken aloud.

            “…Where did you come from?” said Jack.

            (Y/N) shrugged. “Found in the ocean. I don’t know anything more than that.”

            “…” Jack and Will looked at them. Jack glanced at Will, who shrugged as if saying “it’s the truth, no matter how weird it is.”

            “You have a strange way of talking, laddie, but you’re right!” said Jack jovially. “On the seas, there are only two things that matter—what a person can do and what a person can’t do.” He looked at Will. “For instance, you can accept that your father was a pirate and a good man, or you can’t.” He looked at (Y/N). “And you can accept that the ‘civilized’ gents want somethin’ tamer in the world, or you can’t.” He grinned at both. “But pirate is in your blood, mate, and the sea is in yours, laddie. You’ll have to square with that someday.”

            “And what about you?” (Y/N) looked at him. “What can or can’t you do?”

            “I can lead this ship astray and not work with ya, but I can’t bring this ship into Tortuga by me onesies,” said Jack brightly. “So. Can you sail under the command of a pirate? Or can you not?”

            Will hesitated before sheathing his sword. “Tortuga?”

            Jack grinned. “Tortuga.”

            “What is Tortuga?” asked (Y/N).

            “The greatest town a pirate would ever want to step onto land in,” said Jack.

l

            (Y/N) stood at the front of the ship and leaned over the side. They gazed at the water rushing by below. The sun had lowered in the sky and sent streaks of light dancing across the waves. The highlights illuminated fish jumping up from the water, and (Y/N) smiled. With the wind whipping their hair and the smell of the sea flying around them, (Y/N) had never felt better. They felt free, like they were the waves themselves rushing by. They knew this was only a brief moment, one that would end as soon as they saved Elizabeth, but it was still nice. (Y/N) felt like themself.

            From the helm, Jack and Will watched them lean over the water below. Will was tense, waiting for them to topple overboard, but they hadn’t despite how long they’d been sitting there.

            “Mate, you’re gonna explode before we get to Tortuga,” said Jack.

            “I don’t want them to get hurt,” said Will. “Elizabeth would never forgive me if something happened to them. I would never forgive myself.”

            Jack looked at (Y/N). “The lad seems fine. They’ve got good sea legs.”

            Will frowned. “Yes, but they were found floating into the harbor. That means the sea is dangerous for them.” He sighed. “There’s a reason we want them to stay away from the ocean. We don’t them to be lost again. Whoever their family was, they lost them to the sea. We won’t want them to lose us or their own lives.”

            “Mate, the seas are the seas,” said Jack, leaning back. “Better to let them understand it than fear it.”

            Will glanced at Jack. For the playful pirate, it was an usually philosophical comment. He looked back at (Y/N), who looked like they would lean out and touch the ocean if given a chance.

            He hated to admit it, but Jack was right. The ocean was dangerous, that couldn’t be changed. Yet (Y/N) always sought it out, no matter how many times they were warned off. Perhaps Jack was right—even if he was just making an offhanded comment—and (Y/N) should be allowed to be with the sea in order to not fear it. Not that they seemed to. They wanted to be with the ocean more than most people.

            Will sighed. He wasn’t cut out for this, worrying so much for Elizabeth and (Y/N). It couldn’t be good for his health.

            But he did. He cared too much not to.

Taglist:

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[luveline]

for early eddie and roanie!! maybe eddie and roan sees you in your work get up for the first time and they’re just in awe and think you’re so pretty!

ty for requesting ♡ eddie and roan —eddie and his daughter meet you for dinner after work and find themselves surprised at your attire. fem!reader

"Dad, what–" Roan stammers, smart but young enough to struggle anymore, "what are we doing, um, here?" 

Eddie puts the car in park. "We're having dinner in a restaurant! How fun, right?" 

"Right. We're not going home?" 

Eddie gets out of the car and takes a breather. It's weird for them to go somewhere after daycare that isn't home or the grocery store, he can understand her confusion. He's nervous about it himself, and he could really do without more sweating. Right now is the only time you could see him for the next couple of days (a friend's birthday, a hair appointment, a work commitment you couldn't squeeze out of), so despite his bedraggled appearance and Roan's stained dress, he's here. 

Eddie opens Roan's door. "Well, Y/N's busy for a couple of days, but she still wanted to see us," he says, unclicking Roan's car seat. He lifts her out and sets her on the asphalt of the parking lot. "So we have to do it right now. She squeezed us in." 

"Oh…" 

Eddie crouches down in front of her to smoothe the hair from her face. Careful, he brushes kinks and coils behind her ears, hands dancing down to her shoulders, her arms. He dusts her off. "Let me get your cardigan from the trunk. It's cold, huh?" 

