#maybe I need to write some fallout stuff…

[paradlselost]

I love my post-apocalyptic waifus … ❤️

[x688plsloveme]

I posted 2,540 times in 2022

48 posts created (2%)

2,492 posts reblogged (98%)

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I tagged 536 of my posts in 2022

#not fallout related - 31 posts

#fallout 3 - 17 posts

#fallout new vegas - 10 posts

#fallout 4 - 9 posts

#my ocs - 8 posts

#👁️👁️ - 6 posts

#james - 5 posts

#oh my gosh - 5 posts

#point lookout - 5 posts

#fallout - 4 posts

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My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Replaying fallout 3 for the thousandth time because I'm mentally ill and it be like that sometimes

Anyway so I just got Charon and after he killed Azrukhal, one of the random ghouls said "Jesus Christ....123 years, what's the fucking point....."

So like. Either Azrukhal was 123 years old, or, and this is what I think, Charon was in his "employment" for 123 years. Which is a long time!!! I'd kill him too!!!

41 notes - Posted January 17, 2022

#4

I've seen people who literally want to date Yes Man and I was so confused cause why???? Until my latest playthrough and I started paying more attention to details and...I get it

66 notes - Posted August 2, 2022

#3

Magnolia Headcanons

Used to be a courser for the Institute, and was one of the first synths (not androids) to defect from them, taking a list of names that the Institute had replaced with synths with her

She refused to have her memory wiped, whether it was by the railroad or institute, so she changed her face and hair to look different

The one obvious thing she refused to change was her voice - she always enjoyed singing along to the radio when she was above ground

Wanting to pursue her passion was the final push she needed in leaving

She arrived in Goodneighbor since it seemed like a place where someone would ask the least questions about her past

She tells Hancock the truth about herself, and offers the document of names in exchange for him not immediately killing her. He reads the documents, recognizes a few names and tells her she can stay as long as doctor Amari can take some scans to make sure she isn’t carrying anything that could be relaying info to the Institute

And with that, she is able to live her own life

She takes the odd job for Whitechapel Charlie - waitressing for the most part, but if Hancock needs someone removed as quietly as possible, she’s the one to do it

Eventually, Whitechapel Charlie hears her sing as she’s cleaning up the bar and insists that she finish the song as best she can

He immediately hires her as a full time singer and sure enough, the bar’s profits sail through the roof

The Third Rail becomes the only jazz bar for miles around, and after her songs in Diamond City Radio’s playlist, people from all over come to hear her sing

She writes her songs and learns to compose them from an old woman who came from out of town

Magnolia’s songs truly become all hers then

She is very partial to flowers - she respects anything able to grow so beautiful in such an inhospitable place

Like all synths, she likes snack cakes

She hates any other thing sugary though, not used to such sweetness after living in the institute for so long

Her preferred method of fighting is hand to hand since it can be utilized well in a small bar like hers and hiding weapons in a dress is too much effort

that being said, she does convince Charlie to let her hide several guns throughout the bar in case there’s ever a time they’d be caught unawares

Part of the reason Hancock greets people who are new to Goodneighbor is so he can relay the information to Magnolia so she can sing “I’m The One You’re Looking For” when they get to the bar

They always get a little extra money that way

She also loathes heels, preferring comfortable boots, but Charlie’s complaining grates on her nerves enough that she complies

She gets her dresses specially made in Diamond City, even having some seasonal ones

She’s much happier singing than she ever was hunting down innocent synths for the Institute

80 notes - Posted March 27, 2022

#2

Companions react to Sole having a Just Dance holotape, and making them dance with them.

Here it is! The promised years old ask! I wonder if this anon will actually see this... Well hope you all enjoy!!!

"Oh my gosh, look at this!" Sole's excited yell startled their companion, and when they looked over to where they were excitedly tinkering with what looked like a projector, they became more confused than anything.

Having guessed their question, Sole was happy to tell them exactly what they were so hyped about. "This was a sort of dance-along holo that was really popular before the war. I never thought I'd see this again - some of my favourite songs are in this edition."

While their companion was glad that they looked so happy, the glint in their eye as they looked back at them made them hesitant to go near. Their intuition was correct because not two seconds later and Sole was dragging them in front of a projector, rambling about how they just had to dance together.

Ada: She was aware that she was still lacking in the "human emotions" department, but she couldn't fathom why anyone would try and dance with her as she is not built for such activities, but Sole assured her it was fine. Sole followed the actual moves less to try and incorporate Ada more while she moved around as best she could. She didn't enjoy dancing per see, but spending any time with a friend was valuable time indeed. 

Cait: If Sole wasn't her friend, she would have dropped kicked them the moment they tried to drag her in front of that god-awful game, and was not shy about expressing as such to them. Sole just laughed, the bastard. "Just try it! You'll like it!" Cait glared at them. "Doubt it." Sole started picking out a song and with an obvious fake nonchalance, said, "Well if you think you're gonna lose that bad, that's all you had to say." Cait took the bait, like always, and shoved Sole's hand away from their pipboy to pick the song herself. "As if you could ever beat me in anything! There! We'll do that one." Sole tried their hardest to not laugh at her choice - it was an expert-level song. It was definitely too much for a novice like Cait, and she was soon cursing at all the fast-paced motions and the idiotic figures on the screen that seemed to be mocking her. After a few rounds, she got fed up and threw the nearest piece of debris at the screen the projector was on, effectively ending their bet. Sole was now fully laughing and Cait was a tad embarrassed. Didn't regret it though.

Codsworth: "Oh, I remember this one mum/sir!" Sole laughed as they tried to dance with their clunky companion, spinning him around when all else failed. He was more than accustomed to their antics by now, and fondly recalled the other times they had seen them dance. Many times with their departed spouse, both slow and silly dances, but all of them saturated in the love they had for each other. He noticed how often they longed for their old life and how detrimental it was to them to experience such a drastic change along with the death of their loved one, so if dancing with him for a few minutes could bring back their bright smile for even a moment, he would be happy to oblige.

Curie: Being the most inquisitive, she readily followed Sole in front of the screen. She was amazed at all of the colours and designs that the holotape held, and was even more impressed by how fluid the motions were conveyed so one could follow them easily. The pair quickly got into the rhythm of the game and had tons of fun. It was exhilarating. Usually something this physically taxing would just end up with her cursing her sweat glands, but this felt different - she was having fun. Sole eventually broke away from the choreography to grab her hands and spin them around and only when they were both winded and dizzy did they let go, causing both of them to fall to the floor, laughing. Sweating sucked, but Curie was glad that she had a synth body so she could experience all of these new, fun feelings.

Danse: "I've seen this before." That stopped Sole in their tracks and they turned to look at him incredulously. He continued, "The Brotherhood prides itself in collecting all kinds of technology, even something as insignificant as this." A cheshire grin spread across Sole's face, and he was once again plagued by a feeling to get out of there, but it was too late and he had already allowed himself to get dragged along already. They said, "Insignificant, hm? So you've never actually tried it out before?" He sputtered as they went about choosing a song they thought they'd both like. "Of- Of course I haven't! Only the scribes and squires ever have access to them." He crossed his arms indignantly. Sole just kept smiling. "Well, prepared to have that changed today!" They put on an easy song and even though he complained so much, he gave in eventually and stiffly tried to follow the movements being shown on the screen. If he was a lesser man, he would punch them for the number of times they laughed at him for being so terrible at it, but he wasn't. And he was actually starting to have fun himself. He was still horrendous at it, but Sole's joy was infectious, and he found himself not caring so much about acting professional and just focused on enjoying the dumb animations and his great company. 

Deacon: He claimed that he had never seen anything like it before, so Sole was very much looking forward to beating him in every song and watching him fumble around. Of course, pride goes before the fall, and if there's any truth to life, it's that Deacon lies with every breath. Despite having years of experience on him, they were quite literally being humiliated with how much better he was than them. He aced even the expert-level songs, much to Sole's detriment. After an hour of trying out every song in hopes that he would be sub-par at the very least to no avail, they were collapsed on the floor, both breathing heavily and smiling wide. Not even Deacon could fake a smile that wide and genuine, so Sole felt like they accomplished something after all.

Dogmeat: Dogmeat didn't really understand everything that was being said to him, but he always loved it when people were excited! While Sole did their best to follow along with the holotape, Dogmeat did his best to weave between their legs, accidentally tripping them. He checked on the fallen Sole, licking their face as an apology, and was happy to see them laughing and not hurt at all. He hoped that they would take the weird light and sound thing since it made them laugh so much.

Gage: "No." His boss almost whined trying to get him to dance with them, but he was adamant and refused over and over again, but his conscious was eating away at him. He thought he'd be relieved to see them give up, but he just couldn't take their overly depressed look as they went to eject the holotape from the projector and shoved them back in front of the screen, gruffly saying to get on with it already. Their mood immediately did a 180 - it was so fast, he wondered if they were just pretending so they could guilt-trip him... Regardless, the song had already started and he'd be damned if he didn't do his best in front of his boss. He followed along as best he could, but between his own awkwardness and his armor, he wasn't accomplishing much other than making his boss laugh. 

Hancock: He was on board right away, curious about a piece of Sole's past as well as how it worked in the first place. When it finally booted up, he blinked in surprise. He didn't expect the dance models to look like something straight out of a trip. He liked it. He didn't really follow along to the dance moves though, he just did his own thing like always. As long as they were having a good time, what did it matter anyway? 

Longfellow: Lord in heaven help him - he hasn't danced in years. He couldn't even remember a time where he just casually danced just for the hell of it, but cap'n was just too insistent and he was just too old (and soft) to refuse. He did his little old man shuffle while Sole hit nearly every beat that showed up on the screen. Honestly, it was too flashy and fast for his tastes, but if cap'n was having fun, then he'd tolerate it.

MacCready: His first thought at seeing the game was that the kids back home would love it. His second thought was that he knows for a fact that he can't dance to save his life and would really prefer to not be made fun of. He tried to backtrack and leave, but Sole had a surprisingly strong grip when they were determined, so he had no choice but to be apart of what must be a sadistic social experiment on his psyche. His flailing arms and wildly kicking legs were more dangerous than funny though, and Sole found themselves dodging him more than they were actually dancing, which is funny on its own if you thought about it. After getting kicked for the third time on the shin, they finally put an end to it, much to MacCready's relief. Unfortunately for him, they informed him that they'd be doing this more often, using the excuse that he had to get good enough to not injure his son when he played it with him. Dam-. Dang it. Using his son like that was low - he had no choice but to agree.

Piper: She was a bit apprehensive, but her inquisitiveness wouldn't let her leave without experiencing a piece of the pre-war world first-hand. Plus, Blue was very obviously looking forward to playing it, and she knows how boring games could be when done by themselves. She was pleasantly surprised to 

Preston: His stumbling around was rather cute, but Sole had to be heartless to not take pity on him eventually and help him out. To be fair, he spends most of his time fighting the good fight, but to have no sense of  rhythm at all was almost sad. He was very determined to be half-decent, but let's just say that Sole was glad to be able to take the holotape with them so he could keep trying at home. There was no way he would be able to get this in one sitting.

Strong: He didn't like the sound of it, but after Sole told him it was a sort of training to help them move smoother, he was readily on board. He was very confident that he was doing every move perfectly, and Sole didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise since he looked like he was having so much fun. He was perfect for any overhead twirls though, and while being picked up like a couple of grapes by a giant mutant would terrify them, it was fun when it was Strong who they knew respected them too much to suddenly ragdoll them into a wall. On purpose anyway.

Valentine: He humored Sole for a little while, half-heartedly keeping up with the dancing figures on the screen, just letting them have their fun. His joints were a bit too rusted to do anything complex anyway - they knew that - and it seemed like they appreciated his effort anyway, so he wasn't worried. After they got their excited bout of nostalgia out of their system, he offered to teach them some dances he remembered the original Nick doing. Those songs were much slower, akin to dances like the waltz, but Sole didn't mind the tone change, and gratefully appreciated his lead. They didn't do much of this kind of structured slow dancing with their spouse back in the day since they were both too busy to take classes on it. They weren't particularly good at it, but Valentine lead well, and they found themselves enjoying this just as much as Just Dance. Good company leads to a great time regardless of what happens it seems.

X6-88: He didn't care how much he respected Sole, he would rather die than dance along to a silly little game like that. The bright menu screen seemed to be mocking him with its headache-inducing colours splashed across like a child's failed art project. Sole was a bit dejected, but understood, so they just took it with them. The actual problem arose when they introduced the game to a few settlers and they all had a blast playing it. His eye twitched. He should be the one standing next to Sole no matter what, not some random waster who could hardly do anything worthwhile. His resolve broke rather quickly, and he marched right up to the small group and pushed everyone aside and approached Sole. They looked at him quizzically, but before they could say anything, he remarked, "For someone as good as you ma'am/sir, only the best can stand beside you." They beamed up at him and expressed how happy they were that he was joining them. He would neither confirm nor deny that their response didn't make him feel a tad warm inside, but whether it was true or not, he ignored it in the face of a new mission: Prove That He Wasn't All Talk. He watched them do enough rounds that he had a good grasp on how to move, but if he was anything less than perfect, then he had no choice but to accept that he wasn't good enough to stand beside him. His pride was on the line here, even if no one else realized it. He only cared about Sole's opinion anyway, and as they danced, he noticed that they didn't really care about any mistakes, their own or otherwise. They were having fun with just this. After a while and he had started to work up a sweat, X had to admit that they might have a point with this game being fun - the way he used all of his body to carry out complex moves while the whole ordeal was perfectly harmless was rather enjoyable. Maybe next time, he would join purely because he wanted to.

