#I LOVE ROCK HOWARD SO MUCH

[manzisme]

rock paper scissors.

paper beats rock.

[tampire]

City of the Wolves

[realboutfatalfury]

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY GAROU: MARK OF THE WOLVES

[janeyseymour]

hiii!! i love your writing and i hope you’re doing well <3 i was hoping to request a melissa x reader with “causal” work crush between the two of them. reader is a very put together teacher during school hours but a trendy aesthetic person off campus. mel comes across reader at the grocery store and is astonished at the revealing alternative style and sexy tattoos. reader gets super nervous and shy once mel teasingly approaches. no one at work has ever seen her like this but especially not her crush melissa

oh wow, this one... nice. written as i procrastinate cleaning my house!

Personal and Professional

wc: ~2.4k

You grew up hearing from both of your parents that you should never mix the personal with the professional. So you compartmentalize. You’ve always done it. You kept school life away from home life when you could, and now you keep your work life away from your home life. That’s not to say that you aren’t friends with your coworkers at school. It’s just that it’s much easier to keep professional Y/N and personal Y/N separate.

And the personal and professional you are two entirely different people.

You see, at school, you’re ‘Miss Y/N��. You keep it all together. You’re buttoned up, you’re conservative in your clothing style, and you strive to maintain that aura of professionalism that you see coming off of people like Barbara Howard. You’re pretty damn good at it too. You’re kind, you allow your coworkers to see small bits of your home life (“Oh, I’ll probably just do some grocery shopping before laying on my couch for the entirety of the weekend… maybe I’ll go to the gym,” is your usual response when they ask what you’re doing over the weekend), and the teachers have all come to respect you once you settled into your position.

But once the school hours are over and you can let your hair down, both figuratively and metaphorically, you trade out your blouse and sweater or blazer for more form-fitting and revealing shirts, pants that aren’t slacks, and you change your flats to your doc martens that you’ve been rocking since the eleventh grade. You take out the clear stud and put in your nose ring, and exchange earrings different from the delicate hoops you wear to school. Your multiple tattoos show in your street clothes, and you love it. 

You’re not entirely sure how your coworkers would feel if they knew that this was how you presented yourself outside of the school, but it doesn’t matter. They’re so used to seeing you all done up to teach that even if they did see you outside of school, they probably wouldn’t recognize you. You sure as hell wouldn’t go out of your way to say hello if you saw one of them outside of campus.

But then things start to change about six months into working at Abbott.

Shit. You have a thing for one of your coworkers- Melissa Schemmenti to be exact. It’s a very casual and silly thing the two of you have going on, really. She flirts with you, you flirt with her; it’s all in good fun. You know that you’ll never act on it though because you keep your many lives as far away from each other as possible, even going as far as grocery shopping a few streets over from where you know most of your coworkers go in order to not run into them. You’ve never had an issue with running into anyone outside of the school anyway- why would that change?

“What are your plans for the weekend, hot stuff?” Melissa flirts with you while you’re eating lunch. “And don’t give me your usual answer… you gotta have more of a life than what you lead on, miss mysterious.”

You roll your eyes. “You wish I was with you.”

She hums in lieu of an answer before asking you again, “What are your plans for the weekend?”

“Honestly?” you chuckle. “Probably some grocery shopping, I have a friend coming over tomorrow, and then Sunday is a day to grade and veg out on the couch while I catch up on some shitty reality tv.”

“Sounds riveting,” the redhead jokes.

“Well, what do you have going on?”

“Nothin’,” she grins. “I fully plan on staying in my Eagles sweatshirt and catching up on laundry and some chores- probably have some wine while I’m at it. Care to join me on Sunday after I go to church?” She’s never asked you if you wanted to hang out outside of work before, and it throws you for a loop. You nearly choke on your salad.

“Oi,” she huffs playfully. “I was just messin’. I don’t want to have to endure any of that shit reality tv in my house.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “I wouldn’t want you to have to sit through that either.” The two of you finish up your lunches and head back to your classrooms to deal with your monsters for the rest of the Friday.

“See you Monday, babe,” Melissa winks at you as she closes the door to her classroom and locks it.

“Oh, counting down already, I see,” you roll your eyes. “See you Monday, babe.”

When you get home, you change out of your stuff work attire and into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. You change out your jewelry for the things you prefer. You fully plan on laying on your couch with a bottle of wine on this lazy Friday night, but when you get home you realize that you finished off your favorite white last weekend. With a sigh, you go into your bedroom to change into some nicer street clothes- you would rather be caught dead than wear sweatpants and a sweatshirt out in public. At the front door, you pull on your docs, and then you’re off to the grocery store.

If you’re there now, you decide it’s best to just get your grocery shopping for the week out of the way. You grab a cart and start perusing the aisles like you usually do.

You have a few things in your cart when you find yourself in the aisle with the wines and beers, and you’re currently pouring over the selections. What would your friend want? Probably just some Yuengling. So you throw a case of that into your cart before turning to look for the wine that you love. Little do you know, Melissa is turning her cart down the aisle that you’re currently in, and she recognizes you almost immediately.

You look so starkly different than she’s used to seeing you. If she’s being honest, she’s a little thrown off with your outfit. She’s so used to seeing you in your work attire, your hair either in a neat, low bun or down. But here? This look is entirely different from what she was expecting you to be done up in outside of work. She of course knew that you wouldn’t always be dressed like a teacher, but wow. She was not expecting this. You’re in a pair of tighter, ripped black jeans, you have a tank top on, and your hair is thrown up into a stylish messy bun with a few pieces strategically pulled out to give off the appearance that it’s an effortless look (it is for you). Is that a tattoo on your shoulder that she sees? And a tattoo on your arm? How has she never noticed that before? You have a cartilage piercing, bold earrings for your first and second, and… is that a nose ring? She didn’t even know you had your nose pierced. If Melissa’s honest with herself, it only makes you that much more attractive.

You turn, satisfied with your decision, and pop the bottle into the top of your shopping cart. You make eye contact with the redhead that is practically drooling over the sight of you. You give her a shy wave, but you don’t dare to interact. Don’t mix the personal from the professional. The woman snaps out of her own trance and waves back with a curious look.

You continue down the aisles, and you think that you’re in the clear from Melissa- you acknowledged her, that’s all you had to do. She goes on her way too, but the two of you run into each other again during checkout.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” she winks at you as she starts putting her groceries up on the conveyor belt. “Never pegged you as a beer girl.”

“Hey,” you say softly, shyly. “It- it’s actually for my friend.” That also throws Melissa for a loop. At school, you’re so confident, quick to make a remark. But now, you sound like you have something caught in your throat, and you nervously tuck one of the loose strands of hair behind your ear, as if that would make you more professional looking. “I’ve never seen you around here before?”

“I usually go to the one that everyone else goes to, but they were out of my wine, so…” she gestures to it before putting it up on the belt. “It was worth the extra ten minute drive though if it means I get to see you.” She winks at you with those emerald green eyes of her, but you don’t reciprocate. You nervously worry your lip between your teeth, as if you have no idea what to say.

Melissa understands your hesitation and shrugs. The two of you stand in line together awkwardly. She’s rung up, and as she leaves, you call a gentle, “Have a good weekend, see you Monday.”

She turns and blows a kiss your way, waving flirtatiously before leaving.

Your weekend is nice. Your friend comes over, you go out to the clubs, and you almost forget about the encounter that you had with the hot redheaded second grade teacher.

The small break from work is over all too soon, and you find yourself somewhat dragging yourself into Abbott on Monday, but duty calls. You’re back to wearing your lightly colored blouse and a sweater over top to cover the tattoo that you didn’t feel like putting makeup over today, you’re back in your dress pants and flats. You didn’t even bother to do your hair, just simply brushing it and letting it cascade over your shoulders instead.

You enter the staff lounge and it’s empty, as it always is. You’re always the first one in. Whoever comes next is always a mystery, but today, it’s Melissa Schemmenti. Of course it is. Without anyone else there to buffer, you know she is absolutely going to bring up your meeting on Friday night.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” the redhead says suavely. “Have a nice weekend?”

“Yeah, babe,” you shoot out. The coffee pot dings. “You want some?”

“You know I always do,” she sighs out as she makes a move for the cabinet with the mugs inside. She grabs hers before sauntering over to you. The second grade teacher hands you the mug before cozying up to you.

“For you,” you roll your eyes as your pour the scalding hot liquid into her cup.

“Thanks, babe,” she smirks and winks. “So… when were you goin’ to tell me about this little number?” she rests a gentle hand on your shoulder- the one with the tattoo.

“What do you mean?” you chuckle.

“That tattoo,” she licks her lips.

“I forget it’s there,” you roll your eyes. “Young Y/N mistakes.” Not true at all. You love that tattoo, and most of your street clothes show it off. 

“It’s sexy,” she tells you lowly. “Kinda like the ear spike and the nose ring I had no idea you had.”

“I’m a different woman outside of school, babes,” you tell her, smirk evident as you start to fix your own coffee. “Didn’t realize I had to tell you about it all.”

“You don’t,” she shrugs. “I’ll find it all out myself… little miss alt girl.”

“In your dreams,” you fire out, and you get pretty close to her.

“Oh, every night,” she challenges you and moves even closer. At this point, the two of you are nose to nose.

And wow, it wouldn’t take much more for you to-

“Good morning!” Janine bursts in through the door, not knowing what she’s walking into.

You and Melissa couldn’t jump away from each other faster. The young, energetic teacher starts to ramble on all about her weekend, and your other colleagues start to make their way in. When it comes time to watch the news, Melissa settles herself in next you. Her hand finds its way to your shoulder, and she starts to trace the outline of you tattoo. Then, you feel the redhead’s hand make its way to your arm, where the other tattoo is that she saw. You didn’t know she saw that one too. She lets her fingers lazily trace around that one as well. All of your coworkers are too enamored with what’s happening on the screen to really notice, and Melissa’s green eyes are trained on the television as well. You could not be further from what’s happening on the screen. All you can think of is Melissa, and the things that she’s doing right now are driving you crazy.

Soon though, the kids will start to trickle in, and you know you have to get to your classroom. So you head out, a flirtatious smile and wink thrown the second grade teacher’s way before you close yourself into your room. You take a deep breath, and get ready for your day.

As you’re about to make your way out of your classroom, you hear heeled boots clinking along the linoleum floor, and you know those boots belong to the redhead that’s been on your mind all day.

“Hey, babe,” you says, back turned to the door, but you know it’s her. “Come to walk me out?”

The clicking gets louder, and before you can even think, Melissa has you pinned up against your desk. You can feel the corner of it digging into your back, and then you don’t because all you can feel are her lips on yours. Instinctively, you kiss her back. It’s better than you had been dreaming of. And then she pulls back, wipes away the lipstick she left smudged, wipes her own mouth to fix her own lip, and then winks at you.

“I’m done pretending that all this flirting we do is harmless,” she says once she’s righted herself. “You, me, dinner tonight at The Capital Grille. 6, sharp.”

You don’t know what else to do other than nod.

“And don’t come dressed in your teacher outfit,” she instructs. “I want the babe that you are… Ear spike, nose ring, tattoos out.”

With that, she turns on her heel and makes her way out of your room. As she’s making her way down the hall, you hear her call over her shoulder, “Don’t miss me too much!”

So much for not mixing the personal with the professional.

Next

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Hedy Lamarr (Samson and Delilah, Ziegfeld Girl)—Look. I'm sure someone has already submitted Hedy Lamarr because she was spectacularly beautiful, and a very strong lady too: she fled both an abusive marriage AND nazi persecution at a very young age and rebuilt a life for herself pursuing her love for acting all on her own!! Her career as an actress was stellar; while she began acting outside of Hollywood (her very first movie, Ecstasy, won a prize at the Venice Film Festival), she conquered American hearts very quickly with her first movie in the US, Algiers, and then just kept getting better and better. If all this isn't enough, she was also an inventor: her invention of the frequency-hopping spread spectrum radio transmission technique forms the base of bluetooth and has a lot of applications in all kinds of communication technologies. I think that deserves a prize, don't you?

Gina Lollobrigida (Solomon and Sheba, The Hunchback of Notre Dame)— One of the highest profile movie stars in Europe across the 50s and 60s. International sex symbol. Starring in European and American movies. She appeared in movies alongside Hollywood stars such as Humphrey Bogart and Rock Hudson. Was in 54 movies by 1970. A MOVIE STAR in every essence. Has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Won three David di Donatello, a Golden Globe two Nastro d'Argento, and six Bambi awards. And nominated for more.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Hedy Lamarr:

The only person you can find both on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and in the Inventor's Hall of Fame--her radio-frequency-hopping technology forms the basis for cordless phones, wi-fi, and a dozen other aspects of modern life. She was also passionate in her efforts to aid the Allies in WWII (unsurprising for a Jewish-Austrian Emigree to America), and her name served as the backbone for one of the best running jokes in what is possibly Mel Brooks' best movie. Look, Louis B. Mayer apparently believed he could plausibly promote her as "The world's most beautiful woman". Is an entire website full of people going to be less audacious than one Louis B. Mayer? I didn't think so!

Described as "Hedy has the most incredible personal sophistication. She knows the peculiarly European art of being womanly; she knows what men want in a beautiful woman, what attracts them, and she forces herself to be these things. She has magnetism with warmth, something that neither Dietrich nor Garbo has managed to achieve" by Howard Sharpe, she managed to escape her controlling husband (and Nazi Germany) by a) Disguising as her maid and fleeing to Paris or b) Convincing the husband to let her wear all of her jewelry to a dinner, only to disappear afterwards. Also she was particularly clever and helped develop Frequency-Hopping Spread Spectrum (I can't really explain it but anyway...)

Her depiction of Delilah and Samson and Delilah just lives rent free in my head. The woman was gorgeous.

One of the most beautiful women ever in film, spoken by many critics and fans. Beautiful shapely figure, deeper seductive voice, and often played femme fatale roles. She was also brilliant and an inventor. Mainly self-taught, she invested her spare time, including on set between takes, in designing and drafting inventions, which included an improved traffic stoplight and a tablet that would dissolve in water to create a flavored carbonated drink, and much more.

Gorgeous and brilliant pioneer of modern technology and the middle part.

Gina Lollobrigida:

She was an international sex symbol once dubbed as The Most Beautiful Woman In The World. She acted in films in both Italy and France before starring in Beat The Devil with Humphrey Bogart. When portraying soprano Lina Cavalieri, she sang all of the songs in her own voice. This role won her the very first David di Donatello Award for Best Actress, Italy's academy awards.