"Shivers!" she says. 

"No, not shivers!" Eddie guides her away from the door to close it. Roan takes his hand without being asked, following him to the trunk. "Here, babe, let's get this on and then we'll go inside. We should have a little bit of time before Y/N comes." You're cutting out of work early. 

Eddie worries you'll get a good look at him all grease-covered and clammy and turn straight back around, but this is exactly as he looked when you asked him out the first time, and despite being busy you were insistent on seeing him. Good signs. Plus, you've seen him dressed up, so maybe you could just superimpose that image of him onto his frizz. 

Eddie makes sure Roan is buttoned up warm before offering his arms. "Want me to carry you? I know you've had a long day, haven't you?" Roan wraps her arms around his neck and he stands, lifting her against his chest. She calms him down whenever he's nervous, resting her cheek on his. "Okie dokie, let's go inside."

"Kiss?" Roan asks. 

Eddie kisses her chubby cheek. "Kiss," he says, the wool of her cardie soft under his hand. 

He rushes into the restaurant to get her out of the cold, rubbing her back in a pointless mission to keep her as warm as possible. It's a small restaurant inside of an Inn, dark wood and carpeting lit by butter yellow sconces. It's nice but not fancy, a family place you chose without any input from him. He's always pleasantly surprised by how willing you are to have Roan join you —this wouldn't work if you weren't, but some people wouldn't be as accepting of it as you are. He thinks he's pretty lucky. 

Luckier still when he sees you already waiting at the little podium. You're distracted by something in your pocket, looking up at the sound of the door closing. "Hi, Munsons!" you say, big sweet smile on your face. 

"What are you wearing?" Roan asks. 

You give a startled laugh. "This is what I have to wear at my stupid job. Do I look silly?" 

"You look beautiful," Eddie says. 

He means it more than anything. He's used to seeing you in nice skirts with a little chain necklace on. And that's perfect, you always look like the sweetest thing god ever let near him, but this is a different kettle of fish completely. You look— 

"So pretty!" Roan says, clapping her hands together. 

You visibly fluster at the double compliments. "I have to wear this stuff to seem professional. I always feel like I'm playing dress up." 

"Are you kidding?" Eddie asks. "You always look great, this is… you look stellar. I mean." He shakes his head with feigned disapproval. "They let you walk around like that?"

You bring your hands to your cheeks.

"I'm kinda embarrassed, we look like a mess compared to you," Eddie says, shifting Roan in his arms sheepishly, his shoulders hiking. 

"What are you talking about? You guys look nice! And they know it's after working hours anyways, you don't have to be perfect. Just hungry. What do you want, princess? They have a buffet, does that sound nice? We can have unlimited mac and cheese." 

Roan's stomach gives a gurgle right on schedule. She nods emphatically. 

You nod back, the buzz of their compliments here to stay as you step up to the podium. "I have reservations for three, under L/N?" you sound infectiously pleased. 

Eddie dips his head down to Roan's ear. "Thank you for being so nice, babe. I think you made Y/N really happy." 

"Can I have clothes like that?" Roan asks. 

Eddie chuckles, picturing Roan in a button up shirt with a stiff collar and slacks, smart black kitten heels to match. "Maybe when you're older. I don't think you'd find it comfy enough." 

"It's actually not too bad," you say, as the three of you follow a hostess down a gentle gradient into the restaurant. 

Eddie shakes his head behind Roan's. You catch his plea, coughing suddenly. "I mean, the heels make my toes cry and I can't do any running or dancing in my pants, but you get used to it, Ro."

Roan lifts her lips to Eddie's ear. "I like dancing," she whispers. 

Eddie pats her back. "I know. Let's stick to comfy clothes for now, okay?" 

"Okie dokie. Why don't you wear stuff like that to work, dad?" 

"It's hard to explain." 

"You don't want to look nice?" 

Eddie sighs as you laugh behind your hand. "It's dirty work, bub, I don't know what to tell you." 

[ursuburbanmother]

I’m On Fire, But I’m Trying Not to Show It || Chapter Three

Pairing: Angus Tully x fem!reader

a/n: Mothers and daughters?? Fathers and sons?!?

Word Count: ~4k

Find: Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Enjoy!

December 23, 1970

You’ve been stuck in your own mind all day. It's decided to shut down like a panic room and you can see Angus try to crack it open with his attempts at small talk. Mary and Mr. Hunham share uncomfortable glances at each other, slightly humored about the quiet lunch they are having that would usually be filled by chatter from you two.