129 notes - Posted March 23, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Screw canon. Actually in Fallout 3 at the purifier, instead of LW's companions refusing to start it, they all fight over who gets to do it so LW won't have too

Fawkes owes them a life's debt and he'll repay it (plus he won't die)

Charon wants to repay the person who got him away from that bastard, and showed him kindness he never got before (also he won't die)

Butch wants to make up for all the terrible things he did in the past

Star Paladin Cross has seen far too many young people die in this wasteland

Clover is loyal to a fault

Jericho begrudgingly became fond of the kid, he wants them to have the chance at life he never did

439 notes - Posted April 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[kingofbodyrolls]

End of the World (m) | myg | teaser

→ Summary: Your government has been telling you to prepare for war, just as a precaution given the recent political changes around your country. Did you listen and prepare? No. Are you paying the price now, friends all but gone, and your city burned to pieces? Yes. Survival instincts kicking in, you search for a place to rest, nourish your battered and hungry body, only to find yourself at the porch of a stranger. Will he help you, or leave you to your own demise?  → Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female) → Genres/AUs: science fiction, apocalyptic, survival, co-dependency to stay alive + heavy angst, fluff and smut. → Tropes: strangers to lovers, forced proximity (because love that shit) → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: still writing (approx 10-20k) it’s a one-shot! → Author’s note: hiya. I’m currently writing this apocalyptic story with Yoongi, because… well. I’m fucking scared. So this is me working through and with my fear for something that I’m afraid is actually going to happen. We don’t need to talk about it, because a lot of bad shit is happening all over the world 😭 This is purely a story, though made up by my fears, yeah. Anyway, it’s okay if you’re not into it! The vibe for it is like The Last of Us and maybe a bit Fallout, I think if you enjoy that type of stuff, you’ll enjoy this one too. But it’s really heavy, but there’s a decent amount of fluff to balance it out, because, it’s still a fanfiction and it wouldn’t be that without some good old fluff and smut 🥰

You know you must move, but before you leave, there’s a promise to fulfill for Yuri.

You relieve yourself and step back onto the road, eyes fixed on the distant horizon that seems miraculously untouched by the ravages of war. That glimmer of hope pulls you forward. You have to reach it. No matter the distance, no matter the obstacles, you must get there. 

It’s your only chance.

You walk and walk—days blur into weeks. Your clothes hang off your frame, tattered and too big. Bombings have become a constant backdrop, each explosion a distant rumble you barely acknowledge. The earth’s violent shudders no longer faze you. Hunger gnaws at you, a relentless companion, its grip tightening until you can’t even remember your last meal. Water, your only steadfast ally, has kept you moving; without it, you’d have long since fallen.

You trudge along the desolate highway, the city a distant speck on the horizon behind you. You have no sense of how far you’ve traveled, only that the remnants of your home have shrunk to a mere dot in your vision. The road stretches endlessly ahead, a bleak reminder of the ground yet to cover.

Dizziness is your constant companion now, your throat as parched as the Sahara despite your efforts to hydrate. Water is scarce, and you’ve been rationing it for days. Hope feels like a distant memory, and though the elusive horizon you’ve been chasing for weeks appears closer, it still seems maddeningly out of reach.

Your body feels like lead, your feet swollen and throbbing with every step. 

Sleep is a distant memory, haunted away by visions of blood-streaked faces, final breaths, and echoing cries. Bloodshot eyes and a disheveled appearance mark your struggle; you’re still in your tattered nightdress, stained with blood and reeking of fear and sweat. 

No food, no shower, just the relentless march through this wasteland.

You’ve lost track of time—is it still September? 

The biting cold cuts through you, your torn and ruined shoes barely offering any protection. You trudge onward, desperate to find shelter, weary of hiding in the bushes from strangers who might wish you harm. Paranoia grips you; every rustle in the distance, every shadow makes you jump. Trust is a luxury you can’t afford. You feel like you’re unraveling, teetering on the edge of sanity.

When your eyes land on a solitary house down a side street off the main road, you can hardly believe it. You’re nowhere near your end goal, the neighboring city, yet here it is—a lonesome house in the middle of fucking nowhere. You chuckle, convinced you’ve lost your mind. Why would there be a house out here, untouched by the chaos? You blink repeatedly, but the house remains. Your feet carry you forward, despite your spinning head and the jumbled mess of thoughts in your mind.

The house, partially concealed by tall trees and lush bushes miraculously untouched by the war, seems like a relic from a forgotten world. An old jeep, battered but intact, sits beside the porch with its white picket fence. You approach cautiously, every step feeling surreal, and lift your hand to knock. Your bloody knuckles leave crimson smears on the pristine white door, a stark reminder of the nightmare you can’t escape.

You lose track of time standing there, every second stretching into an eternity, before the door is abruptly ripped open. You find yourself staring down the barrel of a rifle.

“Who are you?” a male voice demands, harsh and suspicious, but the words barely register. Your vision blurs, darkness encroaching, and the last thing you feel is the hard impact of the porch floorboards against your head as you collapse.

→ Do you want to join Yoongi on a quest for survival as the world crumbles around you? Let me know and I’ll tag you when it drops 💜

Also please let me know if you’re interested, excited about it— otherwise I’m probably just gonna post it on my ao3 only, lol. I’m scared 🫣

Read the second teaser + book cover [here]!

It's been posted!!!!

[rbr4c1ng]

Hii! I was wondering if you could maybe explain the bus bros fallout or p2p gate or pretty much all of the McLaughlin-Newgarden lore to me since I'm only getting in to IndyCar now and I want to be caught up before the 500. I understand this is a big ask but I've seen that youve posted about it and I just NEED to know. Any links to other pieces of lore would also be much apreciated. Completely understand if you don't want to write anything though so thank you so much I advance!! <3

YES ABSOLUTELY I WILL EXPLAIN! this is my special interest dw i could write an 18 page essay about their lore.

SO basically scott came into indycar from supercars in 2020-2021 ish and him a josef started getting along like super well, which is honestly a bit odd bc josef is known to not really let people get so close to him, so scotty is a bit of an outlier in that respect.

eventually! they make bus bros!!! wooooo everyone loves it etc etc they have fun making it…. until they don’t! leading up to their breakup there were QUITE a few clues that they knew it was gonna end in flames like scott talked about it on off track (see audio excerpt below) and on hot seats with hinch if i remember correctly?

there’s also a fair share of articles that mention it. they basically knew it was inevitable but i don’t think anyone thought it was gonna happen so quickly??

so then the winter break leading into the 2024 szn happened! this is about when i started getting really into bus bros and was honestly pretty present for some of this shit (i was at the daytona 24 and st pete so i’ve got some first hand evidence but we will get to that later)… anyways so the rumors start going around that bus bros is over around?? st pete time i think??? a little bit earlier. which is odd given that they seemed okay with each other at the daytona 24, even though i thought it was strange that they weren’t both on tower motorsports anymore cause josef switched to penske porsche but GENERALLY it seemed okay (although based on this pic idk their relationship seems a little charged atp but it’s all speculation really)

then after the rumors come out i think it was jenna fryer’s article that did it in? (idk it has a paywall on it for me right now and i don’t care enough to find it here but there’s definitely excerpts floating around) now i do recommend to take anything jenna fryer says with a grain of salt bc she is essentially a gossip columnist for all intents and purposes. but the article basically said that josef and scotty were done and scott wouldn’t answer any questions about it and was only saying that they’re fine or to ask josef about it (tea from todays 100 days to indy episode actually…). they promptly took down the bus bros merch site and have been relatively quiet since then. at st pete they talked on the podium and didn’t seem too bad but i’ve seen other clips where they won’t even sit next to each other or speak to each other so take that as you will. podiums are pretty much just publicity, cameras everywhere, you’d probably want to seem at least cordial with your teammate.

(pic 1 is mine, pic 2 is a pic of my tv from todays episode LMFAO)

so heres where most of the speculative stuff comes in. Josef dissolved his media company, unfollowed everyone, and cancelled bus bros leading into the 2024 season because he wanted to “get rid of distractions”, and really we could leave it at that, but i find it hard to believe that that’s the only thing that happened.

Josef is the dictionary definition of Penske Perfect, you won’t get any closer to it than him. he’s fucking OBSESSED with this idea of being perfect. perfect season, perfect body, perfect car, perfect team. obviously this isn’t feasible, but scotty seemed to have broken through that block in his little Penske Perfect brain and got him to LIGHTEN UP A BIT. and then the 2023 season happened. sure, josef won the indy 500 but it was one of his worst season finishes in a while and, to make matters worse, scott BEAT him. little scotty mac, supercars champion transplant from 2021 beat josef newgarden at his own fucking game after breaking down his walls and making him soft. i can see how that scared josef honestly. so he ended it. Scott doesn’t see things on a plane of winning/losing imo, everything is just experience for him. hell, he didn’t even know if he would end up in indycar and he sure as hell didn’t think he’d win races so soon AND beat his teammate. to josef, it’s JUST winning/losing. if he’s losing, he needs to be better. and he lost sight of that for the 2023 season. that’s why he had to come back and put an end to the shenanigans bc he knows scott makes him soft.

but that’s just my speculation!!!!! literally could just be nothing. maybe it is to josef, but i know for a FACT it isn’t to scott.

OH and with the p2pgate stuff! basically they had a component in their car that. was not supposed to be there! that prevented race control from turning off their push to pass like normal. (marshall pruitt has a rlly good article explaining it all here) and they were caught in long beach when race control forgot to turn on the push to pass during the sunday warm up and HMMMMM why do the penske cars still have it???? when has this happened before??? oh ok st pete! now they’re disqualified. josef used 9 seconds of p2p when it was not enabled and scotty only used 1.9 and will used none. so i’m led to believe that it was a josef-centered choice IF it was intentional to use the p2p when it was supposed to be inactive.

now josef really laid down the water works for that press conference at barber to the point that i was having a VERY hard time watching it. i felt bad for the guy. he seemed really fucking upset and i almost believe that it WASNT on purpose but. it’s just too good to be true right?

honestly i think this all could tie back to the downfall of bus bros in that scott maybe didn’t want to do the p2p thing but josef was willing to? and maybe that caused some sort of divide between them bc then again for josef it’s about Winning No Matter What, and yes scott wants to win but cheating isn’t the way for him. idk.

for more of their lore when they WERE friends, watch bus bros (duh), admit one, 100 days to indy, scott learns america: nashville, hot seats with hinch, and listen to scott’s episode on off track with hinch and rossi! also there are some very brief interactions between them on some older penske games videos before bus bros was even a thing but it’s not much. there are more but i can’t think of them rn…

sorry for rambling, if you have any more qs feel free to ask!!! i’m always available for brain picking :)

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight - Part 6: Running Up That Hill

📜The angst... continued... Though I loved hearing all your thoughts about who you guys disliked the most in the last chapter. I'd love to know what you think after this chapter. I've been warned this one is a bit... OUCHIE?!

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Verbal fights (some mean stuff is said here; there might be some gaslighting), so bullying, wildlife encounters, shitty family dynamics, and angst.

#7k

Part 5 | Masterlist | Part 7

Everyone scattered in the aftermath.

Even Jessica and Veronica were nowhere to be found as you made your escape. You hardly blamed them for it. If you had been in their shoes, witnessing that shit show, you would have shuttered hard from the waves of secondhand embarrassment rolling off all the tension.

But you couldn't feel secondhand embarrassment from it; you were the embarrassment. And all because of the same reason that got you to this point in your life. 

Jake Seresin just couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

You're slightly optimistic about where the group could have gone, even with how hurt you felt. You hoped no one had heard or seen any of it, and they already had gone off to do their own thing. Probably the more likely choice, they did and wanted to avoid the fallout altogether, just like certain people had been all along.

Then a third miserable thought entered your mind - they were all pissed with you, maybe even with Jake, and wanted you gone. You could hardly blame them for that, either. Maybe deep down, you wanted to leave too.

It's how you found yourself following the rocky path, perhaps even dangerous if one wasn't paying attention, up to the top of the waterfall instead. The trail was open for use, though, from appearance alone, it looked like only some people came up here looking for another photo opportunity for someone with a camera below.

Climbing up the slope, rather than glancing below to the water, you turned your head towards the river, winding through a stretch of forest. If you weren't so upset, you might have stopped to wonder if this was the scenery authors envisioned when writing fantasy books. This stretch of woods ranged along the top of this mountainside terrain, and perhaps if you ventured far enough, somewhere you'd find yourself standing on the edge of the world. 

You followed the river bank instead, even if you could call it that, your eyes so intently focused on the rushing water you had nothing but your thoughts to keep you company. 

Cora's face flashes through your mind first. A shameful, disappointed look after asking if you had set up any more pranks. You had no intention to fuck up what was supposed to be a happy memory for Nat, but Cora could have put two and two together and assumed you were taking it another step too far.

Grace and Bob? Even Mickey? Pity. You didn't need to think about them further; the guilt from their expressions alone would drive you right into the dirt.

Rueben and Javy, you couldn't say, but Jessica and Veronica, you pushed from your mind, even if they tried to claim a few of your brain cells. They'd be so laced in pure, self-centred bias that you'd even go so far as to classify any remark they might make in the style and prose of Regina George's Burn Book - Masters of passive aggressiveness but perfect at playing the victim when the situation turned against them, as demonstrated the night you injured your hand.

Even if they had no part in what unfolded, any defensive remark would only be met with another, perhaps twisted, sentence intended to put you down.

You might have laughed at the fact had you not felt like crying instead.

It was a few minutes before you found the fork in the river, and there was a solitary rock big enough and flat enough to sit upon. You went to it without haste, letting your feet guide you by their own accord. Being mindful of your hand as you hoisted yourself up and settled onto the smooth surface, you drew your knees up to your chest rather than let your legs hang over the side. You didn't even bother removing your backpack; the weight pulling against your back was a comfort and a burden.

Weakly wrapping your arms around your legs, you let your cheek rest on your kneecaps. What comfort your arms could give was meagre and weak, and even as you stared at a riffle in the water, the gentle trickle or the momentary peace did nothing to help you.

While there was a part of you wishing Jake had decided to leave altogether, to hike back to the entrance of the park, never to show his ugly no, good, untimely, "if not now, when" ass again, you know there was no point. It wouldn't fix what had happened, and it wouldn't make Nat feel any better either.

To say this wasn't the first time you found yourself in the middle of a fight would be an understatement. As friends usually do, you and Nat had your fair share of them over the years, though they always ended up with the two of you making up.