She was one of the highest-profile European actresses of the 1950s and 1960s, a period in which she was an international sex symbol. Humphrey Bogart once said of her: "She makes Marilyn Monroe look like Shirley Temple."

Literally starred in a movie called "The Most Beautiful Woman in the World". I rest my case.

[rebelliousstories]

Fallout

Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard

Peachy

Lucy gets a front row seat to the strange happenings in the Wasteland.

Pretty as a Peach

There’s something odd about this girl that had started traveling with the duo. But it does give Lucy a peak behind the curtain on the Wasteland’s most notorious partners in crime.

Not On My Watch

(Request) There is something that can flip a switch in even the most trusting of men; jealousy. Now what switch that is all depends on the man.

Faces of Old, Faces of New

Holing up in some abandoned movie theater, Cooper is shocked to find one of his old films still in the projector.

My Father’s Daughter

(Request) When his buddy calls, Cooper has no clue the whirlwind he is in for.

Vaultie

(Request) If Cooper Howard had a nickel for every time he came across an escaped vault dweller looking to find her father and to change the world…

Not Like The Movies

(Request)How Cooper got landed with someone of her sunny disposition, he will never now. And it does not help that she knows his films.

Toxic as Rads

(Request)They had not been alright for a long time. They would breakup, and then make up. A vicious cycle with no foreseeable end.

Bounty

(Request)When a bounty comes in, Cooper is intent on cashing in. The caps they were offering were worth it. How in the hell does she stay ahead of him?

Ex Lover’s Lover

Cooper Howard gets introduced to a new up and coming actress after his divorce is finalized. What happens when Barb finds out that Janey has been spending time with the two of them?

My Baby Shot Me Down

After a stint on set, Cooper has to call into question whether or not being a relationship is beneficial for her.

Rock A Bye Baby

(Request) Two hundred years seems like a long time, but there is somethings that never change; no matter how much time had passed.

Old Wounds

She was supposed to be dead. He held her while she died in his arms. How is she here?

Out and About

(Request)When a kid suddenly pops up in the Wasteland, you treat that child like a bear cub; don’t even look at it until you’ve confirmed it’s alone.

Safe and Sound

(Request)This child was still so small, defenseless, and vulnerable. Although Cooper keeps trying to help her out on basic skills to survive the Wastelands.

Over and Under

A ghoul, a child, a vault-dweller, and a dog meet up, by chance, in the Wasteland…

Wear My Ring Around Your Neck

(Request)Wedding rings can be common and look like any other ring. Some are really extravagant and can be easily spotted out in a crowd. The same could be said for people; even years and years later.

Ain’t That A Pretty Sight

This is the story of how Cooper fell in love with his wife again, Janey gets excited, and Barb makes this about her.

Series:

Kiss Me You Animal

The Ghoul and The Freak meet by chance, and what follows is a whirlwind of a time together.

Vacation (Ficmas 2024)

How do you take your white Christmas; snow or sand?

Kiss (ValenFics 2025)

A ghoul and a normie walk into a bar…

Norm MacLean

Speak Now

(Request)On what is supposed to be the happiest day of her life, she can not help but feel Norm is hiding something.

What We Have Seen

(Request)When the plan to repopulate Vault 32 is set into motion, two people have to find a way to work around the set backs.

What Did You Say?

(Request)The whole reason they got married was with the goal of repopulation. That is why anyone in the Vaults gets married. Being married to Norm is a challenge all on its own.

Take My Breath Away

(Request) Finding out they were expecting was one thing. Actually being there through the pregnancy is another.

Maximus

First

(Request)When you finally get over one hurdle, there is another waiting for you.

Awkward Glances

(Request) He was an aspirant. She was a medic. Could I make it anymore obvious?

[delirious-donna]

Ghosts of the Past [Extra Drabble]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

an: I decided that it would be cute to write a section from the POV of the couple that Kento and reader meet in the museum. I’ve grown very fond of this couple and I hope you’ll enjoy this extra little piece of the story.

warning: none, SFW, fluff and humour

Series Masterlist

The museum was full of its usual hustle and bustle, even more so given the holidays, and it was a pleasure to be a part of the hubbub.

Felicity scanned the crowds with a keen eye, smiling at the energetic children—some more rambunctious than others—accompanied by parents trying to corral them into some semblance of order. She well remembered when her own brood were this age, and the hours spent in this much-loved building keeping them amused during school holidays.

A hand slipped into hers, more familiar than any other and Felicity squeezed the fingers of her beloved husband, glancing at him with a love that had never diminished even after all these years together. She counted her blessings for having met her soulmate so young, and for the family they had raised, as well as the fun and laughter they continued to share.

The pair perused the museum that they knew like the back of their hand, winding through the galleries and stopping to spot new artefacts and displays. This was still one of their favourite pastimes, there was always a discovery to make and even on days when it felt like they had seen everything the museum had to offer, there was always people watching to fall back on.

Much to Howard’s feigned disapproval, Felicity adored watching people. Since their children had grown up and flown the nest to build their own families it had become a ritual of sorts to indulge her social curiosities in public places such as these. There was something special about witnessing the complexities of real human relationships that scratched the itch far more than any TV drama or soap opera ever could. Friendships blooming over shared interests, young minds being educated through fun interactive education, families finding their feet with the addition of children in tow, tired parents happy to see their kids entertained to give them a moment of peace, and best of all, romance blossoming in the most unlikely places and ways.

Today was no different, with new delights to be found in every room, but it wasn’t until they neared the new photography exhibition did Felicity feel the buzz of excitement that often signalled a special find.

“You’re like a bloodhound, Flic,” Howard chuckled with a playful roll of his eyes. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and secured his wife’s arm through his own.

“Pfft, nonsense. I’m simply drawn to where the universe wants me to be.” She didn’t believe the sentiment, but she’d be damned to admit he was right after all these decades together.

The pair admired a large mural of a cheetah made up of hundreds of thousands of tiny black-and-white images until her attention was drawn to the room by their left. There were only two occupants, a young man slowly edging around the room and an equally young woman resting on the leather seat in the middle.

Felicity watched whilst the young woman never took her eyes off the man perusing the photos on the wall. Her gaze was intent but there was a softness that infused her features with what appeared to be fondness. Perhaps even attraction? The young man, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to being the focus of the woman. His posture was stiff, hands clasped behind his back with a slight rock on the balls of his feet when something interested him.

If this wasn’t a budding romance, she’d eat her hat. Felicity tugged gently at the cuff of Howard’s shirt sleeve, nodding her head in the direction of the young couple and was met with a sigh of resignation.

“Leave them be,” he hissed, though there was no heat to his tone. Despite the words, he too began to watch as the young woman moved towards the man and started to speak. They were too far away to hear the conversation, but it was obvious after a moment that it wasn’t going well.

The couple watched on whilst the woman’s expression turned to shock then irritation. Whatever the man was saying, it wasn’t going over well, and when she strode off to the other side of the room, Howard could only feel sympathy for the young man. He looked genuinely perplexed, a hand scratching at the back of his neck as if the skin prickled from the exchange.

Felicity leaned into her husband to speak close to his ear. “Doesn’t that remind you of anyone?” She chuckled, turning twinkling eyes up at him and he felt a swell of love wash through him. It did remind him of someone, himself, and the young woman would be Felicity, his Flic.

“He looks as baffled as I felt back then. You always seemed to be mad at me for something I didn’t even realise was wrong,” Howard admitted with a shake of his head.

“I was, though it hardly matters now. The only thing that truly matters is how he deals with it… will he turn on his heel or will he try to resolve the issue?”

It was obvious that the wheels inside the young man’s head were turning at an astonishing rate, but he wasn’t moving, and Felicity’s shoulders slumped sadly.

“Give him a moment,” Howard chastised, pointing towards the man’s hand. “Don’t you see how he wishes to reach for her?”

He was right. The man’s hand was stretching, reaching as if what he wanted was just out of reach. It dropped as quickly as it happened, but only because he took the tentative steps to move alongside his object of affection.

“I always reached out for you, just as he did for her. Maybe they’ll make it,” he whispered co-conspiratorially.

“He’s confused, darling. I don’t think he quite knows what he wants, only that he doesn’t have it yet. Come on,” she said, moving them towards the young couple.

The woman was near yelling, yet the man simply looked on in confusion. So badly she wished to grab them both by the ear and turn them to face one another. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife and it was like stepping into a memory of her past, familiar and amusing. Back then, it had been far from funny but with the advantage of hindsight and a lot more life experience, she could view it for what it was.

“Oh, Howard, look there. Doesn’t that bring back memories?” Felicity called loudly, pleased when the pair jumped in surprise at being interrupted. They jerked apart like naughty children, and it only strengthened her belief that they both wanted something more than their current situation.

“They say that couples shouldn’t bicker, especially in public,” she said with a slight laugh. “But don’t listen to such rubbish. Howard and I used to snipe at each other regularly, and we’ve been married thirty-five years.”

The look of utter shock on their faces, especially the woman, was worth it. Along with the stammered explanations that it wasn’t what it seemed, that they weren’t a couple. So that was where the problem lay. Felicity wondered if it was down to one party in particular, and her gaze strayed to the young man.

A quick assessment painted a detailed picture. Young, handsome, successful, affluent given the timepiece on his wrist but maybe too invested in his work? She couldn’t blame him; society expected all youngsters these days to chase after unrealistic dreams. A career wasn’t the only thing that mattered in life, and from the expression he wore, he wasn’t as happy as he made out. A nudge in the right direction might do the trick. It would be a shame to see a bright young woman slip through his fingers simply because he was scared to try to make it work.

“My dear, when you’ve been around as long as we have, you start to trust what your gut tells you. I won’t say anything else except to offer this one piece of advice. Don’t go to bed angry, and don’t wait to go after what you truly want.”

Felicity offered a kindly smile at the young man, his jaw slack at the offered wisdom. She patted the woman’s arm once more as Howard led her away, but only after he offered his own incline of the head at the man. There was compassion in his eyes, and she knew that it felt like he was staring at his younger self at that moment. She knew that because it was the same for her, a ghost of the past come to remind them both where they started and how far they had come.

“Do you think they’ll make it?” Felicity asked once they were well out of earshot.

Howard sighed, turning his head back for a moment before replying. “If he’s anything like me then he’ll do whatever it takes to make it work.”

“You old softie…”

Taglist: @actuallysaiyan @pseudowho @desiray562 @bloombb @markleeisdabestdrug @kentoslvt @threezzyo @themossiestchick @thejujvtsupost @ratmilk14 @levin4nami @sweetpo1son @dabislilbaby @fandomsfanficsfantasize @hotvinimon @ryomance @justmanu @w-emma-fil @orikuu @sutaagaaru @venjrnjrbhrr19

[zamoimagines]

Women of Abbott Elementary - First Date (Headcanons)

A/N: Hey ya'll! I have so much fun writing for these girlies, I love them all so much. If you guys want more of them, please let me know! - Headcanons under the cut - **DISCLAIMER: None of the gifs are mine, all credit goes to the original creators**

Ava Coleman:

If there’s one thing about Ava Coleman, it’s that she loves luxury

Anyone who is with her is bound to know that and she’s more than happy to share the wealth with someone she cares about 

A first date for her is definitely at some hip new bar she found on social media with lots of fancy cocktails and champagne, maybe a few shots here and there

She insists that she pays for everything since she has a lot saved up (surely not for a potential zombie apocalypse, but she could afford to dip into her funds) 

She absolutely spoils you and tells you to get dressed up. She’s definitely in a sleek cocktail dress with a faux fur coat, or maybe a really fashionable jumpsuit. It’s whatever she’s feeling that night. Regardless, she looks hot and expensive 

The whole time you guys have drinks, she’s flirting hard with you. Unlike her other dates, she also spends some time getting to know you and asks you about where you’re from, where you see yourself in ten years, who your favorite celebrity couple is, etc. All the important first date topics 

Definitely calling you every nickname under the sun; baby, princess, cutie, baby cakes, honey, sugarboo, you name it, she’s calling you that 

Also making sure to take plenty of pictures of you, making you pose and encouraging you to be confident in how gorgeous you look

You stop her when she almost tries to make a tik tok video, but she respects you. Just means she has more pictures of you to look at later on her own time 

Absolutely making sure to touch you as much as possible, whether that means touching your hand, lightly jabbing your shoulder, maybe even playing with your hair a little bit

She definitely has a stare that could see right through you and while it’s intimidating, she also knows exactly how to make you squirm without doing anything at all 

After you guys are a little too tipsy, she’d surely take you to her favorite club. She’s dying to get you out onto a dance floor, especially when you both look so damn good together 

As soon as you guys arrive, the bouncers immediately let you through the door and you guys skip the line. She pulls you right out to the floor and encourages you to fuck it up 

The more you let loose for her, the harder she’s simping. More than likely, she’s grinding up against you, holding your hips to hers, rocking with you and making sure to keep you close

God forbid if ANYONE tries to dance with you, they’re getting kicked out of the entire club. She doesn’t give a fuck 

Straight up, she would make sure to put her arm over your shoulder just to be more possessive of you and make sure that everyone knows your her date. She respects you, she just doesn’t like it if someone doesn’t respect you

During a more slow song, she holds you super close so that you don’t get too far from her. She’s much more comfortable being vulnerable with you in a setting like this 

“I had a good time tonight. You’re so cute- Forreal, I can’t keep my hands off of you, baby” 

Right after, she’d lean in really close to your ear and ask you in a very husky voice, “You wanna come home with me, baby? I could take really good care of you.” 

Absolute best sex of your life as a nightcap, Ava is fully on board with having sex on the first date- especially if it’s with you.

Barbara Howard:

Barb is the most traditional out of all of them. After all, she’s a good Christian woman

She picks out the cutest local restaurant that’s not too snooty, but not too cheap. She also happens to be a regular there, but she doesn’t give that away immediately 

She’d meet you there, showing up a little early so she could have the table ready and waiting for you. When you arrive, she stands up and makes sure to give you a very tender kiss to your cheek and a little squeeze to your hand 

When the waiter comes by to ask for a drink order, Barbara makes sure to get a simple cocktail and urges you to do the same since the have the best ones in Philadelphia (in her own opinion)

For a while, you two start to talk. You both talk about work, then maybe move onto other first date topics like favorite movies, colors, foods, etc. Eventually, you both get on a topic in which Barbara tells you everywhere she’s traveled and you learn how much she loves cruises. 

You guys finally order, and you’re still not sure what to order because the conversation has gotten away from you. She most certainly asks for your permission, but offers to order for you to ease your mind a little. You give her your consent, and she tells the waiter exactly what to bring. Absolutely hot to you that she could take care of you in so many different ways like that. 