Angus leans in close to your ear, “You said we would talk today.”

“After this,” you murmur, sinking into the wooden chair.

“If this is about yesterday, it was just a weird moment, it didn’t mean anything.”

“Stop talking,” you say as nicely as you can when you see Mary's eyebrow quirk up at Angus’s comment.

“I have a surprise,” Mr. Hunham suddenly announces. Your eyes snap to him, embracing the distraction. He brings out a platter full of Christmas cookies and places them on the table. “These were a gift to me, and I would like to share them with both of you.”

Angus is unimpressed and by the way he is scowling, he's upset too. “Look at them. Look at all the festive shapes. Snowflakes and gingerbread men. A tree. A little mitten,” Mr. Hunham picks up the red and white frosted cookie and takes a bite. “Mmm,” he looks pleasantly surprised.

“Thank you, Mister. This is really nice,” You reach for the snowflake. You’re not sure how well sloppy joe and sugar will settle in your stomach but you're willing to gamble on it. Mr. Hunham gives you a thin smile.

“May I go to the bathroom, sir?” Angus asks, already pushing away his dish and getting up from his chair.

“You may,” he sighs, watching the boy walk away.

“Well, I’m trying,” he says to the group, defeated.

You give him a weak grin, “These are good cookies though. If that means anything to you.”

Mary chuckles at your exchange. Mr. Hunham gets up and goes the same direction Angus had exited. Your eyes follow him until it is impossible for you to see him without breaking your neck. You turn to Mary who is close to finishing her cigarette. She blows the smoke away from your direction and pushes the packet towards you.

“Want one?”

“Oh. No thanks. That's Angus’s thing.”

“Alright. But don’t go asking for one later.”

“I won’t,” you laugh quietly. You hear voices in the hallway get louder. Angus shouts something you can’t make out and Mr. Hunham's response follows shortly after. Their noise fades away and you rub your tired eyes to snap you awake. You never could get enough sleep. You swear you could sleep for twenty-four hours and still feel groggy.

“What's going on with you two?” Mary asks.

“Angus and I?”

“No. You and the ghost that haunts the infirmary,” she took a sip of her coffee while shaking her head in amusement.

“My mother says I'm a bit of a blabbermouth. I don’t know if you want to hear the details,” you warn.

“Give me the reader's digest,” she pats the seat next to her. Bringing your coca-cola with you, you go cross over to her side of the table. “Okay. Tell me if you think I’m crazy-”

“I will.”

“-But Angus has been acting so weird. One second, he's all moody, a regular Holden Claufield, and the next he’s nice and being the Angus I’ve known all my life. I don’t know… Maybe he’s at the stage where his feelings swing around like a pendulum.”

“That's all-teenagers sweethearts. Even at adulthood, that pendulum never stops swinging. At some point it may slow down only for a gust of wind to return it into motion.”

“I mean he’s always been a little short-tempered, just never towards me. Yesterday,” you wonder if you are getting too personal now, “he called me selfish.”

“Selfish? The girl that just scarfed down a cookie to make an old man feel better.”

You shrug. You never knew how to take compliments. “I know I should just ask him what's really going on, but I don’t want him to blow up on me again.”

“If he does come to me. I’ll whip him into shape for you.”

“Thank you,” you giggle. “What do you think happened out there?” You tilt you heard towards the doors.

“Their usual bickering. That boy is probably paying the price for cursing Hunham out right now.”

“How long have you known Mr. Hunham?”

She paused before answering, “A while now.”

“Has he always been this… strong-willed?”

“Stubborn as a mule you mean? Yes, he has. Although the years have certainly hardened him more.”

“Why’s that?"

“Not sure. He’s a private man. I haven’t been able to pry anything out of him.”

“Not even when he’s,” you make your hand into a fist, extending the pink and thumb. You move it back and forth to mimic drinking from a bottle.

Mary cackles. “Not even then.”

…

The stupidest thing Angus had done was what he had done to you yesterday. He doesn’t know why he said it, why he had called you selfish. It just tumbled out. It was like he was a man possessed. But launching off a springboard in the gym in an act of rebellion was a close second.

He numbed the pain thinking of you. Granted if you were here, you would be lecturing him non-stop and telling him how he should have known better. But at least you would have been here, and he wouldn’t have to watch Mr. Hunham marinate in his misery. At least you would have been there to hold his hand as they popped his arm back into its socket.

Although his mouth had gotten him in trouble the last few days, it had been helpful in getting them out of the hospital insurance issue. And it was about to get him a free burger now too.