Always because someone caved - that someone being you - maybe that's one of the reasons why you wanted to seek her out.

But you knew your presence wouldn't be welcomed. No matter your explanation, she wouldn't want to hear it, shoving it off and turning you away, especially after the first-row seat to her rage.

Her words hurt you, but you still knew you owed it to her to apologize.

For letting your temper get the better of you, yelling at Jake? Yes.

For the aftermath of it ruining her proposal? Also, yes.

You would sooner run after her for that apology alone had not Bradley gone after her - rightly so. That was something you couldn't interrupt or insert yourself into, especially after a clusterfuck such as that.

The 'thing' building in the pit of your stomach against the white, nauseating feeling of guilt also made you rethink your decision to seek her out. A feeling that only arose from you replaying Nat's rage-filled words repeatedly in your head.

Jake could be right. It's looking like he had always been right.

You don't understand why now, of all times, you'd entertain the possibility of accepting Jake's words. It is something you want to remain a mystery, shoved deep down into the forgotten places of your mind.

It's an impossible feat.

Nat's rage, so hot and what you'd classify as spiteful, blew the doors open so wide there was no amount of pressure you could shove at the idea to make it disappear. You buried your face into your knees, eye sockets aching under the force, driving lights and shapes to appear behind your lids.

What if? What if I said this? What if I did this? What if I just walked away?

But something else shot forward in your mind, something you'd never thought you'd entertain.

What if I did confront Nat? Confront her for the lack of support throughout the entire trip. Not just in the heat of the moment, but truly laid bare that she purposely brought me on this trip without telling me Jake would be here too.

If you told her how you felt, how she had made you feel, would that have made a difference, too?

You think not. Even if you had a part to play in your feelings of isolation, there would have been a reason, an explanation, a word vomit of her hurt feelings without care for yours. You had never truly voiced your feelings before, always burying them under wit and sarcasm.

There was no chance you would now.

Ironic, isn't it? All that snark you've mustered up for Jake, for the two twins incarnate, and you still couldn't bring yourself to stand up for yourself and set a boundary with your 'friend.'

You supposed that's how it's always been, too.

Growing up in the shadow of expectations, your voice often ended up unheard. A middle child sandwiched between an older brother who followed in your father's footsteps and a younger sister brimming with self-selected compassion – and two parents in high-achieving roles.

In the rare instance that all five of you could actually sit down and have a family dinner together, conversations only seemed to revolve around that fact. They were limited to surgical techniques, case studies, medical research projects, and overseas missions.

Your father always sat at the same end of the dining room table. Dr. Xiaver Spencer, the authoritative head neurosurgeon, would often glance over the rim of his glasses, nodding approvingly at your brother's, Dr. Alex Spencer, recounts of complex brain surgeries. Your mother always claimed her spot at the other end. Dr. Heather Spencer, the CEO of a prestigious teaching and research-based hospital, would meticulously plan her next board meeting in between bites. 

With your brother between them on one side, Ella, your younger sister, would occupy the other. She often regaled the family with tales of distant lands and communities, places she had adventures to as a volunteer with UNICEF. If she wasn't home, she was overseas, helping build homes, handing out supplies, assisting medics, or studying.

Only 16, and she was off seeing the world, her pure joy of helping those in need making your paintings and designs at the local animal shelter quaint in comparison.

That left you and your seat at the table, never fixed or permanent, wedging between your brother, sister, mother and father in a different spot every time.

They made you feel quaint, too. Any attempt to share or talk about art, your art, or even the opportunities coming your way was always met with a "That's nice, dear" or "It's good to have hobbies."

Alex would laugh. Ella would remain silent. And nobody took you seriously enough when you started discussing it as an actual career.

Because the path you had chosen for yourself was less valuable than the stringent standards surrounding your family and what it meant to be a Spencer. Because pursuing a Fine Arts or even an Arts Illustration Degree was abhorrent when you could be working to save lives instead.

You might have taken to talking back and standing up for yourself in the early days. Each remark or attempt was followed with one of their own, so cutthroat it would have you sinking into the polished and unmarked leather of one of your mother's overly expensive dining room chairs. You would poke at the designer dish with the fancy silver fork through your tears, waiting till everyone else finished before taking off to your room and calling Aunt Viv.

Each time you did, the urge diminished, and soon, you didn't say anything unless you were spoken to. However, that was a rare instance indeed.

Why give your opinion? Why voice your thoughts when they weren't really warranted?

Correction - Wanted.

Aunt Viv, though. She... cared. Pure, unwavering support, no matter what you said, did or would think to do. She pushed you towards what you loved and stood by you like a rock when cash was tight, and scholarships weren't cutting it. She was unafraid to throw your name around in conversations. Not your full name, but "My niece Maeve does this," or "My niece is such a talented artist."

Who knew growing apples could have such a sway? You weren't sure where you'd be now if it weren't for her.

You knew you couldn't stay here on this rock forever. But you didn't know what else to do. Walk back with your head held high? Give Cora, Grace, or even Bob the compass and the map, and let them take over for the rest of the day? Hang out in the back of the group where you belonged, not saying a word to anyone else?

You could always leave.

The thought was tempting - walk away from it all. From Nat, from Jake, from the situation. You're surprised you didn't attempt to do it before. But leaving now felt like admitting defeat, and despite everything, you weren't ready to give up. Not yet.

Four-plus years, and it would have been a waste for nothing if you did. Cause if you walked away now, you'd never come back.

As you slowly slid from the rock, you decided on a plan. You'd walk back, find Nat to apologize, and attempt to mend whatever was left of the week. You and Nat had purposely planned more than one stop on this trip where Bradley could propose; he still could if things calmed down.

You followed the river back down the way you came, trying to figure out what to say, what to do, that would make the apology meaningful.

You would have to do it sooner than you thought. Cause the second you lifted your head at the sound of stones clacking hard against one another, Nat was striding towards you, completely lost in her thoughts.

Your initial thought would have been she was seeking you out had it not been for the devastated look on her face.

It left you frozen, unwilling to take a step further.  You had geared yourself up to swallow your hurt to apologize for a mess that hadn't been entirely yours, but standing here and now in front of her, you knew.

It wouldn't matter what you said. 

It's not a disappointment you see it reflected in her face. It's not love for a friend either or even dislike either. That would be giving her too much credit, and even after feeling sorry for what happened, acknowledging you owed her an apology, and burying that hurt aside, failed proposal or not, it comes rushing back inside. 

Even then, you still caved first.

"What can I say or do to make up for what just happened?" you manage to plead.

She scoffs in the face of your honest ask. "You really don't know?"

You shake your head hard. "No. No, I don't. Not for this. All I can do is ask and offer whatever apology I can that would truly make it up to you."

Nothing on Earth could have prepared you for something like this.

Her hand flew up, preventing you from saying another word. “Just save it,” she spat. “I don’t want to hear it, Maeve. Not now. Maybe not ever.” 

You gasped, and Nat's gaze hardened further, if possible.

 "You think you're the only one hurt by all this?" Her voice raised, bitter and cold.  "You think you're the only one with feelings? God, Midge, you can be so self-absorbed sometimes. It's always about you, isn't it?"

Your mouth dropped open like a fish. "You really think I wanted this," you emphasize by spreading your arms out wide, "To happen? Do you think I purposely wanted to fuck up your proposal just to get back at Jake? Come on, Nat!"

"Honestly?" she cries out. "I don't know!"

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "Wow. Okay then."  

"You've been so caught up in your own drama with hating Jake that you didn't even see what was happening right in front of you. How all of it has been affecting everyone else in the group?"

You don't mean for your anger to get the best of you or for it to be directed at Nat, but her remarks are so spiteful that you can't help the shrill laugh crawling up your throat.

"And you did? Like you haven't been the picture of understanding and support. You had to have seen the way Jessica and Veronica have been treating me. Where were you then?!"

Nat eyes you up and down like she's just caught you in a lie. "Funny you say that, 'cause they told me the same thing," she insinuates.  "How you've been less than welcoming. How you can't let things go. How you can't take a joke...."

Your jaw tightened, and the fact she was buying into their words and their stories without questioning it further stung harder than you wanted to believe. 

"So their behaviour is justified because I was standing up for myself? For things you never saw from the sound of it!?" 

And what does she do but shrug? The action is so dismissive it only fuels your frustration further. "You're not exactly innocent in all of this." 

You know it's not those two she's referring to. 

"What, Jake?" you mock. "You never told me Jake was coming on this trip. You've always known how I've felt about him, how it's always been between us, and you said nothing!"

"Because I thought you could handle it for one fucking week!"

"I leave a room the second I realize he's in it. I purposely go out of my way to avoid him. That's me fucking handling it! I avoid him at all costs because I can't stand to be in the same space as him without feeling like I will lose my mind. And you thought throwing us together was a good idea?!"

Nat didn't say anything, prompting you to continue. "A good friend tells her friend if the guy she hates is going on a week-long trip with them. A good friend acknowledges the hurt this person has caused..."

"A good friend explains why she dislikes a guy so much! She explains she lets them know...." Nat interrupts you, though you interrupt her right back.

"He's your fucking friend! I won't be the one to drive a wedge into a friend group that existed long before I ever came around!"

As if I could.

Nat's response was a mix of frustration and disbelief. "You just gave up! You just gave him the cold shoulder, and the next, you two were at each other's throats."

"And what?" you cried out.  "You just believed what Jessica and Veronica said about me? Without even asking my side? You know how they can be, Nat! you know!" 

Her eyes narrowed, and she moved closer, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. ”If you ever faced your problems instead of sprinting in the opposite direction, we wouldn't be in this mess. It's no wonder everything's falling apart around you."

Her words held you in a chokehold, a sharp intake of breath your only defence against the burning sting in your lungs. You remain silent, hurt flashing across your face as your eyes blur with unshed tears.

"Wow," you finally manage, voice croaking. "Kick me while I'm down. I'm sorry your proposal was ruined, Nat; I am. But that doesn't give you permission to be cruel." 

She turns her head away from you to stare at the water. You press on further. 

"Let's talk about this," you hold your arm up. "Or the fact I was the one hiding behind the bush first, not him. With my phone, trying to get photographs for you. Jake was the one who approached me. Who decided that was the best moment of all other times to start fucking with me. I might have pranked him earlier, but I wasn't about to do it during a moment such as that. I was the one telling him to back the fuck off. " 

Your eyes were welling up with tears, but you fought them back, refusing to let her see just how much she'd wounded you.

"Or let's talk about how Veronica gave me a snide remark about my art, and I stood up for myself, only to have her knock my brushes to the side. Or how they cornered Jake into pulling a prank that resulted in this?" you hold up your arm. 

She turns to you, her eyes harsh. "Like how you pranked Veronica?" 

You rolled your eyes. "It was meant for the Asshole, but you know what, I'm happy she got a little bit of Karma after everything you just admitted." 

Nat's face twisted, a mix of anger and something else you couldn't quite place. "You know what, Maeve? Maybe you're right. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. You and Jake, this trip, everything!" 

"And you think blaming me is going to make it better?"

Nat opened her mouth to retort but then closed it, pressing her lips into a thin line. The anger seemed to drain from her face momentarily, replaced by a weary resignation.

"Maybe I never should have invited you instead."

You bit your bottom lip, nodding more to yourself than to her. A sad noise crept up your throat, a laugh, though it was one more of resignation, maybe even ironic amusement. The thought comes rushing forward to sweep you off your feet like the first time you heard it.

Because Jake was right, after all.

Standing there wounded and silent, in the hardness of Nat's eyes, you conclude that perhaps you were never really a friend in the first place.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe you never should have. At least then, I wouldn't have spent years thinking we were actually friends after all."

Shaking your head, you turned away from her, the weight of everything pressing down on you. With each step you took, the sound of the river beside you grew louder, its rushing waters seeming to beckon you forward. The thought that if you could allow yourself to be swept away, to tumble over the waterfall at its end, flashed through your mind. That would be enough to wash away the pain. 

Nat sighed loudly from behind you and then called out after you, "Midge, stop!"

The fact she called you Midge, not Maeve, made your resolve burn brighter.

You twisted, continuing to walk backwards. You dramatically threw your hands out to the side as you sarcastically called out through your tears, "Why should I? I only think about myself, right? Make everything about me? Why quit now when I'm only following in the example you've so clearly set?"

You sniffed a breath, and then the remark slipped past your lips, the defence mechanism you've used in all other circumstances, finally landing a blow on someone you once considered a friend. You purposely stopped, raising your hands to clap against the thick fabric of the bandage on your arm.

"Let's give a round of applause and a standing ovation to the one and only Natasha Trace, the saint who never does anything wrong!" you dropped, bending yourself down into a dramatic bow. "Bravo for putting up with me for so long! What an Oscar-worthy performance, indeed!"

You didn't bother seeing her reaction, purposely straightening yourself to turn back to walk the path ahead. Honestly, you didn't want to see it either.

You simply had enough.

All those years you spent fighting against the words of one jock in your apartment bathroom because you didn't want to lose Nat as a friend - gone in minutes.  

Fighting your sobs, you tried to devise some plan, anything beyond your initial decision to leave as you stormed forward. Perhaps some other tourist below would take pity on your situation and let you tag along back to the park entrance. There was a bus station there. You could buy a ticket back into the city and then take the train home.

Either way, your decision to leave had been the obviously correct one. Nat made that so abundantly clear.

You could see the opening to the slope from a distance, and you took a moment to compose yourself. Wiping at the lingering tears on your face, you drew in sharp, equal breaths, hoping the fresh air would calm you down.  If you were about to ask a total stranger for help, you couldn't do it looking like this.

You tilted your head back on your shoulders, closing your eyes as you tried to feel the breeze on your face, seeking solace in its cool embrace. You let your hand rest on the nearby tree, trying to feel the sensation of its bark under the palm of your hand. Rolling your head forward, you shook your shoulders, straightening your posture before opening your eyes.

But the path ahead was no longer empty. And you caught sight of the last person you wanted to see, making their way up the hill. 

The universe was a fine-flecked bitch, so that it would seem. Because there was Jake, in all his glory, precariously walking up the slope. 