The more she finishes her cocktail, the more comfortable she becomes. You could tell she was slightly nervous before, but since it’s going so well, she comes into her own a little more. That signature Barbara confidence shines through with vigor and it only makes you swoon more 

She gets as bold as to hold your hand for a moment, and even takes time to gaze into your eyes while she’s speaking to you. When she laughs at your jokes, you could swear that she could be the personification of sunshine 

The food arrives, and you two eat happily to which you compliment her decision on picking this restaurant in particular. The food is delicious and she ordered you the perfect meal 

At the end, the chef surprises you both with a cute little dessert that’s sharable. It takes Barbara off guard, especially when they insist it’s on the house. You both feel like giddy teenagers in that moment, but you share it anyway 

Barbara would notice that there was a little speck of something on the corner of your mouth and would say, “Oh- Sweetheart, let me get that for you-” 

She’d take her napkin and start to wipe it away, but your heart would race at how close her hand was to your face. She’d notice how close she was too when the napkin slipped out of her hands 

There’s a moment where her hand is literally just caressing your face and neither one of you can move, completely swept up by the moment 

Once she snaps out of it, she apologizes to which you tell her not to worry. Secretly, you’re hoping she’d touch you like that again 

As you two finish up, you grab out your wallet to pay but she insists you put it away 

“I invited you out to dinner, darling. Let me take care of it.” 

You know better than to argue with Barbara, and so she pays for the whole meal. When you two leave the restaurant, she walks you right to your car to make sure you’re safe and taken care of. 

“I had a wonderful time with you, dear. Thank you for coming. I’ve been looking forward to this all week, and it was even better than I imagined it would’ve been.” 

Which is so cute to think about Barbara planning this whole thing just for you, and you make sure to thank you and assure her that you had a good time as well

There’s an awkward silence between the two of you as she takes in every inch of your presence, just silently swooning over how much she adores you

She cuts through the silence and softly asks, “May I kiss you?” 

You’d nod, but you can’t believe she just asked that question. You never thought in a million years that Barbara Howard would’ve been taking you on a date 

As you’re swimming in your thoughts, she’d lean forward and give you a firm yet sweet kiss to make sure she makes it perfect for you. 

You’d kiss back in an instant (how could you fucking not), and as soon as you accept her love, her hands move to hold your waist as she pulls you in closer, her other hand moves to caress over your cheek

She’d rest her forehead to yours and admit, “I’ve been waiting so long to do that” 

She’s certainly a lady and respects your boundaries enough to not invite you home, but you bet your sweet ass that she’s most certainly asking you on a second date. 

Janine Teagues:

Janine is a pretty classic girlie and takes you to see a movie 

At first, she’s trying to psyche herself up to see a drama or a horror movie, something that is way too serious for her tastes because she wants to impress you

She offers to pay for everything- The movie tickets, the snacks, she even tries to shove gas money in your face 

You try to insist that you can split everything, but she’s incredibly stubborn 

Once you have your drinks and your food, you guys go into the theater 

She made extra careful plans to sit in the perfect spot so you two could have enough privacy but be far enough from the screen to see everything 

The movie starts up and it’s clearly too much for her, you can tell by the way she’s getting tense and how she’s trying to hide her face every five seconds

She gets way too nervous and steps out to use the bathroom, but after she’s gone for so long, you make sure to go and check on her 

You’d use a line like, “You left your purse under your seat” or something along those lines 

To which Janine would completely crumble and let you know that she was acting all out of sorts just to make sure you’d still like her. She’s terrified of being too boring or not being “cool” enough for someone else 

You’d definitely have to reassure her very tenderly because you went on this date knowing it was Janine. Clearly you love everything about her, even her little quirks. You’d have to make sure to tell her that upfront so she could finally relax

Once everything was out in the open, she’d finally calm down. 

She’d say something like “Good- I was kinda hoping we could see Paw Patrol because my students have been going nuts over it. I heard it was a pretty wild time.” 

She’s definitely nervous about admitting that, but as soon as you’re on board, you two refund the tickets for the next showing of the other movie. This time, you make sure to get the drinks and you guys settle in.

You can clearly see she’s more excitable, laughing and being adorable as ever

She’d even hold your hand and make sure to whisper little things to you so that she didn’t get too lost in the movie 

Once it’s over, you guys would hit a little coffee shop and just talk for a while. Really gushy stuff, like laughing about how Janine picked the worst movie for a first date initially, maybe she goes on about how much she liked the actual movie she wanted to see. You guys stay for hours and talk about everything under the sun until the cafe closes.

“Well uh… Guess that’s it then.” She’d fidget a little, definitely super nervous about how to end the night. You’d let her know that you had a great time 

Which would give her enough courage to launch herself forward and kiss you right on the lips

Right after, she’d pull away and blush super hard and start apologizing and rambling like she does

But you’d cut her off and give her another kiss. In return, she’d just melt in your arms and you two could just let yourselves get caught in the wholesome gay vibes that the whole night had been leading up to <333

Then she’d most definitely ask you to come back to her place to hang out and cuddle, maybe play some board games she’s been dying to show someone. Absolutely more kissing- She wouldn’t be able to stop kissing you once she knew it was okay to do so.

Melissa Schemmenti:

Definitely plans a date at her place

Who needs a fancy restaurant when she’s the best Italian cook in all of Philly? 

She’d invite you over and everything would be super casual, she’d probably insist on it just so she could make you comfortable 

But nothing would be quite ready whenever you got there 

In fact, you’d get all dressed up in your best

And Melissa opens the door in jeans, a tank top and her denim jacket she always wears around her house, hair up in a ponytail with a small kitchen towel hanging off her shoulder

“Damn- You really thought you were coming to the Met or something, huh?” She’d definitely laugh it off, but she’d assure you that you look incredible. She’d even apologize for not being more specific or for not dressing up herself 

Her idea of an adorable date is letting you help her cook. Being able to make a meal with her loved ones always makes her feel at home, and you’re no exception to that 

She’d definitely teach you how to make a kick ass risotto and would hold your hand the entire way

If you did something wrong, she wouldn’t be nearly as harsh as she would’ve been with Jacob or Janine. She’d lightly redirect you and even show you how to do it by guiding your hands with her own

And for the most Sicilian thing to do, she makes sure to get out a bottle of wine so you two can indulge in some drinks while the meal is getting prepared 

She has on her favorite tunes in the background, and the more tipsy she gets, she definitely starts to sing to you which is so sweet (even though her voice is completely off key, still super charming) 

Absolutely letting you be a taste tester, offers you the cooking spoons or makes you eat something out of her hand 

She won’t say it out loud, but she loves how you go with it. It’s adorable to her that you’re comfortable enough to trust her and lowkey she thinks it’s kinda hot how your mouth feels around her fingers ANYWAY

Once the food is done, you help her set the table and get all the food set up. She cracks open another bottle of wine so you guys can still drink during dinner 

You literally wanna pass out because the food is so good. You had no idea that she could cook like this, and it’s very clear she takes a lot of pride in her work with that pleased smirk on her face.

She’s also just so happy to see you so happy and in her space being so comfortable, that’s all she wants in a partner and you’re fitting in so seamlessly with her life

You guys talk about everything under the sun; About work, about annoying people, she tells you crazy stories from her family, maybe some about her antics and how she’s run away from the law, in return you’d tell her stories of your own 

Before you know it, dinner is completely gone and so is half the bottle of wine 

You both are much more tipsy than before, but it feels so cozy and warm. Melissa is even gazing back at you with her chin resting against her hand, just taking in how beautiful you are

“Mm.” She’d hum a little bit while she’s just silently staring at you, to which you ask her what’s on her mind 

“Oh, nothin’. Just was thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.” 

There’d be a small pause before she just leans in and presses her lips to yours 

It’s heated almost immediately, because this woman does everything with as much passion as she possibly can- But she’s also so tender and makes sure to hold you while she’s getting closer to you

Melissa doesn’t care about rules, ya’ll are going straight up to her bedroom if you’re comfortable with that. If not, she fully intends to cuddle you on her plastic wrapped couch 

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (16)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: E (slight somno) Words: 800 Summary: New plan

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

This was either the best or worst idea he’d ever had.

She’s asleep in his arms, her body so much cooler than his that it’s a balm to his scorched skin. He should move. Should wipe away the cum he’d stained across her skin before it had a chance to scar her. But the Rad-X and other drugs would protect her for a spell, he was certain, and her natural healing would take care of the rest. And besides, he didn’t want to.

He was perfectly content to lay there, holding a bundle of soft, cool woman in his arms.

It’d been a long time since he last did this - before the bombs fell. A little piece of nothing he’d picked up at a bar the night his divorce was finalized. She’d been nice enough, probably even had a name - not that he’d ever asked. Since then there had been an occasional fuck with someone as scarred as he was, few and far between, but never cuddling. Never laying together and feeling the giggles that made her vibrate against him.

A man could get addicted to that sort of thing.

It was plum near idiotic is what it was.

“You’re a damn fool,” he mutters to himself once he’s certain she can’t hear him. It felt necessary to put the words out there. To acknowledge to himself he knew what was going on.

It needed saying.

In over two hundred years he’d never felt the slightest desire to change his life for someone. To let their wants or needs supersede his own. He’d only had one driving force, find out what happened to Janey and put a bullet in his bitch of an ex-wife. 

Simple. Easy.

But now…

Now he wanted to travel north, find whatever piece of land this crazy girl had her eye on and homestead for a bit. His family had waited this long - what was another fifty, sixty years? He could live a life and then continue on after.

It was a tempting thought, assuming she was amenable. It was one thing to fuck him, another entirely to hitch her wagon to him.

Then again, maybe the fucking was enough. If he kept her happy, kept that silly little blissed out smile on her face and her body shaking from the pleasure he could give her… maybe it would be enough to make her stay.

Maybe it’d even be enough to make him forget.

He skates a hand down her back, feeling the way her skin dips under his fingers. She’s smooth, so unlike him in every way. He cocks an eyebrow when he feels his dick stir. Now that it had woken up from its hundred year slumber it seemed eager to make up for lost time.

Slowly, so as not to wake her, he rolls her to her back. He’d been too fascinated by those soft thighs of hers from the start to give up the opportunity now. He shifts his weight over her, pressing kisses across her shoulders and down between her breasts. He’d made his vow and would abide by it, his lips would never approach hers.

Well, at least not those lips.

Taste is just about all he has left and he savors the moment his tongue flicks out into the slick heat of her. She moans softly, bending her knees and he takes the opportunity to sling them over his shoulders. He presses kisses between her thighs, using his tongue to part her lips so he can flick across her clit.

“Cooper?”

God, he loves hearing his name on those pretty lips.

He rewards her by pressing deeper, digging his fingers into her thighs and sucking at her. She cries out, hands coming down to grasp at his head and he growls. 

“Oh Cooper.”

He’d walk through fire for this woman.

He flips her over even as she’s still shuddering, coming to his knees behind her and settling his cock deep inside the wet heat that calls to him. He’s been watching her ass sway for the better part of a week and he slaps a hand across one cheek just to hear her gasp his name once more.

“That’s it, sweetheart, rock that wet little cunt on me.”

She is, hands fisting into the sheets while she squirms under him. It’s enough to make him throw his head back, dig his fingers into her hips and beg the sweet Lord above for some patience.

Keep her pliant.

Keep her blissed out.

Keep her his.

Just… keep her.

☢ ☢ ☢

For updates follow and turn on notifications for @brandyllyn-writes

[its-in-the-woods]

Coyote Head - Part 6 - Postcard Perfect

master list

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Pairing: Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean 

Includes many other characters from Fallout

Synopsis: So much can happen in one morning. A picture perfect moment, and meeting with a ex.

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning:  Animal/people death,, Alternative Universe, Slow Burn, Death, Aging, Family Feuding, Older Man/Younger Woman

Note: that I will not be spoiling any of the reading. So you have been warned. I will keep my tags relevant without spoiling what is happening in the story.

*Actually pretty fluffy... for now.. enjoy

The next three days go by fast, cow checks happen every four hours, every day, like clockwork. Morning, afternoon, dinner, and then two overnight. Cooper handles the ones during daylight hours, his brother Mark handles the night ones. Lucy was grateful for that, not that she slept much, between nightmares and random knocks on the house. She’d kept most of that to herself, but Cooper had noticed, he noticed a lot of things. He'd even offered to do the first shift so she could sleep in, but she, of course, refused. The routine meant she got a moment out of the house, it also meant she got to hang out with the kids. 

Matthias still wasn’t her biggest friend, but his guard was lowering slowly. On Friday, when Cooper brought the kids over after school, he had handed Lucy a drawing. For being twelve he was pretty talented. He’d taken the time to draw a field, cows, and calves with the sun setting in the background. Lucy had thanked him and promptly put it up on the fridge which granted her, her first real smile from him. She’d do anything to hug him, but for now, she’d take the picture. She knew what it felt like to be young and not understand why a parent was gone. To not understand why things had changed suddenly. Lucy was just grateful that he had Cooper, what she would have done to have had at least one parent with her. Even though she loved her Grandparents, it was never the same without either of her parents. 

Janey was a whole different story, she loved to tell stories, and read stories. When she had discovered that she could read from Lucy’s bookshelves she was over the moon. Lucy doing her best to persuade her from anything too adult-themed. Settling on a classic, Hobbit. Cooper had shrugged in agreement, mentioning that she had always loved to read as soon as she learned. So Lucy let the copy go, the little girl was immediately taken by it. 

Lucy woke up Saturday morning having finally slept, she actually felt somewhat refreshed. Her mind was always wandering to Cooper. The more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to spend time with him. Even though they were nearly living out of each other's pockets, she couldn't help herself. Mind wandering to what kissing him would feel like, how his hands would hold her. Lucy flushed and finished getting herself dressed in comfortable clothes and made her way to make a pot of coffee. Feeling her feet get wet as she walked into the water.

“What the-” Lucy cussed, as she lifts her foot to inspect a large pool of water. “Dang-nabbit.” 

She runs back to her room digging out a handful of towels and toeing off her socks before running back to the kitchen. Lucy lays out the towels on the floor, scrambling to open up the under-sink cupboards. The various detergents and cleaners are thrown out as she tries to see what’s leaking. The space emptied, so she could see that the pipes had been split. 

“My goodness, why!” Lucy grumbles, realizing that the pipes had split just on the other side of the shut-off valves. 

She gets up too quickly and bangs her head on the underside of the sink. More words fall out of her mouth as she rubs the bump. Moving swiftly to the door she unlocks it and walks out, stepping around the rocks and stones as she goes to the side of the house. Swinging open the crawl space door she ducks in, happy that the water shut-off valve was inside. Lucy turns it off, her feet covered in the black mud as she stomps back into her house. Lucy closes her eyes for a moment to collect herself, before she starts to mop up the water that’s left on the floor. 