They had arrived at the local watering hole. It was jam packed with people getting tipsy with beer. He could hear the clink of billiards and the white noise on the TV.

“I think I’ll start with a beer. How about you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Tully. Get your cheeseburger.”

“They’ve got Miller High Life. The Champagne of Beers.”

“Oh?” Mr. Hunham said, but Angus could tell he was just trying to amuse him.

Angus shut the menu as their waitress came up the stairs to their little booth. “Okay, you ready to order? Oh!” she gasped as she turned to his teacher.

“Miss Crane,” Hunham touched his chest, “As I live and breathe. What-, what are you doing here?”

“Oh hi guys! Yeah, I always pick up a little extra work over Thanksgiving and Christmas,” Miss Crane explained.

It looked as if Mr. Hunham had been snapped awake, “Well, um, this is Mr. Tully,” he motioned his hand towards him.”

“Sure, I know you and your little girlfriend. You two are always glued together like gum on a pole,” Miss Crane said teasingly.

“Y/n L/n," he beamed, "she goes to the girl's school and we’re just friends. But um, we met outside Dr. Woodrup’s office. I was wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet,” he smiled as innocently as he could.

“I didn’t know about the wrongly part,” she shares a laugh with Hunham.

“He’ll have a cheeseburger,” he orders for Angus.

“And a Miller High Life please,” Angus adds quickly.

“Uh. No you will not,” Hunham says sternly.

“Where do you stand on Miller High Life, Miss Crane?”

“Well, like they say, it’s the Champagne of Beers.”

Angus turns to Hunham, “And she’s a professional.”

“Okay, one cheeseburger,” Miss Crane waits for him to fill the blank.

He relents and orders reluctantly, “And a Coke.”

“I’ll have a cheeseburger as well,” Hunham smiled.

“Two cheeseburgers,” she jots down the order on her notepad

“And a Jim Beam. On the rocks. Please.”

“Okay, you got it guys,” She smiles at them before exiting. Paul watches her go and Angus grins at the scene.

“Ouch. You two have chemistry,” he shakes his hand like he had touched a hot plate.

“Okay. That’s the Percodan talking,” Hunham dismisses.

“I don’t know. Seeing her like this, I think she’s pretty attractive,” he hopes his teacher will take the bait.

“Listen, you hormonal vulgarian, that woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculation.”

Angus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Well, may I at least go to the bathroom? Sir?”

“You mean the payphone?”

They have a stare off before he runs off to the back of the restaurant. Angus scours any leftover change in his back pocket of his jeans. He finds enough to make a call. He scans the room, making sure that Mr. Hunham isn’t hunting him down like last time. He dials the number to the Barton infirmary and hopes you are lounging in your room.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he chants under his breath. Instead he gets the dial tone. He curses and slams the phone back to its original place.

…

You haven’t seen Angus since the morning. You've been spending all afternoon with Mary instead. You helped with the lunch dishes and are preparing the potatoes for supper later. Mary had a radio in the kitchen which you happily hummed to. Christmas music flooded your ears and reminded you of the holiday. In the halls of Barton there were no decorations, and one could probably convince a kid that the Grinch had stolen them in the dead of night.

“Mary, I'm done,” you proudly show her the bowl of potatoes. In your house most of the cooking was done by private chefs who came in and out so irregularly that you could never learn their names. Understandably, they didn’t have time to entertain a ten-year-olds insistent questions about what it meant to julienne a vegetable.

“Great. Why don’t you start boiling them and get started on chopping those mushrooms.”

“Okay,” you add water to a pot before adding the chomped potato. You find the mushrooms and cut them as thinly as you can. After you place them on the counter next to Mary who has already prepared everything else.

You admire as she adds them to a pan of melted butter. She drops salt, pepper, Italian dressing and other spices you can’t name, without even having to use measuring tools. “You’re Julia Child!” You praise.

“Just years of practice.”

“Hey, when do I get to sauté and mix things?” You get on your tiptoes to get a better look at the mushrooms turning a dark brown.

“When I know you won’t hurt yourself doing it,” she gave a pointed look at the bandaids on your fingers. You may have cut yourself in your first attempts at handling a knife. You hide the hand behind your back. “Sorry.”

You go to sit in a stool by the oven. You open a borrowed copy of a Kerouac book that Angus had in his suitcase. The Subterraneans, written in three days apparently and no offense to Jack but it shows. Mary notices your squinting as you go try to make sense of the writing, inching your face closer and closer to the paper.