Seeing him sends the sensation of sheer ice shooting across your skin. And the hurt that had found a home inside your chest amplifies into an overwhelming urge to run. Run, and never look back. Run and escape.

Run. Run. Run. Run.

But is it from him? Or from his words and the truth in them, haunting, following you from that night? A truth that was proven only a mere few seconds ago.

Panic flutters in your chest at the thought he'd seen you, and you spin rapidly on your heel, hoping you could find another path or maybe even hide until he accomplished whatever he intended to do by coming up here.

But your bag snags on a branch, and you wince as the leaves rustle obnoxiously, knowing that if Jake hadn't seen you standing there before, he certainly would now.

Jake lifted his head at the sudden noise, only to see a quick flash of bright blue. Your sleeping bag curled on top of your backpack disappeared behind the thick trunk of a tree.

"Midge, wait!"

Like hell, I'd wait for you.

His voice spurs you on, taking off into the thick underbrush. Jake is undeterred in the slightest, taking off after you.  He wasn't far behind, having extended his pace to get to you quicker once he was up the side of the hill.  You were at a disadvantage; your short legs were no match for his long ones, and your heavy bag only weighed you down.

Your only hope would be to lose him in the bush, counting on his height, build, and weight even, to slow him down and watch where he was going. You were small, yes, but you could get through the gaps or the trees better than he ever could.

But Jake was uncaring if thorns were ripping at his jeans or if branches were smacking him in the face. He was so fucking stubborn, and his drive was absolute. If not to get you to talk, then not to let you disappear into the woods alone.

"Midge, stop running! I'm not going to hurt you!"

His voice came from everywhere and anywhere, seemingly bouncing off trees and down the paths they grew, a haunting echo that unleashed a fresh wave of tears. As you rounded the corner of a tree, you came across an intriguing root system twisting along the ground when your vision blurred.

You cried out when you tripped over a root. You caught yourself and, without stopping, lifted your arm so the bandage might catch the tears rushing down your face, feet continuing to step in the spaces between the roots blindly.

You did. You have been. And you probably still will.

The thought, bitter and resigned, fueled your steps farther and farther. The underbrush grabbed at your legs like hands pulling you down. Burs stuck to the fabric of your leggings and pricked at your skin. Branches whipped at your face and arms, leaving thin lines of red in their wake. But the thought of losing Jake, getting out of this park and never seeing him again urged you on.

But when you finally burst through the underbrush, expecting to find a trail, a slope down, or even a trail marker to tell you where to go, you were met with nothing of the sort. It was a dead end, a sheer cliff drop that had you skidding to a jarring halt against stone ground. Gravel slid beneath your feet, and your arms flailed wildly as you desperately tried to save your balance.

Your heart must have stopped briefly as you were forced to look down, confronting the edge of this unexpected cliff and the daunting drop below. While not lethal, a fall like this would only lead to injury, one you wouldn't tempt fate for.

A cold wave of realization washed over you as you finally regained your balance and looked around. The ledge you found yourself on was a narrow outcropping that offered no path forward, only a steep fall or retreat back through the bush toward Jake.

You were utterly, utterly trapped.

Twigs snapped under Jake's boot as he stepped out from behind the bush. His breath was laboured, audible harsh pants that had you reaching up to cup your hands over your ears before sliding them forward to cover your eyes.

I can't do this now. I can't do this now.

"Why do you always run from me?"

You couldn't think. Nothing was coming forth to save you now. No witty retort or clever line. No semblance of that resolve that rushed through your veins before. You were literally incapable of rescuing or being enough to save yourself from what was about to unfold.

So, your anger rose up to greet you like a long-lost friend instead. 

"You don't get to ask me that! Why do you even care?" The words erupted from you louder and more forceful than you'd care to admit, letting your hands fall from your face to smack against the side of your thighs. "What the fuck more could you possibly want from me, Jake?! What... what was the point of you chasing me? To corner me? To say more about me or remind me how much of a fuck up I really am? To drive the wedge, the fucking knife, deeper?"

Even as you yelled, you still couldn't face him.

"Everyone in this fucking camp hates me! In general. Do you think I don’t know what people say? How they look at me? And you… you’re no different. You’ve made your thoughts about me crystal clear from the second I met you." 

You stomped forward, pointing your finger into his chest. "We made a fucking deal not to ruin their week for them. We agreed. But you just had to cause shit. You just had to bang that pot; you just had to put away the coffee; you just had to think of the worst fucking shortcut; you just had to scream, bear. You just had to hurt me!" 

You were panting hard, thumping your finger into his chest. 

"I told you. You throw that shit at me. I'll throw that shit back. So thank you for that, because if your point in all of that was to end Nat and I's friendship and kick me out of the group, then congratulations. You succeed!" 

As he absorbed the full force of your words, the pure hurt pouring out of you, he seemed to deflate right before your eyes. For a moment, he stood there, his features softening and his usual cocky confidence nowhere in sight. Some might have even called it a genuine look of distress and confusion. 

Jake's voice was barely above a whisper when his shoulders slumped, and he asked defeatedly, "Why do you hate me so much, Midge? What did I do?"

In his honest green eyes, you could see the plea for an answer, any answer that might get you to open up to him and simply explain.

But you couldn't.

How could you explain the reason you yelled, shouted, snarked, and downright hated him was because he had been completely right? At the infamous Halloween party, you caught him about to hook up with that girl in your bathroom, uttering about your supposed friendship with Natasha?

How, since that moment, you had been running from him because it was the easier option? Better than giving yourself over to the possible truth - a truth you have seen time and time again. Because allowing yourself to feel hurt over catching him with another girl when he flirted and showed an interest in you for most of the night was better than possibly ruining the one friendship you had.

It shouldn't even matter right now. You already had. And just like that night, Jake had been right the first day by the lake. You did run away from your problems.

Because I don't know how to do anything else.

His question hung in the air, a plea for some understanding, some clue, some indication of how things could have gotten so bad between you.

A gasp tore from your throat instead.

Not because you were outwardly expressing your frustration and struggle in answering him, but for the fact you caught sight of a massive creature emerging from the treeline behind him.

Every emotion you had felt before vanished at the sight and was replaced with only two: panic and fear.

Your arm moved by its own accord, your hand latching onto Jake's sleeve. He tried to tug his arm back, but you wouldn't let him. You were near catatonic, your grip as strong as metal and your face pale as ice as you watched the approaching creature finally notice your presence. With its mouth hung open, the brown monster stood on its haunches to inquire if you were friend, foe, or its next meal.

Jake remained clueless to your reaction, frowning when he reached up to pry your hand away, unaware of the approaching threat. "What the fuck, Midge. Let me go!"

You couldn't. You couldn't let Jake go. You couldn't do anything except stutter out, "baaa baaa... Bear!"

How your legs hadn't given out yet, you had no clue.

"Really? Do you think I'm going to fall for that after what I did to you? No way. Stop changing the damn subject and give me an answer."

You're not sure how you managed it, but you attempted to hit him on his shoulder, nervous energy causing you to let up on the force behind such a move. You hadn't even felt the sting of your bandaged wrist, adrenaline masking any pain you might have felt, even if it was a rather flimsy attempt.

You still hadn't taken your eyes off the brown animal. It was massive, rugged, and looked like it had no protests about which one of you it would eat first. The scar across its back and face was another story altogether, too. Its teeth would have no problem tearing into Jake; you'd merely be a tiny slice of desert. Or the appetizer.

"Midge, stop and talk to me like a fucking adult!"

The fact he still didn't listen to you seemed to wake you out of your stupor.

"Turn the fuck around and look, you idiot!"

You aren't sure if your prompting would have gotten Jake to turn around and look. Because once you finally managed to gather the courage to draw your eyes away from the thing deciding who to go after first, Jake's face was frozen, contemplating if you were telling the truth.

The bear roared, shattering any doubt.

His reaction was instant, eyes flaring and mouth hanging slightly. He spun, shooting out his arm as his hand made contact with your hip, urging you behind him. Your hands scrambled for anything to grab onto as he turned, eventually settling on clutching the strap of Jake's backpack.

If you weren't so scared, you might have wondered why Jake was here, putting himself in harm's way for you. You might have even whipped out a sarcastic, "Yeah, that's right. Eat him first, you wild creature."

But either one of you had anywhere to go. And even if you could manage to distract it, there was no way either of you could outrun it.

"What are we going to do?" you shot out nervously.

"It's a bear, Midge!" Jake rushed out. "Just stay the fuck behind me."

You panicked and snapped back, "I saw it first! I know what a bear looks like!"

It bellowed, making Jake jolt backwards. You let out a cry, burying your face into the back of his massive bag.

The bear safety facts from the class the park rangers made you take before you ventured into the park are conveniently missing from your mind. All except the one you whisper harshly, "They tell you not to run."

Jake's voice cut through the tension. "Well, if we can't run, I guess now's a good time to see who can yell louder?"

"You really want to start a shouting match now?!"

"Were you paying any attention in that safety class? Running. No. Yelling. Yes. Surely, between the two of us, we can manage that!"

"I was doing that before it decided to show up! What makes you think that's not the reason it sought us out, dumbass?"

"Because I refuse to believe my sparkling personality is what attracts bears!"

You laughed sharply as the bear seemed to be weighing its options. You were not sure why it hadn't decided to charge the two of you yet, but you would have bet good money it had to do with the scars littered across its body.

"You called for one the other night, remember? Practically pulled a Dory!"

"Don't hate on a children's Icon, Midge!"

"I'm hating on you for what you did to me! They aren't mutually exclusive things!"

Jake took a careful step forward, testing the waters. You shuffled with him, eager to put space between you and the ledge. The creature tilted its head as if pressing its ear to the ground. Then, without warning, it let out a deep, resonating roar directly at the both of you. You buried your face into Jake's backpack again, trying not to scream.

"That was probably not one of my best ideas."

Your voice was muffled against the fabric. "Want me to make a list?"

Jake's laugh was nervous. "Only if I can make one for you."

The bear, seemingly unimpressed by your banter, shifted its weight, causing Jake and you to tense up again.

"Thinking yelling at a bear would actually work as a deterrent is on it."

"We're supposed to yell at it, not at each other."

"You think it can tell the difference?" you asked him, your voice pitchy. "It doesn't matter who or what we are yelling at."

Jake managed a strained smile.  "Common ground. Wow, we're practically bonding over here."

"Because nothing brings people closer like shared trauma," you snap, fear sharpening your words. "I'm tripping you first."

"I'm leaving you behind."

"I'll feed you to the bear myself."

"I run faster, scared than you do, mad."

"Hang on, let me find a stick and shove it up your ass."

Jake's eyebrows shot up. "Now there's the Midge I know."

Peering over Jake's arm, the bear made a sudden, decisive lunge forward with a single paw, claws extended, as if taunting its prey, waiting to see if the two of you would scramble. The move was unexpectedly aggressive, and it sent the two of you scrambling backwards in panic.

Neither of you realized how close to the cliff's edge you actually were. Only when your boots slid again on gravel, and you were brought back to a few moments ago when you nearly fell over yourself.

"Jake! The cliff!" you cried out, desperately trying to push on his backpack. You could feel it, one or maybe two more inches, and you'd be slipping off the edge.

"Hang on to me!"

"What do you think I'm doing?" You shot back, your words laced with adrenaline-fueled irritation and fear. However, you did find your grip miraculously tightening further to anchor yourself to him. But you couldn't with your injured hand, trying desperately to wind it through the straps across the bag instead.

Jake's mind flickered rapidly between the bear and the crackling stone beneath his feet. "Okay, new plan. We let it charge, and we dodge."

"And your an action movie junkie, that's never going to work!" you rushed out. 

"What else do we have, Midge?!"

Honestly? Nothing.

Jake widened his stance, almost as if he was sizing up the bear. You mirrored his movement as best you could, though it seemed futile with your smaller stature.

"When I move, you move!" Jake's voice was sharp, a clear command, and if this were any other circumstance, your instinctive retort would have been a defiant, "Don't tell me what to do!"

For this?

 Nope. Have at it, Jake. Maybe they'll let me torture you in hell.

It was stupid. Idiotic even. But what else could the two of you do? You were literally boxed in—no way to go.

Then something popped under your foot. And above the frantic beating of your heart, more menacing than the bear's growls, came a sickly sound that made your blood run cold.

An ominous crack.

What followed was worse - a series of smaller yet equally sinister sounds and the feeling of pieces of stone wobbling beneath your feet. You didn't dare look down, for you already knew.

The damn cliff was falling apart.

"Jake!"  Your voice was desperate, trying to pierce through his concentration. But he hadn't heard you, solely focused on when this bear would finally decide to leap. Or maybe he did and thought it was you being scared.

You shoved at his back, but he was like a brick wall, and you had nothing to ground yourself with.

You shouldn't have tried to push him, either. The second you tried to apply some force behind another shove, a chunk of stone came loose, allowing the ground beneath your feet to give away.

You dropped with a cry, legs knocking hard into the fragmented pieces of stone, and you found yourself dangling, held aloft solely by the one strap of Jake's backpack. The elastic straps around your wrist had already snapped against your bandage, freeing your arm, and it waved out, reaching for something that had never been there in the first place.

Jake fell backwards at the weight, causing him to step back at an angle. He called out your name and tried to keep his eyes on the bear while trying to reach for you blindly. You were trying to bring your legs up to a section of stone that looked stable enough to not give under pressure so you might be able to grab his hand. But with how heavy your pack was, you couldn't gain enough momentum to swing your leg over, no matter how hard you tried.

Suddenly, his hand gripped the bend of your elbow hard enough that you were sure there would be bruises if either of you managed to get out of this in one piece.

"Let go, Midge! I'll pull you up!"

"The bear!"

"It's still deciding which one of us to eat first!"

"Don't take your eyes off it!"

"What do you think I'm doing? Picking daisies?!"

You weren't sure what was louder—the bear's unsettling clacking or the ominous sounds of stone shifting ominously under Jake's weight. The truth was, you didn't want to find out.