“Lucy?” Cooper’s voice comes in from the doorway.  

“Just in the kitchen,” Lucy replies, happy that help has finally arrived. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Cooper says, placing his hat on a nob by the front door. Walking into the room to observe the mess that was spread out onto the floor. 

Lucy sighs, as she drops the last towel into the sink. “The pipes under the sink burst, split just on the wrong side of the shut-off too.”

Cooper crouches right beside her, the smell of cigarettes and coffee wafting off of him. Lucy shuffled over so that he could see what they were working on.

“Well that’s weird,” Cooper squints, leaning forward to kneel on a rolled-up towel. “Never seen that happen before. Unless it froze, which would be odd for the beginnin’ of April.”

Lucy sighs, rubbing at her head, “Everything is insulated, and the heat tape is still on it. Plus it would have burst other pipes too.”

“Move’er, sweetheart,” Cooper murmurs, Lucy shifts over, as Cooper crawls into the cupboard pulling a pocket knife out of his pants. 

Lucy swallowed as his shirt rode up a sliver of tanned skin being exposed. Lucy feeling like she was fourteen seeing a boy shirtless for the first time, averting her eyes she chooses to stand up. Looking around trying to figure out how to hide the flush that was now staining her cheeks as the man fiddled around under the sink.

“Do you want coffee?” Lucy asked moving over to the cupboard to dig out cups. “I got a spare to-go mug.”

“Yeah, s’good.” Cooper said, voice echoing from below her. “Do ya’know if you got some spare PEX pipe hanging around?”

A knock on the door, had Lucy spilling coffee on her hand, Cooper banged his head under the sink. A whole slew of curse words spilling out of both of them, Lucy moves to the door. Completely forgetting with the mess that Dane was coming over to work on the tractors. 

“Lucy,” Dane says, a smile fading from their face as she takes in Lucy. “Oh, shit. Are you okay?”

Lucy tries to smile which turns into more of a frown, “Pipe burst. My kitchen is a mess, but I have coffee?”

Dane chuckles, looking into the kitchen Cooper standing with a pieces of Pex in his hand, his other hand rubbing at his head. The two of them give awkward smiles at each other. 

“Oh! This is Cooper.” Lucy said, wandering back into the kitchen to pour three cups of coffee. “Cooper, this is Dane, they have come over to work on Tim’s old tractors.”

Cooper nodded, reaching a hand out to shake Dane’s, “Nice to meet you Dane, please excuse the mess, pipes seem t'have burst.”

“Not a problem, at least there is always coffee.” Dane nods, happily accepting the coffee Lucy hands over. 

“There is sugar in the gnome on the counter, cream is in the fridge.” Lucy says, handing Copper his mug of coffee. 

Cooper took a few sips, before helping Lucy place things in somewhat order on the counter. Lucy takes all the sopping wet towels into the laundry room hucking them into the washing machine. 

“We do have calf check, but I can show you where the tractors are. There is pretty much any tool you could need, along with an arrangement of parts.” Lucy chatters, as the trio make their way to the door.

Across the yard the three go to the big green and grey barn, Cooper helps slide the heavy wood doors open, Lucy had worked hard to get the place functional. It hadn’t had many animals in it, Tim had turned it into a workshop, engine hoist, and a large tool bench. The two tractors are slotted side by side. 

“This is perfect!” Dane beams, coming over to inspect the two beasts. “They look brand new! I bet I'll have them running by end of the day.”

“Thank you so much, Dane.” Lucy smiles, “I'll leave the house open, help yourself to whatever you need. We'll be about an hour or so barring any problems. You can always text me.”

Cooper was digging around on some shelving, grabbing some PEX pipe, fitting, and a few tools. “These should fix'd problem, I will drop’em off inside before we head out.”

Dane and Lucy stand there watching Cooper walk away. Lucy’s cheeks flush as she admires the man. Dane looks at Lucy, rubbing at the side of their face. 

“So are you two,” Dane makes a gesture between Cooper and Lucy, “A thing? Or?”

Lucy feels her face go even more red, she looks away for a moment, before looking back at her friend. “Umm, no. We are friends, neighbors. Helping each other out and whatnot.”

Dane chuckles as they go over to the closer tractor, “I am not one to judge,” Lucy watches them opening up one of the tractor’s bonnet. “Has he told you what happened to his wife?” 

Tilting her head to the side Lucy raises her eyebrows. “I know he is a widower. But I haven’t pushed any further than that.”

Dane nods, already starting to fiddle with different parts, “I’d ask him about it. Especially if you’re -ah- interested.”

A pool of anxiety fills Lucy’s stomach at the words, “Yeah, I will ask him.”

“We ready to go?” Cooper asks, Lucy nearly jumping at his voice having not heard him come up behind her. 

Lucy puts on a smile, reminding Dane again to call if there is any issue before leaving with Cooper. The man moving at a good clip to the already running truck. He opens the door for Lucy, she smiles and slides into the seat. It was hard not to let her mind run over Dane’s words. She needed to ask him, or she was going to explode. She wasn't good with secrets, or not asking questions she wanted answers to.

“Umm,” Lucy fiddles with the gloves in her pocket as they roll down the gravel road. “Can I ask you a question?”

Cooper’s brows are raised as he turns to her, “Yeah, I am an open book Luc.”

Lucy licks her lips, staring at the newly leafing trees, “Can I ask what happened to your wife?” 

Oh good Lucy, just straight to the point. No tack, for this poor guy who lost his wife, whose kids are still emotionally wrecked from it, Lucy thought to herself. Wishing she'd learn more tack as an adult.

Cooper shifts, sliding in his chair a little as he looks out the window. Lucy half expected him not to answer, or tell her that it was something he didn’t want to talk about. He gripped the steering wheel tight, knuckles white against the black leather.  Eyes focus on the gravel road ahead of them as he searches for the words.

“I was outta town, helpin’ my brother-in-inlaw move cows to summer pasture. I got a call around four from Barb’s parents, sayin’ she hadn’t come to pick up the kids. They’d gone to the house and she wasn’t t’either. Barb was a champion rider, Thunder, was’er ride. Big beautiful deep black stallion, she rode’im three times a day. Mornin' after droppin’ the kids off, afternoon before the kids came home, and evenin’ after dinner.” Cooper rolled his shoulders as they drove into the field. Lucy jumping out to open the gate, climbing back in once he was through and the gate was closed.

“I went’ome, drove way faster than I shoulda. But Barb. Barb was never late, the woman was punctual to a fault. So we searched, and searched, called the police. More searchin’. We had about forty acres mostly forest’d that Barb rode. That entire area scavenged, the house turn’d upside down, the barn gone through. They picked apart everythin’.” Cooper’s voice was shaking as they drove towards the herd. His eyes are glassy, as he rubs the back of his hand over his nose. 

“They tried-” His voice shook as his eyes continued to scan the horizon. “They tried’t blame her disappearance on me.”

Lucy felt her heart clench in her chest at the words, the thought that he’d been accused of his wife’s disappearance made her stomach turn.  

“But I was in another county, my brother-in-law, thankfully, vouchin for me.” Cooper points at a fresh calf, the two working with practice ease to tag the little thing.  

Cooper sat in the truck for a moment, eyes flickering, “Then we found Thunder.” Cooper works his lip into his mouth for a moment. “He’s on the side of the highway, inna ditch. Over a hour drive away from t’farm. Looked like he had been dumped. It made no sense, wasn't any sign of how the animal had pasted either, just restarted’eir investigation into me.” 

“Cooper,” Lucy said quietly, her hand finding his hand on the bench seat and squeezing it. 

Cooper nods his head but continues, squeezing her hand back. “They wouldn’t lay off, I did everythin’ to cooperate. Then after the third time of them tossin’ my house I blew up. I gotta lawyer, I told’em not to come back t’my property.” Another tag, and Lucy feels dizzy by the foggy emotions flooding the truck as she sits back down. 

“They’d everythin’ to turn everyone against me.” Cooper blinks a few times, “My in-laws stood beside me, pushin for the police to look anywhere. But nothin’ came of it. Just no answers, nothin', just gone.” 

Lucy brushed her own tears out of her eyes, so many questions bubbling under the surface. His hands gripping the steering wheel as he parked the truck on top of the hill looking out towards the valley. 

“T’was too hard to stay, the whole town won’t look at me.” Cooper swallows, “It won’t hav’been so bad if it has just been me, but they came after the kids too. Mathias was gettin’ picked on. That was the final straw, sold everything and left. They never figured out what happen’d to Barb. I think about her every day. Wondering what I could've done different.”

The silence in the vehicle was deafening, the two of them watching the cattle move along the lower field. Lucy’s heartbreaking hearing how Cooper had lost so much with no answers. 

“Thank you for telling me,” Lucy said quietly, her hand finding his again. “I can’t imagine how hard this must have been for you. To have to leave everything the two of you built.”

Cooper nods, his fingers lacing with Lucy’s, “t’was hard, I keep waitin’ for it to get easier. For there to be answers.”  Cooper turns looking at Lucy, hazel eyes looking over her face. “I am goin’ to be forward here.” Lucy nods her head, willing to hear whatever he had to say to her. “You’ve been a bright spot for me, I look forward to this.”

He gestures at the pasture, the sun hanging in the sky, clouds drifting in. Cows mooing for their calves, as the calves chased each other through the freshly growing green grass. It was so serene, postcard-worthy her Granddad would have said. 

“I look forward to spending time with you, Lucy,” Cooper states, eyes watching her closely, as the sunrises into the truck cab.

Lucy took her shot and slid across the bench seat, Cooper looking at her eyes wide as she leans in. Her hand gently touches the side of his face, the beard stubble rubbing under her fingertips as she presses her lips against his. Lucy going to lean away, when Cooper doesn't respond, Cooper immediately moves after her. Something has snapped in the truck, Cooper easily pulling Lucy onto his lap. She pushes his hat up so she can kiss him deeper, her hands moving up into his hair as he pulls Lucy against his chest. Lucy sucking his tongue into her mouth, the taste of coffee and cigarettes flooding in. His large hands come to rest against her hips, fingers running along the top of her jeans. 

Cooper breaks the kiss, Lucy wanting to chase after it, scared that if they stop it won’t continue. The smile crossing his face has her pausing, Lucy worrying her lip into her mouth. Copper’s fingers pushing under her shirt to feel her skin. A shiver running over Lucy’s skin at the feel of his calloused warm hands. 

“This isn’t how I imagined it,” Cooper hushes, his tongue running over his bottom lip as he looks at her. 

Lucy raises her eyebrows, “Oh? What did you imagine? Would it be weird if I said I was thinking about you too?”

Cooper’s smile gets bigger, “Was going to invite ya to the spring dance. Felt a little, ahh, school crush, but I want’d a reason for-” Cooper swallows, “A reason for us t’go somewhere nice.”

She can feel her cheeks red at the statement, “I’d go with you. If you still want to go.”

Cooper leans in and kisses her gently, “I’d like that Lucy.” 

***

Dane is covered in grease, a smile on their face as the larger of the two tractors starts up. Black smoke pumps out as the machine stutters to life, Dane doing a fist pump and jig as it roars. Lucy grins as Dane hops up and takes it for a spin around the yard, before parking it just outside the barn.

“Well, that one is running well. Have to get the attachments dug out, make sure the PTO is working the way it should be.” Dane beams, walking over to Lucy who has a sandwich on a plate for them. 

“I cannot thank you enough for getting it running again Dane,” Lucy replies, “I think the smaller shed has some attachments if you’re up for taking them out.”

“Yeah, I am gonna let this one run for a bit, I think I am going to need to source a few parts for the second one,” Dane says walking into the barn, holding up the pieces of what was supposed to be a part. “I’d normally make something, but this has to be calibrated properly.”

Lucy nodded, “Get what you need, I am not too surprised there are parts that need to be replaced. Whatever is needed, got to get’em running properly.”

Dane nodded, washing her hands with the hose before grabbing the sandwich, “I will keep at it, thank you for the food by the way.”

“Of course, and make sure you invoice me for everything, k?” Lucy states, Dane nodding as they continue to eat the food. 

Lucy walks back towards the house, head-turning up when she hears a car coming down the drive. A small blue Nissan rolling down the gravel, Lucy stopping in the middle of her drive to see who the hell it was. The car stops door opening up as Max steps out; average height, with tight black hair, dark skin, and equally dark eyes.

“Max?” Lucy asks as if she isn’t looking right at the man. He stands there awkwardly, not really smiling but not frowning either. He straightens himself up and closes the door walking towards her. 

“Hey Lucy,” Max grimaces awkwardly, rubbing a hand over the tight black curls on his head, “Sorry, it’s taking so long to get here.”

Crossing her arms, Lucy narrows her eyes at him. “What are you talking about?”

Max stops a few feet away from her, arms resting against his slides, “I wanted to come see you, it’s been a few months since we spoke.”

Lucy walks forward, anger pooling in the pit of her stomach, jaw clenching as she stares down her ex. “Yeah, 'cause we broke up. You didn’t want me moving back up here. Actually, I am pretty sure you said if I left not to bother contacting you. Seemed pretty cut and dry to me.”

Max opens his mouth several times before closing it, gritting his teeth and looking away. “I didn’t think you’d actually stop contacting me. We’d been together for almost a year.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Lucy huffs, her voice shaking, their relationship hadn’t been great. They’d met at the imaging clinic, Max was shy and a little awkward but charming. They’d hit it off over lunch one day, which led to him inviting her out to go with him for dinner. He was the opposite of what she had grown up around, it had been appealing at the time. Over time the charm had faded, and the sicker her Granddad got the worse their relationship got. It ended up with Max telling her that if she moved away they were done.

“Lucy, sweety,” Max goes to move to touch her and Lucy backs away. Max’s face falling, his mouth set in a thin line.

Throat clearing has both of them turning, Cooper stood on the front porch shirtless staring down Max like he was going to blow his head off with a glare. Lucy’s mouth opening slightly at the tan skin exposed before her, trying to get herself to focus on what was happening. 

“Not sure the lady here,” Cooper states walking down the steps towards them, “Is interested in your company.”

Max looks equally as flustered as Cooper steps beside Lucy, eyes downcast as his cheeks flush.

“I just wanted some closure.” Max swallows, looking away from the two of them. “Maybe change Lucy’s mind.”