“Are you planning to do something with that? The books.” Mary stops her stirring and lowers the heat of the stove. She walks over to you and glances at pages.

“What? Like with writing?” You ask, “I’m not sure. I know I should have figured it out by now but I just never got one of those woosh moments,” you sway your hands in the air.

“Woosh moment?”

“It's like what we talked about with the pendulum. I feel like I've been hanging still and waiting for the wind to send me on my way. I wait for it to push me with the strength of a tornado. Woosh. Almost to flood me with a feeling of knowing? I’m not the best at words…” you trail off.

“You're telling me nothing interests you?” She raised her eyebrow.

“No, a lot of things do. I want to do everything. Right now, for example, I feel like becoming a renowned chef,” you pick up a random bowl and start stirring it slowly.

“Try learning how to handle a knife right first,” she tuts.

“Practice makes perfect Mary,” you smile and look down into the chocolate substance you were messing with. “Cake or brownies?”

“Neither actually. It's more doughy than liquid honey,” she lectures you kindly.

“Right,” you say sheepishly, “I swear I’m smarter when it comes to other things. You should see me in civics class.”

“I believe you,” she winks, “Now get to preheating the oven, Betty Crocker.”

…

Angus goes off to play a game on the Pinball machine and to take his mind off you. It certainly helps him. Avoiding the prospect of getting beat up by locals and injuring another part of his body allows him to momentarily forget the stress he feels when he remembers how pissed you are at him.

Mr. Hunham and Angus eat their burgers quickly. To repay Mr. Hunham for saving his ass, Angus keeps his mouth shut every time he orders a Jim Beam. They leave after Hunham drops a rather generous tip for Miss Crane.

They're walking towards Hunhams car and Angus can’t resist the urge to ask, “Why’d you buy those guys beer? They’re assholes.”

“That’s one way to look at it. Hey. Catch,” he tosses his keys at Angus, who catches them on instinct.

“How many boys do you know who have had their hands blown off? Barton boys don’t go to Vietnam. No, they go to Yale or Dartmouth or Cornell, whether they deserve to or not."

“Except for Curtis Lamb.”

“Except for Curtis Lamb.”

“Were you ever in the military?” Angus’s curiosity peaked.

“I tried to enlist in ‘41, but was rejected,” Mr. Hunham pointed at his eye, as if to say obviously. He tries to unlock the door of the driver's side to no avail. He points towards Angus,“I have to get in through there. Anyways, they made me an air raid warden. Gave me a whistle and everything. Helmet. Arm band.”

Angus opens the door, handing the keys off as Mr. Hunham slides in. He catches a whiff of Mr. Hunham unmentioned scent.

“Before we get going, can I be candid with you?”

“Mm-hmm,”

“You smell,” he states bluntly and Mr. Hunham deflates. Angus joins him inside the Nova, “Like fish. And it’s really noticeable toward the end of the day. I even smell it on your coat. Mind if I crack the window?”

“Trimethylaminuria.”

“Huh?” Angus frowns.

“Trimethylaminuria. Means my body can’t break down trimethylamine. That’s the smell. And, uh, yes, more toward the end of the day.

“Wow. Your whole life? No wonder you’re afraid of women,” he concludes.

“I am not afraid of women,” Hunham says, clearly offended. “Jesus H. Christ.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. Dr. Gertler says I don’t always give consideration to my audience,” Angus exhales.

“Who’s Dr. Gertler?’’

“My shrink,” Angus wants to disappear.

“Has Dr. Gertler ever tried a swift kick in the ass?”

Angus figures he ought to level the playing field. “Okay, all right, now your turn. Go ahead, tell me something about me. Something negative.”

“Something negative about you?”

“Sure. Just one thing.

“Just one?”

Angus nods and he probably should be offended that he is taking an awful long time to say anything.

“You’re obtuse about your social relationship.”

“What the hell is that supposed mean?”

“You didn’t say I had to elaborate Mr. Tully.”

“Okay well now I want you to. Spit it out.”

“No,” he backs out of his parking spot and hits the road.

“Come on! Explain,” Angus tugs on Hunhams jacket.

“I hope you don’t plan to pester me all the way to Barton. It'll be an awfully long ride.”

He presses down harder on the gas pedal.

…

You had burned the cookies. Not that you could tell when you took a bite of it. The cocoa had disguised it and you had just finished patting your back when you had to spit the whole thing out into the sink. Mary relishes your misery and apologizes through her laughs, wiping the tears in the corner of her eyes.