You let go, entrusting your entire weight into Jake's hold, crying out when you dropped a few inches. But whether it was your cry or Jake needing to ensure your safety over his own, he dared to take his eyes off the bear to glance over his shoulder.

That was all it took for everything to happen all at once.

The brief shift in his gaze, the twist of his waist, and the slight lean were enough to unsettle the already compromised ground beneath him. With a heart-sinking crack, the remaining piece of the cliffside he was perched on gave way.

The bear roared, charging forward at the prospect of losing its meal.  And Jake lost his balance, using the momentum to twist his body to fully face you, some last-minute attempt to ensure your safety if he could, with a look of a thousand promises he could never make nor keep.

But you didn't see it. You were too busy watching the last crumbling stone disappear from underneath Jake's boots before gravity took over, cruel and unforgiving, as you finally started to fall.

For a breathless moment, you were suspended in the air, Jake's figure falling forward with you, nothing but white overcast clouds behind him. His hand was still gripping your elbow, and his eyes were wide, the realization of what was about to occur striking him hard.

With a final decisive tug born out of desperation, Jake pulled you close as he tumbled over, your face colliding with the solid wall of his chest. His other arm wrapped around your back, around your bag, his body twisting mid-air with you in his grasp, ensuring in the split second before gravity claimed its due, you were on top of him, not beneath.

Then, with a terrifying rush, the two of you fell, the ground rushing up to greet you both. Another roar of the bear above faded into the roar of the wind in your ears. With the pit forming in the pit of your stomach, above the wind, the scream you produced vibrating against Jake's chest was worse.

What happened after that, you couldn't recall.

The world didn't fade but snapped to black.

Had to throw the cliffhanger in there somewhere? 😂😅💛

Taglist:

@desert-fern @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @kmc1989 @fanficfandomlove @hookslove1592 @dakotakazansky

@teacupsandtopgun @lynnevanss @dizzybee03 @keyrani

@shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @dempy @stargazer-88 @alldaysdreamer @the-dark-and-mystery @bookchik15

@atarmychick007 @tinytotontheoversizedpony @buckysteveloki-me @wretchedmo

@redbarn1995 @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @yuckosworld @wren5650 @mrsevans90 @bellaireland1981 @tgmreader

@halibshepherd @essie1876 @formulafun @memoriesat30 @vicsnook @memoriesat30

Please let me know if Tumblr didn't notify you! I've been having issues with being tagged in things myself. If that is the case, I can work on trying to find an alternative.

Part 7 - My Blood - In-progress

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

I didn't spy this in your master list, but if you have written this please let me know.

Can you write up something about how the fallout 4 companions would react to a sole survivor that says weird stuff in their sleep?

Like, "He's here." And what not?

Cait:

• Usually just tries to ignore it, turning over and stealing the blankets as a way of trying to make you pay for waking her up. She hates getting woken up, if it’s over something ridiculous..she’s definitely not happy.

Curie:

•Takes it way too seriously. She knows better and will eventually learn better but the first few times she hears you speak, she is so confused and trying to figured out who “he” is and if she should get them some water or get you your gun..

Danse:

• Probably the most amused of all the companions. He doesn’t really sleep well anyways so truth be told, a bit of entertainment is happily welcomed. He thinks it’s silly and will just sit there, speaking lowly so you’ll respond to what he says but won’t wake up.

Deacon:

•Totally fucks with you. Regardless of what off topic, random thing come out of your mouth he’ll think of something to egg it on..usually resulting in you waking up and being extremely confused. He pretends nothing happened though…

Gage:

•Big meanie. He’ll tease you and start saying you should put a gag on to sleep- repeating whatever you said especially if it was embarrassing because it makes him have a good chuckle.

Hancock:

• Totally goes along with it, chuckling and probably huffing on a cigarette as he listens to whatever nonsense you have to say. He’s just happy you are resting well enough to even dream..he wouldn’t dare interrupt it for the world.

Macready:

•Would be the one to wake you up to tell you to shut up.

Maxson:

• He’s curious to say the least. He’s always interested in whatever is going on in your head but after hearing some of what your subconscious has to say..maybe he doesn’t want to know after all.

Nick:

•The one that shushes you gently, smiling as he calms you back down into a more restful sleep. He doesn’t care much for being woken up anyway..he doesn’t really need sleep.

Piper:

•Very angry sleeper..would not advise with her. She’ll probably kick you to make you be quiet. God help you if you snore.

Preston:

•Thinks it’s absolutely adorable but doesn’t put much credence to it. He knows you are just dreaming..

X6-88:

• Honestly thinks it’s some of the weirdest crap he has experienced. He hasn’t ever shared a room with anyone so he has no idea if this was the standard..does he do it too? Now he has to know…

[deaf-solitude]

In The Shadow of the Valley Pt. 1 (Squire!Thaddeus x Knight!Reader)

Pairing: Thaddeus x Knight!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings/Tags: Future graphic violence, injury and blood, no use of Y/N, placeholder knight name for the reader, mostly gender-neutral but reader is called “sir” at some points, the reader is called “my lord” a lot too, reader is also a bit of an asshole but dw they soften up

Summary: You’re a knight sworn to the Brotherhood of Steel, and you’ve just lost your asshole squire to a yao guai. Maybe it’s for the better, as you prefer to work alone anyway. Unfortunately, the Brotherhood thinks otherwise and quickly sends you a replacement. Turns out that the replacement is someone you never wished to meet again, but thankfully, he didn’t know it was you! Not yet, at least.

TDLR; What if Thaddeus was assigned to be your squire instead of Maximus’?

((A/N)) I have no defence for this. I’m so weak for pathetic men it's not even funny 😔 I’m planning on making this a 3 or 4 parter, so this parts a little on the shirt side for simplicity’s sake. Also I swear I’ve been trying to work on some Umbrella Academy stuff, but I got major writer's block for one of my requests that I was super excited to write. I’m hoping this little fallout tangent will kickstart my motivation. Anyway, enjoy my brain rot-induced fanfic bc there’s not enough appreciation for my boy Thaddeus lmao

You really wished you didn’t have to have a squire tagging along with you constantly. Okay, sure, you didn’t want to be carrying that overly-massive bag of shit yourself, but all they ever did was get in the way and die.

That’s how you found yourself in your current position, gripping your radio tightly between your metal-clad hands.

”No, I do not need another squire! Do not send one-“

”A replacement squire is currently on its way to you. Hold position.”

You groaned loudly as you released the call button, feeling inclined to rip the radio out of your suit and be done with the person on the other side of the transmission. You could do this all by yourself. There was no reason to waste yet another squire on a mission that could easily be completed by you and you alone.

Your last squire already had you walking a fine line between focusing on the mission and focusing on not smashing his head into a wall, though the yao guai he pissed off had beaten you to it. You looked back at the cave behind you, where your squire’s mauled body currently resided, deciding to move away from it in favour of getting yourself back on your intended path.

You didn’t stray too far from the general area, however, begrudgingly waiting for the Brotherhood transport to deliver your new squire. You leaned against a tree in wait, sighing heavily as you tilted your head back.

You were starting to regret ever joining this odd faction, though you supposed you didn’t have many other places to turn to as an abandoned child. Some knights had picked you up off the side of the road one day, where you were protecting an injured dog from a small band of rad roaches. You’d been caring for it for days, bringing it any food and water you could scavenge, and you weren’t going to give up on it so easily.

The makeshift spear you made with your small pocket knife tied around the end of a stick made them laugh, and they quickly shot the roaches before offering to take you back to the Brotherhood. They told you that you could help people just like you helped the dog. You, with your big heart and even bigger ambitions, agreed to go with them.

From that foggy interaction, you specifically remembered the look of the squires’ faces when you so readily agreed to tag along. They almost looked remorseful. You understood why now: the Brotherhood was not a very welcoming place to wannabe heroes. You understood that quickly.

…You never did see that dog again.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, maybe a half hour or so, before you could hear the familiar sound of an approaching vertibird. You sighed, pushing off of the tree and straightening up your stance. Here we fucking go.

You hardly had it in you to look up as your new squire rappelled down, the oversized bag he was carrying falling to the ground with a loud thump while he clumsily unhooked his harness.

He had already started talking before he even turned around, sending the rappel lines back up to the vertibird. “Oh, Knight Mire!” You barely registered the familiar voice before you saw his face, and it took everything in you not to scream or curse him out.

It was fucking Thaddeus.

He kept talking even as you froze in place, getting down on one knee and going on some spiel about how he was honoured to be in your charge, but it was drowned out by the ringing in your ears. You were going to strangle this man.

You and Thaddeus didn’t have the… best history. Arriving at the Brotherhood airbase around the same time some other kid—Maximus—did, you were both subject to his horrible bullying for a while. You were able to stand up to him after a while, giving Thaddeus a thorough beating for shoving you past your breaking point in your first few weeks there. You were pulled off of him by some officers and thoroughly scolded by Elder Quintus but returned to normal duties soon enough.

Thaddeus had enough of you after that, avoiding you at all costs as long as you weren’t near Maximus, who was now his group’s primary target. As nice as the younger kid was, he never had it in him to fight back against them. You decided to keep away from him regardless, not wanting to get caught up with those assholes again. Another infraction could’ve meant a much more severe punishment for you, and that was not something you were interested in.

“Uh, Knight Mire?” You were snapped out of your thoughts and looked down at Thaddeus, who was still kneeling and looking up at you with some expression of concern or anxiety. Did he not… recognize you? No, of course, he didn’t: he didn’t know your last name, and as far as he was aware, you were dead as soon as Quintus sent you off base years ago. Being sent off base almost always resulted in death.

Good. That was good.

”Rise, squire,” you commanded, your voice garbled by the voice modifier in your helmet. Thaddeus scrambled to his feet, his posture tense and his arms held closely to his sides. You inspected him a little longer, taking note of his skittish demeanour before brushing past him to resume travelling to your original destination.

“You’ll do,” you commented briefly as you passed him, hardly giving him a second glance to see if he was following.

Thaddeus was a bit taken aback by your words, pausing for a moment to mumble to himself: ”I’ll do…? Do for what?” He blinked and shook his head, rushing to fall in line behind you. He struggled to carry the pack that was nearly as big as he was, stumbling every couple of steps as he tried to balance himself.

”What do we have to do?” He questioned quickly, trying to keep pace with you. Great, still as talkative as he used to be. You could never forget his stupid rants, though they used to be more ill-intended, when he would muster up every possible insult and demeaning phrase he could to try and get you all upset. It worked against him, in the end.

You were tempted to pick up your pace and leave the fucker behind—there was no way he’d be able to keep up with you with that thing on his back—but you decided against it, lest the Brotherhood send you another squire.

”You just have to lug my shit around and try not to die,” you answered begrudgingly, “I will do everything else. That’s all you need to know.” You didn’t need another brainless squire getting in the way of your missions, so you hoped he’d take the hint and shut his mouth. But when did he ever?

”B-but the officers said you’d fill me in-”

You stopped suddenly, causing Thaddeus to run into you. You turned to glare at him the best you could from behind your helmet, but all Thaddeus could see was the intimidating blank stare of your metal face covering as you looked down at him.

“You will follow my command while we’re out in the Wasteland, or you will die. Is that clear?” You growled, taking a step towards Thaddeus while he took two steps back.

“Y-yes, my lord! I-I would never doubt you, m-my lord!” He responded enthusiastically, albeit nervously, eager to stay on your good side. That was going to get old fast. You turned back around to continue walking, slightly picking up your pace as Thaddeus hesitantly began following again.

”M-may I ask you something, though?”

You were unable to stop the sigh that came out of your mouth, the sound garbled and distorted coming out of your voice modifier. That made Thaddeus visibly shrink back, his mouth snapping shut at your disdain.

”Right, no! N-no time for talking. We-we have a mission to complete!” He exclaimed with a finger pointed in the air, unable to expel the shake in his voice from your previous order. Silence fell over the two of you for all of one minute before it was broken: “Do you think we’ll get in any fights out here?”

You were going to kill him, you were sure of it.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Ghouls and sex pollen: thoughts? Feelings? I’ve seen in some fics the concept of excessive rads gets a Ghoul going, but I’d love your expert opinion ;)

My feelings are as follows: sex pollen is one of my favorite tropes for sci-fi and I go a little nuts thinking about it, frankly. It's often heavily tinged with flavors of BDSM/primal play/self-denial/dubcon/etc., and I enjoy stuff in that vein. I'm also a real dupe for what is basically forced escalation of sexual tension between characters that don't wanna admit how badly they'd like to fuck one another, and the trope lends itself really nicely to exactly that.

I've seen similar fics to the ones you mentioned, and I've also seen fics that take a more traditional approach and have a more literal sex pollen/inhalable pheromone vehicle. Both work great for the canon and setting, in my opinion. Thanks to the likes of Vault-Tec, we have biological experiments gone horrifically awry in the vein of Vault 22 (a crop research vault whose researchers all fell victim to what is basically a "zombie ant"-style parasitic fungus that eventually coats your entire body) to lend credence to the possible existence of something like that. The fungus that took over Vault 22 also originally came as donated samples from the X-22 research lab/botanical garden at Big MT. If you don't know anything about the horny, intellectually overstimulated little freaks featured in Old World Blues, well...let's just say that something like a "sex pollen" being created by someone there, purposefully or through acts of unbelievable incompetence, isn't outside the realm of possibility.

However, literal sex pollen is a more broadly-applicable trope, and it's for that reason that I also really like the excessive rads/radstorm idea. Trust me, I know that in the incredibly niche terms of "Fallout ghoul fucker fanfiction tropes", the idea that high radiation situations are basically the same thing, but for ghouls, is as overdone as 70's pornos with plots about fucking pizza delivery guys or whatever. But, like...I will firmly argue that it's that popular for multiple reasons. Those reasons are that it's fun to read, fun to write, and a pretty canon-appropriate way to provide that sort of instantaneous, almost insurmountable sexual tension that I was talking about before.

As I sort of touched on the other day in my little drabble about sex with glowing ones, I think radiation is not only something that rapidly heals ghouls, but something that actively re-energizes them when they're exposed to higher amounts of it. Maybe it even makes them a little stronger, a little faster. A lot hornier.