Lucy let out a sigh, moving towards Max, carefully putting a hand on his shoulder. “Max, you’re a good guy, but we both know this wasn’t going to work out. You hate the outdoors and bugs, and you’re allergic to hay.”

Cooper had taken a few steps back, well-muscled arms crossed his chest as he watched the two of them. Dane had made their way down the hill, brows furrowing at the clear standoff happening. Max’s shoulders were tight as he listened to Lucy’s words.

“Is this what you want?” Max said finally turning back to her, his eyes glazing at the words. “Like to be here? On the farm.”

A tight-lipped smile graces Lucy’s face. “Yes Max, I think you knew that though. Knew it won’t work out between us.”

Max looks at the company in front of him, his hands fiddling with the pockets of his pants. Head ducked down like he was trying to make himself smaller. He nods his head several times. 

“Well, I guess that settles that,” He twitches his nose, looking out towards the forest. “I am staying in town for a few days, just visiting family. You got my number still?”

Lucy nods her head, desperately wanting to make things right, but knowing that it wasn’t worth it. Things needed to end between them, and if he needed to drive three hours to figure that out then so be it. 

“Goodbye, Max,” Lucy said quietly, Max nodding as he got back into his car to drive out. Her stomach turning, the thought that this wouldn’t be the last time she saw him gnawing at her mind.   

Part Seven

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Tag list: @toogaytofunctiondangit

*I can't believe we are 6 chapters in, this one is slow, but hold onto your hats for chapter 7!

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[tampire]

Adelheid Bernstein and Heidern in King of Fighters All Star

[novelmonger]

Continuing with the Production/Post-Production audio commentary for TTT, with Barrie Osbourne (producer), Mark Ordesky (executive producer), Andrew Lesnie (director of photography), Mike Horton (editor), Jabez Olssen (additional editor), Rick Porras (co-producer), Howard Shore (composer), and Jim Rygiel (visual effects supervisor). Here are my notes for things that were new to me:

There's actually very little CG involved in the transition from the aerial shot of the mountains in that first scene to the inside of Moria with the Balrog. The mountains were obviously shot from a helicopter, and then they built a little tunnel set that they moved the camera through, and then they just slapped them together so it would look like you're basically going through a crack in the rock to get to the cavern where the scene is happening.

Originally, Sam's knot in the Elven rope untying was going to be a CG shot, but someone on set on the day figured out how to tie the right kind of knot that they could just pull apart like that and make it look believable.

Okay, this is why I love what Howard Shore did with the soundtrack so much. When talking about coming up with Gollum's theme, he said he wanted to take an instrument that's used in the Shire music and incorporate it into Gollum's music, because Gollum was once something like a Hobbit. He ended up choosing the hammered dulcimer, because it has a very tremolo quality to it that seemed to fit Gollum's character. But there's still an echo of what he once was.

In that beautiful shot going up Barad-dur, they shot this huge miniature they'd made that was 166th scale and stood almost 7 meters tall. Even though it was so huge, they had to get the camera very close to capture the detail; it was never more than three or four inches away from the surface. The main challenge was keeping the lighting consistent, because you'll notice the camera moves almost 180 degrees around the tower. So they actually had to move the light source with the camera as they twisted around the tower.

The Wild Men are played by a biker gang! XD

It was a little confusing how this was said, but I think this is what he means: Almost all of the dialogue in these movies was rerecorded, because the nature of the action going on or the conditions of the location or having to speak through prosthetics and whatnot made the dialogue recorded on the day unusable. The only characters they never bothered recording ADR for were the mother who sends her children to Edoras on the horse, and the girl. The conditions that day were good enough, and the girl's performance was so good on the day, they knew they would never be able to recreate it in a recording booth, so they used what they recorded on the day. But everybody else had to rerecord lines. That doesn't mean all the dialogue you hear is necessarily ADR, but something like 85% of it is. I think they did a really good job of not making it sound like it's all recorded in a booth!

Something you sort of unconsciously notice but maybe don't consciously think about it is how the lighting in Edoras reflects Theoden's mental state. In the beginning, when he's completely under Saruman's control and is on the verge of an unnatural death, the hall is kept very dark, and the colors are all muted, with lots of yellowish and greenish tints to make you feel slightly sick. But then once Gandalf comes and releases him from Saruman's control, there's much more light and vibrant color in the hall.

Three of the times Viggo kicked the infamous helmet, it hit Andrew Lesnie's leg XD He says he winced every time it went past, and it's a wonder he didn't jiggle the camera when it happened.

They mentioned it's really difficult to get a horse to stomp on top of a camera underneath plexiglass. You can train them to do it for days, and it's kind of a toss-up whether they'll actually do it on the day, because they really don't like doing it. So I guess it's pretty cool that they managed to get that shot of a horse almost stomping Pippin!

I have trouble identifying the voices, but someone said, "You've got to throw out preconceived notions of how to make movies when you're working with - either with Peter, or with a giant tree guy holding a couple of Hobbits."

They talked about the importance of foley for selling Gollum as a real character who was really there in the same place as the other actors. At first, the foley guys performed him the way he looks, with very light movements since he's so skeletal. But then they went back and made the movements sound heavier after all, because it just made him feel more real. Another thing they did sometimes was make the movements of Gollum's hands with wet hands or putting their hands on wet rock. They had some samples to enhance the vocal work, what they call "sweeteners" (another example of which would be putting animal growls in with the orc voices). But actually, Andy Serkis did most of the sounds so well with his own voice, they didn't really need any sweeteners for Gollum.

Gandalf's battle with the Balrog was originally going to be longer. You would see not just them crashing into the water, but then they would come out of some kind of lake, and the Balrog's flames would be extinguished, leaving behind just a slimy black monster. You would also see several Watchers like the one in the pool outside Moria from FotR, scuttling away because they're afraid of the Balrog. Personally, I'm glad they didn't bother doing all of that, not least because it would have probably dragged on too long.

For the scene where the Black Gate opens, naturally the mountain trolls that open it were CG, but they had little foam-rubber models there while filming the miniature. At one point, someone set them up so they were playing chess while they waited for the signal XD

They put a lot of thought into how much sunlight they should have in and around Mordor. For the story, Orodruin is sort of belching out these unnatural clouds to hide the sun so the orcs can be outside, and then there's also the symbolic significance of the encroaching darkness. But the problem is that, if everything is always dark all the time, the darkness actually either becomes distracting (hello, all movies and TV shows these days where you can't even see what's happening!) or you become so desensitized to it that you don't notice it anymore. So they often made the decision to have some sunlight breaking through the clouds despite everything, just to provide some contrast so you'd really feel how dark the darkness is, so to speak.

Somebody said: "On some level, we're used to looking at movies and seeing real photography. We know what it is. We may not be able to define it, but we know it when we see it. And so if you're looking at a film and you don't see what we perceive as real photography, we start to worry at some level. We start to wonder, 'How did they do that?' or 'Why does this look the way it does?' or 'Why do I not feel that this is quite right?' When that happens, you've lost the audience, because you're not doing good storytelling. Our job is to tell a story. It's just to tell a story. It's not to show off and show how cool we are at making a digital image or how cool we are at making miniature shots. It's to tell a story and then walk away and erase our tracks."

Uma Thurman was once thought of for the role of Eowyn and Ethan Hawke was going to be Faramir?????? ఠ ͟ಠ

Bernard Hill told one of them that it really mattered that they bothered to go the extra mile and actually construct things when they could have done it digitally. He said it informed his and the other actors' performances, because if they thought it was worth the trouble of going out to some remote location and spending 5-6 months building an actual Edoras when they could have done it all on a set with bluescreen, then it must be worth the actors giving their performances every bit of effort they possibly could.

Sometimes they had to digitally fix the color of Gandalf's nose, because it was a prosthetic, and sometimes it would react differently to the light and would be really obvious that it wasn't his real nose XD

It took 98 takes to get the simbelmyne falling to the ground just right!

All the fires in the Golden Hall, including the one in the center, were gas fires so they could be completely controlled. Not a detail I ever considered before!

Apparently there was some friction between Peter Jackson and Viggo Mortensen about how he played the scene in the stables where he calms Brego. I guess Peter wanted the scene to be more about Aragorn and Eowyn's relationship, while Viggo felt (and played the scene) that the focus should be on Aragorn and Brego. 100% horse girlie behavior XD

During the storyboard stage for the warg battle, one guy was sketching out some ideas for beats in the scene, and at one point he had Aragorn's horse get killed, not knowing the plans for emphasizing the bond between Aragorn and Brego. And Peter Jackson just kind of looked at him and went, "You're going to kill Brego?!" Obviously, they didn't go with that idea.

Apparently they often struggled to keep Orlando Bloom in focus, because he does a lot of "intense Elvish staring," as they described it XD So basically, Orlando's feet would hit the right mark, but then because he's supposed to be giving a sharp glare or looking intently farther than the human eye can see, he would often sort of lean forward, making it difficult for the camera operators to anticipate exactly where he would be so they could keep him in focus.

An interesting observation that the Uruk-Hai's pikes give you more of a sense of how many there are than the actual orcs themselves.

Peter Jackson got the idea for the lamps the Elves hold when they leave Rivendell the day before they were going to film that scene, so the props department worked overnight and made them all in time for the shoot! @_@

Most of the sets were built from foam - specifically, a kind of blue foam that is used to insulate refrigerated trucks. It's very dense and firm material that is easy to carve and also very light, which makes it easier to transport pieces of the set if necessary. Most of the miniatures were also carved from foam, except for the Barad-dur miniature, because it had to be at such a small scale. If they tried to carve the miniature at the level of detail they needed, the foam would have just fallen apart, so they had to work with a harder material (he didn't say what).

An interesting issue that cropped up in the Helm's Deep battle I never would have thought of is the part at the beginning where all the Uruk-Hai are banging their pikes against the ground. Most of them are CG, created by the Massive program that was developed for the army movements so they wouldn't have to be individually animated. So they could program Massive to make the Uruk-Hai bash their spears against the ground, but it was the program that would choose the rhythm in which they did it. It makes for a realistic shot, as anyone who's tried to get a crowd to clap along in time with some music can tell you, but it led to some headaches for the sound team when the rhythms Massive chose were different from what the actual extras did on the day. They had to overlap the sounds of the rattling spears in such a way that it would sound believable with what you see.

They added in a lot of digital arrows to the battle of Helm's Deep, as you might imagine. But some of the arrows were practical ones that were really there, light ones that were blunt and wouldn't hurt anyone - which is great, but unfortunately that means they don't necessarily fly as well as sturdier arrows meant to kill things. One of the difficult things the editing team had to do was choose takes where none of the practical arrows flew astray, so the digital arrows could be added in without having to do the extra work of painting out arrows that weren't going where they were supposed to.

They made a weird comment about that part where Aragorn's like, "How long do you need?" and Theoden responds, "As long as you can give me." Apparently, it was originally "How much time do you need?" but they thought that would be...anachronistic? Like people in Middle Earth, with a more or less medieval level of technology, would have no concept of time itself? People were keeping track of time by sundials and candles and things (not to mention just looking up in the sky and noting the position of the sun) in the Middle Ages, so I have no idea what they're talking about.

Massive and motion capture footage worked really well together. They could motion capture an orc climbing up a ladder, for example, then put that movement into the Massive program, and it would have the other figures react to it like any other Massive figure. I imagine that made things a lot easier for directing the battle the way they wanted it to go.

The part where Legolas shoots down one of the ladders was completely made in the editing/post-production stage. They just found a clip of Legolas shooting, painted out whoever he was shooting at, and instead put in the digital shot of the Uruk-Hai on the ladder.

They shot a whole storyline of Eowyn helping Morwen (the mother of the two children who run away from the burning village) give birth in the caves, and because of this they have to stay behind while all the other civilians escape out the back way. Then some Uruks come, and Eowyn has to fight them off. Uhhh...I wanna see that!!! I totally get why they cut it out of the movie, but...still!

Some of the close-up footage of Aragorn during the final charge was actually originally from the warg battle.

I think I noted this from one of the previous commentaries, but I still marvel over it. For Sam's speech at the end that ties the three climaxes together, all they had of that in the original shoot was the parts where you actually see Sam looking through the window. The part where it's just voiceover while you see the montage of everything else that's happening? All of that was added in later, with just Sean in a recording booth. And, as Mark Ordesky put it as he was talking about it, now you can't imagine it any other way.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Comet Donati [Chapter 7: Heart Attack]

A/N: Hello all! Only 3 chapters left!!! 🥰 Thank you so much for loving this fic and giving all my eccentric AU ideas a chance. I’m currently in Washington DC visiting one of my best friends, so if I’m a little bit tardy replying to your comments/messages then that’s why. Don’t fear!! I will check in as soon as I can, and I am still amazed by and will forever cherish your support. 💜

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (+18), drugs, alcohol, smoking, Shelby being a bigger plague than the locusts of Egypt, mental health struggles, references to violence and abuse, New Jersey, pregnancy, mini golf, lots of content for the Cregan girlies.

Selected Chapter Quote: “We’re meant to be together. We have so much history.”

Word count: 6.2k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: ​​@doingfondue​ @catalina-howard​ @randomdragonfires​ @myspotofcraziness​ @arcielee​ @fan-goddess​ @talesofoldandnew​ @marvelescvpe​ @tinykryptonitewerewolf​ @mariahossain​ @chainsawsangel​ @darkenchantress​ @not-a-glad-gladiator​ @gemini-mama​ @trifoliumviridi​ @herfantasyworldd​ @babyblue711​ @namelesslosers​ @thelittleswanao3​ @daenysx​ @moonlightfoxx​ @libroparaiso​ @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics​ @mizfortuna​ @florent1s​ @heimtathurs​ @bhanclegane​ @poohxlove​ @narwhal-swimmingintheocean​ @heavenly1927​ @mariahossain​ @echos-muses​ @padfooteyes​ @minttea07​ @queenofshinigamis​ @juliavilu1​ @amiraisgoingthruit​ @lauraneedstochill​ @wintrr13​ @r0segard3n​ @seabasscevans​ @tsujifreya​ 

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

You type into Google as you hide in the public bathroom stall, pink tile walls and mint green porcelain, very 1950s, phantom drips of water and humming florescent lights: Can Plan B make your period late?

You scroll through the results, clutching your iPhone with both hands. Faintly, you can hear the rest of the band outside, chattering, laughing, slurping on Slush Puppies, smacking trees and rocks with their golf clubs. Yes, the consensus seems to be; Plan B can delay your period. Incidentally, so can pregnancy.

“Fuck,” you whimper. You peer down at your panties, as if you can force bloodstains to appear: sparce rosy threads of warning, dark red splotches like rust, you aren’t particular. You’ll take anything. “Fuck,” you say again, defeated. You get dressed, wash your hands, and head back out into the cloudless afternoon sunshine.