So your two-course meal had been reduced to just an entree. After thirty minutes of searching and waiting on Angus and Mr. Hunham, you ladies decided to leave the capacious mess hall and have a TV dinner. If your mother could see you now you were sure she would have you arrested by the etiquette police.

Mary was flipping through the channels to tune in to her daily rewatch of the Newlywed Game. You stopped her suddenly, your hand on top of hers to stop her from operating the remote.

“Cactus Flower! I love this movie. Please can we watch it?” You beg, clasping and shaking your hands together.

“What’s it about?” She asks hesitantly, clearly wary about abandoning her favorite program.

“You’ll love it! Ingrid Berman has to pretend to be her boss's wife because he lied to his lover about being married and having kids and shit-,”

“Language.”

“-Sorry. And so now he has to pull off this big con, so she won’t leave his lying as-, butt,” you correct yourself. “Goldie Hawn is sooo good in this. She won an Oscar I think.”

“I supposed I could give it a try. If it bores me we are switching right back though.”

“Deal,” you giggle and scoot the plate balancing on your lap closer so you can dig in.

For the next hour, Mary seems content in watching the characters in the movie ignore and miscommunicate their feelings. Even shaking her head when they do something she finds ridiculous. Your eyes get heavy as the ending nears, your stomach warm and content with the meal you had and the glare of the television tiring your vision. You lean your head back into the couch cushion and close your eyelids. Distantly you hear Ingrid Berman and Walter Matthau confess their love before your world goes dark.

Slumped against Mary, you wake up for the second time that week by the same hands. Angus is shaking your shoulder gently. Your gaze falls immediately to the sling his arm is in.

“Angus! What the hell?” You whisper- shout, fixing your posture and wiping the potential drool off your face. You check to make sure you didn’t wake up Mary.

“It's okay, it's okay,” he reassures. “It’s not broken, or anything just dislocated.”

“What happened?’’ Your arm trails down from where the sling starts to where his hand hangs lazily out. "Is this why you weren’t at dinner tonight? Hunham too?”

“Uh yeah. I jumped off a springboard in the new gym,” he answers bashfully.

“Wow… you are so stupid sometimes.”

“I prefer spontaneous thank you,” he sits down next to you on the couch and lets out a sigh. Using his good arm, he lifts a plastic bag. “We went out to eat and I got you something.”

“Ooh,” You snatch the bag and open it as quietly as you can without crinkling the plastic. Inside the Styrofoam box there's a half-eaten burger with some cold fries. You snack on it anyway offering some to Angus who shakes his head.

“Mr. Hunham thought buying another would be wasteful. He assumed you and Mary would have probably eaten by then so I saved what I could.”

“We did and,” you motion to the plates, “I helped cook it!”

“Really?” Angus's eyes widened, “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“I saved you some cookies,” You pick up the dish of the burnt dessert. You have brought them over believing you had been exaggerating the taste.

You hadn't.

He takes one, clueless, and bites almost half the cookie off. You see him wince but still he continues to chew. He chokes it down and nods, “Not bad?”

“You’re such a liar,” you shove his head lightly. “I forgot to turn on the timer.”

“Yeah I can tell,” he takes your confession as his cue to spit the rest out into a nearby napkin.

“Thanks for this though,” you take a bite of the burger, “I had forgotten what fast food tasted like.”

“Don’t tell him I let you have it. Or that you saw me in fact. The whole arm thing is supposed to be secret.”

“Got it,” you extended your pinky for him to intertwine. He takes it but doesn’t remove his pinky after, instead he lets your connected hands fall between the both of you.

The TV is still on, except the volume is lower and an old black-and-white movie is on. You finish the burger and put the trash aside to throw away in the morning.

“Where is Mr. Hunham now?”

“Crashed as soon as his head hit the pillow.”

“So you want to talk now?” You look up at him.

“Umm, somewhere private though. Incase Mary wakes up,” he gets up, still connected to you by your fingers and pulls you alongside him. You pick up a discarded blanket along with you

“Okay. Where do you want to go?”

He walks you two out of the staff common room and you let him take the lead. Barton is cold even without all the large windows closed. It’s like walking through a haunted mansion, passing by old dusty trophy cases and pictures of past alumni. When you enter what you recognize to be the auditorium, thanks to the plaque next to the door, Angus strolls you two over to the stage. You sit on the piano bench and when he joins you, you cover him with your blanket.

You hear Angus let out a shaky breath and then see the winter air turn it into a small cloud of smoke.

Angus starts to speak, a tremble in his voice, “You’re the only person who thinks of me first know? Even when we were little, and we had a free pass to be totally self-centered you still never-. Like in middle school when you’d give me biology answers, or just now with the blanket! I have a jacket! I should be giving you the entire blanket. In fact, let me give you -, your just-.”