To me, though, it's less like the overwhelming, visceral, "I need to fuck something now or I'm seriously gonna fall over dead" sort of horny that you often see in sex pollen fiction. In my mind, it's almost more of an ecstasy-style euphoria that makes you feel so good and alive that all you wanna do is sink yourself into the person next to you. Lots of energy, shared good feelings with others who can feel what you're feeling. It lends itself heavily to things getting physical, and quickly.

And not just because the increased rads in the atmosphere would recharge them, either. I imagine things like radstorms, or spending time in a particularly irradiated location, provide a fairly significant analgesic effect to ghouls who suffer from chronic pain in some form, of which I imagine there are a great many. More who do than don't, I'd be willing to bet. Ghoulification is hell on the body, and that's before you factor in how many of these people have stuck around to put wear and tear on their bodies far past the typical human life span. There's a reason characters like Raul complain about their joints all the time! Pain is exhausting, and even those with high sex drives can find themselves hampered if they're always hurting and tired. Take away the hurt, provide some energy, and don't be shocked at what happens!

I will say, though, that I would certainly leave room for the possibility that some ghouls would have more of a "take me into a high-rad area or a storm and I'm gonna have to carry you out, because you won't be able to walk once I'm finished with you" sort of reaction to these situations. Factors like a lack of overall daily pain, higher than average sex drive, a particularly sadistic or aggressive nature, or already present intoxication would increase the odds. In cases like that, extra precaution would need to be taken so that they didn't accidentally do you serious harm; increased inhibition means loss of control, and the average ghoul is already strong enough to hurt you if they want to without extra radiation fueling them.

Plus, you know, there's the matter of how the increased rads will impact you without your partner even being factored in. I hope you're stocked up to your eyeballs in Radaway!

[dalilacherie]

hiiiiii idk if ur still taking requests but if u are could u pls write a dally x male reader where the readers a curtis and dally and reader have been together for like a while but then somehow darry catches them together and so now they are dealing with the fallout of all that (i am so so sorry if that made no sense 😭)

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭

[𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: So uh... I'm alive!! 🥳 I have nothing to say for myself except that I'm lazy💀 anyways enjoy this story.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: idk- more than 1,000

I’m sittin’ on the old couch in the Curtis livin’ room, feet up on the coffee table, cigarette danglin’ between my lips. It’s quiet. The kind of quiet you don’t get too often around here. The boys are all out. Two-Bit, Johnny, and Pony are at the movies, and Darry, Steve, and Soda are at work. That just leaves me and Y/N.

"Don’t ya get bored when it’s this quiet?" Y/N asked, lookin' at me with those eyes of his that I never could resist. He always had a way of seein' right through me, even when I was tryin' to act tough.

I shrugged. "Nah, quiet’s good sometimes. Can think better without all that noise. Don’t you like it?"

He smiled, that small, easy smile he had that could make me feel like maybe not everything in this world was as screwed up as it seemed. "Yeah, I like it. It’s nice just bein' with you."

I didn’t say nothin' to that. I wasn’t good at the mushy stuff, never was. I’d rather just show him what I felt, not say it. So I reached over and ruffled his hair, messin' it up like I knew he hated, just to see him annoyed. He swatted my hand away, but he was grinnin'.

"Quit it, Dal. I just fixed it."

"Too bad," I said, leanin' back into the couch, stretchin' my legs out. "You look better with it all messed up, anyway.”

I glance over at him, sittin’ close by, almost leanin’ into me. He’s been my guy for a while now, not that we make a big show of it or nothin’. He’s just always been there, and I guess I’ve always been here too, though I ain’t one to stick around for much.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?” I ask, flickin’ some ash into the ashtray. It’s one of those moments where I ain’t thinkin’ too much about what’s out there—what kinda trouble I could be gettin’ into. ‘Cause right now, I got what I need right here.

He shrugs a bit, like he does when he ain’t sure what to say. “Nothin’ much. Just… you.”

I smirk at that, pullin’ the cigarette from my mouth and blowin’ the smoke up toward the ceilin’. “Yeah? What ‘bout me?”

He turns his head, lookin’ me dead in the eyes. He’s always had this way of lookin’ at me, like he’s seein’ somethin’ more than just a no-good hood. Maybe he is, I dunno.

“I dunno,” he says, leanin’ back a little. “Just… how you’re always here, even when you say you’re not gonna be.”

“Guess I ain’t as bad as I like to think I am,” I mutter, leanin’ back against the cushions. I’m still gettin’ used to this whole thing, bein’ with someone who actually gives a damn. Most folks don’t. And hell, I’m used to it. Grew up that way, always lookin’ out for myself, ‘cause who else was gonna do it? But Y/N, he’s different. He makes me feel like maybe there’s somethin’ more out there than just fights and booze and dodgin’ the fuzz.

He shifts a bit closer, till his shoulder’s brushin’ against mine. He’s warm, real warm, and it’s kinda nice just sittin’ here with him, not havin’ to say nothin’ or do nothin’ to prove myself.

“Ya know,” I say, my voice a little quieter, “I ain’t used to this. Just sittin’ around, not doin’ nothin’. It’s kinda nice, though.”

He smiles, that soft, easy smile he’s always got, and it makes me feel somethin’ weird, like maybe I’m worth somethin’ more than just a cheap thrill or a quick fight. “Yeah, it is,” he agrees, settlin’ in closer, his head restin’ on my shoulder. “We don’t get much time like this.”

“Nah, we don’t,” I say, takin’ another drag off my cigarette before snuffin’ it out in the ashtray. I’m quiet for a minute, just listenin’ to him breathin’, the way his chest rises and falls against mine.

“I like bein’ with you, Y/N,” I say, the words comin’ out rougher than I meant ‘em to. I ain’t good at sayin’ stuff like this, but he deserves to hear it.

He looks up at me, those eyes of his all soft and understandin’. “I like bein’ with you too, Dal,” he says, reachin’ up to brush a hand through my hair, somethin’ he does when he thinks I’m not payin’ attention. But I always notice, even if I don’t say nothin’. “Payback” as he calls it.

“Yeah?” I say, leanin’ into his touch, feelin’ more relaxed than I have in a long time. “Glad to hear it, ‘cause I don’t plan on goin’ nowhere.”

He chuckles a bit, the sound low and warm, and it makes me feel somethin’ in my chest, somethin’ I don’t feel too often. “I didn’t think you would,” he says, settlin’ against me.

We sit there like that for a while, just enjoyin’ the quiet, enjoyin’ each other. And for once, I ain’t thinkin’ about what’s comin’ next, or what kinda trouble’s waitin’ for me out there. All I care about is right here, right now, with Y/N.

After a while, I reach over and grab the remote, flickin’ on the TV. There ain’t nothin’ good on, but I don’t care. It’s just background noise, somethin’ to fill the space while we sit here together. He shifts a bit, gettin’ more comfortable, and I pull him in closer, holdin’ him tight against me.

“Dal?” he mumbles after a while, his voice real soft, almost like he’s afraid to say what’s on his mind.

“Hm?” I reply, lookin’ down at him.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, his eyes meetin’ mine. “I know you got other places you could be, but… I’m glad you’re here with me.”

"You think they’ll be back soon?" Y/N asked.

I shrugged again, not really carin'. "Probably not for a while. They’re prob'ly goofin' off somewhere."

He nodded, lookin' thoughtful. Then he looked to me, somethin' serious in his eyes. "You know, Dal, you don’t always have to act so tough."

I stiffened. "What’re you talkin' about? I ain’t actin'. I am tough."

He gave me that look again, the one that said he wasn’t buyin' my bull. "I know you are. But you don’t have to be all the time, not with me."

I didn’t know what to say to that. He was right, and I hated that he was right, but I didn’t know how to be any other way. The streets didn’t teach you how to be soft, didn’t teach you how to let your guard down. But here I was, doin' just that with him, and it might've scared me more than any fight ever did.

Instead of sayin' anything, I just pulled him closer, wrappin' my arm around his shoulders. He rested his head on my chest, and I could feel his breath against my neck. It was real nice, feelin' like we didn’t have to say nothin' to understand each other. We just fit, like two pieces of a puzzle that made sense when they were together.

"Dally?" he murmured after a while.

"Yeah?" I asked, my voice a little rougher than I meant it to be.

"You ever think about what it’d be like if we didn’t have to hide this? If everyone knew and didn’t care?"

I tensed up at that, the thought of it makin' me uneasy. "Don’t see much point in thinkin' 'bout it. Ain’t never gonna happen, Y/N. People don’t get us, don’t get me. They wouldn’t understand."

He was quiet for a bit, then he sighed. "I know. I just wish…"

I tightened my grip on him, hating how small his voice sounded. "Don’t worry 'bout it, alright? We’re good, just like this. Don’t need anyone else to get it long as we do."

He nodded against my chest, and I could feel him relaxin' again. We stayed like that for a long time, neither of us sayin' much, just enjoyin' bein' together without havin' to worry 'bout what anyone else thought.

I was startin’ to think we might actually get a whole night to ourselves. That was somethin’ that didn’t happen often, so I was gonna soak it up while I could. Y/N was leanin’ against me, his head on my chest, his breathin’ nice and steady. I had my arm wrapped around him, holdin’ him close, and I felt like maybe, just maybe, things were alright.

Then, the door creaked open.

I heard it before I saw him. The heavy footsteps, the way the air seemed to shift when he was around. I didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

Darry Curtis.

He walked in like he owned the place, which I guess he did in a way, since it was his house and all. But right now, I wasn’t in the mood for him.

I glanced up, seein’ that look on his face. That one that said he wasn’t too pleased with what he was seein’. His brows were drawn together, his mouth set in a hard line, and his eyes? They were locked right on me.

“What the hell’s goin’ on here?” Darry asked, his voice low and controlled, but I could hear the edge to it. The kind that meant he was tryin’ real hard not to blow up.

“Nothin’,” I said, keepin’ my voice as casual as I could. I wasn’t gonna let him know he was gettin’ to me. “Just hangin’ out.”

“Doesn’t look like nothin’ to me,” he said, his eyes shiftin’ to Y/N, who was still leanin’ against me. I could feel Y/N tense up, probably knowin’ this was about to get ugly.

Darry crossed his arms over his chest, starin’ us down. “Y/N, mind explainin’ why you’re all over him like that?”

Y/N sat up a little, his face goin’ red. “We were just—”

“I know what you were doin’,” Darry cut him off, his voice sharper now. “And I don’t like it.”

I could feel my temper startin’ to rise. I wasn’t about to let Darry talk to him like that, not when he wasn’t doin’ nothin’ wrong. “Back off, Darry,” I said, my voice low. “Ain’t your business.”

Darry’s eyes snapped to mine, and for a second, I thought he might actually take a swing at me. He looked like he wanted to, at least. “It is my business,” he shot back, takin’ a step closer. “Y/N’s my kid brother. I ain’t lettin’ you screw him up like you screw up everything else.”

That stung more than I wanted to admit. I knew what folks thought of me. Hell, I didn’t care most of the time. But hearin’ it from Darry, with Y/N right there? That was a different story.

Y/N jumped to my defense before I could even say anythin’. “Darry, stop! You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“The hell I don’t!” Darry snapped, his eyes still locked on me. “I know exactly what I’m talkin’ about. Dallas Winston ain’t no good, Y/N. He’s a player, and he don’t give a damn ‘bout nothin’ but himself.”

“That ain’t true,” Y/N said, his voice firm, standin’ his ground. “Dally cares about me.”

Darry looked at him like he couldn’t believe what he was hearin’. “He might say he does now, but what happens when he gets bored? When he moves on to the next thing that catches his eye? You’re gonna be the one left pickin’ up the pieces.”

That was it. I couldn’t just sit there and let Darry tear me down like that, not in front of Y/N. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” I said, my voice steady, but there was a hard edge to it now. “I’m with him ‘cause I wanna be. Ain’t nobody gonna change that.”

Darry didn’t look convinced. “Yeah? We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Before I could say anythin’ else, Darry walked right over and plopped himself down between us on the couch, forcin’ me to scoot over. I could feel the heat risin’ in my face, my hands clenchin’ into fists. He knew what he was doin’. He was tryin’ to push me out, make it clear that Y/N was off-limits.

Y/N looked like he didn’t know what to do, caught in the middle of all this. He glanced over at me, his eyes filled with worry, but I gave him a small nod, tryin’ to let him know it was alright. But it wasn’t alright. Not by a long shot.

I didn’t like not bein’ able to touch him, not after we’d just been sittin’ so close, all comfortable and quiet. And now Darry was actin’ like he had to play the damn protector, like Y/N was some kid who couldn’t make his own choices.

“So, what’re we watchin’?” Darry asked, like nothin’ had just gone down. He reached for the remote, flickin’ through the channels.

Y/N was quiet, too quiet, and I could see how much this was botherin’ him. But what was I supposed to do? Darry wasn’t gonna listen to me, no matter what I said. And I didn’t wanna make things worse for Y/N, not when he was already caught in the middle of this mess.

But I wasn’t about to back down, either. I wasn’t gonna let Darry think he could just walk all over me, or over what Y/N and I had. So, I leaned back, crossin’ my arms over my chest, and glared at the TV. I wasn’t gonna give Darry the satisfaction of seein’ me lose my cool. But I wasn’t happy, and I knew Y/N could feel it too.

For a while, we just sat there in awkward silence, the TV flashin’ random shows that none of us were really watchin’. Every now and then, Darry would glance over at me, like he was checkin’ to see if I was gonna do somethin’. But I just sat there, my jaw clenched, tryin’ to keep it together.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up, shovin’ my hands in my pockets, and looked down at Darry. “I’m gonna head out,” I said, my voice tight. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”

Darry just looked at me, not sayin’ anythin’. But there was a challenge in his eyes, like he was waitin’ to see what I’d do next. But I wasn’t gonna give him the satisfaction of seein’ me snap. I wasn’t gonna let him win.

I glanced over at Y/N, who looked up at me with those eyes that always seemed to know what I was thinkin’. I gave him a small nod, lettin’ him know it was alright, even if it didn’t feel that way.