“Stargirl, it’s your turn!” Aegon shouts as you trot over to them: tenth hole, shaped like an L, featuring an intimidating loop de loop. The course is dinosaur themed; Rhaena picked it. Aegon points to Jace. “This deformed bastard wanted to skip you.”

“I told you,” Jace moans. His speech is garbled and lisping, his face comically swollen, bruised yellow-emerald-indigo and drooling blood, stitches above his left eyebrow. He just had his dental implants placed yesterday; the four teeth that he lost at Club Camelot could not be readily located for reattachment. “I can’t keep track of who’s next. I’m on like four different opiates.”

Baela frets over him. “Shh, shh, baby. Try not to talk.” There’s something about watching someone get almost-murdered that makes you want to forgive them, you suppose.

You grab your club and golf ball, dark blue, from where you left them by a tree. Rhaena gives you a covert little thumbs up and raised eyebrows. Everything good? You smile—too widely, insincere, a liar—and nod. Technically, you have yet to obtain concrete evidence to the contrary.

You take your turn, somewhat awkwardly due to the splint that still encumbers your dominant hand. You are thinking about anything but mini golf. Your ball goes halfway through the loop de loop and then comes rolling back. How many strokes? Four, five, you lose count, it doesn’t matter. Aegon is snickering, though not in a mean way, never in a mean way. Aemond is watching you. He does this constantly; you can feel his eyes—river water, otherworldly atmosphere—on you all the time, you can see him on the periphery of your vision. But when you glance at Aemond, he looks away. You’re wearing flip flops, a black NSYNC t-shirt, and bright pink shorts that Baela insists are of the very short variety. Aemond is staring a little extra hard today. Shelby alternates between glaring at him and at you.

Jace putts next. He misses the ball twice. On the third try, he hits it into a nearby pond. Golden koi fish scatter beneath the rippling sheen of the water.

“Loser,” Aegon declares mildly. “Criston, why the fuck are we in New Jersey?”

“Because you’re playing three shows at the MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford,” Criston says as he putts; his green golf ball sails through the loop de loop, bounces off a wall, and then rolls straight into the cup, a hole in one. “One Direction did it, Taylor Swift did it, and now you’re going to do it too. And if you don’t make it too unbearable for me, I’ll even take you to the beach while we’re here. Okay?”

“Okay,” Aegon agrees. He slurps on his Slush Puppie. “Oh, Aemond, I need the Netflix password.”

“You forgot it again?!” Daeron says. Jace, groaning softly, lies down on the ground in a patch of shade. Baela gets a bottle of Orajel rinse out of her purse and starts pouring it into his mouth.

“Get your own account,” Aemond snaps at Aegon. “I think you can afford it.”

“Bruh, that’s not the point! I don’t know where I left off in Grey’s Anatomy!”

They keep bickering. You stop listening. You can only hear the sounds of rustling leaves, squawking seagulls, the whistling of the warm August wind. You can only feel the weight of Aemond’s half-fascinated, half-resentful gaze on you. He wouldn’t believe me, you think. If I really am pregnant, he would never believe that it was an accident. He would never believe that I was that guilelessly, unambitiously stupid. Hell, I did it and I barely believe it.

You steal a glimpse of Aemond—black shirt and black sunglasses, white shorts, Adidas sneakers—and he turns away, pretending to pick dirt off his golf ball. Interestingly, he will talk to you about things not related to that night in Tokyo; perhaps it would be too suspicious not to, a neon sign for the rest of the band to read. But he never allows himself to be alone with you. And he never touches you, not even a grazing of hands or an absentminded bump as he passes you in aisles or hallways.

Bump, you think miserably. An inauspicious choice of words.

“We should watch Se7en,” Aegon is saying now. “Comet fam movie night.”

You mutter: “We’re not watching Se7en.”

“What’s Se7en about?” Rhaena asks.

“You wouldn’t like it.”

“What’s in the box?!” Aegon shouts dramatically—quoting the beautiful yet doomed David Mills, a name he once borrowed to schedule a Zoom meeting with you—and then cackles. It’s his turn. He clobbers his golf ball and sends it flying through the loop de loop; it pops over the barrier and disappears into a bush. Startled squirrels dart out of the leaves.

“Loser!” Jace slurs as he lies sprawled across the ground, vindicated.

“Stop spitting blood everywhere,” Aemond says. He putts next, and badly: poor depth perception. “You’re getting it on my sneakers.”

“Watch it, cyclops.” Jace points to his own stitches, bruises, surgically replaced teeth. “I let you have this one. Now we’re even. But next time I won’t be so charitable.”

“You’re not even,” Aegon tells Jace, abruptly severe. He whips off his aviator sunglasses, crouches over Jace, glaring and thunderous like a storm. Baela observes this warily. “Not even close.”

Jace is intrigued. “No?”

“No. Your face will heal.” Then Aegon pokes him in the jaw and Jace screams, tears slithering down his puffy, mottled cheeks. Cregan yanks Aegon away before Baela can scratch his eyes out. Criston repossesses Aegon’s blue raspberry Slush Puppie as punishment. Luke wins the game, five under par.

Comet’s first shows in the United States this tour start just like the last few in Asia: Jace is iced, painted with concealer, thoroughly medicated, numbed into semi-consciousness. He does lines of coke in the bathroom under Cregan’s supervision. He can’t perform without it. Criston tried to negotiate a month off for Jace, but the label’s message was clear: get him on stage, we don’t care how you do it, we don’t want to know about it, here’s a blank check, figure it out or we’ll find another manager who can. Now Criston watches Jace with his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes wounded and anxious, his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of what he believes is failure.

The story released to the press is that Jace fell down a flight of stairs but is recovering smoothly. He can barely sing; his mic is turned up, and during Jace’s verses Cregan or Luke layer their voice with his. He wobbles and flubs his way through Night 1 in East Rutherford. You spend the show staring up at the stage without seeing it. Baela and Rhaena are with you, but you aren’t really with them; you feel like if they reached out to touch you, their hands would find only translucent emptiness like a mirage. Shelby is flocked by fellow influencers that she’s invited in from New York City. Aemond is somewhere, somewhere: lurking in shadows, brooding, avoiding, musing, suffering, jotting down starlight-colored judgments in his black-paged notebook.

Per tradition, the band and their entourage coalesce in Jace’s suite after the show. Jace himself, the gracious host, promptly collapses on a couch and lies there senseless as the party spins around him like the planets of a solar system. Baela is perched dutifully beside him, holding ice packs to his jaw, wiping away drool the color of one of Aemond’s Brambles. A tattoo artist is inking a goldfinch, New Jersey’s state bird, to the top of Jace’s right foot. Criston is across the room and speaking—rather tensely, it seems—with cigar-smoking label executives. Shelby is snapping photos with her friends; they take turns posing each other out on the balcony, adjusting elbows and wrists and knees, swiping away stray flecks of mascara, rearranging hair, recommending plastic surgeons. Aegon is typing WhatsApp messages—mostly emojis, from what you can see—to Miley Cyrus. At Luke’s prompting, Aemond begins sharing his comments to the presently sentient members of Comet. He puffs on one of his Benson & Hedges cigarettes as he reads aloud. He kindly skips over any criticisms of Jace’s performance.

You can’t stand hearing Aemond’s voice; not because there’s anything wrong with it, but because there isn’t, because you can’t stop remembering what he said to you in that florescent-white bathroom at Club Camelot in Tokyo, because he uses his words on so many people who aren’t you, because sooner or later your time with Comet will be over and you’ll only ever hear him again through Spotify songs and YouTube clips from before the accident, because he will one day be a ghost who haunts you, rattling doorknobs and chilling pockets of air but never speaking. You escape to ask the bartender: “Can I get a Coke?”

“A rum and Coke?”

“No.”

“Like…white powder coke?”

“No, a Coca-Cola. With nothing else in it.”

“Okay, whatever,” the bartender says, perplexed. He fills a glass with ice and dark liquid that pops and fizzes with carbonation, then slides it across the counter to you. You meander out into the hallway where you can be alone, where you don’t have to pretend to be okay.

The carpet is gold but frayed, the walls adorned with faux marble columns and scuffs from recklessly handled suitcases. Even the hotels are worse in New Jersey. You sip your soda—nonalcoholic, huh? you think, then push it aside—and roam past suite doors and vending machines until you reach the cove of elevators. There’s a full-length mirror hanging on the wall there, gilded, gaudy. You frown at yourself, a reflection that suddenly looks a bit like a stranger. You’re wearing a short seafoam green dress, gold earrings and sandals, and an eerily vacuous expression. You turn and move your hair aside so you can peer over your shoulder at what’s been indelibly penned there since Rome: the tiny comet, the lyrics that encircle it.

I wanted to remember this band forever. To remember Aemond. You can feel your stomach drop as it grows heavy with dread. The pulsing music from Jace’s suite has followed you down the hall, Sugar by Robin Schulz and Francesco Yates. I think I might just have more than a tattoo to remember him by after all.

One of the elevators dings and opens. A man lumbers out, towering, broad, monstrous. You gape up at him: brown threadbare coat, heavy boots, unruly dark beard, grey eyes like a bleak winter sky. There is a miasma that colors the air around him with smoke and alcohol, sweat and earth.

“Hello there,” he says, politely enough. His voice is such a baritone rumble that it’s difficult to understand. He has a British accent, but not like Aegon’s, not like Aemond’s. He reminds you of someone you can’t quite place. “I’m looking for a certain young gentleman. I’m hoping you can point me in his direction.”

“Sure,” you reply, trying to disguise your shock so you don’t offend him. He could be someone important. He could be an eccentric producer or a consultant. Or a drug dealer. “Who…uh…who was it you were hoping to speak with…?”

He smiles: sharp canine teeth yellowed by nicotine, glinting eyes like silver coins. “Cregan Stark.”

“Okay,” you stammer. Drug dealer?? “Okay, okay, I’ll…uh…I’ll go get him.”

You hurry down the hall and into Jace’s crowded, smokey suite, clinking glasses and flirtatious titters in dim lighting like late twilight. You return your empty drink to the bartender, then tap Cregan on the shoulder and inform him that someone out in the hallway is asking for him. He doesn’t seem surprised to hear this. Drug dealer, you think confidently. Cregan gulps his vodka shot and follows you out of the suite. He steps through the doorway. He turns towards the stranger. And then he stops dead. His eyes go wide. The blood drains from his face. And Cregan—immovable, inscrutable, unflappable Cregan—shrinks until he is a child again.

Immediately, you know you’ve made a mistake. You reach for him. “Cregan, wait—”

“My son,” the monstrous man sighs. And of course now you’ve realized exactly who the mirrorlike grey of his eyes reminded you of. “My son.”

You can’t stop him. How could you stop him? Faster than you can think, he has crossed the space between you and entombed Cregan in a stifling embrace. Cregan stands paralyzed, his eyes shifting, searching for escape. Tentatively, appeasingly, his hands slowly rise to hug the man in return.

“Criston?!” you shout. But within the suite, he cannot hear you over the music and the berating of smoke-veiled, bejeweled label executives.

“Did you forget about me, huh?” the man asks Cregan gruffly. And as he steps back he grips one of Cregan’s shoulders: not like Criston would, not like a father, like a vice, like a bear trap. He shakes Cregan once, not too hard. “You can fly your private jet all over the world but you can’t call your own father back? Huh? Huh?!” He shakes Cregan again, harder.

“Criston!” you scream. “Security! Somebody!”

Nobody can hear me. Nobody is coming.

You sprint into Jace’s suite, seize Criston by one hand, drag him out into the hall. On the blurry periphery of your vision, you can see Aemond getting up off the couch to follow you. The second he spots the monstrous man, Criston is roaring. “No no no, get away from him!” He pushes between Cregan and the giant, terrifying, wrathful. The man dwarfs him. Criston doesn’t seem to know it. “You can’t be here. We’ve been over this, you’re not allowed to be here—”

The man tries to reach around him to clutch at Cregan’s shirt. Aemond pulls you away from the scuffle. Criston hits the man in the solar plexus; he is momentarily stunned, wheezing. By the time he straightens up, Criston—louder than you, bellowing and fierce—has summoned security. They are swarming the man and escorting him back down the hallway towards the elevators. Aemond goes to Cregan. Criston looks at you. You’re quivering, penitent.

“I had no idea…he asked for Cregan…I would never have…I thought maybe he was a friend of the band…”

“He’s on our no fly list,” Criston says. His voice is tired yet patient. “But you wouldn’t know that.”

You try to apologize to Cregan, but he isn’t listening to you. He’s listening to Aemond. Aemond is speaking to him, low and calm, too quietly for you to hear. “I’m okay,” Cregan says unsteadily. “I’m fine.”

“It’s alright if you’re not,” Aemond tells him.

And you know that right now you are unnecessary, intrusive. Criston goes downstairs to figure out how Comet’s security guards in the lobby didn’t catch this and—presumably—to ensure that the invader is properly dealt with. Aemond slings an arm across Cregan’s shoulders and leads him back to the party where he is cared for, welcome, valued, safe. You hide in your own suite and try not to think about the dates on the calendar—missing blood, summer days ticking down towards zero—as you steep in a hot bath and attempt to scrub everything you’ve done wrong, today, yesterday, ever, off your skin. Then you change into an oversized Backstreet Boys t-shirt and your favorite Cookie Monster pajama pants.

You try to sleep but of course you can’t, surrounded by a silence that only gets louder. When you hear the swipe of a keycard and the creaking of your door, you don’t know who to expect: Cregan, Criston, Rhaena, Luke, Baela, Jace, Daeron, Shelby, Aemond, ghosts. The clopping of his Crocs gives him away, neon pink to match his tank top. “I’m really not in the mood for anything resembling sex.”

Aegon replies as he kicks off his Crocs: “Did I ask, succubus?” He crawls into the bed, throws an arm casually across your waist, rests his head on your belly as your fingers thread through his chaotic blond hair, fond and tender. He burrows into you, into your softness and your warmth and your truth and your mysteries. Sometimes you feel like you’ll give until he falls into you like a trapdoor, the bones of his hands tangling around your spine, his blood vessels spilling into all of your rage-scarlet cavities, hollows of the flesh, hollows of the soul. “You’re sad.”

You stare up at the ceiling. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what. That’s the strange thing. Usually I can tell.”

“You’ve been gone.”

He looks up at you, confused. “I’ve been right here.”

“You know what I meant.”