“It’s alright Angus,” you stop his rapid rambling, holding his face between your hands. “I already forgave you a long time ago.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” he chuckles, trying to divert his gaze but the soft hold you have on him keeps him still.

“I forgave you the second you walked in looking like a kicked puppy.”

He laughs at your words.

“Although I just want to ask what has been going on with you? I know you hate school and you're not incredibly fond of Stanely marrying your mom, but I feel like something has been bothering you. Something big.”

“I need to go to Boston Y/n,” he admits, hitting some random piano keys. The notes echo around the room.

“Okay,” you bite the inside of your cheek, “why?”

“It's snowing outside but it doesn’t feel like Christmas. But my dad, he would make it feel that way. So I need to see him and my mom had promised but you see how that turned out.”

“Oh Angus. This is why you kept bringing it up,” you gasp. “Jesus. And I had called you stupid, I’m the dense one for not connecting the dots.”

“No no. You’re not. I was being evasive. I guess I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I would have stolen Jason Smith's car keys had I known! We could be there by now, eating Clam Chowder by the bay. ”

“Nuh-uh. You’re way too of a goody-two shoe for that.”

“Well I would have followed you. Given an hour's notice, of course, to build my confidence.”

“I don't know,” Angus hits a few more keys, “Maybe this was fate like you said. It definitely didn’t deal me a cruel hand having me holdover here with you.”

“Yeah, the universe was certainly on our side for this one,” you move closer to him and put your head on his shoulder. “Hey, you think you can still play even with only one working hand?”

“I’m willing to try it,” he stretches his fingers, “What shall I serenade you with?”

“Something Beach Boys. In My Room?”

“You got it L/n.”

He plays much slower and his jaw is sharp, fully determined to get through the song for your enjoyment. He plays so gracefully you don’t even notice when he slips on occasion. You don’t mind it. It’s almost as sweet as a lullaby.

[minas-linkverse]

Other than the menus what are your thoughts on echoes, ive been enjoying it quite a bit!

I'll write this to be really non-spoilery cause it feels fair and I'm not that far in the game myself! (If we compared it to ALBW in progression, I'd be almost done with the second dungeon)

However I've been having a great time! 🙌 After BOTW/TOTK I've felt sort of fearful of this franchise's future. I've been worried that the series would go to a direction I wouldn't like to follow. Of course I was willing to accept that, I'm not going to rain on other people's fun just because it's not the same as when I was a kid-- BUT It is comforting to see Nintendo isn't forgetting us puzzle fans.

BUT ALSO the game IS really refreshing on top of that. I don't feel like it's just a lazy attempt to cash into the market botw/totk haven't been able to, but an innovative fun experience. It feels like a real return to form for the franchise, as it has always been like that-- Trying new things and keeping us on our toes, while having that something at its core that truly makes it the Zelda series.

If you're a fan like me who's on the fence about whether to get this game or not, I'd say it's worth it. I recommend going in with an open mind for being pleasantly surprised but not expecting it to blow your mind like [Insert game here] may have. I'm singing it's praises in this ask sure, but it's still only been a pleasant experience-- Not mindblowing.

Buuut that's what I think so far! Might change as I continue, and I'll be sure to share here what I thought of it when I'm done. :]

[librivore42]

A cultural exchange

This gif is mildly false advertising because there's no kissing in the fic but it definitely carries the 'Minthara yanks Gale in, much to his pleased surprise' energy. A secret withers gift for @quescon! Ao3 link below, and full text under the cut if you want to stay on tumblr (but comments and kudos would be welcome!)