[nikethestatue]

I finished ACOSF a few months ago and seeing this fandom has been so confusing to say the very least. Nesta is my favorite character and I loved the Valkyries but .... I just don't see this Gwynriel ship happening. I think they'd be cute together and I wouldn't be opposed to it obviously - but I just don't see it happening given where we left off in ACOSF. I also am confused about the personality difference in Gwyn & Elain and Azriel.

Gwyn didn't even kill anyone in the BR and was knocked out and carried to the top - so why are people acting like she is some great warrior and will destroy legions of armies and lead the Illyrians into war!? She saw a mini Pegasus at a sleepover and through it was cute and now all of a sudden people think she's going to ride one in the skies while she paints Prythian with the blood of her enemies? What enemies even?? She's not tied to any of the IC's plot?

Elain didn't really stand out to me in ACOSF, which makes sense because it was NESTA's story. I didn't really have an opinion on her and Azriel or her and Lucien. I get that Lucien makes her uncomfortable but SJM writes her pairings that way it seems so I could see them ending up together tbh. But then I read the BC and - wtf ?? I am firmly team Elriel now because what do you mean Azriel's out here dreaming about how elain TASTES . I see you freaky azriel 👀 goddamn I Definitely was not expecting that from him but now that I have seen it I can't go back. There's no way SJM wrote that and plans on making Elain then end up with Lucien. Like I thought it would be fine but after that BC - there's no going back.

Either way - it's weird that people have such a strong opinion on Azriel and Elain because I think combined, they've said maybe like 200 words total? I like the idea of them but we dont know much about them? Why are people forming such harsh steadfast opinions on what either of them want or need or desire when we don't know much of anything? They're both kind of mysterious.

Idk I feel like I just missed a book with how strongly everyone is arguing about these guys.

Elain - had some badass moments but barely mentioned on the page in ACOSF

Azriel - even more mysterious than Elain but the dry humor makes up for it.

Lucien - he's not been in the past 2 books?

Gwyn - is great but not the Aelin type of warrior people online are making her out to be

Where is all this coming from I am very confused??

Honestly, most of this is coming from TikTok, Headcanons and fan art on Insta.

You have NO IDEA how many asks i've received over the years with people saying the same thing 'i saw so many Gwynriel arts on Insta and I thought that there will be some amazing romance in ACOSF. THEN, I read the book. And I kept waiting for something to happen and nothing ever did."

I think the key word for a lot of GAs is 'then'--they first saw the art, watched the tiktoks, got themselves all jacked up on theories and headcanons, and then, THEN they read the book. So now, the problem is that they have a hard time separating reality/canon from all that stuff that brought them to the fandom in the first place.

They are digging their heels and arguing that it WILL HAPPEN!!! absolutely will. Gwyn will become a great warrior and will ride a Pegasus into battles. Azriel will fall madly in love with her. They'll have kinky sex and she'll 'heal' him.

ALL of it comes from fan art. Literally, look at 99% of Gwynriel fan art and it's all 'fake'--imagined scenes that never happened.

I think many of them either left the fandom or can't accept that they've been duped and are incorrect in their assumptions.

It will be interesting to see what the fallout will be once the book is released.

[griffinisgae]

Hello! I am here to tell you I am obsessed with My Thesis is a Demigod. Thank you so much for giving us fun fluffy but also feelsy AU food with these goobers!!! (with bonus Shadowheart and Lae fyeah)

I was wondering if you had any other fic plans you maybe wanted to share or tease (yes I am FISHING) or if you had any recs you wanted to shout out that would be super cool aswell! But thank you in any case and keep on truckin!

Oh my god! you're so kind and I'm so glad you're enjoying! :D this made my evening hehe

i am not sure what to "tease" per se, but I have so many ideas I want to write! (I will soon have more time to get them out hehe) and also ton of AUs I have been pondering (fallout, cyberpunk, high fantasy, you name it, I love to daydream all of em), also a couple of which are inspired by super cool art from @demytrixi!

This ask is my dream come true because I also get to spew some of the fics I've been re-reading on the regular (these are by no means all my faves, I have so many faves! these ones were just to hand :D)

Keepers of old, keep us from cold - smutty, and so good with a nice amount of fluff and feels!

Ardent Devotion - because i adore the concept of Isobel being one wine glass deep into her confession to Aylin, and Aylin being an oblivious goof that was scared to impose her feelings onto her

dying to be born again - because I love autopsy scars isobel. also honestly anything else by redledgers! shower them with love here: @buckysleftarm

Moon-chosen, Moon-guided  - recently finished!! aylin/isobel goodness including dealing with trauma, fluff, and much wonderful stuff. amazing read. also anything by theblindbandit! shower them with love here: @oathkeeper-of-tarth

Smitten by Moonlight - i am eating this up every Friday when the author usually uploads! ongoing pre-canon cuties

A Taste of Heaven (In a Confessional Booth) - ... no comment but I didn't think church smut was what I needed (it is)

anyone who sees this feel free to add more to the list, there are so many fics worthy of recognition!

[tadbitsketch]

I haven't done one of these in forever but welcome back to Sketch Rambles About MCSM Stuff at an Unreasonable Hour of the Night 🎉🎉🎉

Tonight, I'm gonna discuss one of my favorite songs from the Minecraft: Story Mode OST, "Redstone Baby," and the potential lore that it holds. And why that's very Sorengaard related.

Disclaimer: this is me interpreting silly block people. Unless otherwise stated (or in the game), it ain't actually canon. Also, I am a teenage girl. I am not versed very well in the specifics of how music theory works and how it's used in media. Also also, I wrote most of this like two months ago and completely forgot about it.

(In case you needed a reminder of how it sounds)

This song appears twice in the season 1 episode 3: when you arrive in Soren's lab area, and again in the end credits. It can also be heard through the closed secret entrance wall in the Wool World™, and it gradually becomes clearer as you approach the door to Soren's lab, where a music disc is playing the song inside.

The instrumentation of "Redstone Baby" consists of guitar, piano, and violin. It feels comforting and cozy, whilst also giving a sad, longing sort of vibe. According to a comment written 6 years ago by Antimo on the linked video, they were going for a sorta "Fallout: New Vegas" vibe when they wrote it. The song holds an air of nostalgia, of better times. An idealized dream of how the world could be.

To get to the point: it's cute, it's cozy, and it's a love song in a game where they weren't allowed to explicitly write any canon ships (if I'm remembering correctly). Also one of the few songs in this game to be given lyrics. So, of course, we're gonna talk about this. Or rather I'm gonna write about it and you're gonna read it.

The lyrics go as follows:

In a marshmallow world, you're my sweetheart.

In a marshmallow world, you're my sweetheart.

You're the bed to my rock,

The flint to my steel.

My redstone baby doll...

My redstone baby doll.

(music)

In a marshmallow world, you're my sweetheart.

In a marshmallow world, you're my sweetheart.

My sugar baby...

aaaah ladada, awoah...

The lyrics are pretty strange, right? It seems nonsensical at first, but I (and many others) believe that it has more meaning than meets the eye.

This is a love song addressed to a someone proficient with redstone. Funnily enough, Soren's old friend group did have one of those. A brilliant Redstone Engineer: Ellegaard. And quite interestingly, these two were pretty close, as is said multiple times in canon. I think Magnus mentions their little "Nerd Club," in episode 3 at some point. Another fact to back me up on this: Soren calls the song "Symphony in E" in-game on the little radio-disk-program-thing.

And for whatever reason, Soren and Ellegaard didn't stay close or end up together. There's not really a way to know for certain what went down between them. All we do know is that Soren wishes it was different.

The "marshmallow world" that is talked about in the song is Soren's perfect world. It's safe, sweet, and fluffy. I am of the opinion that it could possibly be an indirect reference to the wool world that Soren built. It's bright. It's safe. No monsters can get him there. He can just build things and be happy. In a perfect, marshmallow world, Ellegaard is with Soren.

The metaphors Soren uses here, "the bed to my rock, the flint to my steel," they're both iconic, inseparable duos: bedrock, and flint and steel. In Minecraft, bedrock is the unbreakable foundation beneath all else in the Overworld. Flint and steel is used to set things on fire, and is most often used to light Nether portals, which is way less symbolic (unless someone can find something? maybe the whole flaming heart being a metaphor for love thing?) but still iconic and the phrase has a very nice rhythm to it.

When we first hear the song, it feels like normal wishful thinking. It's more just fluff and poetry than full-on wants and desires.

But when we hear it in the end credits of episode 3... We just saw someone die after sacrificing their safety for Jesse's. The monster that they died to help kill isn't even dead. Someone we thought was dead is actually alive and doesn't remember anything. It's loud, dark, and burning. A sickening storm of death and destruction. Anything but the marshmallow world.

Without considering which of the two died, this song is already quite jarring in comparison to what was just witnessed. This "marshmallow world" that seemed somewhat close just a moment ago now feels implausible, and thus it'd be worth so much more if it were real.

I will never not love when something in a piece of media is treated as a good sign or motif or something and then it gets recontextualized and hurts ya right in the feels.

And with Redstone Baby combined with Ellegaard dying, it's just that extra brutal.

Because now it's not just, "in a perfect world, we'd be together." It's "in a perfect world, you wouldn't be dead, and we'd be together."

If only Soren wasn't so much of a coward. How differently things could've gone.

[minuteminx]

My biggest frustration as a Preston fan in the Fallout 4 fandom is not actually the people who make hate content (that’s annoying and awful but my block button is a pretty great balm for that); no, it’s actually the multitude of people who “would like him if…” “would have been more willing to spend time with him if…”

Call me crazy, but aside from the annoying radiant quest mechanic (which can be circumvented if you 1. Listen to Radio Freedom everyone once and a while, 2. Don’t do the quests you’re assigned bc you’ll only get a couple at a time before it stops, and 3. Make sure your settlements are in good shape. You have so much less to do if you settlements are taken care of on the front end. If they have a high enough defense and they’re under attack? THEY DEFEND THEMSELVES. Imagine that. Anyway) I actually LIKE how the game handles Preston and the MM.

Maybe it’s just me coming from Dragon Age fandom, where in the very first game, my fresh out-out-of-orientation Grey Warden is asked to take the lead by someone with more seniority because the more senior person is riddled with grief, survivor’s guilt, and insecurity that they’d be able to do a good job… sound familiar? Preston asks you to be the General because after everything he has been through, he’s not ready to fill that role. He can’t stomach the responsibility because he is afraid he’ll mess it up, that he’ll let people down.

But the thing is, he still does the General Stuff. He is the one organizing, communicating with settlements, strategizing, expanding, recruiting, giving orders, etcetera, etcetera. The sole who agrees to be the General is honestly just a figurehead for the settlers and a sounding board for Preston’s ideas. At the end of the day it is not the Sole Survivor who settlers run to, excited to thank them for all their help and make donations. It’s not the Sole Survivor who is viewed as the face of the MM. It’s Preston.

Do I wish the game came full circle and acknowledged that? Oh yeah I do, which is why I’m writing fanfic. I think that Preston deserved a personal quest where you retake Quincy from the Gunners and get revenge on Clint. I think the end of his story should be the Sole Survivor acknowledging that he’s been the General the entire time and bequeathing that title back to him now that he is recovering and ready for it. That’s really all I would have needed to feel like his story was complete.

As is, I enjoy traveling with Preston in game. He is refreshing. He has a lot of hopeful commentary about the Commonwealth, a lot of sarcasm and dry humor, and it’s great. He actually gives you less quests when he’s traveling with you as a companion, too.

His romance is lovely. It is the only one with some additional dialogue if you do the flirts, successfully initiate, then back out when he asks if you’re sure. He will come back later and say “listen, I know last time we talked, you said you weren’t ready to move on, but it’s been a while now and I still feel the same about you. I was wondering if you thought you might feel the same about me.” He also is genuinely so happy and excited to be with you. He gets a little more flirtatious. talking about MM regulations not covering your little situation (little eyebrow wiggle included). He calls you babe and tells you to be careful. It’s just as rich of a romance as literally any of the others.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but I’ve been seeing a number of new posts in this vein lately and I guess I wanted to add my thoughts. 😌

[johnslittlespoon]

okay listen feral bikerider gale/past catching up to him/etc etc etc anon here and can I just say. thank you. I’m not overly interested in the actual violence or gang-shit or whatever. when I first read about the bikerider au all I could think about was sons of anarchy (idk if you’ve watched it, but I watched three seasons with my dad and it’s all just. gang conflict after gang conflict after gang conflict with some romance sprinkled on top and that’s not. really my thing) and I was not into it. at all. then your yapping (affectionate) converted me. hearing that it won’t be all weapon smuggling and, idk, drugs or smth is actually so reassuring lol

and!!! obviously it’s your fic/au, I’m definitely not here to try to influence you in any way whatsoever!!! I’m super excited to read it no matter what because your writing is just. lovely. I check in pretty much every morning like I’m reading the papers lmao

doing something semi-stupid in your past feels like kind of on brand for everyone, even though it might not be illegal for most. and maybe it wasn’t illegal for Gale, either, bro I am not a very good writer, I’ll leave the plotting to someone else.

but I’ll always love the idea of Gale being a little feral. or a lot feral. like John getting hurt in a bikerider au tickles my brain the same way John punching a German guard in canon centric fics does. Nevermind the guard, I just need the fallout. the angsty fallout.