Aegon doesn’t argue with you, doesn’t try to defend himself, doesn’t make promises both of you know he could never keep. He only lays his head down on your belly again and pulls himself closer to you, closer, closer, melting into your melancholy, dissolving into dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I was eleven when he broke my arm. Thirteen when he cracked my skull for the first time. Then I got big enough to hurt him back.” Cregan looks out over the waves: blue currents, white froth, sunbeams like glinting blades. As Criston promised, Comet is spending an afternoon in Seaside Heights. You and Cregan are sitting on the sand together twenty yards from the others. “I grew up in a two-bedroom cabin with no electricity or running water. We had a metal wash tub outside, ate deer and squirrels and rabbits, never had clothes that fit, never saw a doctor except when what was wrong might kill us. We had a woodstove and chopped down trees to burn in the winter. I had eight siblings, six of whom are still alive. Barnett overdosed. Courtland drove his friend’s Nissan into a brick wall. I’m not sure it was accidental.”

Your words are soft like a whisper, like gentle hands. “Cregan, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not…” His voice breaks. He stops for a while, composes himself, begins again. “It’s not something I talk about. Not because I’m trying to forget it. I can’t forget it, I’ll never be able to, I understand that, believe me. There’s just nothing to be gained from talking about it. I never feel better afterwards. I always feel worse.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I know that. Don’t you think I know that?”

You wait, watching him. There’s something he needs to say. Down the beach a ways, Baela is doing yoga, her bare feet sure and agile in shifting sand. Rhaena, Luke, and Aemond are flying kites in the breeze: black dragons, green dragons. Shelby is, predictably, filming them from where she stands on Aemond’s good side. Aegon and Daeron are swimming so far out that you’re beginning to worry about sharks. Criston is parked under an umbrella with an unconscious Jace, reading Memoirs Of A Geisha and eating a sandwich full of something called pork roll.

“After Comet happened, I got all of them out,” Cregan continues. “My mum, my siblings. Good houses in safe neighborhoods. Security in case Dad makes an appearance. He does, every once in a while. He’s locked up, he’s free, he’s locked up again. He has nothing else to do but haunt us. I’ve been waiting for him to die since I was old enough to understand what a graveyard is.” Cregan looks at you. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“No,” you answer immediately.

“The thing is…” He holds out one large hand, palm down, like he’s resting it on a table. Then he shakes it. “Nothing ever feels stable. Nothing ever feels safe. No matter how much money I see stack up in accounts, I lie awake at night wondering what I’ll do if it disappears. So many people rely on me. I can’t stop worrying I’ll end up back in that cabin somehow. I can still hear drops of rainwater seeping in through the gaps in the roof. I can still smell burning wood.”

“The fact that you feel this way, given your history, is completely logical…even if the fear itself is not. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Cregan says. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Do you think it would help if we sat down and looked at the numbers and did some math? Because I suspect that even with a hundred dependents, you’d easily be able to float them for the rest of your lifetime just using the money you already have. And there will be royalties from Comet’s songs forever. Maybe if we can show you exactly how improbable your worst case scenario is, that fear will begin to fade a bit. Not go away, not completely, maybe not ever…but I think you’ll be able to quiet it down.”

“I’ll give it a try. If you recommend it.” Cregan lights a cigarette and takes a drag. Criston glances over and then pretends he didn’t notice. “I have a daughter,” Cregan says; and you can’t stop the shock from hitting your face like a fist. He smiles faintly, wistfully. “I know. I’ve worked very hard to make sure she is kept away from…” He gestures broadly. “All of this.” Fame. Debauchery. Tabloids. Reddit threads. “I was way too young. And her mother and I…we were never really together. It was contentious for a while, but we’ve sorted through things. I support them financially, obviously. And when I’m not on tour or in the studio, I disappear up to Lancaster for a few weeks at a time and no one is the wiser.”

You study him as wind tears in off the Atlantic Ocean, as seagulls swoop and screech overhead. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate how you’ve protected her once she can understand.”

“I don’t know how to be a father. Not a good one. But I try. I don’t just show up for movie nights and birthdays. I take her shopping for school supplies. I put her back to bed when she has nightmares. I take her to the dentist, to the park, to the library. She really likes pigs, so I adopted a few from a farm animal rescue and we learned how to raise them together.”

“You caring about being a good parent puts you ahead of a lot of people already,” you say. “Nobody in Comet knows?”

“Just Aemond. Once, years ago, her mother needed something and I was out of the country. I had to let somebody in on the secret, somebody I could trust. I chose Aemond. I chose right.” Now Cregan is amused. “He’s the one who suggested the pigs.”

“Of course he did,” you say; and you can’t help but smile. “How old is she?”

“Six and a half. Do you want to see a picture her?”

“Absolutely. If it’s alright with you.”

Cregan pulls his iPhone from his pocket, swipes around for a while, and then turns the screen so you can see. She looks like him, a lot like him, but with round cheeks and long dark lashes. And Cregan is beaming as he says: “Her name is Iris.”

“So you didn’t have to do the Maury paternity test thing.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “No. I knew from the second I saw her she was mine.”

“She’s lucky to have you.”

Cregan shrugs, pensive, evasive. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do.” And he believes that you mean it; you can see it on his face. Aemond is watching you and Cregan, you notice now. He glances over, pretends he didn’t, glances again. You gesture to the crashing waves and say to Cregan: “If Aegon gets attacked by a shark, will you jump in and punch it or something please?”

Cregan chuckles. “Yeah. That’s my main job here, I think. Stopping people from dying.” And then, seriously: “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I haven’t done anything that warrants it.”

“No. Really.” Cregan reaches out, takes your uninjured hand, squeezes it briefly before releasing you. “Thank you, Stargirl.” Then he stands and walks to the water’s edge, letting the surf rush up over his ankles, for just a moment feeling nothing on his shoulders but the sunlight.

Aemond gives Shelby his kite and, as she glares bitterly, makes his way over to you. He takes off his sunglasses so he can see you better and hooks them on the waistband of his swim trunks: black, of course, his usual color. You’re actually wearing black today too, a flowing coverup over a pink swimsuit. You feel very much like hiding. When Aemond speaks, there is perhaps a hint of envy, green like leaves of poison, gleaming like snakeskin. “What were you and Cregan talking about?”

“Fatherhood.” And then you realize how it might sound.

There is a split second where Aemond looks startled; then he remembers Iris. “Right. Not so easy for people like us to navigate.”

People like us. Celebrities, boy band members, haunted men. You scramble for a nonchalant way to feel out the subject with him. “How does Louis Tomlinson handle it?”

“He’s a saint,” Aemond says. And you think: Patron saint of baby daddies? “Freddie was very, very unplanned. The mother was a nobody, a rebound. And a lot of people assumed she did it on purpose to try to keep Louis. Or to get eighteen years of a luxury lifestyle out of him. Or to just get fame in general. Personally, I believe it was all of the above.”

“Right,” you say, sweating heavily beneath your coverup.

“But none of that is the kid’s fault, and Louis is a good enough guy to realize it. So he plays nice with Freddie’s mother and they don’t go to war through tabloids anymore.”

“So, uh…” How can I put this? “You’re good with kids too. Cregan told me you had the pig idea.”

And the look that crosses Aemond’s face, the look: caustic, incredulous, night-dark, self-loathing. “Are you insane? Have you met me? I terrify kids. And I should, but not just because of the eye and the scar. What the hell do I know about being a decent father? What do I know about being a decent anything? I’d have no idea where to start. I’d fuck it up even if I tried desperately not to. I’d end up with kids like Aegon: addicts who hate themselves, people who are irrevocably lost.”

You say meekly: “I think Criston is something like a father to you. He could be a role model.”

“I’m not half as good a man as Criston is.”

Change the topic, change the topic, before Aemond gets suspicious. And there’s something else you’ve been meaning to ask him. “Aemond…after you almost murdered Jace…when we didn’t know if or how he was going to be able to perform until he healed…did anyone ask you to come back to Comet and fill in for him?”

“No,” Aemond says. And he’s thunderstruck by the thought, appalled, petrified.

“You don’t think that it might have been a good idea? That it might make sense?”

“No,” he says again instantly.

“But…in Tokyo…when Daeron made that speech at the last show…I think the crowd’s reaction was pretty powerful, don’t you? People still care about you. They love and respect you. And I think…maybe…it might help you with what you’ve experienced. To get back on stage—even just one last time—and prove to yourself that you still have what it takes. To know that if you do leave Comet, it’s your choice, not anyone else’s.”

“They love who I was,” Aemond says. “Not who I am now. And that’s easy to do. They don’t have to look at me.”

“Goddammit, there’s nothing wrong with how you look, Aemond!” you burst out. “You look fantastic. I never get tired of looking at you. I want to look at you all the fucking time. I’d hang life-sized portraits of you on every wall in my apartment in Kansas City. That’s how much I enjoy looking at you.”

He thinks you’re joking, he thinks you’re trying to make him feel better. You can’t stop him from thinking these things. And yet still, as he turns away, he is smiling: just a whisper of a curl at the corner of his lips, secretive, fragile.

As Comet is leaving the beach, you stop at a souvenir shop on the boardwalk to buy your keepsake for this tour destination. You settle on a pink frisbee that has I love the Jersey Shore! embossed on it in large, abrasive letters. You think your parents’ Australian cattle dogs will enjoy fetching it when you get home. Home feels so much closer—both literally and figuratively—than it did just a few weeks ago.

Criston is browsing through the t-shirts. “Hey, what size is your mom, Aegon? Medium?”

“How the hell would I know? Probably.” He holds up a pair of red, white, and blue bikini bottoms that say Firecracker across the ass. “You think my dad would mind if you sent her these?”

Criston is blushing. “Aegon, stop.”

“You could get her a bikini top too. Oh look, that one over there is red, it matches. And it says MILF across the tits. So that’s pertinent.”

“Stop!” Criston cries, distressed, and flees the store.

Halfway through the hour-long drive back to the hotel, Aegon insists that Criston stop the Escalades so he can get a hoagie from a Wawa. Aegon has never had a hoagie before. He says he cannot truly experience America without one.

At the ordering counter, Jace—slightly less bruised and swollen today, and thus in better spirits—taunts Aegon: “Are you sure you need all that bread? You’re going to be wearing a muumuu on stage by the time we get to the Midwest.”

“You know, just because you said that, now I’m going to get two hoagies…”

On the television mounted inside the Wawa, CNN is reporting on a group of tornadoes that just struck Wichita. And it occurs to you that tornadoes don’t have trajectories to calculate like hurricanes or airplanes or comets; they are climatological sharks. They strike quickly, indiscriminately, and then they’re gone again. They aren’t named. They aren’t enshrined. They don’t even have a belly to cut open and retrieve pieces of your loved ones from. If they take someone, they’re just gone.

While the rest of the band is in line to order their food, and Aemond is scrutinizing the dried fruit and nuts selection, you sneak through the other aisles.

It’s time. I have to find out eventually. I have to know.

You pluck a pregnancy test—cute, pink, nausea-inducing—off a rack, purchase it with truly impressive speed at the checkout counter, and race to the bathroom. It’s surprisingly difficult to piss on a tiny stick of doom, especially when your primary hand is in a splint and only partially useable. Eventually, you manage. You put the cap back on the pregnancy test, set it on top of the toilet paper dispenser, and stare at the metal door of the stall. The Wawa speakers are playing The Fray’s Over My Head.

It won’t be positive. It can’t be positive.

You think of pregnancy test commercials you’ve seen: happy couples rejoicing, happy single women getting negatives. How are you supposed to react to bad news? Nobody ever tells you. Do you scream, sob, beg for forgiveness, schedule an appointment at Planned Parenthood? Do you kick the bathroom stall door down in mindless feminine fury? Do you throw yourself off a balcony?

There’s no way it will be positive. It was one time. Just one goddamn time.

And who knows if that will ever happen again with Aemond. This does not improve your mood.

You pick up the pregnancy test. It is unequivocally positive.

You shove it into the small rectangular trashcan for pads and tampons, things you won’t be needing in the immediate future. You get dressed, leave the stall, go to the sink and wash your hands. Then you grip the cool, slick, white porcelain and gaze at yourself in the mirror under nowhere-to-hide florescent lights. What do you feel? Everything, nothing, things you can’t name yet. You’re a raw nerve, you’re completely numb.

The bathroom door swings open. Shelby enters. She squares up with great purpose. Your eyes roll to her, slowly, with no tolerance left, not a drop of it. “Stay away from Aemond,” she demands.

“Make me.”

She is in disbelief. “I’m sorry, what?”

You turn all the way towards her. “Fucking make me, Shelby.”

“I knew you wanted him,” she says, she seethes. “I saw you in those paparazzi photos from Reykjavik and I knew you were already twisting your claws into him.”

You hold up your hands to show her; your thoughts are fuzzy, dazed, without inhibition. “I have no claws whatsoever. If I did, you’d know about it. Believe me. You’d be able to look down and watch your heart beating through the gashes.”

“You don’t belong here. Some Midwestern farm girl running around in flip flops and Cookie Monster pajama pants? You’re trash. You’re a user. You’re a nobody. And if you’re trying to steal a taken man, then you’re a whore too.”

“I’ve been called worse things by better people.”

“I can make them hate you,” Shelby says indignantly. “Comet. The world.”

“Good luck with that, Malibu Barbie. Nobody even knows I exist.”

“Stay away from Aemond,” she says again, trembling with her futile bleach-blond rage. “We’re meant to be together. We have so much history.”

“And yet no future.” You smile sweetly, breeze past her, step on one of her perfectly pedicured feet with a thoroughly unpretentious flip flop. By the time you return to them, the band is almost ready to leave Wawa.

You’re not hungry, but Aegon coaxes you into taking a few bites from his hoagie. You’re not able to focus on what people are saying, but you hear Aemond mention that he wishes Comet had time to visit a planetarium in some nearby town called Toms River. You think about what it would be like to lie side by side with him under the stars, under the sky where comets appear again after vanishing for centuries. You wonder if there’s anyplace where you and Aemond could ever be truthful with each other.

At night you can’t sleep. There is no shortage of reasons why. You wander from your bed to the gold-carpet hallway to the vending machines, where you stare brainlessly at the options. Am I supposed to not be drinking caffein? Did I get any Vitamin D today? How much sugar is too much? You buy a bottle of apple juice—surely a safe bet—and head back to your suite.