A cultural exchange (1051 words) by Librivore42 Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Minthara Baenre/Gale Characters: Gale (Baldur's Gate), Minthara Baenre Additional Tags: Rated teen for the fact that they're definitely undressing eachother but that's about it, I'm bad at ratings okay Summary: Minthara is attracted to Gale, and Gale is clearly both interested and absolutely not going to make the first move, so why beat about the bush? She takes matters into her own hands.

~~~~~~

Minthara was indeed beautiful. Forceful. Powerful. Direct. So maybe Gale should have been slightly less surprised when, not half an hour after they’d set up their tents and he’d wandered toward the tree-line to look at some fascinating mushrooms, he’d been powerfully and directly pressed up against a tree.

“Minthara?”

“Wizard,” she said calmly, as if pinning wizards to trees and busying herself with the laces of their shirts was a common everyday occurrence.

Surely it wasn’t.

“May I-” he said, desperately trying to keep his voice level as a hand briefly dipped under the fabric, “ask what by Elminster’s beard you’re doing, exactly?”

“I did not think you would need it explained to you.” Red eyes much too close, much too pleasantly heated. “Or did your goddess not concern herself with the mortal necessity of undressing a bedmate?”

“Mystra would- I. That isn’t-” Feeling too flustered by the suddenness of it all to come up with a proper retort, he batted her hands away.

“Now really, I must protest!”

“Must you?” she said dryly, resuming her unlacing. “To what do you object, wizard?”

There were numerous and equally valid variables in this situation to object to. The suddenness of it, the lack of asking whether he was actually interested, as if his willingness to participate was not a consideration- not that he was wholly unwilling mind you, nevertheless it was the principle of the thing- but as his mind spun for some excuse to get her hands off of him so he could have a single coherent thought, all he could come up with was “The location.”

She raised her eyebrows, fingers stilling as he willed some blood back to his brain.

Good. She was distracted. Now he could push her very warm and very appealingly muscled arms away and walk back to camp and they could all pretend this had never happ-

“We. Ah. Are much too close to the campsite and our companions. A tent might afford us more privacy in this particular situation.”

Gods damn it. He went on, mouth working incessantly to fill up the silence she was staring at him with.

“Visual privacy at the very least, though if we were further in the forest we would have less chance of being overheard. It would be rather less comfortable but perhaps-”

“Are you never silent?” she said in milder annoyance than he was used to. And then, much to his surprise, “Very well. Privacy you shall have.”

Quick and efficient, he was grabbed by the mostly open shirt front and dragged into her tent, still a little dazed to have been given this consideration.

Once the tent flap closed them in together, she looked him up and down with vaguely proprietary air. Had Mystra ever looked at him like that, or had he always read it as affection? Minthara’s gaze was certainly different, but similar enough that it made him bristle.

“A second objection, if your sole interest is a warm body to satisfy your needs then I am certain there are many others to provide.”

A flicker of surprise, and then, bafflingly, increased interest as she stepped forward into his space and resumed undressing up.

“You are a strange one,” she said, her voice almost… amused? “If my sole interest was a warm body I would indeed have sought out another to provide it.”

Gale let out a slightly hysterical laugh, and he did have to wonder precisely how they got from Minthara seeming to express only the deepest disdain for him to her fingers sliding under his shirt and pushing it off of his shoulders.

Perhaps in drow culture disdain was a step up from indifference? He had to admit, he was not particularly well read on the ways of the drow, though he was dimly aware that men were faced almost exclusively with those two emotions. A shame really, he had been most remiss in learning more about their companion, not asking her nearly as many questions about the Underdark and drow as he had asked Lae’zel about the Astral plane and the Githyanki.

Given that Lae’zel was always very responsive and Minthara stared at him like a slug she’d prefer to step on, that was not surprising. But he could find books. Truly there was no excuse besides neglect that he had been caught so short-handed in this- her hands were at the laces of his trousers now - very…. sudden and… intimate…. cultural exchange-

A smack on his cheek, surprisingly light, brought him back to reality and the chill air on his increasingly bare skin.

“I expect you to pay attention.”

“Yes ma’am.” He wasn’t sure if it was the smack or the authoritative tone that made the response tumble from his mouth so readily, but he was sure that despite her lack of expression, he saw the following in Minthara’s eyes:

Surprise again Delight Satisfaction An even greater increase of interest

Duly noted. He filed that away in his currently limited mental codex of drow culture. Or his understanding of Minthara, at the very least. It would be prudent to assume that she was merely a partial reflection, not a complete representation, of what was no doubt a very varied and fascinating- oh Gods. Warm and calloused hands in the right place were remarkably focusing when he was in danger of getting distracted again.

He tried very hard to formulate a coherent thought again.

“Perhaps you should-” he gestured towards her. “Allow for a levelling of the playing field, as it were?”

“An impertinent question,” she scoffed, but took his hand and directed it to the buckles of her armour, giving him a little room to get his mind in order. He glanced at her quickly as he worked, noting the amusement buried deep in her eyes. She seemed to enjoy a little pushback, alternating with plenty of deference, though he had yet to learn if that was a drow preference, a Minthara preference, or simply what she preferred out of him.

“We shall have to do something about that failing of yours. Kneel.”

Ah well, who was he to miss an opportunity for greater cultural knowledge? He grinned a little, all too rapidly falling into the rhythm of this little encounter like a newly learned lanceboard strategy.

“Yes ma’am.”