John and Gale coming back home, and Gale sitting him down in the bathroom to very, very carefully patch him up (and, listen, the other guys probably just roughed him up a little. he probably got away with minor bruises and some scrapes), and Gale being insanely worried that he has scared John. John on the other hand is worried for Gale, because what if it happens again? What if the police finds out? John being worried that he somehow messed up.

and, don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t mind reading feral gale beating the shit out of people. It’s just not something I want to read a full fic of.

finally, because I just need to add this, too: Gale’s knuckles being split and bleeding and John so very carefully cleaning them up, pressing gentle kisses to the cuts when he has to scrape the dried blood up to get it properly clean. Gale not being sure what he did to deserve John, being so sweet and gentle and caring.

okay, over and out 🫡 sorry for not being that clear in the other ask, I blame. idk, sleep deprivation. and sorry for making this so long, idk what I’m on about half the time and my meds are doing shit to my brain. I love your blog and your writing just. makes my fucking days. I’d wait forever for the next chapter of dog coded Bucky ❤️

YIPPIEE more leaving!bikeriders au >:) hii i meant to get back to this SO long ago, feels like good timing now with the bikeriders theatre day approaching! i'm assuming you're the anon from this post <3

i have THOUGHTS. aka this got lengthy oops, shocker. a bit of plotting and then like 2k words of drabble below the cut lmfaoo

the proper drabble will be further down, but first of all, very big agree!! and relieved i'm not the only one who feels this way omg. i haven't watched SOA for this reason specifically– i just don't have much interest in the conflict/violence–heavy plot stuff (which is ironic considering i'm excited for the bikeriders movie, but i think it's pretty clear that's because of the lovely cast lol since i don't care for bikes/cars in the slightest oops). HONOURED that my yapping converted you tho LOL i swear if something is character focussed, it can make 99% of topics at least somewhat appealing!

and please don't worry omg i don't feel influenced/pressured etc, i loveee bouncing ideas and brainrot back and forth for my aus, it's sm fun and i love trying to incorporate things other people like/suggest when i can!! <3 but omg i will weep thank you so much wtf?? :'))

for sure; even the most stoic/'put together' characters surely have done some not very bright things in their lives. i'm toying with a couple backstories for gale to establish what might catch up to him or cause conflict, but i'm gonna wait to decide until i see the movie because i have a feeling i'll get some good inspo from benny's story!

honestly it's the part i'll have to put the most effort into really thinking out in terms of plot to make it flow naturally, because all the relationship focussed things kinda write themselves as i brainrot. but i'm 99% sure i'm gonna write the fic from john's pov because it'll keep a lot of gale a mystery to the readers as well, and therefore save me from having to flesh out certain things until necessary lmfaoo

and yeah!! it's not always the events themselves that hit the hardest– it's the fact that the character could be feral enough for them to happen in the first place, and it's the outcome/fallout that's most fun to write/read (to me).

feral gale is so fun to explore in general because of how different it is to most of what we're shown of him in mota, so it's like a challenge to keep him feeling in character while also picking out the little parts of him that could be pushed to be that way. and of course the classic whump of the one person gale cares about and tries so hard to protect getting hurt because of him? endless angst possibilities.

i dig what you said, about john 'just' being roughed up a little, because i think with whatever backstory i end up forming, it's not like the 'bad guys' are gonna be some mastermind criminals extorting gale for something life or death lol. it's probably gonna be a bunch of rough and tumble biker men with some long lasting beef between their clubs, hitting gale where they know it'll hurt the worst: a loved one.

i bet you anything (depending on how plotting goes LOL) that they don't actually even intend to mess john up to the extent they do; i bet john runs his mouth and makes some sorta escape attempt because as terrified as he is, all he can think about is how gale's gonna obviously track him down and he's more worried about what the guys are planning to do to gale when he shows up. in his naive mind, if he can get out and get to a phone or something, he can stop everything.

ofc the escape attempt is futile because it's one gangly college kid vs a couple of grown ass men, and john gets banged up in the process, seeing as being tackled to the ground with your wrists bound behind your back doesn't leave you with anything to protect your face from concrete with, and maybe then he gets a solid fist to the face to scare him out of pulling anymore shit (it sure works).

and just the act of taking john/putting him danger alone would have gale ready to wring these men out by their necks, but when he shows up and sees his baby bleeding? and he can't tell how bad he's hurt, from where he's lurking around the corner scoping out the situation? he'd see red and be pretty dang close to saying fuck it and going in there without a plan, but the fear of john getting hurt in the process would stop him, and he doesn't feel like going down for murder.

somehow he picks off the guys one by one with a generous amount of flying fists and y'know, maybe a bit of knife–work if necessary, idk, future plotting lol, and tells them they're good as dead if they pull anything like this again. that the club will be keeping an eye out for them, that they're a buncha cowards, and they can come talk to him face to face like men, next time. you get it.

and then finally, obligatory wound care ofc <3 easily top three tropes ever ugh. gale gets john the fuck out of there and to the safety of his truck, methodical and vigilant, and only then does his guarded expression drop, and his hands are shaking just as hard as john's are when he cups john's face in his hands to look him over. john gives him a shell–shocked "'m fine, gale" and hates how guilty gale looks, because there's not even the tiniest part of john that blames gale for any of it; john knew what he was getting into (to an extent) with gale.

but regardless, gale's shaken up, terrified by how much worse things could've gone and how much danger john could've been in, but also terrified of how deeply he feels for john; probably some backstory there about gale seeing someone he loved get hurt, or almost get hurt, swearing he'd never bring someone into his life again because of it, etc, and then in waltzes stubborn, loud–mouthed john egan.

but selfishly (or what he feels is selfish), gale's also terrified that this might be the final nail in the coffin for john. he knows he's not the easiest to be with (even though john thinks the exact same thing about himself lol silly boys) and he knows john's more patient than he deserves, and could find someone his own age with a normal life in a heartbeat with his sweet disposition and charming pretty boy looks. and he knows john's well within his rights to walk away from their relationship now, to be scared of the future, to decide it's too much, and part of gale would be relieved to not have to worry, even if he'd miss john like he's lost half of himself.

it's real quiet when they're back home and john's sitting on the bathroom counter, gale between his legs, patching up his face so so gently, as if each brush of a cotton swab is an apology. both of them have lots to say but neither know how to say it; john hates knowing gale's probably shouldering all the blame and he doesn't know how to reassure him in a way that'll get through to him, but he can't handle the silence. probably makes a weak joke about how "y'shoulda seen the other guy" and doesn't even get a smile out of gale.

ends up wrapping his legs around gale's hips to pull him closer but just gets a huffed out, frustrated "john" as gale swats his ankles away, and it's not that john's trying to make light of what happened, he just doesn't know how to talk about something like that, regardless of how good he and gale have gotten at communicating.

john probably gets a bit frustrated, because gale’s already so protective over him as is, which he likes, but now gale’s treating him like glass, like he’s scared to hurt him further just by touching him, and john does not like that. it feels like progress undone, like he's back at the beginning of their relationship when gale wouldn't let him in or open up to him or trust that he was capable of making his own decisions.

so when gale's done bandaging him up with practiced, meticulous hands, john doesn't give gale time to react, just slides off the counter and snatches the little first aid kit from his hands and says "okay, your turn." and it's obvious gale wants to protest, but john catches him so off guard that he stunned into silence, lets john guide him until he's leaning against the counter.

john's hands still tremble when he takes gale's hands in his, and he tries to steady them because he doesn't want gale to see how freaked out he is, but he diligently cleans away the blood around his knuckles, feeling gale's eyes on him the whole time but not looking away from his task, scared he'll shatter the moment if he does.

if he were to look up though, he'd see gale's watching him in complete awe, struck by the fiercest wave of adoration, drawing a blank while he tries to search for what he could've possibly done in this life or another to have someone like john come (crashing, stumbling, tornado–ing) into his life.

and if we wanna make it extra yowch–y and sappy and feelings heavy: as john's brushing his lips over the cuts, dusting featherlight kisses across his knuckles, john's throat goes tight and he feels his own overwhelming rush of emotions and his heart thumps and he blurts out: "i love you."

it's the first time one of them says it. and it’s a disguised i love you even so. i love you despite. i love you anyway. i love you because. months worth of reassurances wrapped into three words, and even with what john's just gone through, he's still scared when it slips out, looks up at gale with wide, searching eyes, trying to gauge whether he's overstepped or said the wrong thing.

gale's just trying to catch his breath, feeling like the wind's been knocked out of him by the admission. half of him wants to shake his head, gently push john's hands away, tell him "no you don't, hun." a tiny part of him wants to be cruel about it, to laugh the honesty off and ensure john will walk out that door far, far away from the mess that gale is, and not turn back, safe from harm.

but the other half of him, the half that holds his heart, evidently, has him cupping john's open, sincere face in his hands, looking down into bright, fearful, hopeful blue eyes, and murmuring "i love you more."

and john blushes as hard as he did the first time they'd kissed, as hard as he did the first time he was laid out in gale's bed, as if he and gale haven't said a million things much more fluster–inducing since they met. gets all shy, pouts, looks down and mumbles "that's not fair," and that finally gets the first smile out of gale all day, maybe even a breath of a laugh.

they love each other your honour </333

this got way out of hand but what else is newwww i'm so weak for these two. so so weak. i keep saying it but MAN i'm so excited to write this fic this summer omg :')

and DON'T BE SORRY!! it's so chill omg, you were perfectly clear (but i'm glad you elaborated and gave me an excuse to yap about them some more hehehe) and never apologize for long messages, i loveee reading the brainrot and hearing ur thoughts and getting to brainrot back. and thank you AGAIN sobs 😭💗 that makes MY days and ur way too kind fml. i hope the wait hasn't been too long LOL on the chapters AND a response to this ask!! tysm again mwah

[betterbemeta]

@this-should-do said:

#i also wish there were like... ways to help raiders like if we stop writing them as evil people and look at#the material conditions that lead them to being like that#and this could have branching paths too#some people are always gonna view them as evil and some will want to help others#and i think talking about how to help people who've resorted to this and created a culture around violence [...]

I saw, read, and appreciated your fallout 4 tag feelings!

I have agreed for a long time. while I wouldn't say 'rehabilitate' as we should question the society anyone would be 're-entering' but I understand what you mean-- 'they can realize they can take other actions than to be a very murder-able enemy in a video game.'

There are definitely some raider groups that I think wouldn't want to join up with the minutemen. But on average these groups seem to also be a problem for other raiders: the forged, rabies man at DB tech, as examples. Maybe it's just Bethesda's need to give you reasons to believe SOME guys are extra evil. But one of the first minuteman quests is 'go take care of the raiders at corvega.' It turns out that they're led by some guy luring in people with free chems because he's trying to re-create Mama Murphy's Sight. They're occupying lexington which is horrible and ghoul infested and losing people as fast as they can recruit. yeah sure we can kill them all... but it would also solve the problem if the gang learned that their leader was getting them killed over stupid shit when they didn't become a drug psychic instead of paying them. You the player actually have the knowledge to make the connection.

I have thought a lot about the conflict you learn about between the raiders at the federal stockpile (led by Red Tourette) and the beantown brewery (led by Tower Tom) and how Tom kidnapped Red's sister to extort her for food... and his gang kills her by mistake. rather than losing the advantage, Tom forges the letters to Red from 'Lily.' Red is even suspicious of it too-- but you can't resolve Confidence Man by telling Travis there could be another way to rescue Vadim, go to Red, explain, and make a deal to infiltrate Tom's gang and find out if her sister's alive. and if not, signal her to help us extract Vadim and get some justice.

Hell, after that's over, Red Tourette and her gang could even keep their job. The settlements pledging support to the minutemen are not just doing it because they want gang protection, they want to organize to do stuff like protect their harvest from being ravaged at random or to be sure that if something happens, people with supplies will come help them. you deadass need a place to store those supplies and The Castle is not a great option if you live on the opposite side of the map. Wouldn't you want these bad ass mfs with power armor, turrets, fortification, an escape tunnel to protect your stuff and also YOU if you have to flee your home? and on the other side of things, for a 'raider' is this not the best and cushiest job where people HAND YOU STUFF, you waste no ammo on bullshit, everybody gets a cut of fresh not-moldy shit, and all you have to do is not steal it so it keeps coming in forever? and people say 'thank you for what you do?'

There are a lot of raiders stationed at choke points and advantageous positions throughout the commonwealth and it's not clear who the hell they could be robbing but each other because the bunker hill traders already pay off raider gangs to let them pass. So every single one of those positions has the potential to negotiate. and we aren't allowed to because raiders i guess are too Depraved to be real human beings.

Its kind of creepy if you think about it, you encounter way more raiders in the commonwealth than any other kind of NPC. So if you care about 'uniting the people' and 'consent of the governed' the minutemen do not represent a majority of people in fallout 4 even if you link together every settlement. because the majority of people exist to be killed by you, the player.

[spookygibberish]

Should post this even if there's more to do here, tbh I want to make a vector version, It'd probably be easier to edit. Wanted to try and figure out the various provinces of Jacanti. The shapes of these are subject to change, which is part of why I considered not posting this. But I should actually share my stuff here, even if it isn't finished. I have some fairly tangible projects in mind and might start thinking of this blog as a place to post development work, maybe it'll make me feel less paralyzed and more productive? Anyways, Jacanti.

The southern tip of one yet unnamed continent is controlled by the Jacantese Empire. Colored areas are just regions and not official administrative divisions. Rundown under the cut.

The Bitano (in gold, the Gut): savanna in the west and desert and mountains in the east, the cultural epicenter of the empire. The capital of Godtomb, located on the western shore, is the central holy site of the Hegemonic culture's religion (many things need named lmao). Has the emperor, has the government, has the actual bones of the slain God (the name is literal). Cereal crops and cattle. The provinces of the Bitano tend to receive preferential positions in the governmental Orbits, although there's nothing in writing to indicate them as more privelaged. It's a matter of cultural and ethnic chauvinism, a bit of nepotism, etc.

Zutnonva (in serpentine, the Lungs): mountain and rainforest. Its difficult terrain has led many populations to become quite isolated and is surprisingly culturally and linguistically diverse, despite the efforts of Jacanti itself. Actively being settled. Has a few "uncontacted" hostile populations that are nevertheless surrounded and extremely outclassed, but also ignored where they exist on land not seen in any way as valuable by the Hegemonic culture, at least for the moment.

Micad (in azure, the Heart): plains and monsoon forest. Increasingly industrialized and still feeling the fallout of a failed rebellion several decades ago. Differing interpretations of religious law and building frustrations with conservative mandates on the proper standards for dagnyd manufacture lead to a violent, 8 year conflict which was eventually quashed. The war might have been lost, but the sentiments which lead to its ignition have remained smoldering.