As you walk by Aemond and Shelby’s door, your steps slow. Some nights you can hear them in there arguing: Shelby reiterating all the reasons why they’re perfect for each other, clearly a rebuttal to an accusation you weren’t privy to. Some nights you hear muffled casual conversation or episodes of Cosmos. Some nights you hear nothing at all. Some nights your imagination colors in the gaps before you can stop it: his hands on her, his mouth on her, things you know you have no right to dread and yet you do. But tonight, Shelby is momentarily removed from the scene. You can hear the distant pattering of the shower, and then Aemond alone in the living room gathering up plates and glasses. He’s singing something very quietly, so quietly it takes you a while to recognize it. It’s not even a Comet Donati song. It’s Through The Dark.

You sit down in the empty hallway, your back to his door. And you lean your head against it as you listen to Aemond singing softly to himself, doubt sinking into you the same way that trapped blood fills a bruise: Maybe it wasn’t as good for him as it was for me. Maybe he doesn’t talk to me because he doesn’t want to. Maybe I don’t belong here anymore. Maybe I’ve invented a history that we don’t really share. Maybe he didn’t mean it when he said he loves me.

“What am I going to do?” you whisper, scalding tears brimming in your eyes, shivering hands settling on your belly. In a few months, you’ll be showing. “What the hell am I going to do?”

[reds-writings]

can you write Cooper Howard with a gn reader i’ll take anything in desperate 🙏🙏🙏

(pairing: the ghoul/cooper howard x gn!reader)

a/n: thank you for the request anon! i used this opportunity to get a feel for writing his character as a practice run so i hope this is to your liking! feedback is greatly appreciated!

warnings: cursing, petnames(?), violence, cooper is a meanie as per usual, etc

word count: roughly 1.1k

“I told your ass he’s mine!” You grunted as a result of harshly landing on your ass for cover in the middle of a truly unnecessary shootout smackdab in Filly.

“You snooze you lose, sweetheart.” Came the lazy drawl of the irradiated cowboy, also known as the absolute bane of your existence, somewhere afar behind his own cover amidst this gunfight. Bounty hunting was already a tough business as is but with the infamous Ghoul who somehow always managed to sniff out where you were to swipe nearly every potential bounty from under your feet, things had started to get fucking ridiculous. 

You were low enough on caps and supplies to where you couldn’t let this tired routine repeat itself once more. Safe to say, you were pissed. 

“Who said anything about snoozin’ or losin’, you fuckin’ radioactive WORM-” You shot at another one of your bounty’s backups before popping out to switch cover.

Bullets riddled the dirt far too close to your feet for your liking before you slid behind an old rundown wagon. All you needed was the damned fella’s head to bring in should you get to him first. How was it any fair that you put in all the work to track these shitheads down and all the Ghoul had to do was follow you right to the goods? Never even lifting a wrinkly finger? No matter how much you tried to throw him off your scent between jobs it was just no use. 

“You best give up now fore’ I put a bullet between those lovely eyes of yours.” Rang his voice again and you wanted to gag like a petulant child. 

“You can take that weird flirtin’ of yours and shove it up your shriveled ass!”

“You think too highly of yourself, sweetheart,” His gun fired off a few loud rounds, “Give up or I’m fuckin’ shootin’ the shit outta you both. Maybe then I'll finally know peace.” More shots zipped by and it appeared his feigned sense of patience was running thin. This cat-and-mouse game seemed to bore him quicker than usual today. 

“Go fuck yourself, cowpoke. You should be able to manage just fine without this one given you’ve nabbed all the others, lazy bastard-” Wood splintered next to your head in that instant. His patience had definitely boiled over but, like a fool, it didn’t deter you in the slightest. You managed to catch a glimpse of the bounty scurrying closer toward an empty saloon to escape. It was now or never.

Grabbing a grenade from one of the corpses nearby you pulled the pin and hauled it with a quick prayer to whoever was listening in the general direction of the Ghoul. You heard a sharp curse and couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you bolted towards the escapee. The resulting explosion of your last ditch effort almost threw you off your feet but you regained momentum quickly with whatever adrenaline-driven desperation you had left. 

It wasn't long before the thwip! of a rope and a violent tug around your ankles dashed all of your hope and short-lived triumph. As well as all the air from your lungs as soon as your tired body slammed to the ground. 

Jagged rock and debris from the Filly dirt bit at your skin as your competitor pulled you towards him like you were a helpless calf caught for slaughter. The anger rolling from him in waves caused by petty inconvenience could’ve had smoke billowing from his ears. If you had any sense you’d start being terrified right about now.

Though, you figured you wouldn’t have to worry about caps anymore if he just finished you off.

“I’ve had just about enough of you. Always gettin’ in my fuckin’ way.” He yanked you close enough to straddle you with a rusted knife to your throat. He wanted to make this personal now. 

“Can’t blame me for tryin’ to survive-” You wheezed as he landed an unforgiving blow to your stomach. He could be a real mean bastard when he wanted to. 

“Quit yappin’.” The ghoul snarled with yellowing teeth and a burning hatred that would have just about anyone else withering away. Up close he wasn’t all that bad looking for what most would dub a monster. Maybe you’d hit the ground too hard.  

“Circlin’ back to pretty eyes…you sure got some yourself for a ghoul n’ all-” Another blow had a flash of stars bursting across your vision. That fucker broke your nose! Seems like snarky jibes from him were fine all day long but sue you for getting one in yourself. 

Before he could decide to jam that knife of his in your throat, a series of hacking coughs erupted from his chest causing his hold on you to momentarily weaken. Looks like his desperation for this bounty came from a lack of Radaway to keep his sorry ass alive.

That was too fucking bad. 

Taking the interruption as your chance, you spit a generous glob of red-hot blood into those pretty eyes and swung a hefty rock at his scarred head. He fell to the ground with a bark of surprise but that didn’t stop you from hitting him again until you made sure he was out cold. 

With your chest heaving, you wiped your forearm beneath your dripping nose and winced. You'd have to reset it later.

Why did everything always have to be so difficult? Fighting this hard for anything these days was hard to be justified for a life like this but the cycle would go on. Pathetic as it was. Looking down at your reddened and dusty clothes you groaned knowing that a bargain for anything decent would be a pain in the ass. 

Your ears perked up at a scuffle nearby. The bounty was still trying to make a run for it. Of course. Taking the rifle from the knocked-out cowboy you aimed from a distance before blowing the runaway to bits and pieces. Job mostly well done. Now you needed to get the hell out of dodge before sleeping beauty came to. 

Rummaging through your bag you found a spare vial of Radaway. If you left it for him he’d probably forgo the more than generous gesture and just be hellbent on eliminating you like he’d originally intended. But, what fun would it be if the only consistent figure in your day-to-day died in the most underwhelming way possible? You needed a reason to fight. That was all. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Rolling your eyes with a huff you flicked the vial at his unconscious form, not really caring where it landed before making your way to retrieve the pesky bounty's noggin and head on to the next town. You’d need to make quick work without any stops tonight lest you wanted to tango with Grumpy again but you'd manage.

He’d find you one way or another, that was a given. But you’d sure as hell be ready. 

[molinaesque]

Cooper Howard and Lucy MacLean's rare and wonderful dynamic (and how it's ultimately alright if they don't become "endgame" or whatever)

First off... I'm saying this as a HUGE ghoulcy shipper btw. I don't wanna hear about some bullshit about how "you just don't like the ship" or something dumb like that (have you SEEN the state of my blog??). I ADORE this ship. These are also ultimately my own thoughts. Do not be affronted if this somehow doesn't apply to your hcs. At the end of the day, this is fiction, nothing more.

Something I have to note on about the wonderful dynamic between Cooper and Lucy. Even if ghoulcy stays platonic, I'm fine with it because this is the closest dynamic to Jack/Liz from 30 Rock that l've seen, and if anyone's seen that show, you KNOW what I'm talking about. Let me explain.

Jack/Liz were two v complex characters that had so much chemistry but the way their "relationship" worked was so unique in that they were never romantic but they're WAY more than just colleagues/ friends, etc. There was literally an article titled like "why you'll never see this kind of relationship in television again" and ghoulcy has the potential to be that again which is still GREAT! It even goes on to talk about how they're COMPLETE AND POLAR OPPOSITES but the dynamic still works and how they feed off of each other in the only way no other characters can. The "dynamic" is THEIRS and theirs only. Seem familiar?

From what we're getting not just in the Fallout show but from interviews with the actors and creatives involved, we're already getting that special dynamic. However, I must stress that many of the comments and those interviews (imo) are sometimes taken TOO literally. The existing text and subtext of the ship is already abundant and ripe so I feel like not EVERYTHING has to be referred to the ship and the ship only. I know it's mostly funsies but I legit wonder if some of this is taken too seriously to the point of misconstruing an actor's words and getting tunnel vision JUST for the sake of the ship and ship only, in turn cheapening what is already there. Kinda like what I've seen with people having to vilify Barb further with unnecessary inferences to scenes that give her more layers (like questioning her genuine love for Janey and Cooper. She can be loving AND a villain y'all. Both things don't have to be mutually exclusive) EVEN THOUGH SHE IS CLEARLY VILIFIED BY THE SHOW BY THE REVEAL SO WHY MAKE UP STUFF? To "punish" her more?? Apologies but this kinda reads as "I need to prop up my ship further so I MUST degrade the other ship" even though it's again... SUPER UNNECESSARY (I must stress I've seen this on ALL sides of shipping/character stanning. Both sides suck when you engage in this behaviour). Have fun and faith in the strength of your ships (ESPECIALLY if they're not "canon" adjacent)!

Anyway, as I was saying...

Going back to 30 Rock, there's literally a scene in the show where they get married due to shenanigans, they get in a big fight the whole episode and in the end sit down and have the most revealing discussion with a councilor about why they're so much more complex than typical relationship. And another scene where they sleep in the same bed together and addressed why they never hooked up with each other and why that's okay. By the way, I was also a HUGE shipper of these two... But I was fine with how they ended up with because the story of their special relationship that makes them uniquely THEM was clear and concise. This did not stop me from reading fics where they make kissy faces. It is possible to do both and I think some ppl tend to forget this.

I'm not saying this for the antis (don't like what you don't like, but if you harass shippers then you can suck eggs and leave. This applies to shippers to non shippers too btw. Be. Nice.), I'm saying all this because I want shippers to not "despair" if the ship that they've become so invested in doesn't come to fruition (and not go overboard into thinking that writers should listen to whatever audiences want all the time, we've been down this road SO many times, it's terrible. Do we REALLY need to talk about how The Rise of Skywalker turned out the way it did due to unnecessary pressure from the loudest antis/asshats in fandom? I think not). Maybe this is also more towards the younger audience members as a cautionary tale because we old ass millenials have seen and been through this but didn't have the immediacy of social media at our finger tips, so it was kinda easier to not be as reactionary. I don't like playing the "you youngins don't know what it was like" card, but at some points it is just a statement of reality. Some of you are/were LITERALLY too young to have experienced this.

Ultimately, what I'm saying is even if ghoulcy doesn't become "romantic", I'm fine with it as long as they stay within the "something more/beyond definition" dynamic which is ALWAYS refreshing to see. Give us more "what are we"! Give us more "it's complicated"! Give us more "we can't be summarized in neat little boxes"!

As long as they don't end up in the pit of "one dimensional interpretation of the Found Family trope which is somehow only just Familial and in this instance Father-Daughter". Please, I BEG. Nothing wrong for people to like this dynamic, but to immediately categorize this into that box is just... Tiresome. You can make the same arguments about "shipping two living beings together on screen all the time" too for sure... But again it leads to my point of if we're going the platonic route how about we NOT just shove it in the same boring dynamic of Father-Daughter that if you want, can find in multitudes of other forms of existing fictional media.

Tldr; have fun but always remember this is all fictional media in the end where we play with dolls in a sandbox. Just remember to BE. NORMAL. and not forget this and start shitting in it and flinging poo at each other. That goes with relationships with creators of said media too. Do NOT become parasocial and expect everything to be catered to you. The creators want to tell a story THEY came up with in the first place.

LET THEM.

[puppiesandnightlock]

I saw a post of yours that hypothetically combined Batman’s Robins with Six: The Musical and that you do fanfic reviews. So. Here. 12k words of script fic be upon ye. It’s all mine! No beta, we die like… well… you know.

WHOO OKAY

i was genuinely so excited upon receiving this in my inbox, haha. So, starting off! Robins: The Musical is what the above description from @inamindfarfaraway's ask says, this fic is a whole script based from SIX the musical, while still being incredibly original. Let's dive in, shall we?

I listened to the whole thing with the SIX album in the background, matching each song with the lyrics and good Lord I was absolutely enthralled with how each rewritten lyric matched up with the given song. Some required a backtrack so that i could say the new lyric out loud to fit it better with the song, but that was to be expected and once I figured out, it was myself and my dog having an impromptu karaoke session with these new lyrics. The thing that I do have to mention is that while the Robins are in chronological order, the songs are not. For example, Dick has No Way, but Jason's song directly after is a re-imagining of All You Wanna Do. In all fairness, the way the lyrics were written (the fighting noises were a delight to act out instead of the 'mwah, ah,') matched up with Jason's character well. It's more of a personal peeve that the songs weren't in order, despite everything matching up.

Favorite lines and random little tidbits:

Damian's entire version of Sorry Not Sorry. Heart-wrenching. The transition from no remorse to regretting everything, the internal conflict? Gorgeous.

"Since I’ve both won and led two highly eventful lives, it’s only fair that I do another song to explain Jason Todd 2: This Time, It’s Personal. This one is inspired by the moment I learned Bruce hadn’t killed the Joker to avenge me. It’s called “Wearing Red to My Funeral”. Sing along if you know the words. 

Rock ballad intro.

Batman is a MASSIVE - "

3. Duke's group being the band! Wonderful little detail there.

4. Damian: I think you would fail the Turing test. 

Steph: Not now, Dami.

5. Steph's entire part. I love you, Stephanie Brown.

6. DAMIAN, DESPITE NOT HAVING "ALL YOU WANNA DO" HAD HIS OWN VERSION OF THE KATHERINE HOWARD ROAST.

7. Erm. Listen, i know the entire point of the musical is competing over who's trauma is the worst, but damn, reading all of it made me do double-takes sometimes.

8. THE END NOTE: "Katherine Howard 🤝 Damian Wayne: having horrifically high body counts as minors."

9. Tim has Heart of Stone, and while that one is the only song that is pretty much the original, I don't think it leaves much room for editing. Admittedly it's one of the songs I most often skip when listening so i didn't think twice of it.

To sum up, Robins: The Musical was amazingly thought-out, keeping both the heart of the musical and the essence of the characters we love so much. This was an awesome experiance for me to read, thanks so much for sending this in! This is both found in the original ask and here, if that link didn't work.

Guidelines for sending fics in are in my pinned post, if you'd like to send someone's or your own in! Happy Reading! ~Harley